Thunder & Lightning

by Christopher Nuttall

  An alien clicked an urgent message as the display altered again, washing with strange shades of grey. The alien leader turned to her, his face unreadable; she wondered, dimly, what was happening as he clicked to Oolane, who looked to be in agreement, and Takalak, who was arguing…

  “Your people have locked onto this ship,” the alien leader said. His dispassionate voice bellied his words. “They are very likely to destroy it.”

  “Good,” Samra said, surprising herself with her vehemence. “You deserve it.”

  “We meant to help you,” Takalak protested. He lunged forwards, forearms reaching for her neck; unable to move, or even fight, she felt his hands closing around her, greyness and silence covering her mind…and then he was being dragged away by his own guards, clicking furiously. She wondered what he was saying; his translator either wasn’t working or had been torn away in the brief struggle.

  “They’ll kill two billion of us,” the alien leader snapped. She sensed, now, urgency in his voice. “Is anything worth that?”

  “Then surrender!” Samra shouted at him. Her throat hurt; she wanted to rub it, she just wanted to curl up and die, but there was no time. “Call the fleet; tell them you surrender, just fucking end it all before it gets ended for you. Surrender before it’s too late and they can’t accept a surrender!”

  Oolane looked at her. “Would they honour a surrender?”

  Samra tried to think; it was so hard! “You still have things to bargain with,” she said, though hacking coughs. They didn’t even realise she was in pain! “The elevators, your knowledge, even your drive…use them, before it’s too late.”

  The alien leader spoke in English. “Cease all offensive fire,” he ordered. “Defensive weapons to continue firing. Contact the human craft…and inform them that we would like to offer our surrender.”

  * * *

  The missiles were already screaming away when the signal came in. “Jake, they’re offering to surrender,” Cindy said, urgently. Ellsworth could hear the concern in her voice. “Jake?”

  Ellsworth stared at the display. I could do it, he thought. We’re winning the battle. We could crush the remains of their war fleet and fall on the motherships and destroy them, end forever the threat to the Belt. They’re smart, they could trick us; we might end up losing everything because we let them off the hook this time. I could…

  His private communicator blinked. [It would be genocide], Cindy had messaged him so the others on the flag bridge couldn’t hear. [If you want the Rockrat civilization to be worth anything, you cannot slaughter two billion civilians!]

  He met her eyes and typed a message back: [They killed two billion of us. Can we trust them?]

  [Do we have a choice?] was her reply a few moments later. [They have a world out there; they have Earth under threat. Accept it.]

  Ellsworth looked at her. “I’ve made my decision,” he said. She was right; it would be genocide, and he would never be able to hide from it. His own people would shun him; they would have understood destroying the enemy force without a surrender, but after they had? “Deactivate the missiles. Inform the enemy commander that his offer is accepted.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight: Terms of Surrender

  Apollo 11 Landing Site; Mare Tranquillitatis, Lunar Surface

  The transport hoverbus, a vehicle that could only work on the surface of the moon, settled down carefully outside the dome, pausing just long enough for the tube to be extended to the bus before the first exo-suited Space Marine climbed out of the vehicle to check the connections. Two more followed him, ensuring safety, before Captain Schaefer escorted President Cardona out of the vehicle and into the containment dome.

  Cardona glanced around with genuine interest. There were only a handful of constructions on the lunar surface that were almost completely above ground; the various Apollo domes and the other spacecraft that had landed on the moon almost a century before it had become commonplace, a prison for the handful of lunar criminals, and a hotel that had become a surprisingly popular destination before the Oghaldzon War had broken out. The choice of Apollo 11’s landing site had surprised many – and the Secret Service had had a collective heart attack – but Cardona had insisted. It was a reminder to the different human factions of what they shared…and a reminder to the Oghaldzon of how lucky they had been. As many had pointed out in the days following the start of the war, if humanity had moved into space seriously fifty years earlier, the Oghaldzon wouldn’t have had a chance. As it was…

  He paused long enough to drink in the sight of the Apollo 11 module – no one, not even the President of the United States, got to go near it, after incidents of tourists trying to take away souvenirs – and then followed his guide through the small collection of buildings into a small conference room. The room had been used, from time to time, for Great Power discussions well away from the solar system’s media; it suited everyone to use it to end the Oghaldzon War. The President nodded as he glanced around the table; almost everyone who was anyone in the new solar system had come to take part in the discussions.

  It had been a tricky week, first in ensuring that there was a small presence on each of the Oghaldzon ships – just in case some of them intended to "renegotiate" the terms of surrender – and then to gain international, if not interplanetary, consent for the basic terms. Everyone had wanted a say; not everyone had put forward practical suggestions, or even had any real right to a seat at the table. There had been ships from all of the Great Powers in the fleet, but everyone knew that it had been America and the Rockrats who had really won the war for humanity. The Chinese had simply been in too much chaos to establish themselves; Cardona privately suspected that Commodore Qiu and his people would end up accepting one of the offers of residency from one of the other nations, or the Rockrats, and fading into their society. China might recover, one day, but there was very little left to spare to help them. The United States barely had enough to help itself.

  He cleared his throat. Nearly three billion humans had died in the war.

  It was time to end it.

  “I am the President of the United States of America,” he said, for the benefit of the watching Oghaldzon. Their main human captive, Samra Hussein, watched him through dark eyes; Cardona had heard that she and Gavin Reynolds had become lovers before the Space Commando had been killed during the final battle. “I speak now with the authority of the United Nations Special Security Council, in shared agreement with the Rockrat Association and the new Lunar Government. I have been empowered to speak on their behalf and inform you of the terms of surrender.”

  The Oghaldzon said nothing. Cardona had been told that Dataka-War Commander-Fleet was the closest thing the Oghaldzon fleet had had to a commander in chief…and that he had been the man – well, Oghaldzon – who had made the decision to offer a surrender. Cardona found himself oddly respecting the first Oghaldzon he had met, face to face; their appearance was less discontenting if one had studied images beforehand.

  “As a first statement, we have decided to accept that you believed that you were doing the right thing,” he said. Some of the discussions had been acrimonious; some of the Great Powers had wanted to exterminate the Oghaldzon fleet, just to ensure that there was no longer an alien faction involved when the human race started to rebuild. Cardona had managed to suppress that; the Oghaldzon had surrendered, they didn’t need to be exterminated. “Regardless, you caused a horrific amount of death and destruction on the surface of Earth and killed upwards of three billion humans – we may never know how many – in the course of your war on us. You must understand that the terms we will set, in exchange for sparing the lives of your people, will be harsh.”

  He paused. There was no response.

  “First, all spacecraft, starships and other vehicles belonging to your fleet will be confiscated, along with the files and other information they contain,” he said. The Oghaldzon seemed to move slightly, but there was no other response. “They will be used to help rebuild Earth, expand t
he colonies on Mars and Venus, and provide a stopgap measure if a second fleet is discovered coming from your homeworld.

  “Second, the territory you have occupied on the ground will be returned to its lawful governments,” he continued. “Your forces will continue to keep order until ours are in position to take over patrolling, whereupon they will be placed in camps until we reach a final decision on what is to become of them. The humans resident in the area are to be permitted to make contact with unoccupied areas; the humans held in your prison camps are to be released, once our forces reach the camps.

  “Third, we will employ your specialists to aid us in integrating the new technology, including the space elevators and the fusion drives into our society, along with whatever you can do to assist us in rebuilding the damage, terraforming Mars and Venus, and further development of the solar system. This work will be unpaid for ten years, following which your people will have the choice between working with us for wages or migrating to the Oghaldzon community.

  “Fourth, the humans who you took as prisoners or involuntary settlers on board your motherships are to be offered the choice between remaining with the Oghaldzon community, as ambassadors and researchers, or returning to Earth. The minor children whose parents cannot be traced will be returned to Earth and adopted by families on the surface of the planet, unless they are adopted by those who choose to remain with you. Regardless of their decision, you will compensate them for the experience and trauma that they have, however accidentally, suffered at your hands.

  “Fifth, we will permit what members of your community are not involved in the reconstruction plan to settle in your own community on Mars,” the President continued. There had been a reaction then; he suspected that the Oghaldzon wouldn’t consider Mars a very attractive world. Tough. It had been hard enough to get everyone to agree on allowing them to settle there. “Your community will have limited autonomy, but it will be permitted no access to space-based weapons; in the future, we envision it becoming part of the solar system’s economy. We believe that individual Oghaldzon will choose to attempt to gain citizenship amongst the different powers around the solar system; we will place no barriers in their path, although acceptance is not guaranteed.”

  He winced. That had been even harder to convince the UNSSC to go along with it, although he suspected that both the Moon and the Rockrats would be trying to recruit Oghaldzon to boost their own technologies in the rapidly reshaped solar system. There was one final point to make, then…

  “If you agree to these terms without further demur, we are prepared to make two commitments in return,” he concluded. “First, we will guarantee you the right to send back a message to your homeworld” – which would give the human race a chance to learn where it was, if it wasn't to be found in the files on the captured ships – “and, perhaps later, the chance for some of you to return there in your ships. Second, the Great Powers will guarantee not to send any starships of our own there for fifty years, or in the event of a peace treaty being worked out through radio, or in the event of a second war fleet being dispatched to Earth. I must ask, now, for your answer.”

  He sat back and waited. It was an interesting offer, with a sting in the tail, although he did wonder if the Oghaldzon would even notice. How could the human race avoid sending a starship to their homeworld…unless they told the human race just where their homeworld was? Second, darker, the Great Powers couldn’t stop the Rockrats or someone like billionaire Conrad Hamilton from launching their own starships; they might keep the letter of the agreement, but what about the spirit?

  The Oghaldzon were clicking to one another; the President wished for a translator, or perhaps some way to record what they were saying for further analysis. They had agreed to avoid recorders for the conference room long ago; the Great Powers intended to keep the substance of their discussions secret to prevent a public outcry. Wars had never happened because of discussions in the conference room, others had been kept low-key and terminated because of quiet horse-trading behind the scenes; the room was heavy with history. Perhaps it, too, would one day become a part of the exhibit.

  The Oghaldzon – Dataka – looked at him. “What guarantee do we have that you will keep your word?”

  “None,” the President said, shortly. “If we had wanted to kill you all, we could have done it by now. The choice is yours; peace, or death.”

  Dataka looked at him; Cardona thought he detected bitterness on his face. “We came to help you,” he said.

  “That has never worked out well on Earth,” the President said. “Perhaps this way we will learn to like one another so that our two races won’t go to war again.” He paused. “Do you know about any other races?”

  “None, but your race,” Dataka said. “We believe that you know of no others.”

  President Cardona shrugged. “There have always been rumours of alien contact on Earth,” he said. “Every new President looks at the files when they take office and gets very disappointed when they find out that there is no real proof of anything. But that’s beside the point; you’re the only other race we know. Do you really want it to end with one of us exterminating the other?”

  “No,” Dataka said. He clicked briefly to the other Oghaldzon. “We will sign your agreement and trust in your word. The future will judge for itself.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the President faced someone he had never wanted to meet in person: Karl Bova. He’d read the furious reports submitted by Colonel Forsyth and Governor Andrew Hastings – the latter including enough exclamation marks to make him wonder if something had gone wrong with the former Governor’s mind – and hadn’t been looking forward to this meeting, but there were some matters that could only be handled by the President himself – or a very senior Ambassador.

  “You must realise that your position is, in the long-term, untenable,” he said, as soon as they were alone together. Bova had done well for himself, but the Great Powers would insist on extracting a price for his betrayal, even if it had worked out for them in the end. “You may hold the moon, but we can blockade you and keep you from interfering elsewhere, until we can assemble an army to occupy the moon and quash your…little government.”

  “And be permanently cut off from Helium-3, unless you manage to get the mines at the gas giants working again and expanded, and be permanently cut off from the supplies of lunar rock,” Bova countered.

  The President smiled; both of them had shown their teeth and some of their bargaining chips.

  “The Rockrats won’t help you blockade us; they hold half of your fleet, while the aliens are unlikely to break their surrender…”

  “And they have plenty of good reasons to be just a…little pissed at you,” Cardona reminded him. “We are prepared to compromise; we may recognise that you have managed to declare independence, and no constituency exists for a return to the old system, but there are…issues. You have laid claim to thousands of installations on the moon, some of them belonging to corporations, some of them to governments…all of which cost money.”

  “The corporations will be welcome to return, provided they treat their people better and pay their taxes,” Bova said. “As for the government-owned installations…with all due respect, fuck them. They were used to exploit us.”

  “Let’s can the bullshit, shall we?” Cardona asked. He just didn’t like Bova very much; the man had never learned how to compromise. “The Great Powers are prepared to recognise your independence and the loss of the installations to your control” – he didn’t mention that at least five secret American installations had been missed by the new government; they could be shut down later in private – “in exchange for your assistance in rebuilding. We need access to Helium-3 and, as you pointed out, we will need lunar rock to start rebuilding some of the space facilities that were destroyed in the war. If you agree to supply this for a suitable period, we will agree to forget old grievances and recognise your independence.”

  Bova looked at him. �
�For how long do you think we will supply you with free fuel and material?”

  The President pretended to consider it. “Twenty years?”

  “Fuck you,” Bova said. “One year – and consider yourself lucky.”

  “Ten years,” Cardona said.

  “Five years, and we get to recruit new settlers on Earth using the elevators,” Bova said. “That would appease some of the more radical factions in the new government.”

  “Done,” Cardona said. He concealed a smile; he had been prepared to settle for two years. The Lunar Republic – or whatever they ended up calling it – taking refugees from Earth was an unexpected bonus. “Welcome to the family of nations, Mr. President.”

  Bova gave him a resentful look. “This is blackmail,” he said. “You are just exploiting us again.”

  “This is politics,” Cardona said. “No one – but no one – gets to take action without some kind of consequences. You have your independence. In five years, you can start selling Helium-3 as high as the market will bear. In a month, you will be invited to send a delegate to the first meeting of the New United Nations”- he paused – “or should that be the New New United Nations? I think you’ve been pretty lucky, all things considered…and now you know why civil wars are always such nasty affairs.”

  “It’s all about the money,” Bova said.

  “Exactly,” President Cardona said. “Everything is about money, in the end, in the world of politics. Just try not to end up like the Saudis.”

  * * *

  There was one final person the President wanted to meet before he returned to Earth, a last person he wanted to see face-to-face; Samra Hussein herself. The former Director of the Selene Observatory looked tired and drawn when Cardona stepped into her room, her face scarred slightly from the effects of her brief exposure to vacuum. It would heal, eventually, but for the moment she was marked. She had become famous – and deservedly so – but not everyone knew what to make of her. Had she saved the day by convincing the Oghaldzon to make peace, or had she committed treason against humanity by broadcasting for the aliens? The UNSSC had made its own decision on the subject, but there were far too many people out there who had lost someone to the Oghaldzon and would be delighted to take it out on her.