The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  -Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).

  “They’re stalling,” Rebecca said. “Captain, I’m sure of it.”

  She sat back in her chair, feeling tired. She’d met the king five times in a row, a honour that was almost unique by galactic standards, yet ... yet their discussions had gone nowhere. The king was intelligent - of that she was sure - and yet, he’d managed to talk for days without saying anything beyond mindless platitudes and demands he knew as well as she did would never be met. She had the odd feeling that he was waiting for something, but what?

  Captain Yasser’s image seemed to loom closer. “Do you believe it’s worth continuing the talks?”

  Rebecca scowled, wishing she had a drink. Or something stronger. “That’s the question, Elton,” she said. “Is it worth continuing the talks?”

  On Earth, the answer would be obvious. The Solar Union eschewed meaningless diplomatic babble with as much enthusiasm as it dismissed academic mumbo-jumbo. It would be obvious that anyone stalling wasn't serious, particularly given the Solar Union’s penchant for treaties written in plain English. But here ... the king and his court might prefer to follow the achingly slow galactic procedures, rather than move quickly. The Galactics had been known to take years to write treaties that were longer than some doorstopper manuscripts. She had a private theory that hardly anyone, including the heads of state, actually bothered to read the damn things. It would certainly explain a great deal about galactic society.

  “You’re the diplomat,” the captain said. He shot her a mischievous grin that made him look younger. “Did they even agree to allow our freighters to attempt to trade their goods?”

  “Not yet,” Rebecca said. “Captain ... I don’t know if we can push it.”

  And that, she knew, was the crux of the problem. Humanity needed allies. Having a race as powerful and respected as the Harmonies on their side would be very helpful. But, at the same time, they could hardly afford to humour the Harmonies indefinitely, let alone grant them major concessions as a prelude to more formal talks. The Grand Alliance would be dead in the water if one race was treated as superior to the others. She couldn't help wondering if that was exactly what the Harmonies had in mind.

  But that would require more subtlety than they’ve shown us so far, she thought. And more awareness of the younger races ...

  “Perhaps you should just ask them what they want,” Elton said, breaking into her thoughts. “Cut right through the diplomacy and ask them.”

  Rebecca considered it for a long moment. “It would be a diplomatic nightmare,” she pointed out, finally. “Just asking ...”

  The captain snorted, rudely. “Rebecca, I cannot help but wonder if we’re being conned,” he said. “What are they doing?”

  “I’ve had the same feeling,” Rebecca agreed. “But I don’t see the point.”

  She looked down at her fingers, wishing she could take a nap. Or perhaps go back to the ship for a few hours. There was nothing to do in the embassy, save for studying files and reading reports from the intelligence staff. She'd be happy just to take a rest somewhere she didn't have to worry about being watched. The marines were still turning up bugs all over the giant building. And yet ...

  She’d studied psychology during her training. Her instructors had told her, more than once, that people could be conned easily, without the sort of blatant lies that were instantly noticeable. And while there were some people who were prepared to admit that they had been deceived, others would often throw good money after bad because they didn't want to stand up and admit that they had been tricked. There came a time, they’d said, when the mark’s mind grasped what had happened to him.

  “They want to believe,” her instructor had said. “That’s the key to a successful con. A person who wants to believe will overlook anything, as long as they have their eyes firmly fixed on the future. And a good con man will ensure that the mark keeps his eyes on that future as long as possible.”

  And if we are being conned, she mused, what’s the payoff? What do they want?

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll give it a week,” she said. “And if they don’t get to the point by then, I’ll insist on shutting down the talks and see what happens.”

  “A week,” the captain commented.

  “That’s fast by galactic standards,” Rebecca countered. “It might convince them to actually put their cards on the table. I ...”

  She broke off as an alert flashed up in front of her eyes. “Captain, I think we have a situation,” she said. “It's not good.”

  ***

  “The crowds are pushing closer,” Rifleman John Stewart warned. “And the chanting is growing louder too.”

  Levi nodded, grimly. The crowds might be composed of aliens, but they had the same sense of barely-restrained violence she recalled from Earth. She could feel their eyes following her, following every human within the complex ... hatred mingled with bitter frustration throbbing on the air. It must be nightmarish, utterly nightmarish, to grow up in a world where every last word was monitored, where there was no hope at all for freedom ... the crowd was angry, yet helpless.

  And someone encouraged them to come here, she thought. And no one is driving them away.

  She studied the wall for a long moment. The marines had checked the material and discovered that it was composed of a composite substance that could stand up to anything below a shaped plasma charge, but somehow she didn't find it very reassuring. There was no way to be sure the crowd wasn't carrying any weapons, either stolen from military bases or handed out by whoever had organised the protest. She'd rigged up portable forcefields to provide additional security, yet she had no illusions. They wouldn't hold out indefinitely.

  John Stewart was right, she decided. The chanting was definitely growing louder, an xenophobic rant that was blurring into a single solid tone that slammed into her ears. Her implants unhelpfully provided a translation, warning her that the protesters intended to tear her limb from limb and then eat her mangled remains. She reached for her rifle and touched it, cursing the Rules of Engagement under her breath. On Earth, they’d be allowed to move the protesters away from the building if the local authorities refused to oblige; here, they had to grin and bear it. Thankfully, the embassy was largely soundproofed.

  The explosion came without warning. Levi spun around, just in time to see a large section of the wall crumble inwards. Dozens of protesters were badly injured, their bodies falling to the ground, but the remainder started to push forward, into the embassy. Someone was shouting orders through a megaphone, whipping up hatred as the crowd surged forward. Levi drew her rifle and searched for the shouter, hoping he could be taken out before matters got any worse. But she couldn't find him.

  She keyed her throatmike. “Security alert,” she snapped. “Get the staff into the shelter!”

  She gritted her teeth as the howling protesters slammed into the security field and sparks started to fly. It was designed to shock everyone who touched it with their bare skin. Levi couldn't help feeling a flicker of sympathy, even though she was sure the protesters definitely intended to tear her limb from limb. She’d been shocked herself, during training, and it hadn't been pleasant. The protesters at the front were being forced against the field by the others, unable to escape the jangling ...

  “LT,” Stewart called. “The field is starting to fail!”

  Levi cursed under her breath. They’d gone through a hundred contingency plans, but all of them depended on help arriving from the local authorities. A distress call would have gone out automatically, if the authorities weren't already monitoring the situation, yet she had a feeling help wasn't going to arrive. The protest was hardly spontaneous. She rather doubted the riot was any more so.

  “Send a distress signal to the ship, then start pulling back to the interior defence lines,” she ordered, grimly. It meant giving up the embassy grounds and some of the outer rooms, but she didn't have the manpower to defend them. “Make su
re you get the ambassadorial staff into the panic room.”

  “Aye, LT,” Stewart snapped.

  The field crackled loudly, then snapped out of existence. A hundred protesters fell to the ground, twitching helplessly. Extensive contact with the security field would probably cause permanent nerve damage, if they lived long enough to care. Their comrades trampled over them as they rushed the building, hurling stones and bottles towards the marines on the rooftop. Levi hoped the doors would hold, but she had a feeling they wouldn’t. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to set up the protest.

  And if we open fire, she thought as the marines opened the hatch and dropped through to the highest floor, we risk starting one hell of a diplomatic incident.

  New alerts flashed up in front of her eyes. The crowd had smashed the main doors and was now heading in all directions. Other alerts followed, warning of microscopic bugs shadowing the protesters as they started to tear the building apart. Levi hadn't really doubted that the protest was being organised, but it was nice to have confirmation. She just wished she had a set of armoured combat suits too. No protester could break a combat suit without heavy weapons ...

  And we don’t have anything beyond BDUs, she reminded herself. The entire building shook, violently. It sounded as though the protesters did have some weapons after all. We’re dead.

  ***

  “Get them out of there,” Elton snapped.

  “We can’t, sir,” Lieutenant Rogers said. “There's too much jamming in the air! We can't teleport them out or they’ll wind up with their heads coming out of their asses!”

  Elton glared at him. The live feed from the embassy was flicking in and out of existence, but he could see enough to tell that all hell was breaking loose. It was only a matter of time before the crowds found Rebecca and her staff. And then ... he had no doubt that the entire staff would be brutally murdered. He had no idea what was going on - or who was behind the protest - but he couldn't let the ambassador be murdered ...

  He keyed his console. “Major Rhodan, can you get armoured troops down there?”

  “Not in time,” Rhodan said. The marine sounded grim. “I have two platoons suiting up now, but getting them down in time will be impossible, even if the local defences don't try to stop us ...”

  Shit, Elton thought. The orbital defences were coming online, their sensors already sweeping space for potential threats. They weren't locked on Odyssey, but they hardly needed to target her directly to blow her out of space. His ship was orbiting far too close to enough firepower to deter the First Fleet! What on Earth are they playing at?

  He turned to Williams. “Any response?”

  “None, sir,” Williams said. “There’s no response from any of the local channels.”

  A new icon popped up in front of Elton’s eyes. Lieutenant Jayne Fisher wanted to talk to him.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been analysing the live feed, sir,” Jayne said. She didn't sound bothered by his tone. “I think they’re trying to con us.”

  Elton resisted the urge to hit the console as hard as he could. “Explain.”

  “My first thought was that someone had launched a coup, with us caught in the middle,” Jayne said. “However, further analysis has picked up no trace of military movements, fighting or even additional communications bursts. There’s certainly no reason for their failure to respond to our hails. I believe that they are trying to create a perception of chaos, rather than actual chaos.”

  “Oh, goody,” Elton snapped. “And ...”

  “Captain,” Williams said. “I’ve had an idea. We might be able to get them out.”

  “One moment,” Elton told Jayne. “You think it would work?”

  “I think so,” Williams said. “But we’d have to fly a shuttle through their airspace.”

  Elton considered it, wishing - not for the first time - that there was someone higher up who could make the final call. Launching a shuttle into a planet’s atmosphere without permission was a hostile act ... and he was aware, all too aware, of just how much firepower was orbiting Harmony. And yet, the Harmonies had either organised the riot or were doing nothing to stop it. Either one was a hostile act in and of itself. Earth might be on the verge of war ...

  “Launch the shuttle on remote control,” he ordered. There was no point in risking more lives. “And pray it gets there in time.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Williams said.

  ***

  “Are we going to die?”

  Rebecca had no idea who’d spoken, nor did she care. “Shut up,” she ordered, sharply. “Use your implants to calm yourself and wait.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. She’d been in tight spots before, back on Earth, but she’d always known that she could be teleported out in a moment. Very few warlords would risk trying to take her hostage - or kill her - when they knew the retaliation would be crushing. But here ... Odyssey might not be able to yank them out before the protesters fought their way into the panic room. In theory, it should keep them safe indefinitely; in practice, she doubted it would hold the protesters out for long.

  “They’re mad,” the girl said. “I ...”

  “I told you to shut up,” Rebecca snapped. She heard the girl gulp and felt a flicker of guilt, which she ruthlessly shoved into the back of her mind. There was no time to be nice to anyone. “So shut up!”

  She forced herself to think. If she’d offended the king ... he would have expelled the diplomats, perhaps sending them back with a demand for new diplomats or a declaration of war. None of the Galactics would tolerate a power attacking or killing ambassadors, no matter where they came from. And it was unlikely that they’d believe the whole protest had been spontaneous. They’d prefer to use the whole event to embarrass the Harmonies ...

  They’re insane, she thought. The Harmonies had to have gone mad. They didn't benefit from any of this, did they? What are they doing?

  ***

  “LT, the ship’s sending in help,” John said, as Levi led the marines down a corridor. New icons flared up in front of her eyes. “We have to be ready to teleport out.”

  “Great,” Rifleman Wahid said. He’d got the briefing too. “If this goes wrong, the doc will be removing your head from my ass afterwards.”

  “Maybe they’ll just force you to take a course of laxatives,” Stewart jeered.

  “Or perhaps some of your cooking,” Wahid jeered back. “It put half the squad out of commission last time.”

  Levi cleared her throat, meaningfully. “Don’t worry about it,” she told him. “It’s much more likely that you’ll just dissolve into your constituent atoms.”

  She ran around the corner and stopped, dead. A stream of protesters were charging right at her, screaming and howling ... the ones at the rear, as always, pushing the ones at the front forward. She unhooked a stun grenade from her belt and hurled it into the crowd, using her implants to send the detonation command a second later. Blue light flared, sending the first protesters falling to the floor. But the remainder just kept coming ...

  “About face,” Levi said. She wanted to open fire. But she knew what would happen if they fired plasma rifles into the crowd. The aliens would be butchered, mercilessly. They’d have all the excuse they needed for a diplomatic incident. “Fall back.”

  She searched her mind, desperately, for options. But there were none. Their only real hope was to join the ambassador’s staff in the panic room, yet she doubted it would last for more than a few seconds. She tossed two more grenades behind her as she ran, hoping it would slow the crowd down for a while. Perhaps shoving their former comrades out of the way would restore sanity to the rest of them ...

  Of course not, she thought, as the howling grew louder. A crowd is only half as smart as the stupidest person in it.

  “They’re not going to open the doors for us,” Wahid said. They’d outrun the crowd, but they were all too aware that that wouldn't last. “I don’t think they could close them in time.”r />
  Levi nodded. She understood. The ambassador’s staff could not open the doors. It would just get everyone killed quicker. “We make a stand just outside the doors,” she said. There was no alternative. She’d just have to pray the ship came through with a rescue before it was too late. “Get ready.”

  She cursed, again. They were about to die, hundreds of thousands of light years from home. Hell, hundreds of aliens were about to die, just because their leaders wanted a diplomatic incident. Or whatever ... she still had no idea what was actually going on. She braced herself as they reached the locked doors, then took up position. Her platoon fell into place beside her, ready to fire.

  “Take aim,” she ordered, as the crowd came into view. Some hesitated, she thought, but the remainder pushed them on. “Fire!”

  Chapter Sixteen