Conversation throughout the ship rose noticeably after that, with an energetic buzz of excitement mixed with relief. Alex remained on the command deck, doing some paperwork but not attempting to hide the fact that he was watching as Rangi took her on the orientation tour. They were in the wardroom for a few minutes, and when they emerged she’d changed into shipboard rig. The overall-type uniform, soft-soled deck shoes and utility belt were hardly high style, but she looked comfortable in them, not the least bit self conscious.
By the time she’d been around the ship, it was clear, Shionolethe was a big hit with the crew. Rangi introduced her to everyone they met, and by the time they’d gone around, that really was everyone. Even crew who were supposed to be asleep right now, after nightwatch, had got up for this, and those who weren’t on the mess decks or at work in the areas she visited found all manner of ways to meet her. She shook hands with every one of them, smiling, repeating their names, charming and amazing them.
One of the amazing moments was when she was introduced to Able Star Jenni Asforth.
‘You’ve changed your hair,’ Shionolethe observed, with a look of friendly interest, and as Jenni stared at her in bewilderment, reminded her, ‘It used to be purple.’
Jenni burst out laughing, though looking at her incredulously, too.
‘How did you know that?’
‘You were on the news,’ Shionolethe told her. ‘At Karadon, when you told the director there that you were hacking their computers.’
Other crew nearby cracked up laughing at that, particularly those who’d been there at the time. Buzz had actually held auditions for a member of crew to take that call, being as outrageous and insulting as they could be while still being totally convincing. Jenni had won that easily, turning up for the audition wearing the kind of spray-spiked hair and garish makeup she’d favoured before joining the Fleet. She’d given her best gum-chewing insolent teenager performance, too, on a call that was actually intended for the media. She looked very different now, with ash blonde hair in a geometric crop, her manner adult and responsible.
‘Er ...’ Rangi was the only one not laughing, as he looked concerned. ‘You do know that the media really isn’t a reliable source of information about us, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes,’ she assured him, ‘I understand that, and about the PR situation. It’s interesting, though, to compare the various versions of events that different stations broadcast, along with what different people tell you about it. I enjoyed your Karadon operation very much.’ She gave them a twinkling look with that. ‘So clever, and you were obviously having a lot of fun, too.’
Alex heard the laughter and clamour as they agreed with that and told her the things that they’d enjoyed about it most. That moved rapidly into telling her how much fun it had been to blow up the Amity moonbase at Sixships, and Rangi had to intervene, after a few minutes, pointing out that they were supposed to finish the orientation tour within an hour and at this rate they wouldn’t get half way round the ship.
Everywhere she went, Alex saw, there was laughter and lively conversation that turned into pleased comment once she’d gone.
‘She’s not a bit stuck up, is she?’ he heard one crewman observe, after meeting her, ‘just lovely.’
That was, evidently, the general opinion on the ship. It pleased Alex that they were relating to her as a person, straight off. It made him feel quietly proud, that, though he knew that most of that was down to Shionolethe herself being so easy and friendly with them. He remembered Martine assuring him, ‘We’ll be cool, skipper,’ and he smiled, feeling that they were just that, his crew, cool and up for anything.
That was all the more apparent in the contrast between the way the Heron’s crew were welcoming her, and Candra Pattello’s response.
Alex knew already that Candra resented Shionolethe. Quite apart from her irrational but immovable concern that Shionolethe’s presence would somehow impact upon her research, she begrudged the time being spent going out to Amali to pick her up. The diplomats, she said, should have brought her to Therik, if for reasons beyond her comprehension it really was considered necessary for her to travel with the Fourth. Or, if the Heron absolutely had to go out to Amali to get her, they should have done that first, returning to Therik to pick the rest of them up before heading on to Karadon.
Martine had explained that that would have added at least four weeks and a port visit to their schedule. Launching starships didn’t come cheap – even the briefest call to port would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars for the use of the deceleration and launch tunnel, and involved a tremendous amount of work, too, on the ship. It was also the most dangerous manoeuvre any ship undertook, so not something any skipper did lightly.
Candra, however, was clearly of the view that it would have been far more reasonable for the frigate to come back to Therik for them. So, okay, it would have cost at least half a million dollars and delayed a warship on active operations, but those were trivial, in Candra’s opinion, compared to the inconvenience of her and her team having to sit on the ship for six weeks, twiddling their thumbs, before they could even start to go towards the test site. And if it really was impossible for the Fourth to come back to Therik, then another Fleet ship should have been made available to take them out to Karadon and rendezvous with the Heron, there.
Even Martine hadn’t been able to penetrate that breathtaking arrogance, though she had dealt patiently with the increasingly stupid complaints about how they could have managed things so that Candra and her team didn’t have to come to Amali with them.
Alex didn’t expect, therefore, that Candra would greet Shionolethe with cries of delight. He did, however, expect professionalism. He’d given all the Second’s people on the ship clearance and allowed them full knowledge of what was going on. In return, he expected that they complied with policy and did as he asked.
Candra, however, was not on-side, as she demonstrated when Rangi went to take Shionolethe into the lab. He didn’t knock – that had been one of Candra’s complaints, early on, that members of the Fourth came into the lab without so much as a by your leave, and Martine had had to explain that even though it was for the use of the Second Irregulars, it was after all still part of the ship, and a working area, too, not private quarters. As was polite, though, Rangi looked in and asked if it was a good time to introduce Shionolethe. The answer was clearly and very definitely in the negative, as Rangi looked shocked and stepped back, closing the door hastily and then pinning an embarrassed smile on his face.
‘Sorry,’ he said, and added, as if it explained everything, ‘Civilians.’
Shionolethe evidently didn’t take offence, just smiled pleasantly and carried on walking with him, but Alex’s expression hardened. There was no routine monitoring in the lab, since the Second had said they’d feel uncomfortable about that, but he was able to replay the incident, focussing the audio from the corridor recording. This time, he heard what was said from the other side of the door, Candra’s sharp voice clearly audible.
‘Not in here! She’s not allowed in here!’
Alex put a certified copy of that into an incident file. Tolerance for civilian stupidities was one thing, but he couldn’t, just couldn’t, tolerate a first contact ambassador being subjected to hostility from a passenger.
Fortunately, Shionolethe herself really didn’t seem to mind it, and laughed it off when he apologised for it, later.
‘Really, it doesn’t matter,’ she assured him. She was sitting in his cabin, Rangi having brought her there at the end of her orientation tour. ‘It was honest, and I value that.’ As he looked at her enquiringly, she smiled. ‘All the people at the base were very nice, just could not have been more welcoming or kind. But I did notice, of course I noticed, the difference in the way they spoke to me and the way they spoke with one another. I would like to be among people who do not use a special voice when I’m around, can just be themselves with me.’
Alex smiled understanding.
> ‘Well, we really don’t expect our passengers to be so discourteous to our officers,’ he said. ‘We would, I assure you, be concerned over that if you were any Sub-lt joining us, or even if you were a passenger yourself. She had no right to refuse you entry to the lab, let alone to be so rude about it. Anyway, I’m glad you weren’t upset by it.’
‘Upset?’ She looked startled for a moment, then gave a little gurgle of mirth. ‘I think you’ll find I’m quite resilient, skipper,’ she said, and added, quite kindly, ‘I’m not made of glass, you know.’
‘All right,’ he couldn’t help but grin at that, holding up his hands in an rueful gesture. ‘Please, forgive me – I’m not very experienced in exodiplomacy and I’m feeling my way, here.’
‘Well, me too,’ she pointed out, amused. ‘But if you’ll forgive me, skipper, I would really rather you didn’t regard me as an alien species. It’s quite unnerving, that, like not knowing quite who I am.’
‘I suppose, to you, it’s we who are the aliens,’ Alex observed.
‘No, you don’t understand,’ she said, with a smile. ‘On my world there are two kinds of people, the karee and the ayalee, the ancient and the hope. We are genetically very different. I am of the karee, the ancient people of our world. The ayalee are like you – you would recognise and accept them as human. But we do not see ourselves as different species, merely different genomes of the same people. All my life, you see, I’ve just been people. So to suddenly find people treating me as an alien species is a bit disconcerting.
‘And I’m really not an ambassador. I did explain this to them at the base but I could see they didn’t really believe it. The truth is that I am very much more like one of your backpackers, exploring, working passage, nobody at all important.’ She gave him a rather mischievous look. ‘Can you imagine how weird,’ she asked, ‘if you happened to be the first person from your world to go somewhere, just an ordinary person going there for a visit, and they thought you were an alien and made you an ambassador?’ As he laughed at the absurdity of that, she held up her own hands, helplessly. ‘Well, that’s how I feel!’
‘All right,’ he conceded, grinning. ‘But you have to understand that we have a tremendous mythology about Pirrell, so mysterious and obviously so much more advanced than we are, so to us, it is as if you have stepped out of a legend.’
‘Yes, I understand that,’ she agreed. ‘And Davie has explained about ‘royalty’ in your culture, too, particularly as it pertains to fairy tales, so I do feel it’s important to clarify that I am really not a princess, certainly not in any way like the princesses in your fairy-tales or historical romance. My titles are no more than a job title, really – if it translated as ‘third assistant to the deputy regional administrator’ you wouldn’t be nearly so impressed. And I don’t even do that any more – I have, in your vernacular, dropped out to go backpacking. I hitched a lift with the Solaran ship because they were coming to Amali anyway, and I’m asking to work passage with you because, frankly, I want in on the adventure. I know what you do, how hard and how worthwhile it is and how much fun you have doing it. I would very much like to be part of that and I believe that I can make a contribution, too, to become genuinely part of the team.’
He believed she could, too, and nodded approval. ‘That will take time, though,’ he warned. ‘We have a lot to learn about each other, and I’m sorry, but I really can’t just put you to work as an officer – even if you know every detail of this ship’s specs down to the last rivet and can quote Fleet handbooks verbatim, you haven’t graduated from an Academy. Cadet training is about far more than learning tech and regs, it’s about absorbing the culture, social expectations and qualities required in an officer. There is, as far as I know, no precedent for this situation so we’re just going to have to work it out as we go along. What I’d like to suggest, though, if you’re willing, is that you spend the first month with us doing the same as Fleet cadets do in their final year shipboard assignment. That would mean you working around the departments, observing how they operate and assisting the officers with routine tasks. Would you be happy with that?’
‘Very.’ She smiled and he could see she was really pleased. ‘Thank you, skipper.’ Then, in the next breath, ‘When can I start?’
‘Today, if you like,’ he said, and seeing delighted agreement on her face, ‘You can start in engineering.’
‘Excellent,’ she said, and started to get up, as if thinking that that was the end of the meeting. She was quick to notice when Alex held up a hand, however, and sat down again, looking attentive.
‘Three things,’ he said, pleasantly. ‘Firstly, I have to ask that you do, please, conduct yourself as if you are a final year cadet on shipboard assignment, being mindful that you do not have an officer’s authority here, that most of the crew are highly qualified and certainly more experienced than you are, and that asking them to help you learn will go down a lot better, both with them and with me, than trying to boss them about – that’s what I was told, myself, word for word, when I joined the ship I did my shipboard placement on,’ he explained, with a grin, ‘and it was very good advice, so I’m passing it on.’
She nodded, smiling acknowledgement, so he went on, ‘Secondly, while fully respecting your wish to be treated just like any other member of the crew, I can’t just ignore the fact that you are a visitor to our worlds and I do have special responsibility for you in that, so I would like an assurance that you will come to me with any concerns or questions you may have, all right?’
‘Yes, skipper,’ she agreed at once.
‘Good. Thirdly, then,’ his grin quirked back, giving him the boyish look only his crew and friends ever got to see, ‘I have to ask if you are satisfied with the provision made for you – ask you officially, I mean. We can’t leave until the port admiral gives us permission to depart, and that won’t happen until you notify the ambassador that you are satisfied with the provision made and happy to go with us. I really don’t mind staying, if you want some time to get to know us.’ He meant ‘in case you change your mind’, and she obviously understood that.
‘No, no, please!’ she said, ‘let’s go!’ Then, as he laughed, she looked a little apologetic. ‘Sorry – it’s your decision, of course, when we go. What I meant to say was please, don’t stay on my account. I’ve been here for more than eight months now, and as lovely as they’ve been in looking after me so well, I would very much like to see somewhere else. Is there something I have to sign?’
‘There is,’ he confirmed, and provided the document. It was a form of indemnity, Shionolethe confirming her intention to depart aboard the Fourth’s ship and acknowledging that she had been fully advised as to the provision to be made for her there, and the dangers involved. She signed it with no more than a glance, but Alex knew she could read and indeed memorise far more complex documents than this at a glance, so countersigned to certify that she had read and signed it in his presence. Then he signalled a copy to the base.
‘It may take them a while to process it,’ he said, with some experience of the meticulous way that diplomats handled paperwork. ‘But we’ll leave as soon as we have clearance to depart. The Stepeasy has already told us they’re ready to leave at any time.’ That had been a call to Buzz, earlier, from the Stepeasy’s exec, an ex-Fleet officer himself, confirming that they were ready for departure and would follow the Heron’s lead. Alex was watching for her reaction to that, alert for any hint as to her feelings about Davie North and his ship accompanying them, and she smiled as if that was something she already knew.
‘Davie said he’ll come with as far as Karadon,’ she said, matter of factly. That was where she’d learned her idiomatic grasp of the language, Alex realised. He could hear Davie North saying just that, echoed in her words, even the slight Flancerian accent and dialect, ‘he’ll come with.’
It was amazing, really. Even after a hundred years of diplomatic contact and visits, communication with Solarans was painfully slow, disjointed and frequ
ently broke down entirely in helpless incomprehension. Yet here was a visitor from a world that had been isolated for thousands of years, just a few months into her visit, so fluent with the language that you’d never even guess she was foreign, let alone alien. ‘He’s been wonderful, helping me,’ she added. ‘He’s a good friend. And he understands how important it is to me to be independent, making my own way.’ She grinned, ‘He told me he’d join the Fourth himself, given the choice.’
Davie had once said that to Alex, too, and Alex laughed as he had then. Davie North already owned corporations that spanned the League, including major shipyards and the ISiS stations that were an essential part of intersystem trade and transport. He was also heir to a business empire on a scale that Alex could only guess at. He could only imagine, too, Andrei Delaney’s reaction to any suggestion that his son gave all that up to join any military service, let alone the infamous Fourth. He had, Alex was aware, given strict orders that Davie was not to be allowed to go aboard the Heron. And even in some alternate universe where none of that applied and Davie really could just join the Fourth as a civilian stepping straight into service with them, he was still not old enough. He had, after all, only recently turned fifteen.
‘I like him, too,’ Alex told her, ‘And if you want to call or go over to the Stepeasy at any time, of course, you are free to do so.’
‘Thank you, skipper,’ she said, though in a way that made it apparent she didn’t anticipate doing so, or at least, not often. ‘There is one thing I would like to ask, though – would it be possible for me, please, to sign up for pilot training? I understand I can’t pilot until I have a license, and Froggy said to ask you about that.’
‘Yes, of course, no problem,’ Alex assured her. ‘I’ll ask Lt Vergan to arrange that with you – he’s our pilot instructor. The theory tests will be just a formality for you, I’m sure, but you’ll have to do the required hours and exercises in the simulator and training flights before you get your license.’ He remembered that the name she’d chosen to be known by during her visit here meant ‘free spirit in flight’ and looked at her curiously. ‘Is it important to you, piloting?’
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