The Lotus Eaters

'Oh, the demand will skyrocket,' the rump president agreed. 'The problem is that that demand will be filled, if at all, by stockpiles already south of us, in Atzlan, the FSC and the Tauran Union. We'll get none of it and as soon as we and our friends on this end replace our stocks—and that's going to take months, the price will drop. Like a lead brick. No, nephew, this is disastrous.'

The nephew sighed. He found himself doing that a lot lately, when in discussion with his uncle. 'Maybe it's time to pull up stakes and leave, Uncle, to sell what we can and get out. Maybe we could sell our interest to Parilla, give him this corner of the republic. Surely he'd prefer a nice clean monetary arrangement to a war.'

Rocaberti, senior, shook his head, dismally. 'We're not the ones he's facing; the Taurans are. We could leave and he's still got a fight on his hands with them. It doesn't change Parilla's position in the slightest. So why should he pay? On the other hand, we can stay and, if he loses to the Taurans, we get our old position back.'

'I spoke to some of the Taurans on Janier's staff,' Endara-Rocaberti said. 'You know, in relation to the little project you set me to? They're worried, badly worried.'

'You didn't tell them about our plans for Parilla and Carrera, did you?' the rump president asked.

'Oh, no,' Endara assured his uncle. 'I just wanted to see what the general air was about their headquarters and ask maybe about being put in touch with one or another of their private military groups.'

'I thought,' the uncle said, 'that you were going to the Santanderns for help.'

'I did. I am. But they tell me they don't really have the system in place or the skills for this kind of thing. Set a bomb off in a crowded market? Sure. Kidnap an unguarded journalist or judge? Easy. But both Carrera and Parilla are hard targets. I thought that maybe a private contractor from the Tauran Union, coupled with some muscle from Santander, might be just the ticket.'

'And?'

'And,' the nephew continued, 'I've got two . . . mmm . . . two specialists from a Gallic firm—one of them is actually a gringo—flying to Santander next week to link up with the Belalcazar cartel. Five or six weeks after that they'll be ready. Then we bring them into the country. I've made arrangements for that, for a place for them to stay hidden while we await an opportunity. I have my own sources to identify when such an opportunity may arise.'

The ex-president nodded, gratified. 'You have done well, nephew.'

Endara-Rocaberti rocked his head from side to side, signifying a mix of agreement and disagreement. 'I've done well enough in preparing something we probably shouldn't do, uncle. Before I give the final word to proceed, I wish you would think very seriously about the risks of what we've embarked on. And wait for Pigna and his Seventh Legion to be at Fort Cameron.'

'No.'

Building 59, Fort Muddville, Balboa Transitway Area

'What do you mean we should 'de-escalate'?' Janier asked of his intelligence operator, Villepin. For a change, Janier was wearing Gallic battledress rather than his blue velvet atrocity.

'I mean, mon general, that the Balboans are raising and equipping forces at a rate that is rapidly making them unassailable by us here. Already I am not convinced we can win. In a year? I think we cannot win. In two years? I shudder. Moreover, there is a chance, a good chance, that the disaffected legion commander I told you about may well solve our problems for us if we'll just be patient, as he is being patient.'

Villepin continued, 'Fact: they've recently purchased something on the order of six hundred jet fighters. At least that's all we know about. Are those fighters obsolete? Yes. But they're still six hundred. Worse, they're being upgraded, perhaps substantially. Fact: they've reorganized into a four— maybe five—corps force of what may be eleven divisions, or perhaps twelve, and a number of independent regiments. Are those corps and divisions full strength? No. But they will be. Fact, and this is in many ways the most disturbing thing of all: they are building fortifications as if they believe they can defeat any initial attack here and would then have to face a larger attack later. Clearly they think they can defeat that first attack or they wouldn't waste the money and effort they've committed to digging in.'

'They're living in a dream world,' Janier countered. 'Along with your 'facts,' have you not noticed they are mere militia, peasant rabble, at best?'

'An arguable point, 'at best,' mon general. The cadre for that peasant rabble are all long service regulars, with a decent, even enviable, combat record. And that cadre recently took some of that peasant rabble into the deepest darkest jungle in the world and routed out some thousands of the guerillas that infested it. Quickly, too.'

'I know all this,' Janier said. 'This is why our plan is to take out that cadre first, leaving the rabble leaderless. What flaw do you see in that?'

'Assuming we have to, if Pigna fails us, none, in principle,' de Villepin conceded. 'Which does not mean that there is not a flaw, or that the Balboans will accommodate us. Or that that task does not become more complex with each passing year.

'There is something that troubles me, though,' de Villepin said, 'something that goes to core principles. I think you are basing your estimate of what will happen if we can take out the leadership on what would happen in the Tauran Union.'

'Accurate enough,' Janier agreed.

'Well . . . back home, the bureaucrats who rule us have spent decades indoctrinating the young to obedience, accommodation, and faith in the group, in the consensus, and in following customs and mores, rather than in the prowess of the individual.'

'Which gives us the obedient cannon fodder on which out military strength rests,' Janier said.

'Just as a thought,' de Villepin mused, 'what would it mean if the young of this place are educated to place primacy on individual initiative?'

'Then they'll have build a castle on a foundation of sand,' Janier said.