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.They see us as a threat, Senator, one that they have to squash.There is no hope of peace and freedom, merely the peace of submission – or the grave.”It was a convincing argument, Martin knew.but he'd grown up in the ghetto, where the law of the jungle reigned supreme.Choosing not to fight, when challenged, wasn't an option.It was kill or be killed.and escape was impossible.The Tokomak would mistake an offer of peace for a sign of weakness and move as fast as they could to capitalise on it.They certainly wouldn't believe humanity was offering to talk peace out of strength.But would it convince the others? He watched the live feed as pollsters kept trying to track the ebb and flow of the debate, tuning out the other candidates as he monitored the public reaction.It seemed hard to be sure which way the public would vote; unlike on Earth, where the polls were untrustworthy at best, the Solar Union kept flipping between peace or war.He couldn't help thinking that made their polls so much more reliable, but it was immensely frustrating.By the time the President called for the vote, dozens of politicians had had their say.while thousands of civilians had weighed in on the public networks.Some people were even posting tactical analysis statements, pointing out that the Tokomak outgunned humanity by a million to one.Not everyone agrees, Martin thought.They’d have to concentrate their ships in one place first, before taking the offensive.That would take years.“This is fascinating,” Yolanda muttered to him, on a private messaging channel.“I could lose myself here.”“I think some people do,” Martin said.His nanotech could keep him alive and healthy for years, if necessary.He could easily spend all of his time trying to keep up with discussions on a handful of online forums, if he wanted.But it wouldn't be real.“You’d lose your place on the ship.”“I know,” Yolanda said.“But it might be something to do, later.”Martin swallowed.He honestly hadn't considered that Yolanda would leave the military, one day.She would, of course.She was smart and capable and, once she overcame her confidence problems, could probably find a job anywhere.He, on the other hand, was only good for fighting and fucking, perhaps not in that order.The Marines would be his home until his luck ran out and he died.And he would miss her.He would miss her terribly.“The vote has now been called,” the President said.“Use a registered address to vote; unregistered addresses will simply be discarded.You have ten minutes to make your vote.”Martin nodded to himself as the icon popped up in his implants.It was a simple question, compared to the slips he’d been told about on Earth.A YES was a vote for war; a NO was a vote against war.But it was a false issue, Martin knew, as he cast a vote for YES.They would get the war if they wanted it, if they took the offensive, or not.The Tokomak wouldn’t go away of their own accord.Yolanda squeezed his hand – in real life, or the perceptual reality.He wasn't sure which.“I voted,” she said.“Would it have been better, on Earth, if we had this system?”Martin shrugged.He’d been told, like most of the children raised in the ghetto, that the Evil White Man was bent on keeping the Noble Black Man down.It had been a surprise – although it shouldn't have been – to learn that white children were taught equally unpleasant things about black men, just to keep the fires of racial hatred burning nastily.Divide and rule, Scudder had said, and he’d been right.As long as White and Black hated one another with a passion, there was no hope of unification against the Government.“I don’t know,” he said.The ghetto would have voted for race war, he was sure, and so would most of the whites.There would have been a bloody slaughter.“Maybe it can only work up here, where everyone draws a line between them and the past.”“The voting will close in one minute,” an AI said.“You have one minute to cast your vote or you will be counted as having abstained.”“Should force people to vote,” Yolanda muttered.“It would work.”Martin had his doubts
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