Hero of the Rebellion (2nd Class): Short Story by Trevor Hopkins

"I was a bright and studious young man," he began, "What you might call a nerd, I suppose. My parents still had wealth and connections enough to get me into one of the best universities at a young age, where I did well, very well. Graduated with the highest degree in mathematics and statistics. My abilities had attracted the attentions of several of the professors. I was offered a post-graduate opportunity to study for a doctorate by one prof, although it seems that one of his colleagues had political connections, or at least ambitions, and I was very strongly encouraged, in a way only a Russian can manage, to join the Space Academy. I acted reluctantly at first, although I was secretly delighted. It was an opportunity to actually go into space - which was still rare in those days - even though most of the actual work would be firmly ground-based."

The drinks arrived, the bartender eyeing us both. The Russian and I swallowed the previous shot glasses of ice-cold vodka and slammed the glasses on the bar. The glasses were replaced by full ones and the empties mysteriously vanished.

"It was during this period that the political tensions between the factions now known as the Consolidationalists and the Expansionists deteriorated to the point that discussions broke down entirely, and an off-planet Interim Solar Government was declared. Regarded as rebels and traitors almost immediately, of course."

Russia's official government was immediately aligned with the Consolidationalists, although some prominent industrialists and oligarchs did flee off-planet as the manure got close to hitting the rotating machinery. Russia joined what was, with hindsight, a world government in all but name, as did many of the former United States and most parts of Europe; the Chinese and many countries in Africa and South America maintained a studied neutrality.

"Look, we've both lived through that war, have we not, and it was a difficult time for all," he went on. I nodded silently in response.

"But, for me, it was a time of great intellectual challenges," he went on, "I did not really pay much attention to the politics, back then, having buried myself in the minutiae of intelligence analysis. This did mean that I was one of a great many people, I imagine, who were tasked with reviewing the intelligence acquired by Sandra Lim in that dramatic escape - you'll have seen at least one of the fictionalised versions, of course - which changed the course of the entire war."

At first, this intelligence was held very closely within the inner recesses of various three-letter agencies around the world. Of course, now, everybody in the world has heard of Lim's database of Expansionist locations throughout the solar system: every rock and moon and wandering asteroid was mapped and categorised. It was almost a rallying cry at one point: we know where you're hiding...

"It was the making of my professional career," the big Russian said, signalling the bartender, "So let's celebrate with some caviar!"

These days, of course, caviar is not the eggs of some kind of rare fish, or indeed derived from anything living at all. It is simply the output of a modern cellular food synthesiser, the taste and texture of which is supposed by experts to be the equal of the real thing. The kitchens of the Intercontinental were no doubt fully-staffed and well equipped, and it did manage to produce an excellent facsimile in short order, served with blinis and all the traditional accompaniments including, naturally enough, more vodka.

Part 1

Part 3