Smiling, he keyed his display. “All hands will need to go through debriefing before starting shore leave on Earth,” he said. “Please don’t try to leave before then, as you also need to be briefed on conditions on the planet itself.”
He looked over at Jackson and nodded. “You have the bridge.”
“Aye, sir,” Jackson said. “I have the bridge.”
Kevin stood, walked through the hatch and down towards the teleport chamber. Flying back to Earth had felt quicker than travelling into unknown space, although he knew there was no real difference. Perhaps it was the effort of digging through the vast quantities of data they’d recovered from the alien world. The scientists had barely been seen outside their cabins and research compartments, where they had been working their way through technology the aliens considered primitive and pre-contact humanity would have considered incredibly advanced. In the meantime, Edward Romford and his staff had been working out the details for hiring troops from Earth. They seemed to believe there would be no shortage of volunteers.
He paused outside Carolyn’s door — they’d become closer on the return flight, although he still hadn’t managed to talk her into bed — then shook his head and walked on until he stepped into the teleport chamber. Inside, the teleport operator was already inspecting the system, as if he knew precisely how it worked. Kevin nodded to him, stepped up onto the pad and sent the command directly through the interface. The silver haze rose up around him, then faded away, revealing Shadow Warrior’s teleport bay.
“Steve,” he said. His brother was standing by the hatch, a grim half-smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too,” Steve said. “Quite a bit has happened since you left.”
Kevin eyed him, worriedly, as Steve turned and led the way out of the compartment. His brother looked… tired, as if he had been working far too hard. Normally, Steve was brimming with energy, ready to do whatever he thought he had to do. But now… he was acting as if he had no energy at all. But Steve said nothing more until they were back in his cabin and the hatch was firmly closed.
“Take a beer from the fridge,” he said. “And pass me one while you’re at it.”
Kevin opened the fridge and discovered a handful of bottles of beer, rather than the cans he’d been expecting. Each of the bottles was marked with an image of the moon, etched into the glass, and a name he didn’t recognise.
“They were produced on the moon,” Steve said. “One of the moonshiners I knew from the ranch asked permission to set up a small brewery. I gave it to him and… well, those are the first results.”
“Lunar beer,” Kevin said. He opened his bottle and took a swig. It tasted faintly nutty, but it was better than most of the canned beer he’d drunk in his life. “A very small brewery?”
“For the moment,” Steve said. “He’s actually been talking about expanding his operations and trying to sell lunar beer on Earth.”
“I’m sure it would be a hit,” Kevin said, taking another sip. “Do you get free beer as his patron?”
Steve snorted. “I forgot to write that into the contract,” he said. “All I get is a dollar or two off the price.”
Kevin chuckled, then put the beer down on the table. “All right,” he said. “What’s been happening since I left?”
“I almost destroyed Iran,” Steve confessed. “And Saudi Arabia.”
Kevin stared at him. “What?”
He had no love for either country, although — if pressed — he would have had to admit that he preferred Iran to Saudi Arabia. The Iranians might hate America, but it was a honest hate, while the Saudis were torn between covert hatred and a desperate attempt to maintain the balancing act between the United States and their own religious fundamentalists. He knew just how much Saudi money had gone to support terrorists over the years… and lobbying efforts in Washington. The Jewish lobby was utterly overshadowed by the sheer power of the Arab lobby.
“They kidnapped Mariko,” Steve said, morbidly. “We tracked her down, took her back and dealt with the terrorist filth.”
Kevin held up a hand. “Wait,” he said. “Start at the beginning.”
The story didn’t seem to make much sense at first. According to the Iranian officials who had been captured, they’d worked with Saudi Arabia to counter the introduction of new Galactic technology on Earth. It seemed to make little sense — the Iranians were not given to gambling, no matter how fanatical their regime seemed — but Kevin had a feeling that they knew they were risking substantial unrest in the very near future. And besides, they’d believed they could count on the Saudis and the other Middle Eastern countries to prevent American retaliation. They simply hadn’t taken Steve and his new country seriously.
And the Saudis might have expected them to take the fall, Kevin thought. That would be just what they would consider ideal.
“So they sent kidnappers after Mariko,” Kevin said. They clearly didn’t know Steve very well. He might not have been married to his partner, but she was his wife in all the ways that mattered. Steve would move Heaven and Earth to find her — and he had the technology to take a ghastly revenge for any harm they did to his lover. “And you found them?”
“We had a bit of help from the DHS,” Steve confessed. He looked down at his bottle of beer, then back up at Kevin. “I never thought I would be grateful for the bastards.”
He shrugged. “We found the ship, raided it and took her back,” he added. “And then we kidnapped the governments of all of the involved nations.”
Kevin couldn’t help it. He giggled.
“Funny,” he said. “And what happened to them?”
Steve smiled. “You won’t believe what turned up in the interrogations,” he said. “Quite apart from involvement in international terrorist activity and suchlike, we caught quite a few war criminals the ICC never bothered to charge with any crime. A few of the Iranians were responsible for the violent purge of pro-democracy activists, one of them was responsible for ordering his men to fire into gathered crowds… the Bahraini officials we captured were responsible for selling their country out to the Saudis. Naturally, we put all of the evidence on the internet.”
Kevin smiled back. “And how did you reach people whose opinions actually matter?”
“I think we did just that,” Steve said. “There’s almost no support for them on Earth, apart from a handful of pro forma protests.”
Kevin nodded in understanding. Whatever nations might say in public, it was very rare for dictators or religious theocrats to be held accountable for their crimes. Their subordinates could die like flies, if necessary, but it was rare to go directly after the dictator. Maybe there was some logic to it — the dictator was the only one who could actually surrender — yet it had always struck him as sick. Why kill the men who were forced to stand against American troops or carry out ghastly atrocities when the dictator himself remained immune?
It was the age-old problem, he knew, for anyone serving a dictator. Carry out the dictator’s orders and commit war crimes, wipe out entire villages, kill the men, rape the women and children… or take a suicidal stand against him? The moralists in the West expected the latter, but Steve knew better. Why would a random soldier in the Iraqi Army have refused an order to kill Kurds in job lots when he knew that Saddam would kill him and his entire family, while the West was unlikely to hold him to account? People willing to stand up and say no were very rare. Most of them did it from a safe distance.