Part 8 (1/2)
”Sure. But once we're out of this hole we could maneuver, position ourselves to advantage, Colonel. As it is, Cazombi is going to get us all killed.”
”What can we do about it, sir? Every man jack in what's left of our division is ready to fight, despite the reduced rations and the living conditions.”
”There's always something that can be done, Colonel.” Sorca smiled and patted the colonel on his shoulder. ”You just stick with me.”
Two huge explosions shook the bunker. ”There goes Nine O'Clock Nina again,” Corporal Barry (”The Liver”) Livny muttered. Barry was famous in the company for his drinking ability, when drink was available, which it had not been since they'd left home months ago. ”Hard to tell what time it is outside unless she drops in on us.” He grinned and rubbed the nonregulation beard stubble on his chin. He wasn't old enough to grow a regular beard but the fuzz had lengthened noticeably over the past weeks. He tolerated very well the snide comments from his buddies, ”Hey, Liver, you didn't shave this morning, did you?” because shaving was a luxury: The water ration had been cut again. There were only two electric razors in the whole company and Corporal Livny maintained he would not take sloppy seconds on a shave. As a Guardsman he could get away with it; a regular would've long ago taken a bayonet to his whiskers.
”This c.r.a.p is bad enough to puke a dog off a gut wagon,” PFC Harry (”Whimper”) Quimper complained, spooning the viscous ma.s.s that was his breakfast out of his mess kit. He ran a filthy forefinger around the inside of the tin and stuck it into his mouth, sucking up the last bit of juice.
”You'd b.i.t.c.h if they hung you with a new rope, Whimper. That is real fancy 'kwe-zeen,' as the French say,” Private Ennis (”Shovel”) Shovell muttered. ”I believe you are actually gaining weight on these rations,” he added, finis.h.i.+ng his ersatz coffee. Ennis was forty and married and no one in his platoon could figure out why he'd ever volunteered for the infantry. Whenever the subject came up, which it did frequently, all he'd say was, ”Well, take my wife. Please.” In civilian life, he'd been an accountant with an insurance firm, earning more money than either of his bunker mates had ever imagined having in their own pockets. Why he hadn't joined the finance corps was also a mystery to them and when frequently asked about his choice of arms inevitably he'd say, ”I'm Jewish. I refuse to be cast as a stereotype.” Shovell stood over two meters and was well built for a man who'd led a sedentary life. He never complained when it was his turn to use a shovel on the frequent repair details or to clean out their bunker.
”Nah, I lost three kilos this past month,” Quimper said. ”What're we getting, fifteen hundred calories a day now? Man, how I long for the old days, when we got twenty-five hundred a day.” The ”old days” for these men of the New Geneseean National Guard had been when they were first inserted on Ravenette. They'd brought their own rations with them. General Cazombi's troops were already by that time reduced to living on a thousand calories a day. n.o.body could now agree on what they needed more, food or reinforcements.
”Isn't it p.r.o.nounced 'koo-zine,' Ennis?” Livny asked.
”Nah, 'kwe-zeen', I studied French once. Before you children were born. I love dead languages, you see?” ”Then why study them, if they're dead?” Quimper asked. He looked genuinely puzzled. ”Wimpy,” Ennis replied patiently, as if talking to a child, ”I may need to know it when I die, which if our rations don't improve and their aim does, might be fairly soon.” ”I been thinking, maybe we could eat them ratlike things, those 'slimies'?” Quimper suggested. ”I'm hungry enough for some fresh meat, but ugh, a guy'd have to really be starvin' to chow down on one o' them things!” ”There ain't that many of 'em, Wimpy, hardly worth the effort to catch one.” ”Oh, you'll see more of them, if we stay in here long enough,” Shovell said. ”They're scavengers and the longer we're here the more of them'll be attracted by the waste and-and-you know, the bodies.”
He shuddered. Almost on cue, several heavy explosions shook the bunker. The men scrambled to their positions but nothing moved in the no-man's-land between them and the rubble that had once been Fort Seymour.
”I wish they'd come,” Quimper sighed, ”get me some action.” Since these men had been on Ravenette, the Coalition forces had not mounted a single ground attack against them, just this intermittent pounding with artillery, missiles, and bombs. Their landing had been tough and their division, composed of regiments hastily gathered from several different worlds, had taken very heavy casualties.
”Be careful what you wish for, Wimpy,” Ennis advised. ”I wish I was with Napoleon at Thermopylae, Shovel, at least I'd have a chance to actually fight someone,” Wimpy retorted. Wimpy fancied himself a military historian but he could never understand why the Greeks at Thermopylae didn't use their cannon to better advantage. ”You are at Thermopylae, my child,” Ennis replied. ”Do I need to remind you how that one ended?” Quimper's stomach growled audibly. ”Man, I used to eat some good s.h.i.+t at home, you know?” ”You get hungry enough you can eat anything,” Shovell replied, dryly. ”Bacon, eggs, sherobies for breakfast every G.o.dd.a.m.ned day! Hey, Shovel, we go into a POW camp like some of the guys are saying, will they feed us better? Man,” he sighed, changing the subject abruptly, ”what I wouldn't give to exchange one of you guys for a woman right now.” ”Wimpy, sometimes you really don't make much sense,” Shovell replied. ”A real man would exchange us for two women.”
”Nah, Shovel, I'd only exchange you, so Liver could have somethin' to watch,” Quimper laughed. Quimper's laugh was very disturbing to most people, a high-pitched braying sound, but his bunker mates had gotten used to it.
”I was up to the battalion S3 a couple of days ago,” Livny offered, ”and the word is out that more reinforcements are on the way. Marines. They're sending the G.o.dd.a.m.ned hard-a.s.sed jarheads here!”
”And then what? Well, then, all our problems will be over,” Shovell snorted. ”Hey!” Quimper shouted, sitting up straight, ”maybe the Marines will bring some good-looking wimmen with 'em!”
”Women, my a.s.s,” Livny snorted, ”I hope they bring some extra field rations.”
CHAPTER TWELVE.
”Mr. President! Mr. President! Would the honorable gentleman from Bulon kindly yield the floor? His time is up! Mr. President!” The representative from Novo Kongor, Ubsa Nor, was shouting. He had been trying for several minutes now to get the long-winded Haggl Kutmoi to yield so he could speak.
”Mr. Kutmoi, please yield to the honorable gentleman from, er,” the President of the Confederation Congress had to consult his roster to remember the Novo Kongor representative's name and where he came from, ”the Honorable Ubsa Nor from Novo Kongor?”
Kutmoi glared at Nor, who was striding purposefully toward the rostrum. Squat, dark, powerful, Ubsa Nor had spent his youth in the mines on his home world and was not a man to be trifled with. ”I yield to the honorable gentleman from Novo Kongor, Mr. President, but I will continue my remarks at a later time!” Kutmoi deliberately jostled Nor as they pa.s.sed but the man from Novo Kongor merely whispered, ”There's no glory in tangling with a little shrimp like you,” and mounted the platform. He adjusted his reading gla.s.ses. ”Mr. President, honorable members,” he began in a powerful voice that almost needed no amplification, ”we of Novo Kongor stand in complete opposition to the headlong rush to war that Madam Chang-St.u.r.devant, the honorable member from Bulon, and their supporters are urging upon this august body.”
”You ought to join the rebels then!” a female voice shouted.
”Order!” the president intoned.
Ubsa Nor paused, glaring at the representative who'd interrupted him. ”The idea that we Kongoreans would break with this Confederation and go to war against it is unfair and also personally disgusting. But that's not all that's disgusting. The way this government has treated the people of the secessionist worlds is disgusting and I remind all the honorable members of this Congress that it was our troops who slaughtered the citizens of Ravenette, not the other way around, so it was us and not them who committed the first act of war.” A tumult arose, and delegates shouted for Nor to be seated, accusing him of disloyalty and cowardice. But a few voices expressed support for what he had said.
The president called for order.
”I know how those people out there feel,” Nor continued when the delegates had finally quieted. ”Many of you here consider us Kongoreans no better than hairy animals who burrow in the earth and live among the ice and cold because we don't know any better and because n.o.body else would have us. You make fun of the way we talk when we're among you and I've heard all the jokes you love to tell about us, 'How does a boy from Novo Kongor know when his hut is on a level? When his dog drools out both sides of his mouth at the same time,' and on and on and on.” No one laughed at that joke but it was an oft-repeated slur against the people of Novo Kongor that many people found amusing. The delegates were shamed by it into a temporary silence.
”You need the ores we mine from the unforgiving crust of our world.” Nor went on, his voice rising. ”Ores that my people risk their lives and health to extract in an environment so harsh none of you here, none none of you, can even imagine from the comfort and luxury of your homes, but when we ask for a fair price from your refineries you accuse us of gouging and you pa.s.s laws to protect your own industries because you say we undercut them. Do you think we're so stupid we can't see the inconsistency there?” His voice rose a full octave on the last word. ”No, no, no,” he waved a forefinger at the a.s.sembled delegates, ”the people of those worlds in rebellion have legitimate grievances and since this government does not wish to settle them through negotiation, we of Novo Kongor say, 'Let them go their own way!' We reject Madam Chang-St.u.r.devant's call for troops and shall remain neutral in this war.” He paused, removed his spectacles, bowed slightly saying, ”Thank you, Mr. President, honorable members,” and left the podium. of you, can even imagine from the comfort and luxury of your homes, but when we ask for a fair price from your refineries you accuse us of gouging and you pa.s.s laws to protect your own industries because you say we undercut them. Do you think we're so stupid we can't see the inconsistency there?” His voice rose a full octave on the last word. ”No, no, no,” he waved a forefinger at the a.s.sembled delegates, ”the people of those worlds in rebellion have legitimate grievances and since this government does not wish to settle them through negotiation, we of Novo Kongor say, 'Let them go their own way!' We reject Madam Chang-St.u.r.devant's call for troops and shall remain neutral in this war.” He paused, removed his spectacles, bowed slightly saying, ”Thank you, Mr. President, honorable members,” and left the podium.
Haggl Kutmoi was on his feet immediately, addressing his remarks directly from his seat. ”I remind everyone, this government bent over backward to find ways to keep the rebels in our Confederation and it failed. Why? Because they wanted war from the beginning! And one more thing, honorable members! The gentleman from Novo Kongor forgot to inform you that the worlds now in rebellion against this Confederation are Novo Kongor's best trading partners! The embargo against trade with them has hurt the Kongoreans' pocketbooks! And I have evidence, which I shall submit at the proper time, that Novo Kongor has been ignoring the trade sanctions imposed against the rebels and is now carrying on a clandestine trade with them!”
The chamber burst into an uproar. ”That is a d.a.m.ned lie!” Ubsa Nor shouted. He and the other members of the Novo Kongor delegation got up from their seats and marched out of the chamber.
The president called for order.
”So forget all this palaver about how badly they've been treated,” Kutmoi continued in a whining falsetto when the noise had finally died away, ”Novo Kongor's opposition to sending troops to help the rest of us has to do with money, that's all, money! And I say this, I say this to you now, people of Novo Kongor,” Kutmoi raised a hand over his head and thundered at the retreating backs of the Novo Kongor delegates, ”If you aren't with us, you're against us! Novo Kongor, take your ores and shove them up -”
The president called for order.
”Preston! Preston!” the representative from Hobcaw shouted over the tumult in the Coalition's senate chamber.
”Yes, Halbred,” President Summers, who was presiding, acknowledged Halbred Stutz, who then stood forward to speak. ”The rest of you, pipe down so Stutz can say his piece!” It was Summers's responsibility as president of the Secessionist Coalition to preside over the meetings, but he did so reluctantly and with frequent snorts of bourbon. In his view, the business of government was settled in committee and backrooms, not by full sessions of the senate, which more often than not ended in shouting matches. He was finding that getting a dozen disaffected and fiercely independent worlds to agree on even the most routine matters was difficult and that government by presidential fiat, when he could get away with it, was much more effective than the democratic process. The one thing they did agree on was their willingness to fight, often among themselves.
”Preston, we agreed to movin' the guvmint way the h.e.l.l and gone out here, so Gen'rel Lyons could wreck the capital city,” Halbred said, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of his fellow representatives, many of whom were not entirely sober themselves. ”But gawdammit, sir-”
”Watch yer language, Halbred!” Summers shouted.
”Yessir! But Preston, gawdammit, all he's done these past weeks is sit on his hindquarters back there at his headquarters,” this pun elicited a roar of approving laughter from the other delegates, ” 'n exchange pleasantries with this Gen'rel Zombie! I mean, people are callin' Gen'rel Lyons 'granny,' the way he moves so d.a.m.n slow! Well, I call 'im the 'King of Spades,' Preston, the way he's diggin' all those fortifications!” More roars of laughter and catcalls from the delegates. Halbred's little pot belly shook with joy at the attention he was getting and his greasy red ringlets hung down around his collar, jiggling every time he shook his head. ”Now I wanna know why you ain't yet removed him, like the Committee on the Construct-Conduct-of the War has recommended.”
”Halbred, I haven't removed General Lyons because I am the commander in chief and I do not wish to remove him,” Summers said, carefully p.r.o.nouncing every word. Some people, when they are excited, revert to the language or the idiom of their home regions, although they otherwise use Standard English to communicate. Just the opposite was true of Preston Summers. Several of the representatives shouted ”Hear! Hear!” but others booed their disagreement. ”Pipe down, gawdammit!” Summers shouted. ”Gen'rel Lyons has got a strategy-”
”My a.s.s has got a strategy, which at least I can find with both hands!” Stutz shouted to the vast amus.e.m.e.nt of his cronies.
”Halbred,” Summers replied carefully, ”I don't have my cane with me today, but if you will permit, I'll go home 'n fetch 'im and do a job on your thick skull that you won't soon fergit!” The reference to the caning Summers had given to the Confederation representative from St. Brendan's World elicited roars of laughter, applause, and ribald comments throughout the chamber. On the verge of a desperate war, the outcome of which was severely in doubt, the representatives were enjoying the lively debate. It was a pleasant distraction from the deadly boring business of running a vast enterprise such as their Coalition. In the early stages of their rebellion, the senate had resounded with flowery speeches and the delegates threw themselves body and soul into creating a new, unified, government to conduct their mutual affairs. But that spirit of cooperation and enterprise had soon cooled amid the minutiae of running a government and the vicissitudes of war.
”You sumb.i.t.c.h!” Stutz roared, ”yew manage to hobble yer old bones outta that comfortable chair of yers 'n I'll oblige by puttin' another hole in yer head!” and to emphasize the remark, he drew a pistol from his pocket, which he waved triumphantly over his head, grinning lopsidedly up at Summers.
”Fire a round!” someone shouted.
Stutz, grinning broadly now, turned to the chamber, bowed slightly, and pocketed the weapon. He turned back to Summers. ”Mr. President, I believe we would dearly love to hear what that 'strategy' might be.”
”Gentlemen, it's very simple, as are all good plans,” Summers began in a tired voice, because it had all been explained in detail before. ”Admiral de Gauss maintains his fleet in orbit around Ravenette. General Lyons, who now has an army of over a million men at his disposal, draws the Confederation reinforcements in to Fort Seymour-if they can get through the blockade, which will be costly to do- where he defeats them with his superior firepower. The Confederation's military forces are stretched very thin, gentlemen, and it will have to rely on levies, not the very best front-line troops. You know who those levies will be, city boys mostly, part-time soldiers, well-fed, well-bred boys who have no real stake in this war. They'll be up against our men, who know how to carry a gun. When the people of the Confederation start to see those long casualty lists, this war is over, gentlemen.”
The chamber erupted again into shouting and applause.
”So that, Halbred, is why good ol' Gen'rel Lyons has laid siege to Fort Seymour and is in no hurry to take it, which he could do in five minutes flat. It's a magnet, it'll draw 'em in and he'll squash 'em.”