Freehold (65 page)

They were settled into quarters in pairs and Naumann assigned a female operative from Black Ops to stay with Kendra, as a precaution against any attacks. "I'm sure I'm being paranoid," he said. "And we'll do it anyway." The woman was polite enough but distant and Kendra went straight to sleep to recover from the stress of the trip.

The negotiations began the next "morning," by Earth clock. Kendra was seated in the front row of observers, wearing major's rank to justify that proximity, and keep her as unobtrusive as possible. She wore sufficient makeup to change her basic appearance and had changed enough over the years to be hard to recognize anyway, it was hoped.

Naumann and Chinratana stalled and delayed until they were seated facing her. She'd been told to make a surreptitious signal if she noticed anything, either a confusing cultural assumption or a deliberate ploy to outflank them in debate.

On one side, a brilliant blue UN flag was placed in a shiny frame. Everyone stood to polite attention for the brief ceremony. Then Naumann dropped his first bomb.

Instead of new cloth, the Freehold flag was a torn rag. It was an infantry unit's headquarters flag and it was scorched, wrinkled, faded and weathered. Holes and tears dotted it and the mounting grommets had pulled loose. Kendra heard a couple of UN public affairs people cursing the brilliance of the move. One side looked like the victim and it wasn't theirs.

"Our position is simple," Chinratana began, looking along the table at real people rather than images. "The United Nations of Earth are to remove all military and political personnel and materiel from our system, return all our personnel and materiel and agree to end hostilities. They are to pay compensation to all those they displaced, benefits to all survivors of casualties, the cost of rebuilding three cities and make no further incursions into our space except for trade and diplomatic purposes."

"We'll pay for your three cities when you
butchers
pay for our fifty," the senior UN delegate, Genevieve Rouen replied. "There's only six major industrial cities you didn't destroy!" she spat, eyes hard as flint.

"They survived from pity," Naumann replied. "It was a pity I didn't have more bombs."

Rouen came out of her seat. "Listen to me you—"

"NO!
You
listen to
me
!" Naumann bellowed. The force of his words threw the delegate back into her chair. "You attacked us with weapons of mass destruction, with no threat to your people involved. Our actions were to stop that intrusion and
your
genocide."

There was a lull and Chinratana said evenly, "Had you accepted our requests for peaceful negotiation, it would not have been necessary."

The senior arbitrator, Prime Minister MacRae of Caledonia, said, "I do think there must be some kind of mutual compensation . . . but I don't believe Grainne is obligated to pay for all damage done."

Naumann interrupted with, "Very generous of you, Mr. Prime Minister, seeing as our requests to
your
government for aid were met with a cowardly reply of 'We can't interfere.' " Had you put pressure on Earth earlier, the way your foreign affairs department is now, looking for a slice of their pie, I would be able to sleep at night. You think I
enjoyed
sentencing millions upon millions of children to death because their parents couldn't act like adults?"

"Very well," MacRae said, trying to regain order. "We appear to have a cease-fire and agreement to return prisoners, property and assets. We shall table for now the reparations on either side. Let us discuss disarmament and monitoring of the combatants. Our committee has calculations for your review. The gist of it is that Brandt StarDriveSystems and Meacham Hyperdrive are to be directly monitored by the government of the Freehold and a neutral party. No drives are to be sold other than to approved end-users and all technological developments are to be shared with the Committee on Peaceful Space Development. The UN is to be limited to fifty military star drive vessels, which is two per jump point and member planet. The Freehold will be limited to eight—that allows two per jump point and two expeditionary against piracy or other activities. Insystem forces are to be held at a level not to exceed one percent of population and reservists are to be included—you seem to have had an army a good ten times the size you officially reported, Citizen Chinratana." His smile was somewhat wry.

"The existing UN colonial members and the Colonial Systems' Alliance have arranged for political infrastructure support—education, public aid, law enforcement, agricultural oversight and all other basic functions. When your own governments are ready to resume those tasks, we can arrange for step-by-step withdrawal."

The UN contingent were nodding. Kendra watched Chinratana, who was watching Naumann. Naumann was pacing. He had the lead for now. The man had a
very
powerful personality.

"I don't think you ladies and men understand," he began. "These statist, imperialistic, cowardly little baboons started a war with a nation less than one percent their size, purely as an exercise in propaganda to draw attention from their own little Orwellian charade. Their stated intent in
their own internal memos
was to mundicidically exterminate our leadership, industry and social fabric bit by bit, creating us as a race of scapegoats for every problem their bloated bureaucracy failed to address. They used bioweapons, nukes and kinetics to preemptively cripple our civilian industries and prevent argument. They systematically tortured, raped and murdered 'war criminals' who were merely defending their homes, as provided for in the Geneva, Hague and Mars conventions and you gutless worms did nothing but write 'stern notes' of protest while our people died of starvation and cold!" The expression on his face as he stared at them made it appear he'd found maggots in his food. The diplomats stared in shocked silence.

"Now you want to disarm us, realizing that we won't play your petty games. That makes us a threat to your status quo, much like we were to the UN, so you want to saddle us with the same failed bureaucracy that has been tried for the last
thousand fucking years
and
failed every single time!
much like the UN did.

"Well, ladies and men, you better have your bombs ready, because mine are." He sat down, drew his sword and commenced wiping the satiny surface with a cloth, staring directly into the eyes of the man across from him, Fouk al-Visr of the Ramadanian contingent. The man shifted his eyes cautiously around, finally looking into his comm.

Chinratana broke into the nervous, embarrassed silence with, "We do appreciate your offer of political support. I know few of you believe we actually know what we are doing or that our residents are happy that way, but it
is
an internal affair and we are quite happy to deal with our own wounds our way. All we require is a guarantee that the UN will not again be allowed to attack us. We were, and remain, absolutely neutral to any engagements and have no imperial goals of any kind."

There were protests, reconciliations, deals offered. Chinratana and Naumann refused to budge. "I could insist on and enforce an unconditional surrender. All we want is to be left alone and for them to pay damages. Nothing else is required and nothing else will suffice," Chinratana said simply.

Realizing the futility of the issue, the other parties agreed to the resolution. It was clear they were not happy and would build their own militaries up to face the potential threat of either nation. Terms were agreed and signed and there was a break for food. It had been a very tense day. Most were surprised at that; they'd expected a week of posturing to get results. Once again, the Freeholders showed their knack for streamlining procedures to the bare bones. They skipped the peripherals and went straight to the point, or the throat.

Chinratana was received cautiously, Naumann treated with distant courtesy inspired by fear. He didn't seem bothered by it. When they resumed discussions that evening, he cut right to the heart again.

"The UN prisoners we have are in detainment, accounted for and awaiting transport home. As provided for by international law, all are as healthy as permits and have had regular
attempts
at correspondence. Any MIAs you may have I will attempt to document. I'm sure there are a few, seeing as our planetary defense was at least as efficient as our . . . recent efforts.

"When can I get a list of detainees from you and when will they be ready to travel?"

Rouen shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it's not as easy as that. They were dispersed through the system for safety—"

"To your labs and prisons for entertainment, you mean," Naumann cut in emotionlessly.

"—for
safety
," Rouen insisted, "both from retribution and to avoid escape."

"Retribution from who and for what?" Chinratana prodded. "Since you attacked us, why should they be in any danger of retribution?"

Rouen squirmed again, "Well, anyway, records are quite destroyed due to your recent attack. I'm not sure how many or where they might be. It will take some time to put together a list and arrange transport. If you could help finance the effort, then of course . . ." she faded off.

Instead of taking the bait, Naumann asked, "Can your agents, soldiers and department heads follow orders?"

"Yes . . . ?" Rouen replied.

"Then tell them I want my people accounted for and on ships tomorrow. Any MIA better have
very
convincing documentation or I'll just have to start a second echelon of cities," he said as he reached for his comm.

"You'll do no such thing!" MacRae cut in. "It may take some time."

Naumann replied, "Time when my people can be made to disappear, sustain injuries that prevent them from talking or otherwise be hurt more than they already have been. The Freehold Military Forces does not leave mistakes uncorrected or abandon personnel for political reasons. I guaranteed them I would not leave them behind and I'm not leaving Sol System without them. I want them back now, I will not be extorted, and if that is a problem, I believe I have a Black Operations team near Sydney, if you'd care to see a city die the way London did."

"You'd destroy a city over your MIAs?" MacRae strangled out.

"Since that statement implies that you also regard soldiers as less than human, you are invited to try me," Naumann replied flatly.

Chinratana interrupted, "Colonel Naumann, that's enough. Thank you for your efforts. Please return to our suite and I will finish negotiations."

Naumann stood, saluted stiffly and marched out. His henches followed without expression. Kendra rose, looking pale, and joined the entourage. Her escort took the opportunity to turn to the assembly and make a throat-slicing gesture with her finger.

Naumann heard a knock on his door and carefully put down the book he was reading. It was a real bound book and almost irreplaceable. The copy of Kipling's verse had followed him around for fifteen years of military service. He sprang to his feet, one moment at rest, the next upright and quivering.

It was Chinratana. "Good evening, Colonel. I hope I didn't embarrass you with my request that you leave?"

"Embarrass me? By doing your job? How go the talks?"

"Finalized," he said, with an exhaled breath. He'd been holding it for some time. "I admit I hadn't expected them to accept your threats, but you bluff like no one I've ever met. We must play poker . . . just for fun, of course."

"I wasn't bluffing, Citizen," Naumann replied with a shake of his head.

"I know," Chinratana said. "And that was obvious to them. They clearly fear what abilities we have left." There were barely enough forces available to conduct a hull inspection and both knew it. It would not be admitted anywhere outside Freehold System. "But I am glad your threats don't need to be followed through."

"So am I, Citizen. So am I."

"If it were possible to heal sorrow by weeping and to raise the dead with tears, gold were less prized than Grief."

—Sophocles

Kendra was in Rob's apartment. She wasn't sure what the legal issue was or what would be done with his will after he was declared legally dead. She wasn't actually sure how a legal declaration of death was done here. All she wanted was somewhere familiar to be alone. She'd wangled enough fuel to spend every other night there and had access to a vehicle. It was considered acceptable use as long as she could justify it and she shuttled other soldiers around and watched for looters as she went. She'd actually chased two from Ms. Styplwchak's flat. They were more deportees from Earth and had tried to threaten her, until she pointed a rifle at them and they became very polite, leaving the bag of loot behind. She hadn't seen them in the area since.

George the cat had survived, she discovered. He mewed one morning and sat remote from her, sniffing the air. Finally satisfied, he approached cautiously, then began rubbing her ankles. He was emaciated, his fur matted and shabby looking in his old age, but his presence cheered her slightly. She'd have to find some food for him. Luckily, he ate almost anything, she recalled, and he was unlikely to be finicky under these circumstances.

Her phone sounded, answering the question of when limited service would be available. It would make it easier than having to relay through her comm. She answered on the first beep and took a moment to recognize the caller.

"Marta! Hi!" she said, surprised.
I thought you were dead,
went unsaid.

Marta was a wreck. Her normally perfect features were bandaged, sutured and glued. Underneath she looked disheveled, tired and lined. "I need to see you," she said. Her speech was slurred around orthodontal splints. With her damaged hearing Kendra barely understood her.

"Sure," she agreed, masking her concern. "Where are you?"

"My house. Can you come over now?"

Kendra looked her over again, decided it was urgent and said, "On my way."

"On my way" turned into a half div. The traffic was terrible. Pedestrians, repair vehicles, regular traffic, military traffic and others all battled for space. Kendra drove as aggressively as she dared in a borrowed military vehicle and was shaking when she pulled into the parking ramp, although not on the scale of whatever was bothering Marta. She jogged up the steps and held her hand over the sensor. Nothing happened, so she knocked.