The Lotus Eaters

Lourdes' voice continued, but her face was replaced with a series of shots of newly built schools, clinics treating children, and factories full of busy, smiling, often sweating, workers.

From outside the studio came the sounds of more heavy gunfire as the Presidentially ordered 'investigation' reached the Volgans' perimeter. On screen, before a nation, Lourdes visibly shuddered, but continued even so 'They accuse my husband and General Parilla of running drugs. I know, and you know, that could not be the case. Yes, they take money from the Santanderns, a lot of money, all of which they use for your good. But the operative word is take. They give us money because they're afraid of Presidente Parilla and my husband. No one in the world has fought harder against the drug lords than has Patricio Carrera. Listen to the words of this foreign born officer. Foreign born he may be, but he is Balboan by blood given if not by blood received.' The Camera panned to show Menshikov sitting next to Lourdes.

Still speaking, she asked 'Tribune Menshikov, would you please tell the people where you were and what you were doing on the first night you were in battle with Duque Carrera?'

'Why, we were in Santander, Mrs. Carrera,' Menshikov said, 'fighting to put an end to the terror the Santandern drug chiefs had inflicted on Balboa . . .'

* * *

As Lourdes and then Menshikov spoke, all over the city units of the Seventh Legion began turning themselves, and command of themselves, over to local forces, even as those local forces grew with reservists and militiamen showing up armed and accoutered for battle. Before noon, the first elements of Third Legion were crossing the demarcation line that had separated out Rocaberti's Old City from the rest of Balboa, killing all who resisted and stood in their path.

Building 59, Fort Muddville, Balboa Transitway Area

Janier's face was ashen, in stark contrast to the blue and gold of his unofficial dress uniform. 'What went wrong?' he asked, of nobody in particular.

'Two things,' de Villepin said, his voice low with worry, 'Munoz and the woman. We might have succeeded if either of those had gone right, the woman kept incommunicado and the Castilian kidnapped and killed, with the other side being blamed for it. As is . . .'

'Can we extract the two companies of commandos at the Gatun River?' Janier asked.

De Villepin shook his head in negation. 'When he wants to move fast, Munoz plainly can. The commandos are trapped and the pickup zones we could have used for helicopter extraction under heavy mortar fire. And, after we tried to have him kidnapped, I doubt he'll be in a reasonable mood.'

'Don't you have a contact there?' the general asked.

'The Castilian shot him.'

'Merde! What about the Twentieth Mechanized?'

'They're clear for now,' de Villepin said. 'I can't for say how long that will be the case. The Balboans are swarming like ants. I think we should pull them back while we can.'

'Any sign the Balboans are crossing into the Transitway Area?'

De Villepin shook his head again. 'Not 'crossing,' no. But . . .'

'Go on.'

'Their Tenth Artillery Legion, which, as near as we can tell has something approaching two hundred guns, heavy mortars, and rocket launchers, is taking up positions from which they can level this post.'

'Why haven't they opened fire, do you think?' Janier asked.

De Villepin laughed. 'Because their commander hasn't given them the word to. And is still alive, so far as they know. If he were dead, or gave the word . . .'

Officer's Mess, Santiago Air Force Base, Santiago Santander, 16 January, 0920 hrs

Lieutenant San Martin looked at Captain Hartmann incredulously. 'You were giving us the straight word? I don't believe it. I can't believe it.'

Hartmann, San Martin, and most of the pilots of their squadron were listening raptly to the Global News Network's rebroadcast of Lourdes' speech. When Menshikov began to speak, however, all eyes turned to Hartmann. He tried to, but couldn't, look smug. That bastard, thought Hartmann. He was Balboan all along. Working for them, anyway. And he convinced me to lie, by telling the truth . . . by lying.

Everyone present thought Hartmann's laugh was in self congratulation. He didn't try to disabuse them of the notion.

Hamilton, FD, Federated States, Terra Nova

Karl Schumann, the President of the Federated States, was livid. Those miserable fucking spics, he thought initially, then with more immediate practicality, How do I squirm out of this one?

By the time the first reporter was put through to the White House, the President of the United States had his answer. 'Well, Dan, you see it was like this. We and the Balboans both had good cause to hit the drug lords. But they just weren't able to stand up to Santander if the Santanderns retaliated. So they did the job, with our tacit support. And we took the 'blame' because Santander can't hope to hurt us.'

A more objective reporter might have pointed out that 'tacit support' really means no active opposition, even if one didn't oppose because one didn't know. However, with an election year coming up, few, if any, of the press