Ultimately, the decision that the Sub-Committee had made had annoyed everybody but Mako and the Fourth. The LPA had been outraged to be told that they could not withdraw Mako from his posting there on grounds of League Security, and the Diplomatic Corps had been equally indignant to be told that they could not pirate Mr Ireson from the Fourth or put any undue pressure on him to go to work for them. An awkward arrangement had been imposed under which Mako would work as a prisons inspector if and when the Fourth carried prisoners, but other than that could be employed as a civilian consultant, managing the interdeck facilities and taking care of guests, both human and any further exo-visitors the Fourth might have aboard. He would, in that capacity, be under Alex’s authority, not that of the Diplomatic Corps.
Publicly, the diplomatic service had accepted that decision with professional decorum. Privately, things had been said about how selfish, even unpatriotic, both Captain von Strada and Mr Ireson were being over this. It would not have been surprising, really, for the diplomatic team here to feel just a little sensitive over meeting the object of such in-fighting. They certainly didn’t seem to feel that, though, as they all smiled and Attaché Desmoulin said again that that was very kind.
‘We will try not to impose,’ he promised, then turned with a smile as Mako was scooting up through the zero gee ladderway by then.
Introductions were made, not just to Mako but also to the ship’s medic who appeared on the command deck at the same time. Rangi Tekawa was also pleased to have passengers aboard – it would be his job to give them the official safety-tour of the ship and he always enjoyed doing that.
‘Shall we say half an hour to settle in, then I’ll take you on the tour,’ he suggested, and that having been agreed, Mako led them off to show them to their quarters.
As they left the command deck, Alex did too, heading for his cabin and sending messages as he went to both Harry Alington and Dan Tarrance to come and join him there.
They arrived very quickly. In fact, since Alex had joked about how quickly Dan Tarrance always responded to such requests, commenting that he must sleep aboard a shuttle, it had become something of an issue for Harry Alington to get there at least as quickly as the patrol ship skipper, and wherever humanly possible, first.
He managed that today simply by asserting his seniority as both shuttles launched, so Dan was obliged to follow and dock at a secondary airlock. It would have irritated Harry to know that Dan didn’t feel the least bit put in his place by this manoeuvre. In fact, he didn’t even notice it. He had no interest at all in Harry Alington’s petty power games.
‘Gentlemen,’ Alex greeted them with his customary hospitable gesture, welcoming them into his daycabin. ‘There have,’ he told them, ‘been some developments.’
That was an understatement, if ever there was one. It was apparent from the set of orders handed to him that they were the thirty seventh to be issued from the First Lord’s office, each new set of orders superseding the last. Even a glance at the enormous accompanying briefing files told its own story about the scale of events. Fortunately Dix Harangay had summarised it for him in his usual punchy bullet points. ‘I have to tell you that…’
He broke off as the door opened again, and seemed about to protest for a moment, the words ‘Not now, Mr Triesse’ hovering on his tongue. Then he ran the ensuing conversation through his head – the hurt puppy look, the apology, the explanation that Banno had only been trying to be of service – and realising that that would take more time than simply allowing him to deposit his tray, counted to five in his head and then continued as the door closed, ‘There has been a change of plan. Mr North is on his way, bringing the quarian ambassador out to us – we can expect them within the next day or two. Things have not, apparently, been going very well. Admiral Harangay describes her visit to Chartsey as ‘disastrous’ and we are asked to do everything we can to support Mr North in that diplomacy effort. At the same time, at the Telathor end of things, the Telathorans have made very strong representations to the Senate over the issue of our making a courtesy visit, and that decision has been made – our orders are now to go to Telathor before we undertake our primary mission.’
He spoke with some resignation, at that, remembering his confident assertion that they would not have to go there.
‘They have also been informed of the impending arrival of the quarian ambassador,’ he said, ‘and could not be any more enthusiastic about having her visit, too. Clearly, it is hoped that the Stepeasy will come with us to Telathor and we’ll support Mr North in that visit, then head out on our mission for which the Stepeasy may or may not join us, according to how things have gone at Telathor. It is possible even that we may have to postpone the mission… here, see for yourselves.’
He gave them the orders to read and drank some coffee while they did so. Both skippers looked concerned, though for very different reasons. Dan was homing in on exactly what the problems were with the quarian ambassador, anxious about the implications for the relationship with Quarus and future exodiplomacy. Harry was looking for clear instructions on exactly what they were being told to do. He found none, only an alarmingly vague ‘at your discretion’.
‘But…’ he protested, ‘there’s not even a prioritisation on the objectives – and what does it mean, ‘at your discretion, considering political sensitivities, potential benefits of your current mission and the importance of the relationship with Quarus’?’
‘It means,’ said Alex, with a dry note, ‘that I have to decide, based on the circumstances at the time, what to prioritise. Clearly, the relationship with Quarus is vital so that would naturally be my first priority, but if, say, the ambassador decides that she doesn’t want to go to Telathor or Phenomenon hunting, suppose she wants us to go with her to Canelon or somewhere instead, I have to make that decision, bearing in mind that to ditch this mission and the courtesy visit would cause massive offence to Telathor, damaging their relationship with the Senate and kicking off political storms which might go on for years. At the same time, I must also bear in mind the importance of the mission we have been tasked to, here, the tremendous potential benefits of that and the huge effort and expense that has already gone into it.’
‘Tough call,’ Dan observed, looking up from his screens. ‘Someone will kick off no matter what you decide.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ Alex said. ‘So we can only hope that we can find a way to rescue the quarian visit, keep the Telethorans happy and fulfil our mission.’
Harry was staring at him, horrified.
‘But this is…’
‘What we do.’ Alex cut across him, and gave him a calm, friendly smile. He didn’t feel any friendlier towards Harry Alington than he had at any time they’d known one another, but he had practiced that amicable ‘dealing with Harry’ smile so much now that it flowed easily onto his face. ‘I know, it is a major additional challenge, but we can only do our best to rise to it, figure things out as we go along and make the best decisions that we can.’
Harry actually shivered, an involuntary reaction to the skin-crawling horror he felt. It had been hard enough for him to cope with the mission they were already tasked to, with such vague orders and a terrifying sense that they didn’t really know what they were doing. But now a whole new level of uncertainty had been thrown into the mix.
‘You mean,’ he said, in a hollow voice, ‘we’ll have to wing it.’
Alex nodded, not without some sympathy for the fear he could see in the other man’s eyes.
‘Big league stuff,’ he acknowledged. ‘Huge responsibility.’ Then he indicated the insignia on his collar and gave another smile. ‘But that is what they pay me for.’
Harry stared at him. His feelings were written all over his face – the doubt, the lack of trust, the dismay, the absolute certainty that Alex von Strada did not have a clue what he was doing. And then, of course, the fear, not just for their success or failure in the missions, but for himself.
‘But… I’m second in com
mand.’ His voice was a little unsteady, and he paused for a moment, swallowed and spoke more firmly, ‘That means I have to advise… and I don’t know… I just don’t have the experience.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Alex. ‘Whatever advice you give, all the responsibility is mine, so there’ll be no repercussions on you. And all I ask, from you or any other member of the team, is that you give me your honest, considered opinion. So – as I see it, our first objective is to engage with the quarian ambassador and see if we can persuade her to come to Telathor with us. If we can achieve that, our next priority will be to work with her, Mr North and the Telethoran authorities to make that visit a success.’
Dan, who was reading a precis of the visit to Chartsey, gave a little snort at that and cast a worried look at the captain.
‘Going to be tricky, skipper,’ he prophesied.
Alex gave him a grin in which there was a gleam of mischief.
‘If it was easy,’ he pointed out, ‘they wouldn’t have asked us to do it.’
Dan gave a reluctant chuckle. ‘Fair enough,’ he conceded, and got right to the heart of the matter. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Take point on liaison with Excorps and the Fleet,’ said Alex, and as Harry stiffened at this breach of decorum in the junior skipper being given his assignment first, turned straight to him. ‘I want you to take on liaison with the Telethorans.’ He indicated the presidential transport.
They knew, by then, why it was there – the Telethorans were so keen for this visit that they’d sent out a team to intercept the Fourth at Kavenko and bring them to the planet. The transport was also ready to provide accommodation for either, or both, of their exo-visitors. Heading up the team was the Telathoran Vice President.
Harry looked wary. Such high-status liaison was something he could do, and knew that he could do it well, with all his high society networking skills. He was, indeed, the obvious choice to undertake such a role. But even so, he couldn’t help worrying that Alex was setting him up in some way.
‘It is important,’ Alex pointed out. ‘And your social skills are of course vastly superior to mine.’
Harry shot him a suspicious look, but Alex really did mean that and his sincerity was evident. Dan, however, chuckled.
‘Skipper,’ he said, quite kindly, ‘there are bricks out there with better social skills than you.’
Alex gave his quick, spluttering laugh but it was evident that Harry Alington was not at all amused.
‘Ah hem,’ he said, with a glare at the younger skipper, and Dan grinned back at him. He had spent the first three weeks of the voyage attempting to win Skipper Alington round with conciliating deference, asking his advice and so on. Since it had become apparent that this was only encouraging Harry Alington to patronise him, he’d adopted a rather more robust attitude.
‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ said Alex, calling both of them to order. ‘Anyway, we’ll have plenty of time to discuss the details of the courtesy visit before we arrive. For now, I feel, we need to concentrate on our objectives here at Kavenko. Which, for now, means reassuring the Telethorans that they have our full cooperation in bringing the quarian ambassador to them for a visit, but that that is, of course, ultimately her decision.’ As Harry looked relieved to have been given such clear directions, Alex looked at Dan, ‘While placating Excorps and building links with the homeworld squadron.’
Dan nodded, needing no explanation. Excorps would have every right to be angry about this – that situation was already sensitive as the Fleet had refused to give them the Naos navigation system and the Senate had not yet ruled on the Excorps appeal. Furthermore, they had sent their ship out from their base at Telathor to meet them here in the expectation that they would be going out on exploration ops immediately, only to be told now that they were going back to Telathor. It would take more than a memo and an apology to repair that damage. At the very least, Dan would have to take their skipper over to the station and buy him a beer. Forging links with the homeworld squadron via the patrol ship in port was also important, and sensitive. They knew now that the patrol ship had been sent out as honour-escort to the presidential transport, with no other orders than to escort them out here and back. That was indicative of the relationship between the Telethoran homeworld squadron and the Fourth – a total blank, coming as close to ignoring them as Fleet etiquette allowed.
There might be many reasons for that, ranging from operational discretion to seething resentment at the Fourth blitzing in on their territory, even resentment perhaps at the sudden replacement of their port admiral by a man known to be a friend of Alex’s. If Dan could establish a friendly working relationship with the other patrol ship skipper, that might at least give them a starting point.
‘And I,’ said Alex, ‘will deal with the Intel, and with Customs when they get back.’
The LIA, at least, were easy to deal with at this stage. There was no direct contact from the Comrade Foretold, but a message did come in for Alex with the usual anonymous sender and concealed point of origin. It contained up to date intelligence reports on events aboard the station and at Telathor, together with a note which read Do not attempt to contact us unless vital.
The Calliope was just as discreet, though rather more friendly. A signal was sent via the station so it did not obviously come from them, encoded for Alex’s eyes only. It was from Yula Cavell, telling him that she would see him at the reception and that they were to do the ‘old friend reunion’ thing. Please invite me back to the ship for a coffee, she requested. We have things we need to talk about.
That, he recognised, meant that they were so sensitive she did not want to put them in a report. That almost certainly meant that they were political – a briefing, perhaps, from Dix Harangay himself that he had not been willing to commit to a memo. At any rate, it would be great to see Yula again – it had been six years since they’d met, and in the nature of both their work, correspondence had been infrequent and limited in content.
He could give that only a fleeting thought, though, as he was battling with the deluge of documents awaiting him, a hundred and seventy eight of which carried the highest possible importance and urgency rating.
He had just managed to sign off on the last of them, along with all the operational matters that came at him in the interim, before he had to change into dress uniform and head over to the station.
The Freedom of the Station ceremony was every bit as excruciating as Alex had known it would be, with the added torments of having Harry Alington and Dan Tarrance there too. All three skippers had come to the station with representatives of their crews, all in dress rig as the occasion required.
The media was not permitted to be present directly, as they were kept to the sidelines like journalists at a sporting event. They could, however, use hover-cameras around the parade, and focussed spotlights which were used mostly to tell the people on camera what they were currently broadcasting. This, it was hoped, might provoke a reaction.
In this case, it did not take the media long to focus intense beams of light on the right hands of all three skippers. All three were wearing their Top Cadet academy rings, engraved with their name and the year of their graduation. Even Alex hadn’t argued or pretended to have ‘lost’ his, this time. First Lord Dix Harangay had recently sent out a memo to all serving Top Cadet officers reminding them that it was a requirement to wear the graduation ring as an honour with dress uniform, and insisting that they do so, too, as he did not want it to appear to be anything to be ashamed of.
Harry Alington’s debacle at Karadon was the reason for that, as he was very well aware. He became noticeably pink and robot-stiff as the spotlights focussed in on the rings, knowing very well that the journalists would make much of the fact that all three skippers had been Top Cadet of their respective years. Despite all explanations and even reassurance from the Chartsey media that there was nothing untoward in that, rural channels were still running with the story that the Fleet had a secret Fraternit
y running it from within.
Alex did not feel in the slightest bit brotherly towards either of the others as they endured the slow torment of the parade and speeches. Harry was at his most pompous, probably because he was embarrassed, but also because he genuinely considered such events to be a matter of high pride. Seeing his chest swell with self-importance during the speeches, Alex felt a lurking temptation to puncture him with a very sharp pin.
On his other side, Dan Tarrance was fighting off a fit of the giggles. Alex was as aware of his hilarity as if the young skipper had been blurting out whoops, and dared not even glance in his direction in case he set him off.
He hardly dared look at the parading crew, either. Such events were, by Fourth’s policy, attended by volunteers. On the Heron, Buzz had had to apply some mild arm-twisting to get enough people of the various ranks to volunteer for this. They were all attempting to conceal their boredom, some more successfully than others, but a probing camera had already caught one of the ratings idly scratching his leg.
The Whisker’s deputation was even worse. Patrol ships were known for their free and easy manners, and the Whisker, under Dan’s cheerful leadership, was even more casual than most. He had only brought four members of his crew but they were making up for their lack of numbers by constant activity – fidgeting, looking around, exchanging grins, frankly amused by the whole thing.
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