“They killed the President,” Frida injected. I had expected her to be pleased at the prospect, but she looked sickened. “They killed the father of the planet!”
“He’s still alive,” I said. “The Doctors are working on him now and he’ll recover, eventually.” I trusted the Doctor to keep him alive, although I knew that it would take years for him to recover. “Until then, you’re the President. You’re the only authority this planet has left.”
Frida gathered herself. “What is the current situation?” She asked. “Are they beaten…?”
“They’re digging into the industrial complex,” I explained. I didn’t bother to explain that digging them out would be a bitch of a job. There are certain things, in my humble opinion, that politicians are happier not knowing. “Apart from that, we have reports of uprisings in other cities and…”
I winced. Muna had been in one of the cities, hadn’t she? I had to recover her, somehow, before the Communists realised who they’d caught. Muna knew far too much about the Legion and, if they caught her, they could learn everything she knew. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Leave that for the moment,” I added. Frida looked at me as if I were insane, but I didn’t back down. We needed to secure New Copenhagen first, and then move down to deal with the remaining Communists. Holding the capital city would give us the clout we needed to keep the civil war from breaking down into complete chaos. “We have to deal with the problems here first. I need you to declare martial law and convince people that the government is still in existence, because my broadcast won’t do that.”
“And then?” Frida asked. “Can you get them out of their stronghold?”
“Yes,” I said, simply.
Frida stepped up to the window and peered out. I knew what she would see; soldiers on patrol, ruins and wreckage, the remains of a democratic dream… and dead bodies, everywhere. The smell hit her as she fumbled and opened the window, despite my warnings, and she recoiled, gagging. I’d never grown used to it myself, but I controlled my gorge. It was the smell of a thousand dead or dying bodies. It was the smell of war.
“Do it,” she ordered. There was a new fire in her voice. “Whatever it takes, get them out of there.”
“Yes, Madam President,” I said. She glared at me. She’d probably intended to run for President herself eventually, but she’d assumed the title in a manner that brought the price — and responsibility — home to her. It might even change her political views. “Do you want to make the broadcast now?”
I led her back down the stairs to the mobile command centre and listened quickly as Ed updated me on the current situation. Now that calm was returning to large parts of the city, the fire brigade was out in force, combating the many fires as best as they could, while they’d even rounded up a handful of policemen and confirmed the Police Chief’s death. Frida winced at that; Police Chief Arne Johansson might not have been a friend to the Progressive Party, but he was someone she had known personally. It’s always harder to see a close personal friend die than it is to see a stranger. I’d seen too many people die in my career.
“We’ve taken the broadcast tower,” I explained, checking the reports. The Communist position outside their stronghold was falling apart as we pushed at it. “The Communist broadcast is no longer going out to the people. Are you ready to record a message?” Frida nodded. “All right; here you go.”
“People of Svergie, the President is injured,” Frida said, her voice cold and very composed. “He was shot down in the middle of his speech by a Communist sniper, the same people who attempted to kill everyone at the Government Stadium, killing hundreds of innocent civilians and trying to destroy the government. They failed. The Council is still alive and the Government is still intact. The President will even make a full recovery.”
Her voice hardened. “As Acting President, I am hereby declaring the Communist Party outlaws and renegades,” she continued. I blinked in surprise and hoped she knew what she was doing. A suspicious mind might wonder if she was doing it to get rid of a rival. “A state of martial law is in effect and the Army and the Police are empowered to do whatever they need to do to remove the Communist Party from their strongholds. They will pay for what they have done to our people. They will pay for what they have done to our President. They will pay — in fire!”
Chapter Twelve
Even on Heinlein, it is legal to have a political party that proposes the replacement of our current system by another — if the people want it to change, it will change, and a non-violent change is better than one accomplished by violence. Towards that end, it might be concluded that anyone attempting violent change is too dangerous to be allowed to live. The verdict of the voters must be honoured.
“Well,” Peter said, as we drove down towards the industrial area. “Who knew she had it in her?”
“I didn’t,” I said, coldly. I hadn’t expected a promise of blood and fire, although the free hand would be helpful. The early reports from Pitea were not encouraging. The Communists were strong there and had probably prepared it as a fallback position. We wouldn’t be able to nip this little rebellion in the bud. “All we have to do now is defeat the Communists and hope that that’s the end of the affair.”
I didn’t believe it and I suspected that Peter didn’t either, but he kept his opinion to himself as the jeep turned the corner and passed a large grassy park. It had originally been intended for kids to play with balls and perhaps court each other as they grew older, but it was now serving as a temporary holding area for prisoners. Hundreds of men and women, their hands tied behind their backs, sat there, watching the soldiers warily. Some of them were injured while a handful were naked, marking them as people who had tried to smuggle weapons past the soldiers. A handful, mainly young girls, were crying as we passed. They’d probably been swept up by accident and would be released once we’d sorted out who was who.
“They’re supposed to have most of the workers on their side,” Peter said, as we passed another holding camp, this one full of grim-looking men. “If we kill or capture them all, who’s going to run the industrial plant?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” I admitted. It wasn’t a problem I could solve easily. Frida would have to grapple with that afterwards. The UN had dealt with rebels by dumping them in internment camps or exiling them from the planet, but Frida wouldn’t have those options. She might feel compelled to offer an amnesty. “If we put down this rebellion, perhaps we can negotiate with the other Communists.”
“Not a hope,” Peter said, dismissively. I feared that he was right. “Their minimum demands would be greater than anything we could reasonably give them, even before they decided to kill half the city. We’re going to have to beat hell out of them, boss.”
The New Copenhagen Industrial Zone occupied around five kilometres of factories and warehouses. The original designers of the city had intended to keep it neatly divided between residential, shopping and industrial areas, but over time they’d blurred together, particularly as the UN dumped more immigrants on the planet. I’d heard that there had been a massive rise in house prices and, consequently, thousands of people were living in shantytowns. The designers might not have intended to create a fortress, but with a little help from the Communists, they’d succeeded. It was a fortress manned by people who had nothing left to lose.
I removed my insignia and stepped onto the street near Ed’s command post. The sound of shooting was growing louder, telling me that a sniper duel was underway. The Communists would have recruited anyone with shooting skills they could get their hands on, but someone who had been hunting in the wilds would be almost as capable as a military sniper — or at least they had been on Heinlein. Our snipers would be trying to suppress their snipers and, hopefully, no one else would be shot in the crossfire. That was the theory, at least, but I rather doubted it would work out that way in practice.