New Title 2

by S J MacDonald

  Alex had approved that transfer on the advice of Martine Fishe, the officer who’d taken on mentoring Jimmo. Nobody, Alex knew, could have taken better care of him, with Martine’s combination of professional expertise and powerful maternal instincts. Jimmo, however, had taken this as license to flare off at her any time he liked, rushing to her with a histrionic fit the moment anything happened that he didn’t like. This would have been fine, even beneficial, if he had then been willing to talk things through and accept her guidance. After a while, though, she had realised that she was no more than an audience for his emotive performances and that he had no desire at all to mature and outgrow them. They were, as she observed, functional for him in that they gave him the drama and attention he craved.

  So, Alex had agreed that they would try a different approach and Jimmo had been transferred to the Minnow with a new rehab plan. This time his mentor would be supportive but impersonal, and all officers and crew would be asked to ignore his emotional outbursts, even to the point of ignoring him while he was acting out that way. That had, of course, been agreed with Jimmo himself – Alex never even attempted to ‘fix’ people, since he was firmly of the opinion that rehab meant giving people the opportunity and support they needed to change things about themselves they recognised weren’t doing them any good. Jimmo had set off for the Minnow with fervent declarations of a fresh start and tearful assurance that he would make it work.

  He had not, though, managed four days on the corvette before throwing a hissy fit on the mess deck, apparently over the galley running out of the dessert he’d wanted. Things had not been going well since then, as Alex was aware. Now, he thought about the crewman and actually winced as he imagined how Jimmo Towitz was likely to react to the arrival of the quarian ambassador.

  ‘We had to call a medic,’ Harry informed him. ‘Screaming hysteria, hyperventilating, actually made himself sick. Not in fear, you understand, but excitement.’

  Alex nodded. He had already had to deal with a similar incident with Jimmo on the Heron when he’d announced their mission to the crew.

  ‘I’m concerned,’ said Harry, ‘that he’ll go off like that again when he sees her, and that that would be unpleasant, even perhaps uncomfortable for her.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Alex agreed, but having thought about it, gave Jimmo’s current CO a reassuring smile. ‘But don’t worry about it, Harry. We’ll warn her, of course, and give her the option of having him kept away from her, but I’d be very surprised if she agreed to that. She is here to learn about us, after all, and I believe it would be valuable experience for her, too, dealing with the hysterical response in a controlled situation. Shion, after all, had to learn how to cope when people passed out with shock at being introduced to her.’

  ‘All right,’ Harry looked relieved, and considerably struck, too. He had noticed before that Alex evaluated the situation between the two of them only in terms of how helpful it would be to Silvie to learn how humans could overcome personal dislike to work together professionally. Now he understood that this was Alex’s primary evaluation of any situation Silvie might encounter – one, whether it was safe for her, and two, whether it was going to be helpful to her in her quest to learn about humanity. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And then…’ he hesitated. ‘Totally off the record, here?’ he requested, by which Alex understood that he meant as totally off the record as it was possible to be when every area of the ship was subject to blind recording.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  There was a short silence and then Harry, looking sideways at him, stated, ‘PO Denman.’

  Alex looked mildly surprised. Petty Officer ‘Den’ Denman had come to the Fourth with Harry, having been one of his crew aboard the Minnow before it was transferred back into Fourth’s service. Only about twenty of his crew had remained with him, as the point of that transfer had been to expand the Fourth’s capacity to offer high-flyer secondments. Alex had had no issue with any of them and had, in any case, respected Harry’s right to bring his own choice of at least one officer and core of crew. PO Denman was exactly the kind of petty officer Alex would have expected Harry to bring with him, too – a very conventional Fleet type, efficient and impersonal. He had made so little impact on Alex’s awareness that it took him a few moments even to recall the man to mind.

  ‘Really?’ he queried, startled that so inconspicuous a man could be such a major concern. And then as he realised that it was just that kind of man who was likely to have privacy issues over whatever secrets he wanted to keep, he added, ‘Ah.’ Then, with an alert look, ‘One of the people who want to be excused contact with Silvie?’

  ‘Very much so,’ Harry said. ‘I’d say he’s the ringleader, or at least, acting as spokesman for the others who have their concerns. And I do, I assure you, fully accept your decision as to that and agree with you entirely, as a matter of principle, we can’t have people picking and choosing which bits of missions they want to engage in and we can’t have people on the team we can’t rely on to give every mission their best, either.’

  ‘But…’ Alex prompted.

  ‘But…’ Harry hesitated again, and shook his head. ‘There’s something,’ he admitted. ‘Strictly between ourselves, I can’t rid myself of the feeling that there’s more going on with that than fear of embarrassment. You know, of course, that I’ve known Mr Denman for years and that I asked for him when I took up my command. I’ve always found him very calm and efficient and his record is impeccable. It’s true there was an incident back when I was a Lt on the Zeus and he was a PO there. A female member of the crew alleged that he made her uncomfortable. Actually, she said that he gave her the creeps. She repeated this around the ship and there was a first-phase enquiry which established that there had been no wrongdoing, but it did affect his reputation, as a totally unfounded rumour went around the ship that he’d once been arrested for assaulting a woman. Which isn’t true – there was a situation some years ago in which a woman was assaulted and Mr Denman was questioned by the police, but that was only because he’d been a customer at the bar where the woman had also been present that evening, a purely routine questioning and he had nothing to do with the crime – the police themselves said that, reporting to the Fleet that he was not under suspicion, so that, of course, doesn’t appear as an adverse entry in his record. I must admit that I felt sorry for him, seeing the kind of malicious rumour he was having to deal with, so I went out of my way to show my own support and later, when I was putting my crew together, I asked for him. There’s been no problem here, he’s respected and efficient and a man I’ve felt that I can rely on.’ He gave Alex a troubled look. ‘Until today. He was in a cold sweat when he came to see me – I’ve hardly ever seen anyone in that state before and certainly not him. And his eyes…’ he shook his head, the power of description evidently beyond him. ‘I could see there’s more to this than just fear of embarrassment or even exposure of some misdemeanour. I did point out to him that anything the ambassador might reveal is covered by the amnesty, but he – well, I’d have to say he shuddered, that’s the only way I can put it.’ He gave a little shiver himself, as if remembering and echoing the movement which had struck him so forcibly. ‘And – well, probably I’m just letting my imagination run away with me, but I have to admit that the terrible thought occurred that perhaps I had been wrong about him all these years and maybe the crew on the Zeus were actually right. Maybe that woman sensed something in him, something wrong. And – as disloyal as it is to a member of my own crew – I find myself wondering whether he might, even, have been involved in that assault, or some other violence he’s terrified of being exposed. Obviously, professionally, all I can do is tell him what you’ve said and give him the option to stay out of her way and transfer off the ship as soon as we reach Telathor. But I’m concerned, you know. If there is something, if he might even present a danger to others, it would be grossly irresponsible of us to just discharge him into a groundside posting. But at the same time…’

/>   Alex nodded soberly.

  ‘At the same time, we have no evidence, and even if Silvie said on record that he’s committed a crime and is still a danger to others, there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.’ He said. ‘Legally, of course, we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on, as esper evidence of that kind is not accepted by League courts. And ethically, we have no right to act on information obtained by violation of cognitive privacy. Professionally, too, we’re bound by the terms of the amnesty and in no position even to launch an investigation on the basis of suspicions arising from empathic observation.’

  Harry gave him a questioning look.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised,’ he observed.

  ‘No,’ Alex confirmed. ‘Oh – about PO Denman, of course, I had no idea about that. But it was obvious from the start that we would, sooner or later, run into a situation where Silvie revealed the commission of a serious crime and/or a danger to the community, either aboard ship or in civilian life. That has, in fact, already happened on Chartsey, where her comments to a fellow passenger on a bus raised immediate and serious concerns about the danger he might pose to children. The police there were able to start an investigation based on ‘information received anonymously’, but they were unable to get a warrant to search his residence and comms, as the judge said that there was insufficient evidence to justify that, in a generic, anonymous allegation of that sort. And that, in fact, established the legal precedent where disclosures by Silvie are concerned.’ He gave Harry a reassuring look as he saw the corvette skipper’s dismay. ‘But it also,’ he told him, ‘established precedent for what can be done. Just because we or the police can’t take any action doesn’t mean that nobody can. In that case, the Diplomatic Corps informed the LIA that they had reason to suspect – unspecified – that the person concerned might pose a danger to the community, and the LIA, with far wider ranging powers than those of the police, were able to take on the investigation.

  ‘We can do the same thing here – we must, of course, give Mr Denman the option to stay out of Silvie’s way and leave the ship at Telathor, and we can in no way, obviously, force or engineer a situation in which he meets her as a means to confirm or refute your suspicions. But my guess is that he’s intelligent enough to realise that dodging her and jumping ship at Telathor would be the kiss of death both to his career and to his reputation.’

  Harry did not need that to be explained. To leave the ship mid-way through a mission would indeed be very damaging to PO Denman’s career. To do so on the basis that he had felt himself unable to take full part in the mission the Fourth was undertaking would pretty much guarantee that he would never be offered a shipboard placement again, and without that there would be little likelihood of further promotion. As to his reputation, the question would obviously be asked, if he so dreaded the quarian exposing his secrets that he was prepared to throw away his career to avoid it, just what was wrong with him? Inevitably, the rumours which had been doing the rounds on the Zeus would be resurrected. With those suspicions hanging over him, he would find it hard to continue in the Fleet on any basis.

  ‘So – you think he’ll risk it?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Well, you know him better than I do,’ said Alex. ‘But I believe he will realise that it comes down to a decision between his career and reputation versus whatever secret it is he’s so desperate to keep. And if he does choose to ditch his career over it I would consider that significant enough in itself to have a quiet word in the appropriate ears. But we needn’t cross our bridges before we come to them – don’t try to push this, Harry. Just tell him what the decision is and let the situation develop. Involve me as and when you feel you need to, all right?’

  ‘All right,’ Harry said, looking greatly relieved to have that responsibility lifted off his shoulders.

  Alex, in fact, met with the LIA representative later that afternoon, though they did not discuss PO Denman or any other specific issue. The Heron was hosting an event for the skippers of the ships which had tagged on with them – part convoy briefing and part hospitality event. It was remarkable for the fact that it over-rode a definitive statement by Alex, made many times over recent years, that no journalist would ever board the Heron other than over his dead body.

  That day, a journalist did board the Heron, and he was not obliged to step over Alex’s body in the airlock to do so, either.

  Of course, it was conditional. The skipper of the Telathoran media ship was himself a journalist, and had been included in the event on the strict condition that he attended in skipper’s role only, no cameras, no notes, no questions and no broadcast use to be made of anything he saw or heard. These conditions having been cheerfully agreed to and signed in a legally binding confidentiality agreement, the journalist duly came aboard. As an epoch-making moment, it was rather an anti-climax, as he turned out to be a very friendly man and remarkably well informed about the Fourth. He was, in fact, a spacer first and a journalist second, entirely at home with them swapping the goss and having a laugh.

  The skipper of the Comrade Foretold, on the other hand, kept himself rather gloomily aloof, taking notes during the convoy briefing and declining the offer of a tour of the interdeck.

  As had been pre-arranged, he remained aboard the frigate when the other skippers departed. He met with Alex in the little office by the airlock on deck seven, as he’d requested, stating that he did not wish to draw attention to himself by coming up through the decks to the captain’s cabin.

  ‘Harard Perkins,’ he introduced himself, when they were alone.

  He was a middle aged man – around the same age as Buzz but not in good shape. He looked like a man who ate at his desk and rarely saw daylight.

  ‘I am told,’ he said, ‘that it will be sufficient identification if I use the expression ‘end of’.’

  Alex gave a small, acknowledging smile, regarding the other man with frank interest. He’d worked with the League Intelligence Agency before, but to his knowledge had only met one of their agents face to face, at Karadon. She had used the unusual expression ‘end of’ in conversation, after it had also been used in anonymous LIA communications.

  ‘Understood,’ Alex affirmed. There had been no mention of the LIA in any communications from the Comrade Foretold, only a request that the captain meet with their skipper on ‘private matters’. The LIA did not flash ID cards. It was unlikely even that there was such a thing. The LIA would not even admit that their organisation even existed, let alone identify any of their agents. ‘And thank you, Mr Perkins. I appreciate that it is rather outside your usual practice to work directly with other agencies.’

  ‘We are, of course, happy to provide whatever field support we can, without compromise to our own operations,’ Mr Perkins said, looking anything but happy, and handed over, with some ceremony, a security sealed tape. ‘This contains the latest relevant intelligence. I’m afraid it doesn’t offer any new information beyond that we’ve already passed to Fleet Intelligence, but we will continue to keep you informed directly. In strict confidence, of course. Fleet Intelligence is not currently aware that we have a unit on scene, and we would prefer to keep it that way.’

  Alex gazed at him, more than a little perplexed.

  ‘Are you,’ he asked, very cautiously, ‘aware of any presence Fleet Intel may have on scene, themselves?’

  Harard Perkins gave a small, tight smile.

  ‘We know about the Calliope, yes,’ he said, with a rather obvious disdain and a quiet little sigh. ‘Frankly, that is information that could be obtained in any spacer bar.’

  Alex did not feel that he was in any strong position to argue that point. Spacer goss was a far more effective intelligence network than anything any government had ever organised, with information being passed from ship to ship in a constant omnidirectional flow. Spacers knew when ships weren’t where they were supposed to be, when it took them three times longer than it should have to make a routine trip, or when they were said to have been in a particular
port but actually weren’t. It was probably true that if you went into the spacer hangout on Kavenko and mentioned the Calliope, people there would tell you that it was a Fleet Intel ship. Fleet Intel themselves accepted that level of awareness as just inevitable, given how smart spacers were and how much they talked to one another. What they tried to keep secret was exactly what their ships were doing, when that secrecy was necessary for operations. The LIA made no secret of the fact that they considered this lamentably amateur.

  ‘But we don’t want them finding out about us.’ Harard Perkins said. ‘Fleet Intel does not have a good track record of keeping things under wraps.’

  ‘We are privileged, then,’ Alex observed, with a courteous inclination of his head. ‘Thank you.’

  Harard Perkins gave him a morose look in return.

  ‘Not my decision,’ he said, and added fatalistically, ‘orders.’ And as if it wasn’t apparent enough from that that he had no confidence in the Fourth whatsoever, he went on with an imploring note, ‘Just, please, try not to let our identity become common gossip, all right?’

  Alex said that he would, betraying no hint of amusement. It was, of course, utterly absurd that the LIA really believed that nobody in the squadron knew who they were. The most sensible thing to do, really, would be to tell them the truth, that everyone already knew that they were LIA. Even the media had probably worked that one out. Alex, however, knew very well that if he told the LIA ship that their cover was blown they would react with panicked indignation and depart at high speed. It was, as Yula had observed, better to let them continue happily in their own little world.

  And then, that evening, there was the dinner. This was to be a formal dress event, held in the wardroom with Buzz as the host.

  On this occasion, evidently having decided that it was a dress-up do, Silvie appeared in the wardroom wearing an off-the-shoulder princess gown with a blue velvet bodice and flowing skirts, together with a bandolier and sword belt and a movie-pirate hat.