by Bob Mauldin
They all began to look forward to the nightly stops so they could catch up with what was going on with the Alliance. Every day it was someone new telling some audience what the Alliance was all about from someone else’s viewpoint. Or reporting that the two ships that had sat in orbit with the Galileo were gone, expounding for hours on the significance of that fact. Simon laughed for the first time in a week when heard that the Alliance Commander had accepted “an invitation to a gala to be held in her honor at the castle of an expatriate German nobleman living in Switzerland.” The reporter responsible for that particular piece of journalistic sleuthing was none other than Sarah Parker, who’d catapulted to international fame by being the only reporter with feet on the ground when the Alliance landed in Zurich.
“Personally, I think it’s true,” Simon asserted. “This Parker woman has had it right so far, and all I can say is that Lucy is going to kill me when she finds out I’m alive! She hates attention almost as much as Kitty.” Simon bestowed his second smile on the three men he was traveling with. “And she said it would start at eight p.m., so that would be noon here. Let’s stop for lunch and see what’s on TV.”
The past week hadn’t been kind to Agent Daniels, either. As short a time as that was, it was all it’d taken to make a man who prided himself on his dedication, loyalty, and devotion to duty to begin to question his basic beliefs under the right circumstances. From his first impulsive act of shooting the soldier, Daniels had been in just as much turmoil as Simon had. The fact that it had been self-preservation was irrelevant to him. But having been conditioned by the military and later the FBI to endure long periods of solitude, the agent was more adept than most at keeping his quandary hidden from the others. Now, it seemed, it was time to make the final break.
“Agreed,” he said. “There’s a small town just down the road. But first, we need to talk. Or at least I do.”
Brian, sitting behind the wheel, reached out and turned the radio off. “Revelation time, Roland?” he asked.
Father Timothy looked at the two men sitting at the small table. “You told us you two weren’t partners before we left the mission. Something else on your mind?”
Daniels shook his head. “Not that. I never made any bones about who or what I was after Simon woke up. I just said we were partners then because I didn’t feel the need to confuse the issue with facts. Now I do. I was on that shuttle escaping from the Alliance. They would have let me go anyway, but not with these.” He pulled two disks out of his shirt pocket. “Or with this,” he added, pulling the laser pistol out of the back of his belt and laying it on the table beside the disks.
“Once upon a time I believed in my country. I still do, I think. But after what happened at Camp David, I can’t be a part of it. Those disks have all the information I could acquire on your propulsion and weapon’s systems, as well as a lot of stuff you probably wouldn’t have released to us for years, but we’d still have a leg up on most other countries. It contains deflector screens that would protect most major cities with just the power of any major hydroelectric dam. Think of it. And there’s more. I’m not bragging, but I’m good at my job. And the gun was just because I’m a weapon’s nut. You should see my collection someday.
“Back to the main issue. Yesterday, I called a friend, hoping to call in a favor. I didn’t get it, by the way, but I got something better—or worse, depending on how you look at things. It appears I underestimated the owner of a certain cartage company. He called the police when he found his truck ‘misplaced.’ He wanted to be sure it hadn’t been used in a crime, or so he told the police. They fingerprinted the truck and sent the prints to the National Crime Information Center, NCIC. That and some mysterious bloodstains on the passenger side have let the wrong authorities know that I’m back on Earth, and since I haven’t checked in, there’s a nationwide alert out for me. And because of the blood, Simon, too.”
“I’d think,” Father Timothy said, “that the word ‘treason’ would be bandied about in relation to both of you then.”
“I’ll go ya one better, Timmy,” Brian said from the front of the Winnie. “These two would just disappear. No trials, no publicity. And since we just happen to be with ‘em, we would disappear, too. Only difference is that they’d survive longer than we would. Both of them know something. We just came along for the ride, so to speak.” Brian glanced into the rearview mirror at Daniels and waited for his response.
“What can I say after...” the agent said. “Look, the best thing we can do now is split up, and the town coming up is just as good a place as any to do it. We’ve got enough money to buy a car and go on to Denver separately. Here’s the address of the two men you need to find.” At Simon’s startled expression, Daniels shrugged. “I told you I was good at what I do. Besides, what if you hadn’t woken up or something? Anyway, it’s done.”
The four men stopped on the outskirts of Salinas, Kansas, found a local channel carrying international news, and watched Lucy and her entourage emerge from a series of limousines and walk up the steps of a medieval castle.
Shaking his head, Simon could only ask no one in particular, “What is that woman up to?”
The morning after the gala, Lucy woke to a message light on her phone. She lay there staring at the sun shining off the western slopes of the Alps for several minutes, reveling in the clarity of the view. They make the Rockies look like foothills, she thought. I’m ruined for life. This is the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. She drew as much strength from the panoramas she could, knowing what was coming. Having gone partying as the Terran Alliance in front of international television, she was going to have to keep up the persona.
While things seemed to have gone well to that point, she still felt like she was about to make a fool of herself at any moment. So far, everyone seemed to be taking the Alliance seriously, with the notable exception of a certain few.
She dreaded the thought of picking up the handset and letting the world know she was awake.
The second ring brought a response. “Good morning, Captain. It’s 10 a.m., and you have messages waiting. Would you like the messages first, or breakfast?”
Lucy stared at the phone for a few seconds. Putting it back up to her ear, she said, “Uh, Commander Kimura?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Are any of the messages unable to wait for breakfast?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Okay. Orange juice, wheat toast, strawberry jelly and half a grapefruit. With sugar. Real sugar, and butter, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. About twenty minutes?”
“Uh, fine.” At the extended silence that followed, she said, “Uh, that will be all, Commander.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The line went dead, and Lucy stared in amazement at the phone. I heard Simon tell Kitty once that if you act like you have the right, most people will go along with you. Damn if it doesn’t work. I say having the goods to back it up helps, too. Putting on the uniform that had mysteriously appeared while she showered, she blushed. God! What did they think of that caterwauling I call singing?”
Minutes later a knock at her door made her jump. “Come in.”
“Breakfast, ma’am, and the local English newspaper.” Setting the tray down on a centuries-old desk at the side of the room, Commander Kimura said, “After breakfast, there’s a stack of messages on the desk in your office.” One of the bedrooms in the three-bedroom suite had been converted to an office for Lucy the second day. The third bedroom was occupied by Commander Kimura, and at least one member of the security detail was awake at all times in the dayroom. Two more were on guard in the hallway at all times, too.
She took a drink of orange juice and sprayed half of it all over the paper. There she was in as close to living color as a newspaper could get. Right on the front page! Along with Marsha, Gayle, and Stephen, of course, but the article began with the letters AP, which stood for Associated Press, and they delivered their ne
ws all over the world.
What the hell are Mom and Dad gonna think of this?
The article covered the landing, the visit to the Security Council meeting, and of course, the gala. She continued to force a few more bites of toast down, but they began to feel like lead in the bottom of her stomach. Finally setting the tray and paper aside, she stood up, dusted herself off, and with a deep breath, opened the door.
Commander Kimura started to get up, but Lucy waved her back down. “Don’t be doing that. Let’s do away with as much protocol in private as possible, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. You now have twenty-six messages on your desk. Fourteen of them are from ambassadors or representatives of various countries, arranged in order of who called first. The other twelve are television and news crews wanting an interview. They’re all using the word ‘exclusive’ and offering obscene amounts of money.”
“I don’t want this kind of notoriety! Get Marsha in here. And Gayle. Tell them I want to see them for a late lunch, around one o’clock, probably after I talk to all of those government guys. And remind me to call home today, please. Right now, I’ll go tackle those messages.”
Having her secretary (still a freaky feeling) call each of the ambassadorial messages back, she spoke to each one personally, assuring most that they would all share equally in the distribution of technology, and assuring them that the larger nations would not set the agenda for what was released. They felt, as did the Alliance, that something other than weapons should be on the agenda for release. Then Lucy went through the stack from the media and finally settled on the woman who’d broken the story of their arrival. There was something about her...
Setting the last piece of paper down, she went out into the dayroom. She sat down in the ornate chair next to the desk and laughingly asked, “What’s new?”
“Well,” Commander Kimura said seriously, “more ambassadors, and now people wanting to sell things. One man wanted to sell us meteor insurance! Where do these people come from, and how do they get our number?
“Oh yeah, and then there’re the groups that want to pay us to do something—carry a satellite into orbit, launch personal remains into the sun or orbit, build a space hotel as a resort, and provide shuttle service. Take ‘em to the moon. Take ‘em to Mars. Who knows what’s next?”
“I sure don’t! Let’s get lunch and then I want you to set up an interview with this woman after I talk with Marsha and Gayle.” She passed a piece of paper across the desk. “Sarah Parker. She’s done the best job of reporting this so far, and she hasn’t been pushy. Yet. Schedule her tonight. Here. Her and one cameraman. We’ll have our own cameraman, as well, to prevent doctoring unless we allow the changes.”
Gayle and Marsha walked in, and Lucy said, “We’re about to have a lot of money coming in. There will be people who want us to do any number of things for them—hauling things into orbit, bringing things down, taking people here, taking them there, that sort of thing. Hell, we could license our technology rather than sell it or give it away. Even if all our power is free, we still have to have cash. Some, if not all, our people would like to be paid if possible, though I think a lot of ‘em would stay on for free. Marsha, among other things, will you figure out a pay scale of some kind? Base it on the US military. We’ve taken so much else from them, why not more? You are hereby appointed to the position of Secretary of the Treasury, but that won’t stop you from taking command of one of the ships due to arrive soon. I called the Heinlein. They have their skeleton crew aboard and are ready to micro-jump back. We’ll have four more ships in orbit very shortly. I asked the McCaffrey, too, and they report almost ready.
“Oh, and one more thing. It’s past time we had a lawyer—at least one. Gayle, you look into that for me, will you? Maybe you can find someone who grew up on science-fiction. Or maybe one of our crew has a relative somewhere willing to take on the job. Maybe Freddie, Baron von Schlenker, can be of some help in that area. Look into it and get back to me. No time limit, but soon.”
“Commander Kimura?” the young woman asked suspiciously. “And just what are you a commander of?” She glared at the phone in her hand as if it had bitten her.
“Terran Alliance,” the voice returned. “And my boss has ordered me to call you and tell you that you’ve been chosen for the exclusive interview you requested.”
“Yeah, right. Who put you up to this?”
“Miss Parker, your last written message to the office of the First Captain used the phrase, ‘I most anxiously await your response,’ just before your signature. And your last call to this office, answered by me, by the way, was the third since 7 a.m.”
“Tell me where and when.” The reporter’s voice immediately turned professional.
“Here. Two hours. You and one cameraman. We hold final rights over what goes out. That’s not to say that you’re restricted in your questions, just that we intend to make sure the reporting isn’t biased.”
Met at the hotel’s main entrance, Sarah and her cameraman were hustled into an elevator and whisked to the penthouse level. Once there, they were led into two different rooms and thoroughly searched before being deposited in front of a desk behind which sat a small Asian woman.
“Uh, I was expecting...”
“To meet the Captain immediately? Oh, no! You’re getting the grand tour, Miss Parker,” Kimura said with a grin.
Nonplussed by the Alliance woman’s response, Sarah tried to regain the initiative she felt she hadn’t had since pulling up in front of the hotel. “I really don’t appreciate the tactics your Amazons used on me and my cameraman,” Sarah said. “You people invited us, remember?”
“And your people are responsible for the deaths of four of ours and dozens of your own, remember?” the secretary shot back. “To that end, we reserve the right to inspect all of your equipment before any of it’s allowed around First Captain Grimes. Now, you’ve passed the first hurdle—getting your equipment in here. Do you want the interview, or do I call one of these others?” she asked, waving the stack of messages at the young woman.
“No!” the reporter said hastily. “I mean, I’ll do the interview. What format do you want to use? Straight Q and A? Or informal chat? How much time can you give me? And where do you want to have it? And we haven’t discussed your fee yet either.”
Commander Kimura looked like she’d bitten into something sour. “I don’t know enough about that to even comment. The captain said we should have the interview, and before it airs, your people can decide what it’s worth to you. See? We can be pretty easy to deal with. As to your other questions, how about an informal chat? Do you have some questions ready? Need more time?” When the reporter shook her head, the commander went on. “As to the amount of time, the captain said as much as it takes. We may have to break for business matters, but we can always pick up where we left off. All in all, probably no more than a few hours. Is that agreeable to you?”
“Uh, yes. Certainly! That only leaves where to hold the interview and when.”
“Well, here’s where things could get a bit sticky. How do you feel about traveling?” Kimura asked, grinning mischievously.
Parker glanced at her cameraman. “It would depend on how far we have to go and how long it will take to get there, wouldn’t it?”
Kimura said, “Well, how far? About, oh, I don’t know, I’d guess around twelve thousand miles. And how long to get there? Less time than it would take you to get from this floor to the ground by elevator. Are you in?”
“In? In what?” the reporter asked as she glanced apprehensively at her partner. “How do we travel twelve thousand miles that fast?”
“With these,” Kimura said, holding up two small disks. “We call them locator disks. You hold one and when I press the button on my wristband, we all beam out of here. Just like in the movies. We wind up on the Galileo. You’ve heard of her, haven’t you?” She continued sarcastically. “The big one sitting up there in orbit? The one that starte
d all this fuss in the first place?”
“Sarah,” the man holding the camera said. “I think we’re getting a chance no other team on the planet has a shot at. Take it! A Pulitzer for you, maybe. And look what it’ll do for my career! Hey, lady,” he said, changing his focus. “I can’t speak for her, but I’m in. If she won’t go, I’ll do the interview myself!”
“Hey! Back off, Dwayne. Give a girl time to be stunned, will ya? Of course, I’ll do it. How does this work, again?” she asked taking the disk from the other woman.
“Just hold it in your hand. Dwayne, make sure that anything you need is in your hands or strapped to your body. Otherwise, it, or parts of it, could be left behind. Here’s your disk. Ready?”
“Wait! This is cool and all that, but why can’t we do the interview from here?” Sarah asked. “I mean, hell, I don’t know what I mean.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest with you, Miss Parker, Captain Grimes had some pressing business on board the Galileo. And while she wants to do the interview, the best place at this time would be aboard ship. I can’t say any more than that right now.”
“Okay. Do it before I change my... mind. Holy shit!” The reporter stood motionless in the confines of a hexagon on the floor of a metal-walled room. A console on the far side was operated by a young man in a uniform to match the one their host was wearing.
She watched as the Alliance Officer took a small device off her belt and spoke into it. “This is Kimura. I have the interview team with me.”
Sarah heard the faint sound of a camcorder beginning to operate and turned to her partner. “Do you believe this shit?” she asked. Remembering the microphone in her hand, she moved away from the cameraman and posed in front of him. “This is Sarah Parker. I have the honor to be standing in the... where are we?”