This is the fifth and final installment of "New Management", a fanfic prequel to Isaac Asimov's early blood-and-thunder space opera "Black Friar of the Flame". The first four installments can be found here, here, here, and here.
Wern Thorba was a simple man from the valley of the Serru River. The younger son of a yeoman farmer, Thorba had inherited a modest sum of money upon his father's death, while his eldest brother inherited the family farm. Thorba had looked into the future, and seen a life spent laboring for his brother. This, he decided, was not the life he wanted, so he left the farm and went out to seek his fortune.
For a man of humble origins, the choice of occupations were few: farm laborer, or the priesthood, or soldiering. He had even less wish to work on a stranger's farm than on his brother's, and he felt no calling to serve the Gods, so he signed on with Captain Jord Skarda, and for four years had marched and fought across the sea in the Tresinuic Empire. Four years had ended with Skarda's capture and death at the hands of the barbarian Drantu, and the breakup of his company. Thorba had taken ship back to Lhasi, and was in Lhasinu at the court of King Carg seeking employment in the Royal Guard.
Entering the King's service, though, was no easy task. Lhasi was at peace, and likely to remain so as long as the Tresinuic Emperor was preoccupied fighting off the Drantu. The waiting list for a position in the Guard was currently about half a year long, and the price asked by the Guardmaster to jump him to the front of the list was far beyond his means. He might join the retinue of one of the nobles, but that didn't appeal to him. It mostly meant bullying the noble's peasants, and Thorba had seen enough of that sort of thing under Captain Skarda to last him a lifetime. Worse, if you spent long enough doing something like that, you started to like it. Thorba had seen men like that, and had no wish to become one himself. For now, he remained in Lhasinu hoping something would turn up.
He was in the throne room one day, watching the petitioners present their appeals to the King, when he heard the chamberlain announce, "Presenting to His Majesty the learned Nelda Hartz of the sky people, and members of her company." Thorba found himself craning his neck to see over the heads of the crowd. He had heard of the sky people, as who had not? They were said to occupy a villa here in the capital, and to have command of flying ships that sailed up to the sky and back. He was near the door to the throne room, so he got a good look at the sky people as they entered.
There were eleven of them in all. They seemed much like people at first glance, but the longer you looked at them the stranger they appeared. They all wore far more clothing than normal; with one exception, they were covered from neck to foot. They all had jutting noses, scaleless skin, and most bizarre of all, fur growing from the tops of their heads. As far as Thorba knew, most animals had scaly skin, just like people did; the only exception were the sarks, small pests that gnawed holes in walls and stole food, that had bodies covered in fur. If you took a sark, and changed it around to look like a person, the result would be very much like the sky people.
Five of the eleven wore tan uniforms, and another four wore blue, all with trousers like those worn by the northern barbarians. The leader of the group, the learned Nelda Hartz, wore a long, dark blue skirt and a white long-sleeved shirt, and carried a wide-brimmed dark blue hat in her left hand. The final member of the group also wore a long-sleeved shirt and carried a wide-brimmed hat, but he at least wore a civilized kilt woven in an unfamiliar but pleasant pattern of checks.
Hartz, the kilted man, and the five tan-clad guards (for so they clearly were), all bowed at the proper distance from the throne. The four blue-clad men belatedly followed suit. King Carg said, "Arise, my guests. Well do we know the learned Nelda Hartz, and her herald Weyum Mac Innis, and her Captain of Guards Anton Kora Vek. We bid you welcome. Who are your companions? For we do not recognize them, nor the fashion of their raiment."
The kilted herald, Weyum Mac Innis, spoke with the men in blue in a harsh tongue unfamiliar to Thorba. One of them answered briefly in the same language, and Mac Innis turned to address the King. "Your Majesty, I present to you the Sea Lord Ro Bon Hwa and his lieutenant Nwen Con Dan. The Sea Lord has come to seek Your Majesty's permission to recruit a company from among Your Majesty's subjects."
"Where would this company serve?" Carg asked.
"Your Majesty," Mac Innis answered without consulting his chief, "they would serve with the sky people, out among the stars."
That remark caused a murmur of astonishment among those present, and no wonder. Thorba had heard it said that the sky people literally came from the sky. Now a sky man had confirmed it from his own lips.
A sudden urgency gripped Thorba. He had come to Lhisanu seeking his future, and now here it had come seeking him. Thorba felt the hands of the Gods guiding events. Surely it was fate that had put him here at the Royal Palace just as the sky people had come seeking men such as him. With the sense of a man fulfilling his destiny, Thorba stood forth from the assembled courtiers and petitioners and spoke out: "Your Majesty, I urge you to grant the sky man's petition."
"Who are you, then, good man? Are you one of my subjects?"
"I am, Your Majesty. I am Wern Thorba of the Serru River country, a landless younger son seeking to make his way in the world. I came here seeking a place in your Royal Guard, but if you will permit it, I would join the company of the Sea Lord Ro Bon Hwa and serve among the stars."
Another man among the King's petitioners stood forth, a man of the northern hill country by his accent. "And I, Your Majesty. I am Sker Perna, likewise a landless younger son. I too would join the company of the sky people." As though Perna's words had unleashed a flood, a score more of those present offered to join the company of the sky people.
Carg raised his hand, and the Guardmaster, standing at his left, called for silence. Those present quickly ceased their speech. The King said into the silence, "I am well mindful of the many landless among my subjects seeking for employment where they may. If they wish to take service with the sky people, they may do so with my blessing. Sea Lord Ro Bon Hwa, your petition is granted. Form your company as you will, and may my subjects serve you well among the stars."
Ro Bon Hwa bowed low and spoke in his own harsh tongue. Mac Innis translated, "The Sea Lord Ro offers many thanks to Your Majesty." The Sea Lord spoke again, and Mac Innis relayed, "The Sea Lord Ro says further that all who would take service with him may come to the place of the sky people at the second interval after sunrise, there to be mustered into his company."
Thorba spared a glance then for the learned Nelda Hartz. Even though he had never set eyes upon the sky people before this day, it seemed to him that disappointment settled upon her frame. She, at least, did not think the King's decision a good one. Perhaps Thorba would learn why, after he had joined the company of the sky people.
THE END
Showing posts with label New Management. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Management. Show all posts
Friday, April 2, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
"New Management", part 4
This is the fourth installment of "New Management", a fanfic prequel to Isaac Asimov's early blood-and-thunder space opera "Black Friar of the Flame". The first three installments can be found here, here, and here.
"There is a tendency," said Admiral Roh, "to view the past through the lens of the present. Indeed, there are some who argue that that is the only way to view it; that one cannot understand an event in the past unless one has an analogous event in the present to compare it to."
William McInnis had concluded that even if you didn't already know that Roh had been an academic before the war, listening to him would have been evidence enough. How many times, McInnis wondered, had Roh made this same speech before the students at his military history lectures at New Beijing University? Dozens, he guessed.
"But the people of the past had their own reasons," Roh continued, "and it is up to us to see their world through their eyes, not just through our own. Consider the Terrestrial explorers who first encountered the Vegans two hundred years ago. When they established their policy of noninterference, it was not just of the Vegans they were thinking. Remember, interstellar travel was only fifteen years old then, and here they were, making first contact with an alien civilization only twenty-five light years from Earth. 'Surely,' they said to themselves, 'if we have come across another intelligent race so close to us in space, there must be a multitude of others yet undiscovered.' It was for these hypothetical other alien races, more than for the Vegans themselves, that they established the policy."
"And yet," Dr. Hartz answered him, "even if they had known that our Galaxy contained only themselves and the Vegans, I think they would still have adopted the policy. Without it, there was always the danger that mankind would regard the Vegans simply as a resource to be exploited, and not as fellow sapients deserving of the chance to be left alone to work out their own destiny for themselves."
There was a surreal quality to the scene, McInnis felt. Around them were the streets of Lhasinu, capital city of the island Kingdom of Lhasi. The bright glare of Vega was shielded by an overcast sky that threatened imminent rain. They passed through crowds of Vegans, looking almost -- but not quite -- human as they argued, gossiped, bargained, flirted, boasted, and otherwise interacted with each other. Here in Lhasi their fine scales were a golden yellow hue, though elsewhere on the planet you could find Vegans who were green, or blue, or red. The buildings had the unplanned, slapdash look that you only found here on Vega VI, or among the ancient cities of Earth. The streets wound among them wherever the Vegans had thought it might be convenient to walk, rather than being laid out beforehand by a planning commission or a real-estate developer.
In the midst of the brawling Vegan city, the small group of humans looked as out of place as a Vegan equinox-festival procession would have looked among the spotlessly clean shopping arcades of New Hamburg. At the head of the short column were Roh and Hartz carrying on their debate, the former accompanied by Lieutenant Commander Nguyen Cong Danh, the latter by Lieutenant Kovarik. The Sirian officers were guarded by two of their marines, while the whole party was flanked by four of Kovarik's security people. And, of course, there was McInnis himself, lodged in the middle of the group. Roh and Danh were wearing Sirian Navy dress uniforms, which McInnis had no trouble recognizing as near-duplicates of 21st century Royal Navy uniforms. The Sirian Marines were also in dress uniforms, also apparently modeled after 21st century British military uniforms. Kovarik and his security team were wearing their usual khaki uniforms, while Hartz wore a broad-brimmed hat, long-sleeved shirt, and ankle-length skirt. McInnis, as he usually did out in the field, wore a similar hat and shirt, along with a knee-length kilt and plenty of sunscreen on his legs. Since kilts were common male attire among the Vegans, it helped him to blend in with the locals.
The humans were on their way to an audience with Carg Jendo Porga, the King of Lhasi. Roh would be attempting to persuade King Carg to allow Vegans to serve in the Sirian military, while Hartz would be attempting to persuade him not to. McInnis would serve as translator, and Danh, a linguist who specialized in Lhasinuic, would be on hand to keep McInnis honest. While the two leaders continued their debate, McInnis fell in beside Danh and spoke in low-pitched Lhasinuic. "Does your chief talk like that all the time?"
"You can take the man out of the university," Danh responded in the same language, "but you can't take the university out of the man."
"What do you think of the idea of recruiting people?" People, of course, being the only Lhasinuic word for Vegan.
"I think the chief is right. We need soldiers, and the world has plenty of soldiers to spare." The world, of course, being the only Lhasinuic word for Vega VI.
"How good can they be?" McInnis wondered. "They don't have any machines more complicated than a catapault."
"You don't have to know how to build a sky ship to be a good soldier," said Danh. "All you have to know how to do is wield a weapon and obey orders, and the people are good at both."
That was true enough. If there was one thing the Vegans excelled at, it was fighting each other.
The group passed through the flagstoned square opposite the main gateway of the Royal Palace, and drew up in front of the two Vegan guards who stood flanking it. The gates, of stout wood crossed with iron bands, stood open. The Vegans, in mail shirts and iron helmets, clashed their spears onto the flagstones, and the one on the left called out loudly, "Who approaches the palace of Carg Jendo Porga, beloved of the Gods, King of the Lhasi and defender of his people?"
That was McInnis' cue. Stepping forward from the group, he responded equally loudly, "It is the learned Nelda Hartz of the sky people, friend of His Majesty, in the company of her countrymen. The learned Nelda Hartz has sent word to His Majesty seeking an audience, and His Majesty in his beneficence has seen fit to grant it. We come now in response to His Majesty's summons."
"Not bad," Danh said quietly in English.
"We recognize the learned Nelda Hartz, friend of His Majesty. Enter, then, by His Majesty's leave." The two guards raised their spears from the ground, expertly swung them in unison, and planted them again, this time points down. McInnis stepped back in among the other humans, and followed as Dr. Hartz led them through the gateway and into the palace grounds.
(to be continued)
"There is a tendency," said Admiral Roh, "to view the past through the lens of the present. Indeed, there are some who argue that that is the only way to view it; that one cannot understand an event in the past unless one has an analogous event in the present to compare it to."
William McInnis had concluded that even if you didn't already know that Roh had been an academic before the war, listening to him would have been evidence enough. How many times, McInnis wondered, had Roh made this same speech before the students at his military history lectures at New Beijing University? Dozens, he guessed.
"But the people of the past had their own reasons," Roh continued, "and it is up to us to see their world through their eyes, not just through our own. Consider the Terrestrial explorers who first encountered the Vegans two hundred years ago. When they established their policy of noninterference, it was not just of the Vegans they were thinking. Remember, interstellar travel was only fifteen years old then, and here they were, making first contact with an alien civilization only twenty-five light years from Earth. 'Surely,' they said to themselves, 'if we have come across another intelligent race so close to us in space, there must be a multitude of others yet undiscovered.' It was for these hypothetical other alien races, more than for the Vegans themselves, that they established the policy."
"And yet," Dr. Hartz answered him, "even if they had known that our Galaxy contained only themselves and the Vegans, I think they would still have adopted the policy. Without it, there was always the danger that mankind would regard the Vegans simply as a resource to be exploited, and not as fellow sapients deserving of the chance to be left alone to work out their own destiny for themselves."
There was a surreal quality to the scene, McInnis felt. Around them were the streets of Lhasinu, capital city of the island Kingdom of Lhasi. The bright glare of Vega was shielded by an overcast sky that threatened imminent rain. They passed through crowds of Vegans, looking almost -- but not quite -- human as they argued, gossiped, bargained, flirted, boasted, and otherwise interacted with each other. Here in Lhasi their fine scales were a golden yellow hue, though elsewhere on the planet you could find Vegans who were green, or blue, or red. The buildings had the unplanned, slapdash look that you only found here on Vega VI, or among the ancient cities of Earth. The streets wound among them wherever the Vegans had thought it might be convenient to walk, rather than being laid out beforehand by a planning commission or a real-estate developer.
In the midst of the brawling Vegan city, the small group of humans looked as out of place as a Vegan equinox-festival procession would have looked among the spotlessly clean shopping arcades of New Hamburg. At the head of the short column were Roh and Hartz carrying on their debate, the former accompanied by Lieutenant Commander Nguyen Cong Danh, the latter by Lieutenant Kovarik. The Sirian officers were guarded by two of their marines, while the whole party was flanked by four of Kovarik's security people. And, of course, there was McInnis himself, lodged in the middle of the group. Roh and Danh were wearing Sirian Navy dress uniforms, which McInnis had no trouble recognizing as near-duplicates of 21st century Royal Navy uniforms. The Sirian Marines were also in dress uniforms, also apparently modeled after 21st century British military uniforms. Kovarik and his security team were wearing their usual khaki uniforms, while Hartz wore a broad-brimmed hat, long-sleeved shirt, and ankle-length skirt. McInnis, as he usually did out in the field, wore a similar hat and shirt, along with a knee-length kilt and plenty of sunscreen on his legs. Since kilts were common male attire among the Vegans, it helped him to blend in with the locals.
The humans were on their way to an audience with Carg Jendo Porga, the King of Lhasi. Roh would be attempting to persuade King Carg to allow Vegans to serve in the Sirian military, while Hartz would be attempting to persuade him not to. McInnis would serve as translator, and Danh, a linguist who specialized in Lhasinuic, would be on hand to keep McInnis honest. While the two leaders continued their debate, McInnis fell in beside Danh and spoke in low-pitched Lhasinuic. "Does your chief talk like that all the time?"
"You can take the man out of the university," Danh responded in the same language, "but you can't take the university out of the man."
"What do you think of the idea of recruiting people?" People, of course, being the only Lhasinuic word for Vegan.
"I think the chief is right. We need soldiers, and the world has plenty of soldiers to spare." The world, of course, being the only Lhasinuic word for Vega VI.
"How good can they be?" McInnis wondered. "They don't have any machines more complicated than a catapault."
"You don't have to know how to build a sky ship to be a good soldier," said Danh. "All you have to know how to do is wield a weapon and obey orders, and the people are good at both."
That was true enough. If there was one thing the Vegans excelled at, it was fighting each other.
The group passed through the flagstoned square opposite the main gateway of the Royal Palace, and drew up in front of the two Vegan guards who stood flanking it. The gates, of stout wood crossed with iron bands, stood open. The Vegans, in mail shirts and iron helmets, clashed their spears onto the flagstones, and the one on the left called out loudly, "Who approaches the palace of Carg Jendo Porga, beloved of the Gods, King of the Lhasi and defender of his people?"
That was McInnis' cue. Stepping forward from the group, he responded equally loudly, "It is the learned Nelda Hartz of the sky people, friend of His Majesty, in the company of her countrymen. The learned Nelda Hartz has sent word to His Majesty seeking an audience, and His Majesty in his beneficence has seen fit to grant it. We come now in response to His Majesty's summons."
"Not bad," Danh said quietly in English.
"We recognize the learned Nelda Hartz, friend of His Majesty. Enter, then, by His Majesty's leave." The two guards raised their spears from the ground, expertly swung them in unison, and planted them again, this time points down. McInnis stepped back in among the other humans, and followed as Dr. Hartz led them through the gateway and into the palace grounds.
(to be continued)
Monday, March 29, 2010
"New Management", part 3
This is the third installment of "New Management", a fanfic prequel to Isaac Asimov's early blood-and-thunder space opera "Black Friar of the Flame". The first two installments can be found here and here.
Professor Adrienne Devereaux peered through her sunglasses around the compound's landing field. Even from a distance of 350 million kilometers, the star Vega appeared much brighter than the Sun did from Earth or Alpha A from Centaurus, so sunglasses were standard to protect the eyes, just as broad-brimmed hats and extensive clothing were standard to protect the skin from the star's ultraviolet rays. The Vegans of course had evolved to find the light of Vega perfectly satisfactory; no doubt they would find the light unpleasantly dim on Earth or Centaurus.
The Resolute was hours on its way back to Centaurus, and few at Lhasinu Base missed Major van Orden and his men. The man in command of the Sirian fleet, who called himself Admiral Roh, had contacted the base to inform them that his flagship would be sending down a boat. Now Devereaux was here along with Dr. Hartz and Lieutenant Kovarik to welcome its occupants to Vega VI. Hartz had informed Dr. Romano that she wanted him, as second-in-command, to monitor events from her office. Devereaux believed that Hartz had done this in order to keep the botanist out of the way during this critical meeting with the Sirians; if so, it was cleverly done.
"The Sirians are due to land in five minutes," Kovarik announced.
"Lieutenant," Devereaux asked him, "do you find anything ominous in the Sirians' uncommunicativeness? Apart from the message informing us of the arrival of this boat, they have remained silent."
"Ominous?" said Kovarik. "I don't think so. I think the Sirians are nervous. They have no idea what sort of reception to expect. We know that all of the Centaurian military left with the Resolute, but they can't know that. For all they know, we're just waiting for the opportunity to blow their boat out of the sky as a prelude to attacking their fleet."
Devereaux shook her head. "I'm still not used to the idea of being at war. It seems so . . . archaic. I half expect to hear Charles de Gaulle beaming defiant messages from London."
Initially a mere speck in the sky, the boat quickly grew into a solid object, raising a cloud of dust from the ground as it landed. In appearance it was much like the recently-departed boat that carried van Orden and his men away. When she remarked on this to Kovarik, he pointed out, "They were probably built to the same design. Standardized designs are a commonplace of modern shipbuilding technique."
The boat's main hatch opened, and a short set of stairs extended down to the ground. Three men emerged, all wearing the same uniform of dark blue jumpsuits and billed caps. All three wore sunglasses, as the three from the base did. That they were prepared for the bright light of Vega did not surprise Devereaux; men used to the light of Sirius would not find Vega unusual. The men exhibited Asian ancestry, as most of the people of Sirius did; the different nationalities of mankind had tended to separate themselves as they settled other worlds. Devereaux noted with distaste that the three were also armed; each wore a belt around his waist with a holstered sidearm.
The three men walked in unison across the concrete of the landing field, then halted three meters from the base's trio. The man in the center raised his hand to his forehead, then brought it down sharply to his side. She recognized the gesture from historical dramas as a salute, a form of greeting used by the military. No doubt the man had copied the gesture from those same historical dramas.
"Good day," the man said. "I am Commander Hashimoto of the Sirian Navy. My subordinates are Lieutenant Chen and Lieutenant Song."
"Good day, commander," Hartz responded. "I am Dr. Nelda Hartz, Chief Administrator of Lhasinu Base. This is Lieutenant Anton Kovarik, the Head of Security, and Professor Adrienne Devereaux, Head of the Biology Section. Welcome to Vega Six."
Hashimoto nodded to the three in turn, then addressed Kovarik. "As a member of the Centaurian military, Lieutenant, it is my unfortunate duty to declare you a prisoner of war."
"Lieutenant Kovarik is not with the Centaurian military," Hartz corrected the Sirian. "Technically, he is a member of the New Brussels Police Department, as are the rest of his security team."
"Ah," said Hashimoto. He seemed momentarily taken aback. Presumably, he had instructions for dealing with ordinary civilians, and instructions for dealing with military personnel, but no instructions for dealing with law enforcement officers. Finally, he said, "Lieutenant, you and your security team can remain in place for now, unless I receive orders to the contrary from my superiors."
Devereaux expected a sardonic comment from Kovarik, but the man simply nodded to Hashimoto.
"If you don't mind my asking, Commander," said Hartz, "why are you here? I wouldn't have thought that the Vega system held any strategic value."
"That's where you're wrong, Dr. Hartz," said Hashimoto with a slight smile. "This system has great strategic value. After all, Vega Six is the Galaxy's only source of trained soldiers, and trained soldiers are just what the Sirian Alliance needs."
(continue to part 4)
Professor Adrienne Devereaux peered through her sunglasses around the compound's landing field. Even from a distance of 350 million kilometers, the star Vega appeared much brighter than the Sun did from Earth or Alpha A from Centaurus, so sunglasses were standard to protect the eyes, just as broad-brimmed hats and extensive clothing were standard to protect the skin from the star's ultraviolet rays. The Vegans of course had evolved to find the light of Vega perfectly satisfactory; no doubt they would find the light unpleasantly dim on Earth or Centaurus.
The Resolute was hours on its way back to Centaurus, and few at Lhasinu Base missed Major van Orden and his men. The man in command of the Sirian fleet, who called himself Admiral Roh, had contacted the base to inform them that his flagship would be sending down a boat. Now Devereaux was here along with Dr. Hartz and Lieutenant Kovarik to welcome its occupants to Vega VI. Hartz had informed Dr. Romano that she wanted him, as second-in-command, to monitor events from her office. Devereaux believed that Hartz had done this in order to keep the botanist out of the way during this critical meeting with the Sirians; if so, it was cleverly done.
"The Sirians are due to land in five minutes," Kovarik announced.
"Lieutenant," Devereaux asked him, "do you find anything ominous in the Sirians' uncommunicativeness? Apart from the message informing us of the arrival of this boat, they have remained silent."
"Ominous?" said Kovarik. "I don't think so. I think the Sirians are nervous. They have no idea what sort of reception to expect. We know that all of the Centaurian military left with the Resolute, but they can't know that. For all they know, we're just waiting for the opportunity to blow their boat out of the sky as a prelude to attacking their fleet."
Devereaux shook her head. "I'm still not used to the idea of being at war. It seems so . . . archaic. I half expect to hear Charles de Gaulle beaming defiant messages from London."
Initially a mere speck in the sky, the boat quickly grew into a solid object, raising a cloud of dust from the ground as it landed. In appearance it was much like the recently-departed boat that carried van Orden and his men away. When she remarked on this to Kovarik, he pointed out, "They were probably built to the same design. Standardized designs are a commonplace of modern shipbuilding technique."
The boat's main hatch opened, and a short set of stairs extended down to the ground. Three men emerged, all wearing the same uniform of dark blue jumpsuits and billed caps. All three wore sunglasses, as the three from the base did. That they were prepared for the bright light of Vega did not surprise Devereaux; men used to the light of Sirius would not find Vega unusual. The men exhibited Asian ancestry, as most of the people of Sirius did; the different nationalities of mankind had tended to separate themselves as they settled other worlds. Devereaux noted with distaste that the three were also armed; each wore a belt around his waist with a holstered sidearm.
The three men walked in unison across the concrete of the landing field, then halted three meters from the base's trio. The man in the center raised his hand to his forehead, then brought it down sharply to his side. She recognized the gesture from historical dramas as a salute, a form of greeting used by the military. No doubt the man had copied the gesture from those same historical dramas.
"Good day," the man said. "I am Commander Hashimoto of the Sirian Navy. My subordinates are Lieutenant Chen and Lieutenant Song."
"Good day, commander," Hartz responded. "I am Dr. Nelda Hartz, Chief Administrator of Lhasinu Base. This is Lieutenant Anton Kovarik, the Head of Security, and Professor Adrienne Devereaux, Head of the Biology Section. Welcome to Vega Six."
Hashimoto nodded to the three in turn, then addressed Kovarik. "As a member of the Centaurian military, Lieutenant, it is my unfortunate duty to declare you a prisoner of war."
"Lieutenant Kovarik is not with the Centaurian military," Hartz corrected the Sirian. "Technically, he is a member of the New Brussels Police Department, as are the rest of his security team."
"Ah," said Hashimoto. He seemed momentarily taken aback. Presumably, he had instructions for dealing with ordinary civilians, and instructions for dealing with military personnel, but no instructions for dealing with law enforcement officers. Finally, he said, "Lieutenant, you and your security team can remain in place for now, unless I receive orders to the contrary from my superiors."
Devereaux expected a sardonic comment from Kovarik, but the man simply nodded to Hashimoto.
"If you don't mind my asking, Commander," said Hartz, "why are you here? I wouldn't have thought that the Vega system held any strategic value."
"That's where you're wrong, Dr. Hartz," said Hashimoto with a slight smile. "This system has great strategic value. After all, Vega Six is the Galaxy's only source of trained soldiers, and trained soldiers are just what the Sirian Alliance needs."
(continue to part 4)
Sunday, March 28, 2010
"New Management", part 2
This is the second installment of "New Management", a fanfic prequel to Isaac Asimov's early blood-and-thunder space opera "Black Friar of the Flame". The first installment can be found here.
Lieutenant Anton Kovarik sat in the canteen and watched as the scientists of Lhasinu Base drifted in. His job as head of security at the base allowed him to monitor all communications, and he had taken particular care to keep up with all of the traffic between Major van Orden and the Resolute, so he knew (and the members of his team knew) what Dr. Hartz was about to tell her staff.
Kovarik found the meeting to be typical of Hartz' management style. Rather than sending out the news in a text message, she brought her staff together to inform her them in person, and she had chosen to act sooner rather than later. Kovarik approved of both aspects of the decision; it was what made Hartz a good administrator.
The head of security noted the arrival of Giuseppi Romano, the base's deputy administrator. He sat himself at an otherwise empty table and spent his time staring out of the canteen's broad window at the alien cityscape of Lhasinu. Originally a senior member of the botany section, Romano had found himself unexpectedly thrust into his new role after van Orden's arrival. He was not a man who sought authority, and a year in the position had not made him like the job any better. He went out in the field as often as possible; he was scheduled to go out again tomorrow. Kovarik didn't think he would be doing so.
Teresa Karpinska and Adrienne Devereaux were sitting and talking quietly together, as they usually did in the canteen. The former had much in common with Hartz, including her training as a geologist and her sensible approach to life. The latter was the base's senior biologist, and exercised a good deal of unofficial authority by virtue of her age and scientific reputation. Either, in Kovarik's opinion, would have been a better choice for deputy director than Romano.
More and more members of the base's staff came in as Dr. Hartz' thirty-minute deadline approached. They seated themselves and chatted together or remained silent, as their natures dictated. The main topic of conversation was the reason for the sudden, unscheduled meeting, and several of the scientists had already correctly guessed it.
Finally, at the twenty-nine minute mark, Dr. Hartz entered. She motioned for the others to remain silent, and they did while she took up a position in front of the food dispensary.
"I've come here to bring you all some important news," she began, her hands clasped behind her back as she addressed the room. "According to Major van Orden, a fleet of Sirian ships has come out of hyperspace here in the Vegan system."
"Why would the Sirians send a fleet of ships here?" asked Devereaux.
"I don't know, Professor," Hartz answered. "I presume they'll explain their reasoning when they get here, which they will be doing by noon tomorrow. Major van Orden says that he and his men will be going up to the Resolute, and leaving the Vegan system to report back to Alpha Centauri."
"The famous military maneuver known as the strategic withdrawal," remarked William McInnis, a junior member of the linguistics section. There was laughter at his remark, and the tension in the room went down.
"That is all the information I have at the present time," Hartz continued. "I'll keep you all updated as the situation develops."
"Will they be sending us to the Sirian system for internment?" asked Karpinska.
"Why not?" Romano answered. "That's what we did to them."
The room was immediately plunged back into gloom. Upon his arrival the year before, Major van Orden had had two thirds of the base's personnel -- everyone from the Sirian Bloc and Earth -- removed and sent back to Centaurus as "security risks". The base's biology and sociology sections had been particularly hard-hit, since those specialties tended to be dominated by Terrestrials. Only Professor Devereaux's status as a naturalized Centaurian citizen -- and her formidable scientific reputation -- had kept her from joining her fellow Earth-born colleagues in internment. From a research point of view, the base had only been limping along since then. It hadn't made van Orden and his men very popular with the remaining base personnel, either.
"It is possible that some or all of us may be interned on Sirius V," Hartz answered. "It is even possible that the Sirians may shut down Lhasinu Base completely. However, as I said, we don't know why the Sirians are coming here, so we don't know what their plans are."
"Perhaps they're here to start a recruiting drive among the Vegans," suggested McInnis, and again there was laughter. Kovarik had to agree that the thought of the sword-swinging natives taking part in humanity's first interstellar war was a comical one.
(continue to part 3)
Lieutenant Anton Kovarik sat in the canteen and watched as the scientists of Lhasinu Base drifted in. His job as head of security at the base allowed him to monitor all communications, and he had taken particular care to keep up with all of the traffic between Major van Orden and the Resolute, so he knew (and the members of his team knew) what Dr. Hartz was about to tell her staff.
Kovarik found the meeting to be typical of Hartz' management style. Rather than sending out the news in a text message, she brought her staff together to inform her them in person, and she had chosen to act sooner rather than later. Kovarik approved of both aspects of the decision; it was what made Hartz a good administrator.
The head of security noted the arrival of Giuseppi Romano, the base's deputy administrator. He sat himself at an otherwise empty table and spent his time staring out of the canteen's broad window at the alien cityscape of Lhasinu. Originally a senior member of the botany section, Romano had found himself unexpectedly thrust into his new role after van Orden's arrival. He was not a man who sought authority, and a year in the position had not made him like the job any better. He went out in the field as often as possible; he was scheduled to go out again tomorrow. Kovarik didn't think he would be doing so.
Teresa Karpinska and Adrienne Devereaux were sitting and talking quietly together, as they usually did in the canteen. The former had much in common with Hartz, including her training as a geologist and her sensible approach to life. The latter was the base's senior biologist, and exercised a good deal of unofficial authority by virtue of her age and scientific reputation. Either, in Kovarik's opinion, would have been a better choice for deputy director than Romano.
More and more members of the base's staff came in as Dr. Hartz' thirty-minute deadline approached. They seated themselves and chatted together or remained silent, as their natures dictated. The main topic of conversation was the reason for the sudden, unscheduled meeting, and several of the scientists had already correctly guessed it.
Finally, at the twenty-nine minute mark, Dr. Hartz entered. She motioned for the others to remain silent, and they did while she took up a position in front of the food dispensary.
"I've come here to bring you all some important news," she began, her hands clasped behind her back as she addressed the room. "According to Major van Orden, a fleet of Sirian ships has come out of hyperspace here in the Vegan system."
"Why would the Sirians send a fleet of ships here?" asked Devereaux.
"I don't know, Professor," Hartz answered. "I presume they'll explain their reasoning when they get here, which they will be doing by noon tomorrow. Major van Orden says that he and his men will be going up to the Resolute, and leaving the Vegan system to report back to Alpha Centauri."
"The famous military maneuver known as the strategic withdrawal," remarked William McInnis, a junior member of the linguistics section. There was laughter at his remark, and the tension in the room went down.
"That is all the information I have at the present time," Hartz continued. "I'll keep you all updated as the situation develops."
"Will they be sending us to the Sirian system for internment?" asked Karpinska.
"Why not?" Romano answered. "That's what we did to them."
The room was immediately plunged back into gloom. Upon his arrival the year before, Major van Orden had had two thirds of the base's personnel -- everyone from the Sirian Bloc and Earth -- removed and sent back to Centaurus as "security risks". The base's biology and sociology sections had been particularly hard-hit, since those specialties tended to be dominated by Terrestrials. Only Professor Devereaux's status as a naturalized Centaurian citizen -- and her formidable scientific reputation -- had kept her from joining her fellow Earth-born colleagues in internment. From a research point of view, the base had only been limping along since then. It hadn't made van Orden and his men very popular with the remaining base personnel, either.
"It is possible that some or all of us may be interned on Sirius V," Hartz answered. "It is even possible that the Sirians may shut down Lhasinu Base completely. However, as I said, we don't know why the Sirians are coming here, so we don't know what their plans are."
"Perhaps they're here to start a recruiting drive among the Vegans," suggested McInnis, and again there was laughter. Kovarik had to agree that the thought of the sword-swinging natives taking part in humanity's first interstellar war was a comical one.
(continue to part 3)
"New Management" part 1
As promised (or threatened, as the case may be), the Johnny Pez blog now presents an original Asimov fanfic based on the much-derided space opera "Black Friar of the Flame". We now turn back the clock six thousand years before the Great Rebellion, when the human race was in the early centuries of its expansion through the Galaxy, and the Lhasinu were a pre-industrial race confined to their original homeworld . . .
New Management
by Johnny Pez
Dr. Nelda Hartz was enjoying a cup of tea in her office when the call came through from Major van Orden.
"Good morning, Major," Hartz said as the young officer's face appeared on her monitor. "What can I do for you?" The major was a relatively recent addition to the staff of Lhasinu Base, and his arrival had caused Hartz nothing but trouble. In theory, he was subordinate to her, but Hartz was not eager to test that theory by refusing one of his suggestions.
"Doctor, I've just received word from the Resolute that several ships have appeared in the Vega system from hyperspace," said van Orden. "We have to assume that this is a Sirian flotilla. The ships are expected to reach Vega VI by noon tomorrow local time."
Hartz felt despair settle into her soul at the news. Her faint hope that the war would bypass Vega VI, already cracked by Major van Orden's arrival, now broke asunder. "What is your response going to be, Major?" She feared that he would attempt to fight it out with the Sirians.
"My orders in this situation are clear," said van Orden. "In the event that an enemy force appears in numbers too great to resist, I am to withdraw my own forces and bring word back to the General Staff back on Centuarus. I have given orders for the Resolute to send a boat down to pick up our ground forces. We will be breaking orbit within twelve hours."
"Very well, Major," said Hartz. "Carry on." Van Orden nodded and ended the call.
Hartz sat at her desk and considered the situation as her tea grew cold. The upside of the situation was that with van Orden and his force (if you could call half a dozen volunteer militia a "force") withdrawing, there wouldn't be any fighting taking place in Lhasinu Base. The downside was that the Sirians were an unknown quantity. They might well shut down the base permanently, and they would certainly not allow Hartz to continue as Chief Administrator. Presumably she and the rest of the base staff from the Centauri Bloc would be interned as enemy aliens. She found herself shaking her head at the senselessness of the situation.
After two centuries, the human race was rediscovering the art of war. All across the hundreds of worlds settled by humanity since the discovery of hyperdrive, military organizations were being hastily set up, and merchant ships were being converted into warships. Two years ago, Major van Orden's grandly-named ACS Resolute had been an ore hauler called the Daisy, and van Orden himself had been a politically connected business owner.
Hartz found herself wondering why the politicians in the Stellar Parliament couldn't settle their disputes peacefully, then immediately answered herself that their disputes were beyond peaceful resolution. The Centaurians and their allies had dominated the Stellar Parliament since its foundation fifty-six years before, and they meant to maintain that domination. The Sirians and their allies were equally determined to assert their own independence.
As far as Hartz was concerned, there was little to admire about either side. Perhaps living here among the Vegans had distanced her from the rest of humanity, for she could honestly see no more reason to the current conflict than she could to the Vegans' own endless feudal disputes.
But there was no point in sitting here and pondering the situation. She had a scientific outpost to run, and it was up to her to prepare the rest of the staff for the impending arrival of the Sirians. Switching on the general intercom on her monitor, she said, "Attention all staff, this is the Chief Administrator. There will be a general staff meeting held in the canteen in thirty minutes' time. All staff are required to attend. I repeat, there will be a general staff meeting held in the canteen in thirty minutes' time, and all staff are required to attend. That is all."
Hartz switched off the intercom, then sat still for a moment. Garcia and Weddell were out doing field work among the Vegans. She would have to send word to them to drop what they were doing and return to base. They wouldn't be happy about it. Right now, though, the complaints she would be getting from them were the least of her worries.
(continue to part 2)
New Management
by Johnny Pez
Dr. Nelda Hartz was enjoying a cup of tea in her office when the call came through from Major van Orden.
"Good morning, Major," Hartz said as the young officer's face appeared on her monitor. "What can I do for you?" The major was a relatively recent addition to the staff of Lhasinu Base, and his arrival had caused Hartz nothing but trouble. In theory, he was subordinate to her, but Hartz was not eager to test that theory by refusing one of his suggestions.
"Doctor, I've just received word from the Resolute that several ships have appeared in the Vega system from hyperspace," said van Orden. "We have to assume that this is a Sirian flotilla. The ships are expected to reach Vega VI by noon tomorrow local time."
Hartz felt despair settle into her soul at the news. Her faint hope that the war would bypass Vega VI, already cracked by Major van Orden's arrival, now broke asunder. "What is your response going to be, Major?" She feared that he would attempt to fight it out with the Sirians.
"My orders in this situation are clear," said van Orden. "In the event that an enemy force appears in numbers too great to resist, I am to withdraw my own forces and bring word back to the General Staff back on Centuarus. I have given orders for the Resolute to send a boat down to pick up our ground forces. We will be breaking orbit within twelve hours."
"Very well, Major," said Hartz. "Carry on." Van Orden nodded and ended the call.
Hartz sat at her desk and considered the situation as her tea grew cold. The upside of the situation was that with van Orden and his force (if you could call half a dozen volunteer militia a "force") withdrawing, there wouldn't be any fighting taking place in Lhasinu Base. The downside was that the Sirians were an unknown quantity. They might well shut down the base permanently, and they would certainly not allow Hartz to continue as Chief Administrator. Presumably she and the rest of the base staff from the Centauri Bloc would be interned as enemy aliens. She found herself shaking her head at the senselessness of the situation.
After two centuries, the human race was rediscovering the art of war. All across the hundreds of worlds settled by humanity since the discovery of hyperdrive, military organizations were being hastily set up, and merchant ships were being converted into warships. Two years ago, Major van Orden's grandly-named ACS Resolute had been an ore hauler called the Daisy, and van Orden himself had been a politically connected business owner.
Hartz found herself wondering why the politicians in the Stellar Parliament couldn't settle their disputes peacefully, then immediately answered herself that their disputes were beyond peaceful resolution. The Centaurians and their allies had dominated the Stellar Parliament since its foundation fifty-six years before, and they meant to maintain that domination. The Sirians and their allies were equally determined to assert their own independence.
As far as Hartz was concerned, there was little to admire about either side. Perhaps living here among the Vegans had distanced her from the rest of humanity, for she could honestly see no more reason to the current conflict than she could to the Vegans' own endless feudal disputes.
But there was no point in sitting here and pondering the situation. She had a scientific outpost to run, and it was up to her to prepare the rest of the staff for the impending arrival of the Sirians. Switching on the general intercom on her monitor, she said, "Attention all staff, this is the Chief Administrator. There will be a general staff meeting held in the canteen in thirty minutes' time. All staff are required to attend. I repeat, there will be a general staff meeting held in the canteen in thirty minutes' time, and all staff are required to attend. That is all."
Hartz switched off the intercom, then sat still for a moment. Garcia and Weddell were out doing field work among the Vegans. She would have to send word to them to drop what they were doing and return to base. They wouldn't be happy about it. Right now, though, the complaints she would be getting from them were the least of her worries.
(continue to part 2)
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