War World III: Sauron Dominion Read online

  “Like rocking a bowl of water?”

  “Precisely, Dihtahn Shah. But think of it as a bowl with a pinched middle, where one side has oil and the other water. The fluids cannot mix, but in order for them to mingle that crimp must remain unobstructed.”

  “Why should we care if they mingle or not?”

  Yurek blinked. “Because there are so few birds and insects on Haven.”

  Diettinger was lost. “What has that to do with it?”

  “Of course,” Breedmaster Caius suddenly spoke. “Pollination on Haven is mostly wind-driven. That’s why so many of the local tree species are primitive conifers. Wind patterns generated within the Shangri-La could never be strong enough to cross-fertilize all the plants growing within the valley, not with Haven’s thin air, not without the help of the high pressure system of currents generated at the pass.’

  Yurek nodded. “And such birds and insects as we do have ride those wind currents back and forth, between valley and steppe, year round. The air above the mountains is too thin for them to survive flying through.”

  Caius continued: “There is a far greater consideration as well, First Citizen. The Shangri-La is the breadbasket of this hemisphere, true, but it is also the only environmentally secure birthing area we know of on the entire world. The valley with its sheltering mountain ranges is simply a larger version of Yurek’s plateau. Enough of an obstruction in the structures which govern atmospheric conditions could result in equalizing the air pressure globally, which would mean dropping it significantly within the Shangri-La.”

  Diettinger kept his eyes on Yurek as he addressed the others: “Then the need for controlling the valley-- and thus the need for the Wall--is clearer than ever.”

  “Wind vents,” Denbannen said abruptly.

  “Clarify,” Diettinger said, still without taking his eyes off Yurek.

  “I can modify the design to accommodate large openings in the upper two thirds of the Wall, First Citizen. That will allow for the natural maintenance of atmospheric pressure, and save a great deal of weight in the bargain. Perhaps enough to stabilize the Wall.” Denbannen thought a moment and added: “I might even be able to rig wind turbines in the vents to generate extra electrical power.”

  Diettinger was still watching Yurek. “But that won’t do it, will it?” he said.

  Yurek did not answer.

  “The Wall is still flawed, and you know how.” Yurek tried to hold the Sauron’s gaze, but found he could not; the man was an infidel, but he was touched by Allah whether he knew it or not, and he was a khan the likes of which Yurek had never seen.

  “Yes, aga” Yurek said quietly. He pointed to the model. “I cannot say it any other way, aga; it is clumsy. It tries hard where it need not, and ignores important places that must be considered. It is too complicated.”

  “It’s almost a mile high and three miles wide,” Denbannen protested. “Of course it’s complicated.”

  Yurek shook his head. “No, no, that’s wrong. Forgive me, aga Din b’ahn Ahn, but you are mistaken. At this scale, the more complex you make it, the more weaknesses must be part of it. And enough weaknesses will destroy anything.”

  “Can you suggest a better way, Yurek?” Diettinger asked quietly, and Yurek was sure that his life depended on the answer.

  Taking a deep breath, he said: “You have planned support braces, which will be needed for the shape of the Wall you designed. But why use a shape that needs supports when you have mountains on either side to hold the wall up? Form the Wall in overlapping vertical wedges, which will strengthen each other as they settle into the pass. The mountains will press them together, with that stress adding to the strength instead of weakening the structure.”

  “ ‘If you can’t solve the problem,’“ Diettinger quoted the Sauron tactical primers, “ ‘change the problem.’“ He gestured for Milsen to translate it to Yurek.

  The mujahadin smiled a little. “Precisely, aga,” he said.

  Diettinger addressed Milsen: “Is your new interpreter ready?”

  “Yes, First Citizen.”

  “Detail him to Squad Leader Gav’s unit. Savin.” Diettinger’s aide materialized as if by magic. “Inform Squad Leader Gav his unit is to escort the interpreter to Yurek’s village for a meeting with their chieftain. Have them standing by for departure on one hour’s notice.” He dismissed Savin and looked up to see tension evident on Yurek’s face.

  “What is the matter with him?” Diettinger asked Milsen.

  After a brief exchange with the captive, Milsen said: “He apparently understood some of what you said, First Citizen. He says that his khan will never submit to our rule.”

  “We’ve heard that one before,” Quilland’s bored voice carried from the table.

  Diettinger held the young Afghan’s gaze for a long moment before saying: “Yes. I know.”

  “First Citizen.” Diettinger’s aide, Savin, picked that moment to enter without knocking.

  “Speak.”

  “A band of twelve human norms has arrived at the main gate; they ask for an audience.”

  “The main gate?” Deathmaster Quilland, charged with security for the Citadel, and having waited patiently through all the engineering discussion to make his own reports, was instantly on his feet and headed for the door. “Up here? How did they get up from the valley without being spotted?”

  “They came down, Deathmaster Quilland,” Diettinger said, a quiet look of satisfaction in his eye. “Didn’t they, Yurek?”

  Yurek nodded, once.

  “First Citizen, they will not surrender their weapons.”

  “Bring them in. Here.”

  Diettinger looked at Althene. The First Lady lowered her eyes and left the room. I will hear of this, later, he thought. Quilland, too, looked distinctly disapproving.

  “The day we cannot subdue a dozen armed human norms,” Diettinger told his advisors, “we deserve to be removed from the gene pool.”

  He looked back at Yurek. “This parley may save your life, Yurek. Do you know that no human norm has set foot in this Citadel, or received an audience with me since--” Diettinger’s hand went up to rub the patch over his left eye “--well, let’s say since we arrived here on Haven?’

  Yurek bowed his head. “I am honored, Dihtahn Shah.”

  Diettinger nodded. “Yes. I believe you are. I confess that if your people are all like you, they are unlike any human norms I have ever met. I find that a most refreshing change.”

  Diettinger was looking from Yurek to Caius and back again. “Who are your people, Yurek? And how can you make high-quality firearms by hand, have a scientific understanding of weather patterns and biology, and yet wear animal skins and live in caves?”

  Yurek shrugged again, apparently his stock answer to whatever bewilderment he caused infidels.

  “Insh’allah,” he said.

  “I have come to parley for the life of my son.”

  Milsen was translating from the fluid Afghani tongue into Sauron even as the khan spoke, allowing Diettinger the opportunity to study the man. The Havener called Abdollah Khan was square-jawed under a bushy beard, with a large, powerful frame. Diettinger saw that he was missing the last two fingers of his left hand. I like him already, the First Citizen thought.

  “No parley is necessary,” Diettinger said evenly. “Your arrival has made your son a guest, no longer our prisoner.”

  The khan sat quietly, scrutinizing the Sauron.

  “He may leave?”

  “At once. Now that he is healed.”

  The khan’s eyes glinted. “Ah. You have cared for him. How may I repay your kindness?”

  “You cannot.”

  Diettinger watched the man stiffen. “You wish to have me in your debt?”

  “No. It is simply that the care provided to your son was freely given for our own purposes. You owe us nothing, so there is nothing for you to repay.”

  The khan leaned slightly toward one of his own men, the trusted Mulli, and whispered: �
��Have these Saurons no social grace at all? We have opened negotiations, I have spoken the correct formalities, and still there is no mention of the ransom they must surely demand!”

  The khan’s bodyguard shrugged, his grip on the armed grenade beneath his coat never slackening. “Perhaps they plan some treachery, khan; shall I throw the grenade now?”

  Abdollah Khan considered a moment, then shook his head. “No, Mulli. But keep it ready.” He turned back to Diettinger and Milsen. “Does my son still live?”

  “He lives.” Diettinger turned to another of his Soldiers and said something in the Sauron’s indecipherable clucking. “He will be brought to you. Then we will eat, and you may leave.”

  Abdollah Khan’s men bristled, and he said, “I will leave whenever I wish.”

  “No, Abdollah Khan,” Diettinger said simply. “That you will not do.”

  Beside Abdollah Khan, Mulli tensed, but the khan put out a hand. “I am here under a truce.”

  “You are here as my guest,” Diettinger corrected him. “And an uninvited one at that. There is no truce, for we are not at war with your people. And if we were at war, no truce would be necessary or possible, for your people would all be dead.”

  “My khan!” Mulli gasped in horror. “How can you bear this infidel’s arrogance? Let me feed him this grenade, aga, I beg of you!”

  Abdollah Khan sat back, making himself comfortable. If he was to die, he would enter Paradise with dignity. “What do you gain by making me prisoner? My people made me khan by their own free will; they can make another just as easily.”

  Diettinger shook his head. “You stubbornly refuse to accept the absolute meaning of my words; this is frustrating, and dangerous. I ask that you put aside all your conventions of negotiation for the next few minutes, and listen.”

  Abdollah Khan watched the one-eyed Khan-of-All-the-Saurons carefully for a long time before he spoke to his bodyguard. “Disarm the grenade, Mulli,” he said, loudly enough for Milsen to hear. There was no response, and he turned to berate his nephew for disobeying him.

  Mulli was pinned in the viselike grip of another Sauron, who had clamped one hand over the Afghan’s lips and used the other to calmly remove the grenade from his grasp; and Abdollah Khan had never heard.

  “We do not view this as treachery,” Diettinger said as the Soldier released the bodyguard and carefully handed him the grenade. “No Sauron ever goes to a meeting with strangers unarmed. But a misunderstanding could have disastrous consequences for both our people, and I suspect we have both seen disasters enough to last.”

  Warrant Savin arrived with Yurek in tow. The young mujahadin went to sit at the feet of Diettinger, the traditional place for hostages, but Savin re-directed him to a place between his father and cousin.

  “We have been on Haven for three years,” Diettinger said. “We have never met your people before, and yet you are only a few kilometers away from our stronghold here. Why is this?”

  “You have nothing we want.”

  “Yet you have something the Chin want. Your plateau allows for safe birthing in the thin upper atmosphere of Haven. This is a great prize, more so since we have taken control of access to the Shangri-La Valley.”

  “They have tried many times to take it,” Abdollah Khan acknowledged with a smile. “They have failed.”

  “How many men have you lost to the Chin?”

  The khan’s eyes narrowed. “Some. What does it matter? The Chin are infidels. Those who die killing infidels sleep the same night in Paradise. Insh’allah.’

  “And is it God’s will that all your people sleep in Paradise?”

  “Paradise is the reward of the Faithful,” the khan said, making an expansive gesture.

  “Just as the betterment of the world is their responsibility,” Diettinger returned. “In the words of your Koran, ‘Accursed is he who leaves this world no better than how he found it.’ Is that correct?”

  Abdollah Khan nodded. “It is.” This Dihtahn Shah was now speaking of the Holy Word, and the conversation required seriousness.

  “Then we may come to the purpose of our discussion, Abdollah Khan. Our goal on Haven is survival. We employ all means we deem necessary to ensure that result. Peripherally, our goals sometimes benefit the peoples of Haven, but that is never a consideration except as such effects may be likewise beneficial to us.”

  “You are a selfish people.”

  “Rationally selfish; yes, of course. And you are an unique people. Alone among Haveners, you have something of value to offer us besides your women, your food, or your land. You have expertise.”

  Abdollah Khan looked at his son. “You are speaking of the Gift my son possesses?”

  Diettinger nodded. “Your son, and the others like him in your tribe. This expertise will prove of great value to us in the years to come, as the machines which we rely on inevitably break down.”

  “We work for no one but ourselves!”

  “That must change,” said Diettinger. “You have a long history of resistance to authority; I am willing to accommodate this, up to a point. Here are my conditions: Your son will instruct our engineering and fabrication Ranks in these ‘arts.’ He will likewise serve as liaison between your tribe and the Citadel. His expertise, or that of another of your weaponsmiths, is to be made available to us on demand. Your tribe will secure and guard the passes up to and through your plateau, allowing free passage and providing all aid only to Sauron patrols or Haveners cleared and accompanied by such patrols. Your plateau is to be made available on a need-only basis to those of our women who require safe-birthing areas. Your women, presumably competent midwives, will receive additional training by our Breedmasters to bring them up to our standards.

  Abdollah Khan listened without a flicker of reaction crossing his features. “I have heard the absolute meaning’ of your words, Dihtahn Shah. You tell, but you do not ask. You have no respect for others.”

  “On the contrary, Abdollah Khan, I have the greatest respect for you and your people, as they relate to my designs.” Diettinger leaned forward. “Understand my position; in the last three years, I have ordered the destruction of twelve tribes which have rejected our terms. I will not tolerate resistance. I cannot afford to.” Diettinger told Savin to bring in food and drink. “Now, as to what your people may expect from us--”

  “We want nothing but to be left alone!”

  “The Chin do not leave you alone.”

  “And we kill them as they come!”

  Diettinger’s remaining eye fixed on the khan from under a white brow. “You will not have that option with us. You and your people have possibly the most fearsome reputation as guerrilla fighters in human history. I will not waste any Soldiers For your destruction. Your plateau can be sterilized by a single radiation-enhanced bomb. Our reconnaissance indicates that your tribe consists of less than six hundred people; in an enclosed area the size of your plateau, such a weapon can kill twice that number immediately. Four times as many would die from radiation poisoning within a week, ten times as many within a month. Diettinger sat back. “Note that I assume a great many of your people are hidden away; you are clever enough to keep your true numbers secret from prying eyes, and I am clever enough to take no chances with such dangerous foes.”

  Abdollah Khan was aghast. “You would kill all who live there, women and children, the old and sick?”

  “I would. If I must, I shall. But I hope that it will not be necessary. I said your plateau can be sterilized by such a weapon. I do not threaten you, I merely point out your vulnerability.”

  “If we must serve you to avoid such a fate, then we are all hostage to you.”

  “You have not heard the rest of my terms.”

  “I do not wish to hear more! You give us no choice but servitude or destruction. We have faced that choice before, and our answer has always been the same.”

  “I require that you change.”

  “You require that we surrender our destiny to you! That is the province
of God; no believer may willingly do such a thing.”

  “Untrue,” Diettinger countered. “Your teachings specifically allow false conversion to infidel faiths to preserve the life of one of your own.”

  Abdollah Khan took a deep breath. “You demand that we become slaves.”

  “I demand order.”

  “Cemeteries are very orderly.”

  “Indeed they are. Doubtless because they have so few debates.”

  “Do you expect us to just kneel before you and surrender?”

  “I do not expect anything of you. I am informing you of the situation which now exists. Whether it is resolved by negotiation, or genocide is immaterial to me.”

  “You enjoy telling, Dihtahn Shah. Then tell me this; have my people anything to gain by staying alive in a world dominated by you?”

  “First, I do not ‘enjoy’ this, Abdollah Khan. I look on my people’s presence on Haven as another battle, of great duration and uncertain outcome. I perceive you as a potential ally in that battle, but you must understand that I am in command. I am a Sauron Man, and thus incapable of involving my ego in this matter whatsoever. The irrationalities such an involvement would necessarily create would be counterproductive. As to what your people have to gain,” Diettinger gestured to Savin, who went to a set of large double doors, and opening them, ushered in several Soldiers pushing wheeled palettes. “Let me show you.”

  Diettinger stood and went to the palettes; the display and its timing had been orchestrated by Althene to appeal to the primitive sensibilities of the khan, and it worked perfectly.

  “Metals, high quality, suitable for conversion to tools, weapons, or any other purpose you choose. Medicine, and access to the medical facilities here at the Citadel, with women doctors to see to your own women; I understand you have societal taboos that interfere with male doctors examining, and thus effectively caring for your women. Food in the winter months, and fuel for your fires. Structures if you wish them.” Diettinger threw a tarpaulin over a rack of metal stock and returned to his seat.

  “You may have as much or as little of these things as you wish. Your faith will not be interfered with in any way. Your tribe will be exempt from the provision of tribute maidens; a singular concession, I might add. Your only obligation of arms will be to function as you always have, Keeping your plateau--and the passes into the Shangri-La which it straddles--secure from steppes raiders and valley refugees.”