Of course, not everyone had a job yet. The six thousand or so men employed by the legion, locally, were only a fraction of those needing work. On the other hand, those six thousand with money created a certain amount of work on their own, as did the men of Sada's brigade and even the d.a.m.ned foreigners. In any case, Tariq was finding business picking up almost to pre-invasion levels. As to whether it would drop off again, as more compet.i.tion re-entered the market; who could say? Tariq hadn't gotten where he was by inability to compete or to work hard. Indeed, in a freer market he expected to do rather better.

No one noticed when the tall, slender man with the oddly and unevenly shaped eyes pulled the beat up, dented and dirty white van to the front of the store. Even the lack of a license plate excited no interest; many, perhaps even most, of the automobiles operating in the town were unlicensed. Perhaps they had once had licenses; who knew?

The slender fellow had a friendly face, although anyone who saw him probably thought it seemed a bit distant. He fiddled with something in the van, something below door level. No matter, everyone in the country was still in a state of shock, even those for whom the shock was not unpleasant. Nor was there anything particularly suspicious in the driver's reaching below the dash.

Opening the van's door and stepping out, the driver simply walked into the store. No one thought it odd that he consulted his watch and left after approximately four minutes. And no one walking by the storefront connected the man departing with the parked van.

Standard military time fuse burns at a rate of forty seconds per foot. The fuse had been cut to a length of fifteen feet. Thus, between the time he reached below the dash, and subtracting a few seconds to enter Tariq's store and five minutes inside, the slender man had just over four minutes to walk away at a fairly leisurely pace. He was almost three hundred meters away when...

"What the f.u.c.k was the point?" Carrera asked Sada.

"I'm not sure," the Sumeri answered. "Does it have to have a point?"

The two men, surrounded by legionaries with a few of Sada's men as well, stood in front of what had once been a store. The street was mostly still there, barring only a four foot deep crater, but the front of the store itself was gone. Indeed, much of the back was gone as well. Bodies and parts of bodies remained. Some of those parts were very small.

"Do we know how many people?"

Sada asked one of his men before answering, "At least fifty-seven. That many are more or less intact. As to the parts..." he spreads his arms, shrugging "...hard to say."

Carrera's eyes focused on one very small part. It was a leg, small, slightly olive in tone, with a shoe on the foot. A baby girl's leg, he thought. A baby girl... like my Milagro. So f.u.c.king like my Milagro. So f.u.c.king what what if she was a Moslem, she was still just a baby girl. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! if she was a Moslem, she was still just a baby girl. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!

Sada looked at the legate, looked away quickly, and offered, "It is no shame to cry, my friend. The shame would be in doing nothing about this atrocity."

Wiping a hand across his face, which did little more than streak the dust that had gathered there, Carrera forced the sorrowful tone away and asked, bitterly, "What can we do? It's in the nature of these things that they leave little evidence."

Sada laughed grimly. "Remember what I said about us being the sort of people who become exceedingly resentful about losing family members? Well...I think we have here the recruiting brochures" his hand swept the scene, taking in the bodies and parts of bodies "to acquire some numbers of people who will do anything to get even for what's just been done to their their family. Watch and see if I'm not right." family. Watch and see if I'm not right."

He bellowed something to one of his officers supervising the soldiers at the bombing site. The officer came over and Sada spoke to him briefly. Then he turned back to Carrera and said, "I've just ordered Lieutenant Faroush to round up as many relatives as he can find and bring them to the university. I don't suppose your people are up to teaching a course in counter-terror? No? Well, we'll think of something. After all, it isn't as if we Sumeris have never had experience in crushing dissidents."

Village of Qadir Karam, Ninewa Province, 10/4/461 AC Sada's adjutant had narrowed the number of applicants down to thirty-six.

Since this was Sada Sada's adjutant, the officer didn't do the normal thing for Sumer and select based on who could offer the highest bribe. Instead, he screened out those too old, or too young, those who didn't look strong enough and those with wives and children still living. Not that the others were turned away completely. Instead, they were redirected to neighborhood militias. Some joined; some did not.

After that, the adjutant selected for intelligence and desire for revenge. This required personal interviews, literacy being far from universal in Sumer and vindictiveness something that could never be objectively tested for. This process took time but narrowed the number of suitable candidates considerably.

Those few dozen were gathered now in a plain and somewhat run-down adobe mosque in this plain and ramshackle Sumeri town. Indeed, the only brightness to the a.s.sembly came from the flickering lamps along the walls and the shining, hating, vengeful eyes of the men a.s.sembled. Along with the few dozen were another, smaller group of specialists Sada had recruited from the Dictator, Saleh's, secret police.

"So," Sada began, in addressing them, "you have agreed to give up your old lives, to become instruments of justice and vengeance? Excellent. Let me tell you what you are going to do. In a few minutes I am going to turn you over to one of my officers and a couple of special people he has selected to teach you how to become the instruments you wish to be. Before that happens, I am going to take your oaths, in the name of Allah, that you will obey every order you are given without question. You will be trained, over the next few months, in how to kill. More than that, you'll be trained in how to kill in the most terrifying manner. After that, you will return to your homes. In time, orders will come. You will gather in small groups to prepare and then you will hunt down and kill or otherwise punish those whom you are told to, wherever they may be and who or what who or whatever they may be.

"Let me explain something to you, two things, actually. One is that once you have taken the oath, you may not release yourself from it. Your families are hostages, wherever they they may be, for your continued obedience. The second is in the nature of what you are to do. may be, for your continued obedience. The second is in the nature of what you are to do.

"You see, there are three kinds of terrorism. The first is what you have suffered, random acts of senseless violence. This kind almost never never works," Sada sneered. "Witness the Federated States of Columbia. When their people were randomly killed, they merely went to war to exact vengeance and destroy the terrorists. Two regimes, here and in Pashtia, which formerly were great supporters of terrorism around the world, have fallen. More than that, as boys in school you all read at least those of you who had the chance to attend school did of the great terror bombings of the Great Global War. That was all random terror; it targeted n.o.body in particular. Note that no one ever knuckled under to them until nuclear weapons were used. So much for random terror. works," Sada sneered. "Witness the Federated States of Columbia. When their people were randomly killed, they merely went to war to exact vengeance and destroy the terrorists. Two regimes, here and in Pashtia, which formerly were great supporters of terrorism around the world, have fallen. More than that, as boys in school you all read at least those of you who had the chance to attend school did of the great terror bombings of the Great Global War. That was all random terror; it targeted n.o.body in particular. Note that no one ever knuckled under to them until nuclear weapons were used. So much for random terror.

"The other kind of terror is specific. With this kind, punishment is inflicted on particular persons, either on themselves or on those whom they love. To be the target of specific terror is a fearsome and terrible thing. Specific terror works. If it didn't, would the dictator have lasted a week?"

The eyes of the men a.s.sembled seemed to glow. Yes, yes Yes, yes, they thought. This is what we want: specific terror. This is what we want: specific terror.

"The third kind of terror is genocidal. With this an entire people and even civilization is threatened with destruction. Thus, it includes specific terror because, if all are killed, then all whom you love are killed as well. Anyone who does not believe that this kind of terror works is a fool. Genocidal terror was all that kept the Federated States and the Volgan Empire from destroying each other and, incidentally, probably us as well. Genocidal terror is probably all that keeps the United Earth Peace Fleet and the Federated States from using nuclear weapons on each other now."

"So there are your three types. The kind that was used on you and brought you here and the other two, which are the kinds you will use to retaliate. Are there any questions?"

Seeing there were none, Sada said, "Very well. Stand and raise your right hands..."

University Compound, Ninewa, 12/4/461 AC Ricardo Cruz was just leaving the gymnastics building where he had showered when it happened The first warning was a flash in the distance, behind some houses in the town. Next came the m.u.f.fled sound of a small explosion. Then came the first blast, much nearer. Only after that could anyone make out the freight train rattle of incoming mortar rounds.

Cruz screamed, "INCOMING!" as he threw himself into partial shelter at the angle where steps met building wall.

The rounds came in at even intervals, a dozen of them, about two seconds apart. Whoever was on the other end apparently knew what he or they were doing. They landed with about thirty meters between sh.e.l.ls, moving in a slightly arcing line from near the broad front steps to the main office of the campus and across an open field. Between the even s.p.a.cing and the even timing it was the obvious work of a well trained mortar crew, using the traversing wheel on the bipod to quickly and expertly lay the rounds. Before the last round had landed someone caught on the field was screaming out in pain.

"I knew this s.h.i.t was too good to last," Cruz muttered as he picked himself up from his temporary shelter and then ran to offer aid, toward the still incoming blasts.

I swear I will kick my own a.s.s if I ever go to the showers without my body armor again.

The mortar attack was over almost as soon as it began. Automatically, the legionary Command Post's duty officer ordered a reaction century of mechanized troops and a mixed flight by a Turbo-Finch and a Cricket.

The Cricket was airborne in minutes, the Finch following almost immediately thereafter. The mechanized troops were bursting through the university gate to race into the town scant moments later.

Mistake. Big mistake. Big, bad, f.u.c.king f.u.c.king mistake. mistake.

Khalid al Marri kept in the shadows atop the half wrecked apartment building. It was the same building which had been taken by the now departed FSA 731st Airborne Brigade. People lived in it, still, but not in anything like what had been its pre-war capacity. That was a shame, because al Marri's mission was to get the crusader dogs to overreact, to kill some number of the civilians now living inside. Ah, well; between his own surface to air missile and the other one located a kilometer away and overlooking the same area, one was sure to take down a crusader aircraft and cause a reaction. Airborne Brigade. People lived in it, still, but not in anything like what had been its pre-war capacity. That was a shame, because al Marri's mission was to get the crusader dogs to overreact, to kill some number of the civilians now living inside. Ah, well; between his own surface to air missile and the other one located a kilometer away and overlooking the same area, one was sure to take down a crusader aircraft and cause a reaction.

From his vantage point, al Marri saw the flashes of the mortar firing and the impact of the sh.e.l.ls inside the university compound. Not much time now. Not much time now.

Despite his prediction, al Marri was still somewhat surprised at how quickly the enemy got aircraft into the air. Just like the dogs, to have airplanes standing by to kill the people, Just like the dogs, to have airplanes standing by to kill the people, he thought, his heart overflowing with hatred for the infidel invader. he thought, his heart overflowing with hatred for the infidel invader.

To the outsider, privileged to look into al Marri's mind, that would have seemed incongruous. There he stood, ready to do his best to bring violence and destruction down onto the innocents of the apartment building beneath him, and hating those he intended to provoke into that violence because of their willingness to engage in it.

There was no real contradiction, though. To al Marri, and he shared this much, at least, with much, perhaps even most, of the cosmopolitan progressive community, things were neither good nor bad in themselves, but only in relation to the end being sought. To some extent, they shared that viewpoint with Carrera, at least as he had come to be, the major difference being only the end in view.

In any case, one of the infidel airplanes was coming his way. Still keeping to the shadows, al Marri picked up the tube he had carried to the top of the apartment building and placed it on his shoulder, fitting his eye to the sight. He aimed the sight and tube at the noise he heard coming from the craft's engine. Then he flicked a switch and was rewarded with a low hum as the seeker head went active and coolant circulated to drop its temperature so it could make out the heat of the airplane's engine.

The engine stood out in fuzzy view in the sight's eyepiece. Al Marri squeezed the first trigger and was rewarded with a beep which told that the sight saw the target. Elevating the tube until the target was near the bottom of his field of view, he then squeezed the second trigger. The sealed back of the tube blew off as the missile went airborne, al Marri feeling a slight push from his front as the missile's exhaust pushed him backwards.

Though he was too busy to note it, the other missile, launched from a kilometer away, likewise took off within a couple of seconds of his own.

Tribune Miguel Lanza of the legion's air ala ala wasn't really a scout pilot, despite the Cricket he strapped himself into. Instead, he'd flown transports most of his adult life; "hauling the trash," as he liked to say, especially when the trash consisted of human beings who could hear him say it. n.o.body minded; Lanza had been a fixture in the old Guardia Nacional, then in the Defense Corps, the Civic Force and now, finally, in the legion. wasn't really a scout pilot, despite the Cricket he strapped himself into. Instead, he'd flown transports most of his adult life; "hauling the trash," as he liked to say, especially when the trash consisted of human beings who could hear him say it. n.o.body minded; Lanza had been a fixture in the old Guardia Nacional, then in the Defense Corps, the Civic Force and now, finally, in the legion.

At nearly fifty, Lanza was a bit long in the tooth for the Turbo-Finches. Those birds went through gyrations that pulled the blood from the brain and made an old man faint. Even so, he had checked out on them. One never knew, after all, when a pilot would be needed. Likewise, he'd gotten himself qualified on the NA-21s and -23s which were similar to his normal bird and the Crickets. The helicopters were still beyond him but he intended to fix that if he ever got a chance to get back to Balboa.

Lanza loved to fly. Moreover, he believed in leading from in front. For a pilot, leading from in front meant flying, even flying the dangerous missions. That was why, despite command responsibilities as the senior officer of the ala ala, he'd been standing by on alert when the word had come of the mortar attack. First to the Cricket despite his years, Lanza had told the younger pilot just behind him in the sprint to, "f.u.c.k off, sonny. This one's mine. You can observe."

An amazing aircraft, the Cricket; one hundred feet of take-off run and the thing had gone up like an elevator, pulling Lanza's stomach down to his b.u.t.t despite the low speed. Lanza's observer was already fiddling with the radio before the thing was off the ground, getting the latest intel update from the command post. There wasn't much intel; that that was, after all, why the command post had ordered the Cricket launched in the first place. Aviation was mostly about reconnaissance and always had been. was, after all, why the command post had ordered the Cricket launched in the first place. Aviation was mostly about reconnaissance and always had been.

The command post did have a presumed firing position for the mortar or mortars no one knew for certain if there had been more than one that had fired at the university. This Lanza set his heading towards. It led over a set of five modern and ugly looking apartment buildings.

Once airborne, Lanza pulled one of the two sets of night vision goggles the Cricket carried over his head and onto his eyes. The observer did the same. Lanza looked back and over his left shoulder, catching sight of the Turbo-Finch which followed at a discreet distance. Confident of support, Lanza turned his eyes back to the flight path. Then, with both pilot and observer looking forward, both sets of goggles suddenly flashed brightly and went blank.

"s.h.i.t!" Lanza shouted as he pushed the Cricket's nose down with one hand, tearing off the goggles with the other. "s.h.i.ts.h.i.ts.h.i.ts.h.i.ts.h.i.t!"

The missile wasn't what one could call 'bright.' As a matter of fact, where the FSC had poured money into "brilliant" munitions, the Volgans and they had made the thing some years prior concentrated instead on "competent" ones. Competent Competent was another way of saying, 'good enough for the purpose, especially if used in ma.s.s.' was another way of saying, 'good enough for the purpose, especially if used in ma.s.s.'

It saw the target, a glowing greenish blur, and sped towards it. The target attempted to duck by dropping and the missile duly corrected itself, following the target down. The missile's dim but "competent" mind went something like, "Oh, boy, I'm going to hit...Oh, boy, I'm going to hit...Oh, boy, I'm going to hit," as it got closer. Still, the target went erratic. "Oh, boy, I'm going to hit," changed to, "Oh, s.h.i.t, I missed."

The missile promptly blew itself up, scattering numerous small rods of hot metal through the air, some of which connected with Lanza's Cricket.

Lanza felt the plane shudder, first from the blast and then, slightly and unevenly, from the metal rods scattered by the warhead. The observer felt rather more, and let it be known with a piercing scream, as one of the rods pa.s.sed through the upper portion of the c.o.c.kpit's Plexiglas rear canopy, through his seat, through his harness and into his back. He slumped forward.

The important thing is not to panic, Lanza reminded himself as he played with the controls to a.s.sure himself that his plane would still respond to command and fly. His heart was pounding, and it showed in his voice, as he called the CP and said, "This is Lanza...We've got Lanza reminded himself as he played with the controls to a.s.sure himself that his plane would still respond to command and fly. His heart was pounding, and it showed in his voice, as he called the CP and said, "This is Lanza...We've got SAMs SAMs! s.h.i.tpots s.h.i.tpots of 'em. My Cricket is. .h.i.t and my observer wounded...I think they got the Finch that was following me...I'm heading back and I suggest that no more planes be launched for now, not until we can reduce the SAM threat." of 'em. My Cricket is. .h.i.t and my observer wounded...I think they got the Finch that was following me...I'm heading back and I suggest that no more planes be launched for now, not until we can reduce the SAM threat."

Al Marri felt a great joy overflowing. True, and it was a shame, his own missile had failed to bring down its target. Yet he had seen the other crusader aircraft go up in a fiery ball of light. His partner in this enterprise had clearly scored against the enemy. Of course, the towering apartment building was still standing. Perhaps that would change. For now, al Marri decided to follow orders and leave. There would be other days. Besides, the enemy armored column which had left the university a few minutes prior was just now reaching the part of the town from which the mortar attack had come. The next few minutes would be interesting.

The mechanized century had taken some pretty fierce losses in the fight for the town. These hadn't been made good yet. Instead of having four tanks, five Ocelots, and fifty-eight men, the century had two, four and forty-six. Worse, maybe, the leadership was low. Both the century's key men, the signifer and centurion, had been killed, with command devolving onto a sergeant.

Not that Sergeant Paredes was a bad sergeant, not at all. The kid had actually been tapped for centurion track before the legion had even left Balboa. He was slated to be replaced by a newly graduated signifer, due in on the next transport. You really couldn't b.i.t.c.h; the whole legion was straining for leadership, what with the losses in the invasion and the scramble to form replacement units back home.

The problem was that the sergeant hadn't really been trained for the job he had. Smart? Check. Good att.i.tude? Check. Aggressive? Check. Brave? Double check. Wise?

Kaboom!

Three of al Marri's comrades in Fadeel's organization were waiting for the armored column as it approached. There were only so many roads into the area, a small open spot surrounded by buildings. Along each of the major ones a very large explosive device had been improvised from an automobile or, in one case, van. These were primed to be set off remotely, by radio. The radio control devices and solenoids were, after all, cheap and readily available for purchase from any good hobby store in the TU or FS.

True to form, the arrogant invaders took the easiest, quickest and broadest route to the mortar site. One of the men standing by with a handheld remote control device watched as the lead vehicle in the column pa.s.sed the van he had parked earlier. The first three vehicles were tanks, followed by the four that carried infantry. The bomber had thought that getting an expensive tank would be the greater prize but his team leader, who was also Fadeel's brother in law, had a.s.sured him that killing more men was better in the long run.

Thus he waited as the clumsy tanks pa.s.sed. When the first infantry carrier reached a spot next to the van he pushed the b.u.t.ton.

Kaboom!

The explosion physically threw the Ocelot's front around by ninety degrees, knocking Paredes' helmet off. He was slammed to one side, splitting the skin over his scalp and breaking one arm with a sickening crunch crunch. The driver, who had had his head stuck up out of the hatch, was knocked unconscious. From what Paredes could see, only half of the track commander made it into the track. Where his upper torso had gone? Who could say?

With blood seeping into his eyes and his arm shrieking in protest Paredes crawled to the back of the track and twisted the door latch open. The door still didn't move perhaps the hull was slightly deformed until the sergeant kicked it open. When he emerged, weaponless, helmetless and using one arm to try to keep the other in place, the building walls to either side were lit by fire, despite the smoke.

In shock, Paredes looked to one side and saw a tipped over Ocelot, with flames pouring out of it. No survivors, No survivors, he thought, grimly. he thought, grimly.

His a.s.sistant, a corporal, ran up asking, "What the f.u.c.k, Paredes? I mean, what the f.u.c.king f.u.c.k f.u.c.k?"

"Bomb," the sergeant answered, simply and a bit distantly. He was swaying on his feet as he continued, "I'm...a little hurt. Stop the tanks and get them back here. Set up a perimeter. Report to higher. And take over because..."

The sergeant pitched face first onto the asphalt.

University of Ninewa, legionary Command Post, 17/4/461 AC Sada was there, representing and in command of his Sumeri Brigade. So were all the cohort commanders as well as the primary staff and McNamara.

"Let's be honest," Carrera was saying. "We got overconfident and we got sloppy. Some of that's understandable; post invasion let down and all. We had the boys on an adrenaline high for weeks. When the adrenaline went, they just went on a natural downer. It was to be expected and we should have expected it. should have expected it....I should have expected it. should have expected it.

"That's in the past. We can only affect the future. For the future I have some other news, most of it good. There have been attacks all through the country over the last several days. For the most part, we got off lightly. The Anglians and the FS troops were hit a lot harder. I think we can thank Amid Amid Sada's watchers for the fact we weren't hit as badly. They've identified and helped round up about half of the insurgents, so we think, who infiltrated our ZOR..." Sada's watchers for the fact we weren't hit as badly. They've identified and helped round up about half of the insurgents, so we think, who infiltrated our ZOR..."

Carrera waited for a few moments for a translator to pa.s.s what he had said on to Sada who answered, "They did, Pat, and thank you. But they're only part of it. If there had been no work here then the attacks would have been a lot worse."

"I know," Carrera agreed. "In any case, there is some good news. The FSC's War Department is finally waking up to the fact that we have an insurgency here and it's not going to go away on its own. We've been offered a long term contract to keep a legion here and to expand that legion to roughly divisional strength. The details don't matter much except that the rate of reimburs.e.m.e.nt we get is going to be based on our strength in country. Even so, we're not going to hurry that expansion. For one thing, the Area of Responsibility we get a.s.signed, the size of it, goes up as our strength does. For another, if we break ourselves in trying to get big faster than our school system and recruiting standards would currently permit, we'll soon find ourselves unemployed." And I'll find myself without the means of finding and destroying those who murdered my wife and children. And I'll find myself without the means of finding and destroying those who murdered my wife and children.

"It isn't just the insurgents, Patricio," Fernandez said. "We've got to go after those who feed them, those who support them, those who supply them and those who'll spread their propaganda, too. Everybody."

Interlude

Terra Nova, 5 January, 2095 The unloading proceeded in accordance with a schedule designed to get one national or ascriptive group completely off the transport before another was unfrozen. The Panamanians came first, roughly ten thousand of them, as their colony, named Balboa, was the westernmost of the six colonies the Amerigo Vespucci Amerigo Vespucci had come to settle. Even among the Panamanians, there was a split as had come to settle. Even among the Panamanians, there was a split as Chocoes Chocoes Indians were to be dropped before the European and Mestizo descended people. The Indians were to be dropped before the European and Mestizo descended people. The Vespucci Vespucci would merely accelerate slightly in its...o...b..t to a.s.sume the best position for unloading each of the others. would merely accelerate slightly in its...o...b..t to a.s.sume the best position for unloading each of the others.

Ngobe Mzilikaze, Captain of the Vespucci Vespucci, thought this was needless and excessive care. True, there had been problems with the colonies from Europe, from further south in Latin America, and from Africa. And what happened with the colonists from the Balkans, the one time they had been awakened without regard to ethnicity, ought not even be talked about. But the Central Americans, despite having had a few wars amongst themselves over the centuries, had no real or deeply engrained hatred of each other. They much preferred civil to foreign war. Nonetheless, since the Cheng Ho Cheng Ho disaster, standard procedure was to unload ascriptive, national, religious and ethnic groups as separately as humanly possible. disaster, standard procedure was to unload ascriptive, national, religious and ethnic groups as separately as humanly possible.

Ngobe hoped the settlement went smoothly. He carried important dispatches for the UN enclave on the island they called Atlantis, dispatches he was bound to deliver personally. Yet he could not, consistent with his duty, abandon his post aboard the Vespucci Vespucci until all of his cargo was unloaded. until all of his cargo was unloaded.

Belisario Carrera had never even believed it was possible to be so cold. Shivering worse than a leaf in hurricane, worse even than a high living leader of a Kosmo charity faced with an audit, he sat up in his deep freeze cubicle like a corpse arising at a funeral.

That was not the only Finnegan's Wake Finnegan's Wake aspect to the resurrection, either. As soon as he sat up a white coated technician handed him a plastic cup containing several ounces of nearly pure ethanol mixed with what pa.s.sed for orange juice. aspect to the resurrection, either. As soon as he sat up a white coated technician handed him a plastic cup containing several ounces of nearly pure ethanol mixed with what pa.s.sed for orange juice.

"Drink this," the technician ordered. "Primitive, I know, but we've found it's the best thing to get the blood moving and to warm you up."