A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (25 page)

Yolanda squeezed his hand – in real life, or the perceptual reality.  He wasn't sure which.

“I voted,” she said.  “Would it have been better, on Earth, if we had this system?”

Martin shrugged.  He’d been told, like most of the children raised in the ghetto, that the Evil White Man was bent on keeping the Noble Black Man down.  It had been a surprise – although it shouldn't have been – to learn that white children were taught equally unpleasant things about black men, just to keep the fires of racial hatred burning nastily.  Divide and rule, Scudder had said, and he’d been right.  As long as White and Black hated one another with a passion, there was no hope of unification against the Government.

“I don’t know,” he said.  The ghetto would have voted for race war, he was sure, and so would most of the whites.  There would have been a bloody slaughter.  “Maybe it can only work up here, where everyone draws a line between them and the past.”

“The voting will close in one minute,” an AI said.  “You have one minute to cast your vote or you will be counted as having abstained.”

“Should force people to vote,” Yolanda muttered.  “It would work.”

Martin had his doubts.  “People hate being forced to do something,” he said.  “And they might not bother to consider the issues.”

“The voting is now closed,” the AI said.  “Seventy-two percent of cast votes are for war.”

“Thank you,” the President said.  “And let us pray that we win the war.”

Martin disengaged from the perceptual reality and crashed back into the hotel room.  Yolanda lay on the bed, her body twitching slightly, as if she were in a coma.  Martin shuddered at the sight – she looked dead, even though he knew she wasn't – and called room service.  Even on Gunn Asteroid, it was possible to get good food if one had enough money. 

He swore as a message popped up in his inbox.  They were to return to the ship in five hours or be counted as deserters.  Martin could guess why, too.  If someone had ordered the attack on the Tokomak ship, they’d probably had war plans already drawn up, just waiting for the public to authorise them.  Five hours ... he hesitated, then sent a message to Yolanda.  They could eat something nice, then run back to the ship.  There was no time to remain immersed in the datanet.

“There will be war,” Yolanda said.  She sat upright, then smiled at him.  “And I voted for it.”

“So did” – Martin checked his implants to get the number – “over two billion other humans,” Martin said.  “I don’t think you can blame this on you.”

“I won’t,” Yolanda said.  “Martin ... are you scared?”

Martin blinked in surprise.  In the ghetto – or the Marines, for that matter – it was a point of honour never to admit to being scared.  Or to show any other sign of weakness, for that matter.  If he’d ever shown the slightest hint of homosexuality, he would have been driven out of his home, no matter the lectures on tolerance he’d received at school.  It was just the way things were, he'd thought at the time.  Being interested in men was just another sign of weakness.

But two of the Marines are gay and no one gives a shit
, he thought. 
There are worse things out there than men who like men
.

“A little,” he confessed.

He changed the subject, quickly.  “I ordered food,” he said.  “It should be here in a few minutes.”

Yolanda ignored him.  “It just struck me,” she said.  “I could die in the war.  We could both die in the war.”

“Yes,” Martin said.  Hadn't she said something similar when she’d served on the jury?  “It’s a possibility.”

“And I wouldn't have lived,” Yolanda said.  “I ...”

“Now you’re being silly,” Martin said.  “You were at your lowest ebb four years ago, but now you have a whole new life and a career.  I bet none of your stepsisters have a hope of winning a place on a starship.”

“I know,” Yolanda said.  “But I still feel rotten.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.  Martin jumped – she rarely showed any signs of physical affection – and then pulled back.  His body reminded him, sharply, of just how long it had been since he’d slept with anyone, but he told that part of him to shut up. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Martin said.  “I ...”

“
Now
who’s being silly?”  Yolanda asked.  “And I
want
to be normal.”

And then she kissed him again, hard.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Heinlein Foundation filed suit in New York against Progressive Publishers, after they published an updated version of Heinlein’s famous novel, Starman Jones.  The complaint attests that the ‘updated’ version not only destroys the soul of the book – the guild system is presented as reasonable – but adds sex scenes that were simply lacking from the original version.  This bowdlerisation is particularly odd, the suit goes on to note, as the publishers also modified Tess of the d'Urbervilles to remove all references to rape.

-Solar News Network, Year 53

“And there has been no report from
Supreme Flower of the Delicate Evening
?”

“No, Your Excellency,” the Admiral said.  “She has not returned from her mission.”

“I see,” Viceroy Neola said, coldly.  “And the Captain was reliable?”

“His ship was decked out in her finery two years ago, for the grand parade,” the Admiral insisted.  “Her interior design even won first prize against very stiff competition.  He is a reliable officer.”

Neola looked down at the chart.  Losing one ship wasn't a problem – she had hundreds on the way – but it was worrying.  Had
Supreme Flower of the Delicate Evening
run into something her Captain couldn't handle ... or had she simply suffered a catastrophic failure?  It happened, she knew, no matter how many precautions were taken.  A starship went into deep space and never was seen again.  But there were other possibilities, none of them good.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought.  Who would dare attack a Tokomak cruiser?

“I want the first units to make their way to Hades at once,” she ordered.  “Do you have an updated ETA for the fleet?”

“Three months,” the Admiral stated.  “There have been ... delays.”

Neola clicked her fingers in irritation.  It had been centuries since more than a handful of battleships had ventured out of the Core Worlds and made their way to the outer edge of the Empire.  No one had seen any need to deploy more than a handful of smaller ships, not when they were capable of handling anything they might encounter along the Rim.  Besides, the smaller powers, like the Varnar, could certainly hold the line against any new threat until the Tokomak could respond.  But it meant there were a whole series of problems in getting the fleet to move through the gravity points to Varnar.

“Tell them to expedite their departure,” she said.  The last fleet review had been magnificent, full of pomp and circumstance.  Thousands of starships, an unforgettable display of wealth and power, had paraded over the Homeworld, showing off their might to the universe.  But why were they having so many problems reaching the Rim?  “And the fleet train?”

“It should be ready for deployment within a month,” the Admiral said.  “The Varnar have also requested a considerable amount of resources.”

“Put their request at the back,” Neola ordered.  “They can wait until we've dealt with their upstart race, these
humans
.”

She looked up at him.  “Have you prepared the formal demand for Earth?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” the Admiral said.  “It will give them the choice between submission or inevitable defeat.”

“Then send it,” Neola ordered.

She paced around the giant room until she came to the window and looked out over Varnar City.  The Varnar didn't know it, but she had orders about them too.  Once the humans were gone, once the Coalition had been brought to heel, the Varnar would also be forced under the yoke.  There was no alternative.  They had proved incompetent as a proxy race, unable to handle a challenge from a bunch of upstarts, and so they had to go.  She would rule the sector in their place and then ...

The holographic star chart winked at her.  There were countless stars beyond the rim of explored space, holding ... who knew
what
they held?  Once the war was over, she would find out and then embark upon a new war of conquest.  And then ...

She clicked her fingers, smiling unpleasantly.  The Old Ones would be unable to deny her anything, once she’d made them the masters of a far larger empire.

***

“They’re keeping us away from the Tokomak ships,” Captain Sadie Justinian observed.  “I think they’re worried about spies.”

“Then they’re doing it wrong,” Kevin grunted, as the
Kirk’s Dirk
slipped into orbit around Varnar.  “Everyone with a passive sensor can see their ships sitting in orbit.  And they’re already in weapons range of the orbital fortresses.”

The formation looked impressive, he had to admit, but no human commander would have risked a handful of heavy cruisers in trying to emulate the Red Arrows.  Hell, he wouldn't have risked a handful of
gunboats
.  Kevin had the uneasy feeling that, if the Tokomak were called upon to manoeuvre suddenly, their ships would actually have
collided
with one another, something that rarely happened outside movies where the scriptwriter was more interested in exploding starships than reality.

“They’re definitely impressive,” Sadie said, after a moment.  “But are they anything else?”

“Probably not,” Kevin said.  “Call the people on the surface and see if you can get us somewhere to stay for a few days.  The Tokomak can take care of themselves.”

“Aye, sir,” Sadie said.  “Do you have anywhere in particular you happen to want?”

“Somewhere secure, but not too secure,” Kevin said.  Officially, they were selling Tendon Bolts, spare parts that were only used by bulk freighters or small warships.  There would be some time, he was sure, before they actually managed to sell them all, giving him and his team plenty of time to find somewhere else to hide.  “And send the pre-recorded message to the embassy.”

He sighed, then walked down to the team compartment and nodded to the small group of operatives.  Chester had been joined by Flies, another Hordesman; the remainder were all human, as before.  Kevin waited until the Captain had confirmed they would have a place to stay, then led the way to the teleport chamber.  When they materialised on the planet, they found themselves in a giant warehouse with direct links to the spaceport and the city itself.

“Make sure everything is secure,” Kevin said.  The Galactic traders were quite prepared to spy on their fellow traders, if only to see what they were bringing to Varnar and planning to undercut them in the local markets.  “And clear out any bugs you find.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian said.  “You want to cosy up to the local criminals?”

“Probably not,” Kevin said.  He’d used criminal contacts before; some tended to be honourable, but others suffered from unexpected bouts of patriotism or would simply sell out the intelligence agents for money.  “I think we’d better remain as simple, unassuming traders until it’s too late.”

He watched the team do their job, then walked up to the living quarters.  As he’d expected, they were dirty, grimy and unsuitable for prisoners on death row.  Shaking his head at the sight, he moved back downstairs and linked his implants to the nearest processor node, then sent his message to Sally.  He’d just have to wait and see if she responded.  It was quite possible that she was reluctant to become attached to anyone – after all, she never knew when she would see him. 

And what
, he asked himself,
do her feelings matter?  You’re gathering information to use against the Galactics
.

The reply arrived two hours later, while he was in the middle of scrubbing the living quarters into something reasonably clean.  It was simple and straight to the point; Sally invited him to her apartment, as soon as he could make it.  Kevin’s eyes narrowed; it was the middle of the local day and, unless there was something else going on, she should be at work.  But there was no point in refusing to go.  Instead, he spoke quickly to Julian and then walked to the nearest teleport hub.  The team would know something was wrong if he didn't check in within the hour.

Sally had moved apartments, he noticed, when he arrived and made his way up the stairs.  It was quite possible she was being paid more, he decided, or that she’d been promoted ... if intelligence brokers saw fit to promote their assistants.  Or she could have saved up ... he pushed the thought out of his head and touched the pistol at his belt, then knocked loudly on the door.  His most dangerous weapons were implanted under his skin, but if someone was trying to kidnap him, they might think there were no implants if he was carrying a pistol ...

The door opened, revealing a business office and Sally, sitting on the far side of a desk.

“Please, be seated,” she said.  The door hissed closed and locked behind Kevin as soon as he stepped inside.  “This room is completely secure.”

Kevin gave her a long considering look.  “
How
secure?”

“We can keep out everyone,” Sally said.  “Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Kevin said. 

He sat down, using his implants to test the room’s security.  No processor responded to his pings, while a static field made it difficult for him to send a message outside the walls.  If there were any bugs hidden within the room, it should be impossible for them to pick up anything.  Or so he hoped.  He knew, all too well, that human surveillance and counter-surveillance technology was advancing by leaps and bounds.

“I wasn’t too surprised to hear from you,” Sally said.  She gave him a thin smile, which became wider as he smiled back.  “Can we talk bluntly?”

“We can try,” Kevin said, carefully.

“Mr. Ando says you’re a spy,” Sally said.  “You’re working for Human Intelligence.”

Kevin felt an odd sense of ...
wrongness
, the sense of suddenly being naked in public.  It had happened once, during one of his early missions; his cover had been broken and it had almost got him killed.  If Sally knew who he was, Mr. Ando probably knew who he was too ... and then ... who knew what would happen?  His implants flickered to full alert, ready to bust out of the room and flee ...

Angrily, he damped them down.  There was no threat.  Not yet.

“I can’t answer that question,” he said, finally.

“You’re from the Stuart Family,” Sally said.  “Mr. Ando identified you.  I don’t think you’d be buying vital intelligence if all you were doing was bumming around in an aging freighter, trying to sell Maple Syrup to the locals.  He doesn't think so either.”

“I see,” Kevin said.  “And is there a reason for ... tugging off my cover in public?”

“This isn't public,” Sally said.  She leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk.  “Mr. Ando wishes, completely off the record, to assist you in your work.”

Kevin’s eyes narrowed.  “Why?”

“There are reports that the Tokomak don’t plan to merely restore the pre-humanity
Status Quo
,” Sally said.  “They plan to take over the entire sector.  The Varnar will merely be the last to be forced to submit to them.  This will be fatal for everyone.”

“I would agree with that,” Kevin said.  The Coalition – and the economy Earth had tapped into – only existed because it was close enough to the Tokomak to draw on their technology without attracting their attention.  They’d been content to let the proxy war splutter on without attempting to intervene, on one side or the other.  But now ...  “They don't want the Varnar growing too powerful.”

“That was our conclusion too,” Sally said.  “We believe that some officers in the Varnar Navy may share it.”

She met his eyes.  “Mr. Ando has an offer for you,” she said.  “He will give you intelligence ... and access to sources you would probably be unable to match, including several at the highest levels of the military.  Some of them are even
Tokomak
.”

Kevin blinked.  “They are?”

“They seem to have problems grasping the fact that younger races can actually hurt them,” Sally admitted.  “With the right level of access, you can pull quite a bit from their datacores.”