by S MacDonald
Alex breathed again. Any kind of media call was an ordeal, but Joy Arthas had come up with a way to make them at least bearable. Restricted to giving straight yes or no answers, he came across as blunt and forthright but at least he didn’t appear psychotic.
‘Though I would,’ she said, ‘like you to give a report – the public version – just showing the charts of your journey and the stills we’ve authorised for release. And yes, I know,’ she said, seeing the objection on his face, ‘they’ve already been released to the media and reported to death with comment from every expert they could lay their hands on, but they will want to see it from you, Alex. And we, of course,’ she gestured at the other guests around her, ‘want to hear the real version from you. Can you do us something like a Mindful talk?’
‘We have a whole series of Mindful talks,’ Alex admitted. ‘On the journey, Oreol and what analysis we’ve been able to make of data from Carrearranis so far.’
Joy gave a little crow of pleasure. Mindful was officially nothing more than the Fourth’s academic society, of no more importance than the sports or music clubs. Contributors gave hour-long talks on subjects of their own choosing, which they also wrote up as articles for the Mindful magazine complete with full academic referencing. Like all shipboard publications, it was routinely copied to the Admiralty for filing in their records. It had been some time before Alex had discovered that the magazine was being widely distributed by the Admiralty themselves. Even so, the Mindful talks remained primarily a shipboard affair, with an eclectic range of topics in addition to those arising from whatever they might happen to be working on at the time.
‘Excellent!’ Joy said. ‘Though we’ll have to brief you first on the public version.’ She glanced around with some little regret. ‘In fact, as lovely as this is, perhaps we could go somewhere a little quieter…’
Alex took her to the room next door, which was used as the academic hangout when not needed for meetings. It had evidently already been decided who would take part in that, as several of the visitors followed the president whilst others remained in the lounge, and several Fourth’s personnel were discreetly touched on the elbow and asked to join the meeting, too.
Within a couple of minutes, they were all seated around the conference table, the happy babble of the party shut out and the atmosphere becoming purposeful.
Joy Arthas led the meeting, naturally, and told Alex what he needed to know while her aides provided copies of documents and media footage. Alex listened intently, giving no reaction until he was informed that the damage to his ships was being attributed to them having run into a radioactive cloud.
‘Er…’ he said, at that, with a look of bewildered consternation.
‘Yes, I know,’ Joy conceded the scientific implausibility of this with a rueful look. ‘But we could hardly tell them that your comms and scanners were taken out by ancient alien technology, could we?’
‘No…’ Alex still looked dubious. ‘But quite apart from the point that we used the Naos system to ensure that we didn’t run into any kind of hazard, it would be a strange kind of impact that only destroyed our comms and scanners while leaving all other hull systems intact.’
‘Trust me,’ the president requested. ‘We had to report that you’d taken some damage – quite apart from anything else, it makes a far more credible story for public consumption than claiming that you made the entire journey without so much as scratching your paintwork. So we’ve released images of the damage – suitably adjusted, of course, so it looks as if you ran through some kind of abrasive impact.’
Seeing the deeply sceptical look on his face, she smiled and shrugged.
‘No spacer will believe it for a moment, of course,’ she admitted. ‘But spacers will work out the truth at once anyway, and we’re not even trying to convince them. The people we are trying to present a credible narrative to are civilians, not just on Telathor but across the League as this news spreads out.’
Alex looked unconvinced. It was apparent that he was still concerned by the fact that images of his ships having taken damage had been released to the public, something the Fleet generally prevented on grounds of League security.
‘Am I going to have to comment on the damage?’ he asked, meaning, ‘Am I going to have to lie about it?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Joy confirmed. ‘I know it’s sensitive, Alex, but we had very little choice. Rumours had already gone public that your ships had been badly damaged in the expedition – rumours fuelled by the LIA’s efforts to whip up a panic amongst the authorities, it has to be said. The best we could do was play it down as minor cosmetic damage, bumps and scrapes.’
Alex’s face took on a set expression. He had done his best to include the League Intelligence Agency in the expedition, understanding that they considered it their duty to ensure that whatever the Fourth might find out here did not present any threat to League security.
Things had gone very badly wrong with that when the Fourth was turned away from Carrearranis by a burst from an unknown technology which had shattered their comms and scanner systems. The Fourth, Excorps and Davie were of the view that this was some kind of automated quarantine system and that the damage probably hadn’t even been intentional. The LIA on the other hand had been convinced that it was a weapons system and that this, inevitably, presaged the imminent invasion of Telathor. They had stormed off to Telathor as soon as they could, hell bent on convincing the authorities there that they must prepare for an alien invasion from a species with far more powerful weapons than anything humanity possessed. That was why Alex had sent Harry Alington to get in first and provide the voice of calm and reason. It didn’t surprise him that the LIA had been stirring up trouble, but it did concern him that such efforts had leaked into the public domain.
‘It was all rather…’ Joy hesitated, trying to choose the right word to describe the days of frenetic delight, confusion, terror and incredulity which had engulfed the authorities on Telathor as news was spread amongst them. ‘…emotional,’ she decided, and gave a wry smile. ‘Still is, rather. The LIA don’t give up on what they consider a major security threat just like that, and they’re not the only ones to have a kneejerk panic response, of course. I’m afraid we did have to leave Harry Alington there to keep a lid on things – he’s just so good at keeping people calm.’
Alex looked at Froggy Croker. The port admiral had been sent to Telathor specifically to support the Fourth on their mission and the Telathorans, too, if the Fourth was successful and it turned into a first contact situation. Really, he should have been the one who stayed at Telathor to keep everything under control.
Froggy grimaced, well aware of what Alex was thinking, and indeed of what the majority of people in the Fleet would think when they heard he’d come out here with the presidential party. They would think that he had abandoned his post to push his way into the mission for personal glory.
‘Much better than me,’ he confirmed.
‘It isn’t that – it’s just that he’s been there,’ Joy said. ‘He speaks from experience and people value that far more than someone passing on reports third-hand. He has the full confidence of the security services, too – not that you don’t,’ she added quickly, to Froggy, in case he took offence. ‘But Harry has a special relationship with them. And, let’s be fair, after what you called Director Seviche, relationships are somewhat strained.’
The port admiral tried to look apologetic, but there was more than a hint of defiant satisfaction in the set of his shoulders, too, which proclaimed that he was not one bit sorry that he’d called the LIA Director a paranoid fanatic talking out of his anus.
‘Please don’t blame Froggy for us keeping Harry,’ Joy looked back at Alex. ‘He said you wouldn’t like it, but I pulled executive authority, okay? Our need was greater, and we really do need him there, keeping things steady.’
‘Understood,’ said Alex, and was conscious of relief. Harry did indeed have superb social networking skills and had forged
excellent relationships with all the various security services, too – ironically because Alex had asked him to intervene in the blame-game frenzy which had erupted over who was responsible for letting a sniper shoot Alex in the head.
Unfortunately, though, Harry had a history of getting things wrong, which was why he was serving with the Fourth in the first place. It was doubtful whether he would ever live down his disastrous mishandling of a routine data gathering task at ISiS Karadon. More recently, he had officially reported to Froggy Croker, against all advice from Alex, that the Third Lord had suborned him to pass on secret reports about the Fourth in violation of both Fleet regulations and the conduct of a gentleman. So it was a relief to hear that he had been kept at Telathor for reasons which did credit both to him and the Fourth. Having considered a few seconds, indeed, Alex smiled, giving both the president and port admiral a nod of approval.
‘And we did all have to come here, too,’ Joy continued, aware that there must be a very large question mark hanging over that decision in Alex’s mind. ‘You can’t imagine the excitement at home, Alex – a global stop event, of course, partying all day and night, millions of people turning out in every city, the biggest public celebration in our history and, of course, entirely spontaneous and uncontrolled. Even with 99.9% of it just peaceful celebrating, the authorities struggled to contain the anti-social element and those whose consumption of alcohol got the better of them. I dread to think what hit our economy will have taken – my decision to disclose of course, which I do not regret for one moment, but there’s no denying that there’s a cost involved, both social and economic. It was a crucial part of managing that to decide how to respond, ourselves, to the disclosure. The obvious decision seemed to be to send supplies, along with Excorps and a diplomatic team, but it soon became apparent that the public wasn’t going to respond well to that. Opinion polls, you know…’ she spoke with the smile of a president who was used to taking her cue from public opinion as determined by extensive, official polling on the issues of the moment. ‘Overwhelmingly, almost unanimously in fact, the feeling was that this was such a momentous event that I should come out here myself, and not just me, either, but representatives of all our authorities and all our other organisations into the bargain. You just would not believe the competition for a place on this mission, Alex. There were half a million applications for a place within minutes of disclosure, everything from the Medical Association to high school astronomy clubs. There was nothing for it, we had to come out with a wide range of civilian representatives, if only to allay fears of government cover up. Which we are doing, of course, but only in the interests of public safety.’
Alex nodded again, though as he took in the fact that the president had not only brought a media pack out with her but a gaggle of civilians too, he felt a surge of amusement. To conduct a first contact mission in front of an audience of journalists and civilians certainly would be a first.
‘Are they fully briefed too?’ He enquired.
‘Yes.’ She grimaced at the memory. ‘They went wild, of course, when we told them about the Guardian, but things got very quiet when we told them about the damage to your ships – you have to admit that that is high impact, Alex, right up there at the top of the scale.’
‘It is,’ Alex agreed. ‘And if I hadn’t experienced some hairy moments in other exodiplomacy missions, I expect I’d feel the same way. But having nearly been obliterated by the Gider and led into an ambush by the Samartians, both times without the slightest hostile intention, I’m more open to believe that this was either unintentional or very carefully controlled damage. I do not believe that the Guardian will do us any harm so long as we respect the quarantine zone.’
‘I agree completely. They could certainly have attacked us at any time if that was their intention,’ Joy observed. ‘But the LIA, of course, have their own perspective on that.’ A wry look crossed her face. ‘I tried to prevent them coming but they were insistent, and I had to concede their right to observe and to advise me on issues they feel are vital to the safety of Telathor and the rest of the League. Don’t worry, though,’ she smiled at his bland expression, ‘We’ll keep them off your back as well. Basically, other than for giving a couple of interviews and talks when you can fit them in, we want you to carry on just as you would if we weren’t here.’
Alex gave her a startled look. ‘You’re not going to take over contact yourself?’ He queried.
‘Me? No!’ She exclaimed, as if the thought was quite shocking. ‘If and when things get to the appropriate stage, I would love to be introduced and extend the hand of friendship on behalf of Telathor, but this is your mission, Alex, you made first contact and it is absolutely in your hands, okay?’
Alex looked from her to His Excellency the League Ambassador to Telathor, who smiled and nodded confirmation.
‘We want you to aim for a treaty,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ Alex was conscious of a surge of delight. When he’d made first contact with Gide the diplomacy had been taken out of his hands in a matter of days and he had been told very firmly to go away and leave it to the professionals. His mission to Samart, too, had been capped at the level of agreeing in principle to future contact between them and the League, and his part in that had ended when he’d brought back a Samartian delegation to Chartsey. He had assumed that the Diplomatic Corps would sweep in again here and take over with little more than cursory thanks to the Fourth for their efforts. And, if Alex knew them, some critical remarks on how they could have done it better. To stay and see this through, with everything there was to play for, would be the biggest and most thrilling challenge of his career so far.
At one level, there would be the task of building a relationship with the Carrearranians, learning about them and finding some way to bring them into contact with other worlds without overwhelming them. At another level, though, would be the shining prize of gaining access to such tremendously advanced technology, with all the benefits that could give to their worlds not least in protecting them from the threat of invasion by the Marfikians. Alex tried very hard not to let his imagination run wild, but you’d have to be an idiot not to see the potential of a system which could disable any incoming craft so decisively and at such long range. Given that, the League could liberate all the worlds now under Marfikian domination, while their own worlds need never fear invasion again. It was a prize so valuable it would make anyone feel dizzy to contemplate. And the attempt to secure it would be in Alex’s hands.
The look of sheer joy on his face made it clear that he was exactly the right man for the job.
‘Excellent!’ he said, and sat forward, eager to get started.
Three
First, though, he had to deal with the less enjoyable aspects of the mission. Which meant, less than an hour later, facing the media pack on the president’s ship.
It was more than the media pack, actually. All the VIPs and official civilian representatives were there as well for the briefing, along with as many others as could jam themselves into every available space. Alex had never faced such a crowd before in public speaking, not merely in terms of numbers and all the cameras locked on to him, but in the uproar which greeted his arrival at the lectern. He was used to enraged yells and screamed abuse, but these people were cheering, on their feet, applauding and cheering him for so long that in the end the president had to ask them to sit down so that the presentation could start.
He was entirely rigid and inhuman, of course, barking out facts as the prepared audio-visual went out on the big screen behind him. First was a brief non-scientific explanation of why the region was so dangerous, known to spacers as ‘dirty space’ because it was in a state of highly energetic multi-dimensional flux which created lethal currents and enormous vortices. Then came a map showing the four systems which had been identified by long range observation as having green-world indicators, and the history of failed attempts to reach the nearest of them, Oreol. At the very mention of the name cheers erupted aga
in, everyone so excited at actually being there themselves, and Alex was obliged to put the talk on pause until the president had restored order once more.
‘The Fourth,’ he stated, ‘is testing a new and classified technology which enables us to map and therefore navigate such space. We were assigned to attempt navigation to Oreol. If that was successful, we were then to evaluate whether it was possible to attempt further exploration to one of the other green-indicator systems. This mission was classified because of the nature of the technology we were using. For this reason, the Telethoran authorities provided cover for the mission by announcing that we were there to investigate acts of piracy. Customs and Excise also provided support by maintaining the illusion that we were patrolling near-Telethoran space whilst we were actually on our exploration.’
As the map of their route through to Oreol was projected onto the screen, he gave the date, time and coordinates of the point at which they had crossed the League border, then a series of dry navigational data as the route was traced out, often reversing itself as they had run into blind alleys. Then he stated the date and time at which they had arrived at Oreol – no mention of the joyful triumph of that achievement, not even the hint of a smile as the image of a landscape appeared behind him and he said that they had claimed the system for the League.
The audience burst out laughing. There was nothing in either the image or the statement that was at all likely to stimulate such laughter. The scene was a bleak one; a vast plain of rock without so much as a boulder to break the monotony, and a standard-issue League flag stuck there as a legal claim to sovereignty.