by Ian Miller
* * *
The day of the first play arrived. It would eventually be available on demand through screens, but the first presentation was "live" at a great amphitheatre, where there were thousands of seats, all of which were filled. Gaius was a little concerned, because the images had been life-size, and in this huge amphitheatre the images would be lost. But he was wrong. The first image was amplified to such a degree that everybody would almost feel they were right up against the action.
Gaius was most impressed. He had had some part in the production, but what he saw was really due to Vipsania and Lucilla, and it was stunning. When the play was finished the crowd agreed with him. The first response was stunned silence, then there was applause, then as this got louder, the Terrans were invited to come forward.
Gaius had been made aware on more than one occasion that Lucilla's stay on Ulse had convinced her that Roman women were held as second-class citizens by their husbands. Gaius felt this was nonsense; the different roles merely reflected practicalities. However, those practicalities did not arise now, and as they walked forward he suddenly decided that he would hold back. Accordingly, when the two women strode to centre stage for applause, he remained at the side and applauded them. Eventually he was persuaded to go to the centre-stage but by this time, the acknowledgement had been made.
* * *
He later thought that this should earn him some sort of gratitude. It did not. When they were taken to the post-production celebrations, Lucilla ensured that Gaius was clearly in third place, and she and Vipsania did all the talking to the Ulsians present. As it happened, Gaius was only too pleased to be left out, but he was also aware that that was not the reason he was left out.
After they found out how much wealth they were accumulating, Lucilla pointed out over dinner that they could now do a much greater range of things.
"We still have to be careful, though," Gaius noted. "We mustn't irritate the Ulsians."
"Which, of course, you would never do with your opinions at those committees?" Lucilla countered caustically.
"I mean by what we do," Gaius replied. "We have been assured we can say anything we like at committees."
"That doesn't mean that anything said that's unpopular is free, though," Vipsania pointed out.
"I agree," Gaius said. "I'm trying to keep my comments logically sensible."
"What you really mean," Lucilla said, "is that you expect us to clear with you first before we do anything, and get permission from our superior, so to speak."
"I don't understand," Gaius shook his head.
"Roman men think they own Roman women," Lucilla said in a flat tone. "Well, here it's different."
"For goodness sake," Gaius shook his head, "I've never said anything to suggest that I own you two."
"Yes, but you think it," Lucilla smirked.
"Nonsense!" Gaius shook his head
"But you still want us to check in first?" Lucilla pointed out.
"We have to act in unison," Gaius countered, a touch of frustration now showing through.
"And you think you're better than us, despite the fact that it's our money?"
"That's not correct," Gaius started.
"It is," Vipsania interrupted. "We actually earned the money. I know you tried, dear, but really, most of your efforts had to be redone."
"What I meant," Gaius said with a touch of anger, "is that I don't think I'm better than you . . ."
"So," Lucilla smirked, "you'll clear your actions with us instead?"
"I concede that you have earned all that money," Gaius said, as he struggled to suppress his feelings. He knew that this was not going to be a winnable argument, "although how many opportunities you'd have had without my steam engine is an interesting question."
"So you think that gives you the right to stop us doing . . ."
"I've never tried to stop anything so far," Gaius said. "If you're going to criticize, you might at least wait until there's cause!"
"Let's stop this," Vipsania interrupted. She realized that Gaius was starting to get increasingly angry, and that Lucilla was venting accumulated self-pity. The problem was, she realized, they still had to live with each other. "You're both right, and you're both wrong."
There was a silence as the two Claudians stared at her.
"You're both right about what you think about yourselves," Vipsania explained, "and you're both wrong about what you think about the other." She paused, and turned to Lucilla and said, "Like it or not, we should at least let Gaius have his say. He's the one that's got a better grasp of the strategic aspects, and you, Gaius, should give Lucilla a freer hand."
"I've no intention of stopping her doing anything," Gaius shrugged. "For what it's worth, I've never been able to anyway."
"Then why are you going on like this?" Lucilla frowned.
"Because if we want to get back to our planet, we've got to be careful."
"We'll never manage that," Lucilla said. "They simply won't let us go."
"Maybe not," Vipsania said soothingly, "but we shouldn't give up."
"Yes," Lucilla shrugged, and added in a flat tone, laden with sarcasm, "Let's keep the dream alive."
"It may be a hopeless dream," Gaius replied softly, "but it's our dream."
* * *
Over the next few weeks, both Lucilla and Vipsania found themselves to be stars, a concept they had great difficulty in coming to grips with at first, but they soon became very pleased with themselves.
As the production of the next play commenced, Gaius suddenly stopped making an appearance at the production set.
"You're not . . . er . . . upset, are you?" Vipsania asked one evening, after they had had a meal during which very long silences were mainly interrupted only by requests for some item.
"No. At least, not in particular," Gaius shrugged. He had been deep in thought, and he had not really emerged to consider the question.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Well," Gaius said, as he suddenly realized he had to say something sensible, and something better than asking them what the problem was. "I suppose I still wish I were back on Earth, but there's nothing novel about that. Why? What's wrong?"
"Well, I just wondered why you're not paying us more attention," Vipsania said, with a touch of bitterness. "You could show a bit more interest."
"As to why he's not interested, that's easy," Lucilla chipped in. "We're better at it than him, so like a spoiled brat, he's packed up his stuff and gone elsewhere."
"What?" a bemused Gaius asked.
"You can't stand us being better at something than you are, can you?" Lucilla said with almost a touch of triumph in her voice.
"What are you talking about?" Gaius asked.
"You haven't been out on the set lately," Vipsania said in a flat tone.
"He's just waiting around to spend the money. He thinks he's back in Rome where we did all the work and he spends −"
"I don't think that stands up," Gaius said with a touch of anger. "I don't recall your doing an awful lot of work. Work involves more than instructing slaves."
"Please," Vipsania intervened, "let's not fight."
"You're right," Lucilla said. "I'm sorry. I'm sure my brother has a really good reason for not showing any interest."
"Just tell us why haven't you been on the site?" Vipsania asked, her voice still laden with irritation. "What have you been doing?"
"I've been too busy," Gaius explained.
"Busy? How can you be busy?" Vipsania gave him a dazed stare. As she remarked later, on Earth she would have thought this must be an outright lie, a clear indication of his being off with another woman. Here, that was unlikely.
"I've been invited to be some sort of expert at one of those discussions you've watched on the screen from time to time," Gaius grinned.
"An expert?" Vipsania snorted. "What on?"
"The war," Gaius shrugged.
"The war? What do you know about that?"
"Not enough," Ga
ius replied. "That's why I've been busy. I've been trying to find out what I can."
"Then why do they want you?" Lucilla asked in a bewildered tone.
"Why not? There's nothing actually wrong with me," Gaius snorted.
"Well, by your own admission, you don't know much about it. That hardly makes you an expert."
"More to the point, how did they get around to asking you?" Vipsania asked, her tone now quite puzzled. This did not seem to make sense. "Even if you did know heaps, it's hard to imagine that they'd ask for your opinion."
"It was a bit of an accident. There was some sort of argument about the war going on outside the library," Gaius explained. "I've learned enough Ulsian I could follow what they were saying, more or less, so I chipped in and told them what I thought."
"And what was the result? They all picked on you?"
"Stunned silence," Gaius smiled. "It's all to do with these wretched behind the throat rumbles."
"What Gaius actually said was incomprehensible," the Tin Man intervened with an explanation. "The words approximated to an explanation of why desert plants are unsuitable for constructing bridges, with mechanical cakes likely to be the next infection thrown in."
"So that was why he became an instant expert?" a bemused Vipsania asked. "He dazzled them with incomprehensibility?"
"I asked him what he was trying to say," the Tin Man explained in his usual unflappable way, "then I translated for him. I might add that since he was addressing two Ulsian generals, this went down quite poorly. However, the third person there was a producer, and after all the heat subsided, he could see the making of a program."
"So I got invited, so I thought I had better get some facts," Gaius explained.
"This program will certainly be interesting," Lucilla remarked dryly. "A must see!"
Chapter 16
The producer himself came to collect Gaius, who had been waiting for some time, and had suddenly become nervous. Command in the field had been straightforward. He knew what his forces could do, he knew what he knew about the enemy, and he made rational decisions. He had been successful.
The problem was, he had been successful on another planet, in another age. Suddenly he had to transfer his experience to a civilization so far advanced . . . Perhaps his experience was useless now? Yes, he had read a lot, and was possibly more familiar with some of the battles from millions of years previously than the generals, but would that help?
The producer stared at him for a moment, then gave a grunt of disgust. "You must wear full dress uniform!"
"Full dress uniform is back on Earth," Gaius shrugged. "I suppose we could go and get it if you could manage the transportation," he added with another shrug.
"Full dress uniform is in this box," the Tin Man offered. "Timothy took it just in case your meeting with Vespasian required formality."
"I see," Gaius remarked. "The Gods alone know how the soldiers will react to seeing me dressed in that."
"They will realize you are hardly ordinary," the Tin Man offered. "The coronae, hastae purae and vexillae look quite special, and it is reasonably obvious that no army is going to give all of those to just anyone."
"I see," Gaius said, for want of something better to say. He was unsure what effect these would have on the viewers, but there was nothing much he could do about this. Clearly the producer and the Tin Man had made all the decisions.
"I have also had everything polished," the Tin Man said proudly. "You will look very impressive."
There was no suitable answer. Gaius thanked the Tin Man, then began to dress. He paused as he stared at the silver finned boar, and a terrible wave of nostalgia struck him as the faces of the soldiers of the twentieth passed before his eyes. Even the fool who had fallen flat on his face in the mud trying to free his cart. He finished dressing.
When he arrived at the studio, there was much toing and froing, there was a lot of activity, but not a lot seemed to be achieved. Gaius decided that with all this chaos, nothing would happen this evening, but on that he was wrong. Eventually he was placed in a chair, an Ulsian appeared from nowhere with a large brush and brushed his face, what he was told were cameras appeared from all directions, then retreated. Then, suddenly the producer stepped forward, said something, and suddenly the set was emptied of all but those officially part of the interview.
The programme began with introductions of the participants. There were a number of Ulsian generals/admirals present, and their histories were read out. Most had impressive records of peacetime commands of this or that unit, but most had no battle experience. There was also one other alien, Admiral Merly, a Krothian. He was dressed in all encompassing "overalls" with strange silvery symbols, which were presumably symbols of rank, placed halfway down the arms and across the chest. The only visible parts of the creature were a face covered with incredibly dense hair/fur and a pair of quite delicate hands. This alien also had never seen battle.
Then Gaius was introduced, and to his embarrassment the decorations were described. Those of rank were indicated, and the rest described as the rewards of victory, of battles won −
"Of blood spilt," one of the Ulsians remarked caustically.
"On the contrary," the announcer remarked, "if you see this one," and the 'temple' decoration was highlighted, "this was awarded for acting on behalf of his government and independently and successfully negotiating a peace thus avoiding a general revolt which would have been very bloody."
Gaius was surprised to see the effect this had on the other participants. As he was told later, none of them had ever had the right to negotiate treaties in the event conflict had arisen, and this made his rank seem even higher. Gaius was never to tell anyone that 'authority' had not been the issue; he had done what he felt to be right, and had hoped it would stick.
The program then commenced properly with an explanation of what had happened, of how the M'starn had launched a surprise attack, how they had driven into the Ulsian domain, leaping across star systems and restricting themselves to capturing certain planetary systems. Initially, the element of surprise had been total, and the forces were overwhelming, hence the first two planets effectively collapsed without mounting any defence whatsoever. A fraction of the force remained to defend that planet, while the rest surged on to the next target, with fractions of the fleet sweeping the space free of Ulsian warships that could otherwise remain as a source of guerrilla attacks.
As they penetrated further, defences began to be mounted, but the attacking fleets had such overwhelming superiority that resistance did not last. Accordingly, the war front had advanced towards Ulse at a velocity that was approaching significance in the relativistic sense.
It was then that the first real confrontation occurred, when a small M'starn fleet ran into a somewhat larger Ulsian fleet. In the following encounter the enemy suffered significant damage and the Ulsian ships were able to retreat more or less intact. At this point the frenetic pace of the invasion was halted, at least temporarily. Decades passed, as the enemy appeared to consolidate, and during this time, a limited number of other inconsequential engagements occurred.
It was almost as if the invasion had run out of steam, however recently the sequence had started again. A wave of M'starn war ships had descended on the third star system from the previous "front". An Ulsian fleet had been assembled, and was undergoing training in preparation for a return sortie, when a wave of enemy ships passed at almost light speed. These ships discharged a sequence of cloaked "smart" mines; huge explosive devices that were attracted to ships by nothing more than enormous magnetic fields that locked onto the fields from the warships propulsion systems. Half the Ulsian fleet was destroyed before it even knew what hit it. Many of the others were rendered virtually inoperable and the only ones undamaged were those that, for one reason or another, had their motors off and hence were not generating fields. As soon as the attacking wave passed, the few remaining undamaged Ulsian ships powered up and fled. Shortly later a small invasion force arrived a
nd accepted the planet's surrender.
Gaius pricked up his ears at this description. A small invasion force had arrived. Given that the main fleet had already passed, what would have happened if the undamaged Ulsian ships had stood and fought? It was almost as if the enemy knew enough about the Ulsians to predict what they would do. Either that, or they had great faith in the initial attack, because if the description was correct, the main enemy fleet had continued at almost light speed, and would never find out about failure of the exercise until it finally stopped. A success here could have given the Ulsians a base for a few hundred years without an enemy response.
The enemy proceeded on to take another military base, deeper into Ulsian space, and intelligence, such as it was, suggested that further waves were coming. The problem was, what to do? A small panel of Ulsian military experts had been assembled, together with the two aliens. Gaius tried to smile at this other alien, but was rewarded with what he assumed was a look of disdain.
Gaius felt sorry for the first Ulsian general who was trying to explain how a major fleet was destroyed in a surprise attack. In principle, you should never be surprised at war, but in practice surprise was a major feature of an attacker's armoury, and new ways to achieve it were always being sought. It was also particularly easy to be surprised when you were unaware that there was even a war going on.