‘Why have they got you doing that?’ she asked, feeling that it was far too menial a task for someone as important as Shion to be performing. Shion, however, misunderstood the question.
‘Because,’ she said, in a dead-on imitation of Buzz’s avuncular manner when he’d explained this to her, ‘a hundred and sixty seven years ago a new strain of cryptosporidium got past automatic safety testing aboard a destroyer. Three quarters of the crew were infected and two of them died. So, ever since, the Fleet has supplemented auto-checks with daily manual testing. And even though the safety systems we now use are as near to infallible as human effort can contrive, it is traditional to test the water manually every day, dear girl, so that is reason enough to keep on doing it.’
Tass just stood there staring at her, completely nonplussed, as Shion gave her a friendly wink and went on her way.
The crew were still passing that one around amongst themselves, having a laugh about it, when the Eagle came into view shortly after 0900.
The arrival of the destroyer would in itself have been a matter of some interest to the Heron’s crew. Raptor class destroyers were arguably the finest ships in the Fleet. They were not on the same scale as the more impressive deity class carriers, but they were much faster and more manoeuvrable. Fourteen decks of raw power in a sleek hull design would have made any spacer pause for a moment and watch it coming into orbit.
It was immediately apparent, however, that the Eagle was not alone. It was flanked by two patrol ships, but all three Fleet ships were themselves in escort position to a vessel the size of a small liner. It was of rather old fashioned design, though the modernity of the field distribution units on its hull and the white hot glow of sixty eight mix cores on heatscan view made it clear that this was in fact a very fast ship.
‘Skipper!’
Alex looked up at the urgent note in Martine’s voice, as she was the first to notice the incoming squadron. Tearing himself away from reading new Admiralty rules about the way that air processing statistics were to be collected and reported, he looked at the screen Martine was pointing towards.
He recognised the ship immediately. Even many groundsiders would recognise the Fleet Alpha, after all.
In the same moment that recognition dawned, Alex also saw the brightly lit insignia on the hull. There was only one person in the entire League entitled to display that insignia on any ship he was travelling aboard.
Alex’s hand slapped down on the PA control.
‘All hands!’ he grabbed their attention with an imperative note in his voice that they’d only ever heard before when the ship was in combat operations. ‘Sparkle the ship! Now!’
They had no idea what was going on. Even those of them who’d recognised the Fleet Alpha coming in had not yet understood the significance of the presidential insignia displayed on the hull. Alex had never given that order before, either. On the rare occasions when it was felt necessary to polish the ship, it was Buzz who’d ask the crew to do so.
Bewildered as they were, though, the Heron’s crew had learned to jump to when the skipper gave an order. They could figure out what was going on later. For now, the urgency in Alex’s tone was enough to get them running to grab polishing kits.
‘Sorry, Buzz.’ Buzz had had the night watch and was currently asleep in his cabin, but Alex woke him with an alarm call, ‘I need you. The President’s here.’
Buzz was still a little drowsy from being woken from deep sleep.
‘Which president?’ he asked. That was a reasonable question, in fact. The League had many levels of government, from the League Senate through system, regional and national senates right down to city councils. The Fourth tended to have rather more than their fair share of government officials coming aboard, too. They’d had visits from the System President of Therik and of four national presidents during layovers at their home port.
‘The President!’ Alex told him. ‘President Tyborne!’
That woke Buzz up, fast. He was on the command deck in less than a minute, even as the Heron was adding their salute to Karadon’s. Fleet Alpha had moved into orbit some way ahead of the Heron, followed immediately by the Eagle and then the two patrol ships. Even the slowest member of the crew was aware by then that the League President had just arrived. You didn’t need to be any kind of genius to figure out that that was unlikely to be a coincidence. It was no surprise that he’d arrived without prior warning, either; presidential movements were highly classified and the media would not be allowed to report on it till he was safely back on Chartsey.
The stress put on their orders to remain here for these seventeen days suddenly made a lot of sense. Given Marc Tyborne’s reputation for impatience, too, it didn’t take much figuring out that if he was here to see Shion, he’d want to do so immediately. It was possible that he would ask for her to be brought over to the Fleet Alpha, but Alex felt that to be unlikely. If the President felt that Shion’s visit was so important that it justified him leaving Chartsey to come and meet her in person, he was unlikely to balk at coming the last few thousand klicks.
‘Is there a problem?’ Shion herself had come onto the command deck, mildly surprised by the sudden, frantic activity as the crew swept away coffee cups and polished everything in sight.
‘No – well, I hope not,’ Alex said, since he was only guessing at the president’s intentions, after all. ‘President Tyborne has just arrived.’
‘Oh.’ Shion studied the ship he indicated, with an air of interest. ‘Do we have to sparkle the ship if...’ she started to ask, but a priority call was coming in for Alex. He took it at once, recognising the caller ID and feeling a little surge of relief.
The man calling him was Dixon Gerard Arakin Harangay, First Lord of the Admiralty. His presence was hugely reassuring. Alex would be out of his depth in dealing with the President or indeed his aides, but he knew where he was with Dix.
‘Sir,’ he acknowledged, and seeing the First Lord’s grin as the comlink connected, relaxed even more.
‘Stand by for Presidential boarding party,’ Dix told him, without preamble, adding, ‘You’ve got three minutes,’ in an almost conversational tone.
It was barely two, in fact. The first shuttle came dashing over from the Fleet Alpha within seconds of Dix’s call, signalling that they were bringing the advance party of Presidential security.
The next two minutes were frantic. The situation was crazy even outside the ship. The media aboard the station, had been doing their best that morning with nothing more to work with than a rumour that the Fourth was going to blow up the starseekers on Karadon’s docking arm. Now, they had the unannounced arrival of the League President to report, even if it couldn’t be broadcast yet other than on the station channels. The media bombardment of the Heron asking for information was, though, only a small part of the number of calls they were getting. Everyone seemed to be calling them all at once, and ‘everyone’ in this context meant Jon Quilleran, Harry Alington, Captain Odama, the LIA, Fleet Intel and the Diplomatic Corps calling on official priority lines, while more than two hundred calls came in from others on the station and aboard the orbiting ships, mostly trying to contact mates aboard the frigate to find out what was going on.
On board the Heron, though, they were far too busy to take calls. Fevered polishing was going on everywhere and there was a very rapid changing of clothes, too. You did not, after all, wear shipboard fatigues to welcome the League President aboard your ship, and the order was given for all officers to change immediately into the more formal groundside rig.
They were also being invaded. A bewildering number of people in suits came through the airlock, some of them wearing high-security shades, none of them being introduced. Buzz had already scrambled into groundside rig when he realised what was going on, so he greeted the security team, assuring them of the Fourth’s full cooperation.
‘Just tell us what you need.’
The aide in charge of the advance party was just about to swing into a ve
ry well practiced lecture about just stepping back and leaving them to get on with their jobs, when Shion arrived. She too had changed into groundside uniform. She had picked up by now that most of the people on the Heron were assuming that the League President was here to see her.
‘Can I do anything to help?’ she asked Buzz, with a friendly smile for the advance party.
There was a moment, a wonderful moment that Buzz would have a laugh about later, when he had the time. All the security people and presidential aides suddenly went very still, the aide in charge just standing there with his mouth open.
This was just not playing according to script. Ambassador Shionolethe was known to the security team as Objective One. The aide’s priority was to establish her in the wardroom, which had been decided as the most suitable place for a meeting, clearing a route between the entry airlock and the wardroom door. Nowhere in that had it been anticipated that Objective One would turn up at the airlock and offer to help with arrangements for the meeting.
‘I expect they’d like you to go and wait somewhere,’ Buzz said, giving her an amused look and then the aide an enquiring one. ‘Yes?’
The aide managed to nod, without taking his eyes off Shion. His gaze was one of amazed respect, still mingling with shock.
‘Wardroom?’ he managed, making it a very courteous request.
‘Okay,’ Shion agreed cheerfully, and went away.
Buzz gave the presidential aide a pleasant smile. Seeing the amusement in his eyes, the aide and the rest of the security team suddenly became extremely dignified.
‘Thank you,’ said the aide, and began giving brisk orders. ‘The route from here to the wardroom is to be kept clear for the President. All other officers and members of crew must leave this route clear. Doors and hatches closed.’ Alex arrived as he was speaking, and got a brief nod. ‘Wait here, Skipper.’ Then he spoke to Buzz, ‘You, in the wardroom.’
It wasn’t rude, merely telegraphic. All of them understood that they had very little time to get ready for this, and none of them wanted the ship to look disorganised. They had even less time than Dix Harangay had said, too. Entirely in keeping with his reputation, President Tyborne’s shuttle set off from Fleet Alpha a good minute before he was due.
Somehow – Alex was never entirely sure how – the last few seconds of chaos resolved into a perfectly calm-looking, orderly scene as the president’s shuttle docked on. Bodyguards flanked the airlock, looking like well dressed robots. Alex and the aide stood facing the airlock, both taking a breath and composing themselves as the pressure equalised.
President Marc Tyborne stepped through the airlock. He did not ask permission to come aboard. He just strode through, still talking to one of the people who was following him.
The League President was a big man, tall and heavyweight. He had a jowly chin and beetle brows. He was rarely still even for a moment. Many of his meetings were held on the move, and aides had to get used to keeping up with his impetuous stride.
‘... immediately.’ He finished giving instructions to one of his aides, turning his attention to Alex in the same moment.
Alex saluted smartly.
‘Skipper Alexis von ...’ The aide began to introduce them, but the President waved that aside with a gesture that conveyed I know who he is. This was not, in fact, the first time they had met. Alex had been summoned to the presidential offices the year before, to be personally briefed by Marc Tyborne on the importance of respecting Karadon’s sovereignty.
‘von Strada,’ he greeted the skipper with a nod that combined brusqueness with approval, gesturing even as he did so to indicate that the skipper should show him to the wardroom. His whole manner conveyed that there was not a moment to be lost, certainly no time for social niceties.
Alex said ‘sir’ and led the way. He was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Meeting the president in the presidential office had been intimidating enough in itself, though the meeting had lasted less than four minutes and his only contribution to it had been a repeated acknowledgement of ‘sir’. Having the president turn up and board his ship was a different level of experience entirely, like having the head of state just turn up at your door expecting to come in for a coffee. Seeing Dix Harangay amongst those following the President wasn’t as comforting as he might have hoped, either. It seemed profoundly wrong to Alex to allow the First Lord to come aboard his ship with no more acknowledgement than the aides and strangers who were with him. Dix gave him an understanding look, but clearly expected Alex to give all his attention to escorting the President.
So Alex did so. The walk involved going down five decks through zero gee ladderways. Fortunately the President proved himself to be quite competent at these, though holding to the slide-rail that guided him down. Alex himself, like any spacer, merely pushed off the ladder as he swung into the zero gee zone, descending far more swiftly than the slide-rail. Other than the ladderways, all doors and hatches along the route were closed, the ship in a state of breathless silence. It took them less than half a minute to descend to the wardroom. The President spent some of that time looking about him with alert interest, some of it glancing at Alex with even keener interest, and some of it remarking, ‘Good work at Sixships.’
‘Sir,’ Alex said again. His manner was iron cold. It could not be anything else, in these most formal of circumstances.
He opened the door to the wardroom and stood back courteously, allowing the President to enter.
Marc Tyborne went in, slowing noticeably. It was apparent that he was making a conscious effort not to be intimidating to the alien ambassador, evidence in itself of previous encounters with Solarans.
Shion was there waiting for him, standing next to Buzz. She was looking rather more formal than usual, herself, standing up straight, her expression serious.
Alex did not feel, himself, that the meeting went well, though President Tyborne could not have been more courteous, greeting and welcoming Shion to League space.
‘It is indeed a very great honour and privilege to represent the League in extending the warmest greetings and assurances of friendship towards you and your people,’ he told her, in well-rehearsed, softly-spoken tones. Shion spoke just as formally in return, expressing gratitude for the kindness and hospitality she had experienced since arriving at Amali. Alex could see she was uncomfortable, though, and only became more so as introductions got under way. Not everyone was introduced; security people and aides attempted to fade themselves into the background as much as possible. A few of those accompanying the president, however, were of sufficient importance to be presented to her, including Dix Harangay, Ambassador Gerard, General Urlson and Senator Machet.
Alex had not even noticed the Senator amongst the pack of VIPs. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected, from the little he’d heard about her – no bustling sharp-nosed busybody, this, but a quiet and distinguished lady who merely greeted Shion with a smile. General Urlson, one of the presidential chiefs of staff, hailed her in a parade-ground bark, giving her an ‘Honoured, ma’am!’ that seemed to bewilder Shion a bit. Dix Harangay, at least, she greeted with some recognition and even pleasure. Alex was on tenterhooks just for a moment, afraid that Shion might come out with some hideously embarrassing remark such as, ‘I’ve heard all about you, the skipper says you’re brilliant.’ Shion, however, had mastered social skills sufficiently to answer Dix’s greeting with a cordial smile and no comment at all. She didn’t comment, either, on Ambassador Gerard’s greeting her in her own language, though she responded courteously to him doing so. Karlos Gerard was one of the League’s most senior exodiplomats, the diplomatic equivalent of the army chief of staff and the first lord.
‘How very kind,’ Shion said again, in return for the ambassador’s warm greetings.
She only ever said that, Alex knew, when she was feeling embarrassed. It had taken a while for him to understand what ‘kind’ and ‘real’ meant to Shion, how uncomfortable kindness made her and how highly she valued real, ge
nuine and equal relationships.
If any sense of this filtered through into the president’s awareness, however, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead he explained that they did not mean to rush or pressure her in any way, but that they would be greatly honoured if they could meet with her aboard the Fleet Alpha... the slightest of disparaging glances around the wardroom... where they had rather more appropriate venues.
Shion glanced at Alex.
‘Can the skipper come too?’ she asked, and the president agreed to that at once.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said, ‘Anyone you’d like with you, naturally.’
‘Just the skipper, thanks.’ She looked at Alex again, a little uncertainly. ‘If that’s all right with you?’
He would have sworn he didn’t move a muscle, but she shared with Davie North the evident ability to see beyond his stone-faced formal expression. Perhaps it was something in his eyes, the feeling of sympathy he had for her, his willingness to help her any way he could. At any rate he didn’t need to answer, as she saw the assent in his face, and gave a quick smile of relief. ‘Thanks.’
Alex, therefore, stayed with her as they went back aboard the presidential shuttle and headed over to the Fleet Alpha. President Tyborne did assure her that they were not expecting her to come right now, that they would be more than happy to wait on her convenience, but it would have been apparent to someone a lot less intelligent than Shion that they had come all this way to meet her, so keeping them waiting would have been discourteous.
Alex felt strangely as if he was holding Shion’s hand, in the hour that followed. He didn’t actually touch her, or even say anything beyond an impassive ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ to the occasional remarks made to him. She stayed close to him, though, and he was as aware of her anxiety as if she’d spoken it aloud. She became, indeed, very quiet and ceremonious herself when she was nervous, giving Alex some insight into why the exodiplomacy team at Alami had got their initial impressions of her so wrong. There were more introductions – a great many more introductions, as quite a number of other VIPs were aboard the president’s ship. They were joined there by Attaché Djembo, too, himself rather overwhelmed at finding himself in such company but concealing it well. And they were also, after half an hour or so, joined by Davie North.
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