ate replied. "To the hell with this! What's your name?" "Khaina, sir." Khaina, "wolf," was one of the most widely used names among the fighting clans of the mountainous country. "Whose vassal was your father?" "He was a vassal of Sarvak clan." Sarvak clan! Sarvaks were vassals of the White Falcon clan that Kissur belonged to. "How many Aloms are in the division?" Bemish asked trying to suppress shudder in his voice. "I can't know, sir. We are Federation soldiers and we swore an oath to serve the Federation. Aloms do not break their oaths." Bemish paused. Ten soldiers sitting around the fire looked at him with curiosity. Almost everybody had blond or reddish hair, wide eyes and eyebrows tips that were almost flying... "What's your contract salary?" Bemish asked suddenly. "Three hundred credits a year, sir," Khaina said. Three hundred credits a year! The minimal yearly unemployment benefits for a Federation citizen was eleven hundred twelve credits! Bemish turned and walked away searching for the colonel. Now he understood why the latter knew the difference between Aloms and Weians. X X X Bemish found Rogov in the living room. The colonel and several of his officers watched the day's broadcast closely. The colonel was interested not in the broadcast's content but rather in the layout of hangars, storages and chutes. The officers were watching the broadcast for the third time and the sound was turned off. It was difficult to guess, looking at their faces, what they thought about the broadcast after having seen it the first time. "Colonel! How many Aloms are in the division?" The colonel and the officers turned around like one. It looked like there were no Aloms among them except for this one, on the side... No, he was not an Alom, he was a half-breed something like a mix of a Dane and a Vietnamese... "Nobody has counted them," the colonel said calmly, as if he had been waiting for this question for a while, "but I think that it's about eighty to eighty five percent." "Eighty?!! Why?" The colonel grinned. "Mr. Bemish, have you ever served in the army?" "No." "Why?" "Because..." Bemish broke off. On the second day of their acquaintance, Kissur had asked him why he had never served in the army and Bemish remembered what he had said. The colonel smiled as if he guessed what Bemish had answered then and said. "The majority of fully fledged Federation citizens share your attitude towards the army, director. The army receives twenty times less budget financing than medicine. "And you enlist Aloms in the army!" "We enlist anybody who agrees to serve in the army." Here Bemish turned around and noticed that two more people entered the living room attracted by the argument - the Earth envoy, Mr. Severin and the emergency committee head, Mr. Shavash. "But three hundred credits is four times less than unemployment benefits!" "The unemployment benefits are allotted to Federation citizens, not to Aloms. You know very well that they are doomed to much greater poverty in their mountains. For centuries they have been indoctrinated that war is the only occupation worthy of a man, that man should kill, that death is the way to glory. They are happy to join Federation forces. The ones who pass our admission committees take it as a pass to heaven. They know that they will obtain citizenship in ten years of service. By the way, having received it, they don't leave the service. They are as happy to hold weapons in their hands as others are to hold women or money... Where else will you find such warriors? If a Federation citizen is born in a middle class family, he graduates from a college and he makes money. If he is born in a garbage can, he receives unemployment benefits and gobbles up hallucinogens..." "But three hundred credits!" "How much can we pay them? The military budget is one half percent of the GDP!" The envoy listened to their conversation in astonishment. Clearly, he also hadn't known who exactly guarded the borders of his great motherland. Probably, it was a delicate and not particularly popular subject. The military command was not in a hurry to announce that foreign barbarians made up eighty percent of the army, and that strong, healthy guys with excellent muscles and decent brains got paid three times less than hereditary unemployed saturated with drugs. "So, your soldiers are happy, aren't they?" Bemish asked with certain irony. "They are very happy, businessman! They grew up without commercials, human rights, credit cards and whores. They were taught that battle is the road to God! When their contracts run out and they become Federation citizens, they enlist again. They stay in the service!" "Where else can they go to?" Bemish grinned, "Into an investment company? You don't teach them anything but to how to kill. They are aliens in the world of the Federation." "They love the army! And they make twenty times more money here than they would make in their mountains!" "I think that they love the army in their first year, colonel. They love the army when they come there out of a mountain hut where their fathers had two sheep and where ten people slept in one room on a mud floor. In the barracks they have their own bunk beds and they get good food and they see 3D TV first time in their lives. But half a year or a year passes and they watch TV and learn our language. They start understanding that the country that enlisted them into their army pays their soldiers four times less than it pays its unemployed. They start understanding that three hundred credits would be enough to buy a farm in the mountains but it would not be enough to afford a bottle of beer every evening in a bar half a kilometer away from the camp... And they start comparing their own bunk beds not with their clay huts but with the cottages that they pass as they ride to training. And they start thinking that it's not fair that brave and strong people sit in barracks for three hundred credits a year while drooling weaklings sit on boards of directors. Is it true?" The colonel was silent. "Do you know how the previous Weian dynasty fell?" "Yes. Aloms conquered the Empire." "Your soldiers misinformed you, colonel. The people of the Empire were rich and lazy. They didn't like fighting and the government enlisted mostly war-loving barbarians into the army. Aloms didn't conquer the Empire. They simply served in its army and they came to own the Empire when no other troops were left." "How can you say so, Bemish?" the envoy was startled. "It's absolutely impossible. We are talking about a totally different time; they are just commandos, for God's sake!" A moan - or maybe a squeal - sounded next to Bemish.. The Earthman turned around. Shavash - the emergency committee's chairman, the official who called Federation troops in to Assalah to destroy his enemies - covered his face with his hands and was slowly sliding down the door frame to the floor. Shredding cloth crackled - Shavash's jacket caught on a brass decoration on the door frame, the jacket ripped apart and the official fainted and fell all the way to the floor. X X X Bemish stepped across his partner in export-import cooperative, Assako, and walked outside. Stars sparkled in the garden and the engine of an armored troop carrier still roared just as rhythmically as it had roared an hour ago - something was wrong with it. The army still bustled in the dark. It was not evident anymore, however, what side the army was on. Half of these people were White Falcons' vassals. The vassal oath was not inferior in any way to a military one! And nobody could claim that White Falcons would send them to fight for three hundred credits while they were sitting idle and getting rich. White Falcons didn't consider war to be an occupation suitable only for people who couldn't make money on the Exchange. Whatever else happened, when an Alom army entered a battle, White Falcons would ride in front. Somebody moved behind Bemish. The latter glanced aside and saw the colonel. Simultaneously, they started slowly walking down a path. "On what side do you think, your soldiers will fight?" Bemish asked. "I was going to ask you the same question," the colonel answered. They walked silently for a while. "I've heard a lot about Kissur," the colonel said. "Have you heard about him from the soldiers?" "Yes. I mean, from their songs. They don't always go nuts about our bands. They often sing their own songs." "Do they sing about Kissur?" "They sing about Kissur, about his father, grandfather, great grandfather, and so on - all the way to the original clan founder who, if I am not mistaken, married a forest mermaid." "You are mistaken. He didn't marry her, he raped her. And that caused some friction between him and a variety of forest and other outdoor fairies." "Oh, yes, that's right. They sang something along these lines. By the way, these are the songs by their other idol, Khanadar." "This villa is a gift of Kissur's," Bemish said. Here the garden path finished and they found themselves next to a pond. A small altar to Buzhva stood on the lawn in front of the pond and behind it rhododendrons were blooming. Bemish noticed some food out of a trooper's ration lying in the cup on the altar. If Aloms ate next to a god, they always shared their food. Seven or eight soldiers sat on the ground under the blooming rhododendrons passing along a white plastic flask with local wine. Bemish silently sat next to the soldiers and the colonel sat next to him. "Is it true that they don't allow you to speak Alom?" Bemish asked a soldier suddenly. He leaped up startled. "No... Why not..." He muttered in his native tongue. The colonel lay on the ground and closed his eyes. The soldier looked embarrassed; he stood up quickly and hurriedly disappeared behind the bushes. "This is the first man who talked to me in Alom," Bemish said. "He didn't know the Earthmen's language," the colonel spoke quietly. It took a bit for the colonel's words to soak into Bemish's mind. "He didn't know the Earthmen's language... Are you trying to say that it was not your soldier but rather a scout of Kissur's?" "Be silent, Mr. Bemish. I am not going to make speeches for you tonight." The soldiers around the fire sat in silence as if they didn't hear the conversation. The soldier that the spy had sat next to, handed the flask to Bemish. "Drink with us," he said in English. X X X Bemish didn't fall asleep till four am, he watched the camp's inhabitants escaping it like rats running away from a sinking ship. He saw a helicopter with the Federation envoy lifting - the latter suddenly decided to visit the capital. A couple of officials left afterwards. Then the counter-intelligence officers left. Strangely, Shavash was the last one to sneak away to the capital. Three officials, whose names decorated the list of the functionaries to be hanged, left with him. Now, only Federal troops were left. What's the deal, if you think about it? Why should it matter where a soldier was born? In the end, all of them swore the oath of allegiance to the Federation while only slightly more than one third of them were Kissur's vassals. The sentries stood guard perfectly but Bemish heard more and more of Alom spoken around the tents. They switched back to English at his appearance, however. Bemish returned to the bedroom about four. Not taking his clothes off, he crashed down on the bed and almost immediately fell asleep. It was light, by the time Bemish woke up, wind out of the window blew a gauze curtain inside and the sun beat and hopped on a marble table's surface. Bemish turned around still feeling groggy - something was lacking in his attire. What was it, jacket or, excuse me, underwear? Bemish turned around again, feeling the empty gun holder flatten under him. Everything was there except for the gun. Bemish jumped off the bed and ran to the entrance door. The door opened wide and Bemish was relieved to see a commando wearing a Federation uniform behind it. The commando, placed his feet wider apart, shifted his hands on his assault rifle to a more comfortable position and declared, "Sorry, Mr. Bemish. You are not allowed to leave." "Who says so?" "I do," a voice came from behind. Bemish turned around. Kissur stood next to the door leading into the inner halls. Two or three paratroopers lingered behind him. Bemish silently, without thinking jumped at Kissur. This time he was even less lucky. Kissur locked his leg and Bemish tried twisting in the air. At this moment, the commando standing behind him connected his rifle's butt to Bemish's head. The latter barely heard Kissur screaming at the soldier, then, the walls and floor around him turned into thousands of fiery butterflies and flew at him. Bemish fainted. He regained his senses much later - he sat in a military helicopter that had, probably, just taken off the villa's roof. Bemish's hands were handcuffed to a stand behind the pilot's chair and commandos guarded him on both sides. Bemish thought that he was unlikely to escape but here the helicopter jerked in the air. Bemish dropped his head on an Alom's shoulder and fainted again. Next time, he recovered in the spaceport - in his own office, well known to him. His wrists were still handcuffed and somebody thoughtfully deposited him on a black leather sofa located behind his own working table. Having turned his head slightly, he could barely make out the tall back of his own armchair - the armchair that Ashinik had boorishly sat in two days ago. However, nobody was present in the armchair now. Kissur adroitly operated Bemish's own computer sitting slightly to the side, where a department's head would usually be. "Well," Kissur said, "Who was right, you or me? I didn't loose a fight with the special forces' paratroopers, did I?" "You knew," Bemish articulated. His tongue resisted him and lolled in his mouth like a swollen sausage. "You knew how many Aloms served in Federal troops." "Naturally I did." "You are an idiot, Kissur. You took over one division and you think that you won the fight with Federation." "Oh, are you going to send me more troops? Thank you, it's very kind of Earthmen." "Cretin! How many of you, Aloms, are in the army - twenty or thirty thousand? Do you think that ten thousand - even if they are very well trained cutthroats - can win a fight with the Federation of twenty billion? With all our equipment? They will just press a button and eliminate you." "How?" Kissur asked him, "Are you going to drop a nuclear bomb on us? Or is it going to be a meson one?" Bemish bit his lip. It was true. To use standard shock troops against Kissur would be either dangerous - if there were Aloms among them- or simply useless. The troops would meet with at least equally trained Federation paratroopers. To use nuclear weapons against a tiny bit of barbarians on a backwards planet would demonstrate Federation's incredible military weakness. It went without saying, that such actions would violate all official and unofficial human rights regulations. "You are free," Kissur said. "You can go to the capital. Tell them, that our conditions changed. We demand Federation representatives to come to Assalah - we would like to discuss the future relationship between Weia and the Federation. The Federation president or the first minister should come with the delegation." Bemish suddenly imagined old Yadan conducting talks with the demons' president and this idea was so comical that he couldn't smother laughter. "I would like to ask you one thing, Kissur," Bemish spoke unexpectedly. "Everything that you ask for is yours," the Alom replied. "Don't kill Shavash... He... In the end, you got your commandos thanks to him!" A strange, almost laughing expression came over Kissur's face. "He has already killed the little scoundrel..." Bemish thought. "He killed or disabled him with his own hands..." At this moment, however, something moved on his side. Shavash entered the office and sat to the right of Kissur, in the director's armchair. "I took it upon myself to overhear your conversation at the door," the official spoke, smiling. "Your request touched me, Terence. But as you see, Kissur was not going to kill me, to begin with." "You? What are you doing in this office?" Shavash, laughing, placed his hand on Kissur's shoulder. "Why shouldn't I be in this office? You see, it's my armchair... Haven't you forgotten that I was the Assalah Company director? Do you think that could I request this state appointment back due to the company's bankruptcy?" "Do you think, Terence," Kissur inquired, "that Shavash didn't know how many Aloms serve in your army? But even he had to sweat quite a bit, to get them called in! I've never thought that there could be a country that was so set against sending its troops anywhere!" Bemish lowered his head. He could see already the scale of the swindling operation. Oh, my God! That's why such a careful official for the first time in his life insisted so decisively on taking an unpopular action. To think that the other Weians agreed to it to compromise Shavash! Still, something smelled fishy here... "So," Bemish said, "was the quarrel between you and Kissur completely faked? "I am sorry, Terence, I am so sorry. It was a complete and utter fake." "But Yadan, you and Yadan, you and Ashinik - it's not possible, Shavash! The fanatics hate you." Kissur left the room, smiling; he was probably going to give some orders. The official silently beckoned Bemish with his finger and the latter crawled off the sofa, fighting the pain. Shavash approached a window and pulled the blinds up. Bemish stretched his head over Shavash's shoulder and looked out of the window. Out of the director's office windows, a beautiful view opened up at the landing field strewn with the black bodies of fighter helicopters and commandos in spotty camouflage. But the construction's director attention was pulled towards something else. They had used railroad tracks to pull a huge cargo crane RV-37 into the middle of the field. The crane was generally used to correct the positioning of rockets and to load containers heavier than 700 tons. This time, the crane's load was much smaller than the maximum allowed weight. The crane's jib pointed to the sky and twelve... no, thirteen bodies were swinging under it and Bemish recognized his ex-deputy - young Ashinik - hanging to the side. Two squeaking yellow vultures were already circling the crane... "The zealots and rebels," Shavash said coolly, "disturbed the Empire, babbled too much and addled people's minds. It was not possible to catch them all at once - they hid, showed up only separately and threatened to avenge the deaths of their comrades. Now we gathered all of the zealots in one place and destroyed this filth once and forever. Now, when we are not bothered by the crazy gangs, we can negotiate with the Federation as a real state. The simple people that believed zealots will believe Kissur. The officials terrified by zealots will trust me." Shavash turned away from the window. The setting sun was burning and melting in the small official's eyes, his half-opened lips were twisted in a smile... "Why?" Bemish asked suddenly. "Why do you hate us, Shavash? I don't mean myself, I mean the Federation." The official's face contorted. "Why? Can't you figure it out, Terence? I hate you because you are so clean; I hate your sparkling cars, your gleaming wraps, your advertisement boards. I hate you because when you arrive at the dirtiest town, you build a hotel for yourself without dirt and poverty. A poor people hate a rich one, haven't you known that?" "I didn't know that you were poor," Bemish muttered. "I thought that you stole enough from your own people." Shavash laughed. "I was not always rich - have you forgotten that? Do you know how I became literate? I stood next to announcement boards and compared the herald's words with letters. My father was the poorest shaman in the village; I stole on the streets and drank out of mud pools. I was lucky - I met Nan and instead of ending up in a gang, I ended up in the White Buzhva Lycee. Not that it would make any difference to an Earthman... When I was an official seven years ago, I had been waiting for my arrest, torture and exile every day. Have you ever expected being arrested, Terence? Even if you were arrested for DWI, I don't think that you would be thrown in an earth pit." "I don't argue that," Bemish agreed. "The earth pits are a strong point of your civilization." "They are a strong point, indeed, Terence - life lacks spice without them. It's like meat without salt." Shavash swung his hand sharply. "When you convey our demands for negotiations Terence, don't forget to stress that they should take place at the highest level. The Federation president will head the Galactic delegation and I will head the Weian one." "You are both nuts," Bemish muttered glumly. "Damn the day when I thought that you, Shavash, were a normal official only because you took a lot of bribes." X X X Accompanied by Kissur, Bemish walked down the main spaceport building. It was in somewhat better condition than he had expected - he saw even occasional unbroken bottles in the bars. The floor had been cleaned recently and the main hall's announcement board still carried the old slogan "Long live the party of people's freedom." The building had suffered several millions worth of damage but Bemish, surprisingly, didn't really care. Really, yesterday morning he had been sure that they would fire meson artillery directly at the construction. What was a torn apart monitor next to a SpaceExtra stand after that? Ashinik, Ashinik! Did you think that after demanding Kissur's appointment to the first minister that the latter would hang you on a tower crane in twenty four hours?! "Where are common zealots?" Kissur ran his hand across his neck. Bemish realized why the floor had been recently washed. "How many of them were here?" "It was no more than a hundred," Kissur lied coolly. "Bullshit! There were more than two thousand of them!" Kissur shrugged his shoulders. "Can I see colonel Rogov?" Bemish asked. They walked up a motionless ascender to the second floor and entered the air traffic control room. The colonel lay on the table. Somebody had placed a white pillow under his head, crossed his hands on his chest and placed a funeral wreath made out of white flowers. It was an Alom burial custom for warriors. "Have they killed him?" "He was a real warrior and he didn't need another's hand to pull the trigger," Kissur answered. Bemish shifted the wreath up and saw a barely noticeable hole at the colonel's temple under large whitecandle petals." "Should I have done the same?" Bemish asked. "You are a businessman. It's not yours." Bemish lowered the wreath silently and left the room. Kissur stayed for a moment to rearrange the flowers correctly. "I am glad that there are still warriors left on Earth," Kissur said. X X X It proved impossible later to find out how many zealots had been killed that day accordingly to Shavash's and Kissur's orders. It was absolutely known that not a single zealot present in the spaceport during the night of ninth had escaped it alive. Shavash and Kissur always claimed that it had been about one hundred to one hundred fifty corpses. They were interested in bringing the estimated number of "lunatic maniacs" down. Accordingly to Bemish's calculations, at least three thousand zealots crowded in the spaceport when the whole thing started. They had all been let inside the buildings and on the landing field. Most of these peasants had never seen before wondrous buildings of glass and steel where staircase moved on their own and announcement ran across the ceiling, where they couldn't even squat in a corner to take a crap. Few of them walked away, returning to their homes, on the second day of their stay in the spaceport, especially since "yellow coats" blocked the roads. It became clear why Kissur had let the passenger hostages go - he didn't want any witnesses around and he didn't want them to get in the way accidentally. Later, Bemish dragged some details of the massacre out of his own employees. Everything happened only after the paratroopers had come in. There were two thousand of Aloms in the spaceport and there were two trained supermen per every unarmed peasant. They killed the zealots with knives and bare hands; they didn't use any firearms or lasers. They were not afraid of noise, especially since lasers didn't make any. However, they were afraid of damaging the equipment and they didn't want a laser ray, for instance, to jab into the floor and leave a trace that they would not be able to hide afterwards. They accidentally killed a dozen personnel including the head technician of the heating systems. He was the only heating systems tech left in the spaceport and they almost got themselves into a crisis. Thankfully, a commando sergeant figured the system out. Then they performed the great cleaning of the building - they washed the floors, scrubbed guts of the walls, checked everything mercilessly - so that, God forbid, somebody's brains would not get stuck in a bar behind a box with salted peanuts. They dragged the corpses away to the landing field, opened the thermoconcrete up and burned the hell out of everything with modern weapons - neutron guns and annihilators. Not a speck was left of the corpses and the ground was baked for two hundred meters down into a glass pancake... Then they sealed thermoconcrete back up and everything was tip-top. They threatened the personnel to cut their families down to a fifth removed degree, including children in their mothers' bellies if anybody spoke an extra word to the media. One hundred fifty people were all. You could count them - all the stiffs were present, lying in a neat pile next to the cargo terminal... Concerning commandos, it was discovered that there were twenty six hundred three Aloms and eighty six Earthmen in the division. Sixteen Earthmen were officers. The most interesting part of it was that while all non-Aloms had the opportunity to leave, some of them stayed. The colonel and two more officers shot themselves and sixteen Earthmen, desperate adventurers joined their comrades and went to Kissur the White Falcon. In spite of the official Federation language being the only one allowed spoken in the army, they had picked up some Alom on the way. They took Bemish on a brief trip around the building that belonged to him. At every corner, he saw people wearing Federation military uniforms and babbling in Alom. In the air traffic control office, he saw a small group of personnel that were so sleep deprived that they were no longer frightened of anything. The guards walked Bemish to a car that stood on the landing field with the engine already running and politely suggested to him to get out of there. Bemish silently climbed into the car and pushed the accelerator. One after another, the gates on the landing field opened, letting him through. Bemish drove down the same road that they had taken yesterday bringing him in. Rice fields still glistened in the sun and olive trees still stood along the old road. The soldiers and the zealots had torn all the fruits off breaking the branches in the process. Olive trees were always planted along the roads - road dust covered fruits forcing them to ripe quicker. A fighting banner of the White Falcon clan and a standard of the Empire were swaying above his villa. Bemish kept going forward. Kissur, however, still didn't have that many soldiers and it looked to Bemish like they were mostly concentrated in the spaceport. Few posts were present on the road - they were constantly on the line with the headquarters. Next to the turn leading to the villa, Bemish noticed a dozen commandos. A line of "yellow jackets" and Empire troops started soon after, a kilometer and a half away from the villa. Journalists lingered behind them. The soldiers at the road block waved their hands and their assault rifles at him. A studded chain lay across the road, Bemish slowed down, turned across the chain and waited - a large pack of policemen, journalists and Earthmen was running towards him. Strangely, there were many more journalists this time and Bemish could only blink at the camera flashes. The reasons for that were pretty simple. Most of the officials that had tried to keep the media away were now in Assalah. "Are you all right, sir?" a guard asked. Another clicked the gun bolt. The assault rifle in his hands gleamed in the sun reflecting rice fields and clouds turned upwards down. "Yes," Bemish said climbing out of the car. Five minutes later, a police helicopter with a yellow band on the side - the symbol of the Department of Serenity and Justice - was flying him to the capital. The helicopter landed next to the sovereign's palace, right at Seven Grains Hotel. Here, the highest provincial functionaries used to await their award or execution; here, the head of the sect that wanted to make peace to Earthmen had been killed eleven months ago. A whole flock of journalists rushed towards Bemish. The first among them was a guy wearing a square pattern sleeveless shirt. This guy had written a while ago that the Assalah Company director hadn't been proficient in Weian and had mistakenly taken metaphorical "demons" for a literate statement. "Is it true that the Federation troops switched their alliance to Kissur?" "It is true," Bemish replied. "Why?" "The division was 90% Alom," Bemish replied. "At the same time, there was not a single Alom officer in it. So, the Federation soldiers decided to fight for the man who belonged to the clan that their ancestors swore fealty to. They didn't want to fight for the people that paid them three hundred credits a year. I was told that the other commando divisions had the same number of Aloms in them." "About ten members of the emergency committee ended up in Kissur's hands. Kissur demanded their arrest and execution. What happened to them? Is it true that Shavash is dead?" "Shavash is quite alive," Bemish said. "His quarrel with Kissur was an utter fabrication. He called the Federation soldiers in to provide Kissur with troops." Everybody gaped - they didn't know anything yet and Bemish was the first one to openly state what had happened. "What about the zealots?" a journalist shouted, "Are they also in?" "No," Bemish said. "The fight between Shavash and zealots could end only with one of the sides being destroyed. Once the Federation soldiers had switched their alliance to Kissur, he used them to exterminate the zealots. I saw the sect's leaders hanging on a cargo crane with my own eyes." It was astonishing that nobody asked at that moment what happened to the rest of the zealots. Somehow everybody decided that "the extermination of zealots" was limited only to the execution of a dozen leaders. "What does Kissur want?" somebody shouted. "They demanded that the corrupted government to step down and now half of the corrupted government is hanging out in Assalah! What's gonna happen next?" "Kissur has no more demands for his own government," Bemish explained. "Kissur would like Weia and the Federation to conduct talks about their future relations. The negotiations are to be held at the highest possible level." After this brief but shocking interview, Bemish entered the hotel where they were already waiting for him. In the Hall of the Gifts from Afar, a table made in the shape of a grape bunch stood on gilded legs that resembled ram's hooves. At this table, provincial governors had officially delivered gifts to palace department heads. Now twenty people sat behind it. Bemish recognized half a dozen of them - Federation envoy Severin, general Stesh, the deceased Giles' boss, ex-first minister Yanik and a couple of high Weian officials. The others were Earthmen - five senators and three people with general insignias. "They flew in here without troops," Bemish thought about the people in military uniforms. "They don't make generals out of Aloms, they only make soldiers out of them." Bemish's story about his stay in the terrorists' nest was heard out in dead silence. "Are you sure that there is not a single zealot left in the spaceport?" envoy Severin asked again. "There is not a single alive zealot present," Bemish assured him. "But it totally changes the situation," a delegate said. "We wouldn't have been able to conduct negotiations with zealots. Shavash's presence changes the picture. He is a normal person..." "Shavash is a normal man, isn't he?!" Bemish shouted. "Would, in your opinion, a normal man get three thousand people together just to exterminate them all?" "Well, you can't deny that it improved the situation in the country. Shavash's desire to get rid of destabilizing forces..." "He wouldn't give a fig about them being destabilizing forces! Shavash would make a deal with destabilizing forces, demons, devils, Gera, with God knows whom. He just had a misfortune to have a personal quarrel with the zealots' spiritual head and so he killed them all." "What are you suggesting we do?" it was Severin talking. "There are no more hostages in the spaceport. There are only terrorists and soldiers that betrayed their oath. We have the right to destroy them by any means accessible to a superpower," Bemish said. "Do you mean nuclear weapons?" Severin inquired. "I suggest doing what Kissur would do in our situation. He would not think for a moment about negotiating with an enemy. He would not think about it even if there were three thousand hostages! We should not do what Kissur expects us to." One general elbowed another quietly and asked him about the relationship between Bemish and the spaceport. Having found out that Bemish was certainly the owner of the property to be destroyed, he gazed at the businessman with satisfaction. "I have a firm opinion," Bemish continued, "that we should not hold any negotiations with Shavash. This man doesn't even know what ethics is, whether is has wings or a tail. He treats people in the following way, "If one parrot keels over, we'll buy another one." He will cheat you because he will lie to you about the things that you take for granted. You wouldn't even consider checking them out as you wouldn't consider testing the gravitational constant." "Unfortunately," a counter-intelligence officer spoke, "there are six large paratrooper divisions currently in Weian orbit. They had all been called in just before the commandos switched over to Kissur. There are about ten thousand commandos there and eighty five hundred of them are Aloms. These ships rotate around Weia and we don't really know whose side they are on. As long as the Federation agrees to negotiate with Kissur, they are certainly the Federal troops. If the soldiers learn, however, that an order came out to use nuclear weapons against Kissur..." "What will happen then?" "We have certain reasons to believe," the officer spoke surrounded by dead silence, "that in this case our own commandos may commit a series of terrorist attacks similar to Kissur's. They may do it on Earth, on Vain, on Tennox - on the largest Federation planets." "So, we just don't have an alternative - we have to negotiate with Mr. Shavash," Bemish summarized. "Yes. We have to do it at the highest level, as they demanded." X X X Truly, the delegation came out to be very impressive. It was led by the state secretary Khaime Khodsky, the third person in the Federation after the president. It also included the foreign affairs minister Camilla Leyson, the defense minister, two four star generals (one of them commanded the Fourth Space Army) and five senators. They spent a while arguing about where to conduct the talks. Shavash told them to fly to Assalah - just land on the field and we'll meet you there. However, Bemish didn't like that idea. The belligerent financier somehow happened to become one of the key figures during the talks and he was especially appreciated by the army people who had insisted on immediate cancellation of the negotiations. Bemish claimed that as the Assalah spaceport director he couldn't guarantee the safety of the landing on purely technical grounds. It was not a joke - there were almost no qualified air traffic controllers left and the few that were still around had been crapping in their pants with fright for three days in a row. Shavash declared that he would not go to the capital. "Are you afraid that you will be arrested?" Shavash briskly objected that he was afraid of nothing but he didn't trust a lot of people, first of all, Mr. Bemish who had learned some things on Weia. "Who have I learned it from?" Bemish exploded right in the face that was smiling at him from the screen, "Hasn't it been you and Kissur?" "State secretary, could you please, get this mutt out of here?" Shavash demanded. "He is not even a Federation official!" Bemish silently turned away and left the hall without waiting to be shown to the door. X X X Behind the wall, in the foyer, General Ackles, the Fourth Space Army's commander, sat surrounded by all the military HQ small fries and silently studied the carved ceiling. The ceiling was decorated with hanging grape bunches. "That's a fancy room," the general said. "What does the writing above the door say?" "It's the name of the room," Bemish answered. "It's the Hall of Seven Grape Bunches. It's quite a historic place. Here Emperor Attakh ordered the head to be hacked off to his most faithful military commander." "Why?" the general inquired. "The people claim that it happened because of an imps' wedding. These local demons needed a place for a wedding and they bribed a palace official. The demons had fun in the hall all night and no correct decisions can be made here since. That's why the commander was executed." The general gave a long turbid look to the company director and then asked him, "Have they arranged the meeting?" "No. Shavash is afraid of coming to the capital." "Do you understand what he wants?" "Hell knows what he wants," Bemish said exasperatedly. "He can't really want any territorial concessions, can he, general? And if he wants the Earthmen to get off Weia, he doesn't even have to ask us about it. I think that after what's happened, we will run away from this planet faster than a mouse runs away from a fox." "If they can't agree on where to hold the negotiations, it will all fall through," the general noted. Here, somebody carefully touched Bemish on the shoulder. The latter turned around - the minister of the police, Mr. Akhotoi stood behind him. "They would like to talk to you," Akhotoi said, "Could you, please, follow me?" Akhotoi walked Bemish down hotel corridors, where frightened brass gods squinted their eyes from the daylight lamps, and down garden paths covered with yellow sand. Akhotoi walked Bemish to a small pavilion with a roof that resembled swallow's wings and opened the doors in front of him. A slim man with a white, almost transparent face and flying eyebrows sat inside the pavilion. Even though the man wore European dress, Bemish recognized the Emperor almost immediately and he was jolted a bit. It was quite surprising that during the last three days of the crisis when everybody - Kissur, zealots, governmental officials and even Earthmen - had the Emperor's name on their tongue tips the entire time, nobody, as far as Bemish remembered, heard anything from the Emperor himself. And nobody discussed anything with him. Or was that really the case? Did Kissur call the Emperor? Another man stood next to the Emperor - an Empire's ex-first minister Nan also known as David Steighton. "Bow immediately," the police minister hissed from behind. Bemish hurriedly created something between a bow and a one knee stand and as he was rising, he saw a sarcastic smile on Nan's face. "Good day, Mr. Bemish," Emperor Varnazd's voice was quiet as usual and it somewhat resembled a child's cry. "I am glad to see you hale. Tell me, what," here the Emperor stumbled "does my vice minister of finance, Shavash, want from the Federation?" "Is he still a vice minister? Hasn't he been declared a criminal?" The Emperor looked sulky. That's right. Shavash had so many friends now that even the Emperor would not even dare to withdraw his appointment. Damn it, the man was blackmailing the whole Galaxy and his state was too timid even to kick him in the butt! That was no good. It looked like an authorized Empire official would be making demands of the Earthmen. "It would be very hard for me to declare Kissur a criminal," the Emperor whispered. "What do they want?" "I don't know. They will announce it only when they meet the delegation." "Nan is saying the same," the Emperor spoke, turning his face towards the figure standing soundlessly next to a carved column. "But he landed in Assalah." That was news for Bemish. He knew that the ex-first minister was flying to Weia but to land in the spaceport taken over by the terrorists... "When will the talks start?" "It's unknown. Our delegation is not going to go to Assalah and Shavash is scared to death of going to the capital of the county where he is an authorized official." The sarcasm in Bemish's voice was too evident and the Emperor looked petulant. "The talks can take place in my palace," sovereign Varnazd said. "I swear that both sides will be safe here. I don't think that our troops or Earth's security services would dare to smear our traditions and start any violence in my palace. I also don't think that Mr. Shavash would dare refuse coming into his sovereign's palace when the sovereign guarrantees his safety." The sovereign lowered his head showing that the meeting came to an end. Bemish bowed to take a leave when suddenly the Emperor said quietly, "What about Kissur? How is he? He looked so pale on the screen..." "Kissur feels like a fish in the river," Bemish assured him, "unlike the three thousand men he killed yesterday." And he left. X X X Of course, Shavash didn't dare to ignore the guarantees given by the sovereign. Really, if an Empire's vice minister, defending the sovereign's interests, refused to come to the palace, in the least, it would look like he handed an official resignation notice. A helicopter with Shavash accompanied by a dozen of his bodyguards landed at the sovereign's palace at six in the morning. Palace guards with expressionless faces walked the incomers to the Rainbow Pavilion where the Federation delegates had gathered. The meeting took place on the first floor, in the Hall of White Clouds. The Earthmen sat around the table and silently studied their notebooks involuntarily glancing at the beautiful jars of pure silver decorated with dancing swans and peacocks. The palace servants brought these jars in, filled with special palace wine aged on nut leaves mixed with pine needles. The state secretary Khodsky was probably very thirsty - he would constantly wet his lips in a wine glass, sniff at the smell that felt wrong at a diplomatic meeting and put the glass back down. Bemish suddenly realized that conducting the negotiations in palace territory handed certain advantages to Shavash. Everything here was filled with traditions and Empire; the proficient palace servants put wondrous wine jars on the table but they didn't even think about bringing mineral water in plastic bottles. The people sitting here were quite well off and one of them had almost had to resign a year ago having spent too much money refurnishing a new Federation Defense building. However, the deeply alien luxury of this hall, scaly pictures on the walls and silver beams that were round like the sun could not but influence the delegates, albeit on a subconscious level. Shavash, on the other hand, had visited this hall for dozens of times. He was in his element. At 6:15 they heard steps and Shavash walked into the meeting hall. He wore a European suit and he was impeccably shaved but something foreign entered the hall with him. Bemish sniffed and realized what happened - instead of eau-de-cologne Shavash used an expensive local perfume. Bemish unwillingly thought that it would throw the delegates off a bit. At the same time, when Shavash started giving interviews to journalists, he would look like a true Galaxy man - you could not film a perfume. After some hesitation, state secretary Khodsky silently rose to meet Shavash. The latter bowed to him and took a place across the table from Khodsky. Bemish noticed Khodsky's nose twitching alertly taking the unfamiliar smell in. "We," the state secretary said, "fulfilled your requirements and arrived at Weia. Now, we would like to listen to your conditions." "We would like," Shavash answered, "you to accept the Empire of Great Light into the Federation of Nineteen." Bemish thought that he had missed something. "We will withdraw from the confrontation and release the remaining hostages," Shavash repeated, "if Weia joins the Federation of Nineteen as a federation state." Several seconds passed by in stunned silence. "To achieve this," the Fourth Space Army commander acidly noted, "you didn't have to declare a war on the Federation of Nineteen." "On the contrary," Shavash objected, "if we hadn't declared a war, you wouldn't have even considered our proposition. You would have calculated quickly the cost of all the social programs and long-term investments that you would have to run on Weia as a Federation state. Afterwards, you would have politely told us that moral reasons would prevent you from taking actions that could be considered as a annexation of an independent state." Shavash was smiling. Bemish went cold. Really, incorporating Weia into the Federation of Nineteen would solve many if not all of its problems... But... Such a pile of money... Bemish imagined a barefoot street beggar getting minimal Federation unemployment benefits. "But," the state secretary broke off, "there are no precedents..." "That's not true," Shavash replied, "In the first century BC, Latin tribes declared a war on Rome trying to obtain Roman citizenship. During the Mexican War of 1848, the radical party of Mexico insisted that the country should be annexed by the United States. It's sad, gentlemen, that a Weian knows your history better than you do." Bemish grinned. Referring to the past was indeed typical for a Weian official. Shavash continued, smiling. "Imagine that you reject our proposal and continue the war. Accordingly to well-known reasons, your mobile tactical units are unreliable and you can't use them. There are too many Weians there. It means that you will have to destroy half of the Empire with strategic weapons. The reputation of the Federation of Nineteen will be horribly compromised! At the same time, you will exhibit unspeakable cruelty destroying a completely powerless country and you will exhibit unspeakable weakness. Really, what's can you say about the fighting ability of the country when half of its shock troops comes from a potential enemy?! The Federation's authority will be shattered. Gera and other enemies of yours will obtain a moral advantage. The Federation members, that have been demanding independence, will hurry to leave the union - they will declare that they completely disagree with Earth's politics." Shavash paused, sipped on his wine and continued. "Let's imagine now that you agree to our proposal and the Federation of Nineteen becomes the Federation of Twenty. It will be a triumph of democracy and freedom! An empire, a whole planet voluntarily sheds its freedom and independence to become a member of the Federation! The Federation doesn't need any weapons - it simply wins hearts over!" "It's crazy," the state secretary muttered. "This century is the time of separatism. Maybe the Empire is fated to turn this process back. Vadda desires independence. Won't its people change their opinion after the Empire's example? In any case, local politicians will find it more difficult to assure the nation that real happiness will come when the politicians don't have to obey the metropolis any longer." The state secretary's eyes lit up. He arrived at the Empire, having interrupted negotiations with Vadda. This planet was going to leave the Federation either with a scandal or with a huge scandal. Merry imps danced across the state secretary's eyes as he was thinking about Shavash's words. Meanwhile, Shavash continued. "What are the gains of winning a war? You take over a foreign country for the present and protect your future. What are the drawbacks of winning a war? The losers are embittered and they want revenge; the neighbors get wary. We offer you all the gains of a victorious war without its single drawback! Our proposal takes care of a multitude of problems. For instance, there is the problem of the lands surrounding the Empire. Their development has already started. It will clearly cause conflicts between the sovereign Empire and the Federation. If we are to join, the reasons for the conflicts will be gone. If you let us get away with our actions, you will demonstrate your weakness. Having declared a war on us, you will exhibit weakness and cruelty simultaneously. Both winning and losing the war will be catastrophic for you - you will find yourselves internationally isolated. You will look like demagogues instead of democrats. The Federation forces developing planets to respect the human rights. However, when the same planets ask it to uphold human rights, the Federation drops nuclear bombs on them having decided that upholding the human rights is just too expensive. If you reject our proposal, even a victorious war will be catastrophic for you. If you accept it, you remain a beacon of democracy and freedom. In the case of war, you will find yourself without tactical troops but with a reputation of a militaristic state. In the case of peace, you will obtain again the most reliable soldiers in the Galaxy and the reputation of a peaceful country!" "What will happen to the Emperor?" the state secretary asked. "What's wrong about having an Emperor?" the official objected. "There are kings and emperors in various states of Earth - in Arabia, in Belgium. The Emperor will be the symbol of the nation and the country will have a first minister and universal elections." "And Earth will be accused of forcing democracy on you, won't it?" the state secretary inquired. Shavash spread his hands. "It's unlikely," he said, "that Earth will be accused in forcing democracy on us in the current circumstances." Somebody snickered. "Also," the official added, "we have already silenced the most bellicose blabbermouths so that you won't get too upset." "You did it as preliminary measure before instituting democracy," General Al Saad noted. Shavash preferred to ignore the comment and continued, "We are not talking about Weia; we are talking about the Federation. Will it prefer to become internationally isolated and fall apart or to obtain a strategic stronghold and flourish? Take into account that in twenty years you will have to spend forty times more for a war against Gera than you would have to invest now into economics and infrastructure of the Federation's new state!" "We will think your proposal over," the state secretary said. X X X Bemish left the hall together with Fifth Fleet commander Al Saad. "What do you think about this?" Bemish inquired. "Do you know," the general answered, "this joke? A man is walking down a forest and an old woman points a blaster at him. "Weren't you going to rape me, dearie?" -"Absolutely not, granny!" - "You don't have a choice, dearie!" Bemish burst out in laughter. Five minutes later, tired and hungry Bemish ascended into a small triangular hall. The tables for the delegation stood there, filled with appetizers and dishes. The guards were everywhere and a dozen of journalists waiting for the negotiations to finish, hunted the solitary delegates. Having come in, Bemish discovered that the adroit journalists and attendants had already taken care of the food and only the most exotic dishes were left. Bemish made himself comfortable next to a dish of a sauteed dog and Al Saad, having hesitated for a moment, followed him. A wide TV screen stood in the right corner of the hall. It showed a Weian meeting next to the palace walls, first, and the Geran envoy's speech, second. The Geran thanked Kissur and the selfless Weians for uncovering the intrigues of Earth warmongers. He confirmed that Gera was ready to assist the exploited and mislead Weian people if the Federation dared to attack them. Then Shavash entered the hall accompanied by two or three attendants. Shavash probably didn't want to approach the Assalah director but he clearly wanted to eat. The only edible object left on the table was the sauteed dog that Bemish sat next to. Shavash came to the dog and started cutting it with a knife. Bemish pointedly turned away. The anchorman on the TV screen read the announcement of Geran president. The president promised assistance to Weians and everybody else. He suggested to everybody exploited by the Federation to unite in defense of the betrayed Weians and to join their ranks fighting "the corrupted democracy of the Federation." The TV set was not performing well. An indistinct web of blue and green lines pulsated on the screen. It was an indication that a powerful two channel trans communication unit was working somewhere nearby. The state secretary was probably speaking directly to the Federation president. Bemish stared fixedly at the green lines on the screen as if he could figure the conversation's content out of them. The palace servants came in, changed tablecloths and covered the tables with new dishes. However, Bemish was full. In about an hour, green and blue ripples disappeared and, almost immediately, envoy Severin entered the hall. Severin approached Shavash and asked him to walk upstairs. "The Federation president would like to talk to you," he said quietly, "on the transcom." Shavash walked upstairs; Bemish and the general followed him simultaneously. A number of people were present in the room upstairs - a dozen diplomats and the same number of technicians. Nobody stopped Bemish and the general when they entered the room following Shavash. A simple computer with a transcom unit connected directly to the parallel port stood on the table. Shavash leaned over the keyboard, somebody quickly pushed a button and president's Kerry face appeared in front of Shavash on the wide monitor screen. "Mr. Shavash?" the president said. "I am listening to you," the small official replied. "I discussed your proposal with the heads of the Federation states. We concluded that it would put the Federation in a difficult, almost critical financial situation. However, it is mutually profitable and honorable. The executive heads of the Federation will agree to your proposal on one condition." "What is it?" "Your personal actions, Mr. Shavash, are extraordinary, or more directly, monstrous. You obtained quite a scandalous reputation even on your own planet. It's possible that, thanks to your successful actions, the people will choose you as the head of the new Federation state. It will be very unpleasant for us to see you in the Assembly of the heads of the states. Our condition is the following - we will accept Weia into the Federation as long as you don't participate in the new elections. If you really care about your country's well-being, you will find it easy to agree to our condition." For a while, Shavash expressionlessly looked at the screen. Bemish suddenly recalled with malice how the small official had regretted a while ago that the Federation hadn't conquered Weia and he, Shavash, couldn't become the Federation Emperor's slave and worm his way into the Assembly of the heads of the states. "I agree," the first vice minister of finance finally said. X X X Half an hour later, Bemish sat in the garden with a laptop in his hands, deeply immersed in calculations. The year before last, the total volume of direct and portfolio investments into the Empire's economy was four billion dinars. The last year, thanks to Bemish's example, it was sixteen billion. Just before the elections, the investment flow increased a bit more and it dropped almost to zero afterwards. The total sum of allowances, benefits and investment credits for a new Federation member would be, accordingly to Bemish's calculations, six thousand four billion dinars - six trillion. Somebody approached and stood next to him. Bemish turned around and saw Nan and Shavash. "Why are you pouting, Terence," Shavash asked. "Can you imagine how much Assalah stocks will cost tomorrow?" "That's why I am upset," Bemish grinned. "You could at least give me a hint. Confess, how much have you made on this deal?" "I don't really know yet," the small official spoke. "I, however, have a gift for you, Mr. Bemish. During the crisis, I took it upon myself to buy Assalah bonds at the total sum of three hundred million dinars. On the average, I paid eight cent for a dinar. I would like to give you a half of them." Shavash paused. "Also, as you remember, I am authorized to invest Special Weian fund's money in whatever way I see fit. During the emergency, the fund was buying everything it could." Bemish raised his eyes at him, shocked. Of course, he immediately realized that for every stock that Shavash had bought for the fund, he had bought twenty for himself. Bemish realized that the foxy official managed the most astonishing insider deal in the stock market history - he had dropped the market's rating at the very bottom and had bought everything. He knew that after his ultimatum, Weia would obtain the federal exchange status and his investments would increase tenfold. Suddenly Bemish understood why Shavash agreed to the president's condition - not to participate in the elections - so easily. "Why did you instigate the whole thing?" Bemish asked. "Did you want to get 2000% profit in ten days? Were you trying to save your country or were you spinning an insider deal?" "Where is insider trading here?" Shavash was surprised. "I didn't know how your government would reply to my proposal." "And still, having reaped your profits, you refused to become the first minister of Weia." Here Shavash smiled slowly and victoriously. "There are a lot of people," he said, "who are worthier of this appointment than I am. At a certain point, Mr. Nan was dismissed from the first minister position under the pretext that he was a citizen of another country. They passed a law that made it impossible for foreigners to hold governmental appointments. Now, we are all citizens of the same state and the law is no longer valid. You have to agree, that it will be quite advantageous if an Earthman represents our country in the Assembly of the heads of the states." Bemish was completely shocked. "Shavash, everybody thought that you betrayed Nan." "Never follow the general opinion, Terence. If you had thought better about me, you would have been a billion or two richer today." Having said this, the small official bowed ceremoniously to the Earthman and walked down the path, back to the carved spires and onion shaped turrets of the main palace pavilions.