He caught sight of Gunter Dawlish and winced, inwardly. The Mainstream Media had promptly blasted Steve and his men for failing to defend New York, triggering off a series of flame wars online as bloggers took sides, some agreeing with the MSM and others pointing out that Steve had had no choice. Steve found it hard to argue; cold logic told him he’d done the right thing, emotion told him he’d fucked up badly. The cynical side of his mind asked, nastily, if he would have been so upset if New York had been spared. No other missiles had fallen in North America.
At least Gunter thought before passing judgement, Steve thought, sardonically. Some of the bloggers forgot to engage their brains before putting mouths in gear.
The sense of being among ghosts suddenly grew stronger. Steve staggered, wondering absurdly if the dead of New York wanted revenge. Or if they wanted to tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself and get back to work. There was no way to tell. It was quite possible, he knew, that he was imagining it. And yet the devastated island seemed full of ghosts.
“I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering. He’d sworn an oath to defend the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. By any standards, he’d failed. The vast power he’d acuminated only made it worse. “I’m sorry I failed to protect you. But it won’t happen again.”
Kevin lay in his bed on Captain Perry, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Carolyn’s deep breathing as she slept beside him. The sudden change in their relationship had come as a shock; he’d gone to her, intending to share dinner as usual, and she’d practically dragged him into bed. But quite a few new relationships had sprung up in the wake of the battle, he’d heard, either through people wanting to celebrate being alive or merely waking up to the fact that they might well end up dead, soon enough.
He was worried, more worried than he cared to admit, about the future. One attack on Earth had been barely staved off, another might be far more successful. And there were powers that wouldn’t want humans to enter the galactic mainstream. And then there was Steve…
Kevin shook his head, tiredly. He worried about his brother too. Part of him had just… folded in the wake of New York’s destruction, even though it was a victorious battle and humanity had survived. No man should acquire so much power so quickly without restraints, Kevin considered, even if Steve had had good advisors in Mongo and Kevin himself. And Mariko, Kevin added. In the wake of the battle, Steve had finally proposed. Kevin just hoped they’d get back to Earth in time for the wedding.
He sighed, then closed his eyes. Steve could leave, if he wanted, and become an interstellar trader. It would solve a great many problems if he did. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t left a legacy behind. Given five years of uninterrupted development, the Solar Union would become more than just a name. There would be the start of a human-built space fleet, a growing network of defences around Earth, and both mercenaries and traders out in space, learning more about the universe.
And there would always be Stuarts, ready to defend their homeworld; Steve and Mongo had already had children, while there was plenty of time for Kevin to have children of his own. If he had them with Carolyn, he considered, they would definitely be smart. And the family had a long history of defending their rights and their homes. Earth would be in good hands.
The future would take care of itself. It always did.
Epilogue
“Welcome home, Steve.”
Steve smiled as he saw Kevin, a little older, waiting for him in the teleport chamber.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said, as he wrapped Kevin up in a hug. “It’s been… what? Four years since I saw you and the kids?”
“I’m just glad you got here in time for the memorial service,” Kevin said. “In the five years since the Battle of Earth, you only ever attended the first ceremony.”
“You know the dangers of dwelling on the past,” Steve said, irked. He’d left the Sol System as soon as the elections had been held, naming Rochester as the first President of the Solar Union. Steve had felt it would be better for his successor if Steve himself was no longer around. “How far would we have come as a family if we’d kept blaming the English for kicking us out of Scotland?”
Kevin smiled. “I think it was the charge of being drunk and disorderly that really got to our ancestors,” he countered. “But we also have to remember the past.”
Steve shrugged. “Mariko and I went quite a bit further this time,” he said. “I sent back a handful of reports, but I’ve got a complete one here. So far, the war seems to have remained firmly stalemated. That may change though, soon.”
“Because of us,” Kevin said. He took the chip Steve passed him and dropped it into his pocket. “We could do with another few decades before the galaxy as a whole realises we exist.”
“We may not have that time,” Steve admitted. “It all depends on which way the lizards choose to jump.”
He shook his head. “But enough of that,” he said. “You’re the Director of Solar Intelligence, so give me some intelligence.”
“That would require brain surgery,” Kevin pointed out.
Steve snorted, rudely. “How are things in Heinlein these days? I heard the announcement about us having the millionth citizen on the way in.”
“Oddly bureaucratic, despite the best intentions of our laws,” Kevin conceded. “It seems natural that we develop government, then the government starts growing out of control.”
“I’m not surprised,” Steve said. He took the beer Kevin offered him, then sat down. “But you know what? There’s a whole universe out there. Anyone who doesn’t fit in here will be able to go outwards, if they wish. And the problem will take care of itself.”
“As long as the Galactics don’t take care of us,” Kevin said. “One day, one day soon, they will notice. And then the shit will really hit the fan.”
“Give us time,” Steve said. “By the time they notice, we will be ready.”
Afterword
My writing process is fairly simple. I write three chapters a day, post them on various forums and then read the comments, insert corrections, etc. (God bless everyone who sends in a typo-note, as there’s no such thing as a minor correction in the writing world.) Sometimes, I get genuinely interesting responses from people who disagree with me — or, rather, with the characters.
I had reached about twelve/thirteen chapters into A Learning Experience when I noted an interesting trend on a couple of discussion forums. People were commenting on what they saw as foolish and/or unrealistic actions by the main characters, the US Government and just about everyone else. A couple of those comments verged into ‘mistake the author for his characters’ territory and were duly ignored. The remainder struck me as interesting — and, in some respects, the inevitable result of commenting on an unfinished book.
As both Kevin and Mongo pointed out in the text, not all of Steve’s actions and thoughts are wise ones. He could have avoided the ‘skirmish’ with the DHS, he could have found less dramatic ways to make his point and he came alarmingly close to committing outright genocide. But such is character development. Characters who are perfect are not only boring, they are unrealistic. A character who grows and develops, on the other hand, is a representative of the whole human condition.
Steve starts out heavily political; he’s alienated from his country’s government, he doesn’t trust those schmucks in Washington and he has more or less withdrawn from society. He chooses to spend a large amount of his time dwelling on a government betrayal and grumbling about the sad state of near-future America. And then effectively limitless power (at least on Earth) is simply dropped into his hands. Steve, as several characters point out, could attack Washington and take power for himself. Instead, he chooses to set up a new Wild West and invite anyone who feels like him to reach for the stars.