He smirked. The Varnar Datanet wasn't that different from the human system; there were vast sections that could be deemed to be under supervision, but entire segments that were rogue, completely out of any form of control. It wasn't easy tending to the needs of an entire planet, even if the Varnar were more homogenous than humans. And besides, a large percentage of the planet’s population were non-Varnar.
“There are copies everywhere by now,” Sally said. “I would hazard a guess that over a third of the planet has seen the raw recordings.”
“Good,” Kevin said. “And how are the Tokomak planning to respond?”
“They’ve said nothing, yet,” Sally said. “It's only been a couple of days since the news arrived. They may still be thinking about their response.”
Kevin frowned. The Tokomak, according to the captured ship’s files, had only one response to any challenge to their power. They sent a fleet of starships to deal with the challenge swiftly, brutally and effectively. He’d assumed – and Mongo had done the same – that the Tokomak would try to recover Hades at once, sending a fleet of cruisers to the occupied world. It was their most likely course of action.
But they hadn't bothered to react, as far as he could tell. That worried him.
“It’s possible,” he said. “But they shouldn't have had to think!”
“They must have been shocked by the battle,” Sally pointed out, dryly. “Even the most ossified system would rethink its priorities after such a nasty shock.”
“I suppose,” Kevin said, doubtfully.
He stood up and started to pace, thinking hard. On the face of it, the Varnar hadn't even lost a percentage point of their fleet. There was no reason to think the Battle of Hades altered the balance of power. But ... their reputation for invincibility was their greatest asset. Losing it had to sting ... and, more importantly, would encourage anyone else who hated them to go for their throats. By now, word would be spreading through space, heading towards their empire and countless subject races. How many of them would rebel when they heard the Tokomak were not invincible after all?
“Mr. Ando had a message for you,” Sally said. “There are some people he would like you to meet.”
Kevin turned to face her. “Who?”
“He wouldn’t say,” Sally said. “But he assured me that you would find it in your best interests to attend.”
“I see,” Kevin said. He considered it, rapidly. Who would Mr. Ando want him to meet? An ally? Or someone who might be talked into becoming an ally? “Very well. Where do we have to go?”
“It’s at 1700, if you want to attend,” Sally said. “He advised you to wear a disguise. I brought a couple along, if you are interested.”
She hadn't answered the real question, Kevin noted. He wondered if she was deliberately keeping something from him – or if she didn't actually know. Mr. Ando might well have decided to tell her nearer the time, to prevent an accidental betrayal. Or maybe she hadn't quite understood what he’d asked her, which seemed unlikely. Sally was one of the sharpest people he’d had to deal with, outside the SIA.
It seemed pointless to ask more questions, so he allowed her to lead him into the bedroom and show him the disguises. They were nothing more than masks and monkish cloaks, but he understood the moment he saw them. One of the most prominent galactic religions insisted that all of its adherents wore the same outfits, in the hopes of minimising all differences between them. They believed, Kevin recalled, that all intelligence was sacred and differences between the races only made it harder for everyone to get along. The Solar Union would probably have agreed with them, if it had had the chance. It was astonishing how irrelevant racism became when someone could change their skin colour to green or purple at will.
“Follow close behind me,” Sally ordered, once they were dressed. “And don’t take off your mask without permission.”
Kevin had – once – worn a burka when he’d walked through Mecca, on one of his more covert missions in the Middle East. It had been exciting, in many ways; Mecca was denied to unbelievers, so discovery would probably have meant certain death. The thought had amused him at the time – he would not have called the House of Saud believers - but now it was just stupid. All his work had been wasted, thanks to bureaucrats in Washington.
Sally led him unhesitatingly down into the lower regions of the city, where the poor and powerless congregated and begged for alms. Kevin looked from side to side, feeling growing pity for the inhabitants, even as he kept his distance from anyone who looked dangerous. A few of them called out to him, offering everything from sex to drugs, but the remainder generally ignored him. Below them, a handful of dead bodies lay on the ground, waiting for someone to come and turn them into food. Taboos against cannibalism – not shared by all of the Galactics – would not be enough to stop the poor from tearing into dead flesh. It might make the difference between life and death.
Sickened, Kevin forced himself to keep his eyes firmly on Sally’s behind as she walked faster and faster. He’d seen poverty on Earth, poverty that had been unimaginable in America, but this was an order of magnitude worse. Part of him had always believed that advanced aliens would have solved all their social woes, but the Tokomak hadn't even tried. There had been no attempt to help the poor, even with free food and drink. He understood the dangers of government charity – Steve hadn't had to convince him of that – and yet surely someone should try to help.
But there are limits, he thought. We can’t create a post-scarcity society just yet.
Sally stopped outside an unmarked door and tapped once, loudly. It opened a moment later, revealing a spider-like alien who glowered at the pair of them through eyes on stalks. Kevin forced down his instinctive reaction – the spider seemed to trigger every last one of his long-buried phobias – and followed Sally as she stepped past the creature and into a small sitting room. Most of the furniture looked child-sized; the only exceptions were a pair of chairs, which looked to have been produced for someone much larger than the average human. But the child-sized furniture was more than enough to tell him who – or rather what – they were going to meet.
“Take off your mask,” Sally ordered. “They’ll want to see you.”
Kevin nodded and obeyed, then grimaced in disgust. The air smelled of rotting spice, a stench that made him want to cough. Somehow, he managed to keep his reaction under control, using his implants to dampen his sense of smell. Moments later, as he sat down, the door opened, revealing four Varnar. They all wore the same grey overalls, leaving him completely unable to tell them apart. Thankfully, they had much the same trouble with humans.
“We greet you,” the lead Varnar said. Kevin mentally tagged him Number One. “You are speaking for your race?”
“I am empowered to discuss certain matters, yes,” Kevin said. The Varnar had always given him the creeps, if only because they bore a certain resemblance to Little Grey Aliens. There were quite a few people who suspected that wasn't a coincidence. “And yourselves?”
“We are empowered to speak on behalf of the Varnar Hive,” Number One said. “But they do not speak for us.”
Kevin sighed, inwardly. What the hell did that mean? He’d thought talking with Arabs, Chinese or Japanese could be hard but aliens were ... well, alien. And the Varnar, despite being humanoid, thought very differently to humans. They did things that made no sense to any human and, when asked, claimed it was perfectly normal. And perhaps it was, for them.
“You requested this meeting,” Kevin said. “I assume you wish to discuss the war.”
“That is correct,” Number Two said. “The war has taken a turn we find disadvantageous.”
“Yes,” Kevin agreed. “If we win, you will have to come to terms with us; if we lose, the Tokomak will seek to control you more thoroughly than they already do. You can only come out ahead if you talk to us.”
“Which bears the risk of being destroyed by the Tokomak,” Number Three stated. “Can your race win the war?”
“We believe we can,” Kevin said, flatly. “I won’t go into details.”
It had crossed his mind that the meeting could be a trap. Mr. Ando could have been paid through the nose to arrange it, or he might be an innocent dupe. Kevin knew, without false modesty, that he probably wouldn't have been able to escape a trap ... and Julian and the others had strict orders not to try to save his life. He would have no option, but immediate suicide. They couldn't take the risk of him being interrogated and forced to spill everything he knew.
“That is understandable,” Number Four said.
Kevin smiled to himself. Did they have to speak in sequence? Or were they playing games with his mind?
“I would urge you to join us,” Kevin said. “However, you would not want to take the risk of switching sides before the Tokomak are defeated.”
All four Varnar lowered their heads slowly. “That is correct,” Number One said. “We do not want to face the Tokomak alone.”
“I understand,” Kevin said. “I have seen such reluctance before.”
It had been a common problem, during the War on Terror. Villages and tribes often hated the terrorists and insurgents more than they hated the Americans, but they were too scared of the terrorists to take a stand against them. The foreigners would be gone one day, the terrorists taunted, and on that day anyone who helped them would face punishment. It was hard to blame the locals for refusing to get involved when their sons would be killed and their daughters and wives would be raped, merely for exchanging a few polite words with the foreigners.
He gritted his teeth in bitter memory. It would have been easier – so much easier – if the intelligence agents had had authority to issue immigration permits at will, but the bureaucrats had put roadblock after roadblock in their path. Not that it mattered here, he knew; there was no way they could offer asylum to every single Varnar on the planet. There were billions of the aliens, all at risk if the Tokomak knew they were being betrayed.
“Then we wish to discuss potential future collaboration,” Number Two said.
“And how the Coalition would treat us,” Number Three added.
“I could not make promises on the Coalition’s behalf,” Kevin said, carefully. “However, I believe they would certainly want to end the Proxy War.”
“Such an ending would have to be on reasonable terms,” Number Four stated. “We do not wish to surrender.”
“There is no need for outright surrender,” Number One said.
“I would not ask you to surrender unconditionally,” Kevin said. The Proxy War had been going on long enough that the original causes had been buried below a series of atrocities and betrayals. “However, you would have to come to terms with the Coalition or the war will just splutter on, giving the Tokomak a chance to recover from their defeat.”
“This is all academic if the Tokomak are not defeated,” Number Two said. “What do you want us to do?”
“Stay alert,” Kevin said. “If you see a chance to liberate Varnar from their grasp, you can take it. And we will do our best to help.”
There was a long chilling pause. It was eventually broken by Number One.
“You have authority to issue such statements?”
Number One spoke after Number Two, Kevin noted. The pattern had changed – why? A lifetime of intelligence work had taught him, more than once, that any unexpected change in a pattern could have a deeper meaning. Or did they change the subject and start again?
“I can make certain promises on their behalf,” Kevin said. He’d talked about the prospect of finding allies with the President. “However, they may be unable to keep the promises.”
“You offer us no guarantees,” Number Two said. His voice was atonal, but Kevin was sure he detected a hint of irritation. “You offer us no promises.”
“I could offer you all the promises in the universe,” Kevin said. “But I would be lying.”
Dark eyes bored into his. He understood their position; they wanted to be free of the Tokomak, but they also knew the risks of jumping into rebellion too soon. The Tokomak had a colossal fleet on the way, after all. Was it big enough to crush the Varnar Navy, which had considerably more experience? Kevin didn't know. He had a feeling that no one knew for sure.
“We understand,” Number Three said. “We will prepare our options. But we will not intercede until we can do so and survive.”
“I understand,” Kevin said. “Do you have anything I can take back to my superiors, as a gesture of good will?”
“Not yet,” Number Four said. “What would you require?”
“Intelligence,” Kevin said. “Anything we can use to plan our defence.”
“We will consider the matter,” Number One said. “We thank you for coming.”
On that note, the meeting ended. The four Varnar stepped through the door they’d entered, which closed behind them with an ominous thud. Kevin shook his head in amused disbelief, then waited, as patiently as he could, for Sally to say they could leave. It was nearly half an hour before she rose to her feet, replaced her mask over her face and led the way to the door. Kevin donned his own mask and followed her out into the darkness. Night had fallen while they'd been seated in the room, chatting to the Varnar.
“Stick close to me,” Sally said. Her voice was very composed, despite a fight breaking out only a few short metres from the door. “You don’t want to be noticed here.”
Kevin nodded. Random chance had screwed up more operations than he cared to remember, if only through someone observant seeing something they shouldn't and calling the police. It was quite helpful when an observant local stopped a terrorist attack, but it was rather less useful when he was the one carrying out the operation. But they made it back to Sally’s apartment without running into any real trouble. Kevin breathed a sigh of relief as he removed the mask, then hurried into the bathroom. Implants or no implants, he wanted a shower to wash the smell off him.
“You’ll want to see this,” Sally called, as he climbed out of the shower. There was an urgent tone in her voice that caught his attention. “Grab a towel and come and look at the TV.”
“Coming,” Kevin called. He scooped up a towel and hastened out the door. “What is it?”
Sally nodded to the television. It was showing starships – hundreds of starships – making their way out of the gravity point. Normally, transits were one by one – and mostly freighters. This time, there was an endless stream of warships. Kevin knew what it was without having to ask, if only because he’d been dreading it for the last few days. The Tokomak Navy had arrived.
“Two hundred battleships,” Sally said, slowly. She sounded stunned. It was one thing to hear about such numbers, but another to actually see them in real life. “And a few dozen smaller ships.”
Kevin sucked in a breath. The Tokomak weren't the only galactic power to build battleships, but theirs were twice the size of everyone else’s ships. Giant cylinders, five kilometres long, bristling with energy weapons and missile launchers, just one of them was normally enough to keep a planet under firm control. As far as anyone knew, the Tokomak hadn't lost a battleship ever since they’d established their empire. The fleet looked completely invincible.
I bet the Varnar are having third thoughts by now, he thought, darkly. Would they try to betray us to the Tokomak?
“They should have more escorts,” he mused. “I wonder why they don’t.”
Sally gave him a sharp look. “More escorts?”
“Yeah,” Kevin said. He hadn’t spent as long as Mongo studying the Galactic Way of War, but he’d picked up quite a bit. “Everything from scouts to additional point defence platforms.”
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “And now all that matters is hoping the Solar Union is ready to meet them,” he said. “Because if we don’t win the coming battle, we sure as hell won’t win the war.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jennifer Bellows, the acclaimed writer of ‘The Fascist Party of Tolerance’ was granted asylum
in the Solar Union, following an attempt to legally lynch her in London, United Kingdom. Bellows, whose work challenges the underpinnings of multiculturalism, stated that her life was destroyed when the establishment could not actually undermine her arguments through logic and reason. It is to be hoped that she will find the Solar Union a more congenial home.
-Solar News Network, Year 53
“Set course for the Rendezvous Point, Lieutenant,” Captain Singh ordered, “and take us there, best possible speed.”
“Aye, Captain,” Yolanda said.
She allowed her fingers to dance across the console, bringing up the macro. She’d had the course laid in for days, ever since the battle had been fought and won. They’d expected to have to retreat, perhaps after exchanging a hail of shots, once the Tokomak responded to the attack on Hades. Instead, they’d had ample time to strip the planet’s storage deports, commandeer freighters and then leave on the planned departure date. It was worrying some of the senior officers, she’d heard. The Tokomak weren't behaving as predicted.
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 31