"But Yadan, you and Yadan, you and Ashinik - it's not possible,
Shavash! The fanatics hate you."
Kissur left the room, smiling; he was probably going to give some
orders. The official silently beckoned Bemish with his finger and the latter
crawled off the sofa, fighting the pain. Shavash approached a window and
pulled the blinds up. Bemish stretched his head over Shavash's shoulder and
looked out of the window.
Out of the director's office windows, a beautiful view opened up at the
landing field strewn with the black bodies of fighter helicopters and
commandos in spotty camouflage. But the construction's director attention
was pulled towards something else. They had used railroad tracks to pull a
huge cargo crane RV-37 into the middle of the field. The crane was generally
used to correct the positioning of rockets and to load containers heavier
than 700 tons. This time, the crane's load was much smaller than the maximum
allowed weight. The crane's jib pointed to the sky and twelve... no,
thirteen bodies were swinging under it and Bemish recognized his ex-deputy -
young Ashinik - hanging to the side. Two squeaking yellow vultures were
already circling the crane...
"The zealots and rebels," Shavash said coolly, "disturbed the Empire,
babbled too much and addled people's minds. It was not possible to catch
them all at once - they hid, showed up only separately and threatened to
avenge the deaths of their comrades. Now we gathered all of the zealots in
one place and destroyed this filth once and forever. Now, when we are not
bothered by the crazy gangs, we can negotiate with the Federation as a real
state. The simple people that believed zealots will believe Kissur. The
officials terrified by zealots will trust me."
Shavash turned away from the window. The setting sun was burning and
melting in the small official's eyes, his half-opened lips were twisted in a
smile...
"Why?" Bemish asked suddenly. "Why do you hate us, Shavash? I don't
mean myself, I mean the Federation."
The official's face contorted.
"Why? Can't you figure it out, Terence? I hate you because you are so
clean; I hate your sparkling cars, your gleaming wraps, your advertisement
boards. I hate you because when you arrive at the dirtiest town, you build a
hotel for yourself without dirt and poverty. A poor people hate a rich one,
haven't you known that?"
"I didn't know that you were poor," Bemish muttered. "I thought that
you stole enough from your own people."
Shavash laughed.
"I was not always rich - have you forgotten that? Do you know how I
became literate? I stood next to announcement boards and compared the
herald's words with letters. My father was the poorest shaman in the
village; I stole on the streets and drank out of mud pools. I was lucky - I
met Nan and instead of ending up in a gang, I ended up in the White Buzhva
Lycee. Not that it would make any difference to an Earthman... When I was an
official seven years ago, I had been waiting for my arrest, torture and
exile every day. Have you ever expected being arrested, Terence? Even if you
were arrested for DWI, I don't think that you would be thrown in an earth
pit."
"I don't argue that," Bemish agreed. "The earth pits are a strong point
of your civilization."
"They are a strong point, indeed, Terence - life lacks spice without
them. It's like meat without salt." Shavash swung his hand sharply.
"When you convey our demands for negotiations Terence, don't forget to
stress that they should take place at the highest level. The Federation
president will head the Galactic delegation and I will head the Weian one."
"You are both nuts," Bemish muttered glumly. "Damn the day when I
thought that you, Shavash, were a normal official only because you took a
lot of bribes."
Accompanied by Kissur, Bemish walked down the main spaceport building.
It was in somewhat better condition than he had expected - he saw even
occasional unbroken bottles in the bars. The floor had been cleaned recently
and the main hall's announcement board still carried the old slogan "Long
live the party of people's freedom."
The building had suffered several millions worth of damage but Bemish,
surprisingly, didn't really care. Really, yesterday morning he had been sure
that they would fire meson artillery directly at the construction. What was
a torn apart monitor next to a SpaceExtra stand after that? Ashinik,
Ashinik! Did you think that after demanding Kissur's appointment to the
first minister that the latter would hang you on a tower crane in twenty
four hours?!
"Where are common zealots?"
Kissur ran his hand across his neck. Bemish realized why the floor had
been recently washed.
"How many of them were here?"
"It was no more than a hundred," Kissur lied coolly.
"Bullshit! There were more than two thousand of them!"
Kissur shrugged his shoulders.
"Can I see colonel Rogov?" Bemish asked.
They walked up a motionless ascender to the second floor and entered
the air traffic control room.
The colonel lay on the table. Somebody had placed a white pillow under
his head, crossed his hands on his chest and placed a funeral wreath made
out of white flowers. It was an Alom burial custom for warriors.
"Have they killed him?"
"He was a real warrior and he didn't need another's hand to pull the
trigger," Kissur answered.
Bemish shifted the wreath up and saw a barely noticeable hole at the
colonel's temple under large whitecandle petals."
"Should I have done the same?" Bemish asked.
"You are a businessman. It's not yours."
Bemish lowered the wreath silently and left the room.
Kissur stayed for a moment to rearrange the flowers correctly.
"I am glad that there are still warriors left on Earth," Kissur said.
It proved impossible later to find out how many zealots had been killed
that day accordingly to Shavash's and Kissur's orders. It was absolutely
known that not a single zealot present in the spaceport during the night of
ninth had escaped it alive.
Shavash and Kissur always claimed that it had been about one hundred to
one hundred fifty corpses. They were interested in bringing the estimated
number of "lunatic maniacs" down. Accordingly to Bemish's calculations, at
least three thousand zealots crowded in the spaceport when the whole thing
started. They had all been let inside the buildings and on the landing
field. Most of these peasants had never seen before wondrous buildings of
glass and steel where staircase moved on their own and announcement ran
across the ceiling, where they couldn't even squat in a corner to take a
crap. Few of them walked away, returning to their homes, on the second day
of their stay in the spaceport, especially since "yellow coats" blocked the
roads. It became clear why Kissur had let the passenger hostages go - he
didn't want any witnesses around and he didn't want them to get in the way
accidentally.
Later, Bemish dragged some details of the massacre out of his own
employees. Everything happened only after the paratroopers had come in.
There were two thousand of Aloms in the spaceport and there were two trained
supermen per every unarmed peasant. They killed the zealots with knives and
bare hands; they didn't use any firearms or lasers. They were not afraid of
noise, especially since lasers didn't make any. However, they were afraid of
damaging the equipment and they didn't want a laser ray, for instance, to
jab into the floor and leave a trace that they would not be able to hide
afterwards. They accidentally killed a dozen personnel including the head
technician of the heating systems. He was the only heating systems tech left
in the spaceport and they almost got themselves into a crisis. Thankfully, a
commando sergeant figured the system out.
Then they performed the great cleaning of the building - they washed
the floors, scrubbed guts of the walls, checked everything mercilessly - so
that, God forbid, somebody's brains would not get stuck in a bar behind a
box with salted peanuts.
They dragged the corpses away to the landing field, opened the
thermoconcrete up and burned the hell out of everything with modern weapons
- neutron guns and annihilators. Not a speck was left of the corpses and the
ground was baked for two hundred meters down into a glass pancake... Then
they sealed thermoconcrete back up and everything was tip-top. They
threatened the personnel to cut their families down to a fifth removed
degree, including children in their mothers' bellies if anybody spoke an
extra word to the media. One hundred fifty people were all. You could count
them - all the stiffs were present, lying in a neat pile next to the cargo
terminal...
Concerning commandos, it was discovered that there were twenty six
hundred three Aloms and eighty six Earthmen in the division. Sixteen
Earthmen were officers. The most interesting part of it was that while all
non-Aloms had the opportunity to leave, some of them stayed. The colonel and
two more officers shot themselves and sixteen Earthmen, desperate
adventurers joined their comrades and went to Kissur the White Falcon. In
spite of the official Federation language being the only one allowed spoken
in the army, they had picked up some Alom on the way.
They took Bemish on a brief trip around the building that belonged to
him. At every corner, he saw people wearing Federation military uniforms and
babbling in Alom. In the air traffic control office, he saw a small group of
personnel that were so sleep deprived that they were no longer frightened of
anything. The guards walked Bemish to a car that stood on the landing field
with the engine already running and politely suggested to him to get out of
there.
Bemish silently climbed into the car and pushed the accelerator. One
after another, the gates on the landing field opened, letting him through.
Bemish drove down the same road that they had taken yesterday bringing him
in.
Rice fields still glistened in the sun and olive trees still stood
along the old road. The soldiers and the zealots had torn all the fruits off
breaking the branches in the process. Olive trees were always planted along
the roads - road dust covered fruits forcing them to ripe quicker.
A fighting banner of the White Falcon clan and a standard of the Empire
were swaying above his villa. Bemish kept going forward.
Kissur, however, still didn't have that many soldiers and it looked to
Bemish like they were mostly concentrated in the spaceport. Few posts were
present on the road - they were constantly on the line with the
headquarters. Next to the turn leading to the villa, Bemish noticed a dozen
commandos.
A line of "yellow jackets" and Empire troops started soon after, a
kilometer and a half away from the villa. Journalists lingered behind them.
The soldiers at the road block waved their hands and their assault
rifles at him. A studded chain lay across the road, Bemish slowed down,
turned across the chain and waited - a large pack of policemen, journalists
and Earthmen was running towards him.
Strangely, there were many more journalists this time and Bemish could
only blink at the camera flashes. The reasons for that were pretty simple.
Most of the officials that had tried to keep the media away were now in
Assalah.
"Are you all right, sir?" a guard asked. Another clicked the gun bolt.
The assault rifle in his hands gleamed in the sun reflecting rice fields and
clouds turned upwards down.
"Yes," Bemish said climbing out of the car. Five minutes later, a
police helicopter with a yellow band on the side - the symbol of the
Department of Serenity and Justice - was flying him to the capital.
The helicopter landed next to the sovereign's palace, right at Seven
Grains Hotel. Here, the highest provincial functionaries used to await their
award or execution; here, the head of the sect that wanted to make peace to
Earthmen had been killed eleven months ago.
A whole flock of journalists rushed towards Bemish. The first among
them was a guy wearing a square pattern sleeveless shirt. This guy had
written a while ago that the Assalah Company director hadn't been proficient
in Weian and had mistakenly taken metaphorical "demons" for a literate
statement.
"Is it true that the Federation troops switched their alliance to
Kissur?"
"It is true," Bemish replied.
"Why?"
"The division was 90% Alom," Bemish replied. "At the same time, there
was not a single Alom officer in it. So, the Federation soldiers decided to
fight for the man who belonged to the clan that their ancestors swore fealty
to. They didn't want to fight for the people that paid them three hundred
credits a year. I was told that the other commando divisions had the same
number of Aloms in them."
"About ten members of the emergency committee ended up in Kissur's
hands. Kissur demanded their arrest and execution. What happened to them? Is
it true that Shavash is dead?"
"Shavash is quite alive," Bemish said. "His quarrel with Kissur was an
utter fabrication. He called the Federation soldiers in to provide Kissur
with troops."
Everybody gaped - they didn't know anything yet and Bemish was the
first one to openly state what had happened.
"What about the zealots?" a journalist shouted, "Are they also in?"
"No," Bemish said.
"The fight between Shavash and zealots could end only with one of the
sides being destroyed. Once the Federation soldiers had switched their
alliance to Kissur, he used them to exterminate the zealots. I saw the
sect's leaders hanging on a cargo crane with my own eyes."
It was astonishing that nobody asked at that moment what happened to
the rest of the zealots. Somehow everybody decided that "the extermination
of zealots" was limited only to the execution of a dozen leaders.
"What does Kissur want?" somebody shouted. "They demanded that the
corrupted government to step down and now half of the corrupted government
is hanging out in Assalah! What's gonna happen next?"
"Kissur has no more demands for his own government," Bemish explained.
"Kissur would like Weia and the Federation to conduct talks about their
future relations. The negotiations are to be held at the highest possible
level."
After this brief but shocking interview, Bemish entered the hotel where
they were already waiting for him.
In the Hall of the Gifts from Afar, a table made in the shape of a
grape bunch stood on gilded legs that resembled ram's hooves. At this table,
provincial governors had officially delivered gifts to palace department
heads. Now twenty people sat behind it. Bemish recognized half a dozen of
them - Federation envoy Severin, general Stesh, the deceased Giles' boss,
ex-first minister Yanik and a couple of high Weian officials. The others
were Earthmen - five senators and three people with general insignias.
"They flew in here without troops," Bemish thought about the people in
military uniforms. "They don't make generals out of Aloms, they only make
soldiers out of them."
Bemish's story about his stay in the terrorists' nest was heard out in
dead silence.
"Are you sure that there is not a single zealot left in the spaceport?"
envoy Severin asked again.
"There is not a single alive zealot present," Bemish assured him.
"But it totally changes the situation," a delegate said. "We wouldn't
have been able to conduct negotiations with zealots. Shavash's presence
changes the picture. He is a normal person..."
"Shavash is a normal man, isn't he?!" Bemish shouted. "Would, in your
opinion, a normal man get three thousand people together just to exterminate
them all?"
"Well, you can't deny that it improved the situation in the country.
Shavash's desire to get rid of destabilizing forces..."
"He wouldn't give a fig about them being destabilizing forces! Shavash
would make a deal with destabilizing forces, demons, devils, Gera, with God
knows whom. He just had a misfortune to have a personal quarrel with the
zealots' spiritual head and so he killed them all."
"What are you suggesting we do?" it was Severin talking.
"There are no more hostages in the spaceport. There are only terrorists
and soldiers that betrayed their oath. We have the right to destroy them by
any means accessible to a superpower," Bemish said.
"Do you mean nuclear weapons?" Severin inquired.
"I suggest doing what Kissur would do in our situation. He would not
think for a moment about negotiating with an enemy. He would not think about
it even if there were three thousand hostages! We should not do what Kissur
expects us to."
One general elbowed another quietly and asked him about the
relationship between Bemish and the spaceport. Having found out that Bemish
was certainly the owner of the property to be destroyed, he gazed at the
businessman with satisfaction.
"I have a firm opinion," Bemish continued, "that we should not hold any
negotiations with Shavash. This man doesn't even know what ethics is,
whether is has wings or a tail. He treats people in the following way, "If
one parrot keels over, we'll buy another one." He will cheat you because he
will lie to you about the things that you take for granted. You wouldn't
even consider checking them out as you wouldn't consider testing the
gravitational constant."
"Unfortunately," a counter-intelligence officer spoke, "there are six
large paratrooper divisions currently in Weian orbit. They had all been
called in just before the commandos switched over to Kissur. There are about
ten thousand commandos there and eighty five hundred of them are Aloms.
These ships rotate around Weia and we don't really know whose side they are
on. As long as the Federation agrees to negotiate with Kissur, they are
certainly the Federal troops. If the soldiers learn, however, that an order
came out to use nuclear weapons against Kissur..."
"What will happen then?"
"We have certain reasons to believe," the officer spoke surrounded by
dead silence, "that in this case our own commandos may commit a series of
terrorist attacks similar to Kissur's. They may do it on Earth, on Vain, on
Tennox - on the largest Federation planets."
"So, we just don't have an alternative - we have to negotiate with Mr.
Shavash," Bemish summarized.
"Yes. We have to do it at the highest level, as they demanded."
Truly, the delegation came out to be very impressive. It was led by the
state secretary Khaime Khodsky, the third person in the Federation after the
president. It also included the foreign affairs minister Camilla Leyson, the
defense minister, two four star generals (one of them commanded the Fourth
Space Army) and five senators.
They spent a while arguing about where to conduct the talks. Shavash
told them to fly to Assalah - just land on the field and we'll meet you
there. However, Bemish didn't like that idea. The belligerent financier
somehow happened to become one of the key figures during the talks and he
was especially appreciated by the army people who had insisted on immediate
cancellation of the negotiations. Bemish claimed that as the Assalah
spaceport director he couldn't guarantee the safety of the landing on purely
technical grounds. It was not a joke - there were almost no qualified air
traffic controllers left and the few that were still around had been
crapping in their pants with fright for three days in a row.
Shavash declared that he would not go to the capital.
"Are you afraid that you will be arrested?"
Shavash briskly objected that he was afraid of nothing but he didn't
trust a lot of people, first of all, Mr. Bemish who had learned some things
on Weia.
"Who have I learned it from?" Bemish exploded right in the face that
was smiling at him from the screen, "Hasn't it been you and Kissur?"
"State secretary, could you please, get this mutt out of here?" Shavash
demanded. "He is not even a Federation official!"
Bemish silently turned away and left the hall without waiting to be
shown to the door.
Behind the wall, in the foyer, General Ackles, the Fourth Space Army's
commander, sat surrounded by all the military HQ small fries and silently
studied the carved ceiling.
The ceiling was decorated with hanging grape bunches.
"That's a fancy room," the general said. "What does the writing above
the door say?"
"It's the name of the room," Bemish answered. "It's the Hall of Seven
Grape Bunches. It's quite a historic place. Here Emperor Attakh ordered the
head to be hacked off to his most faithful military commander."
"Why?" the general inquired.
"The people claim that it happened because of an imps' wedding. These
local demons needed a place for a wedding and they bribed a palace official.
The demons had fun in the hall all night and no correct decisions can be
made here since. That's why the commander was executed."
The general gave a long turbid look to the company director and then
asked him,
"Have they arranged the meeting?"
"No. Shavash is afraid of coming to the capital."
"Do you understand what he wants?"
"Hell knows what he wants," Bemish said exasperatedly. "He can't really
want any territorial concessions, can he, general? And if he wants the
Earthmen to get off Weia, he doesn't even have to ask us about it. I think
that after what's happened, we will run away from this planet faster than a
mouse runs away from a fox."
"If they can't agree on where to hold the negotiations, it will all
fall through," the general noted.
Here, somebody carefully touched Bemish on the shoulder. The latter
turned around - the minister of the police, Mr. Akhotoi stood behind him.
"They would like to talk to you," Akhotoi said, "Could you, please,
follow me?"
Akhotoi walked Bemish down hotel corridors, where frightened brass gods
squinted their eyes from the daylight lamps, and down garden paths covered
with yellow sand. Akhotoi walked Bemish to a small pavilion with a roof that
resembled swallow's wings and opened the doors in front of him.
A slim man with a white, almost transparent face and flying eyebrows
sat inside the pavilion. Even though the man wore European dress, Bemish
recognized the Emperor almost immediately and he was jolted a bit. It was
quite surprising that during the last three days of the crisis when
everybody - Kissur, zealots, governmental officials and even Earthmen - had
the Emperor's name on their tongue tips the entire time, nobody, as far as
Bemish remembered, heard anything from the Emperor himself. And nobody
discussed anything with him. Or was that really the case? Did Kissur call
the Emperor?
Another man stood next to the Emperor - an Empire's ex-first minister
Nan also known as David Steighton.
"Bow immediately," the police minister hissed from behind.
Bemish hurriedly created something between a bow and a one knee stand
and as he was rising, he saw a sarcastic smile on Nan's face.
"Good day, Mr. Bemish," Emperor Varnazd's voice was quiet as usual and
it somewhat resembled a child's cry. "I am glad to see you hale. Tell me,
what," here the Emperor stumbled "does my vice minister of finance, Shavash,
want from the Federation?"
"Is he still a vice minister? Hasn't he been declared a criminal?"
The Emperor looked sulky. That's right. Shavash had so many friends now
that even the Emperor would not even dare to withdraw his appointment. Damn
it, the man was blackmailing the whole Galaxy and his state was too timid
even to kick him in the butt! That was no good. It looked like an authorized
Empire official would be making demands of the Earthmen.
"It would be very hard for me to declare Kissur a criminal," the
Emperor whispered. "What do they want?"
"I don't know. They will announce it only when they meet the
delegation."
"Nan is saying the same," the Emperor spoke, turning his face towards
the figure standing soundlessly next to a carved column. "But he landed in
Assalah."
That was news for Bemish. He knew that the ex-first minister was flying
to Weia but to land in the spaceport taken over by the terrorists...
"When will the talks start?"
"It's unknown. Our delegation is not going to go to Assalah and Shavash
is scared to death of going to the capital of the county where he is an
authorized official."
The sarcasm in Bemish's voice was too evident and the Emperor looked
petulant.
"The talks can take place in my palace," sovereign Varnazd said. "I
swear that both sides will be safe here. I don't think that our troops or
Earth's security services would dare to smear our traditions and start any
violence in my palace. I also don't think that Mr. Shavash would dare refuse
coming into his sovereign's palace when the sovereign guarrantees his
safety."
The sovereign lowered his head showing that the meeting came to an end.
Bemish bowed to take a leave when suddenly the Emperor said quietly,
"What about Kissur? How is he? He looked so pale on the screen..."
"Kissur feels like a fish in the river," Bemish assured him, "unlike
the three thousand men he killed yesterday."
And he left.
Of course, Shavash didn't dare to ignore the guarantees given by the
sovereign. Really, if an Empire's vice minister, defending the sovereign's
interests, refused to come to the palace, in the least, it would look like
he handed an official resignation notice.
A helicopter with Shavash accompanied by a dozen of his bodyguards
landed at the sovereign's palace at six in the morning. Palace guards with
expressionless faces walked the incomers to the Rainbow Pavilion where the
Federation delegates had gathered.
The meeting took place on the first floor, in the Hall of White Clouds.
The Earthmen sat around the table and silently studied their notebooks
involuntarily glancing at the beautiful jars of pure silver decorated with
dancing swans and peacocks. The palace servants brought these jars in,
filled with special palace wine aged on nut leaves mixed with pine needles.
The state secretary Khodsky was probably very thirsty - he would
constantly wet his lips in a wine glass, sniff at the smell that felt wrong
at a diplomatic meeting and put the glass back down.
Bemish suddenly realized that conducting the negotiations in palace
territory handed certain advantages to Shavash. Everything here was filled
with traditions and Empire; the proficient palace servants put wondrous wine
jars on the table but they didn't even think about bringing mineral water in
plastic bottles. The people sitting here were quite well off and one of them
had almost had to resign a year ago having spent too much money refurnishing
a new Federation Defense building. However, the deeply alien luxury of this
hall, scaly pictures on the walls and silver beams that were round like the
sun could not but influence the delegates, albeit on a subconscious level.
Shavash, on the other hand, had visited this hall for dozens of times. He
was in his element.
At 6:15 they heard steps and Shavash walked into the meeting hall. He
wore a European suit and he was impeccably shaved but something foreign
entered the hall with him. Bemish sniffed and realized what happened -
instead of eau-de-cologne Shavash used an expensive local perfume. Bemish
unwillingly thought that it would throw the delegates off a bit. At the same
time, when Shavash started giving interviews to journalists, he would look
like a true Galaxy man - you could not film a perfume.
After some hesitation, state secretary Khodsky silently rose to meet
Shavash. The latter bowed to him and took a place across the table from
Khodsky. Bemish noticed Khodsky's nose twitching alertly taking the
unfamiliar smell in.
"We," the state secretary said, "fulfilled your requirements and
arrived at Weia. Now, we would like to listen to your conditions."
"We would like," Shavash answered, "you to accept the Empire of Great
Light into the Federation of Nineteen."
Bemish thought that he had missed something.
"We will withdraw from the confrontation and release the remaining
hostages," Shavash repeated, "if Weia joins the Federation of Nineteen as a
federation state."
Several seconds passed by in stunned silence.
"To achieve this," the Fourth Space Army commander acidly noted, "you
didn't have to declare a war on the Federation of Nineteen."
"On the contrary," Shavash objected, "if we hadn't declared a war, you
wouldn't have even considered our proposition. You would have calculated
quickly the cost of all the social programs and long-term investments that
you would have to run on Weia as a Federation state. Afterwards, you would
have politely told us that moral reasons would prevent you from taking
actions that could be considered as a annexation of an independent state."
Shavash was smiling. Bemish went cold. Really, incorporating Weia into
the Federation of Nineteen would solve many if not all of its problems...
But... Such a pile of money... Bemish imagined a barefoot street beggar
getting minimal Federation unemployment benefits.
"But," the state secretary broke off, "there are no precedents..."
"That's not true," Shavash replied, "In the first century BC, Latin
tribes declared a war on Rome trying to obtain Roman citizenship. During the
Mexican War of 1848, the radical party of Mexico insisted that the country
should be annexed by the United States. It's sad, gentlemen, that a Weian
knows your history better than you do."
Bemish grinned. Referring to the past was indeed typical for a Weian
official. Shavash continued, smiling.
"Imagine that you reject our proposal and continue the war. Accordingly
to well-known reasons, your mobile tactical units are unreliable and you
can't use them. There are too many Weians there. It means that you will have
to destroy half of the Empire with strategic weapons. The reputation of the
Federation of Nineteen will be horribly compromised!
At the same time, you will exhibit unspeakable cruelty destroying a
completely powerless country and you will exhibit unspeakable weakness.
Really, what's can you say about the fighting ability of the country when
half of its shock troops comes from a potential enemy?! The Federation's
authority will be shattered. Gera and other enemies of yours will obtain a
moral advantage. The Federation members, that have been demanding
independence, will hurry to leave the union - they will declare that they
completely disagree with Earth's politics."
Shavash paused, sipped on his wine and continued.
"Let's imagine now that you agree to our proposal and the Federation of
Nineteen becomes the Federation of Twenty. It will be a triumph of democracy
and freedom! An empire, a whole planet voluntarily sheds its freedom and
independence to become a member of the Federation! The Federation doesn't
need any weapons - it simply wins hearts over!"
"It's crazy," the state secretary muttered.
"This century is the time of separatism. Maybe the Empire is fated to
turn this process back. Vadda desires independence. Won't its people change
their opinion after the Empire's example? In any case, local politicians
will find it more difficult to assure the nation that real happiness will
come when the politicians don't have to obey the metropolis any longer."
The state secretary's eyes lit up. He arrived at the Empire, having
interrupted negotiations with Vadda. This planet was going to leave the
Federation either with a scandal or with a huge scandal. Merry imps danced
across the state secretary's eyes as he was thinking about Shavash's words.
Meanwhile, Shavash continued.
"What are the gains of winning a war? You take over a foreign country
for the present and protect your future. What are the drawbacks of winning a
war? The losers are embittered and they want revenge; the neighbors get
wary. We offer you all the gains of a victorious war without its single
drawback!
Our proposal takes care of a multitude of problems.
For instance, there is the problem of the lands surrounding the Empire.
Their development has already started. It will clearly cause conflicts
between the sovereign Empire and the Federation. If we are to join, the
reasons for the conflicts will be gone.
If you let us get away with our actions, you will demonstrate your
weakness. Having declared a war on us, you will exhibit weakness and cruelty
simultaneously. Both winning and losing the war will be catastrophic for you
- you will find yourselves internationally isolated. You will look like
demagogues instead of democrats. The Federation forces developing planets to
respect the human rights. However, when the same planets ask it to uphold
human rights, the Federation drops nuclear bombs on them having decided that
upholding the human rights is just too expensive.
If you reject our proposal, even a victorious war will be catastrophic
for you. If you accept it, you remain a beacon of democracy and freedom. In
the case of war, you will find yourself without tactical troops but with a
reputation of a militaristic state. In the case of peace, you will obtain
again the most reliable soldiers in the Galaxy and the reputation of a
peaceful country!"
"What will happen to the Emperor?" the state secretary asked.
"What's wrong about having an Emperor?" the official objected. "There
are kings and emperors in various states of Earth - in Arabia, in Belgium.
The Emperor will be the symbol of the nation and the country will have a
first minister and universal elections."
"And Earth will be accused of forcing democracy on you, won't it?" the
state secretary inquired.
Shavash spread his hands.
"It's unlikely," he said, "that Earth will be accused in forcing
democracy on us in the current circumstances."
Somebody snickered.
"Also," the official added, "we have already silenced the most
bellicose blabbermouths so that you won't get too upset."
"You did it as preliminary measure before instituting democracy,"
General Al Saad noted.
Shavash preferred to ignore the comment and continued, "We are not
talking about Weia; we are talking about the Federation. Will it prefer to
become internationally isolated and fall apart or to obtain a strategic
stronghold and flourish? Take into account that in twenty years you will
have to spend forty times more for a war against Gera than you would have to
invest now into economics and infrastructure of the Federation's new state!"
"We will think your proposal over," the state secretary said.
Bemish left the hall together with Fifth Fleet commander Al Saad.
"What do you think about this?" Bemish inquired.
"Do you know," the general answered, "this joke? A man is walking down
a forest and an old woman points a blaster at him. "Weren't you going to
rape me, dearie?" -"Absolutely not, granny!" - "You don't have a choice,
dearie!"
Bemish burst out in laughter.
Five minutes later, tired and hungry Bemish ascended into a small
triangular hall. The tables for the delegation stood there, filled with
appetizers and dishes. The guards were everywhere and a dozen of journalists
waiting for the negotiations to finish, hunted the solitary delegates.
Having come in, Bemish discovered that the adroit journalists and
attendants had already taken care of the food and only the most exotic
dishes were left. Bemish made himself comfortable next to a dish of a
sauteed dog and Al Saad, having hesitated for a moment, followed him.
A wide TV screen stood in the right corner of the hall. It showed a
Weian meeting next to the palace walls, first, and the Geran envoy's speech,
second. The Geran thanked Kissur and the selfless Weians for uncovering the
intrigues of Earth warmongers. He confirmed that Gera was ready to assist
the exploited and mislead Weian people if the Federation dared to attack
them.
Then Shavash entered the hall accompanied by two or three attendants.
Shavash probably didn't want to approach the Assalah director but he
clearly wanted to eat. The only edible object left on the table was the
sauteed dog that Bemish sat next to.
Shavash came to the dog and started cutting it with a knife. Bemish
pointedly turned away.
The anchorman on the TV screen read the announcement of Geran
president. The president promised assistance to Weians and everybody else.
He suggested to everybody exploited by the Federation to unite in defense of
the betrayed Weians and to join their ranks fighting "the corrupted
democracy of the Federation."
The TV set was not performing well. An indistinct web of blue and green
lines pulsated on the screen. It was an indication that a powerful two
channel trans communication unit was working somewhere nearby. The state
secretary was probably speaking directly to the Federation president. Bemish
stared fixedly at the green lines on the screen as if he could figure the
conversation's content out of them.
The palace servants came in, changed tablecloths and covered the tables
with new dishes. However, Bemish was full. In about an hour, green and blue
ripples disappeared and, almost immediately, envoy Severin entered the hall.
Severin approached Shavash and asked him to walk upstairs.
"The Federation president would like to talk to you," he said quietly,
"on the transcom."
Shavash walked upstairs; Bemish and the general followed him
simultaneously. A number of people were present in the room upstairs - a
dozen diplomats and the same number of technicians. Nobody stopped Bemish
and the general when they entered the room following Shavash.
A simple computer with a transcom unit connected directly to the
parallel port stood on the table. Shavash leaned over the keyboard, somebody
quickly pushed a button and president's Kerry face appeared in front of
Shavash on the wide monitor screen.
"Mr. Shavash?" the president said.
"I am listening to you," the small official replied.
"I discussed your proposal with the heads of the Federation states. We
concluded that it would put the Federation in a difficult, almost critical
financial situation. However, it is mutually profitable and honorable. The
executive heads of the Federation will agree to your proposal on one
condition."
"What is it?"
"Your personal actions, Mr. Shavash, are extraordinary, or more
directly, monstrous. You obtained quite a scandalous reputation even on your
own planet. It's possible that, thanks to your successful actions, the
people will choose you as the head of the new Federation state. It will be
very unpleasant for us to see you in the Assembly of the heads of the
states. Our condition is the following - we will accept Weia into the
Federation as long as you don't participate in the new elections. If you
really care about your country's well-being, you will find it easy to agree
to our condition."
For a while, Shavash expressionlessly looked at the screen. Bemish
suddenly recalled with malice how the small official had regretted a while
ago that the Federation hadn't conquered Weia and he, Shavash, couldn't
become the Federation Emperor's slave and worm his way into the Assembly of
the heads of the states.
"I agree," the first vice minister of finance finally said.
Half an hour later, Bemish sat in the garden with a laptop in his
hands, deeply immersed in calculations. The year before last, the total
volume of direct and portfolio investments into the Empire's economy was
four billion dinars. The last year, thanks to Bemish's example, it was
sixteen billion. Just before the elections, the investment flow increased a
bit more and it dropped almost to zero afterwards.
The total sum of allowances, benefits and investment credits for a new
Federation member would be, accordingly to Bemish's calculations, six
thousand four billion dinars - six trillion.
Somebody approached and stood next to him. Bemish turned around and saw
Nan and Shavash.
"Why are you pouting, Terence," Shavash asked. "Can you imagine how
much Assalah stocks will cost tomorrow?"
"That's why I am upset," Bemish grinned. "You could at least give me a
hint. Confess, how much have you made on this deal?"
"I don't really know yet," the small official spoke. "I, however, have
a gift for you, Mr. Bemish. During the crisis, I took it upon myself to buy
Assalah bonds at the total sum of three hundred million dinars. On the
average, I paid eight cent for a dinar. I would like to give you a half of
them."
Shavash paused.
"Also, as you remember, I am authorized to invest Special Weian fund's
money in whatever way I see fit. During the emergency, the fund was buying
everything it could."
Bemish raised his eyes at him, shocked. Of course, he immediately
realized that for every stock that Shavash had bought for the fund, he had
bought twenty for himself.
Bemish realized that the foxy official managed the most astonishing
insider deal in the stock market history - he had dropped the market's
rating at the very bottom and had bought everything. He knew that after his
ultimatum, Weia would obtain the federal exchange status and his investments
would increase tenfold. Suddenly Bemish understood why Shavash agreed to the
president's condition - not to participate in the elections - so easily.
"Why did you instigate the whole thing?" Bemish asked. "Did you want to
get 2000% profit in ten days? Were you trying to save your country or were
you spinning an insider deal?"
"Where is insider trading here?" Shavash was surprised. "I didn't know
how your government would reply to my proposal."
"And still, having reaped your profits, you refused to become the first
minister of Weia."
Here Shavash smiled slowly and victoriously.
"There are a lot of people," he said, "who are worthier of this
appointment than I am. At a certain point, Mr. Nan was dismissed from the
first minister position under the pretext that he was a citizen of another
country. They passed a law that made it impossible for foreigners to hold
governmental appointments. Now, we are all citizens of the same state and
the law is no longer valid. You have to agree, that it will be quite
advantageous if an Earthman represents our country in the Assembly of the
heads of the states."
Bemish was completely shocked.
"Shavash, everybody thought that you betrayed Nan."
"Never follow the general opinion, Terence. If you had thought better
about me, you would have been a billion or two richer today."
Having said this, the small official bowed ceremoniously to the
Earthman and walked down the path, back to the carved spires and onion
shaped turrets of the main palace pavilions.
Shavash! The fanatics hate you."
Kissur left the room, smiling; he was probably going to give some
orders. The official silently beckoned Bemish with his finger and the latter
crawled off the sofa, fighting the pain. Shavash approached a window and
pulled the blinds up. Bemish stretched his head over Shavash's shoulder and
looked out of the window.
Out of the director's office windows, a beautiful view opened up at the
landing field strewn with the black bodies of fighter helicopters and
commandos in spotty camouflage. But the construction's director attention
was pulled towards something else. They had used railroad tracks to pull a
huge cargo crane RV-37 into the middle of the field. The crane was generally
used to correct the positioning of rockets and to load containers heavier
than 700 tons. This time, the crane's load was much smaller than the maximum
allowed weight. The crane's jib pointed to the sky and twelve... no,
thirteen bodies were swinging under it and Bemish recognized his ex-deputy -
young Ashinik - hanging to the side. Two squeaking yellow vultures were
already circling the crane...
"The zealots and rebels," Shavash said coolly, "disturbed the Empire,
babbled too much and addled people's minds. It was not possible to catch
them all at once - they hid, showed up only separately and threatened to
avenge the deaths of their comrades. Now we gathered all of the zealots in
one place and destroyed this filth once and forever. Now, when we are not
bothered by the crazy gangs, we can negotiate with the Federation as a real
state. The simple people that believed zealots will believe Kissur. The
officials terrified by zealots will trust me."
Shavash turned away from the window. The setting sun was burning and
melting in the small official's eyes, his half-opened lips were twisted in a
smile...
"Why?" Bemish asked suddenly. "Why do you hate us, Shavash? I don't
mean myself, I mean the Federation."
The official's face contorted.
"Why? Can't you figure it out, Terence? I hate you because you are so
clean; I hate your sparkling cars, your gleaming wraps, your advertisement
boards. I hate you because when you arrive at the dirtiest town, you build a
hotel for yourself without dirt and poverty. A poor people hate a rich one,
haven't you known that?"
"I didn't know that you were poor," Bemish muttered. "I thought that
you stole enough from your own people."
Shavash laughed.
"I was not always rich - have you forgotten that? Do you know how I
became literate? I stood next to announcement boards and compared the
herald's words with letters. My father was the poorest shaman in the
village; I stole on the streets and drank out of mud pools. I was lucky - I
met Nan and instead of ending up in a gang, I ended up in the White Buzhva
Lycee. Not that it would make any difference to an Earthman... When I was an
official seven years ago, I had been waiting for my arrest, torture and
exile every day. Have you ever expected being arrested, Terence? Even if you
were arrested for DWI, I don't think that you would be thrown in an earth
pit."
"I don't argue that," Bemish agreed. "The earth pits are a strong point
of your civilization."
"They are a strong point, indeed, Terence - life lacks spice without
them. It's like meat without salt." Shavash swung his hand sharply.
"When you convey our demands for negotiations Terence, don't forget to
stress that they should take place at the highest level. The Federation
president will head the Galactic delegation and I will head the Weian one."
"You are both nuts," Bemish muttered glumly. "Damn the day when I
thought that you, Shavash, were a normal official only because you took a
lot of bribes."
Accompanied by Kissur, Bemish walked down the main spaceport building.
It was in somewhat better condition than he had expected - he saw even
occasional unbroken bottles in the bars. The floor had been cleaned recently
and the main hall's announcement board still carried the old slogan "Long
live the party of people's freedom."
The building had suffered several millions worth of damage but Bemish,
surprisingly, didn't really care. Really, yesterday morning he had been sure
that they would fire meson artillery directly at the construction. What was
a torn apart monitor next to a SpaceExtra stand after that? Ashinik,
Ashinik! Did you think that after demanding Kissur's appointment to the
first minister that the latter would hang you on a tower crane in twenty
four hours?!
"Where are common zealots?"
Kissur ran his hand across his neck. Bemish realized why the floor had
been recently washed.
"How many of them were here?"
"It was no more than a hundred," Kissur lied coolly.
"Bullshit! There were more than two thousand of them!"
Kissur shrugged his shoulders.
"Can I see colonel Rogov?" Bemish asked.
They walked up a motionless ascender to the second floor and entered
the air traffic control room.
The colonel lay on the table. Somebody had placed a white pillow under
his head, crossed his hands on his chest and placed a funeral wreath made
out of white flowers. It was an Alom burial custom for warriors.
"Have they killed him?"
"He was a real warrior and he didn't need another's hand to pull the
trigger," Kissur answered.
Bemish shifted the wreath up and saw a barely noticeable hole at the
colonel's temple under large whitecandle petals."
"Should I have done the same?" Bemish asked.
"You are a businessman. It's not yours."
Bemish lowered the wreath silently and left the room.
Kissur stayed for a moment to rearrange the flowers correctly.
"I am glad that there are still warriors left on Earth," Kissur said.
It proved impossible later to find out how many zealots had been killed
that day accordingly to Shavash's and Kissur's orders. It was absolutely
known that not a single zealot present in the spaceport during the night of
ninth had escaped it alive.
Shavash and Kissur always claimed that it had been about one hundred to
one hundred fifty corpses. They were interested in bringing the estimated
number of "lunatic maniacs" down. Accordingly to Bemish's calculations, at
least three thousand zealots crowded in the spaceport when the whole thing
started. They had all been let inside the buildings and on the landing
field. Most of these peasants had never seen before wondrous buildings of
glass and steel where staircase moved on their own and announcement ran
across the ceiling, where they couldn't even squat in a corner to take a
crap. Few of them walked away, returning to their homes, on the second day
of their stay in the spaceport, especially since "yellow coats" blocked the
roads. It became clear why Kissur had let the passenger hostages go - he
didn't want any witnesses around and he didn't want them to get in the way
accidentally.
Later, Bemish dragged some details of the massacre out of his own
employees. Everything happened only after the paratroopers had come in.
There were two thousand of Aloms in the spaceport and there were two trained
supermen per every unarmed peasant. They killed the zealots with knives and
bare hands; they didn't use any firearms or lasers. They were not afraid of
noise, especially since lasers didn't make any. However, they were afraid of
damaging the equipment and they didn't want a laser ray, for instance, to
jab into the floor and leave a trace that they would not be able to hide
afterwards. They accidentally killed a dozen personnel including the head
technician of the heating systems. He was the only heating systems tech left
in the spaceport and they almost got themselves into a crisis. Thankfully, a
commando sergeant figured the system out.
Then they performed the great cleaning of the building - they washed
the floors, scrubbed guts of the walls, checked everything mercilessly - so
that, God forbid, somebody's brains would not get stuck in a bar behind a
box with salted peanuts.
They dragged the corpses away to the landing field, opened the
thermoconcrete up and burned the hell out of everything with modern weapons
- neutron guns and annihilators. Not a speck was left of the corpses and the
ground was baked for two hundred meters down into a glass pancake... Then
they sealed thermoconcrete back up and everything was tip-top. They
threatened the personnel to cut their families down to a fifth removed
degree, including children in their mothers' bellies if anybody spoke an
extra word to the media. One hundred fifty people were all. You could count
them - all the stiffs were present, lying in a neat pile next to the cargo
terminal...
Concerning commandos, it was discovered that there were twenty six
hundred three Aloms and eighty six Earthmen in the division. Sixteen
Earthmen were officers. The most interesting part of it was that while all
non-Aloms had the opportunity to leave, some of them stayed. The colonel and
two more officers shot themselves and sixteen Earthmen, desperate
adventurers joined their comrades and went to Kissur the White Falcon. In
spite of the official Federation language being the only one allowed spoken
in the army, they had picked up some Alom on the way.
They took Bemish on a brief trip around the building that belonged to
him. At every corner, he saw people wearing Federation military uniforms and
babbling in Alom. In the air traffic control office, he saw a small group of
personnel that were so sleep deprived that they were no longer frightened of
anything. The guards walked Bemish to a car that stood on the landing field
with the engine already running and politely suggested to him to get out of
there.
Bemish silently climbed into the car and pushed the accelerator. One
after another, the gates on the landing field opened, letting him through.
Bemish drove down the same road that they had taken yesterday bringing him
in.
Rice fields still glistened in the sun and olive trees still stood
along the old road. The soldiers and the zealots had torn all the fruits off
breaking the branches in the process. Olive trees were always planted along
the roads - road dust covered fruits forcing them to ripe quicker.
A fighting banner of the White Falcon clan and a standard of the Empire
were swaying above his villa. Bemish kept going forward.
Kissur, however, still didn't have that many soldiers and it looked to
Bemish like they were mostly concentrated in the spaceport. Few posts were
present on the road - they were constantly on the line with the
headquarters. Next to the turn leading to the villa, Bemish noticed a dozen
commandos.
A line of "yellow jackets" and Empire troops started soon after, a
kilometer and a half away from the villa. Journalists lingered behind them.
The soldiers at the road block waved their hands and their assault
rifles at him. A studded chain lay across the road, Bemish slowed down,
turned across the chain and waited - a large pack of policemen, journalists
and Earthmen was running towards him.
Strangely, there were many more journalists this time and Bemish could
only blink at the camera flashes. The reasons for that were pretty simple.
Most of the officials that had tried to keep the media away were now in
Assalah.
"Are you all right, sir?" a guard asked. Another clicked the gun bolt.
The assault rifle in his hands gleamed in the sun reflecting rice fields and
clouds turned upwards down.
"Yes," Bemish said climbing out of the car. Five minutes later, a
police helicopter with a yellow band on the side - the symbol of the
Department of Serenity and Justice - was flying him to the capital.
The helicopter landed next to the sovereign's palace, right at Seven
Grains Hotel. Here, the highest provincial functionaries used to await their
award or execution; here, the head of the sect that wanted to make peace to
Earthmen had been killed eleven months ago.
A whole flock of journalists rushed towards Bemish. The first among
them was a guy wearing a square pattern sleeveless shirt. This guy had
written a while ago that the Assalah Company director hadn't been proficient
in Weian and had mistakenly taken metaphorical "demons" for a literate
statement.
"Is it true that the Federation troops switched their alliance to
Kissur?"
"It is true," Bemish replied.
"Why?"
"The division was 90% Alom," Bemish replied. "At the same time, there
was not a single Alom officer in it. So, the Federation soldiers decided to
fight for the man who belonged to the clan that their ancestors swore fealty
to. They didn't want to fight for the people that paid them three hundred
credits a year. I was told that the other commando divisions had the same
number of Aloms in them."
"About ten members of the emergency committee ended up in Kissur's
hands. Kissur demanded their arrest and execution. What happened to them? Is
it true that Shavash is dead?"
"Shavash is quite alive," Bemish said. "His quarrel with Kissur was an
utter fabrication. He called the Federation soldiers in to provide Kissur
with troops."
Everybody gaped - they didn't know anything yet and Bemish was the
first one to openly state what had happened.
"What about the zealots?" a journalist shouted, "Are they also in?"
"No," Bemish said.
"The fight between Shavash and zealots could end only with one of the
sides being destroyed. Once the Federation soldiers had switched their
alliance to Kissur, he used them to exterminate the zealots. I saw the
sect's leaders hanging on a cargo crane with my own eyes."
It was astonishing that nobody asked at that moment what happened to
the rest of the zealots. Somehow everybody decided that "the extermination
of zealots" was limited only to the execution of a dozen leaders.
"What does Kissur want?" somebody shouted. "They demanded that the
corrupted government to step down and now half of the corrupted government
is hanging out in Assalah! What's gonna happen next?"
"Kissur has no more demands for his own government," Bemish explained.
"Kissur would like Weia and the Federation to conduct talks about their
future relations. The negotiations are to be held at the highest possible
level."
After this brief but shocking interview, Bemish entered the hotel where
they were already waiting for him.
In the Hall of the Gifts from Afar, a table made in the shape of a
grape bunch stood on gilded legs that resembled ram's hooves. At this table,
provincial governors had officially delivered gifts to palace department
heads. Now twenty people sat behind it. Bemish recognized half a dozen of
them - Federation envoy Severin, general Stesh, the deceased Giles' boss,
ex-first minister Yanik and a couple of high Weian officials. The others
were Earthmen - five senators and three people with general insignias.
"They flew in here without troops," Bemish thought about the people in
military uniforms. "They don't make generals out of Aloms, they only make
soldiers out of them."
Bemish's story about his stay in the terrorists' nest was heard out in
dead silence.
"Are you sure that there is not a single zealot left in the spaceport?"
envoy Severin asked again.
"There is not a single alive zealot present," Bemish assured him.
"But it totally changes the situation," a delegate said. "We wouldn't
have been able to conduct negotiations with zealots. Shavash's presence
changes the picture. He is a normal person..."
"Shavash is a normal man, isn't he?!" Bemish shouted. "Would, in your
opinion, a normal man get three thousand people together just to exterminate
them all?"
"Well, you can't deny that it improved the situation in the country.
Shavash's desire to get rid of destabilizing forces..."
"He wouldn't give a fig about them being destabilizing forces! Shavash
would make a deal with destabilizing forces, demons, devils, Gera, with God
knows whom. He just had a misfortune to have a personal quarrel with the
zealots' spiritual head and so he killed them all."
"What are you suggesting we do?" it was Severin talking.
"There are no more hostages in the spaceport. There are only terrorists
and soldiers that betrayed their oath. We have the right to destroy them by
any means accessible to a superpower," Bemish said.
"Do you mean nuclear weapons?" Severin inquired.
"I suggest doing what Kissur would do in our situation. He would not
think for a moment about negotiating with an enemy. He would not think about
it even if there were three thousand hostages! We should not do what Kissur
expects us to."
One general elbowed another quietly and asked him about the
relationship between Bemish and the spaceport. Having found out that Bemish
was certainly the owner of the property to be destroyed, he gazed at the
businessman with satisfaction.
"I have a firm opinion," Bemish continued, "that we should not hold any
negotiations with Shavash. This man doesn't even know what ethics is,
whether is has wings or a tail. He treats people in the following way, "If
one parrot keels over, we'll buy another one." He will cheat you because he
will lie to you about the things that you take for granted. You wouldn't
even consider checking them out as you wouldn't consider testing the
gravitational constant."
"Unfortunately," a counter-intelligence officer spoke, "there are six
large paratrooper divisions currently in Weian orbit. They had all been
called in just before the commandos switched over to Kissur. There are about
ten thousand commandos there and eighty five hundred of them are Aloms.
These ships rotate around Weia and we don't really know whose side they are
on. As long as the Federation agrees to negotiate with Kissur, they are
certainly the Federal troops. If the soldiers learn, however, that an order
came out to use nuclear weapons against Kissur..."
"What will happen then?"
"We have certain reasons to believe," the officer spoke surrounded by
dead silence, "that in this case our own commandos may commit a series of
terrorist attacks similar to Kissur's. They may do it on Earth, on Vain, on
Tennox - on the largest Federation planets."
"So, we just don't have an alternative - we have to negotiate with Mr.
Shavash," Bemish summarized.
"Yes. We have to do it at the highest level, as they demanded."
Truly, the delegation came out to be very impressive. It was led by the
state secretary Khaime Khodsky, the third person in the Federation after the
president. It also included the foreign affairs minister Camilla Leyson, the
defense minister, two four star generals (one of them commanded the Fourth
Space Army) and five senators.
They spent a while arguing about where to conduct the talks. Shavash
told them to fly to Assalah - just land on the field and we'll meet you
there. However, Bemish didn't like that idea. The belligerent financier
somehow happened to become one of the key figures during the talks and he
was especially appreciated by the army people who had insisted on immediate
cancellation of the negotiations. Bemish claimed that as the Assalah
spaceport director he couldn't guarantee the safety of the landing on purely
technical grounds. It was not a joke - there were almost no qualified air
traffic controllers left and the few that were still around had been
crapping in their pants with fright for three days in a row.
Shavash declared that he would not go to the capital.
"Are you afraid that you will be arrested?"
Shavash briskly objected that he was afraid of nothing but he didn't
trust a lot of people, first of all, Mr. Bemish who had learned some things
on Weia.
"Who have I learned it from?" Bemish exploded right in the face that
was smiling at him from the screen, "Hasn't it been you and Kissur?"
"State secretary, could you please, get this mutt out of here?" Shavash
demanded. "He is not even a Federation official!"
Bemish silently turned away and left the hall without waiting to be
shown to the door.
Behind the wall, in the foyer, General Ackles, the Fourth Space Army's
commander, sat surrounded by all the military HQ small fries and silently
studied the carved ceiling.
The ceiling was decorated with hanging grape bunches.
"That's a fancy room," the general said. "What does the writing above
the door say?"
"It's the name of the room," Bemish answered. "It's the Hall of Seven
Grape Bunches. It's quite a historic place. Here Emperor Attakh ordered the
head to be hacked off to his most faithful military commander."
"Why?" the general inquired.
"The people claim that it happened because of an imps' wedding. These
local demons needed a place for a wedding and they bribed a palace official.
The demons had fun in the hall all night and no correct decisions can be
made here since. That's why the commander was executed."
The general gave a long turbid look to the company director and then
asked him,
"Have they arranged the meeting?"
"No. Shavash is afraid of coming to the capital."
"Do you understand what he wants?"
"Hell knows what he wants," Bemish said exasperatedly. "He can't really
want any territorial concessions, can he, general? And if he wants the
Earthmen to get off Weia, he doesn't even have to ask us about it. I think
that after what's happened, we will run away from this planet faster than a
mouse runs away from a fox."
"If they can't agree on where to hold the negotiations, it will all
fall through," the general noted.
Here, somebody carefully touched Bemish on the shoulder. The latter
turned around - the minister of the police, Mr. Akhotoi stood behind him.
"They would like to talk to you," Akhotoi said, "Could you, please,
follow me?"
Akhotoi walked Bemish down hotel corridors, where frightened brass gods
squinted their eyes from the daylight lamps, and down garden paths covered
with yellow sand. Akhotoi walked Bemish to a small pavilion with a roof that
resembled swallow's wings and opened the doors in front of him.
A slim man with a white, almost transparent face and flying eyebrows
sat inside the pavilion. Even though the man wore European dress, Bemish
recognized the Emperor almost immediately and he was jolted a bit. It was
quite surprising that during the last three days of the crisis when
everybody - Kissur, zealots, governmental officials and even Earthmen - had
the Emperor's name on their tongue tips the entire time, nobody, as far as
Bemish remembered, heard anything from the Emperor himself. And nobody
discussed anything with him. Or was that really the case? Did Kissur call
the Emperor?
Another man stood next to the Emperor - an Empire's ex-first minister
Nan also known as David Steighton.
"Bow immediately," the police minister hissed from behind.
Bemish hurriedly created something between a bow and a one knee stand
and as he was rising, he saw a sarcastic smile on Nan's face.
"Good day, Mr. Bemish," Emperor Varnazd's voice was quiet as usual and
it somewhat resembled a child's cry. "I am glad to see you hale. Tell me,
what," here the Emperor stumbled "does my vice minister of finance, Shavash,
want from the Federation?"
"Is he still a vice minister? Hasn't he been declared a criminal?"
The Emperor looked sulky. That's right. Shavash had so many friends now
that even the Emperor would not even dare to withdraw his appointment. Damn
it, the man was blackmailing the whole Galaxy and his state was too timid
even to kick him in the butt! That was no good. It looked like an authorized
Empire official would be making demands of the Earthmen.
"It would be very hard for me to declare Kissur a criminal," the
Emperor whispered. "What do they want?"
"I don't know. They will announce it only when they meet the
delegation."
"Nan is saying the same," the Emperor spoke, turning his face towards
the figure standing soundlessly next to a carved column. "But he landed in
Assalah."
That was news for Bemish. He knew that the ex-first minister was flying
to Weia but to land in the spaceport taken over by the terrorists...
"When will the talks start?"
"It's unknown. Our delegation is not going to go to Assalah and Shavash
is scared to death of going to the capital of the county where he is an
authorized official."
The sarcasm in Bemish's voice was too evident and the Emperor looked
petulant.
"The talks can take place in my palace," sovereign Varnazd said. "I
swear that both sides will be safe here. I don't think that our troops or
Earth's security services would dare to smear our traditions and start any
violence in my palace. I also don't think that Mr. Shavash would dare refuse
coming into his sovereign's palace when the sovereign guarrantees his
safety."
The sovereign lowered his head showing that the meeting came to an end.
Bemish bowed to take a leave when suddenly the Emperor said quietly,
"What about Kissur? How is he? He looked so pale on the screen..."
"Kissur feels like a fish in the river," Bemish assured him, "unlike
the three thousand men he killed yesterday."
And he left.
Of course, Shavash didn't dare to ignore the guarantees given by the
sovereign. Really, if an Empire's vice minister, defending the sovereign's
interests, refused to come to the palace, in the least, it would look like
he handed an official resignation notice.
A helicopter with Shavash accompanied by a dozen of his bodyguards
landed at the sovereign's palace at six in the morning. Palace guards with
expressionless faces walked the incomers to the Rainbow Pavilion where the
Federation delegates had gathered.
The meeting took place on the first floor, in the Hall of White Clouds.
The Earthmen sat around the table and silently studied their notebooks
involuntarily glancing at the beautiful jars of pure silver decorated with
dancing swans and peacocks. The palace servants brought these jars in,
filled with special palace wine aged on nut leaves mixed with pine needles.
The state secretary Khodsky was probably very thirsty - he would
constantly wet his lips in a wine glass, sniff at the smell that felt wrong
at a diplomatic meeting and put the glass back down.
Bemish suddenly realized that conducting the negotiations in palace
territory handed certain advantages to Shavash. Everything here was filled
with traditions and Empire; the proficient palace servants put wondrous wine
jars on the table but they didn't even think about bringing mineral water in
plastic bottles. The people sitting here were quite well off and one of them
had almost had to resign a year ago having spent too much money refurnishing
a new Federation Defense building. However, the deeply alien luxury of this
hall, scaly pictures on the walls and silver beams that were round like the
sun could not but influence the delegates, albeit on a subconscious level.
Shavash, on the other hand, had visited this hall for dozens of times. He
was in his element.
At 6:15 they heard steps and Shavash walked into the meeting hall. He
wore a European suit and he was impeccably shaved but something foreign
entered the hall with him. Bemish sniffed and realized what happened -
instead of eau-de-cologne Shavash used an expensive local perfume. Bemish
unwillingly thought that it would throw the delegates off a bit. At the same
time, when Shavash started giving interviews to journalists, he would look
like a true Galaxy man - you could not film a perfume.
After some hesitation, state secretary Khodsky silently rose to meet
Shavash. The latter bowed to him and took a place across the table from
Khodsky. Bemish noticed Khodsky's nose twitching alertly taking the
unfamiliar smell in.
"We," the state secretary said, "fulfilled your requirements and
arrived at Weia. Now, we would like to listen to your conditions."
"We would like," Shavash answered, "you to accept the Empire of Great
Light into the Federation of Nineteen."
Bemish thought that he had missed something.
"We will withdraw from the confrontation and release the remaining
hostages," Shavash repeated, "if Weia joins the Federation of Nineteen as a
federation state."
Several seconds passed by in stunned silence.
"To achieve this," the Fourth Space Army commander acidly noted, "you
didn't have to declare a war on the Federation of Nineteen."
"On the contrary," Shavash objected, "if we hadn't declared a war, you
wouldn't have even considered our proposition. You would have calculated
quickly the cost of all the social programs and long-term investments that
you would have to run on Weia as a Federation state. Afterwards, you would
have politely told us that moral reasons would prevent you from taking
actions that could be considered as a annexation of an independent state."
Shavash was smiling. Bemish went cold. Really, incorporating Weia into
the Federation of Nineteen would solve many if not all of its problems...
But... Such a pile of money... Bemish imagined a barefoot street beggar
getting minimal Federation unemployment benefits.
"But," the state secretary broke off, "there are no precedents..."
"That's not true," Shavash replied, "In the first century BC, Latin
tribes declared a war on Rome trying to obtain Roman citizenship. During the
Mexican War of 1848, the radical party of Mexico insisted that the country
should be annexed by the United States. It's sad, gentlemen, that a Weian
knows your history better than you do."
Bemish grinned. Referring to the past was indeed typical for a Weian
official. Shavash continued, smiling.
"Imagine that you reject our proposal and continue the war. Accordingly
to well-known reasons, your mobile tactical units are unreliable and you
can't use them. There are too many Weians there. It means that you will have
to destroy half of the Empire with strategic weapons. The reputation of the
Federation of Nineteen will be horribly compromised!
At the same time, you will exhibit unspeakable cruelty destroying a
completely powerless country and you will exhibit unspeakable weakness.
Really, what's can you say about the fighting ability of the country when
half of its shock troops comes from a potential enemy?! The Federation's
authority will be shattered. Gera and other enemies of yours will obtain a
moral advantage. The Federation members, that have been demanding
independence, will hurry to leave the union - they will declare that they
completely disagree with Earth's politics."
Shavash paused, sipped on his wine and continued.
"Let's imagine now that you agree to our proposal and the Federation of
Nineteen becomes the Federation of Twenty. It will be a triumph of democracy
and freedom! An empire, a whole planet voluntarily sheds its freedom and
independence to become a member of the Federation! The Federation doesn't
need any weapons - it simply wins hearts over!"
"It's crazy," the state secretary muttered.
"This century is the time of separatism. Maybe the Empire is fated to
turn this process back. Vadda desires independence. Won't its people change
their opinion after the Empire's example? In any case, local politicians
will find it more difficult to assure the nation that real happiness will
come when the politicians don't have to obey the metropolis any longer."
The state secretary's eyes lit up. He arrived at the Empire, having
interrupted negotiations with Vadda. This planet was going to leave the
Federation either with a scandal or with a huge scandal. Merry imps danced
across the state secretary's eyes as he was thinking about Shavash's words.
Meanwhile, Shavash continued.
"What are the gains of winning a war? You take over a foreign country
for the present and protect your future. What are the drawbacks of winning a
war? The losers are embittered and they want revenge; the neighbors get
wary. We offer you all the gains of a victorious war without its single
drawback!
Our proposal takes care of a multitude of problems.
For instance, there is the problem of the lands surrounding the Empire.
Their development has already started. It will clearly cause conflicts
between the sovereign Empire and the Federation. If we are to join, the
reasons for the conflicts will be gone.
If you let us get away with our actions, you will demonstrate your
weakness. Having declared a war on us, you will exhibit weakness and cruelty
simultaneously. Both winning and losing the war will be catastrophic for you
- you will find yourselves internationally isolated. You will look like
demagogues instead of democrats. The Federation forces developing planets to
respect the human rights. However, when the same planets ask it to uphold
human rights, the Federation drops nuclear bombs on them having decided that
upholding the human rights is just too expensive.
If you reject our proposal, even a victorious war will be catastrophic
for you. If you accept it, you remain a beacon of democracy and freedom. In
the case of war, you will find yourself without tactical troops but with a
reputation of a militaristic state. In the case of peace, you will obtain
again the most reliable soldiers in the Galaxy and the reputation of a
peaceful country!"
"What will happen to the Emperor?" the state secretary asked.
"What's wrong about having an Emperor?" the official objected. "There
are kings and emperors in various states of Earth - in Arabia, in Belgium.
The Emperor will be the symbol of the nation and the country will have a
first minister and universal elections."
"And Earth will be accused of forcing democracy on you, won't it?" the
state secretary inquired.
Shavash spread his hands.
"It's unlikely," he said, "that Earth will be accused in forcing
democracy on us in the current circumstances."
Somebody snickered.
"Also," the official added, "we have already silenced the most
bellicose blabbermouths so that you won't get too upset."
"You did it as preliminary measure before instituting democracy,"
General Al Saad noted.
Shavash preferred to ignore the comment and continued, "We are not
talking about Weia; we are talking about the Federation. Will it prefer to
become internationally isolated and fall apart or to obtain a strategic
stronghold and flourish? Take into account that in twenty years you will
have to spend forty times more for a war against Gera than you would have to
invest now into economics and infrastructure of the Federation's new state!"
"We will think your proposal over," the state secretary said.
Bemish left the hall together with Fifth Fleet commander Al Saad.
"What do you think about this?" Bemish inquired.
"Do you know," the general answered, "this joke? A man is walking down
a forest and an old woman points a blaster at him. "Weren't you going to
rape me, dearie?" -"Absolutely not, granny!" - "You don't have a choice,
dearie!"
Bemish burst out in laughter.
Five minutes later, tired and hungry Bemish ascended into a small
triangular hall. The tables for the delegation stood there, filled with
appetizers and dishes. The guards were everywhere and a dozen of journalists
waiting for the negotiations to finish, hunted the solitary delegates.
Having come in, Bemish discovered that the adroit journalists and
attendants had already taken care of the food and only the most exotic
dishes were left. Bemish made himself comfortable next to a dish of a
sauteed dog and Al Saad, having hesitated for a moment, followed him.
A wide TV screen stood in the right corner of the hall. It showed a
Weian meeting next to the palace walls, first, and the Geran envoy's speech,
second. The Geran thanked Kissur and the selfless Weians for uncovering the
intrigues of Earth warmongers. He confirmed that Gera was ready to assist
the exploited and mislead Weian people if the Federation dared to attack
them.
Then Shavash entered the hall accompanied by two or three attendants.
Shavash probably didn't want to approach the Assalah director but he
clearly wanted to eat. The only edible object left on the table was the
sauteed dog that Bemish sat next to.
Shavash came to the dog and started cutting it with a knife. Bemish
pointedly turned away.
The anchorman on the TV screen read the announcement of Geran
president. The president promised assistance to Weians and everybody else.
He suggested to everybody exploited by the Federation to unite in defense of
the betrayed Weians and to join their ranks fighting "the corrupted
democracy of the Federation."
The TV set was not performing well. An indistinct web of blue and green
lines pulsated on the screen. It was an indication that a powerful two
channel trans communication unit was working somewhere nearby. The state
secretary was probably speaking directly to the Federation president. Bemish
stared fixedly at the green lines on the screen as if he could figure the
conversation's content out of them.
The palace servants came in, changed tablecloths and covered the tables
with new dishes. However, Bemish was full. In about an hour, green and blue
ripples disappeared and, almost immediately, envoy Severin entered the hall.
Severin approached Shavash and asked him to walk upstairs.
"The Federation president would like to talk to you," he said quietly,
"on the transcom."
Shavash walked upstairs; Bemish and the general followed him
simultaneously. A number of people were present in the room upstairs - a
dozen diplomats and the same number of technicians. Nobody stopped Bemish
and the general when they entered the room following Shavash.
A simple computer with a transcom unit connected directly to the
parallel port stood on the table. Shavash leaned over the keyboard, somebody
quickly pushed a button and president's Kerry face appeared in front of
Shavash on the wide monitor screen.
"Mr. Shavash?" the president said.
"I am listening to you," the small official replied.
"I discussed your proposal with the heads of the Federation states. We
concluded that it would put the Federation in a difficult, almost critical
financial situation. However, it is mutually profitable and honorable. The
executive heads of the Federation will agree to your proposal on one
condition."
"What is it?"
"Your personal actions, Mr. Shavash, are extraordinary, or more
directly, monstrous. You obtained quite a scandalous reputation even on your
own planet. It's possible that, thanks to your successful actions, the
people will choose you as the head of the new Federation state. It will be
very unpleasant for us to see you in the Assembly of the heads of the
states. Our condition is the following - we will accept Weia into the
Federation as long as you don't participate in the new elections. If you
really care about your country's well-being, you will find it easy to agree
to our condition."
For a while, Shavash expressionlessly looked at the screen. Bemish
suddenly recalled with malice how the small official had regretted a while
ago that the Federation hadn't conquered Weia and he, Shavash, couldn't
become the Federation Emperor's slave and worm his way into the Assembly of
the heads of the states.
"I agree," the first vice minister of finance finally said.
Half an hour later, Bemish sat in the garden with a laptop in his
hands, deeply immersed in calculations. The year before last, the total
volume of direct and portfolio investments into the Empire's economy was
four billion dinars. The last year, thanks to Bemish's example, it was
sixteen billion. Just before the elections, the investment flow increased a
bit more and it dropped almost to zero afterwards.
The total sum of allowances, benefits and investment credits for a new
Federation member would be, accordingly to Bemish's calculations, six
thousand four billion dinars - six trillion.
Somebody approached and stood next to him. Bemish turned around and saw
Nan and Shavash.
"Why are you pouting, Terence," Shavash asked. "Can you imagine how
much Assalah stocks will cost tomorrow?"
"That's why I am upset," Bemish grinned. "You could at least give me a
hint. Confess, how much have you made on this deal?"
"I don't really know yet," the small official spoke. "I, however, have
a gift for you, Mr. Bemish. During the crisis, I took it upon myself to buy
Assalah bonds at the total sum of three hundred million dinars. On the
average, I paid eight cent for a dinar. I would like to give you a half of
them."
Shavash paused.
"Also, as you remember, I am authorized to invest Special Weian fund's
money in whatever way I see fit. During the emergency, the fund was buying
everything it could."
Bemish raised his eyes at him, shocked. Of course, he immediately
realized that for every stock that Shavash had bought for the fund, he had
bought twenty for himself.
Bemish realized that the foxy official managed the most astonishing
insider deal in the stock market history - he had dropped the market's
rating at the very bottom and had bought everything. He knew that after his
ultimatum, Weia would obtain the federal exchange status and his investments
would increase tenfold. Suddenly Bemish understood why Shavash agreed to the
president's condition - not to participate in the elections - so easily.
"Why did you instigate the whole thing?" Bemish asked. "Did you want to
get 2000% profit in ten days? Were you trying to save your country or were
you spinning an insider deal?"
"Where is insider trading here?" Shavash was surprised. "I didn't know
how your government would reply to my proposal."
"And still, having reaped your profits, you refused to become the first
minister of Weia."
Here Shavash smiled slowly and victoriously.
"There are a lot of people," he said, "who are worthier of this
appointment than I am. At a certain point, Mr. Nan was dismissed from the
first minister position under the pretext that he was a citizen of another
country. They passed a law that made it impossible for foreigners to hold
governmental appointments. Now, we are all citizens of the same state and
the law is no longer valid. You have to agree, that it will be quite
advantageous if an Earthman represents our country in the Assembly of the
heads of the states."
Bemish was completely shocked.
"Shavash, everybody thought that you betrayed Nan."
"Never follow the general opinion, Terence. If you had thought better
about me, you would have been a billion or two richer today."
Having said this, the small official bowed ceremoniously to the
Earthman and walked down the path, back to the carved spires and onion
shaped turrets of the main palace pavilions.