by Ted Mayes
She was sitting on a bench in front of the residence, her mind still whirling, at 1345. She'd been thinking about what questions she had for Baxter and possible future articles to be written, when she found herself shocked by what she was doing. She must be getting acclimated to the imperial world, she realized, because, without a second thought, she'd been dictating her thoughts to Samuel – and he'd promised to have hard copies of her lists on her desk long before she returned. She now understood Beth's comment this morning about using something without knowing how it worked, because she now she was using Samuel without having a single idea of what a 'semi-sentient computer' was or how it worked.
The 'youngsters' as Michael called them, began forming up outside the residence and she got up and walked over to them. They were a diverse group, she thought as they were waiting, but eager and friendly. Sadly, for some reason they made her feel old, or maybe it was just she'd gotten too cynical.
“Still freaked out?” the sergeant asked. It took her a second to get her brain going again, but it was easy to identify him – he was the “Jon” that Beth seemed to have an interest in, although she was pretty sure neither one was aware of what others could see.
“Not quite as bad as I have been during the last couple of days. Would you believe that it's worse when I have to deal with Baxter.”
He gave a short laugh. “Well, it's obviously an unusual relation, with strong feelings involved.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Aside from the fact that he bought you for, if you'll excuse me, a ridiculous amount of money and neither one of you seem to like the idea? How about the fact that you seem to be afraid of him, until you start talking – then you give the impression that you're ready to rip his head off, which, incidentally, he thinks is quite funny, because, if you don't mind me saying so, I don't think you have a chance of causing him any injury.”
“Why?”
“Maybe you should ask the First some of those questions.”
She was going to say something, though she wasn't sure what it would be, but she stopped herself because Baxter was coming out of the door. He started down the street and motioned for her to walk with him. He asked her how her 'project' of publicizing the empire had gone, and she told him what had happened so far. They walked in silence for a few moments, and Amanda found herself pondering the situation she found herself in. Only a few days ago, she had been hoping to sell a story on her own – and had been spectacularly unsuccessful. Now, some people thought she was going to be 'successful', and it felt like it was all a gift, nothing she had earned.
“Why are you, and the emperor, doing all this - setting me up to sell stories about the empire?” She felt rather proud that the question came out fairly coherent and calm – the way her emotions were rolling around, that felt like a significant achievement.
“The emperor's doing it because he decided it was time to stop 'hiding,' if I can use that term – at least hiding from publicity. As for me, like I said before, I'm responsible for you being here, so, in some way, I feel like I owe you. Besides, as the emperor said, your stuff is good.”
Amanda muttered under breath, “Why didn't anyone notice it before?” Seeing Baxter's smile, she quickly went back to questions, “You don't think I had something to do with my situation?”
“Only because I put you in a situation that you had a decision to make – otherwise you would never have gotten close to the residence and piles of documents.”
Thinking of future stories, she asked, “What kind of information will I have access to in the future?”
“As my slave, you'll accompany me wherever I go and will be able to see everything that I see. If, in the future, you decide you want to distribute some video, check with Samuel to see if the video is available and either ask me or Mary Chen, the foreign praetor, about whether it can be used. If you have questions, ask one of those three – me, Samuel, or Mary – and we'll see about answering. I'll tell you right now that you won't get any explanations about technology, how stuff works. That's only partly because the stuff is secret – my skills are military, Mary's are diplomacy and negotiation, so we probably don't know how or why things work.”
By this time, they had entered a building on the Via Schola, one with 'Aventinus' emblazoned over the door and entered an elevator. “What are we going to see now?”
“A farm,” was all Baxter would say as the elevator descended.
She quietly arranged for Samuel to record what they would see and tried to remain in the background, quietly dictating notes for herself to Samuel. They left the elevator and entered an underground tunnel that led off into the distance, with doorways going off to the right and left, spaced quite a ways apart. They went through the nearest right hand doorway and she found herself standing in huge, brightly lit room, with plants growing out of the ground. Bending down, she dug a little hole with her fingers – as far as she could tell, the plants were growing, underground, in ordinary dirt.
She noted snippets of conversation even though they didn't mean anything to her. Ten acre fields. Cross connected into farms of 160 acres with two fields designated for woodlot and pond. Averages of 95 degrees and CO2 at almost 2000 ppm. Up to three planting seasons. Averages of 450 bu/acre for corn and 200 for winter wheat. All programs functioning well and versions 1.0 ready for production.
They looked into a number of different rooms, rather, fields, and each seemed to have some different kind of plant growing it. One had trees growing there and the guy leading the tour said something about the soil being deeper in that field and the roof higher. Another had a beautiful pond set in the middle of wildflowers.
Baxter mostly listened but at the end of the tour he did have several questions. “Are you set up and ready for a lot of interest, a lot of questions?”
“We think so, sir, but we have no idea how big the interest will be.”
“Are you ready to process applications?”
“Same answer, sir, we think we're ready, but how fast all this will go depends more on the construction crews at Capitol and transporting the seeds than anything else.”
“Well, you've done well. We'll know more about what kind of a beehive we've kicked over by next week. Thank you for the tour – it's time to move on to the next project.”
As they headed back to the elevator, Amanda asked, “How far underground are we?”
Baxter replied, “About five or six hundred feet underground.”
Amanda gave out a low whistle of appreciation. “Some of the details were a little beyond me, but a functioning farm that far underground is really something. Would you say that's the future of farming?”
“At least in some places.”
“Where to next?”
He grinned. “We're going to see the Enterprise.”
Amanda was a little confused by that, but she had more than enough to do. She had Samuel replay her notes and do a little research, and made notes for her next article. An apparently functioning farm five hundred feet down – definitely unusual. Increased carbon dioxide in the air, almost five times normal – that would bring an angry response from environmentalists. Unusually high crop yields – that could either bring howls of anguish from economists and speculators, or quite a bit of interest from farmers.
She was still mentally planning her article when they arrived at their next destination, and she was sorry that she hadn't paid more attention where they were going. They stepped out of a corridor and found themselves on a balcony overlooking a large 'airplane' hanger, a hanger that had a large 'pit' to one side. A hanger, maybe, but the thing sitting on the ground wasn't an airplanes. How to describe it, Amanda wondered to herself – the only thing she could think of was that it looked like a very small version of the 'star destroyers' from the Star Wars movies, and that made no sense. She found herself left behind as Baxter headed toward the 'thing' and she hurried to catch up, making sure that Samuel was recording this.
They walked out on a walkway to the '
ship' (if that's what it was) and entered through a small chamber (an air lock?) at the back of the ship. There was a youngish man standing there who greeted them with a cheery “Welcome to the Enterprise, Consul.”
Baxter smiled. “Thank you, but wasn't Captain Kirk supposed to be on hand?”
The young man, whose name tag read 'Wagner', laughing, replied, “I suppose no one sent him an invitation, but I'm sure he'll be here sooner or later. I've stationed the crew around the ship so they can explain things to you – one on the upper deck, one on the lower deck, one in the floater bay and one in crew's quarters. We're happy to have you here to inspect, Sir.”
“Now why do I think you're really happy to get this over with so you can take off, Lieutenant?” Baxter said, getting a grin from the young man.
They made a quick tour, but, again, Amanda was more than a little confused by the whole situation. The back of the ship's main deck looked like a combination commons and kitchen. At the extreme end of the ship, on the other side from where they had entered, was what looked like a small garage with a large 'sled' in it – at least she assumed it was a sled because she couldn't see any wheels. Leading toward the front of the ship was a narrow hallway with five 'staterooms' to one side or another, nice-sized bedrooms roughly fifteen feet by twelve.
They weren't allowed in what was probably supposed to be the cockpit, but she was able to use a built in ladder to go through the hatches to the upper and lower decks. They were long and narrower than the main deck, but they were also filled with all sorts of containers and boxes. Amanda pinched herself several times and she kept touching things, just to make sure they were real. She had poked her nose into everything she could when Baxter told most of the youngsters to return to the balcony, and 'suggested' that Amanda go down to the floor of the hanger and check the outside of the Enterprise.
She did so, once again touching or rapping everything she could lay her hands on, and for the same reason, to convince herself that she was really seeing this. She even took the opportunity to get a rough estimate of the size of the thing – roughly fifty feet long, forty wide and she guessed about thirty high. When the call came for her to return to the balcony, she was trying to assess her own mental condition. As far as she could tell, she was awake and experiencing these things, but everything felt disconnected, as if she had nothing to compare all these things to. It was a disconcerting feeling to say the least.
By the time she was back on the balcony, the door to the Enterprise was closed and the walkway had been retracted. Amanda heard Baxter say, “Samuel, please check with Fleet to make sure that the regional air controllers have been notified.”
No answer was heard from Samuel, but a loudspeaker in the hanger responded, “They have been notified, sir.”
“Then you may proceed, Fleet.”
“Sir,” the speaker responded. “Lieutenant Wagner, you may assemble your squadron and begin your task. God go with you!”
The Enterprise rose slowly, and, completely silent, floated out of the hangar, followed by a similar ship rising silently from the pit, and another, and another, and so on, until six ships had left without noise. Only then did Amanda notice the noise of wild cheering coming up from the pit, celebrating the departure of the squadron. Baxter announced that it was time to return to the residence, because there were preparations to be made – tomorrow was going to be busy.
Amanda looked at him with a great deal of disbelief. “Could things be busier?” she asked.
“Would you like to make a small bet about it? For the first time eyes have seen ships rising from Ostia and radars will see where they are headed. I would imagine Mary Chen is going to have a very busy day, and I'll also bet you will be contacted by a number of people. Besides, we're taking a little trip tomorrow, and you don't want to miss that.”
Little was said on the way home, but it struck Amanda very forcibly that she was starting to think of the residence as 'home.' One thing she did recognize was that it was somehow 'comforting' to walk down the Via Emporia – it felt like something normal that she could easily recognize. They were getting close to a smörgåsbord place when she heard Sergeant Harrison say something about a celebration. Baxter replied quietly and Harrison left the procession briefly, and when he returned, jogging, he quietly said, “They'll deliver a couple of cases for supper.”
Before they got back to the residence, Samuel was informing her that a number of people had left messages for her, many of them wanting her to call back ASAP. Most were friends, from TV or print companies, though some had low-level government jobs. She decided to get back to them when she could, but there were two things she decided to handle before supper. One task was trivial, but pleasant, just because it was well within her capabilities and understanding. A menu for the next day had been delivered – she found a place to post it in the kitchen and checked with Samuel that only the praetorians would be at the residence for lunch. She marked that on the menu and had Publius announce to the household where the menu was – and that they should only sign off if they didn't want to eat what was being offered.
Then she returned to her room and returned a call to Agent Reynolds. While she waited for the phone call, she laid down, surprised at how tired she was.
“Miss Ochs, is that you?”
“Sure, Agent Reynolds, what can I do for you?”
There was some hesitancy in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
“Are you alone? Can you talk?”
“Well, I'm alone in my room, but if I were you, I'd assume that these guys can see everything you've got on your desk.” Just then a holograph of the agent sitting at a desk in an office sprang into view before her eyes. “No, Samuel, I didn't want to see that!” The view winked out of existence. “Sorry about that. Your kids are cute, though.”
“My kids?”
“The pictures behind you. On a bookshelf? I tried not to look, but Samuel flashed a view of your office in front of me without asking.”
There was a brief moment of silence. “And who is Samuel, Miss Ochs?”
“That's my …, Michael Baxter's 'clerk' – according to him, he's a 'semi-sentient computer', whatever that means.”
There was another moment of silence. “I suppose it's not possible for you to leave and come here?”
“No,” she said with a small shudder, remembering her attempt to 'test' the limits earlier … today? Had that really been this morning?
“Would it be possible to talk to you there some time tomorrow?”
Samuel threw a message up on the wall in front of her. “Well, we're taking some kind of trip tomorrow morning, but we'll be back late afternoon. Samuel suggests you and your wife come for dinner?”
“My wife?” The astonishment was plain in his voice.
“You'll have to check with your wife, I know, but you can call back and leave a message. If that's all for right now, it's been a long day, and I want to get a good start on the next story.”
“Miss Ochs, before you go, can I ask what you did today?”
“Sure, let's see. I got up, had a hot bath and a late breakfast. I delivered $100,000 in gold coins, had a tour of Ostia, was appointed the official, or semi-official, source of information about the empire, visited a farm five hundred feet below ground and watched six 'ships' of some kind take off. Now I've got to decide what story to write.”
“You watched six … ships … take off?”
“Yes, I think I've got video of the farm and the takeoff, but I haven't reviewed that yet, so I don't know what it looks like yet.”
“Miss Ochs,” he said slowly, “would you mind if I brought someone else with me, to dinner, that is.”
Another message from Samuel flashed on her wall. “Samuel's giving me a message from my … from Mr. Baxter. You and your wife are invited to dinner. Any official diplomatic contact should go through the Foreign Department praetor, the equivalent of the Secretary of State, Mary Chen.”
“Thank you, Miss Och
s. My wife and I will be most interested to dine with you tomorrow.”
“Okay, see you then, bye.”
She got up and began pacing, glancing at the hard copy of her notes. How do I start this story off? She jotted down the first sentence and the words started flowing – 'Today I saw the future of farming.'
6 – August 1993
Amanda decide that one thing she really didn't like about the empire was their cheerful attitude early in the morning. From talking to Beth, she guessed it had something to do with getting up at 4:30 AM during basic. She shuddered, taking a sip of the hot coffee that was slowly waking her up. She checked her new leather shoulder bag. Mi... Baxter had given it to her last night, filled with the legal pads she liked to write on, and had suggested that she bring it with her this morning, on this mystery trip.
The First was in the kitchen and talking to her before she realized he was even in the room – must be some kind of requirement for imperial officers, she thought grouchily to herself – lesson 101 in how to sneak up on people.
“You probably want to have something to eat before you leave,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Where you're going, the food is limited.”
“Great, another man who likes to be mysterious!”
He laughed. “No, we're just not going to influence you by announcing things in advance. You'll see what you see, and then you can ask questions.”
“Okay,” she said, dishing up some breakfast, which looked like some kind of scrambled egg hash, “then, Sergeant Harrison said that you were the one to ask about … the consul. Something along the lines of how tough he is, or something.”
The First looked at her without speaking for a moment. “'There, you'll just have to make do with my opinion. Mike's a warrior, and a gifted military thinker.”
“If I knew some martial arts, would I be able to take him on?”