Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) (56 page)

"Welcome to Security Detention Camp Eight. Your duties will be easy, very important, and very troubling. If you ever have any doubts about what you will be doing here, remember that proprop sign outside this building. And for those of you who were involved in combat with the Commune, just remember that. Did anyone have any comrades killed in action?" Arie and I both slowly raised our hands. Several others did, too.

"Enough said. Here's the story. The occupation will be brief, but its effects will be lasting, if you do your jobs correctly. Big picture: The Gulf has been a pestilential, nasty, evil place for a long, long time. The original three states were all insane criminal totalitarian conspiracies that oppressed their slave subjects and caused plenty of trouble for the rest of the galaxy as well. You'll remember ConFree had to intervene on Galinta not too long ago because the Demons invaded there, and the three Gulf slave states showed no interest in getting involved. Plenty of Legion troopers had to die before the Demons were driven away that first time. We knew we had a big problem then. We probably should have occupied the Gulf then, but we kept telling ourselves that we were not an empire. Well, we're not, but it's now more clear than ever that we must eradicate this Gulf disease. And you folks are going to help.

"We'll be leaving when our tasks here are done. After that, what happens will be up to the natives. We will leave a governmental structure, but they can dismantle it after we leave if they want. That's up to them. We are not nation-building. Not one credit of ConFree taxpayer money is going into this place. Everything we're doing here in terms of our own occupation is financed by Fleetcom or Legion funding. And none of that goes to the natives. We have confiscated every resource we expend for the short-term needs of the natives. It's their money we're spending on the detention camps, food and shelter for detainees, and it will be their funds we spend to counter starvation and disease if that comes to the general population. We'll keep them alive, but we'll use their resources to do it. A lot of that is going to come from all the billions of credits their leaders looted and stashed in secret bank accounts. They're not secret any more.

"All right, your task. The problem in the Gulf has been the totalitarian governments and the party structure and brute force that oppressed the people and left no room for opposition to grow. The regimes were a bit different in each of the three states but were all later united under the Gulf Stellar Commune and the Stellar Revolutionary Union Party. That makes our task easier. We're going to execute all upper-level Party leaders for war crimes. All of them. That's a lot of people but we've put the cut-off around the point where we enter the mid-levels. The people who are going to die are all of the decision-makers in the Stellar Revolutionary Union Party. Of course they are all guilty of treason against the people of Angaroth as well, but that's not our business. They all participated in the decision to ally themselves with the Darks and Demons and that's all that should concern us.

"We want to eradicate these people from history and leave nothing behind. And you'll be doing it. You'll be interviewing all active party members, from highest to lowest levels. By that I mean people who were part of the formal Party bureaucracy, not just people who signed up because they were required to do so. We have full bio on all active members, from the party's own records. We have already categorized them all, and ruled on who is to be executed. Upper level personnel will have a red spot on the upper right of their bio sheet. Your task is to confirm the person seated before you is the person on the sheet, ensure the red spot decision is correct, and if so, send him through the door to his right. That leads to a narrow corridor between the rooms where he will be guided to his fate. If there is no red spot or if you confirm it’s an error, or there are reasons to reconsider, send him through the door to his left, with an explanation on his sheet. That door leads to another narrow corridor that is for the living. And this is very important: We're looking for people to run the new government. If you have a party member with no red spot, who is not brainwashed, who appears to be intelligent and flexible and concerned about the future of his people and his nation, highlight him and recommend further discussions. We need intelligent, clear-thinking people for the new government. You'll be doing us and the people of Angaroth a great favor if you can come up with good candidates for Angaroth's new government.

"All right, everybody take one of the booklets on that table and bring it with you up to the second floor. Look for the room with the number on it that corresponds to the number on the booklet. That's going to be your home for awhile, so make yourself comfortable. I'll be checking on you all before we start sending in the detainees. Good luck!"

Δ

"Good morning, sir!" As I entered my assigned office, Room 223, I was greeted by a Legion trooper in an A-vest, armed with a KXV handgun. It was the same model they had issued to Arie and me.

"Morning, trooper," I replied. He was enlisted, a blond Outworlder, and seemed very young. "Have you done this job before?"

"Yes sir." He smiled. "I'm your assistant, Starside. I'll get you whatever you need. And I'll handle the detainees if they get nasty."

"Oh, I should be able to handle them, trooper. Tell me – I just got here. I've never fired a KXV before. Is the weapon any good?"

"Yes sir! It's an excellent weapon. Fires every time, never jams. Just click to X or vac and pull the trigger. SOP is carry set to vac."

"Glad to hear it." Despite all my Legion training and service I had never been required to carry a handgun. But I was now.

"Prophet!" It was Arie, stepping in the door. He had the room next to mine. "Have you read this booklet?"

"Not yet, Arie. What's up?"

"They gave me an assistant – some kid named Rampage."

"Yeah, me too. So what?"

"Well it’s just that – man, I'm not an executioner!"

"Well, you are now."

"But – I don't want to do this type of work. I'd rather be back on the Tough Love."

"Come on, Arie. You said you were sick of being prodded and poked and brainscanned. You jumped at the chance to leave, so quit whining."

"Man!"

"Look at it this way, Arie. How many Legion and Commune troopers died on Vulcan?"

"I don’t know."

"A hell of a lot, that's how many. And what were these party swine doing at that time? Hiding under their desks here in Angaroth, right? And they gave the orders! They deserve to die!"

"You really are a hard-ass."

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"Is everything all right?" Commander Crash had just appeared, standing in my doorway.

"Just fine, sir," I answered.

"Good. We'll be sending the detainees in soon. There's no need to be polite with them. And I wish to emphasize speed. Spend no more than five marks on each subject. Oh, maybe take a bit longer with the first few, just to get a grip on it, but after that no more than five marks. Faster if you can do it. Now you'll see a field brainscan unit hanging on the wall there. I will not expect you to use that except for highly unusual cases requiring brainscan confirmation. We just don't have time for brainscans. Everybody's status is pretty much determined already. All right?"

"Yes sir! I'm looking forward to it, sir!"

"Well, good. All right, carry on."

Δ

The first detainee that Starside escorted into my office was a large, heavy-set male with a short haircut, clad in scruffy civilian clothes. His wrists were secured in front of him as he settled into the chair before my desk. I picked up his plastic d-folder from my overflowing in tray and looked it over. There was a red dot top right. Name Prester J Asgroth. Party Rank Regional Leader, Military Rank Commodore. I took a closer look at him. He stared back at me. He appeared to be well-fed, and gaining weight. Aging? Were these people mortals? Nobody had told me.

"You Asgroth?" I asked.

"I am." His tone was neutral.

"Commodore. You were in the Stellar Fleet?"

"I was. I was Political Advisor for the Second Fleet."

"Give me one good reason why you should not be executed for war crimes."

"I committed no war crimes."

"You are a leading member of the Stellar Revolutionary Union Party – right?"

"Correct."

"Any other reasons?"

"I always did my best to serve and protect the people."

I looked over his file some more.

"You had secret bank accounts in Asumara and Galgos," I said.

"That was for my family. A man should take steps to protect his family."

"Sixteen million Gulf Credits. Where did the money come from?"

"It is my life savings. For my family."

"Go out that door there." I gestured to the door to his right. Starside opened it, showed him through and closed it.

"How'd I do?" I asked.

"Excellent, sir! He deserves it."

I signed my initials by the red dot and tossed the file into the out box. Die, you bastard! Committed no war crimes, huh? You authorized uncounted war crimes. You killed thousands. Sitting at your desk, safe and fat. Counting your loot.

Δ

I went through several more red dotters. I had no problem sending them though the door to their right. And I had no problem signing my initials by the red dot. These were the real criminals. The Commune troopers we faced had no choice. They had to do what they were told. But these political creeps were sending them to their deaths, and enriching themselves at the expense of the people of Angaroth. Sixteen million credits!

"You're Gramin?" I asked.

"Yes sir." He was rail-thin, with thinning hair – all signs of mortality. They were mortals – in this day and age. Good Lord. Let's see – Name Medwyn Gramin. Party Rank Regional Inspector, Military Rank Commander. A red dot top right.

"You were a leading member of the Stellar Revolutionary Union Party – right?"

"That’s right."

"And your mission was to oppress the people, to smash any perceived opposition, kill any traitors, send the army off to fight for you and tax anything that moved until your bank accounts were full. Right?"

"I've never heard it expressed quite that way but yes, that's an accurate description of what most of my colleagues were doing, yes."

"But you weren't doing that."

"No. I was not."

"Why not?"

"I was a member of the resistance."

"I heard there was no resistance. And my sources are pretty good."

"No resistance was ever discovered because there was no organized resistance. If anyone tried to organize any anti-government or anti-party activity, the authorities would instantly find out."

"How did they do that?"

"They let the conspirators tell them. It's like this. Under the Pegal Stelcom everyone knew the ground rules. Trust nobody. And if you trust nobody, there will be no organized resistance. You see, if your best friend makes an anti-regime comment or proposal – anything at all – you have to denounce him. If you fail to denounce him, you may be arrested or executed. Could be he has been directed to approach you by the regime and make that comment and the objective is to see whether or not you report it – whether or not you can be trusted."

"So how can you claim to be a member of the resistance if there is no organized resistance?"

"You can resist as an individual. If you are very, very careful. And know exactly what you are doing. About the time we made the switch to the United Commune, there was a tremendous political purge. Hundreds, then thousands were denounced, tortured and arrested. Each detainee, under torture, named names – and it soon blew up completely out of control. Somebody would be denounced and that's all it took, if they say you committed thought crime there is no proof necessary. You are tortured for names of other conspirators or others who think as you do. You give them names of people you dislike, and they are arrested, and they give out more names. Pretty soon the entire party structure and government is being ripped apart by these accusations. The torturers are arrested while torturing detainees because other detainees have named them as thought criminals. Finally everybody realized it was all a fantasy and stopped it. So the insanity slowed down a bit. And that gave me an opportunity."

"To do what?"

"To resist. To do what little I could do to save innocent lives without drawing suspicion to myself."

"And how did you do that?"

"The party records everything. And there are many regulations, which must be followed. If you can cite a regulation to justify your actions, nobody will dare oppose you. Unless you overdo it. I worked right in this building. I made life and death decisions for people headed to execution – just as you do."

"And you resisted? Why did you do that?"

"Because I despised the regime and wanted to destroy it. I couldn't do that but what I could do was save the lives of people who I knew were also anti-regime. I had to be selective but I had quite a few anti-regime people to choose from. I sure didn’t keep notes but I must have saved fifty or more lives. Of course, I sent many others to their deaths. But those fifty are alive today because of my actions."

"And how was that done?"

"If you are facing execution and confess the error of your ways and promise to repent and ask for instruction from the party on how to be a good citizen, the request has to be granted. The course lasts for two months and if you pass it, your death sentence is commuted."

"Really."

"Really. I mentioned that to – some of them – as an option. So you see, I was resisting. Individually. I don’t know if there was any other resistance; maybe I was the only person on the planet resisting, but I don't think I was. I think there were plenty of other people, doing similar things. Baby steps for justice. I have faith in our people – if they can only get out of the yoke of oppression. I'm glad you folks are here. Even if you're going to execute me. I hope it will lead to a new dawn for Angaroth."

I looked through his folder. No foreign bank accounts. Practically nothing in one local account.