“For one, I’ll need communications facilities. Ketalaman took out my own headquarters. Your
fine ship here, the Galaxy Shenandoah, should be able to provide what I need admirably.”
Not an eye blinked around the table. There was not the least whisper of reaction to his probe.
“Or wherever it is that we are,” Harconan went on. “I will also need some promises.”
“Such as?”
Harconan leaned against the edge of the briefing table, putting emphasis on each
word. “I want your word, Admiral, and that of Captain Garrett, that my people will be
protected, my captains, my crews, my clan chiefs, my agents. They will fight
under your command, not Kediri’s. You will, in turn, guarantee them anonymity. Their identities will not be
handed over to the government.”
Amanda and MacIntyre again engaged in a silent visual conference. “Accepted,” MacIntyre replied. “What else?”
“If I actively begin assisting you, Ketalaman will know about it. He will
retaliate against the Bugi colonies within his reach. I want your guarantees
that, to the fullest extent of your capacities, you will assist in the
protection of my noncombatants.”
This time it was Amanda who replied. “You have my promise.”
“That will be satisfactory.”
“You don’t mention anything about immunity for yourself,” MacIntyre said.
The taipan shrugged and grinned. “A minor matter to be discussed at a later date.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed and the faintest hint of a rueful smile tugged at her lips. “I’ve got one more question for you, Makara. I know you’re in very deep with the leadership of Morning Star Liberation Movement on New
Guinea. Just how much so?”
“I’ve supported their cause and they’ve supported mine,” Harconan replied with caution. “I’ve delivered them arms and I’ve done them other favors here and there.”
“Will they listen to you? Can you influence them?”
“I can put you in contact with certain of the tribal counsels. And, if my advice
is asked for, I will give it.”
Amanda and her Admiral exchanged another protracted look and MacIntyre nodded
minutely. Then he looked back to Harconan. “All provisions accepted, Mr. Harconan.”
Harconan returned to his chair at the briefing table. The Admiral had spoken. Provisionally, he was on board and a member of the team.
But the Marine sentries still remained at the door.
“Captain Garrett,” MacIntyre continued. “This is your package. Bring the Operations Group up to speed on what we’ve been looking at.”
“Yes, sir.” She rose from her chair and walked the length of the table, brushing past Harconan without looking at him.
“Go to full map view, please.”
The large screen display flicked to a full imaging of the Indonesian Archipelago. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you know from our sociopolitical database on Indonesia, a key aspect of national discontent has been a perceived Java-centricity within the Jakarta government. In this instance, it’s valid. The island of Java and the capital of Jakarta are at the very heart of this conflict. The side that controls Java and Jakarta will win.
“At the moment, the question who exactly controls what is still up in the air. The rebels are in nominal possession of the capital city, but fighting between rebel and government forces is ongoing across the rest of Java. Our assessment is that neither side has an adequate block of ground forces on the island to secure it. The classic doctrine of ‘Who gets there fustest with the mostest’ will decide the outcome of this battle.
“In this, the rebels currently have the edge.” Amanda’s hand drifted from Java across the Sunda Strait. “Their primary base of power and the bulk of their reserve formations on Sumatra, right next door, while the government’s loyal troops are scattered throughout the islands, especially on New Guinea at the far eastern end of the archipelago.
“The basic strategic equation is simple. We must use the assets available to us to slow the rate of rebel reinforcement while accelerating that of the government. The distance factors can be leveled by outside airlift, ours and that of the other Regional Intervention Force powers. That will not exceed our existing rules of engagement.
“As for the rest? That will be up to us.”
Washington D.C.
0452 Hours; Zone Time, November 5, 2008
Secretary of State Harrison Van Linden didn’t much enjoy diplomacy by video. He was both a statesman and a poker player of the old school. He preferred direct eye to eye contact with his opposite number.
Modern telecommunications also put you at the mercy of time zones. Diplomacy and discretion dictated that one had to give the other fellow the decent night’s sleep.
Van Linden had elected to conduct this video conference from his own office at the State Department. Per force, it must be an off-the-cuff piece of work, if for no other reason than President Kediri’s “Capital City” was now the USS Pelelieu holding at anchor in Benoa Port.
“Mr. Secretary, the President of Indonesia is standing by on-line,” the communication officer’s voice issued from the speaker of his desk videophone deck.
Van Linden snuck a last sip of strong black coffee and passed the cup and saucer to an aide outside of the camera. His Chief of Staff was present in the room as well, as well as a staffer with a networked laptop balanced on her knees, ready to call up and feed him any required information from the crisis database.
There would be another observer as well, one not physically present. President Childress would be monitoring both ends of the call from the White House.
“Put President Kediri through, please, and record.”
“Very good, Mr. Secretary.”
The phone’s small flat screen flicked over from the State Department seal to an image of a briefing room aboard the Regional Intervention Force flagship.
President Kediri sat stony-faced in the foreground of the screen. The Indonesian Foreign Minister and the Golkar Party Chairman flanked him, each man wearing translator headsets. A handful of other Indonesian officials and senior military officers occupied the other seats in the briefing room, refugees rallied from locations outside of Jakarta. This was the only remnant remaining of the standing national government. The question was: was it enough of a seed to grow again?
“Good day, Mr. President,” Van Linden began. “I hope that you are well and that our accommodations and facilities have been
adequate.”
“Your military has been most helpful, Mr. Secretary,” Kediri replied stiffly. “We have been able to re-establish communications with those elements of our armed forces still faithful to the true government. We survive, but the situation is critical.”
