Alexander rolled a pen between his fingers. “But surely Croser—if it is he—couldn’t think that such a force could overthrow the government? After all, the Brotherhoods can call out hundreds of thousands of troops in an emergency.”
Whitlock waved the tip of the cigar to emphasize his point. “Not attack and displace—but you’re thinkin’ in terms of modern warfare, small decisive campaigns, your Majesty. The enemy is usin’ an older model. Their target isn’t really your armed forces, it’s your society as a whole. They give you nothing to attack, while you have to guard everything. You can’t call out the Brotherhoods en masse for long; too much shuts down. And many of them are scattered on farms and ranches miles from anywhere when they’re not under arms. There’s a military saying—”
“Frederick the Great,” Owensford supplied. “Who defends everything, defends nothing. Quite true.”
“And a Chinese saying,” Whitlock continued, “which sums up the method: death by a thousand cuts.” Another puff. “Won’t work, not the way Croser had it planned original. The rebels are underestimatin’ the solidarity of your Brotherhoods; also how mad they’re getting.” A bleak smile. “Ruthless people don’t understand how mean good folks can get when their codes are violated. But he has outside help now, an that makes all the difference.
“‘Death of a thousand cuts’ applies politically as well as militarily,” Whitlock continued. “This referendum he’s pushing, for example.”
David snorted. “A farce. A referendum on universal suffrage, when we don’t have universal suffrage? Nothing but an opinion poll.”
Whitlock chuckled. “Thing is, you people have made a big thing of votes. Back on Earth, not three countries left where votin’ means a thing; doesn’t in the US, certainly. Here, it’s a jealously guarded privilege. Rest of the population figures since Citizens put so much store in it, vote must be a good thing to have. Since most Citizens won’t go within ten yards of Croser’s poll, give you odds it’ll be done scrupulous honest and still win big. No legal force—but it’ll polarize the population even more. Who’s going to come right out and admit: yes, I’m lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut and don’t deserve a say? There’ll be some appeal to those workin’ towards Citizen status for themselves or their kids, too.
“It’s psychological-political jujitsu. After he wins, he’ll claim a popular mandate. Then again, some of the measures you’re being forced to adopt will push the fringe of the Citizens towards Croser. Higher taxes, fo’ example. Then, limitin’ access to firearms. Necessary, but many of yourn have what amounts to a religious taboo against regulation of guns; ‘armed men are free men.’ Likewise war regulations of all sorts. Those who don’t go to Croser will be pushed towards the radicals on the other fringe, that poor fool Armstrong and his Secret Citizen’s Army, or the radical Pragmatist Party crowd. Lot of pure self-interest there, too. Frontier planets with labor shortages always have a tendency towards bound labor systems, slavery or indentured. Thin profit margins, an’ with full employment, workers tend to be mobile. Real, real temptin’ to use extra-economic means to get secure supplies of workers at a price that leaves some margin. Most of your Citizens’ve shown commendable restraint, but they’re getting mad and scared. And every move in that direction frightens the non-Citizens still more.”
“Wage slavery. Enserfment,” Alexander said. “I know it happens, but it is contrary to every principle on which this government was founded.”
“Sure,” Whitlock said. “But the enemy of every free man is a real greedy successful one. Biggest enemies of capitalism are successful capitalists. That’s why you got to have governments, but just havin’ one ain’t enough either. There’s plenty of people start at the bottom, get rich on freedom and hard work and then try to take over the government so they don’t have to work any more.
“Fact is, when all this is over, I got some advice for you on tinkerin’ with your system. Give your individual workers a bit more power and union bosses and owners a bit less. But that’s for happier times. Right now, this random terror campaign gets you tightenin’ the screws, giving more power to the owners ’cause they’re loyal, scaring the little guys. That, and showin’ the Royal government can’t offer protection even to the Citizens. Goin’ after non-Citizen loyalty and Citizen morale.”
The ring of faces around the table was set in grim anger; they had known the outlines of it, but the Earthman’s dispassionate assessment was a shock.
Owensford turned his uniform cap in his hands.
“It shows in their military approach,” he said meditatively. “Puzzled the hell out of me, at first. They didn’t seem to be fighting, as I understood the term. As Dr. Whitlock said, we’ve become accustomed to a certain style of warfare. Essentially limited, careful not to damage the prizes we’re fighting for, in societies too fragile to stand the strain of mass mobilization. War between condottieri captains; maneuver warfare, we’re prepared to fight, but only until one side has an unbeatable advantage. Then we make terms. Soldiers are few and expensive and very carefully trained, and the mercenary captains don’t expend them easily.
“Our enemies here,” he said, “aren’t fighting that kind of war. At all. And they’re willin’ to expend troops, ’cause they got more than you do.”
Dr. Whitlock ground out his cigar. “The details are in my report, gentlemen,” he concluded. “Sorry I couldn’t be more optimistic. You got some real problems. Nothin you couldn’t handle by muddlin’ along if they didn’t have offworld help, but they’ve got that. Lordy, do they ever.”
“And Bronson really wants to be emperor,” Elayne Rusher said.
“More likely Chairman,” Whitlock said. “But yes.”
“Emperor of what?” David Freedman demanded.
“As much as possible, Your Majesty.”
“That’s impossible,” Peter Owensford said.
Whitlock shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Look at it like this. Sparta’s neutralized. Far from having an army and the beginnings of a fleet, you won’t have control of your own planet. Get the Grand Senate to depose Lermontov before things come apart, while people are still listening to the Senate, and put a Bronson man in as Grand Admiral—”
“Would the Fleet permit that?” Alexander asked.
“They might. Strong tradition in the Fleet, obey orders and stay out of politics. And stay together. As long as Bronson is careful about who he puts in, there’ll be a lot of pressure to go along, stay together. The last thing most of those captains want is war with each other.”
“Will that happen?” Lysander demanded.
“Probably not. First place, he hasn’t got the votes to depose Lermontov, won’t so long as Grant hangs on.”
“We can presume you have done all you can do on that score,” Lysander said. Whitlock nodded. “So. Since there’s no more we can do, we concentrate on our own problems. You can prove that it’s Bronson who’s aiding the rebels?”
“Yes, Highness, and not long ago that would have been enough. Grand Senators aren’t supposed to be pursuin’ wars of their own. But the fact is, the CoDominium’s coming apart fast. It’s every senator for himself. Or herself. And Bronson will offer what it takes to get what he wants.”
“Because he doesn’t intend to honor his debts.”
“Maybe, but don’t count on it. Good politicians keep promises, and he’s been in politics a long time. Don’t matter anyway, what’s obvious is that Bronson’s got massive resources on and off Earth. The Bronson family’s disposable income is certainly greater than the Dual Monarchy’s.”
“And he’s willing to spend billions supporting our enemies,” Alexander said.
“Sure. He needs a regiment factory. You have one,” Whitlock said. “When the CoDominium collapses, it’ll be like the fall of the Roman Empire. Bronson’s Earth-side money’ll be gone anyway. Right now it’s use it or lose it time.”
“New Washington,” Lysander said. “What about that?”
Whitlock nodded. “That’s going well. Falkenberg and his employers have a good half the planet under control, and a handle on the rest as long as the Fleet doesn’t interfere. It won’t, because Lermontov’s seeing to it, but that’s using up a lot of the Blaine and Grant clout.”
“Leaving none for us, which is why we can’t count on the local CD fleet to protect our recon satellites,” Lysander said.
“That’s the size of it, Your Highness. On the other hand, the New Washington situation won’t last forever, and when that’s done, you’re the top order of business.” Whitlock shrugged. “All you have to do is hold on. We got us a political war here, and we going to have to make some political plans. I’ll be talkin’ with y’all about that another time.”
“I just realized,” David Freedman said. “If we hadn’t become involved with Lermontov, this would have gone on anyway. Croser would have built his strength, with help from Bronson, and we’d never have known it was happening.”
Lysander’s voice was not much above a whisper. “And no one cares about Sparta. We’re just a catspaw in a larger game.”
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273