by Bob Mauldin
Later, Lucy wouldn’t be able to place name or title to any face she met in that line, with the exception of the last two. Baron and Baroness von Schlenker were dressed to match the room in which they stood. Louis XIV never dressed as well. The matching ermine-trimmed half-capes of the baronial couple were royal purple, and the clothing, while of the finest material, was cut in the style of the fourteenth century.
The baron was a huge bear of a man. Mutton-chop sideburns and a goatee stopped just short of being a full beard. A heavy gold chain with an equally heavy gold pendant hung from his neck, while every finger sported a ring with a different stone. Speaking a word or two to each of the apparent half-dozen children of the baron had given her enough practice that by the time she reached the man himself, and she was able to get through the ritual without stumbling.
“Lucille Grimes, First Captain of the Terran Alliance,” she said, holding out her hand.
Rather than shaking her hand, the Baron took it in both of his and, raising it to his lips, kissed it. “I am Baron Manfred von Schlenker. And I am in your debt. To have three such beauteous women as yourselves grace my home is indeed an honor.” In a stage whisper, he continued, “And it doesn’t hurt that this is the first public appearance of the Alliance Commander. It is certainly the social coup of the century. Now, if you will forgive me, I have a few more guests to greet. Make yourselves welcome. I will come rescue you shortly, after some of these people have decided that you are real and don’t bite.”
Taking a risk, Lucy asked, “Who said I don’t bite?” and got a muffled laugh in return.
As Lucy moved uncertainly away from the baron, nervously eyeing the people who were blatantly staring at her, she was intercepted by a waiter.
“Libation, Madam?” he asked.
Lucy started to reach for one of the delicate crystal flutes, but remembering Heinrich’s admonition, said, “Not just yet, thank you.”
The waiter stepped ever so slightly into her path and lowered his voice. “Perhaps Madam would be more amenable to ginger ale? It also gives one something to do with one’s hands.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said. “Um, could you see to it that my friends are served the same? I would be most grateful.”
“It would be my great pleasure, madam,” the waiter said, turning the tray half-way around. Several glasses stood apart from the others on the tray. Lucy selected one and took an experimental sip. The waiter gave a small bow and turned away.
She turned around to examine the hall and the guests resplendent in their finery, coming face-to-face with an older lady dressed in a tweed suit and wearing enough pearls and diamonds to buy half of Cincinnati.
“Haw! First to meet ‘cha, don’t ya know!”
“Well, if that’s supposed to be a feather in your cap, then congratulations. I’m Lucy Grimes, and you are...?”
“An American! I’d hoped that with the name ‘Grimes’ you might be a subject of the Queen. No matter. I’m Lady Olivia Harrington-Smythe.” At the silence that met her pronouncement, she went on. “Wife of Sir Jonathan Harrington-Smythe, British Ambassador to the United Nations.”
“I don’t have time to keep up with politics, Mrs. Harrington-Smythe, so I apologize for not knowing who you are, but pleased to meet you nevertheless.”
“That would be ‘Lady’ not ‘Mrs.,’” the old woman corrected. “And since our dear friend the baron has conferred the title of ‘Lady’ on you, you’d be wise to use it at every occasion. Now, you simply must meet Birdie.”
“Uh, Birdie?”
“My husband. Jonathan Birdwell Harrington-Smythe.”
The next half hour was a blur to Lucy as she was towed from one small conversational group to another by the indomitable Lady Olivia, her guards never too close or too far away. She caught occasional glimpses of the other three members of her party, and each one was always surrounded by a wall of interested listeners. Her guards, on the other hand, seemed to have a no man’s land around each of them as they jockeyed to keep her and the others in sight. Stephen and Gayle, never far from each other these days, were very animatedly explaining something to the group surrounding them, while Marsha was making motions with her hands that could only have something to do with piloting a Mamba.
Lucy took her fourth glass of ginger ale off a passing tray and turned back to another in a long series of banal discussions with woefully uninformed women and silently prayed, Help me to endure, please!
“It must be oh so exciting,” one woman, a little younger than the rest, exclaimed, “to be flitting around outer space without the constraints of gravity.”
Once again, Lucy had to disabuse someone of their notions. “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, but we do have artificial gravity on all our major ships. Only the fighters don’t have it because of their size. Walking around in our spaceships is just like walking around in this room. And I don’t get to do much ‘flitting.’ I spend much of my day in a dreary office without even a window to break the monotony, signing forms and pushing papers from one stack to another. I think I’ll have to do something about that window though.” While not quite literally true, Lucy’s explanation had portrayed a fairly accurate description of what her days were like now.
Finally, salvation appeared in the form of Baron von Schlenker himself. The portly man in the purple cape inserted himself into the small group around Lucy and exclaimed, “Ladies, ladies! My deepest apologies for this interruption, but I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in my duties as host, and I find that I must now spirit the good captain away from you.” He lightly placed a hand on Lucy’s elbow and said, “Lady Olivia, as always, it is a pleasure to have you in my home. I regret that we didn’t get to speak more. Perhaps next time.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Freddie, I will. And you owe me for keeping her away from the riffraff.”
“I owe you nothing for that, Olivia. You took that chore upon yourself, and gladly, from what I could see. Now, I’m afraid the captain and I must go.”
“You’ll wait a moment more, Freddie,” Olivia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Lady Lucille, it has been my great pleasure to spend this last half hour with you. And I’m sure Birdie will agree with me when I say that if you’re ever in England, you’ll be welcome in our home—a delightful country estate. Not the dank and dreary pile of stone this is. Now, you go with the baron and relax. He’s been declawed, and I promise you that if he does anything more than ogle your cleavage, his wife will hand him his head on a platter!”
Lady Olivia’s laughter diminished as the Harrington-Smythe ship of state slowly made its way through the huge room, and Lucy turned back to the Baron. “There goes an amazing woman,” she said.
“She’s a tough old bird,” the baron said. “And sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but she knows her politics, and she has Lord Harrington-Smythe’s ear. If she likes you, you’ve arrived.”
The baron had begun to steer her across the crowded floor when she noticed she hadn’t seen any of her party for the last little while. “Where are...”
“They’re perfectly safe, my dear. I’m sure one of your security persons would have informed you if there was a problem. They’ve been hovering over the five of you so much that half the people here are calling them ‘angels of death.’ They’re waiting for you in my study, along with several others who are anxious to make your acquaintance in more than just a social setting. So,” he asked conversationally, “what did you think of Lady Olivia?”
“Well, I’ve already said she’s an amazing woman. Surprisingly, I think I like her. And I think she fancies some distant relationship between us.”
“Really?” the baron said incredulously. “Normally, she won’t even recognize her own kin. How is that possible?”
“She heard my name was Grimes, which apparently isn’t an uncommon name in Great Britain, I’m led to believe. But it just happens to be her great-great grandfather’s name. That particular Grimes on her family tree appare
ntly had a rather checkered past and disappeared not long after fathering her great-grandfather. Her oral family history has him being killed by someone or other for his misdeeds, but oddly enough, we Grimes’ trace our heritage back to North Carolina at about the same time her ancestor disappeared. Our family history says he was hung as a horse thief. Coincidence, I’m sure, but they both have the first name of John. It would be interesting to be related to royalty, but the chances aren’t good.”
“You would only be related by marriage anyway, Captain. Lady Olivia, for all her pearls and diamonds, was a barmaid back in the 1940s when she met and married a young RAF pilot who’d had the great good fortune to survive the war. He came home, and on his father’s death, ascended to the title of Lord Harrington-Smythe, Baron of Dunsmere. For many years, he was an influential member of the House of Parliament. Those years of selfless public service got him knighted to Lord and earned him the post of ambassadorship to the United Nations.”
As the baron finished the recital of the life of Harrington-Smythe, they reached a small door artfully hidden by some potted plants and a suit of armor. The baron opened the door, and said, “My private study,” ushering her in ahead of him with a slight bow.
Lucy stood and took in the whole room. The size of it was impressive. Oak beams crossed the ceiling some twenty feet up, barely visible in the dim light thrown by several strategically placed lamps in various nooks. The walls were lined with books, some of which had to be hundreds of years old. One wall had a fireplace big enough that it could be used to roast whole pigs, large ones. Above the mantle were two crossed pikes with pennants hanging from them, and as an integral part of the setting, a shield was hung in the upper portion of the “x” formed by the pikes.
The furniture was overstuffed, dark-leather couches and chairs that a person could sink into, accompanied by massive oak coffee tables and end tables, waxed to a glossy sheen and seeming to make the room seem a bit smaller by their sheer presence. And all of this was set off by Persian rugs scattered over the floor, their light color and sometimes whimsical designs serving to, somehow, tie the room into an aesthetically pleasing whole.
Four men sitting in the area fronting the unlit fireplace rose as one when Lucy entered the room. No one spoke until she’d finished her examination of the room.
As Lucy turned her attention to the four men, the baron swept past her and announced, “Gentlemen, I have managed to rescue our guest of honor from the clutches of the evil Lady Olivia.” The good-natured laughter that followed this declaration only served to assure Lucy that she was skirting the edges of an inside joke. “Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Lady Lucille Grimes, First Captain of the Terran Alliance. Her companions you have already met.”
Indicating each man in turn, the baron began introducing the strangers. “Lady Lucille, please allow me to introduce Ambassador Miyagishima of Japan, Ambassador William Hargrove of the United States, and Ambassador Hans Rennert of Switzerland. With us also is Lt. General James Crenshaw, who is the American President’s adviser on matters... shall we say extraplanetary. And at the back of the room, speaking with your Commander Walker, is Colonel Jason Deering, United States Army. He belongs to one of your special intelligence services, I believe.”
Lucy shook each man’s hand as she was introduced but gave the colonel only a nod of her head since she was too far to shake hands. Which suits me just fine. From the look on Stephen’s face, I don’t have enough disinfectant to get my hand clean with anyway.
Lucy sat down facing the four men. She glanced first at the glass the baron set down beside her and then up at the baron.
“Any good host,” he said haughtily, “keeps track of his guests. Ginger ale, Captain,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you, Baron,” she said, “but now that it’s time to talk business, I’d like to get a good scotch under my belt.” Turning to the four men now seated across from her, she inquired, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting, gentlemen?”
The Japanese ambassador spoke first. “I admit to being at a loss. I was under the impression that your title was ‘First Captain,’ but I have heard the Baron refer to you as ‘Lady’ on several occasions, denoting royalty. Before we progress further, how do you wish to be addressed?”
Lucy smiled, the first real one since she’d arrived. “The ‘Lady’ part is a fabrication on the baron’s part, I’m afraid. My rank is first captain, but ‘captain’ will suffice, Mr. Ambassador.”
“Very well, Captain.” The ambassador leaned forward and laid a rolled-up parchment scroll on the table between them. It turned slightly until it was stopped by the knot in the red ribbon tying it closed. “My government has instructed me to offer you the use of some two hundred acres of land about twenty miles from Tokyo with ocean access. We would be honored if you would accept the loan of this land for your Asian embassy and allow Japan to host you.”
The Swiss ambassador also leaned forward and laid an identical parchment beside the first. “While we don’t yet know where we would place such an embassy, the Swiss government would also be honored to accept an embassy from the Terran Alliance.”
Lucy nodded her head as gravely and regally to the Swiss ambassador as she had to the Japanese. I think I’m getting the hang of this! It’s like acting—play the part and roll with the punches.
She turned her attention to the American ambassador, who wilted after a few seconds under her frank stare. “I’m afraid I haven’t been given instructions in that area as, uh, clear-cut as my fellow ambassadors,” he stumbled. “There are matters, uh, details, rather, that need to be discussed before I can authorize...”
“Well,” she said sweetly, “that’s quite all right. I’m sure my good friend, the baron, can contact the Canadian and Mexican ambassadors for me. Both countries have qualities to recommend them, though I daresay I do like the thought of having an embassy near Cancun. How about you, Stephen? Wouldn’t you like to get rid of some of that ‘spaceship pallor’? Marsha? Gayle?”
The Special Assistant to the President finally decided to take over. “Ma’am, Captain, we’re not saying there isn’t a possibility of an embassy in the United States. To be perfectly honest with you, we’re concerned with the thought of retaliation.”
The look on Lucy’s face was if she’d bitten into something extremely bitter. “That statement, Mr. Crenshaw, would, under normal conditions, make me run screaming from the room. And that would not be... appropriate... right now, would it? First, the ‘perfectly honest’ part, coming as it does from someone so closely allied to American political figures, is immediately suspect. Second, are you suggesting that we, that is, I, would be so petty as to retaliate against an entire country for the actions of a few? Especially when it’s obvious that the few got their just desserts on the spot. And I’d like to know why you are sitting here instead of Mr. Galway. Did he survive the explosion?”
“President Drake didn’t feel that Mr. Galway was the... appropriate person for this situation due to his previous involvement. It was decided at the highest level that you’d consider it an insult to have him present.”
“Allow me to deliver a newsflash to you, Mr. Crenshaw,” Lucy said, steel in her voice. “I have come to know John Galway, and while I don’t know him well, at least I do trust him, which is more than I can say for you. And I want him back in the loop. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Crenshaw?”
“Perfectly, Captain.”
“Very well, then. I expect to hear from him shortly. That being said, I believe our business is concluded for the time being. Mr. Miyagishima, Mr. Rennert, I wish to apologize for my behavior just now. I’m not used to dealing with matters of such a rarefied nature. The Mr. Galway we were just speaking of has accused me on more than one occasion of being more direct than he was used to. I think he said there was more give and take in situations like these, but I’ve never in my life had a use for being anything less than direct. It saves time, and everyon
e knows exactly what I mean.” She let her gaze move over the people assembled in the room. “Now, before we conclude our business for the evening, is there anything else we need to cover?”
Immediately, Colonel Deering stood up. “Before I sign on with any of this, I need to be convinced that this is the way to go, Captain. Along with telling me, and the world, why a twenty-five-year-old girl gets to set policy that will affect a planet and its people for centuries to come.” Deering’s stance and total concentration on Lucy earned him the undivided attention of everyone in the room. And his baiting of her had more than one pistol in hand.
“Take a break, people!” Lucy stood up and glared at everyone present. “Everyone is taking themselves way too seriously here. And that includes me, dammit. I’m going to answer the colonel’s questions, but—surprise—none of you are going to like my answers. Sit down, Colonel,” she ordered.
“First off, I don’t want this job! But I have it, having been shanghaied by my friends,” she said. “Colonel, I just lucked into this, if you can call it that. Someone else found the ship—someone your people murdered, by the way. I was among the first group to become volunteers. We all were, it seems,” she said, waving at her party. “I just happened to be the second one to get a captaincy. The first was his wife, Kitty, who is now in what our engineers think is a recuperation tank aboard the Galileo. Since I was the ranking line officer, I was forced by my peers to take this position. What it amounts to is that I was left holding the bag.”
Lucy shook her head as she glowered at the colonel and special assistant. “If we had turned the Galileo over to you, Colonel, not one soul on this planet outside of the military would see anything out of it for decades, if ever. And, there’s another consideration. I’ve had this discussion with Galway, so I’m truly surprised that we have to go through it again.