Let’s be real. Humans could be nice, but sometimes people were more ruthless than starving wolverines. The last of us remained—the mean humans, the tough, desperate and ornery. Many of the survivors had former military training. That was a plus. The minus was that given the chance, most of the survivors would put a gun to my head, if they could, and demand I listen to whatever they ordered.

  So, how did little old me stay in charge long enough to see this through? Once the Lokhars began the surgeries, implanting neuro-fibers, and once troopers received their symbiotic suits, how could I ensure that I remained the commanding officer?

  I mean, why would anyone agree to become suicide troopers in the first place? Why would anyone obey my orders? At the moment, I had the sole warship. That was my only ace card trumping the captains or leaders of the freighters. Each of them, presumably, had their core of followers. Most commanded through terror along mafia or feudalistic lines. Mafia had gunmen, feudal lords had knights: same concept but in different environments. Some of the freighter leaders used religion to enforce their rule, and a few had voted on things. Those were in a minority. My point was that I was dealing with tough guys and gals, who thought and acted upon similar lines as prison cons. The real difference was the freighter leaders were smarter and likely tougher than those losers I’d known in the pen. So, once the Lokhars began giving us warships and setting down automated factories and cleansing the Earth, my ace card would vanish. Heck, I wasn’t sure my ace card would survive a few days of training.

  How could I maintain my advantages? One way, clearly, was by becoming the Lokhars’ butt-boy. I could use their soldiers and ships to make the others obey me. That reminded me of the Spartans back in the day when they had squared off against the Athenians in the Peloponnesian War. In had been a Greek World War fought with hoplites and triremes: spearmen and galleys. In the old days, the Spartans and Athenians had hung together and defeated the Persian invaders. After bitter years of fighting each other in the twenty-seven-year-long Peloponnesian War, the Spartans finally went to the Persian Great King and sought his financial and naval aid. That helped them finally defeat the Athenians. But in a sense then, the Spartans became the Great King’s servants.

  I wasn’t going to do that here. If I couldn’t stay in charge by my own wits, I wasn’t going to call in the Lokhars to bail me out. I wondered if that made me too idealistic for this. I should use whatever I needed to make this work. But everyone has lines they can’t cross. This was mine: end of the debate.

  I’d give humanity a second chance if I could by killing enough Kargs and turning off this Forerunner artifact. Maybe some of you reading this wonder why I accepted such a crappy job.

  I’m not sure why. I think it had something to do with the end of the world, the first time. Seeing those nukes raining down on our cities and the penguins keeling over spitting up black gunk—it did something to me. For one thing, it made me hate aliens with a desperate passion. I’d read a story once where the hero’s heart had turned into a hellish icy hated. Nothing could reach the man anymore, not love, not cold, not disease, not pain, not compassion, nothing. The hatred seethed so deeply that he’d spent twenty long years as an oar slave. It had a been a Crusader vs. Muslim story, with a Turk breaking his word and killing in a nasty way, and later selling the crusader to a bitter life of torment. Well, that oar slave lived, and he found the Turk twenty years later and killed the man at the moment of the warrior’s glory, but that’s another tale. My point was that some of that infernal rage pulsed in me. My heart had frozen with hatred the day the Lokhars killed the Earth.

  Aliens had poked their tentacles into our business and we’d almost died. Now we had a shot again, but another annihilating group of aliens planned extinction of everything this time.

  Did I hate the Kargs? No. They were giving us this chance. But I had to seal that breach before I could deal with the Lokhars and the Jelk how I wanted to. Does that sound egocentric: that I could do those things? Hadn’t Prince Venturi said this was a one-way mission? Well, I didn’t believe in one-way missions. I’d escaped the Jelk, and they had put a mini-bomb in my head. I’d find a way to beat the Kargs, plug the portal between dimensions and return to normal space. Then I’d give the Lokhars and Jelk grief enough so they’d stay away from my planet. I’d give Earth the chance my dad had tried to give me. From all my reading of history, I realized this was my time in the saddle. I had to draw the sword and hold back the raving hordes. I wanted to be like King David of Israel, the giant-killer. I wanted to be like Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest and William Tell, George Washington and the defenders of the Alamo. This was my time, and if I failed, I failed all those heroes of the past.

  Therefore, as I sat at my desk in my room, scratching my fingernails across my scalp, I did some deep thinking. I engaged my wits, so when the time came to swing my fists, I could win.

  Shortly thereafter, I spoke with Ella, Rollo, Dmitri and N7. I explained my ideas, my plan. Then I got on the horn and told the freighter leaders that it was time for a face-to-face, with all of us aboard the battlejumper.

  ***

  Twenty-four hours after my talk with Prince Venturi, I presided over the first grand meeting with humanity’s leaders.

  We were in our old cafeteria: the one Claath had given us when we’d been aboard the battlejumper as his assault troopers. During that bad time, this had been the “beast” area of the ship.

  We used only a small part of it, with the toughest, most cunning people to outlast the disaster.

  Diana the Amazon Queen sat with her chief enforcer, a big black man—six-seven and easily over three hundred pounds—by the name of Demetrius. She was tall with wide hips, large breasts and handsome features. Her thick dark hair hung in a ponytail and she wore combat fatigues. Everyone from the freighters was unarmed, so she didn’t sport a knife as she had the last time we’d met. Diana oozed cunning and sexual power. Demetrius was huge, bald and athletic, with the eyes of a Rottweiler. He may have been SAS at one time. Rex Hodges sat beside Demetrius. As I said earlier, Hodges was a former football tackle for the Dallas Cowboys. Rex used to control the other half of their freighter. He had his own freighter now, but they sat together. It likely meant they had learned to cooperate with each other. Good. Maybe they had taken my words several months ago to heart.

  Several of my troopers stood around the room. Each wore his symbiotic suit, complete with helmet. Many of the people in here dwarfed us in actual size. None was stronger or quicker, though. Jelk science had seen to that.

  The freighter leaders and their bodyguards had been talking among themselves, a buzz of noise. That died down as I entered with Rollo.

  I was the only assault trooper not wearing a battle suit. I did that for a reason. I didn’t think anyone would try to take a shot at me now. Not that any of them were supposed to have a weapon. But let’s face it, throughout history, people have been pretty inventive about sneaking weapons where they weren’t supposed to be.

  I raised my arms. The talking died away until everyone watched me.

  I gave them a quick rundown of the battlejumper-Starkien fight, the dreadnought’s appearance, its admiral’s request and that I’d gone aboard later. Many of them knew all this, but I wanted to begin with a recap.

  Afterward, I gave them the nitty-gritty, the whole story about hyperspace, Forerunner artifacts, the portal planet and Kargs. Naturally, some of the leaders questioned everything or wanted more details. I told them about my deal with Prince Venturi, how we would get hardware, cleansing agents and warships—

  “In exchange for Earth soldiers,” Diana said, interrupting me. “You sold people to the aliens as if they’re a commodity?”

  “Wrong,” I said. “I agreed to an alliance. We’ll supply one hundred thousand commandos, but first we gave them a list of items we want.”

  “You’re turning one hundred thousand people into Hessians,” she said.

  The Hessians had been German troops back in the day that fought for the British. In essence, the Hessians had been mercenaries. They did a lot of dying during America’s Revolutionary War, and they did some killing, too. The Hessian king received money for his soldiers’ service. So in a sense, Diana had a point.

  “Who will you send on this suicide mission?” Murad Bey asked. He was a square-shouldered giant of a man. He was Turkish, with the blackest hair I’d ever seen. He combed it straight back and had a burn scar on his neck. He called himself the sultan of the Freighter Istanbul, by the grace of Allah.

  He’d also cut to an important point rather quickly.

  “One hundred thousand is a large number considering how many people we have left,” I said. “My thought is that some will come from each of your freighters, about twenty-eight thousand people from each. To make this work, the volunteers will all have to be former military.”

  That started a babble of shouting and questions. I let them get it out of their system. Finally, I whistled loudly, cutting through the hubbub.

  “Listen,” I said, “call it what you want. Maybe we are selling the Lokhars one hundred thousand soldiers. I don’t see it that way, but maybe you do. I can’t help that, so I’m not going to sweat it.”

  “No, no,” Murad Bey said. “It matters. No one will willingly go if they believe they’re alien slaves.”

  “Look, I’m no one’s slave,” I said. “You can believe that.”

  “You’re going?” Diana asked.

  Her question surprised me. “Yeah, of course I’m going,” I said. “I’m the leader of the assault troopers. That’s what they’re going to need: someone who has done this before.”

  “You’re willing to submit to slavery?” Diana said.

  “Okay,” I said. “It looks like I failed to make myself clear. We’re going as Earth’s soldiers. Think of it like this. During World War II, the Germans invaded and conquered Poland. Later, many Polish soldiers fought with the British Army, but as Poles, not as Brits. They fought in order to reclaim their national homeland eventually. Well, we’re doing that. We’re getting our homeland now, with hardware to protect it. Then we’re sending off soldiers to fight to keep it free from these Kargs.”

  “If you’re going,” Murad Bey asked in a silky voice, “who will be in charge of Earth during your absence?”

  The attendees glanced at each other as if they were junkyard dogs searching for the pack leader. That hadn’t taken him long, had it? Soon, the talking among them started up again. Like before, I waited. Let them get it out of their system. Finally, the speechmaking died down and one by one, they looked up at me again.

  “That’s the billion dollar question, isn’t it?” I said. “Before I answer it, I first want to make something clear. I’m coming back. Earth’s soldiers are returning.”

  “You said the Lokhar told you it’s a suicide mission,” Diana said.

  “That’s right. He did.”

  She stared into my eyes. Hers were a startling green. “Then you’re not coming back,” she said.

  I broke contact first. A man could drown in eyes like those. “I don’t see why that’s true. If the Forerunner artifact did its trick once, why can’t it do it again in reverse?”

  “If you can think of that,” Diana said, “why didn’t the Lokhar?”

  I shrugged.

  “He must have a good reason for not believing it will work,” she said.

  “People miss the obvious all the time,” I said. “Aliens aren’t any different. The Lokhar prince probably didn’t even think about it.”

  Diana became thoughtful, finally asking, “Do you know how to make the artifact disappear and reappear?”

  “I don’t have a clue. All I know is that I’m not going as a kamikaze. Sure, this is going to be incredibly dangerous. Every space battle I’ve been in so far is. But I made it back before. Why not again?”

  Murad Bey’s face tightened. “Do you intend to rule Earth on your return?”

  “I’m a soldier, a killer. I’m going to do what I do best. I’ve never been a politician. I imagine some of you where though. And if you weren’t politicians before, I’m betting you’re thinking about it now. As I see it, we have two questions, maybe three. The first question is: how do I recruit one hundred thousand soldiers, run them through the surgeries and train them well enough in time to board the dreadnought? Luckily for all of us, I’ve already got the answer.”

  “What is that?” Murad Bey asked.

  I wanted their cooperation. We all had to pull together to make this work. But if we couldn’t make this work, would the Lokhars step in? Yeah, of course they would. Why had Venturi left all those fighters and pinnaces? He wasn’t leaving anything to chance if he didn’t have to.

  “Before I answer that,” I said, “I want to tell you that I’m going to give up some of my power now. I know that’s something each of you treasures. Let’s face it. You’re the meanest, toughest and most ruthless sons and daughters of bitches left to humanity. You’re the cream who has risen to the top in each freighter. I know that, and I respect that. I could try to run things like a king, but I’m not interested. I want to beat the aliens too badly for that. I want to make sure humanity survives. That means I’m going to be too busy training to kill aliens for me to run everything. You’re going to do that for me, or for humanity.”

  Murad Bey’s eyes seemed to darken into jet-black gems. They shined as if wet, moist with ambition, I suppose. “Tell us more,” he purred.

  I gave him a lopsided grin. “Before you start, though, the Lokhars and I are coming to each of your freighters. We’re going to come in force and recruit the candidates. You’re all going to stay here as my guests for the moment. Now I’d rather do this in a friendly fashion with your cooperation, but I didn’t know if I can convince you in time, and that’s something we no longer have enough of.”

  “You’re threatening us?” Diana asked.

  I shook my head. “If it sounds like that, I’m sorry. I don’t mean it that way. I’m trying to give it to you straight. I need soldiers now and I can’t afford anyone trying to stop me.”

  “How does that share power?” she asked.

  “I want you to vote and chose a council of three members,” I said. “Each freighter gets a vote. In the divided freighters, you’ll have to figure out how to agree. If you can’t agree, if one of the divided freighter leaders vetoes things, that freighter gets no vote. The three-member council will work with me at first. After I’m gone, well, you’re on your own then. But you should have warships by then and the first automated factories.”

  “Do you have a constitution written up?” Diana asked.

  I almost laughed, but by pressing my lips together, I strangled the impulse. “It’s not going to be like that yet with written constitutions and all. We’re going to…to figure things out as we go along. Hey, we’re flying by the seat of our pants. The three-person council gives us something to work with. It’s a start.”

  “In other words, you still plan on making all the choices until you leave,” Diana said. “This is simply a way to cover the mailed fist.”

  “Maybe it seems like that to you now. I don’t mean it to be. We’re at war. In the Sigma Draconis system, I fought my way back to the battlejumper. I came back to the solar system and freed you. That means I’m going to make a few critical choices right now. But it’s not going to stay that way. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That’s why we’re setting up a council. Besides, I’ll be going away soon. The council will have the power to run Earth and its new space fleet.”

  “Do you believe the Lokhars will keep their word?” Murad Bey asked.

  “If they want our help, they’d better,” I said.

  “Tell us more about this oracle,” Diana said.

  She was sharp. “I wish I knew more,” I said. “Look, there are a million things we could go over. But we simply don’t have the time. If you’re against this, tell me now.”

  Hard faces stared at me. No one spoke up. I don’t know if they knew a story about Saddam Hussein, but they must have instinctively understood such a thing.

  There had been a time when Saddam Hussein fought a savage war against the Iranians under Ayatollah Khomeini. It had been called the Iran-Iraqi War, and it had been a bloodbath with wave assaults and chemical bombardments. Ayatollah Khomeini said that Iraq had to rid itself of Saddam Hussein for there to be peace. That didn’t have much influence until the Iranians started winning. So Saddam asked his council of ministers if he should pretend to step down from power. One man had the courage to speak up. Saddam smiled and encouraged the man. The minister said, “Let us fool the Iranians, sir. We will put someone else in your place for a time, but it is simply a pretense.”

  “Yes, yes, this is very interesting,” Saddam said. “Come with me and tell me more.”

  The two men walked out of the room. Those in the chamber waited. A single shot rang out shortly, and Saddam returned to the council chamber with a smoking gun. No one else ever agreed that it would be a fine thing to trick the Iranians by pretending Saddam had stepped down from power.

  The freighter leaders must have realized I would kill anyone who outright fought against me. They were right. I would if I believed I had to.

  “Very well,” I said. “You had your chance to disagree with me. Now, in order to let you vote for exactly whom you want to, and for each of you to politic without my interference, my troopers and I are leaving. I’m providing food and there is a restroom past that door over there in back. Yes, there. You will remain here until you’ve made your choices.”

  “Where are you going?” Diana asked.

  “I have tasks to attend to,” I said. “Good luck, by the way. The human race is counting on you.”

  With that, I left, and my troopers left with me. We locked the hatch behind us, leaving the leaders in the cafeteria. I would not let them out until they had chosen three to lead. I suspected that would take some time. During that time, I had to solidify my position in the commando army-to-be.