We will have to do something about their nukes, Steve thought, coldly. But it wouldn’t sit well with the pledge of non-interference. Or perhaps we should just leave the Middle East to them.
Komura beckoned to Steve frantically as the roar grew louder. UN security forces were rushing into the room, hastily preparing to separate the ambassadors if the threatening riot actually materialised. Steve hesitated, then allowed the Japanese man to lead him out of the chamber and into a small antechamber. Inside, there was a comfortable pair of armchairs and a small tray of expensive alcohol. Steve took one look, then dismissed it.
“There are some diplomats who wish to talk to you,” Komura said. “In private, I should add.”
He hesitated, then leaned forward. “Are you interested in recruiting a semi-professional diplomat?”
Steve turned to look at him. “And you’re interested in being hired?”
“Yes,” Komura said. “Have you ever tried to work here?”
“No,” Steve said. He gave the young man a long considering look, then nodded to himself and produced one of Charles’s cards from his pocket. “Call this number, then go to the address they give you for pickup. You’ll have to undergo a security check first, but if you pass you’ll be welcome.”
Komura nodded. “And if I don’t pass?”
“Nothing bad will happen,” Steve said. “But you won’t get to see the stars.”
By the time he finally found time to move to the hotel and meet the reporter, Steve felt utterly exhausted. As he’d expected, several nations had attempted to strike private bargains with him, the French and Israelis being the most persistent. The latter had good reason to need Steve’s technology — they’d offered everything from diplomatic recognition to outright military support — but the former seemed to be playing both ends off against the middle in hopes of coming out ahead. It was a typically underhand dealing for diplomats in the UN.
Gunter Dawlish had started to report from Afghanistan after Steve had retired from the military, but his name wasn’t unfamiliar. Steve had read a few of his articles before the attempted abduction, what now felt like years ago. He’d spoken to Craig Henderson and a couple of others he knew who had stayed in uniform and they’d all confirmed that Dawlish was a straight-shooter. Maybe not inclined to take everything said by the military for granted — Steve could hardly blame him for that attitude in an age of spin — but not an ideological or personal enemy of the armed forces.
“Mr. Stuart,” Dawlish greeted him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”
Steve smiled. Before Dawlish had finally been accepted as the first reporter to get a private interview, Kevin had interrogated him thoroughly. The reporter had agreed to let Steve and Kevin read his article before it was posted, then make changes if any were suggested. Steve had agreed, in turn, that the whole interview would be recorded and the only changes would concern his own words, rather than the editorial slant. Later, the record would be released on the internet in any case.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “And thank you for agreeing to meet something private.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to risk this scoop,” Dawlish assured him. He took a seat and then motioned for Steve to sit down facing him. “First question, then. Where you responsible for events in Afghanistan?”
Steve lifted his eyebrows. “Yes,” he said, finally. “We were.”
Dawlish nodded, then changed tack. “How much of the official story is actually true?”
“Almost all of it,” Steve said, without going into details. So far, the President had managed to cover up most of the DHS raid and he wasn’t going to broadcast the story unilaterally. “All you really need to know is that we were kidnapped by aliens, turned the tables on them and took control of their ship.”
“And that there really is an alien threat,” Dawlish said. “Do you believe we can build a defence in time?”
Steve met the reporter’s eyes. “I believe that if we don’t try, right now, we will never know,” he said. “Earth is small beans, by Galactic standards. Most of them don’t even have the faintest idea we exist and care less. But that is about to change. We will be… protected, if we’re lucky, or enslaved if we’re not. Building a formidable defence is our only hope of salvation.”
Dawlish nodded. “There’s been a lot of speculation on the internet about what kind of society you intend to build,” he said. “Some people have been expecting a redneck paradise, with only WASPs allowed, while others think you’re going to build a Objectivist dream, with you as John Galt. What do you really intend to build?”
Steve frowned, inwardly. The President had also mentioned John Galt. Coincidence?
Probably, he decided. “I don’t have time to explain all the flaws in Atlas Shrugged,” he said, after a moment. “Unless you want to turn the rest of the interview into a literary criticism session?”
Dawlish shook his head, hastily.
Somewhat amused, Steve went on. “The short answer is that we intend to build a democratic state built on individual rights and responsibilities,” he said. “Generally, anyone who is willing to accept the rights and responsibilities of being a citizen will be welcome to join us as a voting citizen. We don’t really give a shit — pardon my French — about age, race, sexual orientation or religion. As long as someone is prepared to uphold their rights and responsibilities, they are welcome.”
“That’s interesting,” Dawlish said. “There’s a preacher in Montana claiming you’re going to build a world without homosexuals, Jews, Muslims and Catholics.”
Steve shrugged. “I’m not a member of any church,” he said. “I can’t be held responsible for a loudmouth who just happens to share the same state as myself. If anyone else thinks I should be…”
He shrugged, again. “That’s their problem,” he explained. “Basically, we intend to uphold personal rights and responsibilities. You have the right to do whatever you please as long as you don’t hurt non-consenting adults. If you do, you will be tried by a jury and punished as the jury sees fit. We expect there will be some teething problems along the way, but that’s the basic idea.”
“Some teething problems,” Dawlish said. “I used to study the opening of the Wild West. Just establishing law and order took years.”
“We may well have the same problems,” Steve said. “I have several people looking at legal issues for homesteaders in the outer solar system. Upholding their rights requires a force capable of doing just that, but such a force could easily turn into a major problem in its own right. Just look at the federal government.”
Dawlish leaned forward. “Are you anti-government?”
Steve had expected the question, but it was still tricky to answer. “I believe that as long as humans are imperfect beings, we need some form of government,” he said. “A lawless anarchy might sound ideal, but it would rapidly devolve into the stronger picking on the weaker. At the same time, I believe that the government can grow too big and too powerful and become a bully itself. That, I think, is what has happened to our federal government.
“I could cite any number of cases where federal authority has been abused, without any recourse for the victim of federal mistreatment. There are farmers who have been raided for daring to sell untreated milk, small businesses ruined by pointless petty regulations, political correctness allowed to drive wedges between people, policemen abusing the general public, lives torn apart and people jailed because of the tiny difference between a legal and illegal weapon. And, if you look at the laws the right way, everything the government does is perfectly legal.