Defining a citizen was simple enough, he decided, as he wrote out that section. A citizen would be someone who had lived in a canton for two years, paid taxes and chosen to join its voting register. People could refuse to become citizens if they wished, but they would have no voting rights and no say in government. It struck him, a moment later, that some people would probably move between cantons regularly, so he rewrote to say that someone had to have a canton as his permanent residence for two years. There would be no joint citizenship of cantons. One person, one vote.
He was midway through drafting the legal code when Kevin called him. “There are some quite interesting responses,” he said. Steve glanced at his watch, then down at the sheets of paper. Had it really been three hours since he'd started work? “I’m afraid the Russians, Chinese and French have lodged protests at the UN and are demanding we turn the starships and the lunar base over to them.”
Steve snorted. “Them and what army?”
Kevin chuckled. “The UN is calling an emergency meeting to discuss the situation, scheduled for tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “They’re undecided if they want to treat us as an independent state or not, but we have been invited to participate.”
“I’ll think about it,” Steve said.
The thought made him grit his teeth. He hated the UN and considered it worse than the federal government. At least the feds could sometimes find their asses with both hands when they went looking. There was no war or natural disaster, no matter how unpleasant, that could not be made worse by the United Nations. Hell, the fighting in Libya might have ended sooner if the transnational ICC hadn't put out a warrant for the dictator’s arrest, making it impossible for him to back down.
But then, what could one reasonably expect from an organisation that didn't even have a majority of democratic states? The whole concept had been fundamentally flawed from the beginning.
“They’re also demanding access to the alien prisoners,” Kevin said. “In fact, they’re not the only ones – and quite a few of the others have been much more respectful.”
“They’re not going to be paraded around Earth,” Steve said. Quite apart from the violation of the Geneva Conventions, it would probably be considered cruel and unusual punishment. And it wouldn't help any attempt to convince the Hordesmen to join humanity. “But if there are scientists who feel they can add to the research program, see if they're worth recruiting.”
“Understood,” Kevin said. “By the by, did you read the report from the two new ships?”
Steve shook his head. He really needed to recruit more staffers. But maybe that was how bureaucracy had begun, back in days of yore. The guy in charge, unable to do everything himself, had recruited more and more people to help him do his work. And then the whole process had just snowballed out of control.
The bureaucrats will be held to account in the cantons, he told himself, firmly. They will not be permitted arbitrary power.
“We have four new fabricators and nine new shuttles, as well as quite a few other supplies,” Kevin said. “If we put them all to use, we should be able to double our output of fusion reactors and other vital supplies for the new colony. Keith thinks we might even be able to try to fiddle with one; we might even be able to unlock the command codes.”
Steve had to smile. Overcoming the restrictions on the fabricators would be useful, but it needed to be balanced against the risk of putting one of the fabricators out of commission permanently. The technology involved in producing one was far in advance of anything from Earth, although the researchers were starting to have an idea of how they worked. Duplicating one without a clear idea of what they were doing could take decades.
“Tell him to be very careful,” he said. “If nothing else, we can use the fusion reactors as bribes. Give them only to nations that recognise our independence and agree to respect our dominance in space.”
“The UN wants to talk to the aliens,” Kevin said, “but no one can agree on what message to send. If the Hordesmen come back, Steve, they’re going to be very confused.”
“Poor bastards,” Steve said, unsympathetically. As far as anyone could tell, the only time the Hordes bothered to be diplomatic was when they were facing vastly superior force. And even then, the Hordesmen who had made whatever diplomatic concessions were necessary were expected to kill themselves after making the deal. “But we won’t be bound by any promises the UN makes to the Hordes.”
“I’d like to set you up with a reporter or two,” Kevin added. “Like it or not, we have to shape the public relations battleground to our advantage ...”
“Why?” Steve asked. “What does it matter what sort of crap the reporters spew out about us?”
“I wasn't thinking of going to the MSM,” Kevin said. His voice tightened. “It matters, Steve, because we still need to recruit people from Earth. If they think of us as some new-age version of The Authority, they’re going to be fearful. We need them to consider us rational agents, not monsters. And if we can get public opinion on our side, it will make it harder for the governments to move against us.”
Steve scowled. He had to admit that Kevin had a point, but he didn't like it.
“Very well,” Steve said, finally. “But someone reasonable. I want to see the name before you make the arrangements.”
“Of course,” Kevin said. “And the meeting at the UN?”
“I will not be sucking their cocks,” Steve said. “You make it damn clear to them that if they treat us as naughty children who need a spanking we will simply walk out and to hell with the UN. We are an independent nation and will be treated as such.”
“They let the Libyan nut lecture them for hours,” Kevin said. “I think they can put up with you.”
He paused. “One other thing?”
Steve sighed. “What?”
“Take a break from trying to write the constitution in a day,” Kevin advised. “The Founding Fathers took over a hundred days. You cannot be expected to write a complete document for the ages in less than a couple of months. Frankly, you really need a carefully-selected committee and a complete absence of pressure.”
Steve snorted, but he took his brother’s point. “Read through what I’ve written so far, then let me know what you think,” he said. “And I’ll try to keep up with the news.”
***
“That’s definitely your face on television this time,” Mariko said, an hour later. She’d taken one look at his face and ordered him into bed, where she’d massaged him until he’d started to relax. “I think that's your photo from Boot Camp.”
“It is,” Steve said. He couldn't help noticing that the tagline claimed it was his High School graduation photograph, which was definitely a critical research failure. He'd never been to High School. “And I bet that reporter is coming down against me.”
“Or maybe he has a crush on you,” Mariko teased. “It's not that bad a photograph.”
Steve gave her a doubtful look. The photo had been taken four weeks into Boot Camp and he looked ghastly. His eyes were sunken, his face was pale and he looked suspiciously like a drug addict trying to resist the temptation to start taking drugs again. All things considered, it was a minor miracle Mariko managed to like it. But then, she did have strange taste in men.
He flipped through the channels, shaking his head. Both FOX and CNN seemed to have their doubts about the whole affair, suggesting their senior management hadn't quite decided which way to jump. The BBC reported the whole thing in tones that suggested that it was all a giant joke, despite the President’s speech, while Al Jazeera seemed to believe it was all a Western plot with dark motives. Online, some bloggers were tearing apart the President’s speech while others were pointing out the clear evidence of extraterrestrial life. It was a complete madhouse.
Turning back to the original reporter, it was clear that news teams were already heading towards the ranch. Steve had largely shut down family operations there, but there were still supplies moving towards the area for trans
port to space. Activating the interface, he sent orders to keep the reporters out of the ranch if possible – and, if not, to pull out completely and abandon the ranch. It would be painful, but he didn't want another incident. In hindsight, embarrassing the DHS so thoroughly might just have been a major mistake. There were already leaks from the Department, now the President had opened the floodgates.
He started to flip through channels again. A preacher he vaguely recognised was screaming about the End of Days, predicting fire, floods and nuclear disaster. In Washington, a crowd was gathering in front of the White House, although it was impossible to tell what – if anything – they wanted from the government. A handful of Congressmen and Senators were being interviewed, but it was clear that they knew little about what had been going on. Most of the comments included threats to impeach the President for not telling them about the starship and the existence of aliens.
“Business as usual, really,” he said.
Mariko nodded, then pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. “I’m a doctor,” she said, “even though I’ve felt as ignorant as a new intern over the last month or two.”
Steve nodded. Mariko had had to get used to using alien technology that did just about everything for the doctor, including mending old wounds and removing scars. It was so far in advance of human technology that all she really was in the ship’s sickbay was a button-pusher. Steve could understand her frustration with not really knowing what was happening when she used the technology, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“You are pushing yourself too hard,” Mariko continued. “You’re in the prime of health for a man your age – and the alien treatments will ensure you remain youthful for quite some time. But you are still pushing yourself too hard. The Head of Government cannot do everything on his own. You need to delegate more to your friends and allies.”
“I could appoint you Minster of Heath,” Steve said.
He gasped as Mariko poked a finger into his chest. “Be serious,” she said. “You’ve already had to hand recruitment over to Charles. Start handing over some other matters too. You won't do anyone any good if you work yourself into an early grave. Or don’t you want to give up control?”
Steve gritted his teeth. She was right, he knew. Part of him didn't want to give up control over the fundamentals of their new society. How could he trust anyone else to write the constitution? But, at the same time, he was pushing himself too hard.
“I understand,” he said. “I’ll see who I can find to help.”
Chapter Nineteen
New York, USA
After some careful diplomatic negotiation, it had been decided that Steve could beam directly into the United Nations itself, rather than face the gathering crowds outside the building. All of New York seemed to have come to a halt as protesters, in favour of Steve or against, had descended on the city. According to the reports Steve had seen, the NYPD – completely overwhelmed – had called for reinforcements from all over the State and convinced the Governor to call up the National Guard. It was still proving hard to control the crowds.
The silver light faded away, revealing a UN staffer who looked rather shocked by what he’d seen. Steve smiled at him, noted the man’s nametag – KOMURA – and then allowed the Japanese man to lead him towards the waiting room. According to Kevin, who had slipped bugs into the UN after the emergency session had been called, several ambassadors had been replaced in a hurry by more senior representatives, while hundreds of deals were being struck under the table. But then, Steve acknowledged, they’d done the same themselves. His representatives had spoken to several democratic governments, offering fusion and other technological goodies in exchange for recognition. He had a feeling that the overall response relied upon the outcome of the coming session.
“The Secretary-General will summon you in ten minutes,” Komura informed him. He looked as though he wanted to ask a few questions, but held his tongue. “Nothing about this is normal, I'm afraid.”
Steve nodded and waited until the man had made his escape, then checked the bracelet at his wrist. The force shield should protect him from anything up to and including an IED, but he was grimly aware that human ingenuity might find a way to break through it. Light passed through the shield, after all, and a teleport lock could be blocked fairly easily, even with human technology. The Secret Service had already started to broadcast radio signals through the White House, ensuring that Steve couldn't kidnap the President if the whim struck him.
He rolled his eyes at the thought. Why would he want the President?
It was nearly an hour before Komura returned and invited him to proceed into the General Assembly Chamber. Steve, who had been monitoring Kevin’s observations of the diplomats, wasn't surprised at the delay. The Russians had already lodged a strong complaint with the Security Council, backed up by China, while they were trying hard to line up other backers from the rest of the Assembly. In the meantime, the French seemed caught between the Russians and the promise of fusion technology, while Britain and Canada were reserving judgement. From what the President had said, there was too much political strife in America itself to make any promises about which way the United States would jump.
Steve had grown up in the countryside and he had never been able to understand why New Yorkers chose to cram so many people into so small a place. The old hints of claustrophobia came back in full force as he stepped into the chamber and faced the stares of the gathered diplomats, ambassadors and world leaders. Part of him wanted to trigger the emergency signal and teleport out, vanishing in a haze of silver light. Surely, facing the Taliban armed with only his fists would be easier than facing so many hostile stares.
They can't do anything to you, he told himself, firmly. And they can't stop you either.
But somehow the thought didn't help.
The silence shattered with an angry demand from the Russian Ambassador in Russian. It took the interface a few seconds to provide a translation – the Russian was complaining about the violation of the Outer Space Treaty – and in the meantime several other ambassadors started shouting too. The Chinese Ambassador seemed to believe that Steve had undermined his country’s laws, something that puzzled him, while several African ambassadors were railing against the white man. But it was hard to be sure. Everything was just blurring together into a god-awful racket.
There was a loud banging from the General Secretary’s seat. “Order,” he snapped, as the room started to quieten down. “Mr. Stuart. You have been ... invited here to give your side of the story.”
Steve smiled. “You make it sound as though I am on trial,” he said, gathering himself. He wasn't naive enough to believe that the General Secretary had any real power. If the five permanent members of the Security Council agreed, they could do whatever they damn well pleased. “Might I ask what the charges are?”
There were some titters from the reporters, but the diplomats remained silent.
“It is our intention,” Steve said, when it became clear that no one else was going to speak, “to establish a new nation covering the solar system, one capable of defending the human race against alien threats and taking humanity to the stars. We do not intend to become embroiled in affairs on Earth, nor do we recognise the existence of treaties intended to limit the development of outer space.”
“Those treaties were signed by your country,” the Russian Ambassador bellowed.
“The human race is not alone,” Steve continued, ignoring him. “There are over ten thousand alien races out there, some of whom have already kidnapped humans from Earth and turned them into living weapons. Others will see us as a threat ... or a prize to be won. And, right now, Earth’s defences rest in our hands. There is nothing the massed might of the United Nations” – he fought down the urge to let loose an undiplomatic snigger – “can do to protect the planet, if one of the Galactics decide they want it.
“You speak of international treaties and accuse us of breaking them. The Galactics a
re not signatory to any of our treaties, nor should we expect them to respect our legal positions. We do not, yet, have the force necessary to hold our own. It is our priority – and it should be the priority of the entire planet – to build both that defensive force and a society capable of facing the galaxy calmly, but confidently. That is our task.
“We invite other humans, individual humans, to join us. Give us those who want to build a new world, those with the dreams that will take them to the stars, those who wish something more than the hidebound governments of Earth can provide. We will take all who are willing to fit into our society and work to defend Earth.”
He paused, long enough to realise that he had captured the attention of everyone in the vast chamber. “You have demanded that we hand over the ships and technology to you,” he said, looking at the Russian and Chinese representatives. “We must refuse to comply with your request. Quite apart from the grim awareness of just what you would do with the technology that has fallen into our hands, we have no faith in the governments of Earth. How could this organisation, an organisation that produces little beyond corruption and paperwork, hope to coordinate the defence of the entire world?
A Learning Experience Page 19