Articles: Fiction

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    THE WEIGHT OF PAPER

    states. What changed after 1648, and more decisively in the nineteenth century, was not the practice of private force. It was the normative claim that the state should hold a monopoly on it — a claim never fully realized, but one that became the organizing fiction of the international system. Continue reading

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    THE BRUSSELS GAMBIT

    Somewhere on a tablet in her deputy’s coat pocket, unread until the car, a routine notice was already waiting: a Gulf-registered subsidiary of a Texas-headquartered firm had that afternoon signed a contract to field an autonomous perimeter network for a private consortium operating in the South China Sea. The market, whatever the communiqué said, was not waiting for Brussels to catch up to it. It never had. Continue reading

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    THE ARCHIVE OF LOST MONOPOLIES

    “My grandmother was born in 1998,” Ilse said. “She lived to see the transition. She told me that in her youth, the idea of a private soldier was still slightly scandalous. Mercenaries belonged to failed states and colonial wars. They were ‘dogs of war,’ and the phrase was an insult. By the time she died in 2081, the scandal had inverted. It was the state soldier who seemed anachronistic. Quaint. Inefficient. Why pay for a standing army when the Consortium, or Apex Global, or the Praetorian Cooperative could provide better rates, no pension obligations, and no flag-draped coffins? She said the last time she saw a uniformed national soldier was 2069, at a heritage parade. He looked like a reenactor.” Continue reading

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    THE CONCESSION

    The cheapest, fastest, least politically costly way to do violence — to guard a pipeline, patrol a border, put down a riot, garrison an embassy, run a prison, fly a strike package — was to buy it from someone else, and that someone else had, over a century, gotten very good at selling it. Continue reading

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    THE LECTERN AND THE LEDGER

    “The future you’re describing,” Kessler said, “is one where rich countries fight through proxies, where nobody answerable to a voter ever pulls the trigger, and where peace and war blur together until neither word means anything. The politics of that is the death of oversight. The culture of it is treating an armed guard as a permanent fixture of ordinary life. And the economics of it always, somehow, work out fine for the man standing at this podium.” Continue reading

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    THE LAST HONEST MERCENARY

    The man they had come to hear was already standing at the podium, though no one had announced him. He simply appeared, as he always had—without fanfare, without entourage. Eeben Barlow was seventy-something now, his hair gone the color of gunmetal, his blue eyes still carrying the unsettling directness of a man Continue reading

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    LAST ROUND AT THE HAY-ADAMS

    Diane: “The suit’s a holding company now,” she said, not looking up from the pad. “That’s the difference. A firm like Constellis buys up half the old Blackwater-Xe-Academi lineage and turns it into a portfolio company — logistics here, training there, a maritime security line somewhere else, all under one umbrella so the State Department can write one check and not think too hard about which subsidiary is doing what this week. That’s not Sandline. Sandline was fifty guys and a fax machine. This is private equity.”
    Kate: “Private equity with a security clearance,” Kate said, and finally cracked a small smile.
    Continue reading

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    THE TERMINAL BRIEFING

    ‘Executive Outcomes,’ I said. The name tasted like rust. ‘Sandline. MPRI. Remember when the monsters had names? When you could point to a man in a safari jacket and say, There. That’s the mercenary.’ Continue reading

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    Shadows of the New Feudalism

    This satirical trilogy illustrates the slippery slope from traditional private military contractors to fully autonomous Artificial Military Contractors. It serves as a cautionary tale about regulation, accountability, technology, and the privatization of force in an increasingly fragmented world. Continue reading

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    THE LEDGER DOESN’T BLINK

    Marsh — Inspector General for a reconstruction effort that had, by his own office’s count, misplaced enough cash to run a mid-sized country for a year — had learned not to ask questions in cars. He asked them in rooms, on the record, with a stenographer and a subpoena in his back pocket if it came to that. Cars were for listening. Continue reading

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