Being a Horde Commander sometimes meant admitting that there were battles that couldn't be won. It was something that would have shocked the vast majority of his followers, who would have preferred death to dishonour. But the Horde Commander understood just how much their nomadic life depended on the more civilised Galactics. If galactic society as a whole decided to eradicate the Hordes, they could do so simply by refusing to sell their wares to the nomads or exterminating them outright through military force. There were times when it was wiser to back down than risk a fight they couldn't win.
But this was something different. The humans either had support from one of the Galactics or they were becoming an interstellar power in their own right. Either way, they had to know the truth – and they had to know what had happened to the missing starships. And they had to do it before the humans found too many allies among the stars. If one or more of the major powers backed them, the Horde would have no choice, but to swallow the insult and return to their wandering ways.
It wasn't something many of his subordinates would have understood, he knew. The Horde Commander, they thought, spent half of his time enjoying the perks of his position. He had the finest cuts of food, the best-looking women and the right to have as many children as he wished. But he also had to swallow his pride, while manipulating events so someone else took the blame. He couldn't show weakness in front of his followers or they would start sharpening knives, largely unaware that the Hordes were weak, compared to the Galactics
They dreamed of pillaging their way across the stars, looting and ransacking whole planets. But the Horde Commander knew the truth. They were, at best, scavengers, scavengers utterly dependent on the Galactics. There was no way they could ravage the entire galaxy.
But they needed to know what had happened to their missing starships.
He looked down at the messenger, who had remained in the Posture of Ultimate Respect, extending his head for the sword, if necessary. The Horde Commander felt a pang of ... pity, almost regret. He knew just how futile it was to kill the messenger, yet he also felt the same lust for adventure, reckless adventure, that his subordinates shared. Wouldn't it feel good, he knew, to throw caution to the winds and just pillage the nearest worlds? But he knew they would never escape the Galactics when they retaliated.
“Inform my slaves,” he said. His subordinates were his slaves, as long as he remained strong. But then, slaves had to be constantly reminded of their place. “We will go to Earth.”
He watched the messenger crawl out of the compartment, then turned to look at the holographic display. Thirty starships, five of them ten kilometres long, looked an impressive force, but he knew just how many starships the Galactics could deploy. And to think he ruled one of the larger Hordes. The Galactics could have built a fleet an order of magnitude larger than his own without raising a sweat.
Go to Earth, find out what happened and back off, if necessary, he thought. He clicked his claws in irritation. It would be easier if I went alone.
But that wouldn't be possible, he knew. No matter what orders he gave, the entire Horde now knew they’d lost three ships. They would demand some kind of retaliation, perhaps against a completely innocent target. And if he didn't give them their retaliation, they might well try to overthrow him and take power for themselves. The Horde could not afford a major power struggle in interstellar space. Rumour had it that one Horde had managed to destroy itself through a civil war in their starships, opening them to the vacuum of space.
And if the humans were innocent ...?
He snapped his claws together, then turned and walked towards the hatch. It didn't matter, he knew. Someone had to pay. And why not a race that couldn't fight back?
***
“This,” Mariko said, “is the life.”
Steve shrugged, then smiled. He had honestly never considered leaving the United States after he retired from the military, but he had to admit that Mariko was right. The unnamed island, one of thousands that made up the Maldives, was genuinely beautiful. There were shimmering white sands, patches of jungle and a couple of huts on stilts above the water, looking both primitive and modern. Inside, there were beds, a fridge and a small stockpile of microwavable food. There was no one else on the island at all.
He leaned back in his deckchair, allowing the sun to beat down on his exposed chest. It had taken weeks of nagging, from Mariko as well as Kevin, to convince him to take a holiday, but he'd definitely needed it. Relaxing, taking the time to recharge his batteries and consider the future without worrying about the present, seemed to have done him a world of good. It helped that he trusted the people he’d left in charge while he was gone, he decided. He made a mental note to insist that Kevin, Mongo and the others took holidays once he returned home.
The thought struck him, suddenly. When had the starship become home?
He couldn't help feeling that he'd betrayed the American Stuarts. His family had built the ranch, after all, and contributed to the town that had grown up nearby. They’d placed great stock in the ranch, relying on it to serve as a training ground for generation upon generation of Stuarts. But he’d practically walked away from the ranch, converting it into an off-world embassy and then a recruitment centre for prospective lunar settlers. He’d never even been able to consider leaving the ranch before.
But Earth felt small and oppressive compared to the boundless vastness of interstellar space.
There are cousins, he thought. Several of them had gone into hiding – or travelled to the moon – when the reporters had started sniffing around, trying to score interviews on the subject of Steve’s family life prior to joining the military. The others had sniffed at the very idea of leaving Montana, certainly leaving the state permanently. One of them could take the ranch, if Steve’s children – or Mongo’s children – didn't want to take it for themselves. As long as it stayed in the family, Steve suspected, the ghosts of his ancestors wouldn't care.
He made a mental note to ask his children about it, then stood and looked over towards the shimmering blue waves. There was something about the gentle lapping of water against the sand that was almost relaxing, even though it also reminded him of crawling through the marshes at night, years ago. Pushing the thought out of his head, he walked towards the water and allowed the waves to wash over his feet, slipping and sliding as the sand shifted under his weight. Bracing himself, he stepped further into the water until he could swim properly, then started to swim around the entire island. It was small enough that he could circumnavigate it in less than ten minutes.
It wasn't a challenging swim, something he found mildly disappointing. But the island had been billed as a private resort, a place where someone would have to be very stupid or unlucky to get themselves killed. Compared to some of the training he’d done, it was pathetic. But it was fun to relax, just for a while. Maybe, he told himself, he'd swim out to sea later and see what happened out there, past the barrier reef. If worst came to worst, he still had the interface. He could signal for emergency teleport if necessary.
Mariko waved to him as he came back into view, after swimming around the hut and coming back into the lagoon. Steve sucked in his breath, then powered through the water towards where she was standing, at the very edge of the water. She looked timeless, somehow, utterly beautiful despite the straightness of her body. Steve didn't care about the size of her breasts, or the boyish hips, merely the essence that was her. He came charging out of the water and ran towards her.
Afterwards, they returned to the hut and hunted through the fridge for something tasty. Steve hadn't expected much from the microwave, but the pre-prepared foods were actually surprisingly nice, far better than any of the TV dinners he’d eaten on leave. It had puzzled him until Mariko pointed out that most people who visited the island would be wealthy enough to afford the best, as well as absolute privacy. Steve didn't want to think about how much they were spending, even if it was cheap compared to the constant flow of money in and out of the lunar
colony. He hadn't been raised to spend money excessively.
He smiled at the thought. His grandmother would have sneered at the very idea of going on holiday. To her, fifty or sixty miles from the ranch was foreign territory. God alone knew what sort of infidels lived there. But then, she’d been the daughter of a soldier, married to another soldier and mother of yet more soldiers. Most of her opinions of the outside world would have been shaped by their stories of the less-pleasant parts of the planet. Wars, after all, seldom showed places to their best advantage.
“I read the guidebook,” Mariko said. She nodded towards the plastic containers. “None of this is remotely local.”
Steve wasn't too surprised. Some people travelled to experience, but others merely went somewhere – like him – to recharge their batteries. The latter wouldn't want strange foreign food when they could have American-style meals shipped in from the United States. Steve wasn't too sure what to make of it. He’d eaten some strange things in Iraq – and he had to admit there was comfort in the familiar – but why go halfway around the world to eat food they could have found anywhere at home?
“Maybe we should go to Mali later,” he said. They did have a speedboat, after all, or they could simply teleport to the city-island. “See what we can find that’s more local.”
Mariko shrugged as she placed the trays in the microwave and turned it on. “I don’t think I’d like it,” she confessed. “The whole island is one giant city.”
Steve nodded in agreement. It was odd, but most of his memories of large cities were marred by war. He’d spent more time in Bagdad and Fallujah than he’d spent in Washington or New York. Why would anyone, he'd asked himself as a child, choose to live in the cities when they could live in the countryside instead? But most people, he knew now, couldn't afford to live in the country. And, when they did, they started trying to change it to fit some ideal they’d gleaned from watching bad movies and reading junk science.
He smiled at the thought. That was one thing Heinlein Colony – and the smaller Wells Colony on Mars - had already experienced, although from people on Earth rather than settlers on the moon. They whined about terraforming the planet, they whined about mining for water and HE3, they whined about setting up farms ... as if they could afford to import food from Earth indefinitely. Didn't people have enough troubles of their own to keep them busy?
Mariko cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. “What do you want to eat?”
Steve hastily replayed her words in his mind. She'd asked if he wanted curry or microwavable burgers. “Curry,” he said, quickly. Like most women in his experience, Mariko got annoyed if she thought she was being ignored. “It will make a change.”
“And you make better burgers of your own anyway,” Mariko teased. “Far better than anything you get in the cities, right?”
Steve nodded. Her skill at reading his face was remarkable.
He stood and walked towards the balcony as she put the food in the microwave, staring out over the endless blue sea. In the distance, he could see waves breaking over the barrier reef that shielded the island from the ocean and tiny lights where other inhabited islands were preparing for darkness. They had sometimes heard planes flying overhead, but apart from the boat that had brought them to the island they’d seen no other boats. The resort owners kept all traffic away from their islands, jealously guarding their right to ship travellers to and from the resorts.
And make sure they collect as much money as they can, Steve thought, cynically. The Maldives had been largely isolated from the Middle Eastern economic depression, but they'd once had Arab Princes coming to the islands for a holiday away from public observance of Islamic Law. Officially, the islands were Islamic, but money talked louder than the Qur’an, particularly when the area was dependent on tourists. But now, there were few Arab Princes who had the funds to spare for a holiday. The smarter ones had already fled the region for Europe. There, at least, they would be safe from their vengeful populations.
There was a ding from the microwave. Steve turned, just in time to see Mariko pull the containers out of the machine and pour the contents onto the plates. She picked them both up and walked over to the balcony, passing Steve his plate as she walked through the door. A cool wind was blowing over the sea now, something of a relief after the heat of the day. Steve sat on the steps leading down to the water and smiled at her. After a moment, she joined him and sat down to eat.
“This isn't too bad,” Steve said. Compared to some of the curries he’d eaten in Iraq, it was downright mild. The Marines had joked that the Iraqis deliberately made the curries hot as a test of manliness. Steve, however, recalled the medic saying that the meat wasn't always the best, which explained outbreaks of the dreaded D&V. The spice often helped cover up the poor quality of meat. “It could be worse.”
Mariko elbowed him. “It could be better too, couldn't it?”
Steve shrugged, placed his empty plate on the floor and put his arm around her as the stars began to come out. High overhead, the stars competed with the reflected light from humanity’s vastly expanded presence in space. Two fast-moving glints of light were almost certainly inflatable space stations, while others might well be the freighters Friend had sent them or one of the captured warships. Steve smiled, unpleasantly, as he contemplated the freighters. Human ingenuity, matched with alien technology, had started preparing a few nasty surprises for anyone who wanted to invade the Sol System. He had no illusions about the outcome if the Galactics really wanted Earth, but the bastards would have to fight to take the planet. And, even then, parts of humanity would be free.
He smiled, remembering just how many men and women had gone out to the asteroids over the past month. The MSM had called them everything from dupes to suicidal fools, but Steve knew better. They understood the risks, yet they were prepared to chance everything to make a new life for themselves in the new Wild West. Many of them would die, Steve knew, but they would make history. And hidden colonies among the asteroids would help ensure the survival of the human race.
The thought made him smile. A year or two would allow him to produce a generational starship, one that could be launched out into the galaxy at STL speeds. If something really bad happened to Earth, the starship would survive and – hopefully – set up a new colony somewhere else. And, when they had more FTL starships, one of them would convey a colony mission well beyond the edges of galactic space.
They stayed outside until the moon began to rise, then stood up and went inside. Steve kissed her on the lips, then pulled her towards the bed. Mariko smiled, then kissed him back. Steve gently reached down to her bikini and started to undo it, kissing his way down to her nipples and enjoying the taste of her in his mouth. And then the interface buzzed.
“Steve, it’s Kevin,” a voice said. Steve bit down the urge to swear virulently. Kevin didn't have any idea of what he’d interrupted. “We have a political problem.”
“I should have known,” Steve commented. He reached for his dressing gown and pulled it on. Beside him, Mariko did the same. “I relax and look what happens.”
He sighed. “Two to beam up,” he added. “And this had damn well better be important.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Shadow Warrior, Earth Orbit
Kevin had been trained, long ago, in reading the subtle signs of their body language. A person pretending to be annoyed, his tutors had taught him, tended to overact as badly as a child actor and start shouting in outrage at the drop of a hat. Body language wasn't entirely universal – it hadn't been universal even before the humans had first encountered the Galactics – but there were plenty of points of similarity. And all of his training was telling him that Steve was very definitely annoyed.
He looked at Mariko. Unlike Steve, she was more composed, but there was a faint flush to her face that told Kevin precisely what they’d been doing when he’d interrupted them. Kevin sighed, inwardly, silently cursing their bad luck. If the whole affair had waited a fe
w more days, Steve could have dealt with it without having to deal with sexual frustration too. Or, perhaps, nipped it in the bud before it got out of hand.
“This could become a major problem,” Kevin said, once they were seated in Steve’s cabin. “And it needs to be handled carefully.”
“No one has ever accused me of being subtle,” Steve commented, dryly. “Why didn't you handle it yourself?”
Kevin sighed, out loud. “Because this requires your personal attention,” he said. “Because it could have a major long-term effect on our relationship with Earth’s various governments. Because ...”
Steve held up a hand. “All right,” he said. “What – precisely – has happened?”
“We’ve had a request for asylum,” Kevin said.
“Oh,” Steve said. “Another one?”
Kevin scowled. The previous requests had been from men and women fleeing political, economic, religious or sexual persecution. They’d all been given the same chance to make it on the moon, with an added note that they would not be permitted to interfere in the affairs of their former home countries. Quite a few of them had accepted the warning, one or two had tried to steer events back home from the moon before they’d been given a sharp rebuke for breaking the terms of their citizenship. But this was different.
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