Upon receipt, all Regional Directors are to immediately increase reeducation assignments at a rate of 100%. Facilities have been instructed to increase the schedule of inmate liquidations by a comparable factor to create space for new inductees. Arrests are to be allocated as follows: 65% to previously identified targets under surveillance, 35% to strategically targeted sweeps. All Directors are authorized to utilize the 35% allotment on a discretionary basis to discourage overall dissent in their areas. No suspicion of guilt is required for arrest. – Anton Samovich, Secretary of Internal Security.
“We have an advance guard of the Black Corps on Juno as we speak. The rest of the force has departed Earth and is currently en route. We should be nearly at full strength in less than a week.” Samovich sat back in a plush leather chair at the edge of Raul Esteban’s bedside. The Secretary-General was propped up on a pile of white silk pillows, several IV lines connecting his left arm to a series of machines along the wall.
“Well done, Anton.” It was clearly painful for Esteban to speak. His words came slowly, and he swallowed hard after every few. “Perhaps we will finally rid ourselves of Colonel Taylor and his troublesome followers.” The Secretary-General closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the pillows.
“Would you like to reschedule, sir? Perhaps you need some rest now.” Samovich looked over at the effective dictator of the entire world, the shriveled remnant of a once powerful and energetic man. The top of Esteban’s shaved head was wrapped in a fresh white bandage. It was obvious he’d had another surgery, one more attempt to hold off the ravaging cancer that was destroying his brain and spreading throughout his dying body.
“No, Anton.” Esteban’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “I am fine. As fine as I am likely to be, at least. Please continue.”
Samovich took a breath. I need to keep his true condition from getting out, he thought, grimly. If Li and his allies knew Esteban was this weak, they might make a move to seize the Secretary-General’s seat. Samovich had considered his own coup, but that was risky, and he knew the top position would be his for the taking once his enhanced soldiers destroyed Taylor and his rebels. However, if his enemies struck while he was pre-occupied with the war on Juno, they might just succeed. He was well aware the only thing holding them back was fear of Esteban and his lingering hold on power. If they saw how weak and close to death the Secretary-General was, there would be no stopping them.
“Secretary Keita is on his way to Juno to assume an overall command position.” Samovich paused. “I felt we should have someone of the highest echelon on the planet.” And I can’t go myself, he thought, and leave that snake Li here unsupervised.
“He certainly has the incentive.” Esteban’s voice was a gravelly whisper. “Success will wipe away all his sins.” A short pause. “And defeat will just as surely…” He let his voice tail off. Both men knew what failure meant for Keita…and probably for Samovich too.
They were both silent for a few seconds before Samovich continued his report. “I have also ordered increased crackdowns on the civilian population. We’ve had some minor problems with the families of the men lost in the final battle on Erastus. Nothing serious yet, but I don’t want to take a chance on things getting out of control. I’ve ordered all immediate relatives of soldiers lost on the Erastus expedition sent to reeducation facilities.” He paused, uncertain how Esteban would react. His action had been an aggressive and brutal one. It would send several hundred thousand people, most of them innocent of any offense, to their deaths in the camps.
The Secretary-General nodded slowly. “I concur. It is best to get ahead of this. We do not need problems from the civilian population. Certainly not until the Taylor situation has been resolved.”
“I have also ordered targeted arrests among the population. I believe we are still at the level where we can control things with a moderate reminder of what is and is not acceptable behavior. We will be at escalated conscription rates for the foreseeable future, and we’ve seen some scattered civil disobedience as a result. A little extra fear might work wonders in getting people to accept the needed draft levels.”
“You are handling things well, Anton. I approve of all your actions.” Esteban took a deep, labored breath. He was clearly near the end of his stamina. “I believe, unless you have another topic, that is enough for today, but please return tomorrow with an update.”
“Yes, Secretary-General.” Samovich rose slowly from the chair, his eyes focused intently on the shriveled form on the bed. “I will be back tomorrow at the same time.” He didn’t get any response. Esteban had already fallen into a raspy, unsettled sleep.
“Ah…Alexi, come in.” Samovich nodded, and the black-uniformed sentry at the door stepped aside, allowing a tall thin man to enter.
“Some added security, I see.” Alexi Drogov was wearing a dark gray suit, exquisitely tailored and exorbitantly expensive. He walked toward the desk and, at a motion from Samovich, he pulled back one of the guest chairs and sat down gracefully.
“That will be all, Lieutenant.” Samovich watched as the guard stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He turned toward the new arrival. “Yes, Alexi, I’ve become more concerned about Chang Li. He knows what is at stake on Juno as well as I do. I’ve tripled security on everything to do with the Black Corps and the combat operations, but I also figured the bastard just might skip all that and try to take me out.”
Drogov nodded. The assassination of a Secretary would be a bold move, but he agreed that Samovich couldn’t ignore the possibility. “Good thought, A, but what if they just bribe one of your new guards out there?” His tone said the comment was a joke, but Samovich knew there was a serious question there too. Drogov and Samovich had been friends since their days as two homeless teenagers living on the streets of Petersburg. Drogov had been calling his friend A as long as either could remember. He was the only person in the world who dared to be so informal with the feared Secretary of Internal Security.
“These aren’t normal guards. I’m paying them a lot.” Samovich grabbed a decanter and two glasses from the corner of his desk. “More than a lot. And I’ve got their families housed in a nice resort complex in the Caribbean. They’re having a wonderful time, but if anything happens to me, they all get roasted by a bunch of FAEs.” He filled the two glasses halfway and handed one to Drogov. “There’s a completely different crew at those controls…and I’m paying them even more.”
“You always were a fiendishly paranoid fuck.” It was clear Drogov meant the remark as a compliment. “So I assume you called me for more than a chat about your enhanced security.” He reached out and took the glass Samovich offered. “So what do you need, old friend?”
Samovich leaned back and took a sip from his glass. “Try the Cognac. It’s a very rare bottle.” He gazed across the table at Drogov. Samovich had thousands of subordinates and political allies, but only one true friend, one man he really trusted. He knew he owed his position to Drogov, and he was confident his oldest companion would never betray him. Fifty years of friendship was a powerful bond, but it was more than that. Samovich knew his friend had no interest in politics, no patience for the constant debates and arguments. There was only one thing Alexi Drogov liked, one skill where he was an unmatched expert. Killing.
“I need to deal with several problems, my old friend. Problems you can help me with.”
Drogov took a gulp from his glass and smiled. “You want me to kill Chang Li.”
Samovich smiled. “Yes, perhaps. Eventually. He’s becoming too dangerous, and I’m far too distracted with the fighting on Juno to keep an eye on him. But, eliminating him won’t be easy. No one can know I’m involved.” The Secretariat had few rules binding its privileged members, but the biggest one was crystal clear. No assassinations of anyone else on the Secretariat. Not without an official sanction. “If anyone even thinks I’m behind it, I’ll be in a shitstorm.”
“So he needs to choke on a chicken bone?” Drogov laughed and took another drink, draining the glass in a large gulp. Samovich had never known anyone who could consume as much alcohol as Alexi Drogov and still remain perfectly lucid. And as dangerous as a viper.
“Something like that.” Samovich slid the bottle across the desk toward his friend. “I’m not sure yet though. When the time is right, we’ll figure it out.” He paused uncomfortably. “There’s something else.”
Drogov had been about to pour himself another drink, but he stopped abruptly when he heard the change in Samovich’s voice. Whatever his friend had in mind, he had a sudden feeling he needed to be stone cold sober when they discussed it.
“Esteban is much sicker than is commonly known.” Common was a relative term. The population of Earth and the vast layers of the lesser bureaucracy knew nothing at all about the Secretary-General’s illness. The members of the Secretariat – and probably a few other highly placed UNGov functionaries – knew he was sick. Some of them had incomplete details, but Samovich was fairly certain all the other Secretaries, at least, knew Esteban was dying. But he was pretty sure none realized just how much his condition had deteriorated. “I may need to make some kind move if I can’t get things wrapped up on Juno quickly.”
Drogov set his drink down on the desk. “You mean…” He let his voice trail off. There were some things you didn’t say, even in a private office that was swept three times a day for listening devices.
Samovich nodded. “Maybe. Only if necessary.”
Drogov’s relaxed demeanor was gone. His expression was deadly serious. “It won’t be easy to breach that security.”
“None of it will be easy.” Samovich leaned forward and lowered his voice. “But I need a plan, and it has to be ready to go on a moment’s notice.” He paused. “Just in case. Can you do it?”
Drogov sat silently, staring back across the desk at his oldest friend. He’d killed a lot of people to help Samovich reach the Secretariat, but this was something else entirely. It wasn’t every day someone planned the assassination of the Secretary-General, the leader of UNGov and the effective dictator of all mankind.
He stared into Samovich’s eyes wordlessly as the long seconds slipped silently by. Finally he took a single deep breath and answered. “Yes,” he said softly. “I can do it.”