by Ted Mayes
“I'd say that depends on whether you wanted to be in one piece after the attempt. I've seen him sparring with some SAS and Seals and he seemed to do alright against them.”
It took a second, to swallow some food, before she could speak again. “Last night, you called the consul a name, 'mat-' something. What was that?”
“Mathohota? It's part of his Lakota name – it means 'grizzly bear'.”
“He's Lakota?” she asked in surprise.
“No, but he married a Lakota, my sister. I guess you could say he was unofficially an honorary Lakota.”
She had a hazy memory of someone, maybe even the First, telling her that M..., that the consul's wife had died. “Didn't someone tell me she was dead?”
“Yes, she was killed about twelve years ago.”
“I'm sorry for your loss. Were they ever able to find and punish you sister's murderer?”
“Oh, yes, they were punished.”
Amanda shivered, not only because of First's tone of voice, which she could only identify as being full of a joyful cruelty, but also because of the expression that passed over his face, an expression that seemed to say that the punishment was much more than she could imagine, but that he'd enjoyed every bit of it. Hearing a shout that it was time to go, she said goodbye, jumped up and hurried out, thankful that First wasn't mad at her.
The procession was lining up outside the residence, but there was a difference today. Half of the youngsters, led by Sergeant Harrison, were in front of … Baxter … and the rest behind with Corporal Levi at the end. She gave Baxter a quizzical look and gestured with her hand to indicate the new arrangement.
He shrugged and said “The emperor said that I was supposed to have a bodyguard, not lead a parade, so Tommy came up with this idea.”
As they moved off, she thought of a question she needed to ask. “What am I supposed to call you?”
He chuckled. “Are you talking about those unprintable names for me that you've been using in your thoughts, or something more G-rated?”
Amanda hoped she wasn't blushing, but hopefully it didn't matter, since he wasn't looking at her. “My thoughts aren't unprintable, ... well, not exactly.”
He laughed. “I'm sure it would be interesting to see how close to unprintable they are.” They walked on for a few moments. “When it's just the two of us or the family, and by that I mean our 'guards', you can call me 'Michael' – if it's in public, or on official business, then call me 'Sir.'” He raised his voice slightly and said, “Did you hear that, Jon?”
Sergeant Harrison answered, “With your permission, Sir, my troops and I will use 'Uncle Mike.'”
Michael chuckled again and said quietly, “He's always been something of a brat.”
Amanda looked quickly at him, not wanting to think about what she was feeling, thinking of him as Michael. “Do you mean you've known him for a long time?”
He looked at her seriously. “Off the record? In fact, so far off the record that you never mention it?”
She nodded, then said emphatically, “Off the record!”
He spoke so quietly that she had to move closer to him and lean in to catch what he was saying. “I've known him since he was a toddler – and when he was young, he called me 'Uncle Mike.'”
“So you've known his parents for a long time, as well?”
He shook his head. “I will try not to talk about people you haven't met yet – partly to protect people's privacy, which may be in short supply in the near future, and partly because you're supposed to see and experience on your own, not be given a lot of second-hand opinions.”
Amanda could clearly tell that Michael was not eager to continue on this particular subject. They'd come top-side and were walking down the Via Emporia. “Well, that's off the table for discussion, and you won't tell me where we're going this morning. So, you just said you're expecting a lack of privacy in the near future. Care to tell me why?”
“Well, shall we say that during the last nineteen years there has been a desire about information about the empire, a desire that has so far been unfulfilled? Said desire led to someone feeding you a story that we were just a simple security company with ties to the mob – and that all you had to do was waltz in here and get a job as a secretary in the president's office. Sound familiar?”
“Granted, that the editor was either ignorant or lying and I didn't know what I was getting myself into.”
“Okay, now let's just consider the farm we looked at yesterday. What was your impression?”
“First thought, it was beautiful. But second thought was that it was impossible, because it was so far underground. Then, if I understood correctly, the yields were astronomical, which makes it more impossible. All in all, I would guess that there would be a lot of, let's call it 'controversy' – people saying it couldn't be real, others complaining that you're destroying the planet, still others demanding to know how you did it, or that you didn't do it their way, and I guess others would just want to get in on the ground floor, somehow.”
They had reached the end of the Via Emporia, stopping before before large doors with 'Portus Classis' on them, 'fleet harbor' her mind translated automatically. “Samuel, begin recording,” Michael said. “You'll be glad to know that the best imperial thinkers agree with you, except they feel you might be underestimating the fuss. Now, add one more thing to the equation – what if the emperor offers farms like those, on a perpetual lease, at 6 pennies, about $25-30, a month.”
Shocked, Amanda was speechless for a moment. “If that's true, then it's a good thing you have walls around this place, because I would expect rioting mobs to demand their chance for such an opportunity. But where would you get the land for something like that?”
He waved her in the door, saying “The answer to that is why we're going on a trip today. Time for you to observe.”
She stepped back and begun muttering notes to herself. She recognized where they were – it was the place where they had watched the 'ships' leave the day before. As they walked onto the 'balcony' there was another 'ship' on the hanger floor, and Michael led the procession along the walkway to the ship's entrance. Once inside, she could that it was set up more like a passenger plane, with rows of seating running the length of the craft. Most of the ship was already filled, except for some seats up front. Amanda and Michael took the two forward seats on the right, Jon and Beth the two on the left, while the rest of the youngsters filled in the seats behind them.
Michael seemed to know a number of the passengers and was chatting with several until a young man (the co-pilot?) murmured something to him on the way to the cockpit. Michael came and sat down and then the PA system came on. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We will be leaving as soon as we get clearance for take off, which should be shortly. You may use the seat belts if it makes you feel better, but please remain in your seats until we're out of the atmosphere. The view fore and aft will be displayed on the screens at the front of the cabin. We should arrive at Capitol in two hours. Enjoy your flight.”
Amanda could easily think of a couple dozen questions to ask, but there was such a sense of unreality about the situation that she just sat quietly, simply trying to absorb the experience. The screens came on and, since she was sitting in the aisle seat, she could see the view seemed to match what she could see out the cockpit windows. The view shifted and moved, as if the ship were leaving the hangar, though to add to the sense of unreality, she couldn't feel any sensation of movement. The ship seemed to come to a halt outside the hanger and, in what seemed a final absurdity, music started playing. As she was recognizing the music from the Superman movie, the ship tilted to stand on end, then it was suddenly moving, still without any sense of motion. She watched, awe-struck, as the aft screen displayed the ground receding quickly.
Soon, quicker than she expected, the screens showing the forward view turned black and stars appeared. She turned to Michael, who seemed unaffected. “I've been up a couple of tim
es already, so I can pretend it's no big deal,” he said softly, “but look around and you'll see just about everyone else is affected, too.” Looking around she saw it was true – almost everyone sat open-mouthed, staring at the screens that still showed the earth getting smaller behind, beneath them.
With the announcement that they were free to get up and move, Michael got up and moved about the cabin, talking to other passengers. She could see some of them beginning to relax as he talked with them, as if being reassured by such a mundane action. Deciding to try moving around, she unbuckled her belt and got up, relieved, but also partly scared, to find that everything felt normal. She headed to the back of the cabin where she'd seen a restroom sign on entering, and she found it as she remembered, located next to what had been the little garage on the other ship.
Sometime later, she had to remind herself that was this was being recorded and forced herself to return to her seat. She made a note for herself that being out of sight of the screens, even for a little while, helped calm her down – probably some Freudian return to the womb kind of thing. Pulling out a legal pad and the hard copy of notes from yesterday, she quickly started a third article. Curiously, it was easier to write, being in a similar ship, and it also helped things feel like normal again. She noticed that Michael had returned and sat down and took a breath to ask a question, thankfully remembering at the last second that they were definitely 'in public.' “Sir, can you tell me now where we're headed?”
He smiled and waved his hand toward the screen with the forward view, where the moon was just starting to move into view. “The moon?” she squeaked in a tiny voice. Then she closed her eyes and whispered, “This is just too much – it can't be real!”
“Well, if it's not real, then we're pulling a very elaborate hoax – and a very expensive one. After all, you've seen a good part of Ostia, even been into the money pit, which would seem to be rather difficult to fake. And the point of such a hoax would be what?”
“I don't know,” she said. “Right now, my brain is overloaded. If you don't mind, Sir, I'm going to sit here and pretend that I'm having a very unusual dream.” He didn't say anything else and she appreciated it. As long as she kept her eyes closed, she could think relatively straight, without panicking. The question Michael asked was very much to the point, if this wasn't real – and she paused to pinch herself and knock on the seat arm (they, unfortunately, were real, as far as she could tell) – then what was the point of a hoax?
She was well off, but not wealthy enough to pay for everything she'd seen so far, and there hadn't been the slightest hint that anyone wanted money from her. If there was a hoax, they were setting her up for a fall in writing all these stories about the empire, but what was the point of that? Even if this was a hoax to convince her, wouldn't the government know, at least from radar, whether they had actually been somewhere? The awful thought struck her that maybe they were actually counting on the government knowing, which meant that maybe this was real.
Amanda opened her eyes and looked around. The moon was getting rapidly bigger and beginning to fill the screen. She noticed that Beth, across the aisle, was trying hard to look calm and collected, but Beth apparently didn't realize that she had a death grip on Jon's arm. She could understand the emotion and was glad that Beth had someone to hang onto. Too bad she didn't have the same option.
The PA came on and she heard, “We'll begin the descent in five minutes. We should be docking at Capitol in ten, so you might start gathering up your belongings. Those of you who won't be returning with us today will be shown to your luggage. Thanks for flying with us. Before you leave, we'd be pleased to gather your signatures – you see, I'm informed that this is the first flight that hasn’t been 'hidden' and from my instruments there have been a number of people who have been tracking us, so y'all might just get to be famous.”
The moon was getting very rapidly closer, but then, thankfully, the ship slowed and their dive towards the surface became more … What do I call it, she thought, a more reasonable rate of descent, when there's nothing reasonable about any of this? The descent continued toward the center of a large crater, then halted just above the surface and pivoted again, beginning to move toward a large opening near the base of one of the mountains at the center of the crater. Good grief, she thought to herself, an underground hanger, like Star Wars. The ship entered the hanger, then turned and backed up to a … a passageway like they had at airports for loading and unloading planes, whatever it was called.
There was one final announcement. “Welcome to Capitol. I am also happy to inform you that y'all are now officially 'lunatics'. Hope you'll travel with us again.”
The young co-pilot (?) made his way to the back of the ship to open the lock, while Michael made a shooing motion, which apparently indicated that Michael was waiving his right to exit first. When the other passengers had left, Michael looked at the whole group and said, “You did well, people, no hysterics and screaming … and the women were just as good.”
“If I can make a suggestion, sir,” one of the youngsters said, with a Russian accent, “you really should have some pretty stewardesses on this flight.” He was immediately hit by the tall, black girl, Shawna.
Amanda found herself disagreeing. “No, what this flight really needed was a lot of those little airplane booze bottles!”
There was general laughter, and Michael smiled. “I'll pass those suggestions on, and maybe when 'commercial' flights begin you'll have your wishes. For now, I just wanted to let you know what's on the schedule for today. We're going up to Broadway and have an early lunch. Then you will have a chance to go outside and play tourist. Then you'll make a quick trip to see what 'hauling rocks' slavery is all about. Then you'll come back here for the trip home – takeoff is 1400. Questions?”
One of the youngsters raised his hand. “Sir, can I assume that we're still being tested and evaluated?”
“Son, I think it would be safe to say that you will be continually tested and evaluated until the day you retire from Imperial service.”
Amanda made a mental note to ask a question about this testing and evaluation, but she was looking forward to getting off the ship so she wasn't about to say anything. They filed off the ship, after signing a document that said they were passengers on this particular flight. They moved through some tunnels and came to a bank of elevators and got in one. They got off at another tunnel that looked much like underground Ostia and turned to the left. Just before they turned left at another corner, Michael said something about being prepared for the sight.
She turned the corner and took several steps before her brain registered what she was seeing. She stumbled forward to the edge of the open space and just gawked. Ahead of her was a broad area that reminded her of the National Mall in Washington, DC – broad sidewalks separating areas of green, growing grass. But beyond all that were huge 'windows,' almost floor to ceiling, and looking through them one could see what could only be a lunar landscape.
* * * * *
Beth had been a little nervous on the flight, well, maybe more than a little nervous. She'd never even been up in an airplane, so her first outing was to the moon? This was seriously crazy, freaky stuff. On the way off the plane, she'd realized that she'd spent a pretty good part of the flight tightly clutching Jon's arm. She'd whispered an apology, but Jon had said he'd appreciated it because it had helped convince him that he wasn't dreaming.
Then they turned onto the 'Broadway' as the boss called it, and she was tempted to grab Jon's arm again. The landscape outside the window was more than breath-taking – daunting might be a better description. Beth tore her eyes away from the window and looked at the corridor, the apparently empty shops that stretched out into the distance, then the grassy areas in front of the windows. She found that that was a very good idea to keep everything in perspective. Keeping half an eye on other things around you made the lunar landscape more manageable. Still she heard a “Wow!” escape from her own mouth.
James, off to her side, cleared his throat before saying, “I think 'wow' would be a magnificent understatement!”
Everyone stood mesmerized for a while – except for the boss who was keeping on eye on all of them. Eventually the boss got everyone's attention and led them to a restaurant at the corner of the corridor they'd come from and the 'Broadway.' There were some tables sitting outside and four of the guys decided to eat out there. Beth decided that might be fun in the future, when she was more used to things, but, right now, she decided she'd appreciate the illusion of being inside. The boss told them to order whatever they wanted, that it was on the house.
As she sat down by Jon, and pulled Amanda, who still looked shocked, down by herself, the boss came and sat at the same table. Jon looked around, glanced at the menu, which was labeled 'The Bear's Den' and grinned at the boss. “Something for retirement, Uncle Mike? And what's with this slogan, 'The Best Restaurant on the moon?”
“I grant that it's currently the only restaurant on the moon, but I'm told the manager refused to budge on the motto – after all, it is the truth.”
One of the two waiters took their order and it seemed to Beth that everyone was eating light. She had settled for a salad – her stomach wasn't exactly upset, but she certainly didn't feel like eating a lot. Turning to the boss and nodding in the direction of the landscape, she asked, “Are we really going outside, out there?”
“Yes, for several reasons. One is to test your reactions – some people have a mild agoraphobia, but almost everyone, so far, has gotten used to being out there. Not everyone necessarily likes it, but there are some who love it, and we want to identify those types for certain assignments.”
Amanda was finally showing some signs of returning normalcy. “How many people have been outside, so far?”
The boss smiled, “A couple of hundred, and yes, I've been out there – I'm one of those who got used to it, but it's not my favorite thing to do. A second reason is because I'm betting everyone will want some kind of tangible proof that they were here. Third, we need some guinea pigs to try out the tourist facilities.”