Free Exile-and Glory by Jerry Pournelle

could he do it?
    "Let me make you a solemn promise," Adams said. "Before anyone—anyone at all—takes control of this Station away from us, there's going to be a regrettable nuclear accident. The only thing left of Otjiwar will be a pile of radioactive slag even less useful than the Namib was before we got here."
    " Ja ." Von Alten nodded vigorously. "So, Mr. Prime Minister Tsandi, you think on that for a while. With no Station, you got all those people came here, others coming through your country to get here, and they got nothing to eat, ja? You think maybe they come looking for you with blood in their eye for sending them here?"
    "Whereas, if you'll close your borders and stop this infiltration, Rondidi can benefit quite a lot," Adams finished smoothly. "You've got iron ore in your hills, more than here in Namibia. It'll take a while to develop, but we can get a railroad in there to bring it here."
    "Why would you do that?" Tsandi asked. He saw Ifnoka's scowl and winced, but continued to look expectantly at Adams and von Alten.
    "For profits, of course," von Alten said. "His Lordship the Bishop got other motives, but us, we want profits. We make you a pretty good deal to get them, too."
    Tsandi nodded. This he could understand. But there was Ifnoka's Union group and the coup he was undoubtedly planning in the army . . . .
    "Another thing," von Alten snorted. "Seems I got me forty, fifty thousand submachine guns. Some good rifles, too. I wonder, Mr. Prime Minister of Rondidi, if you want some of those guns for your own party people, for your police too, ja?"
    "What?" The monosyllable was jerked from Tsandi's lips. He looked fearfully at Ifnoka.
    "Ja, we got the guns," von Alten said. "Already in Rondidi we got them. When Mr. Adams says smuggle in guns to Rondidi, me, I do it. I think maybe we organize a coup, only now I see what he really wants, ja?"
    Adams smiled tightly. "They can be distributed before either of you gentlemen get back to your capital. By the way, I'm sorry but the airfield's got some problems. Undermined by an aquifer, I understand. Unusable . . ."
    "An aquifer?" Father Percy said carefully. He looked out at the barren desert. "I see." He suppressed a chuckle, but it was very loud in the still room.
    "All you have to do is name the Cabinet people you want to distribute the guns," Adams said. "We'll see that they get them."
    Ifnoka roared and charged out of the room. The door slammed behind him but didn't catch. Courtney went over to close it.
    "Well, Mr. Prime Minister?" Adams said. "Of course we'd like your Minister of Trade to have a say in who gets those guns. Good man, that."
    "What do you want?" Tsandi demanded. His tone was listless, flat.
    "For the guns?" von Alten asked.
    "You can't arm Rondidi!" Bloomfort exploded. "What's to keep Tsandi from taking the guns and still getting together with Ifnoka? Using them against Namibia?"
    "Oh, he wouldn't do that," Adams said carefully. "Invasion of Namibia's a dream anyway. The Republic of South Africa wouldn't care to see an actual armed invasion of their showpiece descendant. Infiltration's one thing, open war's quite another."
    "And who'd develop the iron ore?" Joe Bentley asked.
    "Yeah. It does Rondidi no good." Adams stood at the head of the table. His smile was cordial and he spoke warmly to Tsandi, but Courtney saw his pale blue eyes were as cold as ice. "The Station was deliberately put a long way from cities. It won't fall to small arms. And everyone gains from the Station except Ifnoka. His whole power structure's built on poverty and promises. Now we're not in business to eliminate poverty, but there's no way to make a profit without leaving money behind us, and that upsets him. For the Premier of Rondidi, though, the Station's quite a good thing. What's it to be, sir? A chance to put Rondidi into the modern world, or life in Ifnoka's shadow forever?"
    "I haven't even that choice," Tsandi said. "He's gone to order the military coup he's