by Bob Mauldin
Caught unprepared for the next question by the implications of the previous one, Sarah, blurted out, “Who designed your uniforms?”
Oh, God! Sarah Parker, reporter for Interplanetary Fashion Review!
Lucy smiled. “Well, they were just supposed to be utilitarian, and for the most part, they’ve stayed that way. The short sleeved duty uniform you see on most of the crew grew out of that concept, as well as the longer, more formal dress uniform, of course. But I must admit that when we received our invitations to Baron von Schlenker’s gala, we were caught flatfooted. Here we were, finished with three space docks and ready to go build a fourth, and nothing to wear to something really fancy! The uniforms for the gala were mostly done on the spur of the moment.”
Sarah picked up the amber-filled glass the redhead had put down in front of her during Lucy’s last answer and took a sip. Clearing her throat, and asked, “Where do you get your recruits, Lucy, and what do you expect to happen to them when they go home?”
“More good questions, Miss Parker. They’re tied together, by the way, and we see them as the second major obstacle. First, we have a few people who, for one reason or another, weren’t able to sign on as active shipboard personnel and who still want to contribute. They’ve been acting as recruiters for us down below. Our extended absences caused a lot of problems at first, as you can imagine, since most people who want to believe just can’t believe when someone says, ‘Guess what? I’ve got a spaceship.’”
Sarah laughed out loud. “I can sympathize with them. I’m actually sitting here and I’m having trouble believing. So, how did you get around that situation?”
“Well, as I remember it, a bunch of us went to a sci-fi convention and there was a billboard mentioning a talk by a Dr. Stephen Walker about transporter technology in the modern age. It drew about forty people and we got shown transporter technology using Commander... Captain Miller as a first test subject. After that, he said, ‘Guess what? We’ve got a spaceship.’ A lot of us told Dr. Walker to put up or shut up and wound up going on our first beam-up. Some of the others came along because of Captain Miller. She’s not the kind of woman you meet; she’s the kind of woman you experience.”
Sarah had settled down into “interview mode” and glanced down hastily at some of her scribbled notes. “And how do you see your people being treated when they choose to go home?”
“I’m sorry to say that I don’t expect to be seeing them treated well at all, much less by their own government, which is primarily the United States. As yet, we haven’t had the opportunity to recruit outside the U.S., so most of our people are Americans. I have been the target, albeit lightly, of some of our more... clandestine government agencies. I understand,” Lucy said, holding up her hand, “that they’re just doing their job, but their methods are born of fear, since they believe that what they can’t control can harm them and must be feared. I see our people being picked up, interrogated, and kept under lock and key until they’ve had all their secrets ‘squeezed’ out of them. I see whole families being subjected to this same process just for being related to someone aboard an Alliance craft. Refusal to ‘tell all’ could result in charges of treason if the government really wanted to scare someone.
“It’s the natural condition for a living creature to want to continue its existence, and a government is surely a living being. Never doubt that. Governments are born, they mature, they die. And they will reach out and hurt you if you hurt them. They’ll try to attain whatever they need to stay afloat in the cesspool of politics they foster and swim in. They attain money, often underhandedly, and spend it, often foolishly. I call that living. And they should exist. In this day and age, almost every nation on Earth is full of ethnic diversity. Some like it, and some don’t. In either case, there are laws to protect ‘good’ as it’s defined by the inhabitants of a particular area. To enforce laws, you need police. To control the police, you need more laws and a government to watch over them. But to answer the question you asked, I see our people being treated poorly until we get some form of recognition that protects them. Whether you want to call them employees, volunteers, or citizens, they have the same basic rights as always, spelled out in one of the United States’ most revered documents—the Bill of Rights.”
“You’ve been out here for three years now. What prompts people to stay?”
Lucy’s eyes drifted out of focus for a second. “Well, it sure isn’t for the pay, I’ll tell you that! What prompts them... us... to stay? Look around you! In three years, we’ve taken a derelict alien spaceship and learned how to use it well enough to begin to duplicate it! That doesn’t mean we understand everything we do. We’re just following directions, so to speak, but we learn more every day. Hell, I’ll bet if you were to go home right now and ask, you’d find that a surprisingly high number of people don’t know how a light bulb works and don’t care enough to find out.
“But back to your question. A few go home, but we’ve managed to keep a fairly low profile.”
“What do you plan to do with all the ships you’re building?”
“We believe,” Lucy said after several seconds’ hesitation, “that the original owners will come looking for their ship eventually. If they want it back, they can have it. But if they don’t want technological competition, there could be resistance, and we want to be able to handle that successfully. We’ve already made several modifications to their existing technology that the Builders apparently hadn’t conceived of. For example, the force fields that got such a reaction out of you earlier.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, reddening visibly.
“When we got the ship, the entire cargo bay had to be depressurized to move cargo in and out of it. But after our engineers got through with the capture fields on the shuttles, we had force fields that could selectively pass objects through when needed. The Builders don’t seem to be very innovative. It looks like they get something that works and just keep it. For example, they don’t seem to have grasped the fine art of miniaturization, at least on a grand scale. By that I mean that they would make a... something... smaller to fit into a smaller space, like a shuttle, but leave it large on a ship like this one. Their use of what we call the ‘capture field’ is another example. It was only used on the shuttles and their fighters. (By the way, we’ve reworked their fighters into something bigger, faster, and far more deadly than they ever had.) We adapted the capture fields to be used inside the ship here in the cargo bay, and with minimal reconfiguring, turned it into the force field that not only surrounds the bay doors but the entire ship itself. And we’ve just figured out how to put partial shields on our fighters.”
Sarah looked down at her notes for a few seconds and finally asked, “Do you intend to hold to the statement that your Captain Hawke made in relation to the disbursement of technology to Earth?”
Expecting this question, Lucy had a reply ready instantly. “New administration, new policy. I’m sure the governments down below will recognize that fact. They won’t like it, but they’ll get used to it. Basically, the result will be the same. Earth will get a technological upgrade at the end-user stage, and the Terran Alliance gets cash or concessions. Call it licensing fees if you want, or whatever. The good thing is that we have no place to spend the money except on Earth, so it all comes home sooner or later.”
“Are you worried about spies or industrial espionage?”
“Of course, we are. We’re taking what measures we can to minimize the losses, but remember that once we part with a particular item, it’s out there. We can’t call it back. And if we can see implications in a piece of equipment beyond the obvious, don’t you think someone will come up with an idea we missed? Actually, industrial espionage will cost us, but that will only be money. The only restrictions, remember, are on weapons and propulsion technology. And the propulsion technology is only restricted because it requires a lot of vacuum and zero gravity, access to a sun’s corona, and the ability to make monopoles
, some of which are antimatter. Do you really want another Camp David to happen somewhere on Earth? I think not. And as far as weapons are concerned, it will take the output of one of those sets of monopoles to power weapons as powerful as we have. And that begs the eternal question: aren’t there enough nuclear weapons on Earth right now to wipe it out several times over? What would we need stronger weapons for?”
Sarah looked up to see a man pulling his finger across his throat. “I assume that means you have to go, Captain?” she asked, indicating the man.
“I’m afraid it does, Miss Parker,” Lucy replied. “I believe I have a staff meeting with my two newest captains.”
“One last question, if you would, First Captain,” the reporter begged. “I’ll make it an easy one, I promise.”
“The only ‘easy’ question was about the uniforms,” Lucy retorted. “But I think I’m up to the challenge. Go ahead.”
“How does your family feel about this development in your life?”
Momentarily stunned by the change of direction, Lucy sat there, mouth open, until she closed it with a snap. “Of all the questions you could have asked, Miss Parker, that’s the one I least expected to hear.” A smile crossed her face. “Actually, it is the last question, isn’t it?” she asked, head cocked slightly. “Okay, I’m from the upper mid-west, I guess you’d call it. Middle-class family, middle-class values. My family wasn’t easy to convince and still aren’t really, but once they see this, there won’t be any doubt, will there? My mom has her pottery classes and bridge club and can’t understand any of this, and my dad is an electrical engineer and won’t believe it. I have one brother and no sisters to shock with the news, and I have no idea about aunts, uncles or cousins.”
Sarah turned to face the camera squarely. “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The first unrehearsed interview with First Captain Lucy Grimes, the leader of the Terran Alliance. I’m Sarah Parker, reporting from the starship Galileo somewhere in Earth orbit.”
Simon and Daniels left Salinas, Kansas in a car older than a lot of the members of the Terran Alliance, while the brothers Jeffers followed at a discreet distance in the RV. The old green Impala was chosen because it had a rebuilt engine theoretically capable of reaching Denver and a CB radio to keep in touch with the Winnie.
Keeping to a sedate sixty-eight miles per hour, the old Chevy led the RV by about three miles. “We’ll have to shorten the distance once we reach the mountains,” Simon said into the microphone. He leaned back on the cracked-vinyl seat and looked at the mountain chain growing in the distance.
I’ve flown a Mamba through the asteroid belt, and I still feel a sense of awe at the sight, he thought.
It was discovered that the Chevy had a tendency to overheat when it had to climb, so Simon and Daniels spent a lot of the next morning and early afternoons sitting in pullouts alongside the road. It worked out well, actually, since the Winnebago needed to climb in a lower, slower gear anyway.
“My guess would be thermostat,” Daniels said, “since we aren’t losing coolant.”
It was during the third such stop that the luck that had been following Simon seemed to vanish. Pretending to be tourists while the car cooled off, the two men would stand and gaze at the view in a near-companionable silence, more often than not.
The two men watched as a Colorado Highway Patrol car pulled into the rest stop and cruised slowly past the scattering of parked cars and pickups.
“Well, what do you think? Are we on his agenda?”
The lone officer didn’t seem to pay any special attention to the old Chevy as he passed. They watched him turn his car off, speak into his microphone for a few seconds, and get out.
Simon heaved an audible sigh of relief when the patrolman headed in the direction of the restrooms. “That’s the kind of reaction that gets people arrested, Simon,” Daniels said. “Let’s get to the car. Now.”
“What’s the hurry? He went to pee.”
“It’s glaringly obvious that you’ve never had a major run-in with the law,” Daniels noted. “First, he didn’t lock the doors on his cruiser. Second, he wasn’t moving like a man on that particular mission. He was moving like he wanted someone to think he had to pee. Third, he never looked at any of the cars or people he passed. Ever seen a police officer who didn’t make eye contact with at least a few individuals? Entirely too forced. Let’s go.”
Simon managed to hobble to the passenger door and get settled as Daniels started the engine. “Temp is still too high. Call Brian and tell him we need a pickup, quick,”
Simon keyed the mike. “Stargazer to Sawbones. Pass the next rest stop and pick us up just past the abandoned vehicle. Acknowledge.”
“Will do, Stargazer. What’s up?”
“I hope it’s nothing. If we have company, just pass on by. You have an assignment. I’ll say goodbye, now, just in case. Do not respond. Stargazer clear.”
Daniels had the old car out of the parking space and headed for the entrance ramp to the highway when flashing lights pulled into the rest area behind them. “Company, Simon. And it isn’t good,” Daniels said as he took his eyes off the mirror and slowly accelerated. “We keep up appearances until they force us to do something. It’s barely possible that it’s not us... shit!”
The expletive was the first one Simon had ever heard Daniels utter. That’s a bad sign, he thought. He hung the microphone back on the hook and turned the radio off while changing channels at random as a second set of lights came in from the wrong direction of the ramp. Daniels slammed on the brakes, and the old car nosed down and slid to a silent halt.
At least the salesman didn’t lie about the brakes, Simon thought incongruously.
He looked over his shoulder as the second vehicle also slid to a stop, leaving inches between the two vehicles. Bad sign number three appeared in the form of officer number one. Simon was staring down a barrel big enough to drive a Volkswagen through.
“Step out of your vehicle with your hands up!” Came over a loudspeaker in the rear car.
“Suggestions?” Simon asked.
“Yeah, right,” Daniels growled. “Just do what they say, and let me do the talking. Maybe I can get us out of this. I hope.”
One hand up and outside the car, Daniels loudly announced, “Coming out, officers. Federal agent! Don’t shoot.”
“Step clear of the car, Agent, and keep your hands in the air. And your friend, too. Move!”
“No friend of mine, officer. Just a hitchhiker. And he’s injured. Cut him some slack getting out of the car. Bum leg and arm in a cast.”
“My, my. Aren’t you the humanitarian? Don’t lie to me!” the first officer said “We have descriptions of you from back at the car lot in Salinas. You shouldn’t walk onto a lot and pay cash, mister. At least not in consecutive hundreds. Some people get nervous enough to report it. Now turn around. If you are a Federal agent, you know all about assuming the position. Do it!”
Simon struggled out of the passenger side and kept his right arm up. “Hey, guys. Busted arm, here. And a bad leg. Doing the best I can.” He watched as the officer frisked Daniels and came up with a wad of cash, his badge and a stun gun.
“Not like anything I’ve ever seen,” the officer said. Simon could see the name “Reynolds” on the silver nameplate the officer wore. Then he felt himself being pushed into the side of the car, his legs forcibly spread, and hands patting him down.
“This one’s clean.”
“Well, well. Looks like we hit the jackpot, boys,” Reynolds said “This badge says we have FBI Agent Roland Daniels with us. And isn’t that the name that came in on the fax a couple of days ago? Cuff ‘em, and let’s get out of here.”
While getting their rights read to them and settling into the back of one of the cruisers, Simon saw the RV pull in and stop in the section for larger vehicles. Deliberately keeping his eyes on the seat in front of him, he waited until the three-car convoy moved out of the parking area wi
th Daniels in the lead vehicle.
Looks like splitting up was a bad idea, he thought. At least Brian and Timothy got away. Unless, he felt the blood drain from his face, they’re being followed separately.
The only words spoken on the drive into Denver were from the patrolman reporting in on his radio.
“Oh, Christ!” Brian exclaimed as he pulled the RV to a spot across the parking lot from the confrontation. “What’ll we do? Hey! Roland left that laser of his with us. We could shoot out their tires...”
“Brian! Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!” Father Timothy said angrily. “And will you listen to yourself? Shoot out the tires? How about shooting out the radios as well? Then shoot the officers, because they’ll surely have figured out who’s shooting at them by then. And if they don’t shoot us, they’ll tell every other policeman in the country. How far are you willing to go to carry out an assault?
“I don’t like what I’m seeing either, but they aren’t being mistreated. Those men are only doing their jobs as they see them. They have orders to follow. And when you think about it, we do, too, in a way. The best way we can help them is to get word to their people. And that gun is our ticket to proving our story, so don’t go playing with it. It’s not a toy lightsaber, you know.”
Pushing the RV to its limits, Brian managed to keep the police convoy in sight until they turned off at a small town and into what appeared to be a county jail. A plan had formed over the last hour on the road, and it was immediately implemented. Realizing that Simon and Roland probably wouldn’t be moved again for a while, they took a page from Daniels’ own book and drove to a used car dealer.
Driving their new acquisition to a motel, they temporarily mothballed the RV and settled in to implement the second part of the plan they’d formed—contacting the Colliers or the Brandts.
It wasn’t the contacting that was the problem, they found, it was the convincing, which was going to be no easy task. They parked their late-model Mercury in front of the two-story Aurora home and knocked on the door.