Free Shaka II by Mike Resnick

inevitable.”
        “They may appropriate our African possessions,” I pointed out.
        “Only the countries we assimilated,” he replied with an unconcerned shrug. “Besides, we are never going back.”
        I could see that at least half the room wanted to suggest that a confrontation was not inevitable, that we could avoid it simply by giving up our claim to Lincoln, but no one dared to be the first to point it out.
        Finally Tchaka spoke again.
        “Have Colonel Khuzwayo contact Earth in his capacity as Governor of Lincoln and tell them that their help is neither needed nor wanted.”
        “Yes, sir,” said a military aide.
        “Earth will ignore that, of course. Then we will contact them and explain that the government of Lincoln has asked for our protection against the unwanted attentions of United Earth, and we have agreed to give it to them.”
        As far as I could see it came to the same thing. Oh, if there’d been such a thing as a galactic court or tribunal, he could have argued that the acting government had indeed asked for his help-but we were centuries, probably millennia from galactic governments and courts. In galactic terms, we’d barely taken two steps out into our front yard.
        Two hours later Colonel Khuzwayo sent the message Tchaka wanted, and that evening we received another message from Earth, threatening to send a massive fleet should the situation remain unchanged.
        Tchaka warned them not to carry through with their threat, that there would be serious consequences and he would not take responsibility for them.
        And that’s the way it stood when a nondescript man named Dhanko Shange managed to get past Tchaka’s security and bury his knife in the monarch’s ribcage. It was Nandi who actually saved him, raking Shange’s face with claws I didn’t even know she possessed and emitting a piercing scream that brought help on the run.
        They killed Shange on the spot and rushed Tchaka to the hospital, while he complained all the way, not of his pain, but rather that they hadn’t left Shange alive so he could be impaled and left on public display for his crime. There was no serious internal damage, and Tchaka was released two days later. His first official act was to name Nandi the Governor of Cetshwayo. Everyone thought it was crazy; no one dared say a word in protest.
        Three days later we got word that a massive fleet had taken off from Earth and was headed in the direction of the Zulu Empire.
        “They are fools,” said Tchaka. “They think I am bluffing. They will learn that I never bluff.”
        Ten minutes later he ordered Colonel Khuzwayo to evacuate all military personnel from Lincoln. When Khuzwayo reported two hours later that it had been accomplished, he gave orders to destroy the planet.
        “Do you mean to destroy all human life on it?” came the message from Khuzwayo.
        “Blow it up,” answered Tchaka. “The bigger the explosion, the better.”
        I could see the same thought reflected on every face in the room: Now he’s done it! Earth will have to avenge this. We are all walking dead men.
        And finally a few of them, convinced that their doom was imminent, found their voices.
        “They have to have seen that,” said one aide.
        “I certainly hope so,” said Tchaka.
        “Earth will kill us now.”
        “Earth will leave us alone now,” said Tchaka easily.
        “After what we did?” said another man incredulously.
        “I have sent a private communication to the President of United Earth, with a copy to the commander of the approaching fleet.”
        All eyes turned to him.
        “The gist of it is that we have twenty-four more former colonies,” said Tchaka, “and I will destroy one for every light-year closer they approach. Lincoln was merely a demonstration.”
        And even as the words left