a representative from America.”
“A new ambassador?” I suggested. It was common knowledge that most of the countries of the world had withdrawn their ambassadors and closed their embassies after Tchaka’s speech, but that had been a few months earlier and it was time for them to rethink their positions, as Western governments always did.
“No, a businessman,” said Tchaka.
“Well, at least America has lifted the ban on its citizens visiting us.”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Tchaka in amused tones. “But I have something they want, so they are assiduously looking the other way, and will someday claim that they had no knowledge of this visit or its outcome.”
“And what is the nature of this visit?” I asked.
“Two weeks ago I sold a fifty-year lease on the two largest diamond pipes in Botswana to the Chinese,” he began. “I then leased all the other diamond concessions to England and Brazil.”
“You sold the entire wealth of a nation?” I said, startled. “Why?”
“Leased, not sold,” he corrected me. “And the reason I did is because I needed the money for tomorrow’s dealings with our American visitor.”
“Whatever he’s selling, it must be very expensive, if it’s worth a half-century supply of diamonds from the most diamond-rich country in the world,” I said.
“Oh, it is,” he replied with a smile. “Very expensive. Plundering Botswana’s riches for only a quarter or a third of a century would not have been sufficient.”
I just stared at him, wondering what could possibly cost as much as he seemed willing to pay.
“Well,” he said, clearly enjoying my confusion, “aren’t you going to ask?”
“What are you buying from the American?” I said.
He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a shining model of the latest starfaring military ship, much advanced over the type he’d served on less than a decade ago.
“You’ve bought a starship?” I asked incredulously.
He chuckled in amusement. “For plundering an entire country for half a century? I am a better bargainer than that, my brother.” He paused. “The American is here today, but Hlatshwayo tells me the stars are not yet in the proper alignment. Tomorrow I will meet with him and finalize the purchase of an entire fleet of starships,” he concluded proudly.
“And what of Botswana?” I asked.
“It has been here for a thousand centuries or more,” he replied. “It has lived its life. It is the past.” He pointed a forefinger toward the ceiling, and beyond that, the sky. “The future is out there - a million worlds for the taking.”
“And if someone objects to your just going out and taking them?” I asked.
“That is their choice,” he said with no show of concern. “Mine has already been made.”
At that instant I didn’t know who I felt sorrier for—Botswana or the galaxy.
10.
As Tchaka was building his fleet, two of our colonies—one on Delta Pavonis, one on Cygni 2—came under attack. For weeks we didn’t know who was responsible for it. Then our experts discovered that they were a previously-unknown race from DX Cancri.
Earth mobilized, and soon assembled a fleet of some three thousand ships under the leadership of the brilliant American commander, Dolores Sanchez—and Tchaka announced that South Africa would join the fleet with an independent force of our own.
Word came back quickly. The military thanked Tchaka for his offer, but all ships would be under the command of Admiral Sanchez.
Tchaka’s response was direct and to the point:
I take orders from no one. Do you want us to fight your enemy or don’t you?
From Planetary Command:
These are your enemies too.
And from Tchaka:
They have not harmed South Africa or any of its possessions. We are an independent nation, beholden to no one, and we choose our own enemies. If you want our help, you know our terms.
There was no official reply.
“They want us,” said Tchaka. “They just don’t want to admit it.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“Because if they didn’t need us, they would reject my offer without hesitation.” He smiled. “It is good to know our enemy’s weaknesses.”
“Our enemy is out there,” I said, pointing to the stars.
He sighed and shook his head sadly. “You are so slow to learn, my brother.”
“Learn what?”
“They are all our enemies,” he replied.
“How can you say that?” I said.
“They are not Zulus,” he answered, as if that explained it all.
Over the next month we began testing our new ships and recruiting crews for them. We received no official communication from Earth’s united military command, but word reached us through unofficial channels that when we were ready, they would prefer us to concentrate on Delta Pavonis.
“Of course they would,” said Tchaka with a sardonic smile.
“Why do you say it like that?” asked an aide.
“It’s almost twice as far from Earth as Cygni 2,” he replied. “It will require twice as much fuel, if we run into trouble it will take reinforcements twice as long to come to our aid, and for all we know the main body of the enemy fleet is there. When they evaluate their forces, you may be sure that we are the most expendable.”
“So do we accommodate the military, or do we go to Cygni-2?” asked another aide.
“In either location there will be hundreds, perhaps thousands, of ships from Earth. I have no intention of being a cog in their war machine.” He paused. “Every army and navy must have a supply line. We’ll patrol the least likely route between DX Cancri and Delta Pavonis.”
“The least likely?” asked the aide, frowning in puzzlement.
“If I know the enemy requires supplies, don’t you think Commander Sanchez knows it too, and will patrol all the likely shipping lanes between the planets?”
“If we choose the wrong route, won’t she think we are trying to avoid the battle?”
Tchaka stared at him until he began shifting his weight nervously. “If even you now know that she will patrol the likeliest routes, surely the enemy knows it—and knowing it, will choose the least likely routes, where we will be waiting for them.” He paused. “The government will dispense with your services as of this minute. I will not have anyone demonstrably stupid offering me advice.”
“But—”
“You heard me.”
The aide turned and left.
“I hope there are no more like him,” Tchaka announced to the room. “I think I may kill the next one.”
Nobody laughed.
11.
It was three days later, as Tchaka held a preliminary meeting with his officers, that a Colonel Mbatha tried to kill him.
Mbatha had the computer cast a Tri-D map of the neighboring twenty light-years, perhaps five feet on a side,
