The Armageddon Inheritance

Tsien regarded him for a moment, then dipped his head in a tiny nod.

“Yes. All of my nominees were confirmed, and the Governor’s demonstration of his biotechnics—” Tsien hesitated briefly on the still unfamiliar word “—and those other items of Imperial technology were also convincing. I believe—indeed, I have no choice but to believe—your warnings of the Achuultani, and that you and your fellows are making every effort to achieve success. In light of all those things, I have no choice but to join your effort. I do not say it will be easy, General Hatcher, but we shall certainly make the attempt. And, I believe, succeed.”

“Good,” Hatcher said again, then leaned back with a smile. “In that case, Marshal, we’re ready to run the first thousand perso

“Ah?” Tsien sat a bit straighter. This was moving with speed, indeed! He had not expected these Westerners— He stopped and corrected himself. He had not expected these people to offer such things so soon. Surely there would be a period of testing and evaluation of sincerity first!

But when he looked across at the American, the slight, ironic twinkle in Hatcher’s eyes told him his host knew precisely what he was thinking, and the realization made him feel just a bit ashamed.

“Comrade General,” he said finally, “I appreciate your generosity, but—”

“Not generosity, Marshal. We’ve been enhancing our perso

Tsien blinked, and Hatcher smiled.

“Marshal Tsien, we are fellow officers serving the same commander-in- chief. If we don’t act accordingly, some will doubt our claims of solidarity are genuine. They are genuine. We will proceed on that basis.”

He leaned back and raised both hands shoulder-high, open palms uppermost, and Tsien nodded slowly.

“You are correct. Generous nonetheless, but correct. And perhaps I am discovering that more than our governor are formidable men, Comrade General.”

“Gerald, please. Or just ‘Ger,’ if you’re comfortable with it.”

Tsien began a polite refusal, then paused. He had never been comfortable with easy familiarity between serving officers, even among his fellow Asians, yet there was something charming about this American. Not boyish (though he understood Westerners prized that quality for some peculiar reason), but charming. Hatcher’s competence and hard-headed, forthright honesty compelled respect, but this was something else. Charisma? No, that was close, but not quite the proper word. The word was … ope

Friendship. Now was that not a strange thing to feel for a Western general after so many years? And yet… Yes, “and yet,” indeed.

“Very well … Gerald,” he said.

“I know it’s like pulling teeth, Marshal.” Hatcher’s almost gentle smile robbed his words of any offense. “We’ve been too busy thinking of ways to kill each other for too long for it to be any other way, more’s the pity. Do you know, in a weird sort of way, I’m almost grateful to the Achuultani.”

“Grateful?” Tsien cocked his head for a moment, then nodded. “I see. I had not previously thought of it in that light, Comr—Gerald, but it is a relief to face an alien menace rather than the possibility of blowing up our world ourselves.”

“Exactly.” Hatcher extracted a bottle of brandy and two snifters from a desk drawer. He set them on the blotter and poured, then offered one to his guest and raised his own. “May I say, Marshal Tsien, that it is a greater pleasure than I ever anticipated to have you as an ally?”

“You may.” Tsien allowed a smile to cross his own habitually immobile face. It was hardly proper, but there was no getting around it. For all their differences, he and this American were too much alike to be enemies.

“And, as you would say, Gerald, my name is Tao-ling,” he murmured, and crystal sang gently as their glasses touched.

Out of deference to the still unenhanced Terra-born Council members, Horus had the news footage played directly rather than relayed through his neural feed. Not that it made it any better.

The report ended and the Terran tri-vid unit sank back into the wall amid the silence. The thirty men and women in his conference room looked at one another, but he noted that none of them looked directly at him.

“What I want to know, ladies and gentlemen,” he said finally, his voice shattering the hush, “is how that was allowed to happen?”

One or two Councilors flinched, though he hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t had to. The screams and thunder of automatic weapons as the armored vehicles moved in had made his point for him.

“It was not ‘allowed,’ ” a voice said finally. “It was inevitable.”

Horus’s cocked head encouraged the speaker to continue, and Sophia Pariani leaned forward to meet his eyes. Her Italian accent was more than usually pronounced, but there was no apology in her expression.

“There is no doubt that the situation was clumsily handled, but there will be more ‘situations,’ Governor, and not merely in Africa. Already the world economy has been disrupted by the changes we have effected; as the further and greater changes which lie ahead become evident, more and more of the common men and women of the world will react as those people did.”

“Sophia’s right, Horus.” This time it was Sarhantha, one of his ten fellow survivors from Nergal’s crew. “We ought to’ve seen it coming. In fact, we did; we just didn’t expect it so soon because we’d forgotten how many people are crammed into this world. Hard and fast as we’re working, only a small minority are actively involved in the defense projects or the military. All the majority see is that their governments have been supplanted, their planet is threatened by a menace they don’t truly comprehend and are none too sure they believe in, and their economies are in the process of catastrophic disruption. This particular riot was touched off by a combination of hunger, inflation, and unemployment—regional factors that pre-date our involvement but have grown only worse since we assumed power—and the realization that even those with skilled trades will soon find their skills obsolete.”

“But there’ll be other factors soon enough.” Councilor Abner Johnson spoke with a sharp New England twang despite his matte-black complexion. “People’re people, Governor. The vested interests are going to object—strenuously—once they get reorganized. Their economic and political power’s about to go belly-up, and some of them’re stupid enough to fight. And don’t forget the religious aspect. We’re sitting on a powder keg in Iran and Syria, but we’ve got our own nuts, and you people represent a pretty unappetizing affront to their comfortable little preconceptions.” He smiled humorlessly.

” ‘Mycos? Birhat?’ You don’t really think God created planets with names like that, do you? If you could at least’ve come from a planet named ‘Eden’ it might’ve helped, but as it is—!” Johnson shrugged. “Once they get organized, we’ll have a real lunatic fringe!”

“Comrade Johnson is correct, Comrade Governor.” Commissar Hsu Yin’s oddly British accent was almost musical after Johnson’s twang. “We may debate the causes of Third World poverty—” she eyed her capitalist fellows calmly “—but it exists. Ignorance and fear will be greatest there, violence more quickly acceptable, yet this is only the begi