"Any questions?" asked the admiral commanding the Ironside's Carrier Battle Group after he explained the rules of engagement for the carrier and her escorts. Had a kinder fate intervened the steel gray old sea dog just might have become the chief of naval operations for the FS Navy. As it was, the Progressive administration was nearly certain to last past the admiral's mandatory retirement date. And the Progs would never let him or anyone like him become CNO. The same was true of the Army, FSAF and FSMC. The most aggressive, most traditional, most militaristic and least progressive senior officers had already been given the word: "There will be no place for you in the future and the sooner you retire the better for everyone."
"Just one, sir," said Ironside's captain, a former shoo-in for admiral himself, now doomed, it seemed, to be cast aside. "What's the fucking point of our being here?"
"Why, to suppress piracy, Captain," the admiral rejoined. "Didn't you listen to me when I explained the rules of engagement? They're clear as thin mud."
"On, not nearly that clear, surely, Admiral. Rule One: 'Guaranteeing free travel by merchant shipping is the number one priority' makes sense enough. But then we run into Rule Two: 'All human life is to be treated as sacred.' I think that must include pirate life as well, no? Rule Three: 'Ships and boats will not be stopped on the high seas without a warrant emanating from probable cause as determined by a federal judge.' There's going to be time to get a warrant? I don't think so. And then there's Rule Seventeen: 'Ships and boats not in the act of attacking merchant shipping will not be attacked.' Does that mean that once a pirate's made a successful attack and is on the way back we cannot engage? I think it does. And Rule Fourteen? 'All hostage situations will immediately be referred to the National Command Authority for determination of appropriate action.'
The captain crumpled up his paper copy of the ROE and dropped it disdainfully to the deck. "It's a waste of time, Admiral. We could deploy the entire fleet here and under these pussy rules it still wouldn't stop the piracy."
1/4/467 AC, UEPF Spirit of Peace
Always good to see my prime enemy wasting its time, mused High Admiral Robinson, watching on his screen as a group of Xamaris returned from a raided ship. The FSN wasn't interfering so the Xamaris must have grabbed some of the passengers or crew. The ROE for the battle group, a copy of which Robinson had received almost before the admiral commanding, made any quick reaction, or any action that might be proactive, essentially impossible. These he had passed on to Abdulahi, together with some pointed suggestions on just how to use the ROE to advantage.
Not only is the bastard using them to his advantage, but in the face of TN's only real naval power's helpless flailing about, its inability to control what amounts to seagoing camel drivers, more major shippers are buying protection from Abdulahi. So, of course, the incidence of piracy is down; the FSN can hardly explain that it's down because they failed; the Progressive administration gets to trumpet its "success" . . . and much of that protection money still goes to support Mustafa.
Things are going well in Nicobar, too, if not so spectacularly. Mustafa's boys down there are expanding nicely; seven bands, it is, fallen under Parameswara's control. Of course, supporting Parameswara is a net money drain on Mustafa, for now, and not a small one. But he'll make all that up and more once the Nicobars can get in on the racket in style.
Nicobar Straits, 7/4/467
It had all been going far too well, Parameswara knew. Something had to go wrong eventually.
"Eventually" came in the form of another group of Malay pirates heading out just as Parameswara's group was moving in. The outgoing pirates spotted one of Parameswara's launches looking alone and vulnerable and motored over to seize it. By the time they realized that that launch was not alone it was too late; the seizure turned into a fight which quickly escalated into a general melee at sea.
Parameswara's boys won that fight handily. When they were finished, and it only took a matter of minutes, three of their foes boats were burning on the haze-covered water. The boats themselves were draped with hacked and shot bodies, the blood that collected in the scuppers beginning to steam from the heat.
It's a terrible waste of good seacraft, Parameswara mourned.
Worse, though, was that the fight, while desperate in places, had overall gone too easily and ended too quickly. Their blood up, Parameswara's men hastily forced a landing and began an assault into the village from which their fellow Malay pirates had come. There, the massacre became general with the assaulting pirates shooting or hacking down old men, women, children and even the dogs and pigs of the place.
It was only with the greatest difficulty, and only after the huts were already burning, that the pirate chieftain and al Naquib were able to bring the men to order. By that time, there was nothing left but fifty or so women and children, most of them already raped at least once, remaining. The survivors wept, some of them. Others stood in shock. Parameswara was shocked himself.
"It was so damned unnecessary," he cursed at no one in particular.
"I'm not so sure," said al Naquib, who was rapidly picking up the local lingo. "We had already, maybe, made as much peaceful progress as we could. Didn't you pick your early conquests based on how likely they would be to fold without having to fight or massacre? Didn't you push the ones most likely to resist to the back of the list? Was not this group one you thought might put up a fight anyway?"
Parameswara shrugged. It was true but . . .
"Well they did. And they've paid for it. Now there are just about enough survivors to spread the word: If you resist the great new pirate king, Parameswara, all you will earn is death. So let's let these go with nothing but the clothes on their backs, their eyes to weep with and their tongues to spread the word."
* * *
Within a fortnight, the first chief of the still independent pirate bands along either side of the Nicobar Straits arrived at Parameswara's newly fortified coastal town to offer his allegiance to the new paramount chief.
16/4/467 AC, First Landing, Hudson, FSC
Matthias Esterhazy had no real idea why Mr. Saito and Mr. Yamagata had asked to see him. Their credentials suggested only that they were deeply involved, and very prominent, in Yamato's considerable shipping industry. He considered it most likely that they were interested in doing business with either Chatham, Hennessey and Schmied, Patricio's family firm and no inconsiderable shippers themselves, or its Balboan subsidiary, Alexander Steamship Company.
He'd done business with the Yamatans before, especially when he'd worked for SachsenBank. Thus he was unsurprised that the two businessmen, and a third who'd accompanied them, beat around the bush with meaningless pleasantries for more than an hour.
Actually, the third man—they'd introduced him only as "Captain Kurita"—said absolutely nothing. He's the interesting one, Esterhazy thought. Old, clearly he was very old, Kurita sat serene and upright. However silent Kurita may have been, and however ancient, Esterhazy saw keen intelligence in his eyes and thought he detected a wry amusement in his face.
He'd almost stopped listening to Saito and Yamagata until he heard, "And in the long run, it's just unsupportable, the price they demand to allow our ships passage."