by Ted Mayes
Then, too, there was an interesting possibility of another story, or series of stories. Someone had mentioned to her that there seemed to be an unusually high number of older people at Capitol, and someone needed to check out whether the Moon was becoming a retirement destination. The rumor of a rise in birthrates also needed to be checked out – and then to figure out what such a rise might mean. It was obvious, at least to Amanda, that she had an unusually long ‘to-do’ list.
So, she sat down with Michael for a Wednesday lunch, hoping for a quiet, restful, time with him. Unfortunately, his first words shattered that hope. “We’ll be having a guest at lunch today,” he said. At her distressed expression, he went on, “Sorry, direct orders from ‘upstairs’, although it came with a promise that this wouldn’t happen again.”
“Well, if this had been your idea,” she said, “I would have objected strongly. I guess I have to put up with it, if it comes from ‘upstairs.’ Who’s going to be joining us?”
“You’ll see in a few minutes – High Eagle is escorting our guest here.”
Amanda faked pouting for a moment. “Is this kind of ‘interruption’ going to continue after you retire – in what, nine months?”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, because the next consul will be doing most of this stuff. However, I’ve been told that someone has been so pleased with your ‘extra’, ‘silver’ activities that someone is planning on giving me a similar card at retirement.”
She looked at him with a mixture of amazement and fear. “Will you ever actually get to retire? Or will you just keep working for them forever?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. After all you’re not working for her full-time, and he has a lot of other people working for him. I get the impression that those silver things are for very special occasions – and hopefully will be used very little.” Michael looked up and said, “And here is our guest.”
Amanda looked around and saw Henry Gallagher approaching the table. “Henry?” she said, surprised.
Henry Gallagher looked as surprised as Amanda, if not a little apprehensive. He came up to the table and took a seat. He looked at Amanda first. “Congratulations on your engagement, Amanda – quite a change from those first press conferences at the Viminal, right?” Then he turned to look at Michael. “It was my understanding,” he said slowly, “that reporters from outside would never get a chance to meet you.”
“That is the general rule, but there are always exceptions.” He drew a paper from his coat pocket and placed it on the table in between Amanda and Henry. “I have been directed to give this to the both of you.”
Amanda looked at it in astonishment. It was a letter of agreement between the imperial family and the founders of the Imperial Press. It included the principles that Amanda and Henry had talked about and added a few more. The members of the Imperial Press would never be included on the Honor’s List – any honors or awards for journalism were to be decided by the governing board of the Imperial Press. The imperial family promised no interference with the press and, in return, would appreciate their privacy being respected. Members of the Imperial Press would still be liable to the laws against espionage and treason.
When she was done reading, she just stared at Michael for a moment. The empress had simply ignored all her concerns and apparently had decided that Amanda was to be involved with this, no matter what reservations she had. She looked at Henry, who was clearly confused. She thought about saying something but something held her back, probably the fact that she was more closely connected to the powers that be than she wanted anyone to know.
“What is this?” Henry finally asked.
“A letter of agreement between the two of you, at present, and the emperor and empress, establishing the Imperial Press.”
“And what is the Imperial Press?”
“Outside of the principles that are listed in the letter? Whatever the two of you make it,” Michael said with a smile. “The emperor and empress are concerned about the need to have a reliable and truthful source for differing points of view. With sources of news now being scattered around the Solar system, the emperor is confidant that his officers will report truthfully to him, but wants to have a reliable means of checking.”
“And how will we know that the emperor means what he says?”
Michael’s expression became a little guarded. “I think you need a little more experience in the empire. In my experience in the empire, a person never gets promoted to optio, let alone higher ranks, unless they are scrupulously honest. Needless to say, I think the emperor has always been honest in what he says. I’m sure you don’t intend to be insulting, but I hope your experiences ‘outside’ don’t keep you from recognizing the big differences between the empire and outside.”
Henry glanced at Amanda. “I’ll admit I’ve heard that before, but I also have to admit I’m very skeptical of such a claim.” Michael merely nodded and said nothing. “Is this a normal thing, this letter of agreement?”
“Yes and no,” Michael replied. “The emperor has made ‘letters of agreement’ with a number of individuals, but, to my knowledge, this is the only one where he wouldn’t be a ‘junior partner’ and have a say in running the company.”
“Why me? Why us?”
“The two of you because the emperor has been watching Amanda for several months and has been impressed by her. You, because Amanda trusts you and an investigation into your background has indicated your talent and character are such that the emperor has decided to include you in the proposal.”
Henry sat silently for a moment. Looking directly at Michael he said, “One of the first things I would want to do would be to interview you.”
“If you decide to do this, contact my clerk when you get your Latin rights and set up a time.”
Henry nodded his head slowly. “I’ll think about it.” He stood up and picked up the letter. Glancing at Amanda, he said “Meet at the regular place, to talk, at two?” When Amanda nodded, Henry turned away and left the restaurant.
“Okay,” she said, “after that little surprise, would you like to tell me what’s going on?”
Michael shrugged. “You probably know more about it than I do. I was told to bring Henry Gallagher in, and present the letter to both of you.”
“Have any idea what’s going to happen next?”
He shrugged again. “I would assume that you and Henry will probably decide to get this thing going. I’d bet that you’ll get a gift of some sort to get things going. I’m pretty sure that you’re going to be busier than you can imagine right now, getting this organization built and going.”
“I’d hoped to get a little more information than that.”
“Let’s eat first, and then take this up, OK?” Amanda started to protest, but her stomach reminded her that she was hungry, so that part of the conversation was dropped for the time being. They did discuss what had been going on in their day so far. She told him how the wedding planning was going, and he surprised her with a possible honeymoon location. Now that the various village farms on the moon were producing, he said, the “Home Farms”, the first farms on the Moon were going to be converted into recreation/vacation areas.
The emperor had offered, she was told, the first reservation to stay there for them as a wedding gift. She had some doubts about that, but Michael informed her that with the jihad against the empire unresolved, it didn’t make much sense to go outside for a honeymoon – his position as consul would make them too conspicuous. She had to agree that he had a point, but suggested he pass on to the emperor a hint that it would be nice, at some time in the future, for imperials to travel to various destinations on Earth. They were both done with lunch when Amanda asked him again what he thought was going to happen next with the Imperial Press.
After having her switch on Samantha’s recording, Michael began, “I don’t know your business, so I can only make general suggestions, based on how the empire itself started. First you decide what
you want to do – in this case, you want to provide accurate news – but how do you want to do this? By print, video, ‘broadcast’, or this new Worldwideweb/Internet thing that was invented in the last year or two? Then, decide what the scope of the service is going to be – are you going to cover just the empire, or, since the bulk of humanity is going to be Earth-bound for quite some time, are you going to compete with other news services?”
“Then, get your money system set up – how you’re going to pay for all of this. Set high standards for what kind of people you want involved in this, and choose your first employees or associates carefully. Then, all you have to do is work as hard as you possibly can to accomplish your goals.”
Amanda thought for a moment. “How would we find those ‘employees or associates’?”
Michael shrugged. “I would assume it would be something like how Mr. Gallagher was ‘selected.’ You knew him and thought well of him, and unofficially recommended him for Latin rights. He was investigated, and, I assume, is on track to receive those rights at some time in the future.”
“Henry was investigated? Do you know why he was fired?”
“Yes, but if you want to know, you’ll have to hear it from him.”
“Are there any ‘requirements’ I should know about for getting Latin rights for someone?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure that the empire won’t be interested in any journalist who is tied to their national intelligence agency, but other than that, I would guess it would be up to you and Mr. Gallagher, and whoever else you bring into the organization, to decide what kind of journalist you want for your organization.”
“What,” she said with mock surprise, “you don’t want any CIA or KGB shills in Ostia? But how will you ever be able to identify them?” she asked half-seriously.
Michael just grinned. “We’ll know,” was all he would say. She kissed him goodbye and made arrangements to have supper with him, but for some reason the grin on his face remained in her memory during the afternoon. She was delighted that he was getting better (but he still had a ways to go) at opening up about his life and feelings. This ‘discussion’, however, only reinforced the idea that Michael would never tell her any of the real secrets the empire had, which actually made her feel more at ease. She didn’t really want to know some of those secrets.
Later in the afternoon she sat down with Henry to talk about things. Curiously, they met at the Bear’s Den, and Amanda wondered whether Henry was aware who owned the restaurant. She played for him the ‘suggestions’ that Michael had given to her at lunch, and then they talked. When they were finally done, they were somewhat surprised to find that they might actually have a workable organization.
Amanda was going to supply the start-up money – at least to begin with – from the sale of her earlier articles and some of her trust funds. Because of that, Henry had insisted that she got to be the ‘chairman’, while she insisted that he got to be editor-in-chief. They decided that everyone in the IP had to be a working reporter, no matter what their ‘position.’ The IP was going to involve both print and broadcast media, but there were to be no ‘pretty faces’ who simply read a teleprompter and did no actual reporting.
After she had told Henry what Michael had said about ‘sticks and carrots’, they found they were also in agreement about other things. Members of the IP would not be citizens or part of Fleet or Marine. They would receive a stipend, besides what their writing produced, of from one to ten denarii a week, with no more than one pay raise a year. There would be ‘ranks’ that could be earned by the quality of their work (tentatively, and humorously, labeled as ‘cub’, ‘stringer’, ‘contributor’, ‘correspondent’ and ‘reporter’), and again, no ‘promotion’ more than once a year.
They both agreed that IP headquarters should be at Capitol, with bureaus at the ten regional ‘centers’ the empire was setting up, as well as a bureau on Mars. Amanda, with her ‘connections’ to the empire, was to come up with an acceptable way of vetting proposed IP members, and Henry would start making contacts with possible candidates for IP membership. They spent some time discussing possible additions to IP and then they both sat back in their chairs, somewhat astounded at what they had done so far.
“Well, kiddo,” Henry said finally, “are we really going to do this?”
“I think a better question would be, ‘should we do this’? Is it worth our time and effort to provide accurate, truthful news?”
Henry gazed up at the ceiling, thoughtfully. “Your fiancé said he knew why I was let go. Well, after the political conventions last year, I protested quietly to the big shots that most of the young reporters were simply taking the press releases and signing their names to them. I was told to forget it, but I kept reminding the editors that nobody seemed to be digging into the stories for fact. I was told to keep quiet about it. Then, when I started reporting on the empire, I was told I wasn’t slanting the news the right way and when I wouldn’t start ‘slanting’ the stories, there was suddenly no room for my talents.” He paused for a moment, sighing softly. “I’m in favor of unbiased accuracy, but it’s gotten to the point I have trouble believing that anyone else does.”
Amanda looked down at her hands, well, really at her engagement ring. “The day before my trial for espionage, an FBI agent told me that imperials were ‘very serious’ people. During the time I’ve spent here, I’ve come to think of that as too mild a description. So far, in my experience, when an imperial, especially an imperial officer, tells you something, you can believe it. So, in our case, does the imperial family want an unbiased, accurate, truthful source of news? Well, as you can see, I’m willing to bet money on it.”
They looked at each other for a while, before Henry said, “Well, since it seems like we’re going to do it, what’s the next step?”
Amanda smiled, “According to a friend, whose parents own Jordan’s, all we have to do is sign that letter of agreement and get to work.”
Henry opened the letter and signed his name at the bottom and then passed it over to Amanda. “You can give it back to your consul this evening. Shall we meet for coffee tomorrow morning, maybe at Jordan’s, say 0900, and see what we need to do next?”
Amanda signed her name and folded the letter. “Whatever you say, Chief.”
* * * * *
A month had gone by since her birthday and Beth was happy to realize that things were slowing down, at least at Ostia. Quite a few scientists had left during the last few weeks. Some of them had left because of the ‘mistreatment’ of that one scientist who thought she spoke for everyone, although, curiously enough, that particular scientist had returned, after an apology for the rudeness and a psychiatric evaluation that indicated she really didn’t think she spoke for mankind (she simply had very strong feelings about certain things). Most of them had left, however because national and regional research centers had made arrangements for the data to be streamed outside Ostia, and it was ‘easier’ (whatever that meant) for the scientific work to be done elsewhere.
That didn’t mean that all the scientists were gone, but the ones that were left, Beth had been informed, were considered by Intelligence to be part-time spies. She had been told to expect reassignment soon, and, because Intelligence would run her depleted section, she could take Sigrid with her to the new assignment, if she wanted. That was fine with her. What was even nicer was a couple of days off before the new assignment started. Sigrid was going to see her family and Beth was going to take some quiet time.
Fortunately, yesterday, her last day at that particular job had turned out had been relatively quiet, but, oh, so memorable. Just after she’d checked in at the office after school, several people had wandered into her section and had asked to see her. She was curious, because she’d heard nothing about any new scientists coming into Ostia. Soon after they introduced themselves she found out that they weren’t exactly scientists, because they began politely demanding that she prove that the moon landings had taken place.
&nb
sp; “Excuse me,” she’d said, “what did you say you wanted from me?”
“You need to prove that you have actually landed on the moon. We know the Apollo moon landings were a hoax, and you imperials have made even more outrageous claims. So, now prove it to us!”
Beth stared at them for a moment, thankful that her mouth wasn’t hanging down in dumbfounded amazement. “And why should I prove anything to you?” she finally managed to say.
“If you want us to believe you, you’ll have to prove it!”
“And why should I care if you believe anything?”
That caused a little bit of confusion – apparently these people hadn’t been asked that question before. “Well, you’re trying to convince us that you have a colony on the moon.”
She shook her head, because it was becoming clear very quickly that this was a total waste of time. “Samantha, please have the optio send for the nearest Marine patrol.” She returned her attention to the people in front of her. “The Empire, in general, and I, in particular, are not trying to convince you, or anyone else, of anything. Believe whatever you want, and if that keeps you here on Earth for the rest of your life, that’s something I’m not concerned about. Now, you’re wasting my time, and I would appreciate it if you would leave now. If not, the Marines will be more than happy to move you.”
She returned to her desk and the last paperwork she’d have to do here. The group in her office seemed a little stunned, but they slowly began moving to the door. They began moving faster when a Marine optio stuck his head in her door, “I’ll move them out of here for you. Sorry about the disturbance, Ma’am.”
“Thank you, optio.” Sigrid told her later the people who had interrupted her had been moved away from the building. The optio had given them a ‘polite’ tongue-lashing and the good advice not to bother, ever again, anyone with more than two stripes on their arm. The end of work was early that day, since the next-to-the-last-thing Beth did with her section was to thank them for their work and distribute the new assignments to those who were moving on. The last thing she did was to take the whole section out for a celebratory drink.