Chapter 7

Roger and the senior Duruttis drew their horses to a halt and dismounted. Roger stood for a while surveying the scene before him. In Novgorod's pastures were hundreds of horses and, lining the stockades, hundreds of black clad Bakhunin warriors were casting critical eyes over the bloodstock. Beyond, thousands of stretch tents cluttered the riverbanks with gear, saddles, bridles scattered about in some sort of order. In the north plain, behind the Fladomirova's 'palace' - that the Bakhunin's optimistically called 'the steppe' - a dozen of the much vaunted Ark 'tank', the Kegresse, were parked as if on parade. There were batteries of towed artillery, anti-armour rockets, or 'APMs' and carts and lorries ready to accept the tonnes of supplies for the army.

The day was seasonally bright and the hot day had driven some into a row of marquees erected in front of the 'palace.' There, trestles laden with food and homebrew were being picked over by hungry warriors.

"Roger?" a big, greying man in allsuit, with his thinning long silver locks tied back in a pony tail, emerged from the 'palace' and approached. "A pleasure," he said. "You do not make the journey from Bluefields often enough. Please, you and your warriors must rest and refresh yourselves. I regret, our hospitality is not up to Bluefields standards, but we're a modest band, as you see."

"Modest, Goran?" Roger smiled. "You have victualed with the usual finesse, I see. The Bakhunins are nothing if not the best organizers of a campaign on the planet. Your prompt response to our appeal brings honor to the Durruttis."

"The honor is ours, Roger. Come, Suetonius is here and we've much to discuss. Grab some food and a tankard and join us."

Roger ducked under the low doorway and followed Goran through the rabbit warren the Bakhunin's built in honor of their 'Tsar' or 'Fladomir.' In the meeting room, a cluster of Arks sat around a table with maps and dispatches spread before them.

"Ah!" a lanky man stood with dark, penetrating eyes, wearing the black/red scarf of the Black Guard.

"Suetonius. Thank you for coming," Roger took his hand in a firm grip.

"What of Gina, and Rada?" he asked, concerned. "We have only a sketch of what happened. Can you put us in the picture?"

"At this moment, they are being taken to Bluefields - to our Matthew Kohn - aboard the Varyag. Sian docked with it early this afternoon. De la Perierre is a battlefield medic - part of his Inkubis 'skill set', I expect - and has rendered first aid."

"Our Fladimirova stood her post," Goran declared. "And her mother. They have brought honor to the Bakhunins as well as the Black Guard. It was well for Sian's timely arrival, was it not?"

"Aye," Roger agreed. "The Varyag heard John's radio message - very faint - and relayed it to both Sian and Rasida. They both responded immediately as did Elrod aboard the other floeg. Your man, Rasputin, is very handy with his shoulder-launched missiles, is he not, Goran?"

"Ah, yes," he grinned. "And, like every Bakhunin, he doesn't take kindly to his Fladomirova being harmed in any way."

"As do we all!" agreed Suetonius. "How serious are their wounds?"

"Gina took the worst of it," Roger sighed. "She has multiple shrapnel wounds and lost a lot of blood. Rada was concussed with moderate blast injuries. Unbeknown to them all at the time, Kroon has a deep gash to his thigh and passed out aboard the floeg. It wasn't noticed and he never complained. He probably saved them all by shooting up a steamer that was clearly about to finish them all off."

"Extraordinary courage!" declared Suetonius. "And with only the most basic of instruction in artillery. Remarkable!"

"True. I have withdrawn them all from the battle, save for Rasida and Schecter. They will return to Good Hope after they've taken John and this fishing skipper to Bluefields. John has done enough for the present. I hope you endorse that order, Suetonius. He is, of course, one of your 'Firsts'."

"With Rada wounded, I expect little more from him at present. Now, with their little operation, they have disabled 2 thirds of this Company's steamboat fleet. Their assets are all on Cityplex's public record as a listed company. Their supply line is at a standstill. Your fellow, Rasputin, also took out a railway bridge on his way back to Good Hope, Goran. Apparently, he doesn't like taking any ordinance home," he smiled.

"No," he laughed. "A matter of honor, I believe."

"Anyway, the Company's coal is all piled up at their mines and their barges anchored up inlets and so on. Our intelligence is they have ceased production through lack of storage."

"Any closer to discovering where they're holding George? Is he still alive?" Roger asked.

"They want to negotiate," Suetonius managed a wry grin. "We received these earlier this morning. A pro forma protest from the Board of Cityplex demanding we demobilize and cease attacks and incursions across the Floral Line. They threaten 'such remedial measures as are appropriate when confronting hostile acts of aggression'."

"'Hostile acts of aggression'?" Roger raised his eyebrows. "There is a non-hostile form of aggression?"

"Typical bluster, Cityplex double-speak and bad grammar," Suetonius shrugged. "In turn, we have replied, demanding they cease all commercial or Board operations in Ark Preserve and release all Ark citizens in their captivity whether seized according to their laws or not. I also reminded them of international treaties banning the use of unpaid or prison labour in commercial enterprises. I also enquired whether homelessness was now a crime under Cityplex criminal code punishable by sentences of hard labour of indeterminable length."

"Let me guess?" Roger rubbed his chin. "They told you to mind your own business?"

"Of course," Suetonius replied. "Couched in the usual diplomatic bullshit, of course. I received this from the Company," he continued. "Predictably, they offer to return George in exchange for our ceasing assaults on their staff and vandalism against their property. They also demanded compensation to be determined by the Cityplex Civil Court."

"And you replied?" Roger asked.

"'Fuck off'. I was growing tired of the conversation."

"Appropriate!" Roger grinned. "So, what's our campaign plan?"

"Full scale conventional operations against the Guardian Force is probably out of the question," Suetonius told them. "They are too strong, too well equipped, and too mobile. I suggest a few limited probes to unsettle them and maybe some infiltration spearheaded by Istvan's Cityplex Arks."

"We could get down into the service tunnels under Cityplex," Roger suggested. "Sabotage their transportation network?"

"That's a promising idea?" Suetonius said. "We should assemble teams. Meanwhile, I suggest we play a waiting game. Roger, you should continue your efforts to locate these mines and destroy them. We can't let the pressure up on the Company."

"As we speak, Rasida and Schecter are continuing search sweeps down the island chain. The Varyag will continue to resupply and reinforce the Good Hope. We shall need more floegs and pilots. Schecter is rigging rocket pods to them and intends to use them to attack these coal depots and the railway. Additionally, we should acquire some sort of fleet of vessels, although we haven't any crews to sail them. I'm thinking ahead to the future - to our future security in the Gulf."

"Yes," Suetonius considered. "Perhaps this skipper could give some lessons in sailing? The Nins, perhaps, might have some ideas about boat construction? Meanwhile, we've heard in the past hour the Guardians are sending an 'immediate response brigade' down to Havana. Apparently, they intend to impose martial law."

"An interesting development," Roger considered, scratching his chin. "Havana is a Company town - a supply base for their vessels and a drinking hole for their crews. It seems the place was run by a town council picked by the Company itself. Are the Guardians there to support Company power or to replace them? Perhaps the Board has acknowledged this Company is operating outside their laws and is bringing order? What do we know of the Company's directors, Suetonius? Do they, as we thought, reach up to the very top of Cityplex's hierarchy?"

"Not sure," Suetonius replied. "The public records are filled with obfuscation and shell investment companies. It's difficult to discover just who holds the real power. A company called 'Stillwater Investments' hold the majority of the shares. That, in turn, is run by a fellow called Charles Kingston, of whom we know nothing."

"You think this Kingston has the controlling interest?" asked Roger.

"Who, knows? It could be a pseudonym. Nothing about this Company is simple. They're like a pit of snakes - all wriggling and squirming and you can't tell the rattler from the grass snake. There's about 17 million Kingstons in Cityplex of whom very few appear to be prominent businesspeople. There's a Lieutenant General Kingston based in their Western Defense Area, but he doesn't appear to have any particular influence over Board politics. We're looking at technocrats and functionaries who have access to Board programming. Bank records would be illuminating but, we've no access to them unless some Cityplex Board whistleblower slips us some handy logins."

"That's possible. There'll be many Cityplex people who'd be unhappy if this sorry tale is told to them."

"True," Suetonius agreed. "We think we may have found out a little about your Jeremy Kroonstadt. There was an item in the news records dating 10 years ago of an accident at a steel mill. Among the deaths was a Daniel Kroonstadt - a director of the company. There was an explosion and fire."