Spheres of Influence

by Bob Mauldin

  Gayle broke in. “What about the rest of us?”

  “Don’t be so anxious, Gayle. I’ve got something for you to do, too,” Lucy said. Kimura, knowing what was coming since she’d been used as a sounding board for the scheme that was about to be proposed, put down her recorder and watched with interest. “There’s still the matter of who attacked Orion, remember? Were they associated with the ship the Heinlein and the McCaffrey killed? Are either of those two associated with the Builders? We could be dealing with three alien races, out here people, none of whom may like us being here. And at least one of ‘em knows where we are.”

  Lucy looked uncomfortable. “You three will start playing war games, and as we get new ships, they’ll join in as well. Figure out amongst yourselves who can help devise strategies that will work in space. We humans are really good at exterminating things on our own world—to the point that many species have gone extinct—but on our world we’re working with only two dimensions. We’re stepping onto a whole other playground, boys and girls, and if we don’t learn real quick, we’re gonna get our collective asses handed to us.”

  Jerry Chapman, after conferring with his exec, said, “Someone could get hurt. A lot of someones.”

  “I imagine,” Robert Greene said, “that we’ll be using weapons with reduced power like the demo flights a few weeks back.”

  “Right,” Lucy said, glad to go anywhere else than there. “And we won’t be using the new plasma discharge weapon on each other. Too expensive.” The new weapon, a prototype, had been mounted on Cheetah One to test against drones. “Marsha, I can’t guess what prompted you to use it against a grounded craft. I’m glad you waited, I guess, but it was already down!”

  “He pissed me off,” she muttered.

  Lucy missed the comment but not the reaction to it. She glared at Robert and Gayle as they fought to hold in their laughter. “And you’ll get your share, Robert. I’ve decided that the Niven may not be permanently in orbit, especially if the climate downside continues to improve. I could just move my whole staff into the complex on Fre… Baron von Schlenker’s estate. Actually, we could start to call it the Terran Alliance Embassy, move out of that hotel, and let Zurich get back to normal. I’m sure the mayor and chief of police would appreciate it. I’d like to see it up and running within the month. Then, after the other three finish their first set of games, they can rendezvous with the Galileo, pick up the returnees, and come back to Earth orbit. One of them will relieve you and you can go play interstellar cowboys and aliens, or whatever is socially relevant. I imagine Gayle would like to rest her crew first.

  “And remember that new ships will be joining the party pretty soon, so they’ll have to be crewed up as we go along.” Lucy finally ran down and sank into a chair.

  “And what will the Alliance presence be doing on Earth while all of us are away?” came from Jerry Chapman’s exec.

  “Murillo, right? Arthur? Like to be called Art?” At his nod, Lucy said, “The Alliance presence will be doing three things. One, our stated goal of recruiting volunteers. Two, keeping our word on another goal, specifically the release of technology to Earth. And three, public relations. We need to keep these people’s good will. This is our home, too, after all. They are our families. They are our past and our future.”

  “How can they be our future?” Marsha asked. “We’re trying to leave them behind, aren’t we?”

  Stephen spoke for the first time “On an individual level, that could be the case, Marsha. But look at the two groups. One has too many people now and needs someplace to put the ‘extras.’ And one needs the extras. And not just the extras. How about a technological base that is comprised of an entire planet? How many ships could we turn out with that behind us?” Stephen went into lecture mode. “It’s truly a symbiotic relationship. They need us to get out into the universe, and we need their industrial base, after we help them upgrade it, and of course, their manpower to do so.”

  “Another point,” Lucy said. “Some of us don’t get to see our friends out on the bases all that often. That will change with regular stops to resupply, both them and us, or just visit so we don’t get tired of the same old faces. Did you know that all three bases are operating at higher-than-expected rates? Records I found in Simon’s desk detail conversations with Adam, Victor and Daniel,” she said, naming the base captain and commanders, “concerning the stockpiling of dozens of extra Mambas and hundreds of missiles at each base! Obviously, he wasn’t planning to get sidetracked, so he saw no need to keep others informed of the details. Apparently, each base is mining through a very concentrated cluster at about the same rate. Couple that with the innovation of smaller, more powerful warheads, and you have a very potent combination. And all of this without getting behind with ship production.”

  Stephen said, “Daniel was the first one to put it together. Of course, he had the ‘advantage’ of having to rebuild a portion of his own base before he could get back to business. Not only can each base handle its own repairs, it can handle add-ons. Without slowing production, they’ve managed to increase their capacity and size.”

  “Yes,” Lucy said from the comfort of her chair, “but the problem is that without additional personnel, as well as replacements for those who wish to return to Earth, they won’t be able to keep up that pace, so the Galileo is going out crammed with as many as we can get aboard. Once, it took a week to get to the belt, but now that we can micro-jump, we’re talking hours, a day at most, so overcrowding is going to be something we really won’t have to consider.”

  Lucy’s anger boiled just beneath the surface. She’d been wrangling with the baron and Lloyd Pike for an hour.

  “You can’t say you’re sorry,” Freddie said. “It amounts to an admission of guilt, and unless you honestly feel you did something to apologize for...”

  “He’s right, ma’am,” Lloyd said. “And the only thing you can do from that point is go into the reparation phase.”

  “Okay,” Lucy said, frustrated at the prohibition. “How about, ‘I regret the’...”

  “No, no,” the old baron said. “Using ‘I’ makes you specifically responsible. You must spread out the guilt. Say ‘The Terran Alliance regrets...’”

  Gritting her teeth at the restrictions placed on her, she said, “Which of you am I going to have to strangle first?” The time spent trying to compose a proper response to the U.S. State Department’s strongly worded protest had worn Lucy down. “They can say ‘unspeakable act’ and ‘piratical actions’ and I have to watch what I say?”

  “Their plane, their airspace, their casualties. I’m afraid you do have to watch what you say, my dear,” Maggie said as she breezed into the room. “I’m off, Freddie, my Love. I simply must meet with that dreary Countess van Kirkendahl. Some fundraiser or other. You know the countess.”

  The baron’s wife picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her immaculate tweed suit and walked over to Lucy’s side when she saw the discomfiture of her guest. “Try this: ‘The Terran Alliance deplores the necessity of interfering with Flight seven-one-seven, caused by the illegal nature of the arrest and the childish attempt at clandestine interrogation of one of our people and an American citizen for who’s safety we had accepted responsibility.’ That should defuse the situation, or more likely muddle it enough to put an end to it for all intents and purposes.”

  “That, ladies and gentlemen,” the baron avowed, “is why I married her! So insightful, so incisive, so beautiful!”

  “Hush, you old faker,” Maggie admonished her husband. Turning back to Lucy, she said, “Have Agent Daniels deliver it to the State Department on his return to the United States, and include a statement like, ‘We wish to commend Agent Daniels for his quick thinking and decisive actions in the matter of saving the life of Captain Simon Hawke and for his selfless attempt to help Captain Hawke regain contact with Terran Alliance personnel.’” With an airy wave of her hand, Margit, Countess von Schlenker, sailed out of the r
oom without a backward glance.

  Finding no need to change a word of what the woman had said, the three confederates leaned over the huge old desk and plugged the appropriate phrases into the document they were drafting. “I’ll get it copied and see how Agent Daniels feels about delivering it,” Lucy said with a sigh of relief.

  “Ma’am,” Commander Pike said, “I can be back with a clean copy in about half an hour. If you wish, I can brief Agent Daniels myself and bring him with me when I return.”

  “Okay, Lloyd,” she replied, standing up and massaging a kink out of her back. “Meet us at the... embassy. Freddie said he had something to show me?” She turned the statement into a question as she took the baron’s crooked arm, letting him lead her from the room. Behind her, Lloyd Pike disappeared in a shower of blue sparks, and the butler shook his head in wonderment.

  “You’re going to have to get used to traveling like a normal human being again, Lucy,” the baron said as he handed her into his Rolls Royce. “Take us to the main building, please, Viktor.”

  “Very well, sir,” was the only response from the liveried man behind the wheel.

  “Not much will surprise Viktor,” the baron said as the vehicle eased away from the curb. He turned to find Lucy running her hand over the surface of the sensuously soft leather covering the seats of the luxury vehicle. “Ostentatious, I know,” he said. “And I wouldn’t keep it if I didn’t need to keep up appearances. Now, I’m afraid I need to broach an unpleasant subject.”

  Lucy’s hand froze on the leather, and she looked into the baron’s eyes. “That means I’ve done something wrong.”

  “More to the point, you’ve done something irreversible without letting me know in advance. Not that you should have to do so on most matters,” he demurred with one hand up, “but when you make a move as drastic as interfering with government airplanes of foreign powers in their own airspace, you need to let me know as much in advance as possible.”

  “Spin-doctoring?” Lucy asked

  “That or distancing myself from the situation. I am the Terran Alliance’s ambassador, Lucy. One instance like this can be explained away or swept under the rug,” he said. “Two or three cannot.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Freddie,” Lucy said contritely. “My dad used to have a saying about being painted with the same brush. It means you could catch hell just for being associated with the Alliance if we do too much that is out of step with what’s considered proper conduct.”

  “You have an instinctive grasp of the situation, Lady Lucille,” the baron said suavely. “I’m sure the matter won’t need to be discussed again. Ah, here we are.” The Silver Cloud pulled up at the curb, having bypassed the oversized parking lot, and the baron, at his debonair best, handed Lucy out of the car.

  They stood for a moment gazing at the gold-tinted glass front of the building. The words ‘Terran Alliance’ were hung over the door in block letters. “We need to design a logo or something, don’t we?” Lucy asked sotto voce.

  Set back from the curb about seventy feet, the building shone in the evening sunlight. Walking up the two flights of widely spaced shallow steps, Lucy moved toward the doors in a daze. The baron opened the door with a flourish and Lucy stepped into the cool interior, freezing in astonishment.

  The lobby floor, once covered in a neutral grey, was now covered in a light-absorbing black, relieved here and there by specks of color highlighted by the recessed lights shining down from the black ceiling. Silver accented the doorway and edges of tables, as well as the receptionist’s desk.

  Two sets of painters were busily covering the left and right sides of the room in murals directed by one man standing in the geometric center of the lobby. “No! No!” he said with all the feeling of a frustrated perfectionist. “You must make it live! It’s the Horsehead Nebula, you cretins! Yes!” he said to the team working on the other side of the room. “The depth! You make it come alive! This is truly the Milky Way!”

  “Karl,” the baron said with mock seriousness, “the next set of painters is coming out of your pocket. Allow me to present First Captain Lucille Grimes of the Terran Alliance. Lady Lucille, Herr Doktor Karl Mensing, chief astronomer of the Royal Observatory in Stockholm.”

  “I want to thank you, Herr Doktor, for your time and effort here,” Lucy said, sticking her hand out to shake his. “The murals are magnificent! And the rest of the décor!”

  “They will be when these paint splatterers learn to follow directions,” he said quietly, referring to the walls. “Pfffft! The rest, it just made sense.” The monocled astronomer took Lucy’s proffered hand, and instead of shaking it, turned it slightly and pulled it toward him, kissing the back of it, which caused Lucy to redden.

  Lips on the back of her hand, the Doktor’s eyes caught Lucy’s blush. “You will have to learn to accept common courtesy with grace, First Captain.”

  “In the circles I’m comfortable in, a handshake is very common, Herr Doktor, but I find this most appealing.”

  Before the interchange could founder embarrassingly, the baron said, “First Captain, if you wish, we can continue the tour?”

  “By all means, Your Grace, let’s,” Lucy replied

  The rest of the tour was of more prosaic surroundings—offices and storerooms, lavatories and living quarters.

  “Some of your personnel will be day labor and some will be embassy staff,” the baron said. “You’ll need to be able to distinguish between the two, as well as visitors and unauthorized persons.”

  Lucy smiled. “Remember our tech advantage? Our wristband will be the deciding factor. There are a few items that will be left behind when the Galileo leaves orbit tomorrow.” Her smile grew wider. “Simon, when he was fit, said you should never have just one motive for an action. We’ll be sending down several of our computers to run the three embassies, defensive equipment, a few trinkets to impress the natives, and three of our wristband machines. We’ll have the new shuttle Victor sent us from Libra to transport people to orbit, as well as the normal complement that would be aboard a ship of the Niven’s class.”

  The baron stopped in front of an immense oak door bearing a plaque that read simply, “Lucille Grimes, First Captain, Terran Alliance.” It was with the gallantry found only among continental Europeans that he said, “First Captain, your business offices. I’ve taken liberties, of course. You’re welcome to make any changes you desire, and I won’t be offended.”

  Lucy walked into what, under other circumstances, would have been any other secretary’s office found anywhere, but the differences jumped out at once. While a normal office would have been a bright color, this room mirrored the lobby with its dedication to the black and silver motif. Three of the walls bore pictures of various astronomical phenomena, illuminated by cleverly hidden lights. The over-stuffed black leather couch was accompanied by four black leather chairs, all of which surrounded a massive black coffee table. All six pieces were chased in what appeared to be pure silver and standing on the same style carpet that was found in the lobby. Off to one side was a black, silver-bordered pedestal bearing a small grey rock. The various black items seemed to complement each other, some gloss, some matte, while others were either hard or, in the case of the couch and chairs, soft. “I see you’ve been in collusion with Commander Kimura,” Lucy observed, staring at the small asteroid.

  “My transgressions will become even more apparent momentarily, I’m afraid,” the old man said with a huge grin and no hint of remorse. “If you would, please?” he asked with a flowing gesture toward another door. Lucy, fearing another shock would finish her off, opened the door.

  The normality she walked into was almost as much of a shock as all the surprises leading up to this moment. It appeared that her office aboard the Niven had been sent down in toto. The walls surrounding the desk and models of the various ships were different, though. A shimmering grey paint covered three of the walls, and the fourth was hidden by black floor-to-ceiling
silver-chased drapes. Fanciful renditions of sights found around the solar system graced the walls. Lucy looked at the small brass plaque beneath one of the paintings: “Saturn’s Rings Seen from the Surface of Its Moon, Titan.” The signature in the lower righthand corner simply said, “Bonestell.”

  “Is this...”

  “An original?” Freddie asked. “Yes, it is. I’ve had it and several others in my collection for years. I couldn’t think of a better place to display them. Can you?”

  “Uh, no,” Lucy responded lamely as she sank into the familiar chair behind the plain grey desk.

  “I would suggest that you get a more prestigious desk and chair. I have a desk in mind—nineteenth century, I believe—that would be the antithesis of the rest of this entire building. It would draw attention to the person behind it. But the chair—lumbar support, three-way massage, heated, and adjustable to almost any position! Worthy of your inestimable self, my dear.”

  “Let me think about it, okay?” Lucy said vaguely. “This is beginning to snowball, and I have no idea where it will lead.”

  August 17th was clear and cold in Zurich, Switzerland. Lucy Grimes, First Captain of the Terran Alliance, became the de facto head of the Alliance delegation to the planet Earth when the Galileo headed out into the depths of space to rendezvous with Orion Base. Observatories around the globe reported that fact, as well as the fact that three of the four ships in the Alliance arsenal left as well.

  Before the huge ship moved out, several deliveries were beamed down to the embassy. Three of the organic computers, one for each embassy, crate after crate of support equipment, satellite uplinks, prototypes of various items that should be of interest to scientists and military types as well, and dozens of boxes with attached contents lists began to pile up in some of the second-floor offices. Larger items, such as the three antigrav ground cars and the generators for the defense grids, along with all the associated hardware, had been shipped down by shuttle the day before.