by Bob Mauldin
He strode to the door and opened it. “So, you’ve got yourself an admiral, and now you’ve got a security detail to keep you safe at all times. On embassy grounds, you’ll have no fewer than two guards with you. That is paramount, Madam Herald, and you’ll just have to accept these new security guidelines.” The ends of Simon’s mouth turned up in a mirthless grin seen only by the herald. “And the chief of the new Herald Security Detachment is going to be Mike Abernathy,” Simon said, referring to the sergeant who’d arrived at the New Mexico embassy shortly after it opened. “Remember him? I think you’re going to have a very hard time subverting him, Lucy. His job description has him answering to me, not you.” Simon bowed slightly to Lucy and said, “Have a nice day, Madam Herald.”
Pulling the door closed, Simon crossed the outer office, paying no heed to the secretaries or the two guards he left behind.
That conversation in her office only bothered Lucy these days when the consequences impinged on her as they had today, reviving the memories. Scheduled to appear in southern Germany at an automobile factory where the first of a new breed of vehicles was due to “roll off the assembly line,” she boarded the shuttle along with Kitty and ten armed escorts. Ignoring the armed detail as much as possible, she engaged Kitty in small talk until the shuttle was airborne, then closed her eyes and napped until she was awakened by changes in the internal noises of the shuttle as it settled down on a grassy expanse just outside Stuttgart, Germany.
When the herald and her deputy were finally allowed to exit the shuttle, they found themselves on what appeared to be a soccer field, surrounded by about two thousand onlookers, including several camera crews. The babble of sound produced by all those voices began to make itself heard as the shuttle’s systems started shutting down, and Lucy felt a gentle poke in her ribs.
“Wave, Luce. We’re here to put on a show, remember? Let ‘em see the Alliance working hand-in-hand with Earthbound industries for the betterment of mankind.”
“So why wasn’t I at the opening of the plant putting out the first food processors?” Lucy asked petulantly.
“Because,” Kitty said in her third-grade teacher voice, “we decided to put the plant in Afghanistan, remember? Even though they’re happy about the infusion of cash, jobs, and food, there are just too many extremists still running around over there. You know how well the United States is thought of over there after the pounding they took, and we have too many ties to the U.S. Somebody would try to kill you, and that can’t be allowed to happen. So we take our photo ops where we can find ‘em.”
Met at the end of the ramp by the German chancellor’s deputy, the Alliance group was driven to the nearby factory complex where they were invited to freshen up before meeting Daimler-Chrysler’s upper-level management team. Limiting themselves to one ceremonial glass of wine apiece, Lucy and Kitty circulated among the executives, making small talk until the PR people felt that the press and guests had suffered long enough.
Lucy and Kitty were ushered to one side of a low stage at the end of a huge auditorium-style room. Along with about a dozen members of the upper echelon of Daimler-Chrysler and four of the guards assigned to this particular outing, Lucy and Kitty suffered through several speeches extolling the virtues of the newest-production vehicle for model year 2015. The other six guards circulated through the hundreds of people present for the unveiling of the first consumer-oriented vehicle built using the combined technologies of Earth and the Alliance. People moved out of the way as the solemn-faced, black-clad security officers passed by, many warily eyeing the unusual weapons strapped low on their thighs.
The reason for all the attention sat placidly in front of the stage under a red-velvet, gilt-edged cover, and after all the obligatory speeches, it was finally exposed to the general public for the first time. Even Lucy and Kitty, knowing what to expect, felt their breaths catch in their throats. The sleek, ultra-modern shape spoke of speed while standing still, but it was the lack of a heretofore necessary item that caused the crowd to begin to mutter. Letting the vehicle sit flat on the concrete floor for a few seconds longer, the Daimler-Chrysler chairman listened as the crowd’s noises began to grow.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into a microphone produced by an assistant. When the crowd subsided, he smiled and said, “We thought to call our first offering the ‘Jetsonmobile.’” He waited while the uncertain laughter died down. “But some thought it too clumsy, and some thought it too cute. Therefore, we present to you the Daimler-Chrysler Quasar. This vehicle embodies the best of both Earth engineering and Terran Alliance technology blended into a functional and, we hope, pleasing vehicle.”
At this point, the driver, unremarked upon until that moment, chose to bring the automobile’s systems to life. First, a barely perceptible hum penetrated the ears of the audience as the vehicle rose off the ground about sixteen inches. As it settled into its new position, the hum disappeared and the car began to slowly spin clockwise, giving everyone a full view of all sides.
“Powered by sunlight, this revolutionary vehicle is freed from the restraints of both gravity and fossil fuels. Equipped with the latest in proximity-avoidance equipment, one of the benefits of the Quasar is the lessening of the loss of life as the onboard computer reacts to the presence of other vehicles in its vicinity. Internal safety fields, adapted from the force fields supplied by the Alliance, will automatically deploy in the event of an accident, effectively cocooning the passengers and preventing injuries. In the event that the solar charging system fails, a backup system will allow the Quasar to be plugged into household current and run for about a week before needing another charge.”
The chairman continued to talk, but it was mostly to hear himself finish his speech as the driver moved through a preset course around the outer edges of the big room, allowing one and all to see that there were no mirrors, illusions, or hoaxes being perpetrated. The vehicle came to a stop back in front of the stage, and the cameras followed it. Lucy and Kitty endured twenty minutes of questions and answers before being able to make an unannounced departure as attention was diverted back to the new Quasar.
On the trip back to Zurich, Lucy watched Kitty talking with Sarah Parker for ten minutes or so before coming over to sit down at her side. Dropping limply into her seat, Kitty said, “Sarah will release the news about the Montana base while you’re talking with the president. That’ll let her get a short jump on her competition. Here’s what I told her...”
President Drake, nervous at his first meeting with Alliance personnel after the Camp David affair, greeted his guest in the Oval Office, bypassing the usual press conference and photo session. “First, let me say how happy I am to finally meet you, Madam Herald,” the President said. “And let me also say that you are causing our security chief to have fits over the armed guards you insist upon. Protocol dictates that we, that is the United States, are to be responsible for your safety while you’re our guest.”
“I’m no happier than your security chief,” Lucy said sourly. “But I must point out that I’m hampered by the strictures of my office, just as you are. My people are still too close to the loss of three of our own at Camp David at the hands of U.S. troops, not to mention the injuries sustained by Admiral Hawke, as well as the attempt to shanghai him. If we hadn’t received warning, there’s no telling where he’d be right now. So, I’m accompanied by armed guards.” Lucy held her hands out, palms up, indicating resignation. “I realize Camp David is still a sore spot with both our groups, but it needs to be out in the open.”
Drake nodded. “Sore to a lot of Americans, most of whom blame me for the disaster, Madam Herald. I was actually surprised to find out that I’d won the election. But what’s past, is past.” He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s not meant to diminish the death of the vice-president or any of the others lost that day. Their efforts to form a union with your Alliance were only in the beginning stages, and I want to make sure that they didn’t die in vain. So. Let’s ch
ange the subject. I’m given to understand that you want to negotiate for a different base on U.S. soil?”
Lucy smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘negotiate,’ Mr. President. Actually, this is a courtesy call to inform you of something so you don’t get caught with your pants down.” A single raised eyebrow and a slight nod filled the moment of silence. “I’m sure you’re kept apprised of just about everything the Alliance does, Mr. President, so it should be no surprise to you to find out that we’ve bought several thousand acres of land in Montana. What we plan to do is move our embassy there as soon as we can build a new facility, one more appropriate to our needs. We’ll use the Galileo and her factories to manufacture whatever equipment we can’t hire from on-planet to construct a training facility for our new citizens. But this facility won’t serve that purpose for very long. As you probably know, since we’ve made no secret of it, we’ve hollowed out the asteroid Vesta and are in the process of fitting it out as a permanent headquarters facility. All of our administrative staff will be moved there, and the training of new personnel will be conducted there as well. This will leave the three embassies here as recruitment, pre-space training, and spaceports.”
The president leaned back in his chair and looked closely at Lucy. “And tell me, Madam Herald, how do you see that affecting the economy of the U.S.? Not to mention other economies around the world,” he added hurriedly.
Lucy smiled. “That’s the beauty of it, Mr. President. The Alliance Embassy in Zurich will be our Earth-side headquarters, shipping recruits to our embassy in Montana, which will also be accepting recruits from the Americas, and Alliance Embassy Asia will be our financial center, as it were, sending recruits here as well. The recruits will be quartered in Montana and receive their initial pre-space orientation and training. From there, they’ll be moved onto ships, to Vesta, or the space docks as personnel requirements dictate. The U.S. will get a small boost because there will be more people here, but it will mostly affect New Mexico and Montana—a loss of income for New Mexico and a gain for Montana. And whatever monies we have will still be rooted in Earth’s economies. Mostly, they’ll stay in banks and be used to purchase luxury items we don’t care to manufacture, which will put the money back into circulation. And pay salaries to our citizens, which will also go back into circulation as Alliance citizens come home for vacations or to retire. As for the rest of the world, they’ll fall in line or get left behind.”
President Drake, obviously not pleased with the direction the meeting had gone, glanced at his watch and stood up, saying, “We really should be leaving if we’re going to make the press conference on time.”
As he led her out of the Oval Office and down the corridor to the conference room, he said, “We’ve studied you, you know, Madam Herald, everything we could find, and nothing in any of it would lead someone to think that you’d turn on your country like this.”
Lucy stopped so quickly that the Secret Service agent following her almost ran her down. Her own security detail had trouble keeping their hands off their guns, but one managed to insert herself between Lucy and the errant agent.
“Mr. President,” she said to his retreating back, her voice replete with venom, “did any of the information you managed to dig up on me happen to include my grades?”
The leader of the free world, noticeably greyer than when he’d begun his term, stopped and turned, surprise at the distance between the two leaders showing on his face. “Why, yes, Madam Herald, I believe it did. Public knowledge, you know.”
“Public knowledge be damned, Mr. President,” Lucy said, sparks flying from her eyes. “If the knowledge had been confidential, you’d have gotten it anyway. So don’t go getting all holier than thou on me.”
Set back by the verbal assault in the middle of his own sanctum, the president could only respond, “Why do you ask?”
“Because,” she answered, walking toward him, “if you’d really looked at my records, you’d have seen that I got straight As in history, sir. And I find it totally hilarious that the leader of a country that got its own freedom by refusing to obey constituted authority would have the nerve to say what you just did.” Pausing when she drew even with the president, Lucy said, “Face it, Mr. President, we’re never going to be each other’s greatest fans. But we do have to work together upon occasion, so let’s just smile and say nice things for the next few minutes, shall we?”
Simon, Kitty, and Gayle stood on a small bluff overlooking the site of the new Alliance Embassy about an hour’s drive east of Helena. Casting a critical eye over the area, Simon said, “It’s not on high ground, but it is a defensible location.”
Kitty looked up at her husband. “Defensible from whom, dear? If Lucy and I have done our jobs, we won’t need to defend against anyone here on Earth except the occasional psycho. And if aliens get this far, then we’re screwed anyway.”
“You do have a way of putting thing into perspective, hon,” Simon said, a slight smile passing across his face.
The three friends watched the activity as transports arrived with raw materials destined to be dumped into the converter copied on a smaller scale from the big one aboard the Galileo. They followed the process as the converter passed its output to the extruders where transports waited to move a finished product to a building site. There, grapplers would move a prefabricated section into place while other machines welded, nailed, or otherwise attached each new part to the whole. Five other similar sites were under construction in the same area, to be covered by walkways, eventually forming the headquarters. Housing was being constructed to one side of the area for the personnel expected to be living there while awaiting assignment, and other structures were being laid out. A small town was planned, to include training facilities, mess halls, recreation areas, and entertainment facilities. Already, the smooth, flowing lines that had been envisioned were beginning to show as the main buildings went up. In the distance, the world’s third antimatter power generation plant was being constructed to handle the requirements of the community, as well as the generators that would power the defense shields.
“Strange how it is that the three of us are here together after all this time,” Simon mused aloud. The inspection of ground-side facilities wasn’t on his mind, and only the insistence of Kitty made him show his face at this semi-event. He’d felt that his time would be better spent keeping tabs on the ever-growing fleet of ships flying the Alliance banner, but the women had other ideas.
“Right back where we started,” Kitty noted. “This isn’t far from where the first shuttle landed. Hey! Do you guys know that you… we,” Kitty said, waving her hands expansively, “have become folk heroes or legends or something? You should hear how the ‘Firsters’ are talked about by the new recruits, and how we are regarded! And that includes the general public, too,” she added, her circling finger indicating the three of them. “There are a bunch of folks who haven’t seen much of the famous Simon Hawke yet, and you need to make your presence known to all, Admiral.” Her bantering tone took much of the sting out of her comment.
“Not to mention the Deputy Herald and the famous Captain Miller,” Simon added.
“Don’t call me famous, Simon,” Gayle protested bitterly. “I got over three hundred of my crew killed. I shouldn’t even be here.”
Kitty stopped in front of the huge windows that looked out of what was going to be one of the cafeterias. Simon and Gayle stopped as well and glanced at each other behind Kitty’s back. Staring at the valley below, Kitty raised her voice to be heard by her companions. “I want you to tell me with certainty that someone else would have done a better job, Gayle. And I want you to tell me that you wouldn’t do the same thing again. Who would you wish this experience off on?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to have to live with what I do, Kitty. You know that!” Gayle protested. She stood frozen for several seconds, trying to find some way to answer the demand her friend had made. “I can’t tell you that, and yo
u know it.” The agony was evident in her voice. “Why are you torturing me? We’re supposed to be friends.”
“We are friends, Gayle,” Kitty said, turning and hugging her long-time pal. “That’s why I said what I did. You did as good a job as anyone else could possibly have done. Remember, we’re learning as we go along. The technology just bit us again, that’s all. Sure, a lot of people died. You were almost one of ‘em, you know. And it’s really shitty about what happened to Stephen, but we can’t just stop because of it. We’re in way too deep now, and we need all our people at their best. We need you back, Gayle. I hate to ask, but you’ve managed to heal pretty well physically. It’s time to get back on the horse. I know it hurts, but you need to do it. We’ve got another ship arriving in Earth orbit in a couple more months. That’ll give you some time to think it over.”
Letting that particular conversation drop, Kitty finished touring the new facilities, followed by Simon, Gayle, and the ever-present gaggle of armed guards.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Torlan Garpal stared at the communications console for several seconds before the full implication of what he was hearing hit him. When the shock wore off, he hit the emergency call to the commander of the small Korvil fleet. Within minutes the summoned individual entered the bridge. Taller than most Korvil, Fleet Lord Formug Gavrit, second cousin to The Korvil himself, ducked his massive head as he strode into the confined space. Having worked with this team for almost two cycles now, he knew this would be no false alarm. “Report, Communications Second.”
