Still, Mátyás was at least smarter than Lombroso, and his MSP was the System Unity and Progress Party’s primary counterintelligence service. Over the five decades of Lombroso’s régime, Yardley and Mátyás had done a fairly impressive job of crushing all effective opposition. They hadn’t managed to make him any less hated along the way, though. And while Mátyás seemed at least marginally aware of the potential downside of slaughtering his own planetary workforce in job lots, Yardley—like Lombroso—was clearly more focused on the casualties her guardsmen had taken.
Xydis considered the refreshing frankness of pointing out that she and Lombroso could always get more security troopers where the last batch had come from. Or, if not there, they could import them from off-world prisons or lunatic asylums! In fact, she considered—briefly, of course—reminding the system president who truly propped up his régime.
Appearances have to be maintained, she told herself instead. Besides, if I really want to jerk his leash, I need to take it up with Guernicke. Not that she’s any prize.
The “attaché” suppressed a headshake of pure disgust at the thought. Georgina Guernicke was the Trifecta Corporation’s chief executive in Mobius. As such, she, ought to have at least some vague notion about conserving her captive labor and customer base. But Trifecta was perfectly comfortable with the slash-and-burn style of exploitation Frontier Security’s sweetheart deals made practical out here in the Verge. She didn’t give a damn what Lombroso or his cronies did as long as they didn’t get any uppity ideas about who actually owned their star system.
“I realize the troublemakers are likely to be even more exercised than they already were, Mister President,” Xydis said out loud, once she was sure she had control of her tone and expression again. “And I assure you, I’ve forwarded all your security people’s warnings to Commissioner Verrochio’s office. I’m sure his people have reviewed them carefully.”
Or not, she thought. After all, you’ve been whining about the threats to your régime for the next best thing to four T-decades. Ever hear the story about the little boy and the wolf? Whatever the hell a “wolf” is.
“And how much good is that going to do?” Lombroso demanded. “Meyers is over twelve days from here even for a dispatch boat! And it’s not like they’ve paid any attention before this!”
“Mister President,” Xydis allowed a cold edge to creep into her voice, “you’re perfectly well aware of how the Manty provocations in Talbott and Monica have threatened not just this entire region but especially the Madras sector for the last T-year. Obviously, the Commissioner’s attention has been focused on that threat. I realize it may feel as if he’s been ignoring your situation or the severity of the threat. I assure you that has not been the case, however.”
“That’s easy enough to say,” Lombroso muttered. But he also sat back down, Xydis noted with satisfaction. She’d thought reminding him who really ran the Verge might recall him to semi-rationality.
“I understand your concerns, Sir,” she said in a milder tone. “And I assure you I’ll send an immediate report to Commissioner Verrochio, and request an OFS intervention battalion or two. I’m sure Brigadier Yucel will send her very best troops and advisers to assist the Guard. It’s hardly a situation the Gendarmerie hasn’t faced before, I’m afraid.”
“Good,” Lombroso said. “But I hope you’ve also passed on my reports of Manticoran provocateurs. There’s no telling what kind of assistance they’re prepared to offer their proxies here in Mobius! For that matter, that’s probably where those antitank weapons came from this afternoon!”
“I’ll be certain to remind Commissioner Verrochio—and Brigadier Yucel—of those reports, Mister President,” she assured him.
Even if I don’t think there’s a chance in hell the Manties are actually trying to provoke trouble here in the armpit of the galaxy, she thought bitingly. Not that I wouldn’t be doing my best to kick Frontier Security in the most sensitive spot I could reach if I were them. But this little tempest started brewing well before jackass Byng sailed off to New Tuscany, and whatever anyone else thinks, I don’t see them deliberately courting a confrontation with the League. Even if they were, why in Mobius, of all places?! I’m sure they could find a better, more effective spot to make trouble. I’ll admit we’rea little behind the news out here, but still…
“Good,” Lombroso repeated. “Good.”
* * *
“Well, Xydis has promised him intervention battalions,” Michael Breitbach said bitterly.
The chairman of the Mobius Liberation Front stood on the balcony of what had been the flagship tower of an early Lombroso Administration public housing project which—like all Lombroso projects—had foundered in a sea of graft, kickbacks, bribery, and bareknuckle extortion. Only one of the projected towers had ever been constructed, and even it hadn’t been finished. The ten uppermost of its seventy floors were inhabitable only by the Mobius equivalent of rats, bats, and cockroaches.
Not that the public housing which had been completed was all that much better, when it came down to it.
Now Breitbach leaned on the balcony’s rickety railing (rather recklessly, in Kayleigh Blanchard’s opinion) and glared out across the darkened city. The fires still hadn’t been completely extinguished, and the pall of smoke was underlit by lingering flames. Rather more attention had been given to putting out the fires than to removing the bodies, of course. It wasn’t as if the dead were in any hurry, was it?
“That’s confirmed?” Blanchard asked, and Breitbach turned to face her, propping his elbows on the railing and leaning back against it.
“Yes,” he said, and she nodded slowly.
Although Blanchard was one of his most senior lieutenants and generally considered his heir apparent, not even she knew all (or even most) of his sources. Unlike most of the liberation movements which had come and perished in the half T-century since Lombroso won the presidency (in a “free, fair, and transparent election” overseen by no less an authority than that paragon of justice and fair play, the Office of Frontier Security), Breitbach had never cherished any illusions about the sheer scale of his task. Before he ever formed the first MLF cell, he’d spent literally years researching everything he could find about successful revolutionary movements. As a result, unlike any of the earlier movements the Presidential Guard had crushed, the MLF was a tightly compartmentalized organization which had been known to ruthlessly eliminate security threats. There were far better ways to die than to be identified by the MLF as a government informer, but there was no better way to guarantee one would die. Or that one’s body would end up deposited in some prominent location as a message to the Guard…and any other potential traitors.
“Do you think Verrochio will send them?” she asked after a moment.
“I think it’s a tossup,” Breitbach said frankly. “If—”