by P F Walsh
“Uh, Sean, someone’s here.” Doris said while looking behind him.
Sean turned around and there was a man dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt and tie, and shiny black shoes. He was standing comfortably with his right hand in his pants pocket. The man smiled and said,
“Welcome to my ship Sean and Doris from Earth.”
“Mr. Ambassador, good to see you again, you are looking well, it appears the food here in Washington agrees with you.” The President said as the Russian Ambassador Oleshin Nikolaichev was ushered into the Oval Office. The Ambassador smiled and said,
“It isn’t the food Mr. President, it’s the Vodka, it’s surprisingly good.” as he sat down in the chair indicated by the President in front of his desk.
They carried on a genial conversation on mutual matters for a half hour or so, after which the president called for late afternoon refreshments. A steward brought in a rolling tray with several bottles and highball glasses, as well as a bucket of ice. The President got up and prepared to make a drink. He motioned to the Ambassador to join him and select something from the lineup. There were three Vodkas. The President picked up a Bottle of Stoly and a poured a measure into the glass he had stuffed with ice cubes. A dash of tonic water, and he headed back to his desk.
The Ambassador of course, chose the same bottle, and made his drink neat, without ice or mixer. He too, sat back in his chair and sipped his drink.
“Mr. Ambassador, as you know I am always looking to improve business here in the United States. It comes with my job. One of my largest contributors has plans to restart an idled fabric manufacturing plant. I don’t know much about that industry, but he plans to concentrate on some version of linen, which I understand is made from flax?” The President asked. The Ambassador replied,
“Yes, that’s true Mr. President, and my country is a major grower of flax and supplier of such linen, I would be pleased to put your person in touch with the right sources in Russia to arrange a cost-effective supply. When does he need it?”
“I’m not sure about either when, or how much, but it’s a big plant and I suspect quite a lot in fact,” The President reached behind him, and picked up a small plate with a fabric sample from his credenza and passed the plate to the Ambassador. He continued,
“That’s a sample of what he’s looking for, it’s particularly smooth.
The Russian Ambassador picked up the fabric sliding it between his fingers, and even brought it to his nose to see if it had any scent. He put it back on the plate and set in on the desk.
“Mr. President, I am like you, and know very little about fabrics, but there are people back in Russia that are quite expert at all that. If I could take the sample, I am sure they would be pleased to help.” He said.
“No problem there, sir, feel free to take the sample and share it among your resources. The Ambassador picked up the sample and put it in his coat pocket.
“There is one other item we need to cover today.”
The President opened his desk drawer and took out an 8 X 10 photo, backside up. He moved the photo directly in front of the Ambassador and flipped it over. A crystal-clear photo of a blond woman about 30 years old stared back. She was in a Russian GRU uniform.
As the Russian Ambassador was sipping his drink a second time, coyly looking at the photo, The President continued,
“That’s a photo of your operative Svetlana Kuznetsov, you may know her. We believe she used that fabric patch you just put in your pocket to wipe poison on the collar of our Secretary of State. I remind you that is an act of war.” The Russian spewed his drink over the photo and a part of the desk top.
“Don’t worry about ruining the photo Mr. Ambassador, we have more, some in quite compromising positions. Regarding your contact with the fabric sample, you bastard, go back and tell your sick, demented superiors that they have my undivided attention now, and they will not be happy with a long series of retributions I have planned. You and the entire Washington Russian Embassy staff have 24 hours to leave the country, or be arrested and strangely disappear, Russian style. Now get out of my office before you die and mess up my rug.” The President concluded with most of those last words delivered through clenched teeth.
The President had already pressed his call button, and two large Secret Service agents with long white rubber gloves, and medical masks had come in, lifted and frog walked the Ambassador out of the White House to his car.
After the Russian had been escorted out of the White House grounds, two of his staff came in the oval office with huge smiles on their face.
“Mr. President, you scared the shit out of him, he was as white as a sheet as they took him out. He was convinced that patch was real. The rubber gloves were a nice touch, pardon the pun.” one of them said.
“Yeah,” said the President, “I’m sure he thinks it was Polonium-210 the deadly radioactive crap they have used several times before. He thinks he’s as good as dead. And when he gets back to the Embassy and tells them what happened, there will be panic over suspected Polonium, and they may actually shoot him. None of them locally will be sure what poison if any was used, if they even knew the attack was carried out last night. I don’t yet want them to know the Secretary is missing. They’re going to assume he’s dead.” He said.
After a pause, the President continued...
“Best scenario for us is if they handcuff him to a radiator and leave him to ‘die’ as they pull out. Plan to have our people scoop him up after they vacate, with promises of an antidote if he turns. That is, if he isn’t shot dead immediately. Make sure they wear hazmat suits and carry Geiger counters for the nosy press when they go in there. Also, send a Courier over to their Embassy right now with the official order to vacate and leave the country we had prepared. He may be babbling so much he may forget about that. This kind of stuff really pisses me off.”
“Yes sir,” they replied. The two staffers, realizing they were dismissed, left the oval office closing the door behind them and hurried to make it all happen. The President sat down at his desk and pressed his intercom,
“Get me the Chairman JCS and ask him to come over as soon as convenient,” he rattled off to Elizabeth in shotgun fashion, “after that, get the deputy Secretary of State on the phone, we may have to close the Moscow Embassy. Also, I want to talk to Eddie in about an hour.” The President clicked off and cleaned his glasses.
He then went back to the never-ending pile of reports and proposals on his desk. He sipped his drink. “Good Show” he thought, “Good show...., Bastards.”
Chapter Eight
Book One
“You seem surprised, I decided to use a human form to accommodate more comfort in our dialogue. Does this form offend you? I could change it easily. It is merely a hologram. I have no actual physical form, unless you consider the entire ship as being me.” Said the man standing about eight feet away from Sean and Doris.
“Are the food and drink satisfactory?” The man asked.
Sean and Doris both nodded while Sean replied “Yes, very good, thank you, we were both hungry, and the form you are using is entirely satisfactory, no need to adjust it.” The hologram continued,
“In the Earth lunars I have been here in your solar system my Collector, the unit you see as a chrome ball, has been collecting vast amounts of data from your libraries, Universities, medical, and Industrial. Among all that, of course, was choosing the preferred language for communication. It appears that is English, so quite a bit of processing time has been devoted to communication. You are a remarkable species, not unlike our home species but, of course, there are many differences in our cultures and scientific achievements. In the aggregate however, you qualify for member application to the Council of Worlds, and that is why you are here.” He paused for just a moment before continuing.
“The protocol code for selecting a single representative is quite complex and random to an extent, but selection is not reversible once made. I have explained to you that you may refu
se this position, but I am required to remind you that to do so would send me back to the Council without a representative to speak for your planet, and expose your world to be declared an “open” world. At that point there are two courses. The first is, if one of the member worlds offers to sponsor your membership. This is rare, especially if your world contains the mineral resources that yours does. The rest of the worlds would vote it down. The second, is to be offered for Vassal service. A vote will be taken for which world will administer your world’s affairs and population. The proceeds from the wealth gained will be distributed among the World Council Members with an additional distribution for the administrating World. I think you will find the second choice unsatisfactory. But then, I am only an Artificial Intelligence.” The man finished with his arms folded across his chest.
“Why me?” asked Sean.
“Why not? Replied the hologram.
“My program eschews selection of any existing leadership however achieved, in favor of the average resident who will be most impacted by Vassal status. Existing leaders always find those high positions, even under Vassal status, since the administrating World will need local sub-administrators to implement domination and control. They seem always to be self-motivated and rarely altruistic. There may be skills some would have that you do not, statistically that is likely the case, and also likely none will possess greater sincerity, which the Council values.” The man walked over to an empty chair on the other side of the table and stood behind it, with his hands on the top of the chair back, leaning in and waiting.
Sean thought for a moment then asked,
“What are the criteria that would make our world qualify for membership?”
“Ah, that is the prime question, is it not?” Answered the man.
“We will have weeks to discuss that point before we get back to my base at Hhearn, basically, it is whatever of value you could propose that we do not presently have, and that you could provide. It could be anything.”
“That is an unbelievably heavy burden for anyone.” Said Sean.
“Yes, it is, but my examination of your personal history shows you have had command decisions before involving grave responsibility, and you are not entirely inexperienced with this kind of decision making, are you?” Posed the man.
“Hardly this grave.” Said Sean.
“True, but you are chosen, and therefore must decide to accept or send me back with no representation.” Replied the image.
“Which is it?”
“No time to consider?” asked Sean.
“Sorry, the moment is upon us Sean. You’ve had days, you must declare.”
Sean looked at Doris with a pained expression.
“Suck it up Sean, you know you can’t let this go. I’m in with you, if you’ll have me” She said. The man followed up Doris’s comment,
“It would be wise to accept Doris’s offer Sean. There have been instances where the representatives have been assassinated in order to get a vassal status pushed through. She seems quite capable of thwarting such an event.”
Sean was quiet for a full minute then said,
“OK, I’m in, But I require access to all and every type of information in your database pertaining to Hhearn and the Member Worlds. Unrestricted!” declared Sean with a big exhale. Then he thought,
“What have I gotten myself into, and yet I was pining for a mission, just not this big.”
The hologram acknowledged,
“Done. Let it be written to the record.”
He continued,
“You will not only have access to all that I have stored, which is vastly prodigious, but you will have my counsel and assistance if you wish it.”
Sean after a moment’s thought said,
“Done, let it be written to the record.”
The man smiled at Sean’s perception of the order of things, records cannot be changed, that was forbidden. In his statement, he had bound the AI to assist. “Perhaps, this was a fortuitous choice?” the AI thought silently.
“Now that we have the big decision out of the way, there is another matter we must deal with at once.” The man said,
“Please follow me.”
Sean and Doris got up from the table leaving the remains of their meal and drink behind, and followed the Hologram through the same door they entered earlier, to the tram station. There was a car waiting, there was no way to tell if it was the same car, and they boarded. Once again, the car set off following silent instructions presumably from the AI. This time the ride lasted longer by a few minutes, passing by six other stations, and stopped at a station that was colored in a rose hue with a large white stipe all around at about head height.
They went through the exit doors into a complex of rooms and alcoves filled with equipment all on rollers, everything was white except for the machines which were uniformly a putty color.
Sean said to the hologram,
“This looks like a medical facility.”
“It is.” Said the hologram, the voice never came from the hologram, but rather from all directions, but at conversational levels.
“We have an Earth patient here I would like your help with.” The Hologram went to a door and opened it into a patient room. On the bed was lying another human with several medical attachments to his body. He appeared asleep. The hologram approached the bed and said,
“Permit me to explain. As I mentioned, decisions made on representation are irreversible. One of the decisions I have made is a second person who will provide diplomatic interface with whatever choice the Council decides. My program prefers that this be a professional diplomat. It is beneficial for this to be in place beforehand. The prime representative, that’s you Sean, typically would never know this. In this case, my chosen diplomatic person was confronted with an attempted assassination and I was forced to bring him here for medical treatment that your world could not provide to save his life. This is most unusual.” He continued.
“The diplomatic choice does not travel to Hhearn, but is informed of the general events and his possible role in an as yet undecided world status. While he has been sedated for recovery, which is complete, a few of his unknown maladies were repaired. He had a small cancer on his pancreas that we have removed, otherwise, he is now back in good health with the assassination poison all flushed from his systems.”
“Also, while he was sedated, he has been subliminally educated on the general course of events regarding the Council of Worlds and the application process, including your involvement. I thought it would be best if he was awakened with you here, so you could meet and reassure him that he was not dreaming as he recalls what has been transferred into his memories.”
“Do you agree? The hologram asked.
“Yes, of course, that’s good. Can we wake him now?” Asked Sean.
“Yes.” Said the hologram and a light began blinking on the devices attached to his body. The connections began to drop from his arms and legs leaving behind just small red spots where they were formerly attached. The two attached to his neck bulged larger until they were about two inches in diameter, then dropped off. Left behind was a flesh colored lump like a thick bandage. The patient began to stir.
“Wha...What happened?” The patient mumbled.
Sean answered,
“You’ve had a medical event and you are now fully recovered. You will be fine.”
The hologram interrupted,
“Sean, may I introduce you to Mr. John Lewis, Secretary of State of the United States of America.”
“Really?” Said Sean.
“Yes, really, he was my choice for diplomatic follow-up. Overall, a very suitable choice.” Said the hologram.
“Who are all...are you Sean?” Asked the Secretary
“How do I know that? I never met you.”
“Well,” said Sean, “it’s a long story, but you should already know most of it. It’s not a dream, it’s all real.”
The next half hour was spent helping the Secretary co
me out of his sedation and sit up while remembering all that had been induced while he was unconscious.
“So, I was poisoned, by who?” He asked. The hologram answered,
“It was a Russian woman, the one you were talking to near the doors going onto the balcony. She rubbed a very toxic substance onto your coat collar. Once the Collector saw that, I knew I had to bring you up to the ship for treatment.”
“I’m on a ship?” asked the Secretary. Sean answered him,
“Yes, you’re on a starship very far from Earth. I am not exactly sure where we are, but it’s really out there.”
The hologram then said,
“We’re located just behind the body you call Ceres out near the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. Roughly 257 Million of your miles.”
“257 Million miles? That’s not believable” remarked the Secretary.
The hologram said,
“You should be able to get up and walk around now, would all of you like a tour of the ship? There are viewing ports where you can look outside.”
They all agreed and with a little help, the Secretary was eased out of the bed and into some slipper pads. The tour took hours, the ship was enormous. They stopped at every portal and looked out with not much to see but stars and Ceres. The hologram pointed out a spot of light that was Earth. By the end of the tour, the Secretary was convinced it was all real.
“How long have I been gone?” The Secretary asked.
“About three days now,” the AI answered.
“They will be going bonkers back there over my disappearance, in fact they probably have figured out some of what happened, and are pounding on Russia. I need to get back.”
“Yes, you are right, and I can arrange that very quickly. It was never part of the plan to bring you up here anyway, but you would have died.” Said the hologram.