Legacy

by Bob Mauldin

  “Gentlemen,” Lucy began after the tape hit the end, “this second tape shows you that we do know how to use our ship.” Everyone noticed the stress she put on the pronoun.

  “And turning this vessel over to any government on Earth would be stupidity of the worst sort.” Outpacing the objections that naturally followed that comment, she went on. “Do you know what will happen if we do as you demand? How will Russia or China react to the United States having the kind of technology that our ship represents? You, my anonymous friend, how do you think they will react? Or all the other countries of the world, in fact? We say that the best thing is for the status to remain quo, so to speak. That will keep this country and all the others on this mud ball from taking each other out in some kind of nuclear frenzy. We consider that to be patriotism of the highest caliber. And as we have both possession and a tactical advantage, I think we’ll keep control. Next. As far as national security is concerned, we intend to keep this ship out of the reach of anyone who might try to use it against anyone else on Earth, so you can forget that one.”

  Deftly fielding the questions of the four men from the government, Lucy and her team finally hammered home to them that there was no joke here. No special effects, no attempt to defraud, defame, coerce, or intimidate. “Remember, you came to us, gentlemen,” Stephen interjected. “Right now, one hundred and forty million miles away, we have four hundred-plus people trying to carve out a piece of the universe for the human race. We don’t intend to keep that away from the rest of Earth. On the contrary, we intend to give that to the people of Earth, eventually. Please note, I said ‘to the people of Earth,’ gentlemen, not to one country or group. But, until we get a few problems solved, the most notable of which is that we have already been fired upon by unknown aliens, and fired back successfully, mind you, we must keep as much distance between us and you as possible. We are still figuring out how to do that, as we have to keep returning here for more personnel and to bring back those who get tired, want out, or need to be buried. Yes, buried. As I said, we were attacked, and there have been casualties. We have seven confirmed dead and three missing. This isn’t a picnic we are returning to.”

  Gayle found a chance to make her voice heard. Knowing that her looks and physical attributes made most men underestimate her, she let it go on most of the time, but in this instance, she decided to show that she wasn’t just there for show. “We are now fighting for our lives out there, Mister Galway.” Turning her not inconsiderable attention toward the leader of the opposing group, she continued. “We are few, and space is vast. I realize that is an understatement, but there it is. We have a chance, practically handed to us on a platter, to move the human race forward a quantum step. Giving the ship to you won’t accomplish that. As a friend of mine said, ‘They’ll study it into some black budget, and no one will ever get any benefit from it.’ That is a paraphrase, but you know what he means. So, we keep the ship. And we are going to carve out a foothold in space for the human race whether you like it or not!”

  Not a word came from the four men. A cloud seemed to hang over them as they sat there. Lucy tipped her head to one side, listening to a report from Galileo. She looked at her visitors. “Gentlemen, are any of you expecting company? Four men in a sedan heading toward this cabin at a high rate of speed? If you are and can contact them, I’d suggest that you wave them off. If not, we are out of here and our next meeting won’t be under such pleasant circumstances.”

  Commander Marshall rose and went to stand at one of the windows looking out onto the parking lot, pistol in hand. At this the security man looked at Galway who nodded at him. He got up and left through the front door. Galway temporized. “Look, we had to take our best shot at things. Truth to tell, I feel a little like you do. I want to keep things as they are. I have a vested interest in the status quo. But I also have to answer to a higher authority. Balancing those two can be pretty tricky, sometimes. I imagine that if you don’t know that yet, Commander Grimes, then you will before too much longer. Those guys in the car had orders to infiltrate if they didn’t get a signal from ... him. Now that we know how hard it is to sneak up on you, I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

  Lucy glanced at her watch. “Mister Galway, this thing in my ear is a terrible nuisance sometimes. It just informed me that we are running out of time here. So. Here is what we want. A base on each of three continents: North America, Europe, and Asia. Free passage for our personnel when they return from their tours of duty. No restrictions on recruitment. These are things we expect you to work out with all of Earth’s governments while we are gone. In return, we will begin giving out some of the technology on board to begin improving the lives of all Earth’s citizens. There are, of course, two restrictions on that. We will not trade propulsion or weapons technology.”

  Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back to some of the conversations she had listened to and, lately, been involved in. “The real kicker to the whole situation as we see it is this: if we give something to you, Mister Galway, you can be sure that someone in every country on Earth will be given the same data. There will be no exclusivity.”

  Lucy signed for Stephen to pick up where she left off. “I want you to keep in mind, too, what a Pandora’s box this kind of deal can be. Let me give you an example. Today, in this country, there is a company forming to build improved solar cells and storage batteries. That’s all well and good. But how about when we offer you a device that will cancel weight? Not mass, my friend, just weight. Marry that to an automobile equipped with the new battery and solar cells, and whole industries will vanish over-night. Industries like gasoline companies all the way down to the distributor level because those batteries will run an electric motor at seventy-five miles an hour for a week. All businesses that support internal combustion engines. All businesses that have anything to do with tires, Mister Galway. And those are just a few industries off the top of my head. So. One small ... gift ... and how many millions of people will be unemployed around the world? What about the countries that produce the oil that the world will no longer need? I say take what I’ve said here back to your boss and tell him to be very careful about what you want and what you ...”

  Lucy’s wrist jerked and she looked down at her arm, blue sparkles formed before her eyes as she looked back up to see two men barrel into the room, guns drawn. “Keep the same phone number, Galway!”

  “I will not tolerate this!” Lucy rampaged through the bridge. “I want to know how two men can get past our sensor net and get that close to us! Those two fucking Neanderthals weren’t kidding. Weapons out and looking for someone to shoot.” Stephen, silently in agreement with her, was busy picking through the data to come up with just that answer. “It seems, Commander, that the lodge is in an area that somehow blocked some of our sensor sweeps. Somehow, and don’t ask me how, those two got into the area before we beamed in and worked their way into the lodge. If the others in the car hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t even have been on the lookout. Imagine the damage from that. We got lucky, and that’s all there is to it.”

  Simon chose that moment to walk onto the bridge after waiting for the few minutes it took for Lucy to regain a portion of control. “Luck is about all we have going for us, people,” he said, looking to bring the atmosphere on the bridge back to something approaching professional. “And that’s been from day one. All we can do is make the best of any break we can get, and try to minimize any damage.” He turned to Lucy. “Debrief in my office, if you please, Commander.”

  Lucy stood at attention as Simon circled her like a ... hawk, not blinking. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind. A bird of prey searching for just the right moment to strike. “In front of junior officers, Commander?” he asked inches away from her ear, his voice almost a whisper. He walked all the way around her, coming to a stop in front of her. Raising his voice to conversational level, he continued, “Losing your temper is not out of line, but I will not tolerate outbreaks like that in front
of the crew. That was out of line.” He turned his back on her and walked to his desk, the set of his shoulders telling her he wasn’t through. He sat down, deliberately staring at her the whole time. “When your subordinates see you lose control, their confidence in you can be severely impacted. That will cause problems at crucial times. Problems like hesitation in obeying orders instantly. Which is the only way to do things out here or else people can die. Easily. These people, like you, Commander, are volunteers. They don’t have to obey. They obey because they want to. Because they trust you. Because they trust that I made the right choice in putting you in command.” Simon had gone into lecture mode, his voice smooth, firm, his eyes compelling her to look at him and daring her to look away. The Law was about to be delivered from on high. “These people only follow what I say because ... hell, I don’t know why they do, but they do. And they’re only going to as long as the people I pick to lead them in my place don’t let me down.”

  He took a deep breath, obviously choosing his words with care. “Outbursts like the one I just witnessed are marginally acceptable in a staff meeting, but not in front of the crew. If that is not acceptable to you I will see to it that you are dropped off the next time we get back to Earth, otherwise, you will make it your personal mission to see to it that each and every officer on this ship learns what happens when that rule is broken the first time. And remember that while first time implies second time, second time means last time.”

  Simon leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. A chime sounded, saving her from further chewing. Simon smiled, taking her by surprise. It carried all the way to his eyes, which had remained hard up until now. “All I have to do is remember the ass-chewing I got for whatever and give it to someone else when they screw up, and I sound like a damn genius, don’t I?” He shook his head sadly and glanced at his watch. “Right now, we have a ship to get under way. And as it’s my shift, I want you to get some rest. We’ll let your actions decide your fate. You show up for your next watch and I’ll consider this matter resolved. You don’t show up and I’ll still consider it resolved.” He looked at her for another minute while she stared a hole in the bulkhead over his shoulder. After another eternity, he said, “Dismissed.”

  Lucy closed the door behind her with a sense of doom averted. He hadn’t canned her. She had known she was wrong as the words were coming out of her mouth, but she couldn’t stop. She blamed it on post-adrenaline let-down, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t canned her. And why wouldn’t everyone follow him? she thought. He and Kitty have this ship, and, yeah, it’s going to take some time and work, but I see the vision Simon sees. And it’s obvious that Commander Kitty sees it, too.

  Six days later, Galileo slid back into place beside Orion. Ostensibly to drop off extra supplies for the food processors and to add and transfer crew, but also to show those on the space dock that they weren’t forgotten. Just over a month had passed since their departure, but to Simon it felt like a year. “I am going to be too old for this before we get the third dock built, Dan,” he griped. Putting his feet up on Daniel’s desk, he sipped gratefully at the scotch sitting in front of him. “And I am going to have to do something about whoever has been smuggling booze. Even if it does hit the spot right now.” He knew better than to ask who among his crew was bringing the stuff aboard for Daniel, so he let the matter drop. “So, how are things going out here?”

  “First, who said it was smuggled?” Glancing at some printouts on his desk, Daniel shrugged. “And as well as can be expected. We haven’t had any more visitors. We now have a sensor net that covers an area that extends from halfway to Mars out to about the same distance from Jupiter. That’s lateral. Front to back, I’d say somewhat less.” Front to back referred to the areas ahead of Orion and behind her in the asteroid belt.

  “As for the ship itself, we are about a quarter done. The construction is primarily from the inside out as you know. As each section is finished, it’s pressure tested, and the next one out is started. Installing the hull plating itself effectively finishes that portion of the ship and works starts on braces so we had something to build on, so-to-speak Now we can pick up the pace. All the time that the beam extruders were turning out the keel beam, beams, spars, struts, main braces, and what not, the others were turning out deck plates and hull plates. And the other factories were busy stockpiling wire, cable, fiber optics, switches, control modules, seats, tables, nuts and bolts, and everything else. Now it’s just a great, big jigsaw puzzle.

  “Everything has been reconfigured to our own physical parameters, of course. That translates to more decks and more storage space and will make things a little less claustrophobic for everyone who works on her.”

  Simon took another sip of the scotch, eyeing the amber liquid speculatively. “We’ll be able to mount heavier lasers and more torpedoes, too?”

  “Oh, yes,” Daniel affirmed. “And even,” he bragged, “the newest thing out of R&D. I’m just glad they got the specs to us in time to allow for the interior modifications.”

  Simon looked away from his inspection of the drink in his hand to Daniel. “I’ve read all the reports that come across my desk. Did I miss something? The only thing I know about is something about re-configuring the capture fields into selectively permeable barriers.” He secretly patted himself on the back. A year ago that phrase would never have been in a conversation of his.

  “Right,” Daniel said, slipping into teacher mode, finding it a good aid in helping someone reach the answer by themselves. “Now take those same barriers and add a little more power to them. Remember, we’ve got power to spare out of an anti-matter core. Push ‘em out past the hull of the ship and you’ve got what?”

  Simon unconsciously set his drink down, forgotten, as the imagery Daniel’s words evoked cascaded through his mind. “Force fields!” he exclaimed. “Meteor shields, anti-missile defenses.” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at Daniel.

  “Exactly,” Daniel said. “And if we had had those when those ...” His voice cracked and Simon knew what went through his mind.

  “I wish we had them back then, too, Dan, but we didn’t,” Simon said, feeling the same pain Daniel did. “At least we have them now, though. Retrofit Orion and ...” His anger over the deaths of people who had trusted him he filed in a safe place. Someday he would be able to pull it out and deal with it, but now was not the time.

  Instead, he fell back on the age-old tactic of changing the subject. “Did I see a white hull as we came in?”

  Daniel sat up, relief showing on his face, and nodded. “One of the engineers found a way to add the coloring to the hull plates as they come out of the factory. Takes a little more time to set up, but once in place and functioning, it doesn’t slow anything down. And it makes the ship look less like the Galileo and more like a ship from some other race. Also, white reflects light and a ship doesn’t require as much energy to cool it. We are carrying the idea inside the ship, too. Humans are color-oriented critters, Simon. So, light colors in the work areas and corridors and restful pastels in the gyms, mess halls, etc. We are still debating what to do with the personal quarters. Have you thought of a name for her, yet?

  Simon looked his friend in the eye and smiled. “Yes, I have. And for the next five after that, too. I intend to name them after six of the premier science-fiction authors of at least my time. They will be named the Arthur C. Clarke, Larry Niven, Isaac Asimov, Anne McCaffrey, Andre Norton, and the one you are building right now, the flagship of our battle fleet, will be named the Robert A. Heinlein. I’m sure they will be referred to by the surnames only, and that’s all right with me, as I won’t mind being captain of a ship named Heinlein. And I just hope that he won’t be turning over in his grave at the thought that a fighting ship is named after him. He shouldn’t really since he spent a good part of his life in the navy.”

  Daniel looked at Simon questioningly. “I was never a sci-fi reader, before this, but I’ve read some of the stuff the guys brou
ght with them.” He shook his head, eyes casting to and fro as if in search of an answer. “I don’t get your choice of names.”

  Simon leaned forward, eager to find another topic to get them back to the present. “It’s not so much the particular authors, really, although they are the ones I read the most avidly when I found a new title on the shelves, or looked most forward to when there were sequels involved. It’s just that science-fiction authors are responsible in very large part for the fact that we have such an easy time getting volunteers. And sci-fi writers have been in the business of asking what if ... for the last hundred years or so. Surely, you’ve heard of Jules Verne?”

  “Well, yeah!” Daniel exclaimed. “The submarine show. Now that was a piece of engineering. Cheesy monsters, though.”

  Simon laughed out loud. “Well, Danny-me-lad, that book was written in the late eighteen hundreds, so that was science fiction, in its day. But look at the subs we’ve got today. And sci-fi authors predicted force fields a long time ago.” He turned serious as quickly as he had laughed. “I wonder why the Builders never took their technology to that level?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll ever know, Simon. Too much cultural difference, I’ll bet you.”

  Simon finished up his courtesy call on Orion’s skipper and returned to his quarters on Galileo, somewhat miffed that Kitty was still out on one of the continuous patrols. If not her sensors, then her radio should have informed her long ago of Galileo’s arrival. He had only been back for a couple of hours and already he was hearing gossip about the commandant of the fighter wing: how she spent as many hours up and out as possible, how she was turning the fighter wings into an elite group of ... what? ... loyal to her and her vision of what a fighter pilot should be? Could this really be the even-tempered woman he married? And to make a pistol a part of the uniform? A vision of her tear-streaked face kneeling over the shrouded body of Toni Putnam crossed his mind and he shivered involuntarily.