Shoot to kill.

That was the policy I adopted in my directive. I took particular pains and was unequivocal in my position that the object of shooting was to kill. Not to frighten or to chasten. Not to constitute a show of force. But to kill. I needed a sufficiently high body count to get my message across - clearly, explicitly and in terms that anyone could understand.

There were four contingencies when the policy should be applied:

1. Failure to obey written orders.

2. Failure to obey verbal orders.

3. Failure to submit to search and seizure.

4. Harboring, sheltering, maintaining or "countenancing" a relationship with a blaspheme.

In essence this was a blank check, containing no real limitations. My forces were free to act as they saw fit, with an implicit understanding that if any doubt whatsoever existed in their minds, they should kill.

I estimated that it would take four or five days to bring the situation under control. A total kill of ten to twelve thousand. The first day or two would be the worst. The situation would still be fluid, the dynamics capable of breaking in any of several different directions. After that, after we had demonstrated the seriousness of our intent, I expected things to go relatively smoothly.

The first day, Adjutant Barnes brought me in a comprehensive report on the operation. I quickly picked out the figure for kills for the initial twenty-four hours. I was surprised.

"Eight thousand seven hundred," I said. I looked at AdBar. "That sounds high."

"That would depend, Mr Secretary." AdBar inclined his head. "In terms of the actual population it is not a particularly significant figure."

I mulled this over in silence. "How accurate is this? How much error is inherent in the count?"

"That is a hard number, Mr Secretary. That body count has been confirmed both through subcom in the field and several independent sources. Those are known dead. The actual number is undoubtedly higher."

I read the remainder of the report and concluded that, in general, things were going satisfactorily.

"Issue a general directive to our forces," I said. "Commend them on a job well done. They are to maintain a heightened state of vigilance at all times and work toward reestablishing order as quickly as possible. Their orders remain to execute their mission with severity." I paused. AdBar did not appear to react to this. "With severity," I repeated. "Include that in the commendation."

The kill figure for the second day was 13,800. This was unexpected. I was anticipating something in line with the first day's figure. Eight or nine thousand. An increase meant that we were not getting our message across. Either the populace was hardening into opposition against the operation--a possibility I considered and then discounted--or we had failed to act with sufficient ruthlessness. This was easily remedied and I took steps immediately to up the ante.

"AdBar, rescind my directive limiting the use of weaponry to conventional arms. Anti-personnel weapons and flame throwers are to be released and employed in instances where circumstances warrant. Determining these circumstances is the sole discretion of commanders in the field." These were men whom I had appointed personally and who I deemed best suited to gauge the actual situation as it existed. In general they subscribed to the doctrine of responding to resistance with overwhelming force.

"In instances of disobedience involving groups," I continued, aware of rumours that not all of the resistance my forces were encountering was that of individuals acting alone, "I authorize the use of helicopter gunships." Sometimes simply killing a bunch of people was not sufficient. Death alone could not quell the most extreme fanaticism. But the means of death, the nature of injuries and wounds inflicted, could make a statement and leave a lasting impression. The gunships overhead; that was our ace in the hole. They would signal that we had taken the gloves off.

The body count for the third day was 78,400. This was disturbing. The operation was not proceeding as I had planned or anticipated. It was, in fact, spiraling out of control.

"What the hell is the matter with these people," I lashed out. "Do they want to die? I've made it plain to anyone who's paying attention that we are playing for keeps. How can I make a more emphatic statement than I've already made."

"Perhaps more people need to die," AdBar suggested equably.

I looked at the Adjutant. For one wild moment it actually crossed my mind that AdBar was baiting me. Making a sardonic observation about the rising death toll. Then I dismissed it out of hand. AdBar had carried out all the orders I had issued promptly and with exactitude. He had never quibbled or hesitated or interjected his own opinion into the process. He had been the perfect subordinate: efficient and self-effacing. I was beginning to wonder if something wasn't wrong with the man.

"Kill more people, is that the answer?" I said, frustrated and angry. "I've killed what - a hundred thousand? Where does it end? At what point do they capitulate and submit to our demands? What will it take to reach their threshold of pain?"

AdBar appeared confused. He was not prepared to have questions thrown at him. Sharp, concise, definitive statements was the milieu in which he was used to operating. Any ambiguity threw him off his stride. He made a poor sounding board and it occurred to me that it was perhaps a mistake to surround myself with such people.

"Success is only a matter of time, Mr Secretary. They have to be taught a lesson." AdBar stated this calmly and without any apparent reservation. He sounded eerily like me--three days ago.

"Give them another day of it," I said and I tried to sound firm and self-assured. "Full bore, without let up. Then we'll see."

The fourth day the death toll came in at seventeen thousand. And change. AdBar showed his first hint of emotion.

"Things appear to be going our way, Mr Secretary. The streets are clear, the body count is dropping."

We had cowed the population. That was all that that meant. They had, finally, after a merciless beating, withdrawn inside and conceded the streets to my forces. It was a tactical victory of sorts. But it was not the victory that I had been looking for.

"What are the figures on compliance? The voluntary rate at which people are surrendering their blasphemes?"

Blasphemes, of course, were the genetically engineered pets introduced by the Chinese. They possessed a virulently addictive trait that had resulted in plummeting productivity, high rates of absenteeism and a general disregard and disrespect for the work ethic. They could not be tolerated.

AdBar adjusted the collar of his uniform. He appeared highly self-conscious. "Those figures are unavailable, Mr Secretary."

This was military speak for the figures are negligible, inconsequential. It was a polite way of ducking the issue but it told me all that I needed to know. The problem had gone underground. It was still there, still a source of corruption and moral rot. But it was out of the public eye. I could accept that, declare victory, and gradually pull my forces back. Or I could adopt an aggressive approach, a proactive solution, that would entail search and seizure, infiltration, and a network of paid informants. More death, more pain and no assurance of success. It was not a difficult choice.

"Set up roadblocks and manned checkpoints across the city. Increase patrols. Institute a block by block search emphasizing maximum ruthlessness. We'll flush out the recidivists, eliminate them, and incarcerate any adherents, proponents, apologists, or sympathizers. We will not stop, we will not pull back, we will not hesitate or relent until final victory has been achieved."

AdBar's eyes sparkled with admiration and he rushed off to have my directive implemented. I sat back at my desk, exhaled, content to have walked in the paths of righteousness.

One of the tests I apply to any short story I choose is the number of edits I need to make. I made very few to this one. It is, in my view, that rarest of gems--a well-written tale with a message. Your comments?- - g