Inferno: A Chronicle of a Distant World (The Galactic Comedy) (16 page)

Still, these were minor irritations to the President-For-Life, nothing more. His reign of terror continued unabated until two unrelated events occurred that, although no one knew it at the time, marked the beginning of his downfall.

First, with the last of his foreign currency spent on armaments, Labu found that he was unable to pay his army with anything but totally worthless Faligor dollars. The fifteen billion dollars that the average soldier made each week would no longer buy a single loaf of bread.

Second, he received word that William Barioke, who had been living in exile on neighboring Talisman ever since the coup, had been lobbying both the Talisman government and the Republic to overthrow Labu and restore him to power.

It was, Labu decided, a heaven-sent opportunity to get his army's mind off the fact that their astronomical salaries were worthless. He had amassed some sixty-three spaceships since assuming power. They all sat, fueled, fully-armed, and ready to fly, on the landing strip at the Remus spaceport. It seemed the perfect opportunity to put them to use, assuage his army, and replenish his empty coffers by plundering another planet.

The morning after he heard the rumors about Barioke, President-For-Life Gama Labu declared war on Talisman.

17.

"You know," said Beddoes, sitting across the dinner table from Cartright, "this could be the best thing that ever happened to Faligor."

"How can you say that?" replied Cartright. "Nobody wins in a war."

"Nonsense, Arthur. That sounds great in a university lecture or a book, but the fact is that someone always wins. Who do you think writes the history books? The winners." She paused to take a bite of her food and swallow it. "I think Labu's in over his head this time."

"I don't know," said Cartright. "Talisman's economy is very little better than our own, and I don't remember anything about their having an effective military machine. I hope you're not counting on the Republic rushing to their aid; that ruler of theirs—that President Byamula—keeps turning down Man's overtures. More politely than Faligor, to be sure, but just as firmly."

"Look," said Beddoes, "it's populated by an alien race, and the Canphor Twins and Lodin XI and all the others are looking for allies against the Republic. The very fact that Byamula is under attack by a madman and the Republic
won't
help should mean that a few dozen other alien worlds will leap to his defense."

"And what if they do?" asked Cartright. "What then?"

"Then Gama Labu's days are numbered."

"So what? Talisman will take over Faligor, and we'll have another military dictatorship."

"Talisman can't afford to do that," said Beddoes. "It can barely afford to keep its own government in business."

"Maybe the combined outrage of the Republic and the alien planets will make Labu see reason," Cartright suggested hopefully.

"I don't know why you think it will," replied Beddoes. "Nothing else has."

"He's always played one side against the other," answered Cartright. "He's never really been in a position where everyone is against him."

"I doubt that he's losing any sleep over it," said Beddoes. "No, our best hope is for Talisman to form some quick alliances and decimate the invading forces."

"If it hasn't already fallen," replied Cartright gloomily.

"We're not talking about the Republic invading a planet with twenty million men and turning the sky black with battleships. These are two impoverished worlds, both ill-equipped for war on a planetary scale. It's not going to end that fast."

"But if Talisman gets the help it needs . . ."

"Moses Byamula is a proud man. He won't ask for help until he knows he needs it. That could take a day, or a week, or a month. Or maybe we're wrong, and he's capable of winning a war without any help at all."

"You make it sound like a problem in logic, Susan," said Cartright. "But it isn't—it's war. Right now it's taking place on Talisman, but if they fight off the invasion, the next battle will be fought here." He stared across the table at her. "Have you ever been in a war? I have, and take it from me, it's not pleasant."

"Neither is what's happened to Faligor since Labu gained power."

"That's for damned sure," agreed Cartright with a sigh. "Ah, well, there's no sense arguing about it. What will be, will be. Perhaps I should turn on the holo and see if we've received any news about it yet."

She stared at him and shook her head sadly. "Poor Arthur. You still think of this as the world you wanted it to be, rather than the world it is."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'll tell you right now what the broadcasts will say. They'll say that we're winning victory after glorious victory, that we're advancing on the enemy and he is sustaining massive losses, that President Byamula has gone into hiding, and that victory is within our grasp." She paused. "They'll keep saying it right up to the moment that Byamula's forces land on Faligor and march into Labu's mansion."

"Yes, I suppose they will. Still, it can't hurt to see what's on."

He activated the holo, and true to Beddoes' prediction, the announcers predicted an imminent victory.

Then there was an insert of Gama Labu, stating that he personally abhorred war and would call it off as soon as Talisman agreed to surrender the traitor William Barioke to Faligor, and to pay the equivalent of two billion Republic credits as a penalty for harboring such a fugitive. Until Talisman's cowardly president met those two demands, the war would continue.

When the broadcast went back to offering obviously inflated counts of the enemy's losses, Cartright turned the set off.

"Surprised?" asked Beddoes humorlessly.

"Puzzled."

"Oh? What about?"

"Why doesn't Moses Byamula just turn Barioke over to us?"

"We also demanded extortion money to withdraw our army, remember?" said Beddoes.

"I'm sure it's negotiable," answered Cartright. "What Labu really wants is Barioke."

"That's not so, Arthur. He also wants an external enemy, so people don't start looking at him when their money's no good and the electricity doesn't work and the water won't run."

"All the more reason why Byamula should give Barioke to Labu. I would."

"Perhaps," said Beddoes dryly, "that's why you're not the president of Talisman."

18.

Talisman was prepared for the attack. It had given refuge to literally tens of thousands of jasons, many of them government officials who had fallen from favor and had much information to trade in exchange for sanctuary.

Furthermore, Labu's ill-trained pilots were barely able to find Talisman, let alone their targets, and most of the initial rain of bombs fell into an ocean and onto an uninhabited desert. About half the weaponry Labu had purchased was in poor shape or else was incompatible with the ammunition he had bought for it.

The Talisman forces were no better equipped, but they were better trained, and within hours of the attack, more than half of Faligor's fleet had been decimated and the rest found itself fighting for its life.

Finally the commander of the flagship, a General Dushu, broke off his engagement and fled back to Faligor, followed by the twelve surviving ships of his Navy, and the first phase of the war was over.

Moses Byamula, the President of Talisman, went before a meeting of the planetary heads of the Canphorite Federation, composed of some thirty-eight alien races, and asked for their support in his war against Gama Labu. The Federation went into private executive session, and emerged a few hours later with a statement condemning Labu's actions but stopping short of offering any tangible aid to Talisman.

Byamula next contacted the Republic, hoping for arms or money to pay for arms, and received only a similar statement of moral support.

Labu, for his part, was changing religions almost by the hour, looking for aid in exchange to his fealty to an alien god, but it was an old stunt and it didn't play well. Within days he was faced with the fact that almost every race in the galaxy had publicly condemned his act of aggression.

Hoping to save face, he offered a quick solution to the problem: Rather than risking further bloodshed on the battlefield, he proposed that Byamula—the leader of a race that averaged less than ninety pounds at maturity—meet him in the boxing ring, the victor to be declared the winner of the war as well.

Byamula's response was to launch a full-scale attack at Faligor. Realizing that his navy was not up to the kind of saturation bombing required for a quick and easy victory, he used them as transport ships, landing tens of thousands of his soldiers in the western desert. They secured the area, and every three days saw still more soldiers deposited there, until a substantial force had been assembled. They then turned to the east and began marching toward Remus. On those occasions that Labu's ill-trained forces met them in battle, the jasons were quickly defeated; more often, upon hearing of Talisman army's approach, the jasons simply threw down their arms and fled in the opposite direction.

Village after village turned out to greet the conquering army, to offer them food and encouragement and words of gratitude. By the time they were within a two-week march of Romulus and Remus, they had been joined by some thirty thousand jasons, many armed with nothing more than bows and arrows.

Labu soon realized that his army was not up to the task of halting the enemy, and he came up with the unique notion of bombing every jason village between the advancing army and Remus in the hope that the enemy would run out of food before they ran out of ground. The net result was eighty thousand jason casualties, and an enemy more convinced than ever that Right was on their side and that they had almost a sacred obligation to defeat Labu.

When they were camped forty miles outside of Remus, Labu ordered the burning of the Treasury and the Mint, so that his conquerors would find no money to loot—not that it was worth anything, anyway—and, under cover of night, he drove to his private spaceship, accompanied by George Witherspoon and three of his wives. Once there, he radioed his assurances to his army that he would soon be personally leading a counterattack, ordered his officers to shoot any deserters, and, as his last official act as President-For-Life, pulled a small pistol out of his belt and shot Witherspoon point-blank between the eyes.

By dawn, Labu was halfway to distant Domar, having once again converted to their ancient religion of
Rainche
.

19.

The road to Remus was strewn with flowers and corpses.

Talisman's army reached the city at noon, to the wild cheers of the populace, which had watched the rout of their own army some five hours earlier. The fighting continued for another three weeks, until the Talisman generals decided that the remnants of Labu's forces that had not yet been captured or surrendered offered no serious threat.

Journalists from all across the galaxy were allowed entry to Faligor, and finally the full extent of Labu's excesses became known. Some five thousand mass graves were unearthed, with the certainty that there were an equal number still to be found. The Government Science Center was dismantled after it was found to be the seven-story chamber of horrors that the locals suspected it to be. More than fifty dismembered jason bodies were found in the basement of the presidential mansion, while Labu's private quarters were stocked with children's games and picture books he had imported from the Republic over the years.

Finally, after order had been restored, Moses Byamula himself flew to Faligor, accompanied by William Barioke. Byamula announced to a gathering of more than one hundred thousands jasons in Remus that he was no conqueror, that he had no interest in administering the affairs of any world other than his own, and that his soldiers would return home as soon as the new government was once again in possession of the reins of power. He then concluded that his only official act was to return the duly elected President of Faligor, William Barioke, to whom he had given sanctuary during Labu's reign.

Byamula then stepped aside, and Barioke, looking far older and much thinner than he had prior to his exile, walked up to a bank of microphones.

"The reign of terror has ended," announced Barioke to the wildly enthusiastic throng of jasons. "Gama Labu has been defeated, and Faligor's long nightmare has ended, never to return." The cheers were so loud that Barioke had to wait almost five minutes before he could make himself heard once more.

"Never again will jason be pitted against jason. Never again will an oppressed citizenry cringe in fear from the authorities who have been elected and appointed to serve them. Never again will jason infants grow up with the screams of the dying and the stench of the dead. A new day has dawned for Faligor." He signaled to a jason officer, who was standing at attention. "You!" he said, and then pointed to the statue of Conrad Bland, that dominated the city center. "See to it that that statue is torn down before sunset!" Still more cheers. "I also want every park, every lake, every river, and every street that Gama Labu named after himself restored to their original titles."

"How soon will you want that done, sir?" asked the officer.

"Today," said Barioke firmly. "Tomorrow we've got a constitution to write and a planet to rebuild."

The applause was deafening, and though Barioke then left the platform to confer with his advisors, the celebration that followed continued well into the night.

Part 3:

SHARD

Interlude

You pass the ruins of a hospital, smell the charred bodies within, cover your nose, and keep walking.

And as you walk, you keep asking yourself: How could they not have learned? The whole galaxy knew about Gama Labu. Once the jasons got rid of him, how could they have let it happen again? Where were they when the torture chambers were rebuilt, the massive trenches filled once more with bodies?

These were intelligent people. They had to know what was happening, had to feel the same revulsion toward Labu that all sentient beings felt.