Carnifex

2/7/467 AC, Hamilton, FD, FSC

Dating from early in the history of the colonization of Terra Nova, the Federated States' Executive Mansion looked less a home and more a fortress. Within it, in an office marked by golds and greens and tasteful old woods, the President of the FSC conferred with his secretary of war.

"Cut the bullshit, James," said the President of the FSC to his secretary of war. "The war in Pashtia is not going swimmingly. Our 'allies' are not doing their part, despite what you promised me, they promised you, and I promised the people who elected me and the newspapers and television stations that supported me. Right now, the Office of Strategic Intelligence is convinced that Pashtia will fall about two months before mid-term elections. That, my advisors assure me, will cost us both the House and the Senate. Losing those will stymie the social programs we counted on getting passed to be re-elected. All of which means that, unless the Pashtian situation is turned around, we'll all be looking for jobs after that election."

"But Mr. President . . . " Malcolm began.

"Can it, James. No bullshit. We're in trouble and no two ways about it. Now how are you going to fix this and save our skins? And, please, spare me the nonsense about massive formation of TU troops to turn the tide. They're not coming, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. And if they did come they still wouldn't fight."

Malcolm hung his head. He'd been so sure that troops would be forthcoming. He'd been convinced that with the right platitudes, the proper kowtowing to the Tauran Union, the World League, the humanitarian activist NGOs and the world press, he could persuade the Tauros to really commit to the war. He'd been absolutely certain that the Gauls and the Sachsens would really help if only they were approached the right way. He'd been equally certain he had that way.

Bah! I couldn't even talk them into providing what they promised, let alone more. I couldn't talk them into allowing what little they have sent to actually go out of their bases and fight.

This was too uncomfortable a train of thought. Malcolm quickly added the mental amendment, If only the previous administration hadn't so thoroughly poisoned the waters.

He never considered that maybe the water was poisoned to begin with.