by Linn Schwab
The potential for religiosity was too great to ignore. Foster knew he had to inquire about this if there was any chance that their beliefs might interfere with his plans.
“This fountain...” he said. “It’s beautifully crafted. Does it bear any special significance to you, or to the broader population of your world in general?”
Olaf seemed uncertain how to respond at first, as if he was leery of offending someone. He glanced around himself before answering, to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear. “It was commissioned by our founders a long time ago,” he explained. “Out of respect for them, we keep it in working order.”
The answer gave Foster all he needed to know. Apparently this Benevolent Friend was nothing to be overly concerned about.
Behind him he heard the sound of wheels on pavement. A young boy on a tricycle rolled up beside Olaf.
“Daddy,” the boy said, “are you coming home for dinner tonight?”
Olaf smiled and knelt down beside him. “I’m not sure yet, Jonathan. I have an important meeting to attend. Tell your mother not to wait for me if I’m not at home by dinner time.”
“Okay,” the boy said. He turned his trike around and sped off across the plaza on a mission to deliver his father’s message.
“The Council Hall is right over here,” Olaf said, gesturing with one hand toward a nearby building. He led Foster up a short flight of stone stairs, through a set of glass doors and into a central meeting chamber, ringed with a walkway around its outer edge. A doorway on the left opened to a small conference room, with a table at the center, and a wall of windows at the rear, looking out toward blue ocean waters in the distance.
A woman dressed in white was seated behind the table, with two men standing just off to her right. She had dark hair and fair skin, and a blank expression on her face that suggested she had no idea what to expect. Foster put her age at no more than early thirties — too young, he would have thought, to be elected leader of a planet. One of the men beside her seemed similar in age. The other appeared to be somewhat older, though still not typical of senior politicians back on Earth. Perhaps their inexperience would work to his advantage. He could only hope they wouldn’t be blind to reason, as he’d often found to be the case with young professionals.
“Mr. Demming,” Olaf said, gesturing respectfully toward the woman, “this is Chief Administrator Valerie Maris.”
Foster stopped where he was standing and politely dipped his head, since the table’s breadth made the offer of a handshake impractical.
Administrator Maris pushed her chair back from the table, and leaned forward to pull herself to her feet. When she stood up, Foster felt his heart skip a beat, and a momentary tightness took hold of his stomach. He’d known from the start that Administrator Maris was a woman ... but he wasn’t expecting her to be pregnant. And not just pregnant. Very pregnant. To the point where the buttons on her shirt were nearly bursting.
Suddenly and without warning, he was out of his comfort zone. His well–honed skills were under threat of being marginalized. In all his years of participating in formal negotiations, he’d never once plied his trade on someone in her condition. This left him with unforeseen questions and concerns. How would it affect his ability to gauge her reactions — to interpret the subtle clues in her body language? If the baby squirmed at just the wrong moment, was there a danger he might read her expressions incorrectly?
“The two gentlemen,” Olaf continued, “are Councilor Alexander Klausen of District Eleven, and fellow Senior Advisor, Friedric Anderson.” Councilor Klausen turned out to be the older of the two. Advisor Anderson seemed roughly the same age as Olaf. Foster gave each of them a nod of recognition, then returned his attention to Administrator Maris.
“Mr. Demming,” she said with reserved cordiality, “welcome to Base Camp One.”
“Thank you, Administrator Maris,” he answered. “On behalf of the people of Earth, and the captain and crew of the Starship Marco Polo, I extend a hand of friendship to you in the hope of establishing favorable relations between our worlds.”
“Thank you, Mr. Demming,” she said. “That would be our hope as well.”
Time to drop the bombshell on them, he decided, before I allow things to get too friendly between us. “Regrettably,” he said, “there’s an issue we need to discuss which I feel is best addressed right from the outset. Namely, the sizable debt incurred by your founders when they absconded with the ESS David Livingstone.”
His hosts exchanged a few uneasy glances, but displayed no outward indication of surprise. Nor did they make any effort to protest. Rather, their reactions appeared to suggest calm acceptance. Good, he thought. They must have anticipated this. He almost let out a sigh of relief.
“First of all,” he continued, “I’d like to assure you that our proposals are not intended to be punitive in nature. In the spirit of fostering good will between us, we’ve decided not to seek any measure of redress beyond the actual value of the ship itself. Additionally, we recognize the fact that your economy may not be as developed as ours, due to its much shorter span of existence. With that in mind, we’re willing to be somewhat flexible in establishing the terms of compensation.”
Administrator Maris began to show signs of concern now, as if she feared what the terms might mean for her people. “What do you propose, Mr. Demming?” she said. It almost seemed as if she didn’t have the will to argue with him.
Foster laid his briefcase on the table and began his presentation as he undid its latches. “In the years since the Livingstone’s departure from Earth, many of the ship’s original investors have become defunct for various reasons. Again, in the spirit of fostering good will, their portion of the debt is to be forgiven. The remaining claimants have expressed an interest in two distinct sectors of your economy.” He pulled two contracts out of his briefcase and slid them across the table to Administrator Maris.
“Travel,” she read from the top of the first one, then placed it aside to examine the other. The second one clearly made her uneasy. “Mineral rights.” She briefly glanced at each of her colleagues before seeking clarification from Foster.
“The details of both contracts are negotiable,” he assured her, noting the look of concern in her eyes. “What we’re seeking is a fifteen year payoff on our claim. Fifteen Earth years,” he stipulated, uncertain how a year on their world might correspond.
“Mr. Demming,” Councilor Klausen inquired, “what happens if we’re unable to meet your demands? Will we be penalized in some way, for example, if estimates of our mineral reserves prove to be inaccurate?”
“As I said,” Foster explained, “the details of these contracts are negotiable. In regards to mineral deposit estimates, we have our own geological survey crew on board, to provide us with expert site analysis. If accountability is something that has you concerned, I’m sure we can make accommodations for that in the language that addresses deposit estimates.”
* * * *
Captain Reed stepped onto the Marco Polo’s bridge and found it as peaceful as he’d ever seen it. His personnel were quietly sitting at their stations, monitoring their instruments without engaging in any of their customary banter. The two scientists were standing near the port side windows, gazing down at the tranquil surface of the planet, showing no signs at all of being upset that he’d denied their request to fly down on the shuttle. He walked over to join them and looked through the window, taking in the captivating view down below. “Beautiful, isn’t it,” he said to the doctors. “What is it about this planet that makes it seem so...”
“Mesmerizing?” Dr. Friedman suggested. “Most likely it has something to do with the colors. Blues and greens are particularly appealing to human eyes.”
Captain Reed nodded, then teasingly alluded to their earlier conversation. “Just a natural preference for colors, then? No subliminal beacon embedded in the light?”
Dr. Friedman seemed not to take offense, and calmly offered an informativ
e reply. “Were you aware, Captain Reed, that the mutation responsible for blue eyes in humans appeared as recently as four thousand B.C.? If not for that mutation, we would all have brown eyes, just as everyone on Earth did prior to its occurrence.”
“And if not for this mutation,” the captain extrapolated, “we might never have been drawn to this solar system, right? Is that where you’re going with this, Dr. Friedman? Because if we were drawn here simply due to a random mutation, it would seem that this beacon of yours was poorly implemented.”
Dr. Friedman shook his head. “Not necessarily, Captain Reed. You’re assuming the mutation was a random occurrence, and not intentionally introduced by someone.”
Captain Reed immediately caught the inference. “Intentionally introduced? You mean by aliens?”
The two men stared at each other in silence, each of them testing the other’s conviction. The standoff ended when the ship’s physician joined them at the window and asked them a question. “Excuse me, Captain, Doctors Friedman and Klein, am I interrupting anything important?”
“Not at all, Dr. Hayes,” the captain said. “Do you have something you wish to report?”
“I was just wondering,” the physician said, “do any of you feel...” He paused as as if searching for the right terminology.
“Feel what?” the captain prompted him.
Dr. Hayes shrugged. “Euphoric. Exhilarated. I’m not really sure how best to describe it. Do any of you just feel really good? Like your bloodstream is somehow being flooded with endorphins?”
“Yes,” Dr. Klein cut in, running her hands up and down along the sides of her torso. “I was just noticing that myself. It’s like a warm and soothing feeling.”
Captain Reed tested an old shoulder injury and noticed the usual pain was now absent. “Now that you mention it,” he said, “I haven’t felt this good in years. What’s causing it?” he asked Dr. Hayes.
“I don’t know. I have no explanation for it yet, but everyone I’ve asked has reported a similar sensation.”
Captain Reed turned to the two scientists. “Do either of you have a theory as to what might be happening?”
Both of them appeared to ponder the question, then Dr. Friedman slowly nodded his head. “I suppose,” he said somewhat tentatively, “that it could have something to do with the planet’s magnetic field. We’ve been away from Earth’s magnetosphere for so long, perhaps this one is having some sort of therapeutic effect on us.”
“Uh ... huh,” Dr. Hayes responded thoughtfully. “That could very well be the explanation. As far as I’m aware, there have never been any studies performed to determine how human physiology reacts to these conditions.”
“If that’s the case, it’s a real shame,” the captain said, testing his shoulder’s range of motion. “I was hoping there might be a more practical way to duplicate the effects of this.”
* * * *
For nearly an hour, Foster fielded questions from his hosts, regarding details of the contracts he’d laid out before them. Their personalities seemed like an open book to him, though he wasn’t yet clear on what their motivations were. The two advisors, Olaf Ericks and Friedric Anderson, were clearly quite fond of Administrator Maris, and hovered at her sides like caring bodyguards, ensuring she remained comfortable as things progressed. Though Foster didn’t know who the baby’s father was, he decided it wasn’t either of them by observing their displays of affection for her. Both of them clearly regarded her with reverence rather than overt physical attraction. Even Councilor Klausen seemed genuinely concerned with her comfort, despite occupying a relative position where one might expect to see ambition or jealousy.
As for the administrator herself, it was easy to see why the others were so protective of her. She was gracious and attractive, elegant and considerate, yet clearly suffering from some undisclosed distraction. Whether it was her pregnancy, or the Marco Polo’s arrival, or the pressure of these negotiations, something was weighing heavily on her, as evidenced by the look of concern in her eyes. When she excused herself from the room for a moment, Foster questioned Olaf about her condition.
“How long has she held this office?” he asked.
“About two months now,” Olaf replied.
“So you elected her knowing full well she was pregnant?”
Olaf reacted to the question with surprise, as if he didn’t understand why the logic wasn’t clear. “A mother wants a safe, healthy world for her baby. Who better to make decisions about the future of her planet?”
The explanation left Foster stunned for a moment. Had they elected the administrator because she was pregnant? And if so, could that have been their sole consideration? From what he’d determined, though, she was actually quite intelligent. So perhaps her election wasn’t such a bad decision. Dr. Friedman was right about one thing, he mused. These people have a truly unique perspective.
When Administrator Maris returned to the room, Foster decided to ease up a little, having realized that his hosts were ill–prepared for these discussions. Toward the end of the session, it became clear to him that they wanted to read through his proposals in private so they might have a better understanding of what they should be asking. “Shall we resume these talks tomorrow?” he suggested. “That’ll give you a little time to look things over.”
“Thank you, Mr. Demming,” Administrator Maris replied. “I’m sure we’ll have many more questions for you then. Are you in need of accommodations for the night?”
Before he could answer the administrator’s question, a sudden movement outside the window caught his eye. At first glance he assumed it was just a large tree branch. But the shape and coloration didn’t seem to fit the pattern. A GIRAFFE, he realized in utter amazement. THAT is a LIVE GIRAFFE out there! Up until now, he hadn’t observed any animals since landing, nor birds, or even insects that he could remember. Just trees, and flowers, and all manner of plant life, which could easily have been grown from transported seeds. But here was a living, breathing example of a species that no longer existed on Earth. They did it! was all he could think for a moment. Somehow they were able to create a giraffe! The implications of this observation were staggering. If they had successfully recreated giraffes, what other kinds of animals might be present on this world?
“Mr. Demming?” Administrator Maris prompted.
“Uh ... no,” he responded, thinking back to her question. I won’t be needing accommodations tonight! He had no intention of staying any longer than he had to. All he could think about now was getting a message through to his wife. “I’ll be returning to the Marco Polo for the night. But I look forward to resuming our talks tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Administrator Maris said. “Shall I have Olaf escort you back to your shuttle?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’m reasonably certain I can find my way.” He shook hands with each of his counterparts, and hastily made his way to the exit. The outdoor heat hit him in a sudden wave, but he shrugged it off as if it were a cool summer breeze. As he bounded down the council chamber’s outer steps, he noticed he was feeling more limber than usual, and his mood reflected a sense of rejuvenation. He pulled out his wireless communicator and asked for Captain Reed as he walked across the plaza.
“How’s it going down there?” Captain Reed responded.
“It seems like things are progressing quite well,” Foster said. Around him, the residents of Base Camp One watched quietly as he made his way toward the airstrip. He heard the familiar sound of a tricycle behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to cast a friendly smile at Olaf’s son.
“How did they react when you explained your proposals to them? Does it look like they might require a little persuasion?”
“Well, understandably they have questions and concerns I’ll need to address. But I’m convinced I won’t even need the artillery.”
With Benevolent Friend fountain coming up on his right, he changed course to avoid the noise of cascading water.
&
nbsp; “Did you convince them to allow my survey crew to fly down? It would be helpful if they had a little time to acclimate themselves to the environment.”
Foster chuckled at the captain’s choice of wording. ‘Acclimate themselves to the environment’ clearly meant ‘gather intelligence.’
“No, Captain, we haven’t discussed that just yet. As a matter of fact, I’m on my way back to the shuttle right now, and we’ll be returning to the ship as soon as we have clearance for takeoff. I’ll fill you in on the rest of the details when I arrive.”
“Alright. Talk to you in a while, then. Captain Reed, out.”
Foster slipped the communicator back inside his pocket and quickened the pace of his footsteps a little. Before he knew it, it seemed, he was back at the shuttle, and was following Fletcher and Vought up the ramp.
“What’s the plan?” Fletcher asked him.
“Right now, we’re returning to the ship. We’ll come back tomorrow and resume negotiations.” He strapped himself in as Fletcher fired up the engines and began to swing the shuttle’s nose back around.
“Hey, look at that!” Vought exclaimed, pointing toward the tree line. “Something just moved underneath those trees!”
“I’ll be damned!” Fletcher said. “Those look like kangaroos to me.”
Foster laughed and shook his head in amazement. “This place is fantastic,” he said to the pilots. “As soon as the next ship is ready to leave Earth, I’m bringing my whole family here.”
“How long will that be?” Fletcher asked.
“Five or six months, I think,” Foster said. “Last I heard, there were two more ships under construction already. I guess someone was gambling they might turn a quick profit, assuming this planet turned out as expected. I’m gonna send my wife a message to book passage on one of them. You gentlemen might want to consider doing the same, before everyone on Earth finds out what this place is like.”
* * * *
In the Council Hall conference room, Administrator Maris was skimming through one of the contracts while Councilor Klausen looked through the other. Olaf was hoping they would leave fairly soon so he could get home and share the details of the meeting with his wife. Advisor Anderson had remained behind as well, in case the others had any questions for him.