"Major?"
"Gnngh."
"Major? Sir?"
"Gnngh. Is this an emergency?"
"No, sir."
"Is it 0830, when I'd asked to be woken?"
"No, sir. It is 0658."
*cough* "Then go away."
"I have my orders, sir."
*yawn* "Aren't I the highest-ranking officer on this damn planet?"
"Well, sir..."
*blink* "Because if I'm not, I want everybody higher than me dead by sundown."
"You may be the highest military officer, sir, but..."
*click* "Don't tell me. An envoy's here from the Ranch."
"Yes, sir."
"A special envoy."
"Yes, sir."
"SACUL."
"Yes, sir."
*sigh*
OK, so it wasn't an audible click. Still, helluva way to be woken up, especially after a night like mine.
I'd had a late night. I was only at the Mram residence about an hour before my little spectacle, but I had taken up Irene Hunter and Nigel Rathbone for their offer for some real Mendellian cuisine, and we'd spent the better part of another two hours talking.
"Where did you pick up those circus skills anyway?" asked Irene as we were sitting down.
I'd glanced over the menu, decided I couldn't decide, and ordered the special. Nigel and Irene had shared a glance at that. "Oh, here and there."
The food arrived pretty fast, probably because of the social status of everybody. "So," I'd asked over a fresh meal of seasoned food, which I couldn't quite identify most of but didn't really care, as it was delicious, "looks like you declared your own allegience just now."
They'd nodded. "It's only a few, the elites, who have a problem with Lord Atner," explained Irene. "Most of the people are a little more grateful for what Terra Group did--the populace has a long memory in Mendellia. Even--or I should say, especially--regarding the Queen. Your Lieutenant Bush is seen as a hero as much as the rest of you were, and many feel their relationship has a storybook quality to it. Adds to the romanticism. Not many object."
I'd sighed. "The big complaints are internal," I'd said, referring to Llessur Atner and her constant attempts to force one of her ladies-in-waiting on Thayer. Both nodded.
"The military likes Lord Atner, as well," Nigel then put in. "For one thing, he actually leads his troops in battle. That counts for a lot--he's sending a message there. He's not going to just send troops to their deaths; he'll fight with them." I'd nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Most New Republic leaders did the same thing. That's contributed a lot to the stability of the Republic during its first years. So what exactly is this I'm eating?"
"Tortoise," said Irene with a feral grin. I'd nearly choked.
"Isn't that sacrilegious or something?" I'd debated spitting it out, but eventually swallowed. It was very good, after all.
"Well, it's kind of a memorial. This," said Irene, pointing at her own dish, "is finch, flavored with tropical orange." I'd chuckled a bit and eaten some more tortoise. It really was that good.
"You'd call this," said Nigel, "a compromise of dishes. Traditional English dishes, made in a South and Central American style, with Mendellian native flora and fauna. The upshot is a Blue-Footed Booby and Kidney burrito with peas."
"Yikes."
The conversation had continued in that vein for a while, then turned to smaller matters. By the end, I knew that Terra Group was pretty safe from any large-scale political trouble. And I'd made a few local friends.
However, I did have a new job to do. Upon hearing that I was planning to leave within the next few days, Irene had asked me to do a small favor for her. I was, of course, more than happy to oblige.
So, it was long after midnight by the time I'd arrived back in the High Palace. Thayer had waited up for me, anxious to hear news.
"Well, I didn't score points with Sklat Mram, but no one died. I also made a few new friends: Irene Hunter, of the Ministry for International Relations, and Nigel Rathbone, Darwinian air commander." I'd related the whole story, including the dinner. Then I got to the favor I'd promised...
"You what?"
"Relax, Thayer. I just told her I'd go to New York City and straighten out some things with the United Nations."
"You just told her..."
"I said I'd be fine. Look, I have enough connections with the right people..."
He'd sighed. "Just don't screw this up, all right?"
"Yeah. Now, I need to hit the sack, and so do you.'
And now, about six hours later, here I was getting ready for a meeting that I was not looking forward to.
I pulled a fast-change act, showering quickly and dressing in a standard day uniform. I was in my office a half hour later, pulling my messages and drinking a cup of tea, when Zee let him in.
He was dressed, unsurprisingly, in a black suit, white shirt, black tie. Sunglasses, clean-shaven. Nothing about him was remarkable. He could pass for anyone, anywhere, and not leave much more than a faint memory when he left. If Terra Group was the "hunt and stop dangerous aliens, regulate interstellar contact, defend planet" arm of the Men In Black-esque organization we were, then SACUL, the Secret Agency for the Concealment of Universal Life, was the "wipe memory, cover up incidents, and don't let anything get out" arm.
Regulated from the one and only Skywalker Ranch, SACUL was extremely small--only a half a dozen people--but its political influence in the important areas was unmatched. And, since technically the first interstellar contact came through what was to become the Lucasfilm empire, SACUL still had enough pull to demand an 0730 meeting with me.
Damn bureaucrats. At least they still had to play nice.
He stopped and put out his hand. "Major, I'm Agent Evoc." We shook hands and I motioned him to a seat. "I've been asked here by SACUL to adress a few issues about your tactics."
"Please, be my guest," I said, with more patience in my voice than I actually had. I was keeping an eye on my messages at the same time. Hmm...Mike wants me to come down to the Bat-Cave Hangar before I leave. Time and date: Last night. Wonder what that's about? Do I even want to know?
"Frankly, Major, they're disgusting. You have, in the last thirteen months, caused more trouble for SACUL than anything in twenty years prior. Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince Mr. Spielberg to cover up the child from that Dressellian survey scout mission? And he's one of Mr. Lucas' friends. You smashed that record in your inaugural mission."
I nodded. "Things had to be stepped up a little. I know, it's better to do a Hari Seldon than a Salvor Hardin..."
"A what?"
"Don't ask. Anyway, the time for careful, long-term manipulation has passed. That's why Terra Group exists."
"Yes, maybe, but you've completely ignored being careful at anything at all!"
That stopped me short. "Excuse me?"
He slammed his hand on my desk. "Major, your troops--particularly one Lieutenant Cochran--are grandstanding. Their damn-fool cowboy diplomacy might have gotten them lucky a few times, but they really need to be more careful, or the last twenty years are going to come crashing down on us!"
"All right," I said. "Anything else?"
"No." He stood up. "Major, I understand that your job is insanely difficult. But it needs to be done, and you're the man we have. So don't screw up."
I nodded. "Good day, Agent Evoc."
"Good day, Scifantasy."
I fell back in my chair. Perfect.
Well, time to go. The breakfast before a mission's beginning has been something of a tradition since before Terra Group was formalized as such; I'll be expected. And I'll probably run into Mike then too, see what he wants.