Carnifex

* * *

'Two weeks? Two fucking more weeks in this hole!' muttered Sevilla. 'Shit!'

'Never mind, Sergeant,' the signifer said. 'Just advise headquarters. Meanwhile, I'm going to take Somoza out tonight after the moon goes down and have a look around.'

'Bad, bad idea, sir.'

Interlude

United Earth Organization Resolution 5417 (proposed)

Resolution 5417 (2131)

Proposed before the Consensus on its 16728^th meeting,

On 13 June, 2131

The Consensus (formerly known as the 'Security Council'),

Maintaining the spirit implicit in the Noblemaire Principle for the remuneration and reward of its professional personnel,

Realizing that stability is no less important to peace, prosperity and freedom than is progress,

Recognizing that equality among persons is necessary to peace and progress,

Acknowledging the custom that has arisen of enfoeffment of certain offices and positions among the progressive class,

Reiterating in the strongest possible terms that progress is dependent upon the actions and authority of members of that class, supported by the peoples of Earth, as represented by this Consensus and the General Assembly,

Stressing that the Organization, and its affiliates and subsidiaries, must remain one 'open to talents,'

Welcoming the support for this measure given by such organizations as Amnesty, Interplanetary, Doctors Across Worlds, the Interplanetary Association for Progressive News Reporting, Food is a Human Right, Inc., various transnational corporations, the European Union, the Organization of African Unity, The Chinese Hegemony, etc.,

Expressing its delight at the trust and confidence shown by the peoples of Earth and by their progressive representatives,

Determining that the peoples of Earth cry out with one voice for a class to lead them into a bright future,

1) Confers upon its own officers honorary titles in accordance with the schedule at table one, attached,

2) Confers upon the chief officers of those organizations listed in table two, attached, similar honors as shown in that table,

3) Reiterates that such honors shall be open to whosoever shall arise to such positions, in perpetuity,

4) Directs that the title of 'Secretary General' shall be the highest such honor, and

5) Declares that such honors, that they may be open to the peoples of the Earth, shall be hereditary, also in perpetuity.

Chapter Twenty-one

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains

And the women come out to cut up what remains

—Kipling, The Young British Soldier

5/8/469 AC, UEPF Spirit of Peace

It was only partly the playmates the fleet could make available to her in essentially unlimited numbers , and without any wagging tongues, that had kept Lucretia Arbeit, Marchioness of Amnesty and Inspector General of the UEPF, from going back home to Earth. Far more important was that this was exciting, as nothing on Old Earth could be exciting anymore, while still being safe. Oh, yes, the continuous pressure of the barbarians from the reverted areas could be exciting, but that was decidedly unsafe. (And even the gladiatorial combats that the Duke of the International Solidarity Movement staged, for special occasions, grew dull after a while.)

Arbeit, after all, was a Domme, not a sub. And the barbs back home had some odd and unpleasant ceremonies they were said to engage in whenever they got a representative from the Consensus in their hands.

No, no, she thought, sitting on a couch in High Admiral Martin Robinson's quarters. Much better here. Much safer here.

The ship wherein Arbeit sat orbited peacefully, from below looking like nothing more than a silvery crescent in the shadow cast by Terra Nova and the local sun. Inside it was not so peaceful, however.

'You're not seriously going to give those maniacs nukes, are you, Martin?'

Wallenstein, the speaker, was agitated and plainly upset. She'd gone along so far for the possibility of jumping a step in caste among the elite of Old Earth. She'd been willing to overlook a lot—even to do quite a lot, frankly—to advance that worthy goal. Turning nuclear weapons over to religious fanatics was pushing the boundary of cooperation and aid. Even the months that had passed since Robinson first broached the idea had not made it a bit more comfortable or acceptable.

'I don't see what has you upset, Marguerite,' Robinson answered calmly, turning away from his computer monitor. 'We've shunted the Salafis money, arranged for arms and explosives, used our contacts and supporters down below to serve as hostages to get more Salafis freed and to shunt them even more money. Nukes are just a matter of scale and degree.'

'No they're not just a matter of scale or degree. Nukes kill whole cities! ' she practically screamed. 'Don't you realize the Feds down below will fucking nuke us to gas if one of their cities goes up in a mushroom cloud?'

That got Arbeit's attention.

Ignoring the sudden look of concern on Arbeit's face, Robinson shrugged. 'I considered that, of course, my dear. But these will be Volgan, Hangkuk, and Kashmiri, hence not traceable to us. So . . . what difference?'

'Millions of dead people,' she insisted. 'Millions! Doesn't that mean anything to you?'

'If you will the end, Marguerite, you will the means. Would you rather millions of dead barbarians and lowers here or millions of dead elites back on Earth?'

Now it was the High Admiral's turn to become heated. 'You've seen the projections yourself, Captain. In one hundred years the barbarians below will be beyond control. In one hundred years this fleet will have fallen apart around us. For the sake of the Holy Office of the Secretary General don't you realize why I had to buy local nukes? Ours can't even be relied on anymore. Like this damned ship, like this damned fleet. It's all coming apart and it isn't going to get any better. Ever! We break the independent nations down there to our ways or they come out and break us.'

'Just picture it, Marguerite: their soldiers marching through the Louvre, and our own proles pointing out the more valuable artworks for them. Our class reduced to servitude. Earth groaning once again under an unsustainable population and the proles put in charge.'

'But nukes?'

The Marchioness of Amnesty interrupted. 'Marguerite, it has to be nukes. Martin is right; Mustafa and the Salafis are losing, slowly but surely. I've seen enough to know that. They need to hit back. We need them to hit back to break the will of the Federated States and its allies. Once that is done the local World League can become a real government just like the UN did back home. Then the Columbians, the Anglians and even the stinking Balboans will slowly but surely be forced into the fold. With the World League running Terra Nova and ourselves running the World League their population can be cropped, their industry and scientific base can be crippled. Their foolish insistence on popular rule can be thwarted. Most importantly, they can be disarmed. It has to be nukes . . . the Salafi have no other hope . . . and we have no hope but them.'

'That's one possibility, Lucretia,' Robinson said. 'It's also possible, and for us much better, that the Salafis should dominate the planet.'

Arbeit shrugged. To her, it really didn't matter.

'When?' Wallenstein asked, weakly.

'A couple of weeks,' Robinson answered. 'The Salafis are making a place where we can shelter a shuttle for the delivery. Making it by hand, as a matter of fact, the yokels,' Robinson sneered. 'They'll all be better off once we're in charge. Only the Class Ones have the wisdom to