Date Point: 12y11m2w AV
Demeter Way, Folctha, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Martina Kovač
Adam wasn’t even two weeks into his stepdown and he was almost impossible to handle. He’d taken a month “off” on official light duty to prepare for two months of traveling without Crude, HEAT training, or the accompanying mountain of calories, and despite not being on-base for most of the day he was managing to get on everyone’s nerves. He used that light training to remain somewhat active with the HEAT doing last-minute training and hand-off with Butler and obsessively planning everyone’s exercise training regime down to each day’s expected activities. He worried at and tweaked everything repeatedly until at last Rebar had to laughingly order him to “get your massive sit-muscle the fuck offa Sharman!”
Marty had taken leave too. She had just enough saved up to overlap with his mandatory vacation and she was looking forward to two solid months of alone time. Even dead exhausted from a day of training Adam was still a sufficiently energetic and enthusiastic lover to make her forget all about the stresses and headaches of her job, so with lots of rest and relaxation and plenty of practice…
It was the resting and relaxing that were proving to be the impossible parts for Adam. He had so much energy to burn that she simply couldn’t keep up with him anywhere: Not outdoors, not at home, not in the gym…even while watching TV he was bouncing off the walls.
Each day was another drop in his exercise regime and a sharp but not quite equal reduction of food intake, all carefully calculated and timed so he wouldn’t lose an ounce of his hard-earned mass nor any fraction of his strength. They’d even dared to whisper that maybe he could even build up some healthy fat for a change; the Lads in general and the Beef Trio in particular were impressively lean, possibly even too lean for their own good, and that lack of reserves could harm both endurance and recovery, and make them more susceptible to injury. For the purposes of fixing that potential problem, this vacation might be just what the doctor ordered.
There was a question mark hanging over whether his nerves would survive though. The cost he was paying for winding down was an overabundance of unburned energy, and the non-stop doing of his career had entirely robbed Adam of the ability to relax.
Perhaps the most peculiar consequence was that he had suddenly become physically quite vulnerable. He was used to pushing himself literally past his breaking point and had a pain tolerance that verged on the masochistic, but of course part of the wind-down had involved scaling back his doses of Crue-D. For the first time in years, Adam Arés was in danger of doing himself lasting physical harm.
He’d found a kind of succour in meticulously planning his exercise around not hurting himself for a change and so was now down to eating his meals “only” every ninety minutes and spending “only” around five hours a day in the gym. Well above the hardest-training athletes anywhere on Earth, but training had been Adam’s solid foundation for years. Now, he seemed to feel as though that foundation was dissolving into sand and blowing away.
He was not, in short, handling the transition well and it had resulted in a few small fights. Marty was understanding and patient but everybody had their limits.
“You’re trying to overplan everything again and we still don’t know what we’re gonna do!”
“We’ve only got two weeks left! We gotta get tickets, book hotels, I’ve gotta call ahead ‘cuz of the furniture, I need to arrange food delivery—”
“Still?”
He shrugged hugely. “I’m big and I’ve got a fast metabolism. I gotta eat to match.”
“Can’t we just go grocery shopping?”
He raised a big, bushy eyebrow. “What, every day?”
Marty had to admit he had a point and she wasn’t helping matters by getting frustrated with him. After all, she was frustrated for him.
“Okay…fine.” She turned the huge sigh she used to clear her head into a yawn and picked up the tablet with which they were browsing vacation options. “So what do we want to do?”
The yawn wasn’t entirely forced, either—It was getting late in the day and they were expecting Baseball to drop by and help with the planning, but as usual, Adam couldn’t wait.
Adam sighed and shrugged in a mildly defeated sort of way. “I dunno. Vegas?”
“Why?” She grinned slyly, “All you’d do is hit the gym, clean out the buffet, then drag me off to bed!”
Adam chuckled ruefully. “Well, the thought had crossed my mind…”
“And you wouldn’t really be taking a vacation, Hoss. You and I can do that here. Are doing that.”
“That’s what I said!”
“And only that, Adam!” Marty laughed, “There’s more to life than screwing me senseless!”
Adam grinned with that wonderfully smug and possessive grin of his. “I dunno, you weren’t complaining yesterday…all day…all evening…this morning…in fact, it’s getting late…”
He waggled his eyebrows more wildly at each pause, and Marty giggled as his pulled more and more ridiculous expressions. But she would not be distracted. “Down boy! I just said there’s more to life!”
“Aww,” he gri nned sheepishly. “But I’m stinky and I need a shower. You could wash my back!”
Marty rolled her eyes. “You’re always stinky and you wouldn’t let me stop at just your back. But that’s my point, you’re so fixated and intense when you wanna do something, y’know? I’m not complaining but come on! You’ve got an opportunity that most people never get. Take advantage! And besides, Powell more or less had to order you to go have a life, remember?”
“Like he’s one to talk…” Adam rumbled, half-heartedly.
Marty felt an amused smile tug at her mouth there. He was right, Powell was definitely in ‘do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do’ territory there, but that didn’t make what he had said any less true. “Trust his judgement” she instructed, and returned her attention to the question of what they could actually do on vacation. “Uh…we could go hiking?”
“Eh, I looked into it.” Adam had barely sat down, but he was so frenzied for energy to spend that he shot to his feet and returned from the bedroom with a massive glossy trail guide almost before Marty finished noticing that he’d stood up.
He slammed himself heavily back onto the floor with a calamitous thud and an ominous rattle of the coffee table, folded himself into a cross-legged posture—a minor feat of “big man, little space” that never ceased to amaze her even though she knew how hard he worked at his flexibility—and opened the book to somewhere in the middle.
“I really wanted to hike the Appalachian trail!” He said, tapping that page with a brutishly thick finger and a confident grin that said he was in no doubt that he could easily finish it, then deflated slightly. “But, uh, it needs planning. Even if I were gonna just loaf about and do nothing I’m still gonna need, like, at least twenty thousand calories a day to maintain my strength. Same for ‘Base. Hiking for a month? I’d need a helluva lot more and I kinda wanna build up reserves for a change, too. I mean, we’ll see where I’m at the week before we go, but…”
“That’s a lot of food to hike with,” Martina observed. “A lot of weight, even for you.”
“Nah, it wouldn’t be too heavy, not for me, anyway. It’s the bulk that’d be the problem. I mean, we could arrange for somebody to meet us with supplies now and then but that—”
“—wouldn’t exactly be spontaneous,” Marty finished for him.
“You’re the one who wanted spontaneous,” he pointed out, clearly trying and almost succeeding at not being sullen. It was one of his most adorable emotes.
“Because you need it!”
“I know, I know. You’re right. I ain’t fighting you on it, am I?”
Marty scooted over to the edge of the couch and poured herself over it and into his lap, where she was immediately swallowed up in a full-body hug and snuggled like only he could.
“Maybe a little,” she said, running a finger over one of his pectoral muscles. His e-tattoo was set to Green Feet again, and she traced their path with her finger to show there were no hard feelings.
He nuzzled the top of her head. “…Sorry, Marty.”
She nuzzled right back against his absurdly over-muscled bullneck and enjoyed the texture of his beard. She’d never thought she’d enjoy stubble like his, which grew so thick and bristly it often scratched her skin. But like many things Adam there was something oddly and powerfully attractive about his over-the-top body and his happily playful personality. He was a hulking, deadly warrior…and deep down, a gentle and thoughtful man. It was…comforting.
She smiled against a particularly thick cord of his neck and kissed gently. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”
That was probably enough conversation for now, Marty decided. She wriggled into him and settled in for a nice long cuddle that lasted all of maybe three-quarters of a second before a huge fist pounded on the door like a medieval siege engine.
“Yo, ‘Horse! I brought mac and cheese!”
Adam chuckle-sighed and yelled back, “Dude! We’re trying to wind down, remember?”
Burgess let himself in without further prompting. “Man, fuck off! I know your over-muscled ass has room for some of this. ‘Sides, we both need to pack away some carbs!”
Adam snorted, “You just wanna get me all fat so you can beat me one day.”
“Bitch, please! That ain’t happening anytime soon and we both know it. You and Firth can battle it out for King Kong big dicklord or whatever the fuck you motherfuckers do when you’re alone.”
“Mostly we talk about how nice and tight your ass is,” retorted Adam. “And anyway, maybe if you weren’t such a pussy little wimp-ass shit you could catch up to this!”
Adam grinned smugly and flexed a bicep bigger than Marty’s head in his mostly bullshit hyper-macho way of friendly teasing. John grinned in response and flexed back impressively, then set the mac and cheese down in the kitchen. Marty caught a whiff of its aroma as it passed, and as always the word ‘angelic’ sprang to mind, except angels weren’t so tempting.
He returned and gently sat down with an obvious concern for the downstairs neighbors and pressed shoulder-to-shoulder against Adam. They palmed the back of each other’s heads and briefly touched their foreheads together by way of greeting. Sometimes, the Beef Bros were just adorable.
“I’m just gonna assume ‘Horse already planned the whole thing down to the china patterns.”
“Hey!”
“Surprisingly no.” Marty wiggled a bit more deeply into Adam and he bore down with his usual near-crushing affection. “So far we know where we’re not going. Does that count?”
John tilted his head. “What about Vegas?”
“God, you too?” She let out a fond but exasperated laugh, “No! Fuck no!”
‘Base shrugged, undeterred. “Disney World?”
“Neither of you two can fit on the coasters or anything, you’re too big and way too heavy.”
“What about the water rides?”
“Nope, not even those. We asked. We even gave them a video of Adam on the pallet scale.”
“Man!” Base laughed his baritone, full-throated bellow. “I bet that raised some eyebrows!”
“They were really nice, too!” Adam cleared his throat. “But yeah. They couldn’t help.”
‘Base reflected on that. “This whole ‘biggest ever’ thing kinda sucks sometimes, huh?”
All three nodded in agreement.
“Firth’s got it the worst,” said Adam. “He’s so fuckin’ tall and he’s even bigger than you now. I mean, I wouldn’t mind being taller, but…”
‘Base quirked an eyebrow. “Not so damn tall your eyeline’s above the top of a door frame?”
“Heh, yeah. Is that why he ain’t traveling with us? I bet Freya would love the beach!”
“He’s got a campin’ trip planned with Daar, he said.” ‘Base gave a sly litle grin, “Also, I kinda bet he doesn’t wanna shave all that wookie-fur off, either. And he’s white!”
Marty couldn’t let that slide. “Uh, hello?” She waved her hand, “Whitest person in SOR? I’m still going, what’s his excuse?”
“We just went over that,” rumbled ‘Horse happily. “‘Sides, the three of us together’d be a logistical problem, y’know?”
“Well, it’s not all bad, though.” Marty wriggled yet deeper into the depths of Adam’s snuggle-hug.
Adam laughed gently before stiffening as a thought hit him. “Okay! What about a road trip?”
“We don’t have a car, bro. The two of us are so damn heavy we’d straight break a rental. And anyway,” ‘Base gave Adam a sly look, “You gonna tell me your hyperactive midget ass is gonna sit still in some souped-up supertruck for eight hours a day?”
Adam didn’t take the bait. “But we could stop at all the little roadside things, though!”
“Bro, have you ever seen the middle of the US? I mean, what’s a big black motherfucker like me gonna look like at, I dunno, the world’s biggest catfish?”
“You’d see white people,” Marty snarked. “In their natural habitat!”
“Pff, we’ll be fine!” Adam grinned. “Ghetto Fabulous and The Mighty Mexican’ll teach ‘em good!” He put his fists on his hips and posed like a cartoon superhero.
“Damn straight!” ‘Base laughed, “With Albino Mistress backin’ us up!”
“Kids, you’re both big and pretty, okay?” Marty tried to get the discussion going again before the two spiraled back into banter. “Anyway. Back on-topic, I guess hiking is out.”
“The long trails are out, not enough time to prepare. One day…” Adam trailed off wistfully.
“Bummer. Um…so. Theme parks are out. Road trip is out. I mean, what can we do?”
John scratched at his stubble thoughtfully. “Tour a city? Watch baseball games?”
Adam snorted. “Heh, ‘Base wants to watch baseball games. I’m shocked.”
“Fuck you, bro. We could watch other sports…”
“That’s like a three-day weekend, though. It’s not a whole month.”
“Well, why we gotta do the same thing for the whole month?”
“Travel,” intoned Adam. “More planning. And it’s two months, remember?”
“Ah. Okay, so…visit a few cities? Spend a week in each?”
Marty had to admit that the idea had potential, but… “Eh, I bet you two would go stir-crazy really quick. I still think something outdoors sounds the most fun.”
“Outdoor adventures? Okay, where?”
Marty pondered that. “Well, where haven’t you really been? Africa doesn’t count, all you did was jump up and down on some biodrones.”
“Hey! I only landed on the one. The rest of ‘em I serviced all quick and painless.”
“…You did all that damage to your outersuit on just one?”
Both Adam and John paused, looked at each other warily, and Marty kicked herself internally. They’d all crossed a line without realizing it, and she wasn’t sure what to do next or how to step back. There were some things that the Lads—all of them—kept among themselves, and nobody else got into that circle. Not even the technicians who cleaned the suits, repaired the damage and pulled the helmet cam footage. Not even Technical Sergeant Kovač, who oversaw those technicians and thus knew everything.
Maybe it was the fact that they knew just how familiar she was with what they did that had led to the slip: Just for a second Adam had spoken as though she was a Battle Brother even though she wasn’t, and that was a dangerous thing to forget.
Adam hastily changed the subject by counting out places on his huge fingers. “Okay, so… we ain’t been to the good bits of Africa, South America, Australia, most of Asia, the Bahamas—”
Marty was so relieved to have navigated the uncomfortable moment that when he mentioned the Bahamas, she forgot herself entirely and made a loud delighted sound before she could catch herself. Both men chuckled and rolled their eyes.
“Órale, Marty. You’re such a stereotype sometimes!”
“But the beach! All that sun, and palm trees, and I’ll get to wear a…” Her enthusiasm deflated suddenly as her imagination ran on ahead of her mouth and turned up a stumbling block.
Adam didn’t miss it. “What? Are you okay?”
Base, God bless him, spontaneously developed a sense of tact and rose to go heat up the mac and cheese. “I’ll just…start this, and go for a quick walk.”
Adam, as always, was a bit slower on the uptake. “Uh…?”
She patted his arm to plead for patience as ‘Base headed out, and snuggled into him as the door closed. “Yeah. I just had this mental image of me in a bikini. I haven’t worn one since I got the scar and… Adam!”
He had the most direct and wonderful way of getting his point across sometimes. He unwound himself from Marty, wrapped his mitts around her hips and gently lifted and half-turned her enough so that he could bend over, snuffle under her shirt, and plant a fond kiss right at the small of her back where her burn was most prominent. She wriggled in a futile effort to escape.
“You are beautiful, Marty. Every part of you. Especially this.” He walked the kisses up her back. “Other girls would mope about this, but you didn’t. You got better. You’re STRONG.”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna have to wear a one-piece instead and it’s just not the same—”
“Why?”
He sounded so genuinely confused that it actually made her stop and think about what she was saying. “Wh—? I mean…”
“Dude. You got that saving somebody’s life. Ain’t nobody got a story that good. Why hide it? I think it’s beautiful.”
“…You’re thinking like a guy,” she grumbled half-heartedly, though she was glowing on the inside.
As was surprisingly often the case his density served him well. He reacted the wrong way at just the right moment. “Uh…yeah. What else would I do?”
She laughed on the edge of happy tears. “Ugh, you are the only guy in the world who gets to make me feel stupid, you know that?”
Of course, he didn’t know what to say to something like that. He never did. But he knew what to *do*—He wrapped her up just that little bit tighter, held her that little bit closer, and grumbled something indistinct that might have been an apology or might have been reassurance.
John’s sense of timing was its usual impeccable standard, though Marty had no idea if that was deliberate or pure repeated dumb luck on his part. They’d just got comfortable again when he returned with an enormous iron skillet of cornbread. “I forgot I made this, too!”
He brought that to the kitchen and turned it out onto the cutting board, then returned to the living room when Adam and Marty had recovered their dignity.
“So…where are we going?”
Adam looked at Kovač, who nodded. “Definitely the Bahamas.”
Baseball shrugged by way of agreement, prepared some food for everyone, and together the three planned their upcoming vacation over mac and cheese, Adam’s perfectly balanced, nutritionally complete, and frankly incredible gumbo, along with ‘Base’s far less considered but sinfully delicious pan of cornbread. They’d decided to split the difference and spend a week in L.A. while ‘Base visited family. ‘Horse and Marty would hike the surprisingly good city trails and explore, maybe take a trip down to visit the ruins of San Diego, then all three would head to the Bahamas. After that, they’d just, well…make it up as they went. Both had a big savings account and both needed to get out more.
Beach and sand, sun and heat, good food, easy exploring…and maybe, just maybe, Marty could convince the two to mellow out. Well, assuming ‘Base could find a willing date on short notice. She didn’t think he’d have too much trouble.
The evening wrapped up with a solid plan, full bellies, and three happy friends. Marty got a start on reservations and other details while the Beef Bros went downstairs to Beef and Bro with each other for several hours.
She used the time well: chatted with the friendly downstairs neighbors, tidied up, did the dishes, started the laundry, changed the sheets and aired the apartment out before settling in to indulge her secret weakness for awful badly-written supernatural “romance” novels.
Adam returned around about sunset, glowing, thoroughly exercised and still dripping from the gym shower. He’d come thumping up the stairs gross with sweat way too often ready to smother her in moist hugs, and Marty had been forced to make a demand there. It hadn’t been an unreasonable one, she thought. After all, what was the point in having a shower downstairs if it was never used?
“…Adam, you’re soaking wet!”
“What? I showered!”
Marty was suddenly very grateful of that shower rule when she saw the grin on his face and realized that no matter how hard he might have exercised down there, no way had he worked off all his energy.
She sighed, put her tablet down and stood up. “I put the laundry through. Should be a couple dry towels if you want to—”
Apparently he didn’t. There was a rush of warm, wet skin and she found herself pressed firmly against the wall with his lips against hers, his hand lifting her up to eye level by her ass and mauling it possessively, and her heart suddenly beating a hundred and eighty.
He broke contact. “Maybe later.” He rumbled happily while he brushed the back of his finger delicately along her eyebrow, cleaning a stray strand of hair out of the way. “I’m still hungry.” He preempted any protest with another deep, passionate kiss.
By some miracle one of her hands was free enough to splay her fingers across his bulging chest—the other was trapped behind her.
“Goddamn you’re beautiful,” he growled quietly, moving his kiss to the left, just below her ear. Quietly with a crushing squeeze, “Wanna play?”
She must have gasped or something, made some kind of signal because he casually threw her over his shoulder like she was the lightest thing in the world. She was still light-headed from that display of effortless ownership when his muscles bunched under her and she found herself landing backwards on the mattress, which was up to its usual gold standard of comfortable stability. Adam was already kicking his shorts off by the time she got her bearings and the big goof had his trademark lop-sided grin, ready and eager to please.
Not eager enough though—Marty wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d forgotten all pretense, and she knew all his buttons and how to press them. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own shorts and they were gone with a wiggle of her hips and unflinching eye contact, which always got him that little bit more fired up.
That was just the start though: He snatched her T-shirt out of the air when she threw it at him, but she got the throw right and he got the cloth full in the face, and she saw him smell her in the fabric. That goofy puppy grin changed and he blinked at her as she ran her right toe up her left calf.
Perfect. She just needed to goad him with a few choice words. “Well? Did you forget what you’re supposed to do? Get your ass on this bed!”
She couldn’t tell where the bed’s creak ended and his laugh began as he knelt on it, crawled his way slowly up her body, took her wrists and pinned them lightly but inescapably above her head. She couldn’t get away and that was how she liked it, but she played at trying to escape anyway. His tongue in her mouth quickly put an end to that game though and God, the way he could control her with just one hand–!
Then his tongue was gone but his lips brushed her ear instead and his snarl went right through her like the premonition of an orgasm and she was still shivering from it as he sampled her throat, her collarbone, her breast…
All with that incredible weight of him grinding slowly and powerfully against her pelvis, reminding her just how much strength she was being ruled by right now…and how safe she was. When he teased her nipple with his teeth she moaned, loud, and it was way too early for that yet…wasn’t it?
Then he brought his other hand into play, brushing it lovingly down her cheek. Tender, gentle…not what she wanted. She somehow worked her hand loose, took his wrist and guided his massive mitt onto her throat instead.
The last coherent thing she could remember until she woke up late the next morning was the way he got the message, flipped her over, and took hold of her hair.
Everything after that point was exactly what she wanted.
Date Point: 12y11m3w AV
Scotch Creek Extraterrestrial Research Facility, British Columbia, Canada, Earth
General Martin Tremblay
“So it works. As planned, as advertised, whatever you want to call it, the Coltainer system is a success?”
Tremblay had been persuaded against his own doubts when it came to the Von Neumann colonization technology. It was very much his swansong project at this point: The political gears were already grinding feverishly around him, milling through all the possible candidates who might take over as Earth’s second Supreme Allied Commander of Extrasolar Defence.
It was a big name for a big role. Tremblay was proud to have filled it for several years…but there just wasn’t room at the top for a man who was now firmly into his sixties to linger there forever. A smooth transition of leadership was needed, and soon.
He didn’t like it. Patrick Knight didn’t like it either. But the Mission demanded it, so that was that.
“Hell yes, it’s a success.”
Ted Bartlett’s career was one of those turning gears. The crown and maple leaf on his shoulder boards suited him, but Tremblay knew damn well that they felt pretty heavy those first few days after receiving them. Making General Officer was a big step, one that was going to rob Bartlett of the luxury of irreverence that he’d been enjoying for years now.
“And it’ll find new planets.”
“The Misfit exploration team provided the missing link. We got so hyperfocused on building the whole damn probe out of our own technology that we forgot the possibility that the ET archives might contain astrosurvey data we could use.” Bartlett gave him an embarrassed half-smile. “Dumb, in retrospect.”
“The ground survey, the construction…?”
“All solid. We stress-tested the crap out of it on New Enewetak. That thing could build a decent beachhead on the shores of Hell. We’ll keep iterating of course, but right now it looks like the only obstacle is figuring out who gets first dibs.”
Tremblay snorted. “Yeah. Glad I don’t have to handle that negotiation, eh?”
Bartlett laughed, and closed the Coltainer file. “So that’s the latest from Erebor,” he said. “Nadeau says we’re ready to reassign most of the project’s staff. Any preference?”
“First and foremost,” Tremblay said, “I want to retrieve one of those Abrogators from…what did they call it? Akyawentuo. If we can identify and penetrate the Hierarchy lab on that planet, so much the better.”
“We have to be prepared for that thing to have the same kind of demolition contingency as San Diego…” Bartlett pointed out.
“And there’s our project. I want you to figure out how we can stop that from happening again.”
“Long-range ERB suppression? …I don’t see why that shouldn’t be, uh, plausible…” Bartlett mused. “Heck, and the tactical possibilities—”
“Make sure it’s possible, run up a proposal and I’ll rubber-stamp the damn thing no questions asked,” Tremblay promised him. “Because I’ll feel a lot happier about sending good men to hit Hierarchy operations when I know it won’t be a suicide mission.”
Bartlett nodded emphatically. “Yeah. I’ll make that priority one for Erebor.”
“Good,” Tremblay nodded, and sat back with a pleased feeling in his belly. “Meanwhile, I’ll let the GRA know about the Coltainers.” He unlocked his desktop and began drafting a letter.
“It’s about time we got our eggs into some more baskets…”
Date Point: 12y11m3w AV
The White House, Washington DC, USA, Earth
President Arthur Sartori
There was a fine balance to be walked with the media. Previous presidents had been criticized for relying too heavily on the major news stations as a source of information, others had been criticized for ignoring them. Sartori watched them to know what their owners wanted the public to think.
“Breaking news this afternoon, is interstellar colonization about to become an international reality? Allied Extrasolar Command notify the GRA of a new technology that quote: ‘will open up unlimited frontiers,’ but China shoots back saying that the West is showing ‘flagrant disregard’ for interspecies law…”
Which was true, of course. Though Sartori would tie a barbed wire noose around his nuts before admitting it out loud, even in a quiet room all by himself.
Interspecies law, frankly, could go fuck itself. His scientific and military advisors were both saying the exact same thing: So long as Humanity was present on only two planets, it was vulnerable. Getting those eggs spread out into as many baskets as possible wasn’t just a sensible long-term precaution, it was an imminent strategic necessity.
Besides, what were the Dominion going to do about it? Their uneasy cease-fire with the Alliance was holding thanks both to the SOR dropping a Celzi general’s head on somebody’s desk—literally—and thanks to the GRA’s hints that after Ambassador Hussein’s death they were running severely short on patience for the Dominion’s bullshit.
The language had been more diplomatic than that, but that was the thrust of it. Sartori foresaw no meaningful objections from the Interspecies Dominion.
There had been casualties, of course. Several medical companies had sunk large investments into the potential offered by human augmentation, only to run into an impenetrable lack of interest from governments and a burgeoning wall of public suspicion. Several of the more incautiously optimistic ones had done a financial bug-on-a-windshield act.
Which was tough shit, as far as he was concerned. Sartori believed in the free market, and if a bunch of big-spending dreamers with more ambition than Elon Musk hadn’t been cautious enough, that was their problem. America’s economy might have been grinding and groaning under a large and growing war debt, but that was all the more reason not to bail out the failed gamblers.
He allowed himself a bourbon every night. Recently, it had been getting bigger, so thank God the Coltainer program had paid off. By the time the election cycle rolled around in one year, hopefully there would be a colony planet for every G20 nation…And every single one of them was going to need American high-tech industry.
He drained his bourbon and then broke his own rule and allowed himself a celebratory second.
After all…for the first time since he’d taken the oath of office, the future was beginning to look bright.