by Ted Mayes
Turning, she was about to give him a piece of her mind, until she realized that he was taking something out of the bag he'd been carrying. It was some kind of shoulder holster apparatus that held two pistols of some sort, which, she had to admit to herself, certainly fit in with his cowboy image. Then he pulled out some kind of blue blazer and put it on. She felt a change in the people surrounding her, like someone important had just arrived, while her brain was trying to comprehend the stripes all over his arms. In mounting fury, she realized that this smug cowboy was some kind of corporate big shot in this 'company' and she'd probably just ruined any chance of getting the story that would make her career.
* * * * *
Michael could barely keep the smile off his face. He had to admit that she'd made the afternoon enjoyable so far. He should probably be properly sorry for tormenting her, but he'd decided that she was some kind of society girl trying to play at reporter, and with his background he couldn't help but take a great deal of pleasure in her frustration.
There were other things to do, however, and duty did call. Opening his bag, he got out and shrugged on his pistols and then his dress coat. As he pulled his orders out of his coat pocket, he reflected that all the stripes were at least psychologically heavy. He cleared his throat and began. “Samuel, give me the general channel.” A click in his headset let him know he was on, and he started reading.
“Attention to orders – From His Imperial Majesty, Adeodatus I, To Praetor Michael Edward Baxter – Dated Tuesday, August 10th, in the year of our Lord 1993 – On this date you are required to be present at Ostia, state of Missouri, USA, Terra, Solar System, at which time you will take up the burdens and duties of Imperial Consul. You will watch carefully over the administration of the Empire, ensuring that such tasks and activities under your command are successfully completed. You will guard the safety and lives of citizens and Latins at all times, and such foreigners and slaves as fall under your jurisdiction. You will ensure that Our Imperial Justice is impartial and unfailing, making sure that appropriate punishment is visited on those who deserve such. You will be equally as diligent in rewarding and honoring those who aid Us in the tasks that lay before us all, granting appropriate honors for their efforts, ideas and contributions to the Empire. You will hold yourself ready at any time to take on such future tasks and responsibilities as We will direct. May God bless your efforts and guide your actions. Given this first day of July in the year of our Lord 1993.”
He folded up the letter and put it back into his pocket. “You all may return to your current duties. Samuel, close the channel.”
Lieutenant Tom Mills stepped forward with a salute and then a handshake. “Congratulations, sir.”
“Save the formalities for formal events, Tommy, we've gone through too much for that. All I ask is that you don't scare the children.” Michael could see the society girl almost apoplectic with anger, which for some reason made him feel better.
“Then no formalities, you bloody, crazy washichun! What are you trying to do to me? A promotion? I thought we were friends.”
“I figured if the emperor was going to dump all this on me, you should catch some of it, too, brother. Besides, if I have to have praetorians, I wanted you to be in command.” It looked like the society girl was just about ready to explode, but before she could say anything, someone shouted “Watch out!” which was quickly drowned out by the roar of engines and tires.
* * * * *
Once the broadcast of the consul's orders had taken place, Jon had quietly directed their attention away from the consul and back to scanning the area. He'd done that just before the black vans he'd noticed began moving and Jon called out another warning. Time seemed to slow down, at least for Beth, as she watched the vans enter imperial territory, and brake to a screeching halt. Doors flew open and men jumped out and began running toward them – men who were armed, with AK-47's she slowly realized, men who began firing almost immediately.
In an automatic reaction, she realized that she had drawn her own pistol and was firing back as she felt some bullets whistle by her. Her senses were also telling her that the other guards were also firing and the explosion of noise was incredible. In next to no time, it seemed like it was all over. The attackers were all down and the veterans were at the vans, pulling the drivers out and kicking them to the ground. She could remember shooting at one or two people, but she certainly didn't want to think about that. She noticed that, across the way, Shawna was taking care of one of the codjits, Lal, she thought, so he must have been wounded.
Then she heard the consul bellow for a medic, and, following a nudge from Jon, she ran over there. The woman who had been causing the commotion before lay on the ground behind the consul with blood on her arm. She inspected it and decided it was only a shallow cut, and, breaking open her medical kit, she slapped a bandage on it and applied pressure.
By then, the consul was in total command and snapping off all sorts of orders. Her decury was to remain on watch, the older veterans were to search the … bodies … for identification. Troops who had hurried out to the scene were given charge of prisoners, and First was told to get interrogation started. Hospital personnel came to look out for the wounded, other soldiers were told to get the vans out of there and check the ownership records, the 'clean-up' crew was sent for. In the midst of all this, the consul, apparently seeing everything all at once, told Beth to take the woman to his quarters so she could recover and then return to duty. Jon nodded at her that he'd heard the command, and Beth moved off, keeping the pressure on the woman’s flesh wound. That, incidentally, was a good thing, because the woman still seemed to be stunned by all that had gone on, and she needed the guidance.
She finally got her down to the 'residence' and inside, although the most pleasing thing was seeing that her command “Publius, open up!” was all that it took to open the locked door. It definitely made her feel as if she were no longer a wet-behind-the-ears recruit, even though graduation had been only yesterday morning. Getting the woman inside, she took her into the barracks and helped her get her wounded arm out of her blouse so she could get it properly disinfected and bandaged. She helped the woman get her blouse back on and by then the woman was starting to get more agitated. Beth had no idea what to say to her so she said nothing and helped her lie back on Beth's bunk, ignoring all the questions directed at her.
She went back into the atrium, saw the stack of papers on table and quickly decided something needed to be done. She told Publius to begin recording. Then she went out into the mall and called Jon. “Jon, I've got the woman inside, at least I left her lying on my bunk, but I think a mistake has been made. With all those papers that have been delivered here, and a stranger inside, I had Publius start recording – I don't think the consul knows how much stuff has been piling up for him here. Did he really want me to come back up there?”
“I doubt it, Beth, but wait there while I check it out with First.” She took up her normal post at the door and waited only a very brief time before she heard him speaking again. “Beth, stay down there. Maria and Shawna will be down there right away and the rest of us will be there soon. You're optio till we get down there – oh, and you might want to know that First highly approves of your action in getting Publius to record.”
* * * * *
Amanda was beyond angry at this point. First, there was the debacle of screwing up this undercover assignment because of that stupid cowboy. Second, the stupid, jerk, cowboy was evidently some kind of VIP at this place. Third, because of him she'd found herself in some kind of gun battle and she was sure that some of those bodies on the ground were dead bodies. Fourth, because of him, she'd been shot! Fifth, her new silk blouse was torn and bloody now. Sixth, on the way here it became clear that this place wasn't an office building, it was a freakin' city. Seventh, not only was there a city up there, but a ride in an elevator had taken to another city below the first one. Eighth, the girl who'd brought her down here must have been a retarded foreigne
r, because she hadn't understood a single question – although she had done a fair job of first aid. Now Amanda was so mad and frustrated she could spit – no, that wouldn't be enough, she'd like to take a baseball bat to that cowboy.
She got up, still feeling a little light-headed, and left the room with all of the bunks. Stepping out into the big room, the first thing she saw was the table with its stacks of paper. She looked around carefully and, seeing no one, she crossed the room to take a look – maybe, she could still find enough information for an article. She kept part of an eye on the door and carefully listened for anyone returning, but she leafed through as many papers as she could. Some of them seemed to be in Latin which meant they were of no use to her. Some, though, were in English, but that didn't mean they made any more sense. Operation Ark. Operation Capital. Operation Columbus.
She chose several of the smallest reports, only one page each, carefully folded them and put them in her pants pockets – one she stuck in her underwear, almost giggling at the Mata Hari image that flashed through her mind. Then she moved as far away from table as she could and sat down. Her anger was mostly gone, now that she'd put something over on the cowboy. Truth to tell, none of the background she'd gotten for this story seemed to have any resemblance to reality. She had a feeling someone had pulled a nasty trick on her, and she would start making plans for payback as soon as she could. Now, if she could get away from this madhouse....
Some of the security people came through the doorway. Some of them sat down on the benches near the door, but others moved off down hallways that led somewhere else. Then the cowboy entered and came over to stand near her. “Are you all right, Miss …?”
“Wright, Amanda Wright. And yes, I'm okay now, or...” she glanced at her bandaged arm, “... at least I think so.”
“Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“No, with the events of this afternoon,” it took no effort to come up with a realistic shudder, “I think it's best if I just leave now.”
He gave her another one of those very intense looks. “Are you sure that's what you want to do?”
“Mr. …?”
“Baxter, Michael Baxter.”
“Mr. Baxter, I've already been shot here this afternoon. If I stay any longer, who knows what may happen?”
“You may be more correct there than you know. Well, if you insist on going, then at least I can escort you.” He led her back onto the 'street' followed by some of his older … 'bodyguards', she guessed. This time, though, he was gracious and even a little witty, not that it completely made up for him being a jerk before.
Eventually, they reached the inside of the gateway leading out to outside world. Before they entered that gateway, he stopped her with a light touch on her arm. “Miss Wright, I am sorry you got involved in that …,” he paused, seeming to find it hard to pick an appropriate word.
“Shooting? Bloodbath? Massacre?” she suggested with a smile and a sarcastic tone.
“Whatever it was, it was not intentional on our part. However,” he became very serious, almost threatening, “if some one were to try and intentionally remove items from these premises, it would be most serious, and I doubt that you would like the consequences.”
He knows, she thought to herself, he knows that I've got his papers stuffed in my pants. She tried very hard not to react to his statement at all. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
He looked at her solemnly, then waved her through the gateway, “If you're going to insist on that attitude.” They were both quiet walking under the wall and she thought with relief that she was almost home free. She was out in the sunshine again when she heard him say, “I'm afraid Miss Wright, that I have to have you arrested for espionage.” That was the last thing she remembered.
* * * * *
The consul came back to the residence without the woman, but Beth didn't hear what had happened for a while. The codjits had gathered in their barracks room for one of their group hugs and had then sat quietly discussing what had happened outside, and rejoicing that Lal wasn't hurt badly. They were still murmuring quietly when Jon's head came up, listening. Then he said, “Beth and Ari, you're with me – the boss wants to see us. The rest of you have free time till 2000 – then my squad has the watch and Ari's squad will have it at 2400 – decide how much rest you want and when you'll get it.”
He led them out into the atrium and they stood at attention before the table, which the consul sat behind, apparently using it as a desk. He looked up at them, set down the paper he was reading and leaned back in his chair. “I want you three to go over and 'interview' our 'spy.' I have three reasons for this. First, she's too incompetent to be a real spy. She couldn't have been given accurate information on us before she was sent to find out whatever she could. So, find out what her story is – she claimed her name was Amanda Wright, but her driver's license says Amanda Ochs.”
“The second reason is that you three have attracted some attention that indicates good things for your future. I'm telling you that, up front, because you will be under some close scrutiny in doing this 'interview.' At the same time, I'm also telling you to relax and be yourselves – the worst thing you could do is try to pretend to be something you're not. The third reason is that your preliminary testing indicates that you three rate high either in dealing with the law and government, or in dealing with foreigners. Since you were willing to risk your lives to protect mine earlier today, I'm interested to see exactly what you three are capable of doing.”
Beth didn't know about the other two, but she was so shocked that she didn't know what to say or do, but the pause in the consul's words seemed to call forth an automatic, “Sir!” from all three of them.
The consul went on. “You all will have access to the recording that Private Jordan ordered. And, although we don't have the information on it yet, it would seem our mystery lady has some connections. A request has been made to have a senior FBI agent be given access to her, and for a US State Department official to be granted a meeting. The FBI agent will be here within the hour and he can sit in on the interview, if you wish. Questions?”
Beth shook her head, but Ari came up with the first one. “Just what is the penalty for espionage under imperial law, sir?”
He looked at them steadily. “Execution, or, with mitigating circumstances, enslavement.”
“And is that enslavement permanent, sir?”
“You'll find from a study of imperial law, young man, that there is, legally speaking, always a possibility of self-rehabilitation and freedom.”
Jon had a couple of questions, too. “Sir, what information are we allowed to share in this 'interview?'”
He gave them the same steady look. “You may share whatever information you have, whatever you think is appropriate. And I will be interested to see what decisions you make.”
“Do we know who the attackers were, sir?”
“As best we can tell right now, they were, are, the Mukhabarat, the Iraqi Secret Service. They apparently didn't … appreciate ... the imperial participation in Desert Storm. Any more questions?” Seeing them shake their heads, he dismissed them and turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.
The three of them saluted and turned away. Jon murmured quietly, “You guys feel like getting some fresh air?” When they nodded, he led the way out to the street and they walked in silence to, and through, the gate. They moved off to one side and sat, leaning back against the wall, still silent.
Ari spoke first. “I never thought I'd say it, or hear someone say it, but I think I'd prefer being back in basic training, having the decurion yelling at us.”
Beth somewhat dazedly shook her head. “Did I hear him correctly? We're supposed to be deciding what information on the empire we can give out? We're supposed to be involved in an espionage law case that carries the death penalty? And big shots are going to be looking over our shoulders? I don't know if I can handle this.”
Jon grimaced. “It does seem j
ust a tad too much, especially after a noon-time gun fight. Maybe, if we thought of it as trying to help her avoid execution? George, send a copy of the recording you made of the consul's words to Beth's Molly and Ari's Yente. Beth, check that out to see if we are in a situation as scary as we think it is. You might also want to check the recording Publius made of this Amanda. Ari, check out what the consul meant by the reference to Desert Storm and the Iraqis. I'm going to check on what the imperial law actually says.” All three were busy, reviewing the data scrolling on the lenses of their goggles, and then sharing what they had learned with each other.
That continued until a dark car pulled up to the gate and a couple of men got out. Jon looked at the other two. With a sigh, they got up and went to meet the agent.
* * * * *
Amanda woke up and was disoriented at first. She was in a room, on a lower bunk. She had to think for a moment before the memories came flooding back – the cowboy, the gun fight, the documents she'd taken, the cowboy's last words. Quickly she checked her pockets. The documents were gone, even the ones she'd hidden in her underwear. Great, the cowboy not only knew what she'd done, he had the evidence as well. This must be some kind of jail cell – but a nice one. She wondered what the penalty for industrial espionage was.