Future Shock, page 31
And what would George Washington and Benjamin Franklin think of us, he asked himself, if they came to the future and saw this?
The thought made him grit his teeth. The United States was the finest nation on the planet. He’d seen enough over his career to be sure of it, from the authoritarian governments in Europe that covered their dictatorship with a thin veneer of democracy to the fascist states that didn’t even bother to hide their true nature. He would sooner be a poor man in America than a wealthy man in China, if only because no amount of wealth could offer safety in such a system, and he had no doubts about it. But it was painful to realise how far the United States had fallen from the ideals of the Founding Fathers, how much freedom had been lost in the interests of safety ... a safety that had never materialised, not for the vast majority of the population. He’d been lucky, growing up in a military family in the suburbs. Cassidy had no shortage of horror stories about being a young girl in New York. And she’d been lucky compared to many others.
No wonder the colonies are going to revolt, he thought. They had, in the shadowy other history ... and who could blame them? How are we going to sort out that mess?
The door opened, behind him. “Sir? Admiral Garland will see you now.”
Hamish nodded, turning away from the window and the disturbing scene outside. The protesters wanted blood, alien blood. They wanted the navy to blast the alien homeworld from orbit, turning it into a radioactive hellhole, or land troops and systematically slaughter every last alien, every last man, woman and child. Hamish understood how they felt, if only because part of him felt the same way too. The urge for bloody revenge, driven by alien horror and a grim awareness of how many times the United States had turned the other cheek instead of punishing the guilty as they deserved, festered within him. There were protesters down there who thought him a traitor for not blasting Diyang-14 back to the Stone Age, never mind that it would be an atrocity that would make Hitler or Stalin look like rank amateurs or that Boswell would have flatly refused to go along with it. Hamish almost envied the other man. He had a certain distance from the era that Hamish, born and bred in the current time, couldn’t hope to emulate.
But he’s trapped here, with the rest of us, he reminded himself. There’s only so long he can keep himself aloof.
His lips twitched as they made their way through a pair of security checks and into the admiral’s office. The future folk were spoiled sweet, children who had indulgent parents who gave them everything they wanted ... and, somehow, were as nice as could be instead of becoming entitled spoilt brats. The navy psychologists had produced a whole string of articles arguing why that might be so, complex pieces of jargon that made Hamish’s head hurt whenever he tried to read them – they weren’t written in English, but Academese – and offered complicated explanations instead of running with the simplest. The future folk had so much they no more needed to think about where their next meal was coming from than he needed to think about breathing ... no, they’d had so much. It was going to be a rough day when it finally dawned on the future civilians they were going to have to work for a living.
Admiral Garland looked up as they entered. “Thank you, Shelia,” he said, to Hamish’s escort. “Please fetch us some coffee, then hold my calls unless they’re Alpha-One.”
“Yes, sir.”
The admiral nodded to Hamish as the ensign left the room. “I’m sorry for the last few days,” he said. “Being an admiral sometimes means you’re the target of a mass interrogation.”
Hamish nodded, taking the offered seat. The United Nations Committee for the Conduct of the War was a political football, a genuine attempt to get the Great Powers working together or some combination of the two, and the committee had spent several days going over everything that had happened at Diyang-14. It had been a nightmarish process, with questions being repeated time and time again – as if his answers would change with every repetition – covering everything from sensible matters to issues that had little or no bearing on the engagement, the navy or even his career. He had a nasty feeling some of the ambassadors and uniformed politicians were taking advantage of the committee to grandstand, although it was hard to be sure. The briefing had suggested the real work was done elsewhere, while the committee served to ask questions and otherwise keep certain people out of trouble.
Or perhaps I’m reading too much into it, Hamish thought, as Shelia returned with two cups of coffee and a plate of biscuits. The engagement didn’t quite go the way we wanted.
“The news leaked almost at once,” Admiral Garland said, once Shelia had withdrawn as silently as she’d come. “I hope it wasn’t your girlfriend who broke the gag order.”
Hamish felt himself flush. “No, sir,” he said. He was fairly sure Cassidy wouldn’t have broken an explicit gag order. “The records didn’t come from Grant, or John Birmingham.”
“I suppose she must have learned her lesson,” Admiral Garland said. “So who did break the story?”
“I don’t know,” Hamish said, suppressing a flash of irritation. The committee had asked him that question time and time again, inviting him to speculate ... not something he could do without a certain degree of evidence. The records had presumably come from a naval officer, unless the reporter had actually hacked the starship’s datacore, but there were just too many possible suspects and no way to narrow it down. “I don’t think we could have kept the atrocities secret for long, in any case.”
“Don’t say that too loudly, or they’ll be pointing the finger at you.” Admiral Garland met his eyes. “The truth getting out, Hamish, means that we are constrained in how we respond to the crisis.”
“Yes, sir,” Hamish said.
“Right now, there are two streams of thought in the body politic,” the admiral continued. “One wants bloody revenge, I’m sure you saw the people outside. Polls suggest that much of the country, indeed the world, agrees with them. They’re pressing for punitive strikes against enemy worlds, even at the risk of killing human prisoners.”
Hamish swallowed. “Sir, with all due respect, Boswell and his crew will not support such atrocities. And yes, it would be an atrocity.”
“I agree, for what it’s worth,” Admiral Garland said. “The problem is that the country hasn’t been so politically engaged for decades. The prospect of future technology becoming mainstream, for example, has excited opinion in ways our lords and masters are finding very difficult to control. There will be real trouble, I suspect, if we don’t do something to satisfy the protesters.”
“I ...” Hamish swallowed, again. “Are we going to order mass murder to avoid a political crisis?”
“I’d suggest you didn’t say that again,” Admiral Garland said. “And hopefully no.”
He paused. “The second stream of thought is that we need to liberate the colonies. Now. Before the future starships arrived, we were too busy worrying about Earth to try to do more than send scoutships back to the colonies; afterwards, the history records suggested we could leave the colonies, on the grounds the occupiers wouldn’t try to harm the civilians. But that can no longer be taken for granted. How many other prisoners have been taken further into enemy space? And what is happening to the people left behind?”
Hamish winced. His family’s fate remained unknown. “We don’t know.”
“No,” Admiral Garland agreed. “And the question is roiling the body politic.”
Hamish understood, better than he cared to admit. The colonies were a source of national pride, the colonists themselves held up as brave adventurers settling out to tame a new world and, just incidentally, build new lives for themselves. They were brave, he knew; he’d always intended to emigrate himself, once his time in naval service was over. It didn’t matter if the colonists were American or European or Russian or Chinese; they were seen as representing the best of their homelands. And now they were trapped behind an iron curtain, exposed to the tender mercies of an alien race that had demonstrated it had no qualms about torturing humans for information they didn’t have.
And a few moments of rational thought would convince them their prisoners couldn’t possibly know anything, he reflected, rather tiredly. No one had known John Birmingham and her escorts existed, until they’d fallen out of a time warp, and even if they had been part of a top secret government project, the colonists wouldn’t have known about them anyway. They must be panicking.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Commodore Boswell thinks we should strike at Diyang Prime and end the war in a single stroke.”
“So you said, to the committee,” Admiral Garland said. “Unfortunately, they disagree.”
Hamish blinked. “Sir?”
“They want you and your squadrons to liberate the colonies first,” Admiral Garland told him, bluntly. “They also want to lay the groundwork for a proper offensive into enemy territory rather than a strike aimed directly at their homeworld.”
Hamish hesitated, his desire to save his family struggling with his military training. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”
“There’s no recording devices in here,” Admiral Garland said. “You may speak as you wish.”
“Noted.” Hamish doubted that was wholly true, but he pressed ahead anyway. “With all due respect, this is a serious mistake.”
Admiral Garland raised his eyebrows. “It is?”
“Yes.” Hamish leaned forward. “Interstellar warfare follows rules of its own. If we get behind enemy lines, take out as much of their fleet and industrial base as possible and then withdraw again – if the enemy homeworld cannot be held – the rest of their forces will wither on the vine until they are no longer combat-effective. We’ll be able to mop them up at leisure or simply leave them to die. It doesn’t matter how much insight they have into our technology and capabilities, sir, if they lack the ability to take advantage of it. We could end the war very quickly if we act now.”
“They have already shown a disturbing adaptability,” Admiral Garland said, tonelessly. “If we thrust into their territory without careful preparation, we may lose more ships and crews.”
“All the more reason to act now,” Hamish said. He felt as if he were betraying his family. “The longer we give them to prepare, the greater the danger of them coming up with something effective.”
He scowled. Boswell’s analysts were fairly sure the Diyang couldn’t push past a certain point even if they had full access to the future database, which they didn’t. There were limits to how quickly modern – futuristic – technology could be put into production; they’d have to make the machines to make the machines, for one thing, and then sort out all the little problems that would come with taking a diagram off the database and trying to make it actually work. Hamish understood and accepted their point, but it didn’t mean the Diyang were harmless. They would be doing everything in their power to strengthen their defences. If they managed to ram a future starship ...
“I understand your point, but there are some countervailing arguments,” Admiral Garland said. He held up a hand before Hamish could speak. “First, our assumption the colonists would be left alone was clearly false, which means the longer we leave those worlds under occupation, the more time the Diyang will have to harm or kill the colonists. We have a duty to protect American civilians, Hamish, and our allies have a duty to protect their own civilians. I do understand your logic, and I suspect most of the committee understands it too, but we cannot leave humans in alien hands any longer than strictly necessary.”
Hamish flushed. “Yes, sir.”
“Second, the colonies represent massive investments, in both colonists and treasure,” Admiral Garland continued. “Historically” – his lips thinned, as if an alternate future didn’t really count as history – “the colonies were largely untouched by the war, save for the destruction of their spaceports and orbital facilities. Their founding nations were able to recover the systems, rebuild the destroyed facilities, and continue onwards from there. Now, however, we don’t know if that’s true. A destroyed colony would be difficult to rebuild, even if the founding nation can find colonists willing to resettle a ruined world, one that no longer feels safe.
“And third, the colonies will be needed as bases to strike further into enemy territory.”
“Which isn’t such a problem with the future starships providing transport,” Hamish pointed out. “They can jump halfway across known space in the blink of an eye.”
“The future starships are not invincible,” Admiral Garland reminded him. “If we lose one, we lose a great deal of mobility. And there are people in the committee who don’t want to be dependent on the future crews.”
Hamish frowned. “Then why not push for victory now?”
“They want to recover the colonies before the colonists can be butchered,” Admiral Garland said, sharply. “From a military point of view, you are correct; from a political point of view, we cannot let the colonists be slaughtered if there is any way to prevent it. It will not go down well with the public.”
“Yes, sir,” Hamish said. “But why ...”
A thought crossed his mind. “Are the other governments planning to move troops to the colonies to prevent later trouble, even rebellions? Are we doing the same?”
Admiral Garland said nothing for a long moment. “I suspect the thought isn’t far from their minds,” he said, finally. “The risk of losing the colonies to a rebellion is dangerously high ... even for us ... and it’ll be worse if the colonists think we abandoned them to their fate. I don’t know what the Chinese and Russians are thinking, but I suspect nearly every nation that settled a world is thinking about ways to keep it. If they can prevent trouble from brewing, they might be able to save themselves.”
“And instead of making reasonable concessions, they’re preparing to dig in and fight,” Hamish said. “That didn’t work out very well for King George, did it?”
“That isn’t your concern, Hamish.” Admiral Garland’s voice hardened. “I understand your logic for urging a deep strike, but we are military men, and we must bow to the dictates of our political masters. If this was solely an American operation, there might be room for debate ... it isn’t and there isn’t. I understand, really I do, but ...”
Hamish felt his own voice harden. “So we’re bowing to Chinese and Russian demands, in order to maintain the alliance?”
“First, don’t imagine it is just the Chinese and Russians making these demands,” Admiral Garland said. “It isn’t. Our own Planetary Settlement Department is making the same demands, for much the same reasons. And second, we do need to maintain the alliance. And that, Admiral, means we have to listen to our allies, and compromise with them, rather than acting like the dog in the manger. There is no way we can act alone, not now, and if we try we’ll find ourselves isolated very quickly. Like I said, I do understand your concerns, but ...”
His voice trailed off. Hamish scowled. “Shut up and soldier?”
“Quite.” Admiral Garland met his eyes. “The decision has been taken, Admiral, by the people who have the authority to take it. Your arguments aren’t unfounded, and I agree with most of them, but the decision has been made. Will you carry out your orders?”
Hamish nodded, stiffly. “Yes, sir,” he said. “But I think we’re making a mistake.”
Chapter Thirty-Three: Chinese Spaceport, 2308
His security team were not happy.
Chairman Tsang resisted the temptation to rebuke the team leader as he waited just inside the terminal, all too aware the man wasn’t wrong to be worried. They were well away from Beijing, well away from the colossal security forces that could be summoned to whisk him away and put the entire area into lockdown while the threat was summarily terminated; there was a very real risk of being assassinated, if one of his rivals realised how exposed their chairman was, or simply being recognised and assaulted by his own people. Outbursts of anti-regime revolts weren’t unknown outside the big cities, where they couldn’t be shut down in a hurry, and even in the cities there were random bursts of violence that couldn’t be wholly prevented no matter how many police, security officers and troops flooded the streets. And now, with super-advanced humans and aliens entering the mix, it was hard – if not impossible – to be sure what they might face. They could take every reasonable precaution and still find themselves losing to a threat they couldn’t possibly predict.
We faced the Americans and Europeans on equal terms, he reminded himself. The Americans had always been annoyingly ingenious, when their government had gotten out of the way and let their inventors do their thing, but China had never fallen so far behind that the Americans could dismiss her without a second thought. The 120 years of humiliation, where China had been carved up between Western powers who hadn’t cared one jot for her resistance, were over, and they would never come again. But who knows what the future people can do?
The thought made him scowl. The future histories were bad enough, but the introduction of future technology was likely to be far worse. They could suppress news of the future, and to a very great extent they had, covering up the general gist of the alternate timeline as well as the names of the heroes and villains; there was no way to hide the advanced technology being offered to the military, technology so far beyond their own that it might as well be magic. It was galling to realise it was simple to the future people, crumbs from a very rich table. If they could do so much so quickly, he asked himself again and again, what could they do in a few years? The projections didn’t make comforting reading. He wanted to believe the analysts were wrong. He feared otherwise.
