“Food,” Mongo said, immediately. He snorted. “Food and human tech we can use on the moon.”
Steve gave Mongo a puzzled look, so he explained.
“The problem with getting into orbit is getting into orbit,” he said. “Getting something the size of the space shuttle into orbit costs a shitload of fuel. But we can bypass that problem with the shuttles we have, which will allow us to start using human technology on the moon without needing to place extra demands on our fabricators. Hell, we've had all the tech we needed to set up a lunar settlement for years. All we lacked was the ability to get there in the first place.”
“Fucking politicians,” Steve muttered.
“Tell me something,” Charles said. “Are we seriously considering setting up our own country?”
“Yes,” Steve said.
He wondered, briefly, if his friend – a natural conservative – thought they were moving too fast. But time was of the essence. Quite apart from the alien threat, they needed to be well-established before secrecy slipped ... and he knew, from bitter experience, that nothing remained secret indefinitely. Missing people would be noticed, strange new technology would be noticed ... all in all, eventually someone would put the pieces together and realise the truth. And, at that point, there would be trouble.
The federal government hated it when people tried to move outside its sphere of control, no matter the reason. It was incapable of leaving people alone, even if they weren't causing trouble or doing anything more than keeping themselves to themselves. And the technology Steve and his buddies had lucked into would reshape the world. The federal government would want it, very badly,
And they'd really hate the idea of someone setting up an independent state on the moon.
He pushed the thought aside and looked at Charles. “I want the three of us to put our heads together and work out a list of people who might be suitable recruits for our new society,” he said. “Mainly military veterans, but feel free to add people who haven’t served, but might still be useful. Ideally, people more than a little disenchanted with the government.”
“Don’t go for anyone on active service,” Kevin offered, “Too much room for divided loyalties.”
“Understood,” Charles said. He held up a hand before Steve could say a word. “What do we do if someone turns down our offer? Because someone will, soon enough. Either because they don't want to leave their comfortable homes or because they have patriotic objections to setting up on our own.”
Steve swallowed. The thought of killing someone who knew too much was sickening, yet they might not have a choice. Unless they intended to take prisoners ...
He paused. “Could we wipe their minds?”
Kevin hesitated. “Perhaps,” he said. “But the techniques are unreliable.”
“We’ll deal with it when it happens,” Steve said. He knew he was pushing the problem back until they actually had to confront it, but he saw no alternative. “It depends on the exact situation.”
Charles gave him a knowing look, but said nothing. Instead, he changed the subject.
“You do realise we’ll need a constitution and everything, soon enough?”
“Soon,” Steve said. “Or maybe we could just crib the one we already have.”
“You’d better go chat to Mariko,” Mongo said. “And I should go chat to Jayne.”
Charles swore out loud. “And Vincent! What do we do about him?”
Steve felt a sudden spurt of hope. “Could the alien tech reanimate him?”
Kevin shook his head. “Not now his brain has been dead for too long,” he said. “But we could bury him on the moon.”
“Except someone would notice he was gone,” Steve said. Vincent hadn't exactly been unpopular. His wife might not be expecting him back for another week, but she was expecting him. They’d have to tell her something, preferably the truth. “We can fake his death in an accident that wipes out all traces of anything ... inhuman.”
“Have to be a pretty nasty accident,” Charles said.
“Vincent was always modifying those old cars of his,” Mongo reminded them. “It wouldn't be too hard to rig one so it exploded, burning him to death and wiping out the evidence.”
“We could probably fix up his body too, a little,” Kevin added. “Or we could simply report that he disappeared on our camping trip.”
“Or we could simply disappear completely ourselves,” Steve mused. “Wives, children ... all gone to space. Nothing left for anyone to find.”
He shook his head. “I want to speak to Mariko,” he said. It wasn't fair to leave his partner out of it, particularly as she shared his disdain for the federal government. “But we should work out a list of likely contacts now, while we explore more of what this ship can do.”
It was nearly an hour before they had a list of forty possible names. The arguments waxed and waned over some of the more controversial additions; Kevin had wanted a handful of intelligence specialists to help go through the ship’s databanks, while Charles and Mongo wanted more Marines and Rangers respectively. There was a general agreement against head-hunting any of the USAF’s fighter jocks, but some heavy transport pilots – and CAS – specialists – would be very welcome. And then Charles had another brainwave.
“There’s always Ed,” he said. “The one with busted legs. What about him?”
Steve gave him a sharp look. Edward Romford had been badly wounded during the flare-up in Afghanistan and then, thanks to the VA’s incompetence, hadn't received medical treatment in time to save his spine. He was currently permanently installed in a residence home near New York, trapped in a wheelchair that he hated. Steve liked Ed – they’d shared some fun times together – but it was hard to face him after he'd been permanently crippled. The sight of the wounded veteran was a reminder that Steve could have easily ended up just like him.
He smiled, slowly, as he realised what Charles meant. “We could save his legs, couldn't we?”
“Or make him an enhanced soldier,” Kevin added. “Humanity’s very first cyborg.”
“Why not?” Steve asked. “You start working on a plan to get him out of the residence home without raising too many eyebrows.”
Kevin smirked. “Daring commando raid?”
“I was thinking more about offering to take him into the ranch,” Steve said, patiently.
“Or we could just beam him out of the residence,” Mongo offered. “Maybe give one of those bitch nurses a heart attack.”
“Something more subtle than that,” Steve said, warningly. He stood up. “Unless anyone has any objection, I intend to beam down and collect Vincent’s body, then proceed to the ranch and explain everything to Mariko.”
“No objections here,” Mongo said. “Just make sure you bring her up here before Jayne sees you. She’ll want to know what happened to me.”
Steve smirked. “I’ll tell her you’re several thousand light years away.”
“I hate you,” Mongo said, without heat. “And so will Jayne, if you don’t let me tell her first.”
Steve nodded and accessed the user interface. After what had happened to Kevin, he was reluctant to submerge himself in data; instead, he asked questions and listened carefully to the responses. The teleporter – he had to remind himself to stop thinking of it as a transporter – seemed to work along the basic Star Trek principles. It was just a little dodgy to use it without a proper matter buffer at one end of the teleport.
“Find a science-fiction author we can recruit,” he said, after losing himself in the technobabble once again. “Someone who speaks fluent Geek. Hell, we probably need someone to come to grips with just what combat in space actually entails.”
“I’ll find one,” Kevin promised. “Good luck, bro.”
“Just don’t let yourself be seen materialising,” Charles warned. “One of your kids might be sharp enough to realise he wasn't seeing things.”
“They probably would,” Kevin agreed. “And think how much smarter they will be once ne
ural interface technology enters the educational system. They’ll be able to imprint information into their minds.”
“Not with the teachers unions,” Charles commented.
“There won’t be any on the moon,” Steve said. He smiled as his dream unfolded in front of him. “It will be a land of individualists, with no collective responsibility for anything.”
“Really?” Charles asked. “Even defence?”
“It may take us a while to work out a political theory,” Steve admitted. “I’ll beam down now, folks. Have fun in my absence.”
“We’ll try not to crash the ship into an asteroid,” Mongo called.
Steve gave him a one-fingered gesture and walked out the hatch.
Chapter Five
Montana, USA
The Stuart Family Ranch wasn't that large, not compared to some of the huge ranches in Montana. Situated between two mountain ranges, it consisted of three barns, five fields and a large pond Steve had fished in, when he was a younger child. His ancestors had made it a point of pride that their somewhat isolated ranch rarely needed to hire outside help. The family could handle it for themselves, they’d decided, although they’d had problems doing both that and fighting for their country. But it had bred a self-reliance in them that had kept the family going through thick and thin.
Steve gasped as he materialised under the trees, some distance from the ranch house. The whole sensation of being teleported felt eerie, although not as bad as he’d feared. It felt as if every atom in his body had been tickled as the world dissolved into silver light, then reformed around him. As he’d expected, no one was close enough to see his arrival. The apple trees that surrounded the family cemetery hid him from outside view.
He caught his breath, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat pounding inside his chest. The experience was profoundly alien, raising all sorts of questions in his mind. Had the real Steve died when he entered the teleporter, only to be replaced by a completely identical copy that thought it was the original? Or was the teleporter sophisticated enough to duplicate a soul as well as a physical body? Somehow, he was sure that scientists and theologians would be debating the issue for centuries to come. But did it really matter?
Shaking his head, he looked down at himself. Everything seemed to be where it belonged, so he reached up and touched the silver band around his head. He’d worried about walking outside the network interface’s range, but the interface had told him that he would have to be several light-seconds away from the starship before it started to have problems maintaining the connection. Even then, it could send data packets back and forth, even if it couldn’t maintain a teleport lock. Bracing himself, he walked forward until he pushed through the apple trees and headed down towards the house.
“Hey, Uncle Steve,” two of Mongo’s children called. “You’re back early!”
Steve smirked. They didn't know the half of it.
“I’m back, yes,” he said, instead. “Where’s my partner?”
They pointed towards the ranch house. Steve nodded to the two boys and strode past them, up to the door. Up close, it was clear that certain members of the family were more than a little paranoid; the door was painted to look like wood, but it was actually solid metal. But then, it would be hours, at best, before the law enforcement forces got out to the ranch if the owners called for help. Taking care of themselves was practically bred into them. Tapping the door, he opened it and stepped inside. Mariko looked out from the kitchen, surprise written all over her face. She hadn't expected to see him for several days.
“Hi, honey,” Steve said. “I’m home.”
Mariko flowed forward and wrapped him in a hug. She’d surprised Steve when they’d first met – the city girl who’d become a doctor and then a vet, purely because she wanted to get out of the city – and continued to surprise him, every few days. They might not have married – Steve had his suspicions about modern marriage – but he considered her his wife in every way that mattered. And they’d had four children together.
“So,” she said, after a brief kissing session. “What’s that?”
Steve smiled as she pointed to the headband. “It’s a long story, honey,” he said. “You’d better be sitting down.”
Mariko lifted her eyebrows, but did as she was told. She was a slight girl, in many ways, her Japanese features seeming out of place in the ranch house. And yet there was a strength around her that continued to impress him, even after twelve years of partnership. She might not have been born into the ranch culture, but she belonged there now.
“You see, we were abducted from the campsite,” Steve began. “By aliens.”
Mariko listened, her face clearly doubtful, as Steve ran through the entire story, from the alien craft to the moment they’d decided to set up a new nation for themselves. Steve wasn't in the habit of lying to anyone, certainly not his partner, but the entire story was more than a little unbelievable. And then she leaned forward and took a closer look at the silver headband.
“It’s grown into your flesh,” she said, sharply. Her fingers poked and prodded at where the headband met his skin. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Steve allowed his smile to widen. “You believe me now?”
“... Maybe,” Mariko said. She stood up. “Show me the starship.”
“Of course,” Steve said. He’d already planned where he wanted to take her first, once she was onboard the ship. He stood and took her arm. “Try to relax, honey.”
He sent the command through the interface. Moments later, the entire room dissolved into silver light, only to reform as a teleport bay. Mariko staggered against him as soon as the teleport beam let go of her, clearly badly shocked. Steve felt a moment of regret – had he moved too fast? – then shook his head, mentally. He had to show her the truth before she decided he was playing a joke on her – or that he'd gone mad.
She muttered something in Japanese as he led her out of the compartment and down the stained corridor, into the observation blister. The Hordesmen hadn't seemed like tourists, but the ship’s original designers had been firm believers in placing windows and portholes in their starships. Steve rather understood how they felt. He’d been in submarines twice and both of them had been rather claustrophobic. The alien ship was larger than any submarine or spacecraft humanity had ever built, but the crews might well face the same problem. They needed to look out of the craft from time to time.
Mariko clutched his arm tightly as they entered the observation blister. Ahead of them, Earth glowed in the darkness of interplanetary space. Steve shook his head in awe as Mariko stepped up to the edge of the blister and pressed her fingertips against the glass – if it was glass, Steve told himself. It might as well be transparent aluminium.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes shining as she turned to face him. “It’s ... fantastic!”
“It is,” Steve agreed. It was suddenly very easy to take her in his arms and kiss her. “It's the dawn of a brave new world.”
He held her for a moment longer, then sobered. “There’s something – someone – I’d like you to take a look at,” he added. “Although I’m not sure if you will be wearing your doctor’s outfit or your vet’s coat.”
Mariko snickered, then stared up at him. “You captured an alien?”
“Yes,” Steve said, simply. For a doctor, the chance to study a completely non-human life form had to be the Holy Grail. But they needed the alien techie alive. “Please don’t dissect him.”
“I won’t,” Mariko promised.
Steve led her through the maze of corridors, back up to the cabin where Mongo was on guard. “You can go speak to Jayne now,” he said, to his brother. “Bring her up here after you’ve told her the truth.”
He scowled. “And then we have to prepare Vincent’s body for disposal,” he added. “It can't look even remotely damaged.”
Mariko looked up at him. “When are you going to tell his wife?”
Steve winced. “After this,” he
said. “Will you come with me?”
Mariko nodded, wordlessly.
***
Cn!lss had never really expected to be taken prisoner. As a rule, the Horde rarely took prisoners, not when resources had been very limited on their homeworld. The only times they took prisoners were when the captive could be ransomed back to their Horde or when the captive might know something useful. In the latter case, the captive was taken somewhere safe and brutally tortured until he gave up his secrets, then executed as soon as he had surrendered everything. It wasn't as if his fellows would want him back.
But the humans seemed to be remarkably considerate captors. They’d refused to give him a terminal or anything else he could use to work, but they had given him food, water and a certain amount of privacy. Compared to what he’d had to endure under the Subhorde Commander, it was almost paradise. Those who actually tried to understand alien technology got no respect from their fellow Hordesmen.
A Learning Experience Page 5