“Because,” repeated the elegantly composed Colonial woman, “I am a girl.”
The woman, as she repeated the words spoken only moments earlier by the Commonwealth Ambassador Scipio Arien, kept her features impassive displaying no sign of emotion one way or the other. She was dressed in a soft charcoal dress the likes of which were worn by the serving staff present at the nights earlier affairs and was otherwise totally indistinguishable from the dozens of orderlies who had been attending those in attendance. With one hand planted on her hip, the other balancing a tray of beverages precariously, she remained otherwise motionless save for those made by her lips as she spoke. It was a practiced expression that she, and many like her, employed in their duties throughout the Colonies but just now in this setting, standing before the Vice Commodores desk as she was, it looked totally out of place.
Lance Shipwright, a man of eager aspirations for those he perceived as 'his people', sat behind his desk, palms folded neatly in his lap, listening intently as the woman (of sorts) replayed portions of the seemingly private discussions between Arien and Wilkar. Though a shrewed negotiator and strategist the Vice Commodore had flat out refused the recommendations, supported though they were by Admiral Mar-Veil, that the Colonials would be well served in 'bugging' the quarters assigned to the Commonwealth emissaries. That refusal had not brokered well with those privy to the decision but, none the less, they had elected to accept it as the final choice was his own as was true of so many aspects of Colonial life. Appearances could be deceiving, however; and few men were such consummate masters of misdirection as Lance Story Shipwright. Doubtless the Commonwealth party would have their own methods of securing their privacy from the prying eyes (and ears) of the Colonial citizenry (or otherwise) and just as doubtlessly they would be none-too-pleased by the idea of Colonial observation should those 'bugs' be detected. This was after all a mission of good will. Fortunately for Shipwright the Commonwealth Admiral Wilkar was known to be something of a lush when it came to strong drink and so it had been exceedingly easy to keep an eye (and ear) on their guests.
Since the early days of Galactic Technologies, predating the Colonies themselves, Lance Shipwright had been utilizing human-replica androids throughout his projects. The subtle, synthetic humanoids had insinuated themselves throughout Galactic Technologies and, though not a well known fact, they were in truth the eyes and ears of Lance Shipwright, an ever present observer of the events for which, by and large, he was singularly responsible. With the advent of the Gestalt Colonies these Delta-Unit androids became more and more common until, eventually, they had become so pervasive that it was rumored, even joked at, that within the Colonies there were more machines then men. Eventually the paradigm was expanded to include not only synthetic female androids but even animals like canine, felines and even birds. For those in the know, the likes of the Admiralty and Colonial Government, the saying went that nothing happened within the Colonies without his knowledge. Whether truth or exaggeration, it certainly applied here.
The Vice Commodore was not alone in his eavesdropping. Present was one of the most elusive men within the Colonies, High Cardinal Umarlrich Oyzamndais. Despite the publicity of his position, the office of High Cardinal was one of the most dynamic positions in the Colonies. He, a staunch man well in to his life and possessed of a vitality that belied his age, was a key component of Colonial society for it was he, and he alone, who held high the responsibility to guide the spirits and souls of the Colonies in the Way of David. Draped in his flowing robes, dressed down to belie his impressive build, he stood a dark, oppressive figure at the edge of the Vice Commodores desk.
“They think us savages,” said the High Cardinal. He spoke in a deep timbre heavily influenced by his accented inflection. “It would seem clear that Ambassador Arien has little or no formal understanding of what we have done here, on Gestalt.”
Lance Shipwright simply shrugged, “One could excuse their trepidation as simple caution, or precaution...”
“One could,” agreed Oyzamndais. “But for comments the likes of which would paint us as anything but what we are. Was it not the Admiral Wilkar himself who declared that if, and I do stress the word if much as the membership of the Commonwealth delegation has since their arrival, it will be by their terms not ours. We must accept full assimilation or nothing, it would seem.”
Here, the Vice Commodore smiled. “Things, as they say, are rarely what they seem. I would advise that this is the case here, tonight.”
All the same, in spite of his efforts to assuage the concerns of his counterpart, Lance Shipwright could understand the aggravation that gripped the High Cardinal even if he would not allow himself to be subject to the doubts that seemed to plague Oyzamndais. The fact was simply that the citizens of the Colonies had traversed great distances, both physical and metaphorical, on the road to civilization and their progress was evident in every facet of their society so it had struck the High Cardinal as something of an oddity that the Commonwealth party should handle the event with such kid gloves. It was clearly evident that Scipio Arien had reservations of her own and, to the eye of Oyzamndais, it was as though she was purposely striving to misunderstand the Colonials. An unparalleled master of the human condition, Oyzamndais had risen to his position because of his ability not only to read people but also his talents of manipulation exemplified in the manifestation of the Colonial faith, the Way of David, which was created and inspired by him and him alone.
“All the same Lance, I do not appreciate being regarded as though I were some sort of,” he trailed off.
“Aliens?” Shipwright finished the thought.
“Whatever,” snapped Oyzamndais.
Even the Vice Commodore had to admit a sympathetic understanding of the Commonwealth perspective. In the short history of the Gestalt Colonies the people of Gestalt had created a regimented society dedicated to the betterment of mankind, to the development of a society in which humanity could be assured of its own survival. They had instituted social reforms that, during the height of the Coalition, had been compared to the societal templates enforced by the Empire, by the New Order. Schools were everywhere; the average citizen far more highly educated then the galactic average. Health care was an omnipresent concern and to that end they had built hospitals dedicated to the well-being of every soul without discrimination based on creed, race, income or any other mitigating factors. Massive construction projects had been the earmark of Colonial expansion and the root cause of their unbridled success but even these gargantuan projects had been carried out with attention paid to the safety of the workers involved and indeed considerable portions of the expenses involved were alloted to pay the wages of the construction workers. Crime and poverty were practically unknown in the Colonies, the people enjoyed the benefits of secure and stable economy. The idea that the Colonies were anything but a Galactic level society however, left a foul taste on the tongue.
“People will always choose to see what they want to see,” concluded Lance Shipwright. “Though it pains me to admit simple species connection is not enough in these days of galactic unrest. We may be humans, but know this; we are just as much aliens to them.”
Oyzamndais parted his lips to object but Shipwright raised a hand to silence him. He knew well enough what the High Cardinal was going to say and had no desire to hear it. “I have a clever plan,” declared the Vice Commodore, resolute. “I have a clever and witty plan and it involves you, dear friend.”
His curiosity perked, the High Cardinal cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I simply must sit for this.”
He did.
“Let me first ask you; historically what do all Colonies have in common?”
Not a man to speak without forethought, Oyzamndais was silent for a long moment before he responded. In the lull Shipwright motioned that the android was dismissed.
“They all have existed to expand the power of nations,” ventured Oyzamndais reluctantly. He disliked providing such an uncertian answer but there was simply nothing for it as the question lacked the proper definition to have any uniform, concrete response. All the same he felt confident that he had provided the answer the Vice Commodore was fishing for but all the same, he added, “Historically all Colonial expansion has been carried out by nations seeking to expand their holdings, economically or otherwise.”
“Indeed,” replied Lance Shipwright knowingly. Their conversations tended to carry on according to a formula that was not unlike tennis. “If colonial expansion lends itself to national expansion, to whom were we beholden?”
“Ah,” supplied Oyzamndais. “I think I see where you are going with this. The answer, obviously, would be the New Galactic Coalition of Planets.”
“It would.” He indicated that Oyzamndais should continue. “But what now?”
“Now we find ourselves looking outside the Coalition for... patronage.” Oyzamndais pressed his thumb against his lip. “Now I am glad I sat down.”
“Can we do it?” The Vice Commodore asked, rising from his chair and moving towards the holographic receiver. Tapping in a few commands he opened a secure line between his office and the office of Corise Lucerne aboard the personal conveyance that had ferried him to the planet. “It will have to begin with your people.”
“Assuming that we are on the same page, without saying anything directly... seditious,” he chuckled, “I can work something in to tomorrow's mass. How 'to the point' shall I be?”
The Vice Commodore waved a hand dismissively, “The media campaign is in full swing. Be as direct as you feel there is a need to be.”
A moment later the holographic communicator beeped inspiring the Vice Commodore raise a finger to the High Cardinal, an unspoken silence fell between them. The image of Corise Lucerne, painted in dull grays, sprang to life, a ghostly bust floating in the recirculated air of the Commodores office.
“Lance,” spoke the hologram. Something in his tone told the Vice Commodore that his Kashan friend was not too pleased. “What can I do for you?'
“First off, I have to apologize for bringing you in to this. I had virtually no inclination that todays events would unfold... today. I promise you, my friend, that all will be explained as soon as I possibly can.” He said with all sincerity. “I just ask that you endure but a short time.”
“I trust you, Lance,” offered the Kashan Admiral. “But I thought we were supposed to oversee the installation of the Gencore units our people are constructing for you...”
“We will. That is part of what I wanted to talk to you about,” he imagined his own holographic disembodied bust floating, detached, in front of Corise. There was so much more that he wanted to say but even now he knew that what he had to say could not be told over a digital medium, even one so secure as the line shared between Corise and Lance exclusively. “Tomorrow we begin the first of what will probably be many days of formal negotiatons regarding Commonwealth membership. I know, that in itself probably has you all kinds of curious and I will explain it all as soon as time permits. I wanted to ask you, formally, to attend those negotiations as an informal observer. Then, following, I'd like to do our tour of the Gencore installations... but, if you don't mind I would like to allow the Commonwealth delegation to accompany us.”
“I cannot make any promises, Lance. I am sorry.” The Kashan Admiral sounded sincere and Shipwright had no reason to doubt that.
“I understand. Think on it and if we see you tomorrow, all the better. That's all I can ask.”
Corise nodded, virtually, “It's all I can offer at the moment.”
After a brief exchange of pleasantries less directed to the issues at hand the channel was closed. The line went dead leaving Shipwright and Oyzamndais to contemplate the next day.
They both hoped that tomorrow would bring a new and bright future to the peoples of the Colonies and as Oyzamndais prepared to leave he paused in the door and turned to Shipwright. He said, “Besides, if the Commonwealth lovers don't want us, there's always the League of Nations.”
He was only half joking.
*
The dawning of the new day was met with bird song.
Soon, the Commonwealth delegation would arrive. Shipwright had made a point of arriving early. The negotiations were to be held in the oak-room, an opulent meeting room in the high tower of the Government spire. Dominating the center of the room was a conference table cut from a single piece of wood that spanned the length of the room and was beset by chairs on either side. Off to the sides had been placed chairs of a far less impressive nature which were placed to accommodate any aides that the delegates might bring in tow while a buffet cart fit with light snacks sat off to one side.
Attendants were at a minimum and save for a few page-level workers the Colonial and Commonwealth parties would be alone for the duration of their discussions, formally. Digital projectors and interface key-pads had been placed at every second seat with open data input devices should either party require visual aides or otherwise.
Lance Shipwright was present, as would be Colonial Minister Ramos. The military would be sending Admiral Mar-Veil leaving the Vice Commodore hoping beyond hope that his friend Corise Lucerne would show but he knew that there remained a good chance that he would not.
He sighed. Everything was almost prepared…
“Lance!”
Storming through the doors came Paula Ramos. He had no expected her arrival so soon but the rushed nature of her arrival, her shirt still akimbo and hair slightly out of place told him that this was no ordinary entry.
“I’ve just heard. I don’t know how but the Coalition is sending Viryn Quell!”
“What?” Lance was both shocked and outraged. “How could they know?”
Paula simply shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, fuck,” was all Lance could muster in response.
This was most unexpected.
