A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (24 page)

And Steve would have hated to watch the decline and fall of America
, he thought. 
Perhaps it’s for the best he chose to leave.  He might have been able to convince the Solar Union to intervene ...

Mongo poked him, non-too-gently.  “Do you think we can put assets on Varnar to help make their lives miserable?”

“Probably, but not
that
miserable,” Kevin said, hastily using his implants to replay the last few words of the conversation.  Bute had been suggesting inserting SpecOps teams onto Varnar to cause trouble.  “Their security isn't anything like as bad as it seems.  I happen to know their military bases and government installations are very secure.  We’d be doing nothing more than random terrorism.”

“Then it remains out of the question,” President Ross said, firmly.  “See if you can find ways to cause trouble, Kevin, but I don’t want a repeat of 9/11, let alone Oakland or San Diego.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Kevin said. 

“Assuming everything goes according to plan, we will open a War Cabinet to assume overall direction of the war,” the President added.  “This council will be wound down, the files sealed for the next one hundred years.  And then, no doubt, we will be very embarrassed when the truth comes out.”

Kevin smirked.  One hundred years, on Earth, was long enough for everyone to be safely dead, but he was already pushing one hundred and the others weren't that far behind.  The files would need to be secure for much longer ... and would have been, if there weren't laws intended to prevent excessive government secrecy.  Even one hundred years was pushing the envelope.

Steve would never have approved
, he thought. 
But then, Steve didn't know how to compromise either.  He saw compromise as a dirty word
.

“By then, we will all be out of politics,” Bute said.  Politicians had somewhere between five to ten years in politics at the most.  “We will be yesterday’s news.”

“And thank god for that,” Marie snapped.  “Do you know they ran a feature on what kind of bloody shoes I wear every day?  Apparently, the economy rises and falls on what I happen to pick to wear on my feet!”

“It depends,” Bute said.  “How many pairs of shoes do you buy?”

“I could outfit everyone in my Canton with shoes,” Marie said, “and I doubt it would cause more than a blip in the economy.”

The President sighed.  “I expect you all to take a role in presenting the case for war,” he continued.  “Unless you feel otherwise, in which case now would be a good time to say so.”

“I don’t like the idea of fighting an enemy so much stronger than ourselves,” Bute said, “but I don’t see that we have a choice.  The Tokomak are unlikely to accept anything other than complete and unconditional surrender.”

“If that,” Kevin said. 

He scowled in bitter memory.  The Galactics had laws against genocide ... but a handful of species
had
gone missing, over the centuries.  Kevin had a private suspicion that the long-gone races had been seen as threats or potential challengers ... and, as such, had been destroyed long before they could become dangerous.  If the Galactics realised just how far humanity had advanced, after capturing a single ancient starship and her crew, they would probably start launching planet-busters at Earth.

Shame we can't get more of their records
, he thought,
but most of the Tokomak archives are sealed, closed to anyone who isn't one of them.  It might answer a few of our questions.

The Tokomak Empire was ancient, by human standards; it had maintained itself and its culture for over four thousand years.  No human polity had ever managed to keep itself in stasis for so long.  But four thousand years – or
forty thousand
– was nothing compared to the life of the universe.  It was generally estimated that the universe was over thirteen
billion
years old.  There could have been thousands of empires on the same scale – or greater – in the period between the birth of the universe and the Tokomak.

They could have been the lucky ones who figured out the gravity drive
, he thought.  It wasn't unknown for races to trap themselves in a technological cul-de-sac, only to get an unpleasant surprise when they encountered their more advanced neighbours. 
But over such a long space of time, is that even possible
?

He set the thought aside as the President dismissed the council, warning them all to be present at the joint assembly.  Kevin groaned at the thought – his role wasn't a complete secret, but he preferred to stay out of the spotlight – then concentrated on planning ways to approach Mr. Ando.  Or, perhaps, his assistant.  Sally didn't have a security file, which suggested she was nothing more than what she seemed, a young human girl who had accepted a chance to live and work hundreds of light years from home. 

But where
, he asked himself,
would her loyalties lie
?

“This could be it,” Mongo said.  “Our very existence hanging by a thread.”

Kevin sighed, inwardly.  Steve and Mongo were very similar, even though neither of them would have admitted it.  They would have been happier fighting beside Bowie and Travis at the Battle of the Alamo than negotiating a peace both sides could live with.  There was, after all, something more dramatic about a desperate last stand than a peaceful talk at the negotiation table.  Kevin had always been the odd one out, in many ways.  Queen Elizabeth’s observation that wars were chancy things had always resonated with him.  

But sometimes the war had to be fought, because there was no hope of a reasonable compromise.

“Yeah,” he said.  “And let us pray we win, because defeat will be terrible.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

A student was arrested yesterday in Manchester, United Kingdom, for poisoning over four hundred of his schoolmates.  According to his testimonial, published online, he was bullied from the day he set foot in the school until the day he dumped poison in the free school dinners.  Seventy students have reportedly died, while the rest remain in critical condition.  Speaking in Parliament, MPs condemned the easy availability of poison and vowed new legislation to ban its purchase by anyone without a licence.

-Solar News Network, Year 53

“Do you think we’re allowed to talk about the ...
incident
... now?”

“I don’t think so,” Yolanda said.  “Didn't you get the same lecture?”

Martin nodded.  Captain Lockland had lined up his Marines and told them, in no uncertain terms, that they weren't to breathe a word of their successful operation, on pain of being charged with High Treason and shot.  He rather doubted the officer was joking, given just what they’d done.  The Galactics could not be allowed to find out what had happened to their starship.

“So we keep our mouths shut,” he said.  “And vote, it would seem.”

He shook his head in disbelief.  Back in the ghetto, there was no such thing as public participation, unless it was in carefully-staged riots designed to pressure the politicians into sending more loot to the rulers.  The community organisers delivered votes, on demand, to their friends in Washington; the fact that hardly anyone had bothered to vote was neither here nor there.  But the Solar Union expected – it demanded – that it citizens play a part in governing themselves.  Martin was still having problems trying to wrap his head around the concept.

The message had arrived two hours ago, informing them that a joint session of Congress and the Senate would be held, followed by a vote.  There had been no declared subject, but after what they’d done, Martin was fairly sure it had something to do with the Tokomak.  The government wouldn't have kidnapped an entire ship, along with its surviving crew, unless they had a long-term idea in mind.  Unlike Earth, the Solar Union’s politicians couldn't stand for re-election time and time again.  They had some interest in doing the right thing.

“But we should hear the debates first,” Yolanda said.  “And then make up our minds.”

Martin rolled his eyes.  They were sharing a suite in the most expensive hotel on Gunn Asteroid – which wasn't saying very much – but their minds were elsewhere, drinking in the endless flow of information from the datanet.  Martin found it more than a little scary, if he were forced to tell the truth; it was hard, sometimes, to know where he ended and the datanet began.  He’d been told there were people who uploaded themselves into computer cores, becoming
Homo Electronic. 
It sickened him – it seemed nothing less than a form of suicide – and yet he could see the attraction.  What would he do to have a VR chamber of his own where his merest whim became reality?

But it wouldn't be real
, he told himself.  He could create a scenario where he had a harem, where the girls were all willing lovers, but it wouldn't be
real
.  And yet, with direct feeds to his brain, would he know the difference?  It was a terrifying thought.  Someone could be hooked up to a machine and left to enjoy it, while their bodies wasted away in the real world.  It was, he’d learned, how certain forms of mental disease were treated.  But it was still sickening.

An alert flashed into his implants, informing him the debate was about to begin.  He lay back on the bed, then accessed the government datanet.  An illusion played into his mind, a giant impossibly-huge chamber where the politicians and their watchers sat together, ready to hear what the President had to say.  There was no such chamber in the Solar Union, he knew, if only because the politicians rarely gathered in person.  It was really nothing more than a perceptual reality, designed to allow people to believe they were truly participating.

He looked from side to side.  Yolanda’s avatar was nothing more than a representation of her true form, as was his own, but others were far less hesitant about presenting themselves as something they weren't.  There were giant men, inhumanly beautiful women, countless people wearing avatars that belonged to fictional characters – he lost count of the number of people pretending to be Captain Picard, Harry Potter or Marian of Sherwood – and no shortage of outright monsters.  It looked as though they couldn't have fitted into the chamber but it was just a perceptual reality.  The chamber was as large as it needed to be.

A message popped up in front of him. 
Hey, big boy
, it said. 
Want to fuck
?

Piss off
, Martin sent back, then blocked the sender.  What was the
point
of having sex in a perceptual reality?  Being able to do taboo acts wasn't worth the knowledge that it just wasn't
real
.  Besides, there were few true taboos in the Solar Union and most of the population clung to the ones that remained.  He didn't really want to spend time pretending he was something he wasn't, not when he could be having sex in real life.  Or was it just another example of how humans constantly pushed the limits?

He shook his head, then looked back at Yolanda.  Her avatar looked annoyed, which suggested she had received her fair share of unwanted propositions too.  Martin wanted to hug her, to reassure her that everyone would be fine, but he couldn't find the words.  Silence washed out a moment later, almost a physical effect, as the President appeared in the centre of the chamber.  The magic of the perceptual reality made him seem as though he was also standing right next to Martin himself.

And what is the point of buying the best seats in the house
, he asked himself,
if a perceptual reality can make it seem as though you’re in the front row, or singing with the band?

“Citizens of the Solar Union,” the President said.  “A major crisis has arisen in our affairs.”

There was a long pause.  Martin’s implants reported files suddenly making themselves available to him.  Side notes indicated that literally billions of downloads had been made within the first twenty seconds of availability.  He copied the files to his implants, then pushed them to the rear of his awareness.  They could wait until the President had finished speaking.

“Ever since the Foundation, we have known about the Tokomak – and the threat they might one day pose to us,” the President continued.  “The day we feared has come.  They intend to wage war on us, until the human race is crushed into submission or destroyed.  We have no choice, but to take the offensive and meet them in deep space.”

He paused.  Martin wondered if he was waiting for them to read the files.

“We have a plan, but we must act fast,” the President concluded.  “This is no time for half measures.  We must gird our loins and commit ourselves to war.

“There are details I cannot share,” he added.  “They must not become known to the enemy ahead of time.  And they will, if they are discussed in public.  I ask for your trust and your confidence that we can win the war, that we can and should fight.  I thank you.”

He stepped down and waited.  After a moment, another figure appeared in the centre of the room.  An ID stream identified him as Senator Bin Elliot, a combination of names that could only have occurred in the Solar Union.  The profile that popped into Martin’s implants told him that the Senator was only a third of the way into his sole term, but already known for being a strict Isolationist.  He didn't want any further involvement with Earth, let alone the Galactics.

“The universe is a big place, Mr. President,” he said.  “I will not deny that the Tokomak have built themselves an impressive empire.  I will not deny that they may pose a threat to us.  But I do question the value of having us start a war with them, when there is plenty of room in the galaxy for
hundreds
of separate races.  Let us withdraw our mercenaries from the Coalition and allow them to continue their war, as they have done for hundreds of years.  We do not need to involve ourselves in their war.”

There was a pause.  “The fact remains,” the President said, “that it takes two to make a peace, but only one to make a war.  They have decided to make war on us.  We do not get to tell them to piss off and go home” – a handful of chuckles ran through the chamber – “unless we give them enough of a black eye to make them think twice.  They are unlikely to accept anything from us, unless it is unconditional surrender.

“We do not know what they would do to us, if we did surrender.  They might treat us, to all intents and purposes, as a spacefaring race like the Varnar.  We would be their servants, their slaves, but we would be alive.  Or we might be ordered to return to the hellhole called Earth and shut down our space program.  Or we might simply be destroyed.

“We are a disruptive race, Senator.  Within fifty years of discovering the technology to venture out into the galaxy, we have upset quite a few apple carts.  The endless Varnar-Coalition War may be coming to an end, because of us.  The trading unions may be being undercut, because of us.  And some of our technological improvements, based on their technology, may upset the whole galaxy.  I am not sanguine about their treatment of us, once we surrender to them.  They may simply destroy us, root and branch, breaking their own laws to get rid of a potentially fatal threat.

“Perhaps, if we had chosen isolation fifty years ago, and contented ourselves with destroying every Horde starship that visited Earth, this could have been avoided,” he concluded.  “But instead we chose to spread into the galaxy.  And, in doing so, we eventually attracted attention from the so-called masters of the universe.  They see us as a threat, Senator, one that they have to squash.  There is no hope of peace
and
freedom, merely the peace of submission – or the grave.”

It was a convincing argument, Martin knew ... but he'd grown up in the ghetto, where the law of the jungle reigned supreme.  Choosing not to fight, when challenged, wasn't an option.  It was kill or be killed ... and escape was impossible.  The Tokomak would mistake an offer of peace for a sign of weakness and move as fast as they could to capitalise on it.  They certainly wouldn't believe humanity was offering to talk peace out of
strength
.

But would it convince the others?  He watched the live feed as pollsters kept trying to track the ebb and flow of the debate, tuning out the other candidates as he monitored the public reaction.  It seemed hard to be sure which way the public would vote; unlike on Earth, where the polls were untrustworthy at best, the Solar Union kept flipping between peace or war.  He couldn't help thinking that made their polls so much more reliable, but it was immensely frustrating.  By the time the President called for the vote, dozens of politicians had had their say ... while thousands of civilians had weighed in on the public networks.   Some people were even posting tactical analysis statements, pointing out that the Tokomak outgunned humanity by a million to one ...

Not everyone agrees
, Martin thought. 
They’d have to concentrate their ships in one place first, before taking the offensive.  That would take years ...

“This is fascinating,” Yolanda muttered to him, on a private messaging channel.  “I could lose myself here.”

“I think some people do,” Martin said.  His nanotech could keep him alive and healthy for years, if necessary.  He could easily spend all of his time trying to keep up with discussions on a handful of online forums, if he wanted.  But it wouldn't be real.  “You’d lose your place on the ship.”

“I know,” Yolanda said.  “But it might be something to do, later.”

Martin swallowed.  He honestly hadn't considered that Yolanda would leave the military, one day.  She would, of course.  She was smart and capable and, once she overcame her confidence problems, could probably find a job anywhere.  He, on the other hand, was only good for fighting and fucking, perhaps not in that order.  The Marines would be his home until his luck ran out and he died. 

And he would miss her.  He would miss her terribly.

“The vote has now been called,” the President said.  “Use a registered address to vote; unregistered addresses will simply be discarded.  You have ten minutes to make your vote.”

Martin nodded to himself as the icon popped up in his implants.  It was a simple question, compared to the slips he’d been told about on Earth.  A YES was a vote for war; a NO was a vote against war.  But it was a false issue, Martin knew, as he cast a vote for YES.  They would get the war if they wanted it, if they took the offensive, or not.  The Tokomak wouldn’t go away of their own accord.