The isolated children, the outcasts, had always been easy prey for manipulators. And it was far too hard to counter it in each and every specific case. He felt a twinge of bitter guilt. What, if anything, had they done to Cn!lss? They’d practically made him the same offer of a home where he didn’t run the risk of dying because some Horde Commander was having a bad day. To him, it had to seem like an offer of paradise.
But it had to be worse than any merely human intelligence coup. Americans and Russians were human. Humans and Hordesmen were very different races. Cn!lss might never see his own kind again. He would never have a mate… well, he probably wouldn’t have had one anyway. Horde society assigned mates to the strong, not to the intelligent. And abducting wives was considered good sport.
“We will make a home for your people and change their society,” he said. “There will be Hordesmen raised in a very different culture, one that values intelligence rather than brute force and stupidity. And you will have a home there.”
“Thank you,” Cn!lss said. It was always hard to be sure, but he seemed unconvinced. “But my people do not change.”
Kevin had his doubts. The tests had suggested that most Hordesmen, like humans, shared the same basic level of intelligence. It was just stunted, quite deliberately, by their upbringing. Given a very different upbringing, there would be more Hordesmen learning to use their intelligence, rather than fighting their way through a finishing school that looked absolutely murderous. And who knew what they would become then? Perhaps, instead of building their own empire, the human race could build a United Federation of Planets.
He smiled. If nothing else, laying plans for the future would help to pass the time on the voyage home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Near Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
The mansion had been designed to resemble nothing less than a desert tent, as if the occupants still clung to the lives of their ancestors. It was a lie, of course; the occupants enjoyed riches and luxuries the ancient desert clans would have found completely beyond their comprehension, when they weren’t sneering at them. Oil wealth had warped Saudi Arabia’s society out of all recognition; social unrest threatened every time the government tried to reduce benefits to its population, while the unemployed and unemployable young male Saudis had plenty of time to consider both the finer points of Islam and their own royal family’s adherence to those values.
And now those thoughts will become sharper, the Foreign Minister thought, as he climbed out of the car and walked towards the mansion. His bodyguards fanned out around him, watching for trouble. The Pakistanis were loyal as long as they were paid, he knew. But how long could they be paid?
It might not matter, he knew. Part of their contract was an agreement they could stay in Saudi Arabia if necessary, along with their wives and children. Pakistan looked to be on the verge of civil war, even though large chunks of the Taliban leadership had simply been wiped out. But he didn’t care to gamble with his family’s safety — and their grip over the country they ruled as a private fiefdom. It was already shaky enough after the Americans had started to develop new technology.
He gritted his teeth as they reached the doors and stepped inside. The American infidels didn’t fool him, not really. They wanted — they needed — to break the oil monopoly, particularly now their country held an increasing hatred for Saudi Arabia and the Middle East. No matter the vast sums of money spent on shaping political and public opinion in the West, it was becoming increasingly clear that the flood of off-world technology would eventually shatter the monopoly completely. And once that happened…
The Foreign Minister had no illusions about his family’s popularity. They were hated, increasingly so, by the people they claimed to rule. Any step towards democratic government, no matter how slight, ran the risk of becoming disastrous, while they could hardly become more Islamic without risking an eventual takeover by the religious leaders. Hell, it would be damn near impossible to force his family to become more Islamic. Very few of them even bothered to fast on Ramadan, let alone honour the other tenets of Islam.
There was a long pause as the bodyguards met other bodyguards and exchanged glares, then the Foreign Minister stepped past them and into the meeting room. Three other men stood there, one from Bahrain, one from Dubai and one from Iran. He couldn’t help wondering just what was going through the Iranian’s mind. Iran and Saudi Arabia hated each other so thoroughly that, absent the presence of Saddam and later the Americans, they would have gone to war years ago. But the Foreign Minister had no illusions about the military balance of power either. If the Americans stayed out of the war, Iran would almost certainly win within a year.
It was the age-old problem for any Arab ruler, he knew. If they actually trained their men to be competent soldiers, part of a much larger army, they ran the risk of being deposed in a coup. Allah knew there had been hundreds of coup plots over the last fifty years, some of which had come alarmingly close to being launched. But if they kept their militaries weak and divided, commanders fearful to talk to one another because of the risk of being taken for spies, they would lose all military effectiveness. If the Americans hadn’t protected Saudi Arabia for so long…
He pushed the thought aside as he greeted the Iranian, reminding himself firmly to be diplomatic. The Iranian had been invited, after all, as had the other two. All four nations ran the risk of being completely marginalised, thanks to the influx of off-world technology. If they worked together, they might manage to save themselves. And if they didn’t, they were all thoroughly screwed.
Perhaps I should start sending my family out of the country, the Foreign Minister thought, as he sat down on the rug. Getting Saudis and Iranians to work together will be like herding cats and dogs.
There was a pause as serving men appeared from the side doors, carrying trays of coffee, rice and meat, then — once they were gone — the diplomats started to eat. It felt oddly surreal to the Foreign Minister, who would never normally have chatted to an Iranian in such relaxed surroundings, but it was necessary. Leave it to the Americans to be blunt and direct. The Arabs had a different way of looking at the world. But then, he reminded himself, the Iranians were not Arabs. Indeed, they would find the claim they were rather insulting.
“We have a problem,” he said, when the meal was finished and their coffee was replenished. “The new influx of technology threatens us all.”
“It threatens you more than us,” the Iranian pointed out. “Our country is stable.”
Economically speaking, the Foreign Minister thought, he had a point. Iran had a self-reliance that Saudi Arabia would never be able to develop for itself. But if it couldn’t export oil at all, it would still take a major hit in the pocketbook. The long-term results would be devastating.
“There is also the influx of new computer technology,” the Foreign Minister countered. “What is that doing to you?”
The Iranian glowered, then nodded. Saudi Arabia had had its own problems with the new dongles, despite a hasty religious ruling from the clerics that buying and using one was against Islamic Law. Getting that ruling had cost the family dearly, but it seemed to have had little effect. Several dozen dongles had been confiscated by the Security Ministry, while Allah alone knew how many others were drifting through the country, completely undermining the computer firewalls the government used to prevent its citizens from accessing large parts of the internet. Officially, the firewalls were meant to protect innocent minds from pornography, but everyone knew the truth. The firewalls were intended to keep people who might disagree with the government from talking to one another.