Minutegirls

by George Phillies

  "As you have no response, Madam, other than the absurd proposal that democratic states should hide the facts from the people who own them, I do not object to adjournment," Kiethley said. It might take a while to determine if the Morbius group's innocent suggestions were bearing fruit. The FEU had screens, but their interplanetary commnet ensured that there had to be holes. Those holes allowed Americans to intercept European entertainment networks, networks which broadcast no news, but as had long been noted showed no biosculpted Europeans. Europe might screen itself, but large parts of the world were indeed open to American broadcasts. European tourists would do the rest. Kiethley had carefully bitten his tongue whenever the 'biosculpted Europeans' were mentioned. His superiors might believe that statement, but the combination of peculiar bodily forms and totally new technologies said to him that the FEU had some very new, very strange allies, from (though he would never say this aloud) truly far away.

  OFFICE OF THE COMMANDANT, STARFLEET EUROPA

  PARIS, FRANCE, EUROPEAN UNION

  1100 EU TIME 4 JANUARY 2176

  A harried Bernard Rohan slipped through his office door, Genevieve Villiers and Wilhelm Beyerlein in close pursuit. "Wilhelm," he said, "the usual, while I am at last having something for breakfast." He helped himself to a pair of croissants, a glass of orange juice, and a large cup of coffee. "Yes, I know I was late, and sent only the message that I would be delayed." He savored the orange juice. "But now I get a few moments to relax while we await Captain Dumont and other matters." He waited while Beyerlein's sniffers circled the room, looking for espionage devices.

  Dumont arrived a few minutes later, knocking politely before entering. "You sent for me, my Admiral?" she asked. "The Fleet Marines guarding your Suite said I was allowed to pass, while Genevieve's desk servile said I was to proceed to your office."

  "Enter. Help yourself to coffee. Sit. We have a serious challenge," Rohan announced. "I need your advice. A substantial challenge. I have spent the morning, not by plan, closeted with the President, the Chancellor, and the Secretary General, not to mention the Foreign Minister and the chief Intendants of the Q. It seems that the Americans finally received message torpedoes from Alpha Centauri, detailing what happened there a year ago. The Americans did not like what happened, and complained at Azores."

  "Happened?" Captain Dumont asked. "What happened a year ago?"

  "Happened," Rohan answered. And now we know, too, allowing that the Americans are being truthful. The Felifers gave us hints, but certainly not a full and detailed report. Given the topic and their interpretations, the alternative seems implausible. "A year ago November, the Felifers went back to Alpha Centauri. With the Gisbures. They had hundreds of ships, mostly Felifer singleships but also a squadron of Gisbures superlarge combatants. There was a battle. The Americans smashed them to bits. Apparently the Gisbures managed to withdraw not a single ship, while Felifer losses were well over 90%. Destroyed. The Americans presented our Azores delegation with detailed proof." He nibbled at his croissant. As he thought about matters, he would now have some pointed questions for his Felifer and Gisbures counterparts. And if this time the Gisbures were not forthcoming, he would emulate their attitude when it came to their requests for reinforcements in Proserpine.

  "This explains why the Gisbures stopped talking about liberating Alpha Centauri," Beyerlein said. "They take very poorly to any evidence that they are not invincible. It seems there is a lot of evidence."

  "It gets worse. It seems that the Americans did notice the delegates the Q has been sending to the Azores," Rohan resumed. "Delegations sent as usual under the cover of secrecy, so that none of us knew who was on any of them. Unfortunately, it was not that the Americans noticed because the Q stacked the delegations with beautiful young women such as present company, the better to distract chauvinist American hearts. No, they noticed that the Q sent along as a delegate...a Felifer. Worse, the Q has sent as delegates on different occasions at least two Bludgenappe, not to mention on another occasion something I cannot identify from its photograph, other than to say that it is certainly not any of the intelligent species that I can name."

  Beyerlein mumbled obscenities under his breath. “At least they didn’t send a Gisbures, not that the Gisbures would have agreed.”

  "Aren't our relations with extrasolar powers a secret?' Villiers said, not meaning it as a question. "I seem to recall an entirely new Security classification, for which the American delegation seems unlikely to have been given by the President and the Chancellor the appropriate clearances."

  "The Q ruled that since we do not report on our negotiations to the public, except for return of funerary remains, that negotiations were secret, and therefore it was appropriate to take along our foreign allies. The Americans were to see our vast alliances and be impressed," Rohan said.

  "You should at some point memorialize the President," Beyerlein said. "Remind him that the effectuality of this procedure can readily be determined, because our foreign allies were also seen by the neutral observers. The Q seems to have forgotten that the neutral observers also do not know about the foreign allies, so the Americans and the neutral observers should react in the same way to a Felifer ambassador. Were the neutral observers impressed?"

  "A similar issue was raised," Rohan said. "The Q's position is that the neutral observers are hired help, in our pay and in our pockets, not objective experts whose opinions are meaningful. At this point the President questioned pointedly the Intendants, determining that the neutral observers, the same two each time, had been completely baffled by our allies, but had been paid to omit this issue in their reports to their governments. Unfortunately, matters now become even more interesting. The Americans viewed the appearance of 600 warships in their other solar system not as an incident, but as an accident. An objectionable accident. Furthermore, they blame us, since it seems that the Q told them that Felifer starships are really mine."

  "What?" Villiers asked. "Wait. Didn't the Americans meet a Felifer at the Azores?"

  "When Azores had its first discussion of the first Alpha Centauri event, the Q took along a Felifer, and gave the Americans pictures," Rohan agreed. "Pictures showing that there had been a battle. The pictures included Felifer singleships being fired upon by Americans. But the Q has never told the Americans that they are seeing our foreign allies. The Americans refer to the Felifers and Bludgenappe as Union biosculpts. That should say something about American biosculpting technology, by the way. When the Felifers and Gisbures attacked, the Americans saw one big fleet, and concluded the Gisbures being lined up with the Felifers are yet more Union biosculpts, and the Gisbures ships are my ships. Of course, they have, I suspect, never actually seen a Gisbures, because it seems unlikely that even an American could look at a Gisbures, nod, and say 'biosculpt'. However, now the whole world is about to get to see if they agree with Americans." Rohan finished his coffee. "The Americans are about to broadcast television propaganda--something they have not done in this century--showing their films of the major battle, and their recordings of the Azores meetings. Including the meetings with a Felifer Union delegate, two Bludgenappe Union delegates, and a whatever-it-is Union delegate. Whatever? It seems that the Q has been in contact with several novel alien sentients, and has not even bothered to tell StarFleet that these other species exist, let alone what they are."

  "Where are the Americans broadcasting? Someplace we can record?" Dumont asked. "We can't completely trust it, but perhaps we finally get to see Gisbures ships in action?"

  "Someplace? Yes. Your home," Rohan answered. "My little chateau. Everywhere. The Americans are broadcasting these images at the whole planet from their orbital stations, using correct raster scans for each country. Apparently they started just after you all got to work, so you missed it. There will be hell to pay when the Germans in particular start hearing that the Q is biosculpting its delegates."

  "What did the Q think it was doing?" Villiers asked. "Don't they have any concept of operational security
?"

  "The President and the Chancellor asked the same questions," Rohan said. "Pointedly. I gather the Q assumed that the Americans actually knew what they were seeing, and that we were just reminding them of how many allies we have. The Americans are now hoisting us with our own petard by letting the cat out of the bag. And the President and the Chancellor get to tell the High Commissioner whether to announce that these extra delegates are biosculpts, in which case the Greens and Conservatives will go orbital, or announce that 'by the way, we are involved in an interstellar war, but not the one with the Americans that we made up', in which case the Social Democrats will be less than pleased. Neither of these outcomes is favorable to public tranquility. Mind you, no matter how careful we have been to tell our own fleet that the Spider ships are Americans and American allies, I don't see how that secret has lasted so long. Incidentally, no one appears to have any idea what the Americans actually believe is going on."

  "There has been rigorous compartmentalization," Beyerlein said. "And we really do not have joint operations with Felifer fleets, just with individual Felifer ships who provide detectors, and then only through ships having carefully screened battle management committees. But other than to shoot Wyvern conscript infantry, almost no one comes within a hundred thousand kilometers of our foreign allies, let alone the other side."

  "Bernard?" Villiers asked. "We may need to reconstruct. Do the Americans know that the Felifers and Bludgenappe are our allies? Or do they believe their bioconstruct claim? If the latter, they have a very different appreciation of the calculus of forces than we do. It's one thing if they learn we have powerful interstellar allies. It's a very different matter if they think we are the little continent across the ocean wasting enormous resources on building exotic biosculpts. The latter would make them less...cautious."

  "That is why I need advice," Rohan said.

  Chapter 25

  "The Deep Internet has given the world many secret books, encrypted volumes circulated where only a select few could find or decode them. Few of these volumes have been so thoroughly denounced as 'The MinuteBoy's Secret Guide to MinuteGirls'. In many of our 136 states, quoting at length from the volume in mixed company is covered by the Fighting Words Doctrine, a legal principle that begs one question: How does a MinuteGirl recognize quotations from this horrible book, which of course she would never consider reading?"

  ...James Fermat, Forbidden Arcana of the Net, Cosmopolis National Press, Cosmopolis, Washington 2135.

  WEST PORTICO

  HALL OF STATE

  ABRAHAM, LINCOLN, ALPHA CENTAURI

  June 29, 2176, 9:20 AM LST

  Abraham, Lincoln had been built on an isolated hill overtopping a wide, sweeping prairie. From the State Capitol building, one could see for mile after mile, looking at land that a century ago had been powdery sand and pale tan clay, but now was filled with grasses, prairie flowers, low shrubs and groves of elms and American chestnut. Early spring had brought the first flowers to full bloom. Sandra Miller had hoped to see one of Lincoln's expanding herds of yak and buffalo, but heavy rain and low visibility had come in the way.

  The start of her trip had been pleasant enough. She'd taken the subway to the Earth nexus of the Earth-Lincoln Pontefract tube, boarded a train, and been whisked in next to no time to Alpha Centauri. The Earth-Lincoln Pontefract tube had its Lincoln nexus buried in rugged mountains 300 miles west of Lincoln. The above-surface train ride to Lincoln gave a cascade of beautiful views she had had almost no time to appreciate. She had taken photographs to send to friends. She wrote prolonged letters to Arthur Smith, and received equally long ones back, but two totally impossible schedules meant that meeting each other in the past two years had turned out to be almost impossible, no matter how frustrating mentally and physically that was.

  "Miss Miller?" a male voice interrupted her reverie. "I'm Jonathan O'Brien, chief aide to Senator Meyer. The Senator sends his apologies for not meeting you personally, but there's an emergency meeting of the Joint War Committee."

  Sandra took the man's hand. O'Brien was middle-aged, round faced, with long brown hair bound in a top-knot. The hair style, Sandra thought, dated very closely when he must have gone to college. "Pleased to meet you. But you don't need to apologize for Chairman Meyer, who must be incredibly busy these days."

  "Indeed. And this is Zoltan Ahmad, my chief assistant." Ahmad had dark hair, blue eyes, and a toothsome smile.

  Sandra took his hand in turn. "Professor Morbius said I should try to meet both of you," she announced. "He said you would both pretend to be obscure behind-the-scenes types, but that sometimes clarity arises best from obscurity." She paused. Had the Musketeers truly been serious about the secret passwords? A remote observer would have been challenged to identify the quick gestures the two men made, thumbs and forefingers pressed together enclosing open air. Sandra gestured in response. "His three-and-a-trifle close friends also send their regards."

  "You've met Them?" O'Brien asked. "I tried to, when I was a Morbius Intern. Failed. Didn't know then how much that meant, or I'd have tried harder."

  "Gustaphson is very friendly," Sandra said. "But sometimes obscure." He had specifically instructed whose name to invoke if questions arose.

  "Probably the most astute man seen obscurely from a distance," Ahmad said. "He'll say something. If you ask him to explain, truly slowly, he will. He's very patient. You'll see what he meant. Eventually. If you think hard."

  "Gustaphson predicted the Incursion," O'Brien said, "Three decades early. Thought it was avoidable. No one listened."

  "Predicted? Avoidable?" Sandra asked. "Wasn't it automatic, the FEU being the way it is?"

  "That's what I told him," Ahmad said. "He explained. He said the FEU could have become a constitutional republic. It needed nudging. We didn't. That's historical, mid-late twentieth century. Instead, German and French bureaucrats grabbed power. Once they started funding pro-FEU political parties, banning parties that opposed the Union...well, they had officially free elections. You were free to vote for bureaucrats' friends. And the licensed press was free to report favorably on the bureaucrats' friends."

  "When he mentions the Incursion, he gets very sad," Sandra responded.

  "Understandable," O'Brien said. "He was almost 80 at the start of the Incursion. His political party -- the activist core -- was soon detained. They began winning elections, which proved they had corrupted the entire election process. How? By telling people about their ideas. For the FEU, political parties contaminating the political process by marketing their ideas effectively was a familiar theme. Their solution was standardized, previously used against political parties they didn't like in former Yugoslavia, Austria, and elsewhere. Gustaphson spent a winter in an unheated tent, escaped, and survived until life extension became available. His home was looted, turned into a PP barracks, and thoroughly vandalized. He tries to avoid stressing that he is one of the Republic's few physical centenarians."

  "I trust your trip thus far was pleasant," Ahmad said, "and perhaps eventually the rain will stop. Nonetheless, the political and military situation has changed rapidly in the last week. The Senator believes it is more important than ever that you talk with Kalinin personally, so that you can make the strongest possible case when you return to Morbius. The Committee spent the last week haggling with Schuykill, who has little use for the Imminent Danger clause, and got no place slowly."

  "I'd be delighted to meet Kalinin," Sandra said, "but isn't he out at the Clarksburg Warp Point?"

  "We'll send you there," Ahmad said, "Allowing that you have no objection to traveling out to him."

  "The Grand Commodore asked me to send you," O'Brien added. "There may be a shipping problem. The Southern and Northern arches are booked solid, and transport schedules are a bit chaotic. We could put you on with the Harbin Squadron, but they aren't due to ship out to the Point for another three weeks."

  "I see," answered Sandra. "I'd somehow thought your arches were seriously underused."
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  "They were," answered Ahmad. "Then we went to fleet maximum mobilization. Everything stored down here has to get up there, preferably last week. The shuttle capacity has almost entirely been moved out to Harding to deal with problems in the Versailles High Orbitals. At the moment, both arches are running at saturation, saturation attained by overloading the arches beyond passenger safety limits. The Senator instead commandeered an Armored Cruiser, The Sixteen, to take you to Versailles as soon as possible, following which you will take a private cutter to the warp point."

  "You aren't afraid of traveling by spaceship, are you?" asked O'Brien.

  "I'm a Phoenix Guard," responded Sandra. 'Commandeer a cruiser' was the cue even Grant would have caught. Diverting a primary capital ship from defense operations, simply to ferry her hither and thither, showed how her mission was viewed.

  O'Brien nodded knowingly. America had bred a different generation of young people. Phoenix Guards were fanatics of a particular sort.

  Sandra smiled brightly. "I'm ready immediately," she answered. "There's a servile with my luggage servots." An Armored Cruiser? And then her own cutter? The messages passed back and forth before Morbius sent her here referred to major changes in FEU operational tempos--across the Clarksburg Gate--and within the very last day to a large FEU deployment approaching the Gate Point. After that sighting, reconnaissance torpedoes sent through the gate had ceased to return. She was going to have to keep her eyes carefully open. She had just been handed an extremely expensive favor by people who had to be severely alarmed by the developing situation.

  "Very good. We'll have a flier in a few minutes. My scheduler has interlaced with your luggage, so all should be well. We estimate you would need two weeks with the fleet, on the Bellerophon, which is our largest warship. How is Earth doing?" O'Brien said.