Annales Imperii - I. Ostiia

by Ted Mayes

  “Just set up an appointment with Sarah, my clerk,” he said, “and please feel free to come to church and see what goes on. I'm sure Michael would allow you to accompany him.”

  She said goodbye and left to get the last details of the party checked off. Something that really bothered her was the way the chaplain had referred to 'your Michael.' One day, she hoped, she'd get some of these things figured out, but for now, it just seemed as if Ostia, and Michael, took great delight in being confusing.

  * * * * *

  Beth couldn't remember being as busy (except for basic) as she was when she was helping Amanda plan for the first diplomatic dinner. It was all rather common sense stuff, but she really began to appreciate Amanda's attention to detail. They had gone over the guest list, deciding who would sit where. They'd finalized plans with the caterer over the details of the dinner and decided which pieces of the imperial china, crystal and silver should be at each place setting. They'd rounded up a bunch of Marine privates who 'volunteered' to help serve (she hoped they hadn't volunteered the way she and Jon had) and drilled them in their duties. She had hidden a smile when the First had addressed the privates, scaring them almost to death with his 'threats' of what might happen if there were screw-ups. She had even contacted Jon's Mom to get a string quartet from the College of Fine Arts to serenade the assembly. Finally, they had rearranged the great room and removed some of the furniture to make the space as open as possible.

  Finally there was nothing to do but wait for the guests. Amanda had insisted she dress up, so she had a new off-white long formal gown, topped off with modified “Ike” style dress coat, heels and full makeup. She felt pretty and appreciated Jon's look of warm approval almost as much as she enjoyed the sight of Jon dressed formally. Thankfully, they didn't have any specific duties as the diplomatic guests arrived, told just to remain close at hand to run any errand that Amanda or the consul wanted done. It was certainly intriguing to watch those two welcome guests arriving in the atrium. The consul was suavely polite and distant, while Amanda was a shining example of a gracious hostess. Then Beth and Jon took turns 'escorting' the guests to the great room, where Mary Chen and her husband took charge and made sure the guests were provided with conversation and refreshments as the string quartet played in the background.

  Finally everyone had arrived. “I didn't think that forty people was going to be such a large number for this place,” she whispered to Jon, but it certainly seems like it fills the place up.”

  Jon nodded in agreement, “A lot more than when we were bunking here.” He paused, then asked, “Does that seem like a long time ago to you?”

  “In some ways, it seems like forever since basic training, but the calendar says it's only been a couple of months.” They stood quietly side by side for a few moments, watching the guests mingle and talk.

  “May I repeat my observation about how elegant and beautiful you look tonight?” Jon said softly.

  She felt herself blushing madly. “Only if I can repeat my observation that you're very handsome this evening. Before we get into a compliment contest, though, would you go check with the caterer that things are still on schedule in the kitchen?”

  With a “Yes, Ma'am” Jon turned and moved off toward the kitchen. Beth kept her eye on the privates who were passing drinks around, even though there was really no need for it. First had found a decurion to act as bartender at the bar built into the wall opposite the kitchen (which she had not noticed before) and he was doing a more than adequate job of keeping the waiters under control, just by raising an eyebrow or giving a nod of his head.

  Jon was back quickly. “The caterer says everything is going well. They'll be ready to start serving at 1930, and it's just after 1900 now.”

  They stood quietly for a few more minutes, but then Beth noticed that Amanda was motioning for her to come nearer. She walked over, as gracefully as she could, to Amanda's side and said, “Yes, Miss?”

  “Beth, I wanted to introduce you to some people. Sir and Lady Stafford, Great Britain, Monsieur Daladier, France, Herr and Frau Tillich, Germany, this is my assistant, Miss Bethany Jordan.” Beth curtsied (Mary Chen had insisted on that) and murmured a polite greeting.

  Lady Stafford smiled. “Miss Jordan, I've heard so much about you, that it is quite a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Heard about me, Ma'am?” Amanda, the traitor, murmured something about needing to talk to someone else, and quietly moved away.

  “Yes, you are the young lady that Amanda wrote about, aren't you? You're still 17, still in high school, and yet, if I recognize your insignia correctly, you've already been promoted to optio and received two honor stripes?”

  “Yes, Ma'am, but as I have already protested to Miss Amanda, there were a number of very inaccurate statements in her story.”

  “I might be willing to believe you, Miss Jordan,” the French envoy observed, “if it weren't for the fact that I've had the opportunity to become acquainted with the First of the praetorians, and I find Miss Amanda's characterization of him to be very accurate.”

  “But to spare your blushes, Miss Jordan,” Frau Tillich, thankfully changed the subject, “I did want to ask you about a rumor I heard. Is it true that you invented those 'dating rings'? I ask because they're starting to become fashionable in Germany.”

  “Not exactly 'invented', but my boyfriend and I,” she pointed in Jon's direction, “did work out the general concept.”

  The diplomats had turned and looked at Jon. Sir Stafford said, “Ah, a classmate. Do call him over to join our conversation, Miss Jordan.” Beth beckoned to Jon and sent him a quick look of 'help me!' to him. As Jon approached, Sir Stafford was explaining about the class he was 'auditing' at the University and referring them to Amanda's article on the University that had been published that morning. As Jon stopped at Beth's side, making her feel so much more comfortable, Stafford was recommending that the others consider auditing it in the future, “Although Dr. Harrison will accept only one auditor a semester so that the students aren't intimidated in their answers – and, be prepared for a thorough discussion of the great political treatises of Western civilization.” Beth introduced Jon and mentioned that Frau Tillich had said that 'dating rings' were becoming popular in Germany and that the two of them were being blamed for the invention.

  “That's not exactly correct, I'm afraid. It's true that Beth and I discovered how difficult it was for clerks to recognize when, shall I say, a couple is in love, ….”

  Monsieur Daladier interrupted gracefully, murmuring, “Hardly surprising when humans have a hard enough time recognizing such a moment.”

  “... as you say, Sir. It seemed to us that some kind of 'discrete event' would allow the clerks to recognize such a situation and enable them to categorize certain actions as permissible rather than offensive. It was Master Greg Morton who invented, and still sells, the dating rings.”

  “I have noticed,” Lady Stafford observed, “a great deal of modesty among Imperials, including those, like you, who are new to the … adult world, may I say?”

  “And this is objectionable, Ma'am?” Jon asked calmly.

  “Oh, not objectionable, merely unusual. However, if I may briefly return to my original question, Miss Jordan, I have inspected portions of the infamous obstacle course, and watched some of the current trainees attempt it, and I am amazed that you were able to complete the course.”

  “That was one of Miss Amanda's worst inaccuracies. If it hadn't been for my codjits hauling me around and almost throwing me over the obstacles, I'm sure I wouldn't have passed.”

  “Codjits?” Herr Tillich asked.

  “Sorry, Sir. It's Marine slang for the Latin codigitus, English 'co-finger', members of the same squad or, in Latin, manus or 'hand'. Most especially it refers to those you survive basic training with.”

  There may have been more questions in store for them, but Amanda announced that it was time to be seated for dinner. There were appropriate polite goodbyes and the guests
began drifting toward the dining room. Beth was glad to see them leave, because while it had been exceedingly polite, it had still been an inquisition and she was glad it was over.

  Amanda came over to them with a smile. “Thanks for all your help, guys. Michael said ….” She suddenly stopped talking and a look of panic appeared on her face.

  Beth wasn't quite sure what was going on, but Jon had waved a hand in front of her face and said, “Relax, Amanda, Uncle Mike told you to call him that, remember?”

  She watched Amanda recover and take a big breath. She nodded and went on, “Michael said that we were to let you go when dinner began because the two of you have school tomorrow. So thanks again. You can take a dinner with you if you want.”

  Jon shook his head, “Thanks, but I'm going to grab a burger and Beth wanted a big chef salad, and we'll grab those on the way home. Hope you can relax and enjoy the rest of the evening!”

  Amanda smiled wanly, “Let's all hope so,” and shooed them on their way.

  They grabbed their belongings and left the residence as quickly as they could, before more duties came their way. Jon grabbed her arm at the benches in the middle of the street, sat her down and suggested she put on some 'walking' shoes. “Much as I enjoy the sight of your legs in high heels, I know they're terribly uncomfortable, so why don't you change them before we start?”

  Beth thought that maybe she should be a little insulted by what sounded like an order, but whatever she should have felt was drowned out by little flutters inside caused by the way he'd said he'd liked the look of her legs and by a 'comfortable' feeling of how concerned he was for her. She tried to think of what to say, but all she could think of to say was, “You've seen my legs before.” Wouldn't you know it, just as that came out of her mouth, her skirt rearranged itself – honest, it wasn't deliberate – and a long length of bare leg was displayed as she put on a tennis shoe. She didn't dare look him in the face because she was sure her face was a very bright red.

  “Ah, yes, I've seen them before,” she glanced up quickly to see that he was wiggling the little finger with the dating ring on it, “but, now, I get to appreciate the sight!”

  Calm down. Concentrate on changing shoes. Change the subject. “What do you think was going on with Amanda there at the last?” Stand up. Act normal.

  Jon smiled, noticing but not mentioning her embarrassment, said, “It looks to me like Amanda might be falling for Uncle Mike, and she's scared to death about it.”

  Beth considered that as they made their way to their favorite restaurant. “You just may have something there.”

  They walked on for a while in thought. Then Jon said, “You said something the other day about a dance at your school. Problem is, I don't really know how to dance. However, I saw an announcement at the University today that someone is going to be offering dance lessons for couples on Saturday morning, some ballroom, some swing. What do you think about signing up for those and learning some dances together?”

  How silly, she thought, why would anyone even need to think about a wonderful excuse to hold him, be held by him and 'practice' dancing closely? “Sounds great, let's do it!” was all she said.

  10 – October-November 1993

  By Wednesday morning, Michael was expecting something unusual to happen. Monday had seen the release of Amanda's latest article, one on privacy, or the lack of it, in the empire. Added to that was the beginning of two conferences at the University, one on the moon and the other on Mars. The collision of colossal egos and entrenched ideas with new ideas and facts, coupled with the suggestion that nothing could be hidden, should be both entertaining and frustrating. It was interesting, he had observed to Amanda, that the older and higher-ranking scientists were the most resistant to change. Only the least intelligent ones, she had remarked, who had invested everything in the status quo and had no desire to see their life's work dumped into the trash bin of 'has-beens.'

  That brief conversation had led him to a bout of deep contemplation. Amanda was sitting at one end of his desk, skimming through some low-level reports. He didn't think she realized how much her life had changed during the past two weeks, and he wondered how she would react when she did become aware of the change – petrified would be his guess. After Mary Chen had bounced her out of the 'press secretary' job, he'd asked the emperor if he could use her more as an executive secretary. He'd been told that there were no objections, but the emperor would keep a close eye on both of them. The same rules were to remain in effect – what, sometimes why and never how. So, since then, she'd been reading many more reports and summarizing them for him and serving as a sounding board and adviser for many of his decisions. In one way he was thrilled that she was doing such a good job, but on the other hand he was sure that it meant that she was drawing ever closer to earning her freedom, and what would happen then?

  He was in such deep concentration that he didn't hear Amanda say anything at first. He only snapped out of it when he felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a look of concern quickly replaced by a look of confusion and near-panic. He smiled, first, because it was the first time she'd touched him voluntarily; and second, because he thought, but would never say, that she looked so adorable with that look of panicked confusion. “Yes?” he said.

  “I was just wondering if you were alright,” she said with some hesitation. “It's almost time for those scientists to bring in their 'concerns.'”

  “I'm alright, just considering a problem or two. Thank you for reminding me about the meeting – I look forward to hearing your take on the meeting after its over.” There it was, that little stunned expression as if he'd done something totally unexpected. She nodded and moved back to stand against the wall, which she usually did when visitors came that she wasn't used to.

  Soon there was the noise of a group arriving out in the street, and Tommy appeared almost magically to stand close behind him. Then the guests began entering – several diplomats he knew and a number of other gentleman, many of whom looked both indignant and upset. Remaining seated, he nodded at the assembled group, said “Gentlemen,” and sat back to see what had happened.

  The scientific types glanced back and forth at each other until one of them, with a British accent, spoke up, “We have come to express our concerns...,”

  “And to protest...” another individual interrupted.

  “... about the actions that have been taken, we are told, under your direction.”

  “Indeed?” Michael said. “By all means, do let me know what your concerns are.”

  “First of all,” the spokesman said, “there is great concern about the … empire's … unwillingness to abide by the Outer Space Treaty of 1967. It would seem that the … colony … on the moon indicates an intention on the part of the empire to commit a gross violation of that treaty.” The speaker paused expectantly.

  “I can see where that might be a concern to some people, but would you be kind enough to tell me when the empire signed that particular treaty?”

  The speaker glanced quickly at Sir Stafford, who gently shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he sputtered, “I assumed that the empire was a signatory. But surely you would want to abide by the terms of the treaty anyway!”

  “Why?”

  “Are you trying to say that the empire is going to install weapons of mass destruction in outer space?”

  Michael gave him a disgusted look. “No, I am not saying that at all, nor would you suggest it if you had been fully briefed by anyone responsible in your government. What I said was 'why' should we want to abide by the terms of the treaty?”

  The scientist seemed to be perplexed, unsure of what to say. Sir Stafford took advantage of the silence to say, “Perhaps those questions dealing with the treaty should be dealt with by those more accustomed to deal with treaties and international law. However, perhaps the emperor's representatives might be willing to share their views on what is involved with the responsible exploration of outer space?”

  “Thank you, S
ir Stafford,” Michael said, “for your suggestion about future conversations. For the time being, let us say that our views about space exploration are being demonstrated in our current activities. At the present time we are not only freely sharing the information we are discovering and seeking suggestions as to next steps, but, as I understand it, are already in the planning stages of assisting international experts to take part in further explorations of the moon and other planets.”

  One distraught individual burst out, “But you're not following our plans, our orders.”

  “No, we are not,” Michael said with a tone of finality that strongly hinted such an event would never happen.

  Another individual said with more politeness, “I happened to notice that there was an 'office of terra-forming' at your university. Wouldn't that seem to indicate a proposed violation of the treaty?”

  “Perhaps,” Michael answered, “but perhaps it could also indicate a flaw in the terra-centric view of the treaty.”

  “How so?”

  “Why should the views and opinions of the nations of Earth be the determining factor for the colonists of the Moon and Mars, or for, perhaps in the future, the nations of the Moon and Mars?”

  There was silence for a while and then the first speaker resumed where he apparently had left off. “There are also certain areas in which the … empire … seems to have special knowledge that is unavailable to the scientific community. It has been suggested that reports on current activities indicate not only a control over gravity that is unheard of, a method of communication that is faster than the speed of light, but also an access to sources of energy that goes beyond anything known to mankind in general.”

  When Michael made no answer to whatever implied question had gone unasked, one of the other individuals broke in, saying, “See, it's like I said, those things are impossible, so they're faking it somehow!”