Statesman (4 page)

Her effort was not sufficient, but I made up for it with my performance. I gagged and held my breath, trying to make my face go mottled, and in due course collapsed. I came down on her luscious torso, my face separated from hers only by her grip.

Tasha lifted her head to touch my lips with hers. We kissed, in our fashion, though I remained carefully unresponsive, playing dead.

But I knew I wasn't fooling her. Dazed she might be, but she could still tell the living from the dead.

She rolled me off her, then got up, went to the bathroom, dressed, and put her hair and makeup back in order. She left the room without speaking again.

I got up and followed much the same routine. Soon I returned to the main office, where Tasha had resumed work.

I hesitated, then approached her. “How's it going?” I asked.

She flashed her décolletage at me. “We're making progress, Tyrant. We'll be ready for a field trip in perhaps three days.”

I read her as she talked. She was the normal secretary, with no killer instinct. She surely had no memory of her attempt on my life. Once the sexual encounter was over, she had reverted to her innocent state.

And to her effort to seduce me. It was as though the past half hour had not happened.

What disturbed me was that, though I had just had my sexual satisfaction of her, her manner and appearance still turned me on. Of course I knew better than to ever get intimate with her again—not unless I first tied her down! But if she could tempt me even slightly, immediately after my satiation and my close escape from assassination, she would surely tempt me more as time passed. I would be wanting this woman, despite the danger. Perhaps even because of the danger, because there is a special challenge to possess the woman who is emphatically not a casual plaything. At my age, it seemed to be more natural to flirt with the inevitable extinction, as if by averting it I could deny its inevitability.

I could not afford to take that risk. Yet I did not want to expose Tasha's nature, thus clearing the way for some new threat. What should I do?

I had another inspiration. The solution lay not with Tasha, who was what she was, but with me. I needed to arrange to eliminate any future temptation I might feel for her body.

We worked on the research until Spirit returned. She knew immediately that something had happened; my sister does not read people the way I do, but she knows me as well as anyone ever has. She made no comment, but when the day concluded and Tasha departed for her apartment, Spirit looked inquiringly at me.

“I accepted her seduction, and she tried to kill me,” I said simply. “She's a mole—an assassin mole.”

“And you don't want to eliminate her?” she inquired with raised eyebrow.

I explained my thinking on that matter. “But it's dangerous,” I concluded. “She still tempts me.”

“You always were a fool about women,” Spirit said. “Fortunately, they always were bigger fools about you.”

“Not this one. If I touch her again I may not survive it.”

“Put a pacifier on her,” she suggested.

I smiled. Of course that wasn't serious. A pacifier makes a person lose volition, and it can indeed be used for rape, but that never appealed to me any more than rape itself did. What I wanted was of course impossible: Tasha's willing, nonmalicious acceptance of my advances.

“So what do I do?” I asked, somewhat plaintively.

“You get another woman.”

“Another woman might well be another mole,” I pointed out.

“Not if the source differs. You can get a guaranteed safe woman, with all the qualities you require.” She seemed amused.

“What source?” I asked, perplexed.

“Your wife, of course.”

“Megan?” I asked, appalled.

“She knows your tastes, I suspect.”

I realized that she was serious. It would be presumptuous to suggest that my sister resents any part of my life-style, including my romantic affairs, but perhaps she suffers a certain impatience on occasion. I'm sure she regrets my breakup with Megan, as I do myself.

I pondered, then decided to call her bluff. “Then send Megan a message from me: 'Send me a woman.' ”

Spirit smiled enigmatically. “I shall.”

And she did.

We traveled—Spirit and Tasha and I, and our security personnel—to the Saturnine Republic of Kraine, and to the bubble city of Dessa within it. This was south from Skva, but the phenomenal differentiation in wind velocity made that direction largely meaningless. Dessa circled the planet significantly faster than did Skva, so while its geographic location was south, its actual position could be around at the far side of the planet. This was part of the rigor of Saturnian society that we had not experienced on Jupiter. It made intercity travel more complicated than elsewhere, and tended to set apart the different bands, resulting in greater isolation of subcultures. Saturn, far more than Jupiter, was a conglomeration of peoples, as its overall designation indicated: the Union of Saturnine Republics.

We used an airplane provided by the government; apparently we counted as Party officials, and as such did not mingle with the common herd. Certainly that was safer, considering the two assassination attempts that had been made against me. I glanced covertly at Tasha, still amazed that she should change character so thoroughly, becoming a sadistic killer before reverting to her pleasant innocence. Again I felt that dangerous attraction; I wanted to possess this woman again, perhaps because I knew she was truly forbidden.

We navigated the currents and homed in on Dessa. It was on the so-called Black Sea, which was a band of turbulence generated by the shear between winds of radically differing velocities. It was possible to navigate the sea, but not to live in it, for the irregular storms that manifested would have severely shaken any city-bubble. Actually, our preliminary research suggested that the political turmoil of this region was just as severe as the geographic violence.

We landed and in due course were ensconced in an office complex very like the one we had left in Scow. Dessa was not the largest city in Kraine, or even the third largest, but it did have most of a million residents and was important as a port. During System War One it had been occupied by five or six conflicting forces in succession; in System War Two it had suffered a quarter million casualties by massacre or deportation. Yet there was no sign of those past ravages now; it was a busy and seemingly prosperous city.

Within a day I had my interview with the Party official in charge here. I was sure he would never have agreed to see me if I hadn't come with the highest recommendation; as it was, he was unable to refuse, lest he be summarily removed from office. At this point I no longer remember his name, and in any event it's not important; I will simply call him Comrade Ivan, and re-create the essence of our conversation as accurately as is feasible.

Ivan was the ranking person in Kraine, and could have resided in the capital city, but preferred this port city. He curtly presented the statistics of trade and output, showing how things had improved recently and how quotas were being fulfilled. It looked good enough on the surface—but I had done my homework.

“This fifty million tons of wheat,” I inquired. “Is this export or import?”

He frowned. “Import,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “We are the chief port city for this region, and do much business with other planets.”

“But shouldn't the USR be a net exporter of grain?” I asked.

He harrumphed. "Well, in the majority of years it is, and of course Kraine itself has generated a surplus.

But we got a very good price—"

“A surplus for the USR as a whole?”

“For Kraine. We supply grain to other—”

“Because Kraine is the major harvest region of this planet,” I said. “Why, then, are you importing grain on such a scale?”

“There have been adverse conditions recently,” he admitted. “But our five-year plan—”

“Is running calamitously below expectation,” I said. “The fact is, Ivan, your administration is a disaster.”

“Not mine!” he cried. “I do not make policy! I only follow directives. I am doing as well as is possible in my circumstance.”

My reading of him confirmed his belief in this. He was basically a good man, a Party appointee but not stupid. He had to defend the status quo, because he would be removed if he did not, but he was really not to blame for its shortcomings. This was why I had selected him for my first approach, though he was not the ranking official of the Party structure, merely of this region.

“Ivan, I have been assigned the task of doubling the wheat harvest in two years,” I said.

He choked, trying not to laugh. “Best of fortune, Comrade Tyrant!” he wheezed.

“I do not intend to rely on fortune, Comrade. I intend to deliver.”

He shook his head. “The legends of the Tyrant of Jupiter are great indeed! But this is not Jupiter. There are elements here that will foil any attempt to—”

“What elements?” I asked sharply.

He became nervous. “Merely factors that—”

“Listen, Ivan, I am not any secret agent of the Party attempting to trap you into an unpatriotic utterance. I am the Tyrant, acting under direct authority of Chairman Khukov. I rank you, and I mean to have your complete cooperation. Do you need time to verify this?”

“No, Comrade Tyrant,” he said grimly.

“Then tell me directly what you deem to be the prime causes of the underperformance of this region with regard to farming. I will not condemn you for those.”

He grimaced. “Tyrant, you can have me removed from office now, but after you depart, there will be other influences. You put me in a very difficult position.”

I had encountered this sort of thing when tackling the Pirates of the Belt. Those who supported me did not dare to do so openly, because they would be killed after I left. I had handled that by eradicating the enemy pirates.

“I will protect you from those other influences,” I said.

“This is impossible, Comrade! They—”

“Such as the nomenklatura. When I depart this region, none will remain in power.”

Ivan was shaken. “You can do that?”

“That is what I came to do.”

He stared at me. “The harvest—is only a ruse?”

“I intend to do that too. The two go together.”

He shook his head again. “If any other person said that, I would deem him insane!”

“Do you remember Big Iron of Jupiter?” I had destroyed the power of the iron cartels by executing all their executives. I do not look back on that episode with particular pride; it was a function of my madness following the death of my closest secretary, Shelia. But it was a useful reference for those who doubted the resolve of the Tyrant.

He gulped. “I remember.”

“I will protect you,” I repeated.

And so Ivan told me what I needed to know: the names of all those Party officials who stood foursquare against progress and efficiency. This confirmed the list I had worked out in the course of our research, and fleshed it out. These men had to go.

“But I must act at the proper time,” I said. “Do not repeat this dialogue to anyone in the interim.”

“Comrade Tyrant, you may be certain I will not!” he agreed.

He also told me of the rampant inefficiency and lack of motivation among the workers. “They could do better work if they wanted to,” he said. “But they have no desire. They sneak as much of the harvest as they can to the black market, and seem to take perverse pride in wasting much of the rest.”

“Why should this be?” I asked, as if I had no idea.

“I think it is historical,” he said. “Kraine has always wanted to be independent but has constantly been besieged by foreign powers. It never asked to be part of the Saturnine Union; it had no choice. After System War One, when the Uranians battled the Bolsheviks, Kraine declared its independence. But the foreign armies overwhelmed it, and after three years of war in Krainian territory there was massive famine. Five million Kranian people may have starved. After that came the forced collectivization; thousands of peasants were killed resisting it, and millions lost their holdings. Is it any wonder their sons still smolder under this yoke? They have only enmity toward the power that disenfranchised them.”

I nodded. “In Jupiter we have free enterprise.”

“We had it here, once. But today all must work for the benefit of the state—except the nomenklatura, who work only for themselves.”

“And who therefore are the most dedicated to their cause,” I agreed. “But suppose I restored free enterprise to Kraine?”

“This is Saturn, not Jupiter!” he repeated. “The entire philosophy differs.”

"I am not sure the philosophy counts as heavily as the reality. Suppose we called it progressive socialism.

Could you administer such a program?"

Ivan spread his hands. “I would try.”

I went out to a collective farm bubble and talked with the supervisors and the peasants. I could see that they lacked motivation.

I spent two weeks going from city to city and from farm to farm, meeting the people, talking with them, not so much to gain new information as to establish my presence, so that they would believe me when I addressed them by holo. The Tyrant of Jupiter was here in Kraine, deposed and exiled from his own planet, but determined to improve the harvest here. I knew the word was circulating throughout the region. They knew of, and generally respected, what I had done on Jupiter, and they understood that there had been no war with Saturn in that period. Could the Tyrant do anything for them? So by the time I was ready to make my mass address, they were ready to listen.

Then I spoke. First I clarified my mission: to double the harvest. “Chairman Khukov has given me complete authority to do what is necessary to accomplish this. I believe that the workers of Kraine are capable of it; all you need is fair administration, and reason to do your best. I will give you fair administration—but first it is necessary to clean out the bad element. I hereby declare the entire political hierarchy of Kraine to be abolished, its members placed in protective custody until they are able to arrange their departure from this republic.”

The feedback monitors showed a sea of blank faces. They could hardly grasp what I was saying; they wondered if it were a joke. Then the military personnel I had arranged to alert swung into action. Every member of the nomenklatura in the entire region of Kraine was politely apprehended. The cameras showed the complete astonishment of these officials; they had had no warning.

Ivan himself was arrested and brought to me. He alone had known of this. On camera, I asked him:

“Comrade Ivan, do you understand that your power has been dissolved, and that of all in your administration?”

“Preposterous!” he spluttered.

“Take him away,” I said.

The men escorted him away. This was part of my promise to him: He had cooperated fully, and now I was protecting him by making an example of him. None of the nomenklatura would seek revenge against him, because he was obviously as much a victim as they. But he would be reassigned to an equivalent post elsewhere, where he would administer a similar brand of progressive socialism, as would others of the deposed staff, as warranted. I had all their names, thanks to Ivan's information. The majority would be less kindly treated; they would be incorporated into the working force at low levels and barred from administrative positions. This was the first abrupt step in the disenfranchisement of the most powerful class in the Union of Saturnine Republics. I was commencing the hatchet job for Khukov.

“Now we shall establish the good element,” I continued, as if this audacious and amazing act were routine. “Each collective farm bubble will hold an election to choose representatives to come to me in the next few days. From these I will choose new administrators. Their job will be to facilitate production by any reasonable means, and to distribute the rewards for success.” I smiled, seeing more blank faces on the monitors. “We are instituting what I term progressive socialism. I do not question the validity of your political or economic system; I am merely amending it slightly. There will now be direct material rewards for every bubble that improves its performance over that of the past season: special privileges and higher pay for every worker in it. The bubble that improves the most will receive additional rewards. And the region that shows the most sustained improvement over the coming years will have the first choice of the Dream.”

Then I told them of the Dream of galactic colonization. “The technology has not yet been properly tested,” I cautioned them. “But Chairman Khukov is working on it, and in two years there will be a practical test. If this is successful, he will proceed to the major project—and if Kraine has contributed significantly to this by providing the rich harvests needed to support such an effort, Kraine will have the chance to colonize a complete new planet elsewhere in the galaxy, and the leading bubble will have the first choice of location on that planet.”

I continued, clarifying it for them, but that was the essence. They might not believe me immediately, but what I said was to be confirmed by Chairman Khukov, and then the belief would come. The broadcast was limited to Kraine, but of course the news would leak out, and then the rest of Saturn, and indeed the rest of the Solar System, would quicken with interest.

Of course this is simplified; the neglect and mismanagement of centuries is not reversed by a single speech. My address was mostly a statement of intent. What counted was the follow-through, and Spirit handled that. As always, I was the figurehead, she the reality. She had long experience in Jupiter government, and before that in the Jupiter Navy, organizing chains of command and implementing effective programs. We had already formed a nucleus of solidly committed personnel to operate the new system. The new people sent by the collective farms would come first to me for screening; that was my talent, and while I do not disparage it, I have always been aware that superior personnel are only part of the total picture. I would weed out the unfit, and the fit would be organized and trained to run the program.

There was also the matter of prices and taxes. Prices had been kept artificially low, for the benefit of the consumers but that had made it uneconomical for those independent farmers who remained. Taxes on these were high, helping to complete the disincentive. I had made a forceful case to Ivan, and to Khukov, and gained their reluctant acquiescence: a freer market, without artificial pricing, and nominal rather than punitive taxation. We wanted to make it pay to farm.