A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (3 page)

“Give us fifty, perhaps a hundred more years,” Keith Glass said, “and we’d be able to smash any offensive they sent against us.  We’d ... we'd be carrying machine guns while they’d be spear-carrying tribesmen.  The outcome would be inevitable.”

“But we don’t have fifty years,” the President said.  “Can we beat them now?”

“Perhaps,” Mongo said.  “We’ve always had a scenario whereupon the Tokomak launch an attack on Earth.  However, we lack data.  For example ... do their warships have the same weaknesses as other Galactic warships?”

Kevin nodded.  The Tokomak might well have kept the good stuff for themselves, as American and European arms traders had ensured they never sold top-of-the-range weapons to third world states.  In their place, he would have made sure he kept a few weapons and other pieces of technology back, holding it in reserve.  If their loyal subjects had decided to be disloyal, having the ability to smash them flat would definitely have come in handy.

But they already have the biggest stick in galactic history
, he thought. 
They have literally millions of battleships in commission
.
  Or do they
?

His analysts were divided on the question.  Some of them believed the Tokomak were more willing to sacrifice other races – the Varnar, for example – than send their sons and daughters to war.  Certainly, human empires had used proxy forces when they hadn’t wanted to put boots on the ground.  Others, however, wondered just how many of those battleships were actually in active service.  The Tokomak, secure in their own superiority, might have placed thousands of ships in reserve.

“This is a little more important than matters on Earth,” Bute said, nervously.  “Do we have a plan?”

“I have a rough idea,” Kevin said.  He’d hashed it out when the first reports had come in, even though he’d hoped the reports were inaccurate.  It hadn't been long before confirmation had arrived.  “First, we need to determine just how much of a threat they actually pose.  I have several ideas for this, which we will discuss at a later meeting.  Second, we need to delay them as much as possible.  Again, I have ideas that we will need to consider later.”

He paused.  “And third, we have to give them a bloody nose, one they won’t forget in a hurry.

“I’ve studied their government carefully.  They’re slow, incredibly ponderous, but they’ve been masters of the universe for so long they’ve grown accustomed to getting their way.  A small reverse won’t bother them, even if the Varnar lose the war completely.  The only way to get them to deal with us as equals – or even just accept our independence – is to hit them hard enough to shock them out of their torpor.”

“Which also might galvanise them into throwing everything at us,” Councillor Jackson pointed out.  “This isn't something we should decide, Director.  The question should be put before the population.”

“Which may alert the Galactics that we know what they’re planning,” Kevin pointed out.  “If they know, our task becomes a great deal harder.”

“There are laws,” Councillor Jackson insisted.  “We
cannot
keep this secret indefinitely.”

“Legally, this council can keep something secret for up to a year without penalties,” SPEAKER informed her.  “You may lose your office, Councillor, but you wouldn't lose your life.”

Councillor Jackson didn't look pleased.  Kevin understood.  The Solar Union didn't allow career politicians, no matter how experienced or capable they were.  Marie Jackson had three more years of her term, then she would have to run for President or leave politics for good.  And, if her constituents disagreed with the decision to keep the council’s deliberations under wraps, she might face a recall election and be kicked out of office ahead of time. 

But at least she won’t face criminal charges of abusing her office
, he thought.

“There is another issue,” Bute said.  “Do we inform Earth?”

“
Earth
?”  Keith Glass said.  “What makes you think they’d
care
?”

“They’re going to be at risk too,” Bute said.  “This isn't a minor issue like the Abdul Murder Trial.  This is an invasion of human space by the single most powerful force known to exist.”

The President frowned.  “We will consider it,” he said.  “However, I suspect that revealing any such information to Earth would cause panic.  The governments would prove quite unable to handle the chaos.”

He looked at Kevin.  “Does Intelligence have any updated predictions for Earth?”

“Total collapse of the former Western World within thirty years, perhaps less,” Kevin said, bluntly.  The thought caused him a pang.  It had been a long time since he’d sworn to defend the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, but now he was running away rather than trying to carry out his oath.  “Some places are trying to stand up to the tidal wave of anarchy – Switzerland in particular – but they’re unlikely to be able to hold out indefinitely.”

“We will get more refugees,” Councillor Jackson observed.

“That’s fine, as long as they are prepared to work,” Bute said.  “And to stick to the laws.”

“And we will enforce the laws,” Mongo said.  “
All
of the laws.”

“Then no, we don’t tell Earth,” the President said.  “They will know when our population knows, I think.  Until then ... we stick with the non-intervention agreement.  Unless our people are involved, we leave Earth to itself.”

Bute snorted, rudely.

“I propose meet again one month from today,” Kevin said.  “By then, we should have some additional information from Varnar Prime.  I may need to deploy additional intelligence assets to the system.”

“Men in suits,” Bute said.

“They don’t really keep track of aliens unless they want to apply for permanent residence,” Kevin said.  “But you’re right, Councillor.  A team of humans would attract attention.”

“Unless they were cyborgs,” Keith Glass said.  “They still have breeding stock, don’t they?”

“Unfortunately,” Kevin agreed.

On that note, the meeting ended.

Chapter Three

Factions backing Scottish Independence marched through Edinburgh today, prior to the seventh referendum on Scottish Independence from England.  Unconfirmed reports indicate that pro-UK or pro-EU factions have been attacked, sometimes savagely.  Polls suggest, given the high rate of emigration from Scotland, that the independence vote will actually be successful, this time.

-Solar News Network, Year 51

“You seem to be healthy,” the doctor said, as Yolanda Miguel perched on a bed.  “Nothing wrong with you that can't be fixed by basic nanotech.”

Yolanda blinked in surprise.  “You don’t want me to take off my clothes?”

“It isn’t necessary,” the doctor assured her.  He reached for a terminal and swung it around to face her.  “I scanned your body as soon as you sat down on the bed.  You have some problems caused by basic nutritional issues and suchlike, but nothing too serious.”

He paused.  “Was there a reason for the question?”

Yolanda gritted her teeth.  “I ... I had a medical exam when I turned fourteen,” she said.  “I had to take off everything, then he poked and prodded at me for hours.”

“Sounds like a right bastard,” the doctor said.  “Or possibly a paedophile.”

He tapped the terminal.  “Scanning the human body down to the molecular level is quite easy,” he said.  “The autodoc can handle most of it, young lady.  There’s nothing here that requires human intervention.  But doctors on Earth have successfully banned autodoc units for safety reasons.”

“I see,” Yolanda said.  Part of her was angry at the discovery that the whole thoroughly unpleasant experience could have been avoided.  The other part of her found it hard to care, as if it had happened to someone else.  “Is there anything else I should know?”

The doctor looked back at her.  “You shouldn't have any problems with implants,” he said, softly.  “We sometimes have people who can't take them, but you’re not one of them.  However” – he paused for a moment – “you do have some scarring in your privates.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Yolanda said, sharply.  She’d bottled up those memories, those emotions, and sealed them away inside her mind.  There was no way she wanted them to come out again.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Very well,” the doctor said.  He motioned for her to stand up.  “If you want to talk about it at a later date, young lady, there are services that provide counselling.  You’re not the first person to flee Earth in such a state.”

“Thank you,” Yolanda said.  “But I’m not
that
much younger than you.”

The doctor smiled.  “How old do you think I am?”

Yolanda studied him for a long moment.  He was tall and slim, with short blonde hair, a starkly handsome face and muscular body.  There was something about him that made her feel safe, even though they were alone together.  It wasn’t something she fully understood, but it was reassuring.  She just didn't know why.

“You’re in your thirties,” she guessed.

“I’m sixty-five,” the doctor said.

“Fuck off,” Yolanda said, automatically.  Too late, she recalled that swearing was grounds for a slap from her mother.  “I mean ...”

The doctor didn't take offense.  “I’ve had my age frozen,” he said.  “You might want to do the same, one day.  It isn't hard to do.”

Yolanda was still shaking her head as she walked out of the office and looked around.  Martin was nowhere to be seen, something that bothered her more than she cared to admit. 
He
felt safe too, despite his appearance.  It wasn't something she cared to think about; school had taught her that skin colour wasn't important, but life had taught her the exact opposite in so many different ways.  What was the point of Ethnic Entitlement Cards if skin colour and genetic descent were so important?  And where did a mixed-race child fit in?

She shuddered suddenly as she remembered the exam, four years ago.  Why had the doctor put her and her classmates through hell?

“Hey,” Martin’s voice said.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Yolanda said, as she turned to face him.  “Just feeling a little silly.”

Martin blinked.  “You?  Silly?”

“I was nervous about the exam,” Yolanda said.  “But instead ... it was simple.”

“Yeah,” Martin agreed.  Perhaps he’d had a similar experience.  “It was easy.  The doctor just told me to make sure I took a few supplements, once I reached Sparta.”

“You two,” another voice called.  Yolanda looked up to see a heavyset man wearing a grey uniform.  “The shuttle leaves in twenty minutes.  Be on it or you’ll be kicked out before you even begin!”

“Thank you,” Martin said, sarcastically.  “And where is the shuttle?”

“Through those doors, then down to the right,” the man informed him.  “Make sure you board one going to Sparta or you’ll be billed for the trip.”

Yolanda and Martin exchanged glances, then walked through the doors and into the open air.  She’d half-expected something akin to an airport, but instead there was nothing more than a hard surface and a handful of medium-sized shuttles waiting for them.  A dark-skinned man with a terminal checked them both, then pointed towards one of the shuttlecraft.  It was, Yolanda decided as she walked up to it, definitely a remarkable design.  She couldn't wait to learn how to fly the craft.

“Better get inside,” Martin muttered.  He sounded nervous, although she had a feeling he would have preferred to die than admit it.  “I don’t want to be standing here when the craft takes off.”

“Me neither,” Yolanda said.

Inside, the shuttlecraft was little different from a regular airliner.  Yolanda was almost disappointed, particularly when she saw the tiny seats.  A fat person would have very real problems sitting down, she noted, although she hadn't seen any fat people on the base.  If nanotech could freeze someone at a certain age, she asked herself, could it also keep someone slim and healthy?  It certainly seemed likely. 

She sat down and braced herself, expecting a long and boring lecture on flight safety, followed by a rocky flight and uncomfortable landing.  She’d only flown twice and both experiences had been thoroughly awful.  However, the shuttle was different.  The hatch slammed closed, a man in another grey uniform checked the seats, then a faint shimmer ran through the craft.  She didn't even realise the shuttle had taken off until she glanced out of the porthole.  The ground was already far below them.

“My God,” Martin breathed.

Slowly, Earth became a sphere hanging in the inky darkness of space.  Yolanda found herself captivated as she stared down at the blue-green orb, which started to shrink rapidly as the shuttle accelerated away from the planet.  Moments later, it was gone, leaving them staring out at the stars.  They didn't twinkle in space, she realised, slowly.  There was no atmosphere to produce the effects.  Or so she thought.  Thankfully, she’d chosen basic science instead of faith healing, elemental powers or one of the other electives the school had been forced to offer its students.  But she had a feeling she was far behind where she needed to be.

The flight became boring, something she wouldn't have believed possible.  She forced herself to sit back and relax, trying to keep herself calm.  Her thoughts kept returning to the past, nagging at her mind and making it impossible to think straight.  She’d buried everything, she’d thought, and yet they’d started to come out at the worst possible moment.  Part of her just wanted to open the airlock and jump out into interplanetary space; the remainder, knowing that suicide was the end, just wanted to forget.  But forgetfulness would never come.

Martin elbowed her.  “Are you alright?”

“Just ... just nerves,” Yolanda said.  She felt as if she could trust him, on some level, but she couldn't talk to him about her past.  No one would understand.  “I’ve never been in space before.”

“Neither have I,” Martin said.  “Would you like me to look after you?”

Yolanda had to fight to hide her reaction, even though she knew he’d meant no harm.  Other girls had accepted similar offers, in the past, only to find they had bought safety from the outside world at the price of submitting themselves to a single man.  Her High School had been a nightmare of competing cliques, while the teachers had done nothing to maintain discipline and ...

She forced the thoughts aside.  Earth had fallen behind them.  There was no going back.

“It’s alright,” she said.  “Thank you for caring.”

The shuttlecraft shuddered once, lightly, then altered course.  Yolanda looked outside, just in time to see a massive rocky asteroid drifting in front of them.  It took her several minutes to pick out the signs of human habitation; pieces of burnished metal on the rock, crawlers making their way over the surface and lights glittering amidst the gloom.  The shuttle shuddered again, then slid through a hatch and into a shuttlebay.  There was a sudden feeling of heaviness, which faded rapidly, then nothing.

A man stood up at the front of the shuttle.  “Welcome to Sparta,” he said.  “You are about to enter a hideously dangerous environment.  One mistake could get you – or others – killed.  I strongly advise you to follow orders, keep your hands to yourselves and refrain from doing anything stupid.  Given time, you will learn how to handle yourself in outer space.  Until then, do as we tell you.”

He paused.  “I’m going to open the hatch and step outside,” he added.  “Form a straight line and follow me, without delay. 
Do not
attempt to leave the line.  Anyone who disobeys orders once will be flogged.  Anyone who disobeys orders repeatedly will be kicked out of the course.  There will be no further warnings.”

“Shit,” Martin said.  “Do you think he’s serious?”

“I think so,” Yolanda said.

The hatch opened.  One by one, the recruits stood up and walked out of the hatch.  Yolanda let Martin take the lead when it was their turn to move; she followed him, as per orders, but she couldn't help looking from side to side as they stepped out of the shuttle.  It was bitterly cold, cold enough to make her shiver; they were standing in a large shuttlebay, with dozens of shuttles scattered everywhere.  Men and women in grey uniforms, some of them with metal arms or legs, were working on the craft.  She stared at them in awe for a long moment, then walked after Martin through the next hatch.  Inside, thankfully, it was warmer.

“Line up on the dotted line,” the man ordered, pointing them to a yellow line on the floor.  “I don’t have all day, so
hurry
.”

“I saw lots of military movies,” Martin muttered in her ear.  “I think this is when they call us maggots and shout at us a lot.”

“Joy,” Yolanda muttered back.  It didn't bother her, not really.  Her mother and father had shouted at her for most of her life.  “I can take it.”

The man waited for the final recruits to take their place, then closed the hatch and stamped around until he was facing them.  “Welcome to Sparta,” he said.  “I am Senior Drill Sergeant Bass.  You will address me as
Sergeant
.  In the course of the next week, you will meet other Drill Sergeants and Drill Instructors.  You will address them as
Sergeant
too.”

He paused.  “For my crimes, I have been assigned as Senior Drill Sergeant for Recruit Company #42,” he continued.  “That’s you, by the way.  You will be asked hundreds of times over the coming months which company you belong to, so I suggest you remember that you’re #42.  Getting it wrong will earn you a demerit, which you will have to work off; if you earn ten demerits, you will have a very embarrassing interview with the Commandant.  Your career may not survive drawing his attention.

“My job is supervising you for this, the first stage of your training.  Everyone goes through the same basic training, then we split you up into smaller groups in accordance with your desires and capabilities.  You will be given a fair shot at trying to become
anything
, as long as we believe you have the ability to
learn
and succeed.  But the outcome will largely depend on just how much effort you put into it.  I am not here to coddle you into completing an exam or writing an essay, although you will have to do both over the coming months.  What you get out of this largely depends on what you put into it.”