Annales Imperii - I. Ostiia

by Ted Mayes

  She sat staring at him for a long moment. “This is a test, isn't it?” she asked quietly.

  “The emperor didn't mention it, but I think you're right about that. On the other hand, you could say that any decision can be a test of a person's character – some tests are big and some small.”

  “'The emperor didn't mention it'?”

  “Although I would have done it anyway, the emperor specifically directed me to take you with me.”

  She continued looking at him silently. Finally she whispered, “Why are you doing this, taking me outside and telling me about it so far in advance?”

  “I don't know the emperor's motivation, but I guess it isn't all that different than mine. In my life, impulsive decisions have usually been mistakes in one way or another. So, I like to have plenty of time to think about things, to reflect on the possibilities so that my decisions are the best I can make. It's only right to give you the same opportunity.” Amanda remained silent, still staring at him. He bussed his own dishes and got another cup of coffee before returning to the table where she still sat quietly. “If you want to take some time to start doing some thinking, it's okay, but I'd like your opinion on a couple of other matters later this morning.” She gave him a brief, distracted nod and he left for the atrium.

  Sitting down at his desk, he grimaced at the stack of papers that seemed to have appeared overnight. He found himself very glad that the consulship was only a year long, well, a little longer for him, since the emperor wanted the consulships to run during the calendar year. That meant that his would last until Dec. 31, 1994, and he was already looking forward to getting rid of all this paperwork and taking his discharge.

  He began by reviewing the latest report on the 'Letter of Agreement' that the emperor intended for him to sign next week. Colonies to be excavated by the empire, but planned and designed by the respective entities. Colonies to be usually separated by 100-200 miles, communication links to be planned and designed later. Transportation of supplies to be handled by the empire at a cost of 6 pennies a ton. The first colony, just outside of Copernicus, with the possibility of a connection to Capitol, was the international scientific colony under the general control of UNESCO. Other colonies to be started by the US, Russia, China, Japan, Israel, India, Taiwan, and the new European Union, with other countries expressing an interest but no specific plans.

  Michael smiled to himself. He'd be willing to bet that some, if not most, of those 'colonies' were just 'hey-look-at-me-I'm-important' efforts, and had very little thought going into them. He made a note for the Foreign Department to start up a special section in the near future to keep an eye on those colonies to head off any problems for the empire. He picked up a request from Nate Harrison about a topic for the next Imperial Council meeting. It seemed that the deluge of 'outside' space experts was causing some disruption at the university and the emperor wanted advice about possible solutions. Michael made a note to ask Mary Chen whether there should be a special section at Ostia dealing with those scientists.

  A report from the Commerce Department. A third 'commercial' ship had been ordered. It would be named the ISS Czechoslovakia and placed into service as soon as convenient. It would bring the number of daily flights to the moon up to three and the number of tourists (now becoming the bigger number) and immigrants to Capitol to around 1200 a day. A fourth was to be ordered, the ISS Poland, to possibly be used on Mars flights. Continued requests from the world's airlines seeking either the technology to fly to the Moon or a partnership that would allow them access to that market. The list of business representatives who had offered bribes and were therefore summarily expelled from the empire – and the quick improvement in manners that had resulted. A report on the good reception of plastic 'bits' to serve as fractions of nickels – and on the surprisingly good idea to allow them to be offered in different shapes and colors (but the same size) with different 'ads' for businesses on them. Apparently, they were becoming something of a collector's fad.

  Fleet reported that two more squadrons were ready for a trip to Mars, but command arrangements needed to be worked out. A decurion was needed for each ship (now named for cities), a principales for each turma/squadron, and several recommendations for each position was listed. However, the classicula/flotilla needed a centurion (recommendations attached), and that suggested a tribune should be appointed, at least temporarily, to command Mars station. Samuel had attached a note that the emperor had sent over concerning that, and he blinked at the message – so 'everyone' was having a rough spot. At Michael's inquiry, Samuel reported that Jon was at the University but was not in class, so he had Samuel pass on an order to report to the residence ASAP.

  Marine HQ reported an increase in the number of applications for training and suggested a modest increase in the number of recruits in training. Technical training at the University was going well, but there wasn't much room for additional training right now, so a departure from plans for the sake of reactions to unexpected events was highly discouraged. Agriculture reported that lunar crops were doing well and a Farmers Co-op had already been started by the farmers themselves, and that shipments were being handled without any strain.

  A few minor reports occupied him until a noise at the entry made him lift his head and he saw Jon enter and stand at attention before him. It didn't take much of an inspection to see that the young man wasn't very happy. However, he stood at attention stone-faced, quietly waiting for Michael to speak.

  He let him wait for a bit, but Jon had no response. “I'm told that you're having a few relationship problems.”

  “Yes, sir.” There was more quiet and not even a hint of a smile.

  “At ease, Jon. You don't have to say anything, but as someone who's encountered similar situations, you have my sympathy. However, I called you here for a different reason. A situation has developed that requires a temporary assignment for several months. If you are willing to accept this assignment, you would receive a one step permanent promotion, as well as a temporary rank. You would be expected to continue your classes by tele-commuting.”

  “Do you have any idea, sir, how many months is 'several'?”

  “I believe that a maximum of four months is indicated right now.”

  Jon was silent for a bit, thinking things through. Then with a somewhat bitter smile, he said, “It really doesn't matter, anyhow. I took an oath to obey the emperor, without qualifications, not whenever it suited me. So, if the emperor assigns me somewhere, of course, I'll accept.”

  “Then you'll be receiving information about the assignment shortly. You are directed to not discuss the substance of your orders with anyone. Two exceptions – your parents, and, if you wish, you could share general information with Mr. Jordan. The latter so that, if it becomes necessary, he can explain things to Beth.”

  “Understood, sir. Thank you.”

  “One other question for you, Jon. The people tailing Beth in the States were arrested and deported. An official protest was sent to Iraq, and the reply was that the situation would be quickly corrected. Unfortunately, the speculatores tell us that Saddam was upset that they'd been caught, but didn't really plan to stop his sons. So, Uday and Qusay are making new plans. If you had the decision to make, what would you do with the two?”

  The flash of anger on Jon's face was unmistakable. “If I had to make the decision, I'd hand them their heads, and, if the other assignment doesn't interfere, I volunteer to enforce the decision myself.”

  “Unfortunately, the other assignment will probably interfere. The good news is that the emperor and I agree with you. First has everything planned out and you will probably hear about the threat being removed before you leave on assignment. Dismissed.”

  Jon snapped back to attention and saluted. “Thank you again, sir.” Then he turned and left the residence.

  Michael watched him leave and sighed. No wonder clerks were confused by the dynamics of human relationships.

  * * * * *

  Amanda was sh
ivering as the scout transport landed lightly on the top of the Waldorf-Astoria. The last two weeks had passed by much more quickly than she had expected. She'd let her Dad know about the social event and he'd promised to be there to see her. She had spent countless hours thinking about the whole situation, but she was no closer to making a decision than when she'd first gotten the news.

  She had watched Michael closely since he'd first mentioned the trip and was confused by his attitude. He knew how easy it would be for her to 'escape', but he didn't seem to give the possibility a moment's thought. She couldn't decide whether he was sure he could stop her escape no matter where she was, or whether he didn't care if she left or not. That was one of the things that was driving her crazy.

  The other thing that really bothered her was the fact that this was one of the emperor's tests, but she just wasn't sure what exactly the test was, or what was being tested. The emperor had said she would be tested to see if she was 'worthy' of pardon and Latin rights. She'd be free whether she escaped or was pardoned. If she escaped, she probably wouldn't be allowed to return to Ostia, or at least wouldn't want to, but with the whole world to run around in, would she want to return to the empire?

  When she got around to thinking about that question, she had another realization that scared her silly. She'd been arranging papers on Michael's desk one day, sorting them into piles based on importance and whether they needed Michael's decision or not. She had idly thought of the first time she'd gone through papers on his desk and the difference in her situation had suddenly struck her. She was certain she must have turned pale with fright, because she realized that she was now handling information that could only be considered 'secret' or 'top secret.' Economic reports on imperial businesses and finance. Marine and Fleet readiness reports. Intelligence reports that were very detailed about any number of countries, reports that would have utterly horrified the respective governments. Even the after-action report on the 'execution' of the two dictator's sons who had had designs on Beth Jordan, which, if the actual facts of who was responsible got out, would cause so many problems that she wanted to pretend to herself that she'd never seen the report. Why had she been given access to such information? Was it a test? Was it a mark of trust? By the time they landed in New York, she was sure she was more confused than ever.

  They stepped down on the roof and made their way down into the building, Amanda noticing with some amusement that the praetorians guarding them didn't seem to have a bit of trouble with locks or alarms. They descended to the top floor and then took an elevator down to the Grand Ballroom. They had to wait for the second squad of praetorians to join them, but Amanda took the time to smile at Tommy, who looked very frustrated and out-of-place in his dress uniform tux. Michael looked absolutely stunning in his tux, but she looked away quickly because it only made her feel more confused about her situation.

  They entered the ballroom, causing a bit of commotion. Part of the commotion was simply the recognition that the imperial party had arrived, apparently unexpectedly, but a number of men approached James Radebe, the senior praetorian principales, apparently objecting to the praetorian bodyguard. She laughed softly at that. Tommy had made it plain in the ship that the praetorians were staying and any attempt to exclude them would be met with force. James seemed to be making that plain to the men who were clustered around him.

  Then the diplomatic activities began. It wasn't quite a receiving line, but it seemed like every diplomat wanted to talk with Michael for at least a little bit. Some of the Ostia envoys were there, shepherding their UN delegation through the conversations, and Amanda found herself continuously amazed that Michael was doing so well. He was certainly an unusual individual, to have come from such a dismal existence on the streets to a place where the cream of New York society and the UN diplomatic corps, were eager to talk with him.

  Amanda kept busy making small talk with various wives, all of whom seemed to know her articles very well and answering questions from the few reporters who were covering the event. Not that the questions were all that new. Yes, she was technically an imperial slave, and her 'beautiful choker' was the slave collar that indicated her status. Yes, her owner was the consul that they had just met, and he actually was as powerful as people said – at least, everyone in the empire seemed to follow his orders. Yes, she had been to the Moon and walked on the surface. No, the empire wasn't keeping people from traveling there, but there were lots of immigrants moving there and a very long list of people who wanted to travel there. She'd been told that in a few months it would probably be much easier to take a tourist trip to the Moon.

  Yes, she knew the young female Marine personally, but the young woman was adamantly opposed to any further publicity. The veteran 'First' she'd written about? He was standing there behind the consul, keeping a very careful eye on anyone who approached. No, she didn't have a 'clerk', she was a slave. No, she didn't think she'd ever met the emperor, but how could anyone know? The questions grew repetitious, but partway through the evening, there was a pause in the conversations so the 'Letter of Agreement' could be officially signed. Amanda took advantage of the pause to whisper to Tommy that she needed to use the bathroom and he nodded.

  She was washing her hands before returning to the ballroom when she realized that she was really alone. None of the praetorians had followed her. If she wanted to, this was the perfect opportunity to walk right out of the hotel with no one to stop her. The thought, though, didn't give her much pleasure. She left the restroom and was headed back to the ballroom when someone grabbed her from behind and put something over her nose and mouth. She blacked out before she could say or do anything.

  When she came to, apparently a short time later, she was in a moving car, sitting next to a relatively young man. Her hands weren't bound or anything, so she could ask, with what she could only consider amazing calm, “May I ask what is happening?”

  “You're being rescued, Miss Ochs. Your father has some friends who had us get you away from those imperials.”

  “And you're not worried about that?”

  “Nah, Pauli, up there in the front seat is a 'made man,' and no one in New York will bother us.”

  “'Made man'? Belonging to one of the four families?”

  The young man smiled and nodded.

  “Did you realize that I belong to Michael the Bastard?”

  The reaction to her quiet question was extraordinary. The large man on the passenger side of the front seat barked “Pull over” to the driver and spun to face her. “Did you say Michael the Bastard?” he said coldly and calmly.

  “Yes,” she said. “Although I don't know the details, I believe that he was active in the city about twelve years ago?”

  The large man turned back around as the driver pulled over, pulled out a cellphone and quickly dialed a number. A very fast conversation in what she assumed was colloquial Italian took place. At the end of the conversation, the large man ordered the driver to return to the Waldorf quickly. The young man in the back seat started to protest, but was very quickly quieted by a particularly evil look from the large man. Amanda was almost amused. If it weren't for the fact that it would probably lead to the public shedding of blood, it would be interesting to see who could be the most intimidating, the large man or the First Centurion.

  When they arrived back at the Park Avenue entrance to the Waldorf, the large man and the young man both got out. The large man said simply, “If you don't mind, Miss Ochs, we will escort you back upstairs, and express our deepest regrets at this misunderstanding to your … owner.” They entered the lobby, went up to the ballroom and crossed to where Michael was standing.

  He had stopped talking to the diplomat who stood close to him and simply watched as she crossed the ballroom, trailed by the men from the car. There was no expression on Michael's face, and Tommy was doing a great imitation of a hungry cat looking at a fat mouse, but Amanda was pretty sure that there was a smile on her face.

  “I beg your pardon, Consul
Baxter, but … my employer ... was asked to do a small favor for an old friend. He did not realize that this favor involved you and he had no intention of showing any disrespect.”

  Michael nodded gravely, “Please inform Don Joseph” the large man started, “that unintentional mistakes happen all the time, and the speed with which the mistake was corrected proves that no disrespect was involved. Give Don Gravino my thanks for his courtesy, and congratulations on your recent promotion, Mr. Faso.” The large man turned pale, and after glancing at Tommy's hungry look, nodded briefly and turned and left the ballroom.

  Turning to her, Michael asked, “Are you all right, Amanda? Would you like to sit down?”

  “Thank you, Sir, but, no, I'm all right. If you permit it, though, I'll stand back by the praetorians and avoid conversation for a bit.” He nodded and Amanda stepped back out of the flow of conversation. She needed to, because she had a lot to think about.

  She'd had an opportunity to escape even though it was with some of her father's more unsavory friends. Yet, she'd rejected the opportunity with hardly a moment's hesitation. More than that, she had unhesitatingly proclaimed herself Michael's property. And taken a great deal of pride not only in that, but also in how fast Michael's name had changed the situation. But even beyond that, she had been eager to return to the ballroom – no, let's be honest, she told herself, she'd been smiling to return to Michael's side. And if that was the test, had she passed? Boy, did she have a lot to think about.

  So, she stood thinking furiously about what had just taken place. If she was being honest with herself, she'd been treated better, at least as a person, in the empire than anywhere else. Oh, her father's influence and money had earned attention for her, but none of it was for who she was and what she could do. Besides that, what the empire was doing was so much more important than anything else she'd ever been involved with. Starting the colonizing of the solar system! And knowing Michael as well as she did now, she was sure that there were more plans for more colonies, Venus, maybe, and perhaps other stars at some time in the future. Was she more interested in that than in 'high' society? The answer was laughably obvious – of course she was more interested in the empire!