Scarcity (Special Forces: FJ One Book 1) by Adam Vance Read Free Book Online

which meant more weight in the pouch, which meant more energy to push the pouch through flashspace, and more time for it to arrive at its destination. That brevity was part of how she’d acquired the nickname “HM.” It was her name clipped to her initials of course, but it also harkened back to Britain’s royals, where HM meant “Her Majesty.”
    EO tran cap 20 - FJ1 2 6C ASAP ASAP - Pig EO 2 Cal
    The first part of the message was surprising. She’d authorized an exorbitant expenditure – a transport ship was en route, capable of carrying up to 20 colonists to Eden One. She wanted to send a message, loud and clear, to every other colony: Not only would the ringleaders be punished, but a significant number of their followers as well.
    But it was the second part that was shocking. He’d never received such an abrupt summons – he and his whole team were to depart Tiamat and return home ASAP. He knew his boss better than anyone, after working with her for sixty years now. And for her to double her “ASAP” for emphasis like that? She wasn’t one to waste a single bit repeating herself.
    He tapped the keys and wrote back. Or El 2d. The lieutenant’s Elevation ceremony was two days out. To just toss him his Captain’s bars now and skip the ceremony wouldn’t give him the status he needed in the role as Ambassador. He pressed Send, transferring the message to the pouch, hovering in orbit above him. A millisecond later, the tiny object would be in flashspace, and would be back on earth in an hour.
    He could have taken a nap while he waited for the reply. He really, really needed another one. But the adrenalert was still pumping through his system, and the last thing he needed to do was take a counteractive and be groggy when HM got back to him.
    He skimmed the bookshelves, and picked up a paperback copy of William Dalrymple’s The Last Mughal . FJ members had a fondness for paper books; paper was a tech that rarely failed. Even the first International Space Station had been supplied with a locker full of paperbacks. Anybody who’d spent six days after an EMP hit, waiting around for a resource ship to bring new tech, had learned to use some of their precious weight allowance on old-school content delivery systems. The paper used to print books these days was Bible-thin, of course, thanks to Scarcity, which helped lighten the load.
    He knew the book well, and its lessons. The British Empire had moved into India with great success, thanks in part to the members who had “gone native,” some of them even marrying the natives and converting to Islam. In the 18 th century, Rome had been Britain’s model, and its appropriation of the wealth of India had allowed the Indians to go on living and worshipping much as they wanted, even keeping their local rulers (ruling in appearance if not in fact).
    Then in the 19 th century, the worst possible thing happened back home – the rise of the Evangelical movement. This meant a sudden influx into India of self-righteous, short-sighted, bigoted and fundamentalist officers, diplomats and, worst of all, missionaries. Suddenly Britain was on the “civilizing mission” previously confined to fanatical Catholic nations like Spain. And civilizing the savages meant “saving their souls” from their heathen religions. The masters of the British Raj began to live apart from the people they governed, creating “Little Britains” where one could go for years with no contact with any natives other than servants.
    When missionaries began converting locals to Christianity, and trumpeting their “victories” over Satan, things began to boil. Then the native soldiers, a cornerstone of the Raj, were issued gun cartridges greased with pig fat – an offense to the Muslims – and cow fat – anathema to Hindus. Since using the cartridges involved biting the ends off, well, that was the last straw, and they revolted.
    The bloody rebellion that followed wrecked the city of Delhi, and killed