I didn’t mention the other concern. There had been no attempt to keep track of who belonged to a political party, or even which political party, but we did have a list of known hardcore Communist leaders who had to be arrested and removed from play. I didn’t want to let them go, yet I didn’t want to hand them over to the locals until we had sucked every last piece of information from them. They would know who else needed to be arrested and eventually shot, yet interrogating them was going to be a pain. The Communist Party was now officially banned… and the hardcore had nothing left to lose. They knew that they’d probably end up being hung from a tree until they were very unhappy.
“The sooner the better,” Ed said. He paused. “There’s been no sign of Muna, but we interrogated a few policemen who fled — the remainder were apparently being purged by the Communists — and they’ve confirmed that the factories were among the first seized. She’s either a prisoner or dead.”
“Yes,” I said. I changed the subject with an effort of will. “I need to inspect the defences. Show me what you’ve done.”
The air near Pitea smelt of burning fuel and the by-products of industry. I was surprised to smell it when the UN had ruled — almost uncontested — for years, and then I remembered Earth and understood. Some bureaucrats had probably taken a few huge bribes and granted exceptions to the harsh laws against polluting the environment, forcing the UN’s publicity machine to come up with new lies and shit to shovel down the throats of the workers. Probably something about how the Colonies had to help Mother Earth by suffering and therefore tilting the cosmic balance, or some other nonsense like that. It was amazing what the UN could convince people to do with a little effort and a lot of lies.
“This used to be a small town,” Ed explained. “We evacuated the population and took over. It was intended to be a storage place outside the city, I think, but somehow it never took off.”
I nodded. The town was crawling with soldiers wearing our uniforms and the ones we’d designed for the Svergie Army. We’d managed to spend a week moving tanks and armoured vehicles into position, along with vehicles that protected their crew from mines, IEDs and other unpleasant surprises. I saw Sergeants — some of ours, some newly promoted from the Svergie recruits — chivvying the soldiers along, reminding them of what the Communists had done to their President and thousands of people. I winced inwardly. The last thing I wanted was a massacre caused by outraged soldiers, yet we had to remind them of what had happened, just to remind them of what they were fighting for. A world free of Communism looked mighty good just now.
“This is Captain Hellqvist,” Ed said, introducing a man wearing a new insignia. It was always easy to tell someone who had just been promoted from someone who had been serving in the rank for a few months or years; they always looked just a trifle uneasy. “The Acting President promoted him personally and insisted that we gave him a platoon.”
I saluted. Now I remembered him; Jörgen Hellqvist had been at the siege of the stadium and had served well during the defence. I should have been consulted about any promotions to Captain’s rank and above, but I couldn’t fault the decision. He was young and unformed and had barely been in the army for more than five months, but the same was true of all of them. How could we refuse to promote natives? It would have ensured resentment and hatred among the lower ranks, yet… someone ill-prepared for the role would get people killed, or worse.
He returned my salute, almost perfectly. “Congratulations on your promotion,” I said, as I lowered my hand. “What do you think of the position?”
Jörgen was clearly smart enough to recognise a test question when he heard one. “If they try to break out, we’ll chew them up and shit out the remains,” he said, finally. “If we have to break in… it’s going to be a stone cold bitch.”
“Definitely,” I said, spotting Sergeant Rory behind Jörgen, keeping a paternal eye on him. If the new Captain was smart, he’d listen to the experienced enlisted man and seek his advice on all matters. Sergeant Rory had been taking young Lieutenants and turning them into Captains for longer than I’d been alive. “Keep drilling your platoon on urban combat, Captain; I have a feeling that we’re going to need it.”
I spent the next hour inspecting the ring of steel we’d created around the city. We’d held most of our forces back to keep them out of artillery range — if the Communists had such weapons, which was in doubt — and were carefully preparing our forces for the advance to the city. The recon patrols were confident and clearly had high morale; one of them bragged that they’d slipped right up to the city and even entered part of it, without being detected. Others claimed to have sneaked up on their counterparts and cut their throats before vanishing again into the shadows.
“They’re not good sneaks, sir,” one particularly pleased Lieutenant reported. “They keep blundering around in the countryside and I’d bet they’re not much better in the city. A few units of countrymen would cause us far more problems…”
“One moment,” Ed said, keying his earpiece and listening to the message. “Forward patrols have just picked up a man from the city carrying a white flag. He claims to be a Communist Leader and wants to speak to someone in charge.”
Shoot him at once, I thought, but pushed it aside. If we killed everyone who tried to talk to us, our opponents would only fight to the death. “I’ll talk to him,” I said, and pushed down Ed’s objections. “I’ll take an armoured car and meet him in the space between the two sides.”
The Communist stood on the road, waiting patiently for me. I was surprised to discover that I recognised him; Councillor — ex-Councillor — Daniel Singh. His family history had been more complex than most of the other prominent Councillors; he’d been the child of a mixed marriage that had fallen apart, a year after he’d been born. He’d drifted into Communism because racism was anthemia to the Communists — in the same sense that it was anthemia to the UN, but also useful for divide and conquer — and ended up their first Councillor. He’d also lost his seat to the Progressive Party and had taken it badly. Up close, he was a light brown man, with eyes that were cold and hard. He looked like someone who was prepared to fight and die.
“Captain-General,” he said, when I stood close enough for a friendly conversation. “You are surrounding territory belonging to the People’s Republic of Pitea, an extremely unfriendly act.”
I had to admire his chutzpah, if nothing else. “Blow it out your ass,” I said, rudely. “You took the city from the elected government and are currently holding it down by force. Dare I hope that you’ve come to negotiate a surrender?”
“When we spoke before, you were the leader of a group of mercenary army trainers,” Singh said, as if my words hadn’t affected him at all. “Now you’re the General of the entire planet. How your positions have grown.”
“They have,” I agreed, tightly. He was trying to get under my skin and succeeding. “You’re not a military man, Singh, but even you must agree that your position is hopeless. We’ll take the city back even if…”
“You have to destroy it to save it?” Singh asked, amused. “You certainly didn’t leave much of the Industrial Complex standing in New Copenhagen, did you?”
“I didn’t turn it into an armed fortress and kill half the planet’s government,” I said, angrily. “If you’re going to try and convince me that you’re only acting this way because we made you act this way… save it. The age-old cry of the terrorist; look what you made us do! You’re not going to get out of this alive if we have to retake the city by force.”