Parilla cocked his head, raised one eyebrow, and cast his gaze over the throng until they quieted. Even after they had, he waited until Carrera had taken a seat before he began to speak.
'What I'm going to say is as much political as military, or arguably more so. My friend, Patricio, spoke of three tiers that will compose the Legion. Arguably there will be seven . . . I mean six.'
'Besides the regulars, reservists, and militia, there are also those who could have come to the colors but did not. Some of those can be expected to volunteer when the abstract threat of war changes to actual or imminent war. After those are people who may never spend a day in uniform but who can still be put to work as civilians, digging trenches if they've no other skill.
'Lastly are groups like the Police, the Young Scouts, firefighters; all of whom have some training, a chain of command, and a sense of civic duty, and all of whom can supplement the rest in critical ways.'
'Between them, these can produce the force
'All that said, Balboa itself is split, and not just by the former government cowering in its enclave in Old Balboa City and the Taurans who bestraddle the Transitway. Even though the Legion has adopted Balboa—no surprise since you're eighty-three percent Balboan—and my government has adopted the Legion—also no surprise since you're all that stands between us and the stinking Taurans—we still exist in two separate worlds. The only junction between those worlds are myself, and the few members of the Legislative Assembly who have served in the Legion. And even that junction is emotional rather than legal.'
Parilla reached a hand toward his lower lip and tapped it contemplatively with his fingers. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say,
'No sense in dilly-dallying; we're bringing the Legion into the government as a second legislative body, which we shall call the 'Senate.' The Senate will be co-equal with the current assembly and will have complete power over the Legion and its assets. Initially, since I am a veteran of the Legion, I will serve as president of the Senate or— what was that you wanted to call the office, Patricio?
* * *
Seated in the front, Carrera thought,
Chapter Four
Both Heaven and Hell are absolute dictatorships; the only difference is the being in charge. A similar rule applies to human government. A democratic government over a society composed of decent, law abiding, civic- minded and civically virtuous people can bring prosperity, security, all the good things in life. Conversely, a democratic government in a society gone rotten, or one where only family and blood count, or where it is every man for himself, can create a Hell on Earth. A monarchy may be decent and stable, as Anglia's was for many centuries, or it can be the nightmare of work-to-death camps in Volga under the Red Tsars. Indeed, people may be freest of all under a monarchy like Anglia's or they may be utter slaves to the whims of Volga's autocrats. An aristocracy may rule well, and provide great benefit to everyone, aristocrat and common, alike. Equally, it may be a corrupt oligarchy that loots the society for its own benefit. The questions then, always, and for every possible form of government, are: 'What is the quality of those in charge and how can we select them for virtue and maintain them in virtue?'
—Jorge y Marqueli Mendoza,
Legionary Press, Balboa,
Terra Nova, Copyright AC 468
Anno Condita 470 Main Parade Field, Legates' Row, Isla Real, Balboa, Terra Nova
The plane was a high winged monoplane with a great deal of glass to it. Called a 'Cricket,' it performed, more cheaply, a number of tasks within the Legion that most armies used helicopters for. The scout/command and control plane's engine droned loudly as it made a steep descent to the parade field fronting Quarters One. Looking down, Carrera shook his head, ruefully. He put his mouth to Lourdes' ear and said, 'I'm getting old.'
'How's that, Patricio?' the woman asked.
In answer, he grimaced and put his right index finger near the window, jabbing it downward three times. Lourdes looked out and saw a sea of humanity, partially pixel-clad and in at least equal measure in civilian, dry season white, packing the parade field. The troops and their families had thoughtfully left a rectangular open area, just slightly larger than required to land a Cricket. She looked and smiled, pleased that the people still loved her husband as she did.
'So much for coming here unannounced,' Carrera said.
'But how . . . I mean, you told hardly anyone. We didn't even bring any