“And finally, the oath,” I said. “At this point, Mr President, your young men become soldiers.”
He watched, a faint tear in his eye, as the soldiers swore loyalty to the planet’s constitution. I’d expected more political faction fights over what oath they’d be taking, but surprisingly enough a compromise had been reached fairly quickly. They wouldn’t be swearing loyalty to any one person, or political party, or even the government, but to the constitution that governed the planet. Svergie’s constitution had its flaws — it had been designed for the planet before the UN got involved — but it was surprisingly simple. I’d seen worlds where the constitution occupied several massive volumes and no one believed in it.
“And there they go,” I concluded, as the soldiers headed for the gates. It wasn’t a very orderly procession, but the Drill Sergeants tolerated it on Graduation Day. “They’ll be out at one of the bases after a week’s leave and they’ll be formed into units. If all goes according to plan, we should even be able to hold a major exercise within the year.”
“If everything remains peaceful,” the President said. He looked over at Suki, who was watching the display as well. She wore a simple unmarked uniform herself; she’d wanted to keep wearing her normal outfit, but I’d forbidden her from wearing it on a military base. It would have been bad for discipline, even if she did look stunning. Besides, she also looked good in a uniform. “Is there a place we can talk alone?”
I nodded and led him away from the parade ground, back towards my office. Ed and Russell would take care of any last-minute problems, unless civil war broke out almost at once. I’d quietly kept the defence of the spaceport in the hands of A Company, while B and C Company mentored the new Svergie units, just in case. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the new units we’d raised and trained, but I did want to keep them away from temptation. Some of them were almost certainly picked men — by one or more of the parties.
My office hadn’t improved much since I’d occupied it, although I had hung up a large map of the planet and some organisation charts, mainly to distract visitors. Most of what I needed to know was locked away in my head or in the secure computers — at least, we hoped they were the secure computers. The planet’s computer industry might have been trapped in the dark ages — they could barely produce something holding a terabyte of data — but we knew that they had purchased some items from off-planet. If we’d been able to identify what, and who, I would have been a lot happier.
“I’m sorry it isn’t more comfortable,” I said, sincerely. A military office has no business being comfortable — the UN, naturally, treated its senior officers like kings — but the President really needed a comfortable chair. He looked older than the last time I’d seen him, as if the stresses of the job were wearing him down, bit by bit. I wanted to advise bed rest, or even a long holiday, but that simply wasn’t an option.
“It’s fine as it is,” the President assured me, but I knew he was lying. “It’s just been a long day and I’m tired.”
“But not of the day,” I said, pouring him a mug of strong coffee. It wasn’t what I would have normally fed to a President, but UN-issue coffee is good at keeping people awake. It was probably the one thing the UN got right. “Are you worried about the election?”
The President nodded. “The Council is fairly evenly balanced right now,” he said, sipping his coffee and grimacing at the taste. I half-expected him to refuse to drink more than a few sips, but he carried on gamely. It was something of an acquired taste, after all. “After the election, it won’t be balanced at all. Something is going to break.”
I nodded, without speaking. I’d studied the Svergie Constitution carefully after TechnoMage had called it to my attention and he was right. The President — popularly elected by the people — had considerable power, but an absolute majority in the Council could overrule him. His personal powers were limited; he might control the army — such as it was — but not the police or the courts. The whole system seemed to have been created for a far smaller population, perhaps even a single city, rather than an entire planet. I suspected that that was the work of the UN.
“And when it does, our order is going to fall apart,” he continued. “What will happen then?”
“Civil war,” I said, sipping my own coffee. It was hard to pretend to be unconcerned and I suspect he saw though the deception. “The rural areas try to declare independence and the cities try to suppress them. It won’t be pleasant.”
“It was so much easier when we were fighting the UN,” the President said, rubbing his eyes. “Everyone was united then.”
“And now the factions are breaking apart,” I said. “You had unity as long as you had a powerful enemy to revolt against. Now you have to deal with the fruits of victory.”
The President looked up at me. “Rotten fruits, rather like the ones the UN tried to get the farmers to sell,” he said. He saw my blank look and explained. “Every single fruit had to go through a long supply chain, so by the time they reached the customer they were already going bad. I think it was meant for health and safety reason.”
I snorted. “Never mind,” he added. “Why did you leave the UN anyway?”
“Long story,” I said, willing him to drop it. I hadn’t left the UN; the UN had left me. “There are more important things to…”
“Why did you leave the UN?” He repeated. “I read your record, but as far as I can tell, it’s one of a honourable soldier. Or am I missing something?”
I felt a bittersweet pang at his words. “As I said, it’s a long story,” I said. “I joined to escape the hellhole Earth had become. The UNPF seemed the only way out. They don’t conscript soldiers, Mr President; they don’t have to conscript soldiers. The living conditions do that for them. They have more volunteers than they have spaces for them, even when they had millions of men in uniform and hundreds of planets to occupy. I went through their kind and sensitive training program and learned more about feeding the needy than I did about fighting. I think I fired about ten rounds in basic training and…
“They sent us into a hellhole called El Puta Dorada, or something like that,” I continued, feeling the bitterness welling up into my voice. “It should have been easy, or so they told us. Instead, they dumped ten thousand men right into a swarming horde of the enemy and trapped us under their fire. Thousands died, yet somehow we survived and escaped — somehow. When we reached UN lines, I found that the man who’d come up with the scheme had been promoted for innovative thinking, so I killed him. No one ever worked out that it was me.”
I don’t know why I told him that. I’d never told anyone else that. “His replacement was looking for heroes and decided I needed promoting, so I got promoted,” I said. “I don’t know if he knew all along and it was a reward for his promotion, but they gave me a platoon and told me to do things for them. I got half my platoon killed on my first mission, but they saw it as a success. I found myself trying to learn how to lead and maintain an infantry unit in the midst of a war. By the time that particular campaign ended, I was a Captain and had a whole Company under me
“And I was keen to show what I could do and correct… errors in our training, so we ran through endless drills and burned up more ammunition than all of the other units in the area combined, just drilling. The paperwork… well, I kept losing the paperwork, so the bureaucrats kept being unhappy with me, but I didn’t care. Eventually, I found someone to handle it for me while I focused on training and ended up with the best Company in the Infantry.