“Pity about the missiles,” Steve commented. “But I see your point.”
Kevin nodded in agreement. The fastest spacecraft built using purely human technology crawled, compared to Galactic missiles. But even they couldn’t outrace the warning of their arrival, allowing point defence systems to engage them before they entered engagement range. Keith Glass and his partners had several ideas for adapting humanity’s concepts to give the aliens a nasty surprise, but most of them were completely untested. The Galactics, it seemed, had the concept of Superiority, even if they had never read the book. They didn’t dare throw too much of their resources into scientific development out of fear of being overwhelmed by their opponents.
But you’d think they wouldn’t have a choice, he thought, as Quinn kept talking, explaining the number of minor improvements they’d made. Their enemies are slowly gaining on them in any case.
He waited for Quinn to finish, then led Steve into the next section, where Carolyn was waiting for them. Kevin smiled at her and allowed himself a moment of relief when she smiled back, rather than the odd expressions she’d given him on the ship. He introduced Steve quickly, then looked expectant. Carolyn didn’t disappoint.
“We have successfully unlocked the secret of basic antigravity,” she said. “I could give you the technobabble” — both Steve and Kevin shook their heads — “but the important part is that we can produce a limited antigravity field on command. We don’t have the sheer proficiency of alien technology, at least not yet, but we do have a way to get large amounts of cargo off Earth and into orbit without messing around with booster rockets. The downside” — she paused, significantly — “is that the system isn’t particularly stable and requires careful monitoring.”
She smiled at their expressions. “But, overall, it’s one hell of a step forward,” she added. “And we are working on unlocking more of their older secrets. For example, antimatter is actually quite simple to make, once we fabricate the right equipment.”
Kevin had to smile. The Galactics had never realised just how many clues their tech manuals, particularly those for technology they considered primitive, could give to the younger races. Maybe they couldn’t instantly duplicate Galactic technology, not now, but they could start understanding the underpinnings of the more advanced technology and inch towards mastering the best of Galactic science. And if they got some help, perhaps they could advance further forward than anyone dared to dream.
They’d programmed the fabricators not to produce antimatter-production systems. But the unlocked fabricators had no such restrictions. Given time, the human race would be able to produce vast amounts of antimatter too, which could be used as a weapon or converted into another power source. But it wasn’t something that could ever be used on a planet’s surface. The risk of disaster was too great.
“We could find quite a few uses for antimatter,” Kevin mused. “And it would create some interesting problems for anyone who wanted to attack us.”
“Good,” Steve said, briskly. “How long until we can start mass-production of antigravity units?”
Carolyn considered it. “Give us a few months to produce a finalised design, one attached to a computer specifically designed for monitoring and adjusting the field if necessary,” she said. “And then we can start churning them out on demand.”
“By then,” Kevin put in, “Markus thinks we will have quite a few orbital stations in place to start producing whatever we want.”
He shook his head in awe. He’d never realised just how quickly the high-tech firms would move to capitalise on the promise of space-based industries, now space travel had become almost routine. American, European and Japanese firms were scrambling to win contracts and request factories on the moon, while the rest of the planetary economy was struggling to come to terms with the chances wrought in just a few months. Given time, Kevin suspected, most of the planet’s industry would be in space. That, he hoped, would please the Greens.
And once we start fitting antigravity units to cargo aircraft, he thought, we will soar into outer space.
They wouldn’t be able to control it, he suspected, past a certain point. But they wouldn’t have to.
“Very good,” Steve said. “But how is it compared to Ying?”
Kevin sobered. “Very poor,” he said. “But Ying has been colonised for over a thousand years.”
“By a handful of rogues, criminals and refugees,” Steve said. “And yet they have a much more advanced industrial base than Earth.”
“I know,” Kevin said, flatly. “But we have to start somewhere.”
He watched Steve’s back as he moved from section to section, exchanging words with the researchers and discussing the future with the more personable scientists. If Kevin hadn’t known better — and he wasn’t sure he did know better — he would have said that Steve was depressed. Why would Steve be depressed? He was on the verge of making his dream real!
But he also knows how close he came to damnation, Kevin thought, glumly. That isn’t good for anyone.
They reached the section monitoring the alien POWs, where they were met by a handful of sociologists and psychologists. Steve listened with apparent interest as they told him how some of the POWs had started to show cracks in their mental conditioning, but Kevin knew better. Steve was only pretending to be interested; the rote responses he offered to their words only confirmed it. Kevin was rather more interested in the long-term implications if they did manage to humanise the Hordesmen, but Steve seemed unconcerned.
He needs a holiday, he thought, as they left the section. But where can he go?
“Steve,” he said, finally. “You’re working too hard.”
Steve gave him the look he’d always given his younger brother, back when Kevin had been old enough to talk, but not old enough to tell the difference between a really good idea and a recipe for disaster.
“I think I have too much to do,” he said, waving a hand around to indicate the lunar colony. “And where would I go, anyway?”
“Find an isolated desert island and go there for a few days with Mariko,” Kevin advised. “I think the Maldives have places for millionaires who want to be completely away from the rest of the world. You could book one, then go there and relax.”
“I could try,” Steve said, “but how could I leave this untended?”
Kevin sighed, inwardly. His brother had never been good at simply abandoning his responsibilities, which was at least partly why he’d had to leave the Marines. He could be stubborn, thick-headed and generally idiotic at times, although he was genuinely devoted to his friends and the ideal of his country. But it also made him unwilling to delegate authority more than he had to.
Or, Kevin thought, to take a holiday he desperately needs.
“You have created a staff,” he said. “Edward will handle mercenary recruitment, Charles will handle all other recruitment, I will handle intelligence, Rochester will handle the colony…”
“You’ve made your point,” Steve snapped.
“If something happens that requires your attention, you will be called back to the ship,” Kevin added. “Until then, you can just relax and take it easy for a few days.”
“I don’t notice you doing that,” Steve muttered. It was the tone he’d used when his brothers were right and he knew it, but he was unwilling to say so out loud. “What about you too?”