The Lotus Eaters

'You said three ways,' Hartmann reminded. There was also a fourth way, as both men knew. The Volgan—or gringo, as Hartmann thought—had the good taste not to mention it.

'It's up to you. But we can take you back and drop you off.'

'And the catch?'

'You've got to swear to me that you won't say who we are.'

'Be serious. I've got to say something.'

'Fine. Tell them we were men from outer space, Cajamarcans. Make something up.'

Hartmann felt his arm. He was pretty sure it was broken. He knew he wouldn't last out here very long. Shock and exposure would get him if nothing else. And Santander's Air Rescue Service was next to non-existent. 'I agree.'

The Volgan waved to the helicopter to throw a rope. This he tied under Hartmann's arms. The rescue crew pulled him up by main strength, the helicopter having no winch attached. The rope was returned. Then the helicopter turned east towards Santander before heading for home.

* * *

San Martin had focused on Hartmann's radio beacon as it activated. He had had no luck chasing down any of his sightings. They had all either lost themselves in the trees and hills, or had crossed over into Balboa before he could intercept. He picked up a radar contact, a helicopter that seemed to be hovering over the approximate location of Hartmann's beacon. San Martin was about to use his IFF, Identification Friend of Foe, when the helicopter turned east toward Santander. Oh, its one of ours. San Martin told himself that he would never again have a bad word to say about Santander's helicopter units. San Martin turned back toward Santa Fe.

Chapter Nineteen

Elites of today favor coddling the criminal class. The elites, then, will deny the common people arms necessary for self defense. This is easy for the new aristocracy; they live in gated communities, with armed guards, and as far from criminal elements as possible. They will also deny the commoners the social good resulting from the putting to death of the wicked. The elites don't suffer from this; their gated communities and their guards make them fairly immune to crime.

Are your public schools a ruin? Never mind; you and your children don't count. Jobs gone? Electrical service spotty? Public transportation unreliable? News full of lies? Not to worry; the elites are well taken care of, behind their walls. And fear not for your elite, neo-aristocratic rulers' children. Those children will attend good private schools even as the elites subject yours to a system that, imposed by foreigners, would be a crime against humanity, an act of war.

But then, the elites are foreigners; even if they—purely notionally—share your citizenship, they have renounced all of its meaning. And the people owe them nothing, not even their lives. They are at war with you. You should fight back.

Without mercy.

—Jorge y Marqueli Mendoza,

Historia y Filosofia Moral,

Legionary Press, Balboa,

Terra Nova, Copyright AC 468

Anno Condita 471 Executive Mansion, Hamilton, FD, Federated States of Columbia, Terra Nova

'Turn that shit off,' said the President, Karl Schumann. A flunky picked up the remote to turn off a television that seemed to have nothing on it but anti-gringo protests from Atzlan to la Plata.

The President, watched by his press secretary, the Secretary of State, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Attorney General and a few others, paced vigorously from wall to wall.

'General,' Schumann asked, 'are you absolutely certain we didn't do it? The President of Santander is positive that we did.'

JCS suppressed a highly amused smile, answering, 'Mr. President, we know exactly who did do it. The ACCS we have on patrol over the Santander coast recorded the whole thing as it happened, even though they didn't quite understand what was happening. The Balboans did it. I don't know all the details, but they did it. And they set it up to pin it on us.'

'But . . . why?'

'My guess,' answered the JCS, 'is that they didn't want to piss off the Santanderns because they've got all the enemies they need already. And, too, it isn't like we haven't been pressuring them to do something about the drug trade, or as if they don't have good reasons to keep drugs out of Balboa.'

'What's the ambassador down there say?' Schumann asked of State.

'Ambassador Wallis says the Balboans won't admit a thing to him. They refuse to discuss it. Which is screwy, because if it was them, then they know it couldn't have been us.'

'It wasn't us,' JCS reiterated.

The Secretary of State gave JCS a look which as much as said, So you say.

Schumann returned to his desk and sat down. 'In any event,' he said, 'Santander, the whole of Latin America, thinks we did do it. There were protests today in every capital. The Santanderns are showing helmets, our kind of helmets, all over the news. They claim we shot down one of their planes and shot up an airfield. Their President is threatening to shut down diplomatic relations and kick us completely out of the country.'