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“The other parties seem to be spending most of their time considering the ramifications. With the President out of the political scene for at least six months, power is shifting firmly into the Progressive camp, which leaves some of the other parties wondering just when the other shoe is about to drop. They don’t trust Councillor Frida Holmqvist very much, sir, and they think that she’s going to use the state of emergency to cement her grip on power. We may see more violence in the very near future.”

I remembered Daniel’s claim and went cold. “Do you think they might launch an uprising of their own?”

“I doubt it,” he admitted. “I think we might be looking at a repeat of our original scenario; a three-way civil war spread out over the main continent. They don’t have the… fanatical nature of the Communists and, in a way, they have access to more firepower. They may provide a conventional threat if the Independence Party gets their way, but…”

He shrugged. “At the moment, it’s too close to call,” he admitted. I scowled, but took his point. A lot of intelligence work involves seeing through murky glass. “A lot depends on what happens in the next few months. That said, there is a new and disturbing trend. A number of personages are attacking us… for not handing over the molester to the local courts for judgement.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Ed protested. I couldn’t help, but agree. “We hung the bastard! What more do they want? Him staked out on an ant hill covered in honey?”

“They seem to feel that there is a question of jurisdiction involved,” TechnoMage admitted. “I’m not sure who’s behind this, although they’re using the girl’s parents as spokespeople, but I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t know if the Acting President is behind this, but she’s doing fuck all to piss on this particular fire.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The end of a war is always the most dangerous time for a nation — or a planet. The effort of actually fighting the war is no longer needed, but the balance of power will have shifted radically. The most important issue is to prevent a second war, but that may take a second place to rebuilding the torn nation.

Army Manual, Heinlein

“You’re looking well, sir,” Suki said, as she drove me into New Copenhagen. “The fresh air in the countryside must agree with you.”

I snorted. The spaceport smelled better now that we had a proper regime operating the base, but it still smelt of hydrocarbons and the indescribable stench of thousands of people in close proximity. We’d been teaching the new recruits about hygiene as quickly as possible — unlike some worlds, including people from Earth, the locals generally knew already — but even so, there was a stink. There might be fresh air somewhere out in the countryside, but I hadn’t smelt it.

“Perhaps,” I agreed, as we passed the marker warning us to reduce our speed. There was nothing else on the road — there were hardly any privately-owned vehicles on the planet, something that probably delighted the remains of the Communists — but Suki reduced her speed anyway, barely. “You’re looking well too.”

Suki smiled. She did look stunning, even in a basic uniform rather than the outfit she’d worn for the inauguration. It was astonishing how much prettier a woman became after you’d slept with her; she almost seemed to be glowing. Her dark hair had been cut short, but she wore it in a style that was frankly provocative, while her uniform was just one size too small.

“It’s because I’m doing something useful,” she said, waving a hand towards a group of beggars in the distance. “Are they doing anything useful?”

I took her point. There were thousands of people on the streets, but many of them seemed to be doing nothing, but begging for charity. The devastation the Communists had inflicted had put thousands of people out of work and they were not happy. The Government had been organising work parties to help rebuild the city — both cities — but there was only so much that could be done with unskilled labour. Others were wandering around, looking for missing friends and relatives, a quest I suspected to be hopeless. We would probably never know how many people had been killed by the Communists, or had been caught up in the crossfire and slaughtered. The mass graves outside the city meant that the bodies would probably take their secrets to the next world.

There was a long line outside the army recruiting office, I was pleased to see, even if most of the recruits wouldn’t make the first cut. The planet had had a massive upswing in patriotism after the Communist Insurrection and thousands wanted to join the army, if only to get laid. Ed had been right; an army uniform was a certain ticket to spending a night with a girl, although naturally I didn’t know anything about that myself. Here and there, there were a handful of soldiers on leave, spending time telling lies about their exploits and trying to impress the girls. Others were on patrol, watching for looters and criminals, even though we hadn’t trained any of them for police work. The police force was being rebuilt as quickly as possible, but it was a long slow process.

“They’re not popular,” Suki explained, when I commented on that. “Everyone thinks that the policemen ran away when the firing started and hid in their houses until it was all over.”

“But it was a very brave retreat,” I said, deadpan. The joke slipped past Suki, who ignored it. “And public mood towards the communists?”

I had my answer as the car turned the corner and drove towards the makeshift courthouse. The original courthouse had been a surprisingly dignified building built by the UN, but the Communists had firebombed it in the opening stages of the insurrection — roasted seven judges, nine criminals and forty-nine others in the process — and Acting President Frida Holmqvist had moved operations to a local school. The kids were probably delighted at getting a few months off school — it didn’t help that parents were nervous about sending their kids into the city — and everyone else was delighted. The crowd outside the courthouse was baying for blood.

“They want them dead,” Suki said, pointing to a group of grim-looking protestors, carrying banners that had a multitude of inspiring slogans. DEATH TO COMMIES, BURN THE BASTARDS and MAKE THEM PAY were among the milder ones, although there were also stranger ones; FARMERS NEED TO EAT, FEED THE WORLD and MAKE WAR NOT LOVE. I think they got the last one mixed up a little. The UN used to use the reversed version as a slogan. “I don’t think they’re going to get out of it alive.”

I nodded as I passed my ID to a heavily armed soldier, who inspected it carefully. “It does look that way,” I agreed. I looked at the soldier’s insignia as he stood to attention. “Has there been any trouble here?”

“A gang of armed vigilantes wanted to break in and kill the Communists quickly,” the soldier said, once he had verified my identity. “We deployed and warned them to leave, or we’d open fire, and they left. A handful of others came by to threaten us, but we arrested them at once and handed them over to the local police. Feelings are running high among the crowd though, sir; I think we’re going to need reinforcements once sentence is passed.”

He nodded towards a wooden structure a carpenter was erecting on the other side of the street. It was a gallows, rather like the one we’d built ourselves, suggesting that the verdict of the court had already been decided. I shrugged, returned his salute, and led Suki into the building. The interior felt a little odd — I’ve never been comfortable with armed men in a school, no matter what Russell says about it being good for the kids — but it was easy enough to find the courtroom. The noise coming from it was deafening.