Often a very safe distance, Kevin thought. He remembered Trotsky and shuddered. But sometimes not far enough.
“I see,” he said, finally. “And what’s happened in those countries now the leaders are gone?”
“Bahrain’s remaining government has been overwhelmed,” Steve said. “So far, they’re still arguing over the composition of their new government and eying both the Saudis and Iranians nervously. Saudi itself is having major problems with riots in the streets, Iran seems to be in a state of shock. Thankfully, as they are a much more established nation, the loss of the senior government hasn’t crippled their ability to feed their population.”
“Good,” Kevin said. “And what about yourself?”
Steve met his eyes. “I came far too close to obliterating half the Middle East,” he said. “What sort of monster does that make me?”
Kevin shrugged. “Do you know how many times I dreamed of something that would exterminate the population of Afghanistan?”
He stood up and started to pace. “I had this romantic vision of tribesmen sweeping majestically across the mountains, even though I knew it to be nonsense,” he admitted. “I lost it very quickly, when faced with a people who seemed to consider deception second nature. Everyone lied to us; civilians lied because they feared Taliban retaliation, soldiers lied because they didn’t want to admit they didn’t know what they were doing. It wasn’t long before I was thoroughly sick of the sheer hypocrisy underlying everything they said and did.
“Rape is illegal, but they force girls into marriage that is rape by any other name. Prostitution is illegal, yet the Taliban was quite happy to run brothels for its fighting men. Homosexuality is illegal, but catamites and outright male rape are common throughout Afghanistan. Drug abuse is illegal, yet they grow poppies to produce opium to help fund their war. Oh, there were times when I would have gladly slaughtered the bastards in job lots.
“But I didn’t, and you didn’t,” he concluded. “Having the thought doesn’t make you evil, it’s carrying it out that would take you across the moral event horizon. How many times have you considered homicide and never actually done it?”
Steve nodded, wordlessly.
“It’s good that you’ve learnt some of the limits of power,” Kevin added, returning to his seat. “But I don’t think you’ve crossed the line into outright evil.”
“Mongo chewed me out,” Steve said. “If he hadn’t…”
“Mariko would have done it,” Kevin said. “Or Charles. Or Vincent’s ghost would have risen from the grave to condemn you for committing genocide. Instead… you removed the guilty and gave their victims a chance to take the freedom they deserve.”
“Or plunge into civil war,” Steve said. “Saudi really doesn’t look good these days.”
Kevin smirked. “Fuck the bastards,” he said. “Now… my turn.”
He braced himself, then started to give a complete report of everything that had happened since they’d left Earth. Steve leaned forward, interested, when Kevin reached the section about the meeting with Friend and the deal to send human mercenaries to fight beside the aliens. They’d considered the possibility, ever since realising that humans had been abducted and turned into warriors by one alien race, but it was still an unpleasant surprise. Steve took a copy of the agreement, read through it very carefully, and then looked up.
“This is better than I expected,” he said. “Is there a sting in the tail?”
“As far as I can tell, there’s nothing wrong with any of the supplies or technical support they gave us,” Kevin said. He wasn’t blind to the implications of the aliens producing so much so quickly. From their point of view, it had to be a relatively small payment. “And we will progress much faster if we have help.”
He paused. “The terms and conditions are part of the agreement,” he added. “They’re not bad at all, at least from our point of view. I think they’re desperate.”
“It certainly looks that way,” Steve agreed. He looked up, suddenly. “But would the introduction of a handful of humans turn the tide? It sounds like the plot of a bad space opera.”
“It actually makes a certain kind of sense,” Kevin said. He’d downloaded texts on interstellar warfare from the alien database and read through them on the way home. “Their major planets are heavily defended, Steve. They have planet-based energy weapons, heavy force fields and plenty of other surprises. Taking the high orbitals would be tricky, to say the least; they’re forced to land troops and take out the planetary defence centres on the ground.”
He shivered, remembering some of the records they’d found on Ying. Invading a heavily-defended planet was incredibly difficult — and bloody. It made the greatest battles of the United States Marine Corps look like minor squabbles… which, from the alien point of view, he supposed they were. A race that counted hundreds of stars amid its empire wouldn’t be too impressed by either America or Japan. Why, even the British Empire at its height had only claimed a quarter of the world’s surface.
“But it also explains, I think, why we were left alone for so long,” he added. “The major powers in this part of the galaxy are involved in a long slow war.”
He’d read through the political notes too, although he had his doubts over how complete they actually were. One major power, backed by a far distant empire, was trying to dominate the rest of the sector, which seemed to be set to keep the wars going indefinitely. Kevin’s original thought — that the far-distant power had set out to create an endless war deliberately — seemed to have been right. As long as the minor powers were fighting, they weren’t threatening their far-distant power.
“Which leaves us with the problem of which side to support,” Steve mused.
Kevin slapped the table, hard. “Steve… these races… even the smallest of the interstellar powers is far more powerful than all of humanity put together,” he said. “Our best bet for survival, I think, is to ally ourselves with the side that hasn’t been force-cloning human tissue and use the time to build up our own position. We are, at best, a microstate. The major interstellar powers will laugh at us if we try to hold any pretensions to power.”
He shrugged. “Hell, the Horde has more starships than us.”
“I know,” Steve admitted.
Kevin sat back in his chair. “I propose we send them the mercenaries — or, rather, humans who are trained in observing and learning as much as possible from their surroundings,” he said. He’d spent a lot of time considering the practicalities on the flight home. “They come back to Earth for leave, we debrief them and learn everything they know. In the meantime, we use this the money we will be paid to build up our own forces. Eventually, we will be able to take the risk of stepping openly onto the galactic stage.”
Steve frowned. “There’s one problem with this,” he said. “Once the Varnar realise they’re facing human soldiers, and they will, they will attack Earth. Destroying our planet would cut off the supply of human troops.”
“That’s the risk we have to take,” Kevin said. He paused. “But we can use one of the ships we’re being sent to set up an isolated colony far beyond the edge of galactic civilisation. The human race will live on, even if Earth herself is destroyed. And we will come back for revenge one day.”
“I hope you’re right,” Steve said. He paused. “We could probably round up five thousand experienced soldiers, but if it’s going to be more than that we will need help from the planetary governments.”
Kevin nodded. “They’d want to have some involvement,” he agreed. “But I think we have very little choice.”