The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “The crowds are getting bigger,” Tyler muttered, as the aircar made its way back to the embassy. “And noisier.”

  Rebecca nodded. The embassy was surrounded by crowds; some holding up placards marked in a dozen different languages, some just watching and waiting for something to happen. It looked about as spontaneous as a pro-government rally in a rogue state, where all the protesters were paid and everything from pre-printed placards to flags for burning were handed out by the organisers. Quite why any of the rogue governments believed the protests influenced opinion in the Solar Union was beyond her ...

  She shook her head. The gathering crowds could not have materialised without someone in the planetary government either authorising them or simply turning a blind eye. And she’d seen enough evidence of just how determined the government was to retain control that she refused to believe that the crowds weren't authorised. The Kingdom of Harmonious Order was so repressive that even the Soviet Union looked a model of freedom, compared to the alien society. There was no way the general population could organise a protest march without being squashed ruthlessly. If there was an underground movement, according to her staff, it was buried deep below the surface.

  Which makes sense, she thought, as the aircar flew over the walls and dropped down to the landing pad. They have no way of finding allies without being detected and arrested.

  It wasn't a pleasant thought, she had to admit. Back home, the datanet was almost completely unregulated. Anyone could say anything on a datanet forum without fear of arrest, although it was also true that hardly anyone was given credence unless they attached their name to their posts. She could organise a political movement, for better or worse, in the comfort of her sitting room. But here ... the datanet was so rigorously monitored that anyone who sent an encrypted message - or even a message that looked a little suspicious - could expect to have to answer some very uncomfortable questions. The government’s control pervaded everything.

  She climbed out of the aircar and walked through the main door. Her implants blinked up a series of alerts as the sterilising field flickered to life, sweeping over her body before vanishing again. The marine on the far side of the security field beckoned her through, then pointed to his portable terminal. Rebecca’s body was covered in red flecks of light.

  “Over thirty bugs today,” the marine said, cheerfully. His name was John, Rebecca remembered. He was friendly, but also very professional. “And twenty-seven on Mr. Tyler.”

  “I must be getting more important,” Tyler said, amused. His light tone couldn't conceal his concern. “Did you promote me when I wasn't looking?”

  “Your new title is Assistant Paperwork Filer,” Rebecca said. “It comes with a pay cut and extra hours.”

  Her skin itched. She knew she was imagining it, but it still itched. She needed a shower and a good night’s sleep. “Did you get all of the bugs?”

  “As far as I can tell,” John said. He tapped his terminal, meaningfully. “There’s no trace of anything left, but they might have managed to power down a bug or two before you walked through the field.”

  “The security sweeps will pick it up,” Rebecca said. She glanced at Tyler. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Of course, Madam Ambassador,” Tyler said.

  He nodded to her, then hurried down the corridor. Rebecca followed him at a more sedate pace, silently composing her report. There wasn't much to say. They’d been given a tour of yet another industrial complex, followed by a pair of museums showcasing the kingdom’s achievements before the Tokomak had invented the stardrive and turned galactic society on its head. She would have enjoyed the latter, she thought, if they hadn't been such obvious propaganda pieces. Entire swathes of history had been glossed over to promote the kingdom’s preferred narrative.

  And we saw too many poor people struggling to survive, she thought. The sense of pure hopelessness had been overpowering. Even the worst places on Earth hadn't been quite so bad. This place has been stripped of all hope for far too long.

  She walked into her suite, checked the processor for any new messages from Odyssey, then undressed and stepped into the shower. The water ran down her skin, making her feel better even though she knew that - too - was her imagination. If a nanotech bug had managed to remain attached to her, despite the security sweep, it wouldn't be dislodged by a tidal wave of water. Rebecca shivered at the thought, despite the warmth. She could leave at any moment and go back home, while the locals were trapped. They would spend the rest of their days in a giant prison camp, their every word and deed monitored 24/7. It was utterly maddening.

  Her implants threw up another message. Tyler was trying to call her. “Yes?”

  “Madam Ambassador, we just received a message from the local diplomatic service,” Tyler said. “The king wishes to see you. Immediately.”

  Rebecca blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected to meet the king personally, only his representatives. The endless dance of galactic diplomacy certainly didn't allow ambassadors to meet planetary rulers, even ceremonially. Everything she’d seen had led her to believe that the Harmonies would sooner have surrendered unconditionally than break the rules of galactic diplomacy. If nothing else, representatives could be quietly overridden if they conceded too much. Meeting the king in person ...

  Her mouth was suddenly dry. “Inform the diplomats that we will attend him as soon as possible,” she said, swallowing hard. What were they playing at? Normally, a meeting between high-ranking representatives would be choreographed a week in advance. And a meeting with the king himself was unprecedented. “And then have the aircar put on alert, with a marine escort ...”

  “They are requesting a quiet meeting,” Tyler said. “They’ve already cleared you and one aide through the security zone.”

  Rebecca gritted her teeth as she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. “I see,” she said. A covert meeting made some sense, perhaps. “They don’t want any inconvenient witnesses?”

  “Or escorts,” Tyler said.

  They might want to take me prisoner, Rebecca mused. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. If the Harmonies wanted to capture or kill the diplomatic mission, they didn't have to resort to trickery. They were trapped on the surface, while their starship was trapped in low orbit. They could blow Odyssey away in seconds if they wished.

  She finished drying herself, then donned her robe. “Inform Captain Yasser that we will be accepting their invitation,” she said. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew they needed to find out. “And then ready the aircar for immediate departure.”

  “Of course, Ambassador,” Tyler said.

  Rebecca took a moment to centre herself, then checked her appearance in the mirror. The Harmonies were stiff-necked enough to use any flaw in her appearance against her, if they wanted to end the talks. But then, the talks hadn't even started yet! She drew on her implants for a long moment, using them to flush the last of the tiredness out of her body. She’d pay for it later, she was sure, but there was no choice. She needed to be alert when she faced the king.

  A new set of messages popped up in her implants as she strode back towards the main door, each one warning of potential disaster. She didn't blame the marines - or her staff - for being concerned, but they had to accept the invitation. Perhaps something had happened in orbit ... she checked the latest set of reports from the orbiting starship, seeing nothing that might explain the sudden change in policy. Maybe something had happened further down the gravity point chain. She hoped, as she clambered into the aircar, that the Tokomak hadn't begun an offensive. The Harmonies had fortified the gravity points, but the Tokomak could push through if they were willing to soak up the casualties. They could afford to trade a thousand starships for one and still come out ahead.

  As Captain Yasser keeps reminding me, she thought, wryly. But could anyone hope to soak up such losses indefinitely?

  She forced herself to relax as the aircar rose into the air - guided by th
e automated air traffic control system - and headed north, towards the Imperial Palace. There was little protocol for meeting the king, save for a handful of guidelines for meetings between different heads of state. None of them were particularly helpful. She was neither going as an equal - she was a mere representative - nor was she going to pay homage to her superior. She'd just have to wing it and hope she avoided any catastrophic mistakes. It would have been exciting, she thought, if the meeting hadn’t promised to be dangerous.

  The aircar passed through a dozen layers of security before dropping down and landing neatly on an isolated landing pad. A team of security officers waved a dozen sensors over their bodies, before - reluctantly - allowing them to proceed through the nearest door. They were silent, but her implants picked up dozens of encrypted burst transmissions ... clearly, they were at least as heavily augmented as herself. A lone alien wearing a long silver robe and the insignia of a senior diplomatic official met her on the far side, his face expressionless. And yet, there was something about the way he moved that suggested he was agitated.

  Of course he is, she thought, feeling an odd flicker of sympathy. All the normal rules of diplomatic discourse have gone out the airlock.

  She tried hard not to look around too obviously as they were led through a dizzying series of doors and corridors. The Imperial Palace was strikingly barren, lacking the paintings, sculptures or trophies that decorated the other buildings she’d seen. She puzzled over it for a long moment, finally deciding that the king didn't need to showcase his power. Merely controlling the Imperial Palace - and the administrative centre below it - was enough to make it clear he was in charge.

  “Your aide will wait here,” the alien said, as they stopped outside a pair of solid metal doors. It was the first thing he’d said to her. “You will enter alone.”

  Rebecca hesitated, then nodded. Her implants were reporting an increasing number of jamming fields, but not enough to keep her from recording the entire meeting. Tyler and the rest of her staff would have plenty of time to study the meeting ... assuming, of course, she returned alive. She shot Tyler a reassuring look as the doors opened, then turned and stepped into a blindingly white room. The doors slammed closed behind her a second later.

  “Greetings,” a flat voice said. “I bid you welcome.”

  She peered forward, silently grateful that her eyes were adapting to the light. The chamber was white, completely white. A lone alien, dressed in a long white robe, stood in the exact centre. His head - his uncovered head - was surprisingly human-like, although it looked a little out of proportion. He wore no crown, no badge of rank ... and yet, there was an air of authority surrounding them.

  “Your Majesty,” she managed. “I thank you for the invitation.”

  The king bowed his head, then gestured. Rebecca’s implants flashed up an alert, reporting the presence of a teleport field, a moment before two chairs shimmered into existence. The king motioned for her to take one, then took the other for himself. Rebecca sat, feeling a little nervous. There was no protocol for this at all.

  “These are hard times for the galaxy,” the king said, when they were seated. “Your race has destroyed a great many old certainties.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Rebecca managed, carefully. It was impossible to read the king’s emotions. “We had no choice.”

  “You could have submitted,” the king said. “But your race is uniquely disruptive.”

  It would be nice to believe that, Rebecca knew. The idea that there was something unique about humanity, something that made humans special ... But there wasn't, not really. The Galactics might have trapped themselves in a socio-political cul-de-sac, but they weren't really any more or less intelligent - or disruptive - than humanity. Given time - and the incentive to adapt to a whole new universe - they’d start pushing the limits just as much as the Solar Union.

  “Submission would mean death, Your Majesty,” Rebecca said, finally. She had to say something. “Either the destruction of our entire race or the death of everything that makes us what we are.”

  “You have changed much,” the king said. He didn't respond to her comment, making her wonder if he was running down a long script. “Your technology has advanced alarmingly.”

  “We saw potentials in GalTech that others missed,” Rebecca said. “Other races could do the same.”

  But, in all honesty, she wondered if that was actually true. If humanity did have an advantage, it lay in imagination. The Solar Union had drawn on the unpaid and largely unacknowledged imaginations of countless science-fiction writers. But who among the Galactics would have believed that the gravity trap had been envisaged nearly thirty years before Contact? None of them had encouraged writers to push the limits of the acceptable.

  “Perhaps,” the king mused.

  Rebecca studied him for a long moment, wondering if she dared ask him directly what was going on. What was the point? They’d summoned a human diplomatic mission ... was there something they wanted? Or ... or what? Surely, no one would go to so much trouble just to waste time. They were already beyond the limits of diplomacy ...

  “We would not have believed that one race could cause so much disruption,” the king added, slowly. “Nor that you could come so far so fast.”

  “The Tokomak did, Your Majesty,” Rebecca said.

  She’d hoped to see a reaction, any reaction. But there was none.

  “We have been informed that you are building an alliance of other junior races,” the king said, instead. “You are sharing your technology with them.”

  “Some of it, Your Majesty,” Rebecca said. She’d been warned it was unlikely that anything humanity had invented would remain exclusive for long. Knowing something was possible was half the battle. It was one of the reasons the Solar Union was putting so much work into research and development. “We are hoping to stand up to the Tokomak when they return to our sector.”

  The king’s head moved, very slightly. A reaction ... but a reaction to what?

  “We require access to your technology,” the king stated, bluntly. “You will give it to us.”

  Rebecca - somehow - managed to keep her face impassive. There was no way the Solar Union would just give their technology to anyone, even though there was a very good chance that a number of Galactics were already experimenting with their own versions. The king seemed to believe humanity would hand it over on demand ... did he really believe that or was he pushing her, trying to see how far she would go?

  “Our technology is only traded to our allies, Your Majesty,” she said, carefully. She had very little leeway at all. The analysts had speculated that the Harmonies would want human technology - they were badly outnumbered by the Tokomak and knew it - but there was no way her superiors would sign off on any technological transfers without a signed agreement and some proof it would actually be upheld. “Are you interesting in allying with us?”

  The king said nothing. Rebecca wondered what he was thinking. His face was almost completely unmoving - and even if she could have picked out an expression on his alien face, she knew it could easily be misleading. But what was he thinking? Did he expect the Solar Union to fall over itself to just give him the technology? Or was he playing hardball so he could make a show of granting concessions later? There was no way to know.

  “We do not ally ourselves with anyone,” the king said, finally. “We have no equals.”

  “The universe has changed, Your Majesty,” Rebecca pointed out. She deliberately echoed the king’s words. “Old certainties are falling everywhere.”

  “That is true,” the king agreed. “But it is also true that we rule an immense sphere, while you control a handful of stars a long way from the centre of galactic power. Your race and mine are not equals. Our assistance comes at a price.”

  “Our technology,” Rebecca said.

  She leaned forward. “Your Majesty, it will take the Tokomak Navy two weeks to reach your space and invade,” she added. “It would take them nine month
s to reach us. Your proximity to the centre of galactic power is a liability.”

  The king showed no visible reaction, but she had the oddest sense he was laughing at her, as if she’d said something funny. But what? The Harmonies had no reason to dismiss the Tokomak so lightly. They’d rebelled against a galactic order that had existed for thousands of years. They needed humanity’s assistance more than humanity needed theirs ... didn’t they?

  “A new universe is taking shape, Your Majesty,” she said. “Your old status means nothing to the new order. You can no longer look down on the younger races.”

  The king still looked impassive. “Then we will talk,” he said. “And see what we can decide.”

  Somehow, Rebecca was not reassured.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The problem here, of course, is that we might not be able to delay them long enough to put together an unbeatable advantage. Let us be honest - we have no monopoly on wild imagination, let alone researchers and engineers who can turn absurd concepts into practical technologies. The longer we wait to safeguard our position, the greater the chance the hammer will come slamming down.