"Layabouts," David snorted. "Hanging around the campus and complaining they aren't allowed to mind other people's business in the civil service. Major, our government has only a few thousand employees and contracts most of its limited functions out—" He stopped his impulse to lecture with a visible effort. "The fact remains, that to fully equip the Field Force regiments we must expend hard currency, and that's hard to come by. We need more export earnings. If we have soldiers employed off-world and we collect their pay in Dayan shekels or Friedlander marks, that is one thing. If they have to stay
here
and fight . . ." He shrugged.
" 'Opulence must take second place to defense,' " Owensford recited; the Freedman king looked mildly surprised to hear a mercenary quoting Adam Smith.
You'd be surprised what Christian Johnny gets us to do,
Owensford thought.
His father
was a
history professor after all.
"You
have indigenous munitions manufacturing."
"Small arms and mortars, nemourlon under license from DuPont; weapons are one of our main processed exports, along with intermediate-technology equipment for planets even less industrialized than we are. We can make armored cars and tanks, but there won't be a lot of output. No electronics to speak of; we've been negotiating with Xanadu and Meiji for chip fabricators, but . . ." He shrugged again; everyone knew the prices were kept artificially high. "We have the people and the knowledge, energy and resources and opportunity, all the classic requirements, but we're at the tools-to-make-the-tools-to-make-the-machines stage.
"We need
time.
"
"Which is one commodity we can buy you," Owensford said. "Soldiers do a lot of that. Well, the bright side is that if you don't have much in the way of electronics, neither will the enemy. Jesus, I'd be grateful if you'd see to increased security on all the Regiment's equipment. Some of our advanced gear will be very much on the rebel want list."
"Yes, sir." Alana scrawled a note on his pocket computer.
"We are going to need air transport," Peter said. "You can't send aviation into a battle area, but it's very often the key to making battles happen where you want them, rather than where the enemy wants them. I'll ask you to do what you can to ramp up production of helicopters. They needn't be fancy."
"Ja," Baron von Alderheim said.
"And not just in the one firm," Peter said. "Aviation is too important to be a point failure source—uh, for there to be only one supplier."
"I see," von Alderheim said. "You wish me to help my competition?"
"I'm afraid that's exactly what I wish," Peter said. "Understand, we don't need to make everything ourselves, but it sure helps if we're self-sufficient in big ticket items."
"That makes a great deal of sense," the Minister of War said. "If Baron von Alderheim will agree—"
"Oh, I agree," von Alderheim said. "Civic duty and all that. Besides, if Major Owensford is successful, there will be plenty of orders for military equipment, and hard currency as well."
"That is certainly the goal," David I said.
"A goal the enemy may have made easier," Peter said.
"Ah?" Sir Alfred looked puzzled.
"One difficulty in expanding a military force is leadership," Peter said. "Many of our first wave of recruits will have to rather quickly become noncoms and junior officers for the second group. Combat experience, even in a low-intensity war like this, will help a lot."
"I doubt Eleanor Velysen thought it was low intensity," Roland Dawson said.
"No sir, of course not," Peter said. "I don't mean to be flippant." He shrugged. "But that's still what we have here. A training war."
"So far," Desjardins said. "But it has been escalating."
Peter nodded. "Right, but we'll soon be set to deal with that, I think. Now, we're all right on technology. It's not as if we had to worry about off-planet forces with high-tech gear. Eventually we'll want troops capable of taking on a Line Marine regiment, but fortunately we don't have to ask that of them just yet." He looked at the map display. "Lot of water here. I presume we can shut down rebel water traffic."
"Lots of boats out there," Desjardins said. "Fishing, cargo hauling, even some yachts."
"They aren't likely to be smugglers. Nothing worth smuggling, is there? So surely all boat owners are loyalists."
"Or say they are," Desjardins muttered.
"You have reason for suspicion?" Barton asked.
"Fear, sir," Desjardins said. "Terrorism can be an effective recruiting device. Especially when all you're asked to do is look the other way."
"That much we can handle. We won't be recruiting any traitors. Security is Captain Catherine Alana's department and she's good at it."
Catherine smiled acknowledgment of the compliment and said, "General Desjardins, I strongly suggest an armed Coast Guard Auxiliary river and sea. Give it responsibility for seeing that water traffic is ours or neutral."
"It might work," Desjardins said.
"Have them do random sweeps in strength," Ace Barton commented. "And be sure they have good communications, both with the RSMP and the Fifth." He grinned mirthlessly. "It's not likely, but the rebels may be stupid enough to concentrate their forces."
"Precisely," Peter Owensford said. "I doubt General Desjardins is worried about defeating the rebels in battle—"
"Well, there are a fair number of them," Desjardins said. "And the RSMP isn't trained for set piece battles. But no, we're not worried, especially now that you lot are here. It's finding them that's the real problem. Captain Alana, I'll be very happy to work with you in setting up the Coast Guard."
"And I," Baron von Alderheim said. "The fishing village on my estate can furnish the nucleus. They are all armed, they will only need instructions."
"Close off water transport and we'll have a good part of the problem licked," Owensford said. He turned to King Alexander. "Sir, you do understand, we will need some kind of registration system. A way to identify legitimate boats—"
"We have that now," Prince David said. "We believe in freedom, Major, but with freedom come responsibilities." He shook his head. "I presume you want authority for your Coast Guard to intercept vessels and search them at random."
"Yes, sir."
"That won't be popular," David said. "But I believe we can get the Council and Senate to agree. As a temporary measure, of course. I suggest one year, with full debate required before renewal of the law. Alexander?"
"I'll agree to that."
"Thank you. I'll have it drafted," David said. "Major, you said you could assure the loyalty of the Coast Guard Auxiliary. I'd like to know how."
"Ah—we have equipment—"
"Lie detectors?" Alexander asked. There was an edge to his voice.
"Something like that, sir," Prince Lysander said. "They're—" He looked to Peter Owensford. "Perhaps I'd better not say? It's non-intrusive. Nothing anyone can object to."
"Hah." Baron von Alderheim looked thoughtful.
"Sir," Peter said. "I presume everyone here has taken some kind of oath of office? With criminal penalties?"
"Yes, yes, of course, everyone here is sworn to the Privy Council," David said.
"Fine," Peter said. "Then we can begin here. And we may as well start now."
"Start what?" Elayne Rusher asked.
She was a woman of indeterminate age. Peter guessed fifty, but he would have believed anything between forty and sixty. She was attractive but not especially pretty, and gave Peter a feeling of confidence.
Like having a competent big sister.
"Loyalty testing, Madame Attorney General."
She frowned. "How do you propose to do that?"
Peter shrugged. "It's simple enough. What part of Sparta do you come from, madam?"
"I have always lived in the City," Rusher said. "And how will knowing that help?"
"You'd be surprised at what helps, madam," Peter said. "Do you know any rebels?"
"Dion."
"Of course, and his supporters. Who else?"
"No one else—"
Peter looked to Captain Alana. "Catherine?"
Captain Alana had been staring at her oversized wristwatch. "Loyal, but defending someone. She suspects someone. I'd guess a close relative, but perhaps a friend of a relative."
"Why—What in the world makes you think that?"
Catherine smiled. "A good guess, but it's true, isn't it?"
Rusher sighed. "Close enough. My daughter Jennifer is seeing a young man from the University. There's something about him—but it's nothing I could justify investigating. How have you found out all this? You've hardly had time—"
"You just told them," General Desjardins said. "Voice stress analyzers. I've heard about them, but I didn't think anyone but CoDominium Intelligence had them."
"That's what everyone thinks," Peter said. "And we want them to go on thinking it. Mr. Plummer, do you know any rebels?"
"Of course not. Other than Citizen Croser." He smiled thinly. "I take it I'm being tested now? Should I be concerned?"
Just relax, sir," Catherine said. "Would you mind telling me your mother's maiden name?"
"All clear," Catherine Alana said. "See, that wasn't so bad."
"I can't say I like the implications," Henry Yamaga said. "As if you suspect us—"
"Sir," Peter began.
"Let me, sir," Ace Barton said. "With all due respect, my lords and ladies, this is a war of information. Determining who is and is not trustworthy is most of the battle. If your rancher—"
"Velysen," Desjardins said.
"If Mr. Velysen had known who among his guards were traitors, he'd be alive, and so would his women. Frankly, I'd think speaking a few sentences into a computer would be a small price to pay for peace of mind. While we're at it—Madame Rusher, I'm sure we'll all feel much better if Catherine were invited to dinner the next time your daughter brings her odd friend home."
"It's a bit distasteful," Rusher said. She paused a moment. "But yes, thank you. Captain, could you and your husband join us for dinner the day after tomorrow?"
"I'd be delighted," Catherine said.
"So. One less thing to worry about," Peter said. "Now, I presume that you were planning on recruiting mostly transportees for the Field Force?"
The civilians looked at each other, embarrassed; it was a little like what BuReloc did to troublemakers on Earth, with the added refinement that Sparta intended to use them as cannon fodder and make a profit on them to boot.
Alexander sighed. "Our Citizens are mostly native-born now, family people, and we have an open land frontier for restless youngsters. The people BuReloc dumps on us are mostly single adults, six-tenths men," he said.
"And many of them come from four, five, six generations who haven't worked, haven't got the
concept
of work anywhere in their mental universe. We tell them to work or starve, and it
takes
starvation to make them work—or military discipline, we presume. Some younger Citizens will be volunteering as well; we'll pass the word through the Brotherhoods, and Prince Lysander's exploits on Tanith have made the Legion pretty glamorous on the video." He looked with fond pride at his son; Lysander had been brooding at the gruesome pictures from the Velysen ranch, but he blushed slightly at his father's words.
Owensford nodded. "It's infiltrators
I'm
worried about," he said frankly, glancing over at the Alanas. They nodded. "One thing has to be understood," Owensford said. "A legionnaire has no
civil
rights."
Freedman raised an eyebrow. "And what does that mean, Major?"
"Literally what I said, Sire. Your Citizens, your non-citizens, your civilians have various civil rights which we'll do what we can to get our troops to respect; but once they've signed up as soldiers, we expect their loyalty, and that loyalty includes cooperating with our investigators to determine that they
are
loyal."