“They learned a great deal about us,” he said. The Tokomak probably considered the Harmonies expendable. Hell, from their point of view, knocking the Harmonies down a peg or two was greatly to be desired. They had once been competitors for galactic power, after all. “But we also learnt a great deal about them.”
“Let us hope it’s enough,” Commodore Longlegs said. She smiled. “We’ll get back through the gravity point, then find a place to do some repairs.”
“Understood,” Elton said.
“And well done,” she added. “Your ship and crew performed magnificently.”
Elton smiled as her face vanished. She was right. Odyssey had performed well. Thrown into a maelstrom she’d never been designed to face, she’d survived. She'd been outnumbered and outgunned, but she’d survived. He had good reason to be proud of his ship and her crew.
And yet, some of them had given everything to help the ship escape ...
But we’ll have to mourn the dead later, he thought, as he rose. And thank them for their service.
He keyed his terminal. “Mr. Callaway, keep us on course towards the gravity point,” he ordered. “We’re going home.”
Chapter Forty
This discussion has passed the point of usefulness and is hereby locked. Please reread the ‘Guidelines for Political Discussions, Debates and Flame Wars’ (updated 2080) and conduct yourselves accordingly. Posters who are unable to consistently follow the guidelines will be banned. There will be no further warnings.
-Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).
“It could have gone a little better,” Rebecca said, as they waited outside Admiral Stuart’s office. “There were a lot of repetitive questions.”
She rubbed her forehead. She’d seriously considered remaining behind with Commodore Longlegs, rather than travelling back to Earth. Now, she rather wished she had. The diplomatic service might have concluded - reluctantly - that Rebecca had been given an impossible task, but the post mortem had only just begun. No one wanted to risk sending another starship into a trap.
“I had the same experience,” Captain Yasser said. He looked as tired as she felt. “The Board of Inquiry had a lot of repetitive questions too.”
Rebecca snorted. “They couldn't get everything from your logs?”
“They want to know what I was thinking, every time I made a decision,” Captain Yasser said, dryly. “And then they want to know what I didn’t put in the logbook.”
The hatch opened. “Ambassador Motherwell, Captain Yasser,” Admiral Stuart’s secretary said. “Please, come in.”
Rebecca rose, feeling oddly as though she was going to see the principal. She was in her sixties, but Mongo Stuart was easily forty years older than her. And he was living history, a man who’d been on the spot when the Solar Union was founded. She was part of history too now, she supposed, yet it was really nothing more than a footnote. Mongo Stuart’s name would be mentioned for centuries to come.
Assuming we survive, she thought, numbly.
“Captain, Ambassador,” Admiral Stuart said. He waved a hand at a pair of comfortable chairs. “Please, be seated.”
Rebecca sat, crossing her legs. She'd resisted the urge to wear a formal diplomatic outfit to the inquest, even though that might have been a mistake. The long dress she wore might as well belong to a middle-aged woman who was restarting her career after raising a handful of children. But she hadn't felt as though she truly belonged in the diplomatic service any longer. There was no way to avoid the simple fact that she’d failed, that - in the end - she’d been about as useful as a steam engine on a starship. Captain Yasser sat next to her, his face expressionless. It occurred to Rebecca, as she gathered herself, that he might be as concerned about this meeting as herself.
“There has been a great deal of debate over your misadventures,” Admiral Stuart said, without preamble. “Fortunately, the early discussions in both the navy and the diplomatic service agree that neither of you are to blame for the disaster. The Harmonies baited a trap - at the behest of the Tokomak - and we fell for it.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Yasser said.
Stuart looked at Rebecca. “You’ll hear a more formal response from your superiors in the next few days,” he added, “but it has been generally agreed that you did everything in your power to open lines of communication. The Harmonies never intended to negotiate in good faith and so you cannot be held accountable. Your career will not suffer.”
“Maybe,” Rebecca said. She shook her head. “I need a holiday.”
“That would be a good idea,” Stuart said.
He switched his attention to Captain Yasser. “I have to tell you that there was some debate concerning your role in the affair,” he added. “A number of officers felt - arguing with the benefit of hindsight, mind you - that you took Odyssey far too close to Harmony without ensuring your own safety. Others countered by pointing out that there was no reason to expect the Harmonies to discard over a thousand years of tradition just to bait a trap. They in turn have been countered by remarks about the fortresses ... and how they should have tipped you off.”
Rebecca glanced at Captain Yasser. His face was utterly unreadable, but she knew him well enough to detect the tension in his body. He could lose his command over the affair - or, perhaps, his chance at another command. There was nothing she could do, she knew, to make up for that.
“Once you did realise there was a problem, your conduct was magnificent,” Stuart continued, after a long moment. “You escaped Harmony, you ensured that a message was sent back to Commodore Longlegs, you managed to keep inching towards Hudson until you made it to Daladier. At that point, you finally ran out of luck ... but you managed to keep your ship intact until Commodore Longlegs arrived to pull your ass out of the fire. Correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Yasser said.
“It is generally agreed that you did very well,” Stuart said. “Losing the freighters was a blow, although a small one; we can and we will pay compensation to the surviving crews and their families. About the only matter of concern, Captain, is that you should have sent King Whatever” - his lips quirked into a brief smile - “directly to Hudson. However ... it was your call to make and it all worked out in the end.”
“Commander Biscoe died on that ship,” Captain Yasser said, tonelessly.
“Yes,” Stuart agreed. “And he died a hero.”
He shrugged. “You too will receive a formal notification,” he added. “You’ll retain your command - under the circumstances, public opinion will probably not allow us to scrap Odyssey. She will be repaired. I imagine there will be other missions soon, too. If you wish to take up a new command, several are available ...”
“I’d like to stay with Odyssey, sir,” Captain Yasser said.
“Very well,” Stuart agreed.
He rose. “I’m afraid there will be more inquests over the coming weeks,” he warned. “You will have to justify all the medals you requested ... although I don't think there will be many problems in getting most of them confirmed. And you will have to assist us in preparing for the coming war. But, for the moment, just know that you - both of you - did well.”
“Thank you, sir,” Captain Yasser said.
Rebecca nodded. “There will be war, then?”
“I don’t see how we can avoid it,” Stuart said. “The galaxy just isn't big enough for both of us.”
***
Elton was torn between relief and an odd despondency as they made their way out of the admiral’s office and walked down to the park. It was almost deserted. There were few children on Sparta - the asteroid was not a permanent posting - and most of the asteroid’s inhabitants would be at work. Their lives had always been busy, but Elton had a feeling they’d grown busier since the first courier boat had reached Earth.
Nine months, he thought, morbidly. He sat down on the grass. Who knows what’s happening back at Hudson?
“They could have thrown the book at us,” Rebec
ca said. She sat next to him, looking both young and old in the bright light. “You kept your command.”
“Once she’s repaired,” Elton said. “Mr. Wolf believes it will take at least six months to repair everything.”
“But she’s still intact,” Rebecca said. “And so is your career.”
Elton raised his eyebrows. “And yours.”
“I may not get any further postings,” Rebecca said, ruefully. “The Galactics may have heard of me.”
“Ouch,” Elton said. “So ... what will you do?”
“I’m not sure,” Rebecca said. “It’s very rare for an ambassador to be given another posting within five years. We might go native, you see. I may spend the next few months at clown college ...”
Elton looked up. “Clown college?”
“Diplomatic school,” Rebecca said. She flushed. “That’s what we call it, just to remind ourselves not to take it too seriously. Or I might go on a long vacation. Or write a book.”
“I’ll be sure to buy a copy,” Elton said.
He shook his head slowly. They’d made it home ... and now he felt as though he was at a loose end. He’d been the captain of a starship, her sole master ... now, he was just another man on an asteroid. He would return to the command chair - he knew that, on a level that could not be denied - but it wouldn't be quite the same. Their adventure was over ...
But the war is just beginning, he thought. He felt a shiver running down his back. The peace here, so far from Harmony, is about to shatter.
“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “For everything.”
“You too,” Rebecca said. “For saving my life, amongst other things.”
She rose. “I have to report back to the office,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight?”
Elton smiled. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
He watched her walk away, then lay back in the grass. For once, he had nothing to do. His ship was in the hands of the engineers, his crew were already on shore leave ... he didn't even have to report back to the admiralty. He was at a loose end ...
... But he was home.
And that, he told himself firmly, was all that mattered.
***
“I didn't expect that from him,” Mongo Stuart said.
Steve Stuart looked up from the datapad. “Hoshiko, bless her, is a fighter first and foremost,” he said. “My granddaughter wants to fight - she won’t let anything stop her from fighting if she feels she must. Captain Yasser is more restrained, more inclined to be cautious, but he can still fight.”
Mongo shook his head. “More inclined to be cautious,” he repeated. “Did you read the report? Half the stunts he pulled would get someone kicked out of the academy.”
“We chose him because we thought he could be relied upon to be diplomatic,” Steve said, dryly. “But we also knew he could fight, if necessary.”
He shrugged. He - and Mongo - had always had an affinity for fighters, for men and women willing to risk their lives in defence of their country. They were heirs to a family tradition of service that stretched all the way back to Robert the Bruce and the Scottish Wars of Independence. Steve had fought for the United States of America, following the tradition set by his father, grandfather and countless other ancestors; Hoshiko had fought for the Solar Union and humanity itself. But the universe needed more than just fighters. It needed explorers and diplomats and ...
“There will be war, of course,” he said. Maybe they didn't need explorers and diplomats right now. “The Tokomak will be coming back.”
“Of course,” Mongo agreed, coolly. “We’re not ready.”
“Then we’d better get ready,” Steve said. “Last time, we gave them a thrashing because they didn't expect us to have developed our own weapons and defences. This time ... it will be different. They know too much about us.”
“They may even have advanced on their own,” Mongo said.
Steve nodded. “We need to proceed with the Grand Alliance vote,” he said. “If nothing else, the Odyssey Affair should focus a few minds. We need allies and ... there’s nowhere else to get them.”
“It will also divert attention from Earth,” Mongo warned. “That will upset some of the factions.”
“Including too many of our relatives,” Steve said. He was the single most famous man in the Solar Union. He’d even done most of what people said he’d done. But he knew his word alone wouldn't be enough to convince everyone. It was a nuisance, but he wouldn't have it any other way. “Earth ... may not be beyond salvation, yet we don’t have the time to intervene.”
It was a bitter thought. He’d loved America. He’d grown up believing in the American Dream. But the dream had been dying even before he’d captured an alien ship. He wondered, sometimes, if he'd actually killed the dream. He’d given the people America needed - the talented, the innovative, the fighters - a place to go. And, in their wake, the country had slowly started to collapse into chaos. Would it have been different if he’d never founded the Solar Union?
In truth, he knew he’d never know.
“We can't sit here and wait to be hit,” he added, shortly. “We need to take the fight to them.”
“I know,” Mongo said. “And I believe that your esteemed granddaughter has some ideas along those lines.”
Epilogue
All in all, Supreme Ruler Neola told herself, it hadn't been a complete failure.
Sure, the human ship had managed to escape an inescapable trap. And sure, the display of human weaponry had shocked all the observers. And, worst of all, the Harmonies had been humiliated in front of the other Galactics. She freely admitted that it was annoying - and frustrating - but it hadn't been a complete disaster.
She sat in her comfortable chair, studying the reports from her analysts. The human weapons were advanced, true, but there was nothing genuinely new. Using a gravity field generator to produce a pinpoint black hole was not something the Tokomak had ever considered, but it was hardly beyond their ability to duplicate. She had a thousand teams already working on duplicating and mass-producing the human weapons. And while their gravity field generators were not powerful enough to produce a gravity well powerful enough to yank a ship out of FTL, that too would change.
And, best of all, she knew enough about the human weapons to counter them.
It would be costly, she admitted to herself. But she could afford those losses, while the humans - and their allies - could not. Speed was not something that came naturally to her people, but even they could put a major fleet together and deploy it before the humans built their own and took the war back to the core. Even if she was wrong about that, her forces were already moving to secure the gravity points necessary to move ships to Sol. The humans would have to bleed themselves white just to break through a single gravity point.
And the Harmonies are now more tightly tied to me than ever, she thought. And they know to listen to me now.
She looked up at the starchart, silently calculating the odds. It wouldn't take that long to switch to mass production, as well as bringing the immense reserves they’d built up over the centuries online. And then, Sol would be crushed. She had no compunctions about sending a hundred thousand ships to do the job. Maybe it would be massive overkill, but she didn't care. A fleet twice the size of the one she’d led to Earth, years ago, would have won the battle.
And then ...
We will win, she promised herself. And humanity will be exterminated.
The End
Afterword
Roper: So now you'd give the Devil benefit of law!
More: Yes. What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?
Roper: I'd cut down every law in England to do that!
More: Oh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned round on you — where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat? This country's planted thick with laws from coast to coast - man's laws, not God's -and if you cut them down - and you're just the man to do it - d'you r
eally think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I'd give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safety's sake.
-A Man for All Seasons.
I talked about diplomacy in the To The Shores afterword, which you can also download from my site. I’d like to talk about something a little different here.
Shortly after it became clear that Donald Trump had won the 2016 election, a campaign started in an attempt to convince the Electoral College to declare Hillary Clinton the President instead ... on the grounds that Hillary Clinton had won the popular vote. This attempt failed and rightly so - the victory condition for a US Presidential election is not winning the most individual votes, but winning the majority of the states. The President must command a broad swath of support from all over the country, not just the highly-populated states. Like him or hate him, Trump won by the rules.
The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4) Page 42
