Chapter Two
Chapter Two
The Citadel had been designed for security, which First Rank Diettinger allowed was not the same as privacy. The cattle had allowed the Citadel, which they had called Ft. Stony Point, to fall into shameful disrepair. The instant Combat Engineer Denbannen had finished designing the Firebase network, Diettinger had re-assigned him to the refurbishment and expansion of the Citadel. In the meantime, most of the Sauron females were quartered in the livable quarters at the Citadel.
The one notable exception was Lady Althene, former Vessel Commander Second Rank. She remained at Diettinger’s side, as much to reinforce the image of the new dynasty as for her valuable counsel.
She was at Diettinger’s side now as they walked the rounds of the Command bunkers enclosure. They were stealing time away from attendants and staff, seeking in the open the privacy denied to them within the thick-walled bunkers and close quarters of the Citadel.
“We must not let this attack postpone our plans,” the Lady Althene said, as she reviewed the plans they had outlined for the transition of the Sauron colony from an invasion force to an established dynasty. “You are now First Soldier. In fact, next month during the First Settlement Celebration you will be officially instated as First Citizen, too.”
Diettinger heaved a sigh at her tone. “Yes. And now you will trouble me with the subject I have so far avoided with such success.” He almost wished for another raid by the cattle at this moment if it would but change the subject.
“Your pardon, Galen, but yes, I will. What of the Cyborgs? You have denied them participation in the pacification of Haven, denied them the one thing they know how to do—fight. You foresee no resentment from this act?”
“Their resentment does not concern me, only their survival. And their obedience.”
“Your insistence on the one may well cost you the other.”
“Althene, even in victory the Empire cannot long outlive Sauron. This war has bled them into exhaustion. The resulting dark age may last as long as a thousand years. During that time knowledge will be lost, technology will deteriorate, and skills will disappear. Even spaceflight may die out; the resolve to use it certainly will—for a time.
“Planets concerned with survival will not be interested in exploration, not when they will likely find only other worlds hungrier than they are. Cattle are motivated by profit, not conquest.”
He took her arm and drew her toward a bench in the faint sunshine, where they sat and faced the southwest expanse of the Shangri-La Valley.
“The first planets’ to regain the stars after the interregnum will be armed with weaponry primitive by our standards,” he continued, “primitive even by the standards of two centuries ago, perhaps. Even melee weapons, such as swords and axes, may not be uncommon. In that environment, the Sauron Race would be indomitable.”
He turned and lowered his voice. “And a Cyborg would be like a god. With such an inherent biological advantage, we would possess an unbeatable augment to whatever technological abilities we might retain. It is in that future time where my concern lies for the preservation of the Cyborgs. Their genes must not be lost in pointless military adventures to pacify this world. Why do you smile?”
“You present a formidable argument, husband. You sound almost like a historian.”
Diettinger could not help smiling in reply. “I have been living with an expert in the field, after all.”
Althene gave him a shy smile that made his heart beat faster. “This is not the time or place, Galen,” she said. “We have too much to discuss. Breedmaster Caius is confident that our genetic standards can be maintained, perhaps even augmented, by crossbreeding with the Havener women.”
Diettinger nodded. “Yes, an innovation that will no doubt please the Soldiers.” He stood and looked out over the courtyard of the Firebase, watching as dozens of Soldiers went from station to station with a sense of purpose that would mark them as unmistakably Sauron. “Even so, we must be cautious. Caius proposes breeding Sauron to Havener, then Sauron-Havener progeny to Sauron and Haveners, and the issues of such unions back to Saurons, so long as the original strain remains.” His voice faded on the last words as if he had only just realized their implications.
“And the difficulty Haven presents for birthing?” Althene referred to the thin atmosphere, to which only the Saurons themselves and a few small strains of local cattle had any resistance whatsoever.
“They will be brought to the Citadel during their pregnancies, of course. Caius’ staff will have completed the breedchambers from the salvaged equipment on board the Fomoria. They will be effective enough for our purposes.” Until they too, wear out, he thought. “Plus we have the birthing chambers that we confiscated in Evaskar; there are more in Castell City and the outlying towns.”
Many of the Haven towns supplemented their revenues by ‘renting’ out the birthing chambers to out-of-towners, mountain dwellers and nomads. Evaskar’s principal source of revenue had been the fees they levied on the northern Highland nomads, who would bring their pregnant women down from the steppes and into town for birthing. The Town had done this for centuries and made a rich living doing it. Evaskar reportedly contained the most fabulous Mosques in the Imperium outside of Levant.
“Engineering and his Rankers,” he continued, “are working on means of acquiring remaining Haven technology and industry to repair or fabricate any other such items we might need.”
“Tribute,” Althene said simply.
“Eh? Yes, of course; we can demand local females—”
“Why limit it to females? With half our machine shops lost in the attack and spares lost too, we need toolmaking equipment and all kinds of things. After our initial strike, the Haveners must be in dire need of basic necessities. Exact tribute from them in trade for our surplus. When hungry and cold this winter, what might they be willing to trade for a meal and a cheap heater: a radio receiver, computer, internal combustion engine, lathe... This will free our Techs to work on important projects, rather than basic light industry.”
Diettinger nodded. The prime concern of all Saurons was that Haven’s technology be reduced to—and maintained at—a level which did not allow for contact with any remaining part of the Empire or its ships. In the current, planet-bound state, the first Imperial warship that found the Saurons on Haven would be the last any of them ever saw.
Althene’s plan would go a long way toward denying the Haveners that technology, with very little effort on the part of the Saurons themselves—the human norms were unlikely to starve in a week for the prospect of rescue in a decade.
“Those towns and villages without such items to trade may offer tribute maidens,” Althene continued. “Fertile females under the age of twenty should be best suited, I think.”
“Agreed. Although we may have to delay its implementation until after Breedmaster Caius has his breeding stock. For the long run it will save time, grief, and most of all, ammunition, to trade rather than raid. It will even establish some sort of peace, however uneasy, between the conquerors and the conquered.”
“You are thinking of Brigadier-General Cummings,” Althene said.
“I think of very little else, of late. First the Fomoria, then the attack on Firebase One. If trade allows us to undermine the support for his resistance one iota, then trade is the order of the day.”
Neither he nor Althene mentioned those enclaves of Haven survivors who had neither industry, nor technology, nor maidens to offer in trade—neither needed to. Having nothing the new masters of Haven needed or wanted was to be a death sentence in the years to come. They would need to do no more than turn their back to carry it out.
“In regards to breeding facilities,” Althene asked, “will there be more fortifications built at the Citadel for them?”
Diettinger considered that for a moment. “It may not be necessary; structures would only attract the attention of the cattle. The last thing I want is to be surprised by another attack like the last one, only directed at our next generation. I have an idea that I will bring up at the next Staff meeting; Survey needs time to verify data on possible living spaces. By then Combat Engineering will have the completed damage and repair estimates for the Citadel as well.”
Diettinger consulted the chronometer implant in his skull—what is the value of this simple device now? The things we once took for granted...
He held out his hand. “Come, my Lady. Back to work.”
Lady Althene rose and took his hand. Together they headed back toward the bunker. Diettinger believed he was successful in keeping her from seeing the figure he had picked out on the breastworks, the powerful two-and-a-half meter, sinewy bulk of a Cyborg. A silhouette against the setting sun, spying on them.