‘No,’ said Mako, before the commodore could go any further, ‘Alex, you can not fit out a couple of cargo crates as a self-contained brig to be carried in a freighter’s hold.’ He had, evidently, already seen the plans. ‘You can’t,’ he said, definitively. ‘However well-equipped they are they would still be cargo crates being carried in a hold and any court in the League would rule that to be demeaning, psychologically damaging, forbidden under prisoner transport regulations and absolutely unacceptable. Sorry,’ he added, knowing that this had been the Fourth’s last hope of getting rid of Mister before they could go to X-Base Sentinel themselves. ‘He isn’t exactly filling my life with sunshine, either,’ Mako observed, drily.
‘No, I’m sure,’ said Alex. He only had to deal with the daily reports. Mako had to supervise the LIA man five times every day. And Mister, as his incarceration at Lundane continued, was becoming more and more obstreperous. He too had expected to be released once they got here and now that it had finally sunk in on him that the LIA was not going to come to his rescue, that he really had been abandoned, he was in a state of such confused rage that he could barely contain it. Flashes of anger at his guards were becoming routine, as were attempts to punch Mako. ‘I am sorry,’ Alex said. Mako’s enthusiasm for having a high-security prisoner to look after had been rather jaded by weeks of Mister’s aggression, to the point where even he was weary of it.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mako said and gave him a friendly grin as he got up to leave. ‘I’d rather be dealing with him,’ he commented, ‘than the ambassadors.’
He had a point. The only reason Alex was getting any sleep was that Simon had imposed a comms block between midnight and eight in the morning.
Alex’s relationship with the many ambassadors at Lundane had gone through such a complexity of twists and turns that he was barely able to keep up with it all himself. Opinions had divided and kept dividing, with those who believed the Fourth arguing with those who did not. And even those who had decided that the Fourth was on the level did not necessarily agree with one another as to what should be done about it.
Alex had a conflict diagram on his ops board. It was rather more sophisticated than the one he’d used to illustrate the situation in the briefing. It displayed not only the current state of play in relationships between the worlds represented here by their embassies and between all of them and the Fourth, but also the subtleties of their objectives. These changed on a daily basis, often even in a matter of hours, as action taken by any major player ricocheted around the others, triggering reactions. Even rumours of actions being taken by any of the major players was enough to kick things off.
That morning, Alex was dealing with the fallout from a rumour which had gained credence overnight, to the effect that he had had a secret meeting with the Prisosan ambassador.
This was not the case, as Alex had to keep telling all the other ambassadors who called to ask for the same agreements they believed he’d come to with the Prisosans, or to express their anger over it.
‘I have not met with any ambassadors,’ he kept saying, ‘other than His Excellency Ambassador Jilit-Defane-Taracalas. I have no diplomatic role here beyond that already disclosed, to support Her Grace Lady Ursele in establishing her embassy here.’
This cut no ice with anybody.
‘Come off it!’ said the Prisosan ambassador, who’d decided recently that there were great advantages to be had in becoming friends with Alex and so adopted a forthright matiness with him which Alex had done nothing to encourage. ‘You’re involved,’ Ambassador Berrtra pointed out. ‘You’re providing water, system comms, even promising to terraform the planet. You and Roll’em are like that,’ she twined her fingers together, ‘and you’ve shifted the balance of power here completely. You can’t do all that and then claim you don’t have any active diplomatic role here,’ a ferocious grin, ‘You’re the most active diplomat this planet has seen for centuries! So come off it, Alex. Talk to me.’ Her tone was strong but persuasive. ‘We have a good relationship,’ she declared, though on what basis she claimed that Alex was at a loss to work out, ‘the best relationship anyone from Prisos has ever had with a representative from the League. You’re a straight guy, we get that, we have it from the Samartians and we see it for ourselves – and it’s self-evident, too, from your mission to Quarus. Those quarians can see straight into a person, right? To the absolute core of who you are. And they trust you, they love you, talk about you as a shining spirit, completely up front, honest, honourable. And the Pirrellothians asked for you – for you, specifically – because of everything they’ve heard about you. You’re straight and that’s just not something we see here at Embassy Avenue, I can tell you. So you are, absolutely, a guy we can do business with. And you’re not going to tell me, are you, that you’re going to turn that opportunity down?’
It was a good argument and more than a little tempting, but Alex had to decline.
‘I am not the League Ambassador to Lundane,’ he said. ‘And I cannot usurp any of His Excellency’s role.’
And he meant that. As frustrating as it was to see that he was indeed in a very much stronger position than JDT to build relationships here, he was not the League Ambassador to Lundane and to act in such matters without the legitimate Ambassador’s consent would have been outrageous. Given cooperation between them it would certainly have been possible for him to act as an assistant or supplementary ambassador, but as things were, it was impossible. And in this, too, Alex had no doubt at all of the position he would be in, reporting back to the Senate. That he had taken it upon himself to agree to bring Lady Ursele here, yes, of course, obviously, that would be approved and with great pride, too, that the Fourth had been asked to undertake such a mission. Questions would be asked about his decision to arrive without weapons and there would undoubtedly be questions asked, too, about the failure of the League’s own embassy here to support him in such a tremendous game-changing development. But that would in no way justify him then having to report that he had usurped the role of the appointed ambassador to undertake intersystem diplomacy here on his own account. Some might feel that he should have taken the opportunity regardless of etiquette, but most would recognise how insulting that would be to the League’s own officially appointed representative and thereby, to the League’s own government. It would be going rogue and Alex just could not do it.
So, he just had to keep saying the same thing – forty six times just that morning, that being the number of ambassadors who took advantage of their VIP status to call him personally. Some were very angry indeed, like the Araki ambassador who said bitterly that he might have known the Fourth would side with the Prisosans and went on, at length, to detail all the advantages of friendship with the Araki which Alex had thrown away by such underhanded behaviour. And then of course there were the Teralians, who called with their usual daily threat.
‘We have informed the Masters of your conduct,’ their ambassador said. ‘And there will be punishment.’
Alex looked at the image of the ambassador on his screen and felt, not for the first time, a powerful loathing. The highest ranking Sons of Marfik affected a completely hairless look coupled with black military uniform adorned with all the usual bombastic emblems, lightning, supernovas, some kind of predator no doubt considered very scary on Terale. The only sinister thing about them, though, was the truly horrible subjection these tyrants had imposed over their own world in the name of their Marfikian Masters. No Marfikian had ever been as creatively brutal as humans could be in their name. And Alex wished, oh, how he wished, that the day would come when the people of Terale could be liberated from these monsters too. But he could do nothing here beyond sending the same routine message back, ‘We do not acknowledge your right to speak on behalf of the Marfikians.’
This, Alex had been told, was what everyone said to them, all the other embassies, when they were attempting to throw their non-existent weight around. It would have been ludicrous, were it not for the f
act that billions of people on their homeworld lived in fear of these bullies.
He wasn’t given any time to reflect on that, though, as even as he was turning away from that call, another two were coming in.
Days passed and the calls began to focus on the big developing question… who was Lady Ursele going to ask to see next?
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know.’ Alex said, having essentially the same conversation more than fifty times.
‘But it’s been more than two weeks since she asked to see anyone!’
‘Indeed.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Perfectly well, yes.’
‘But she’s not seeing anyone?’
‘Her grace,’ Alex said, ‘is reflecting.’
There was generally a puzzled silence at this point.
‘Reflecting?’
‘Reflecting on the situation,’ Alex said and that was all he could say. Lady Ursele was indeed considering the situation, in detail, taking her time. She understood very well indeed that the decision she made as to which ambassador to invite next would be critical.
Then, out of the blue, she sent a singer to bring Alex to her.
‘It would please me greatly,’ she told him, once the preliminaries had been accomplished, ‘if you would consent to wear a sash as an honorary member of my household.’
Alex was startled, but did not hesitate.
‘It would be my honour, your grace,’ he said. ‘In what capacity may I assist you?’
‘As pilot.’ Lady Ursele smiled at him. ‘If you would be so kind as to pilot the second shuttle at my request.’
Alex thought about this and a smile of understanding came onto his face.
‘I see,’ he said and Lady Ursele gazed at him with benevolent approval.
‘I thought you would,’ she said and then, with a very slight note of apology, ‘There is a ceremony…’
Alex nearly laughed. Everything about Lady Ursele’s life was so ritualised, it went without saying that of course there would be a ceremony. But her apologetic note made it clear that she understood Alex would not enjoy it.
It did take more than an hour, culminating in a pale sash being draped over Alex’s right shoulder, investing him with the right to pilot the Pirrellothian Embassy shuttles – the two shuttles Alex himself had given them.
She did not need to explain to him why she was asking him, a flag officer and ambassador in his own right, to carry out such a menial task. There were, in fact, already five pilots invested as honorary members of the Pirrellothian embassy and at the chamlorn’s disposal any time she wished to use the shuttles. They had been selected by Shion not only for their piloting ability but for their quiet composure. So it was not lack of available pilots which had caused to make that request. This was a matter of status. Lady Ursele wanted to send both shuttles on an errand in which the relative status of both pilots and the singers she sent to speak for her would be of vital importance.
And Lady Ursele, by her standards, was moving quickly. After a quarter of an hour or so sitting quietly after the ceremony was concluded, the chamlorn spoke again.
‘Would it be convenient for you to pilot the shuttle immediately, Captain?’
‘Certainly,’ said Alex. ‘Of course, your grace.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled and began, then, to issue careful and very specific instructions.
And Alex, not having the benefit of an eidetic memory, pulled up a screen from his wristcom and took notes.
Twenty Five
It was just an hour later that the two shuttles broke away from the ship and began to move down to the planet’s surface. They were precisely alongside one another the entire way, flight paths synchronised so that at no time was one even a metre ahead of the other. And when they landed, their touchdown was simultaneous to within a hundredth of a second.
Alex and Shion, who were piloting for the occasion, remained aboard their shuttles, watching and waiting as the singers they’d brought down walked away in their slow processional walk.
They had landed, with special permission from Flight Control, directly on the roadway of Embassy Avenue midway between the Prisosan and Araki Embassies, numbers three and four respectively. This was causing quite a stir in itself as people flocked at embassy windows to look at the shuttles in their Pirrellothian livery, curious as to what was going on.
It seemed like a long wait – eighteen minutes, in fact – before both singers emerged from their destinations, hand in hand with the Prisosan and Araki ambassadors.
The Prisosan, Ambassador Berrtra and the Araki, Ambassador Senoza, went through exactly the same sequence of reactions as they were led out of their embassies.
Both, to begin with, were looking so smug they were practically gloating. They were looking around proudly as they came out, wanting everyone to see that Lady Ursele had asked for them, first!
Then they saw that there were two shuttles waiting.
Then they saw the other singer, also leading an ambassador by the hand.
All smugness evaporated under the shock. Both held back, breaking step, staring at one another, realising what was going on here.
Lady Ursele had sent for them both. An enmity which had lasted for centuries, in which the two ambassadors made a point of never even being in the same building together, was being challenged. Right here, right now, today. They were being taken to see Lady Ursele and they were being taken together.
The only thing which prevented both of them pulling their hands free and striding back inside their Embassies in high dudgeon was the recognition that if they did that, the other ambassador would get to go and see Lady Ursele by themselves. They would miss out, not just today but in grabbing their share of a relationship which was obviously going to be massively important.
They couldn’t do it. They just couldn’t refuse. As Lady Ursele had understood very well, ambushing them like this gave them no time to entrench behind the usual demands, protests and political game-play. The situation was reduced to one of absolute simplicity. They could come and see her or they could refuse. And they must make that decision right here, right now, with no opportunity for argument.
Both of them, therefore, after hostile stares across the street, tightened their grip on their escorts with an air of dogged determination, set their jaws and strode on, as slow and self-conscious as hostile cats.
‘Good morning, Ambassador.’ It was the Prisosan who was led to Alex’s shuttle, peering through the hatch with deep suspicion.
‘Oh.’ Ambassador Berrtra boarded the shuttle, looking at Alex and taking due note of the filmy sash draped on his right shoulder. Alex didn’t miss the look of gratification which crossed the Prisosan’s face, either. She had the Fourth’s commanding officer acting as her pilot – something which would score her major bragging rights. It was also the first time she’d met Alex in person. ‘Commodore!’ she exclaimed and moved as if to give him the triple air-kiss which was formal greeting on Prisos.
Alex, however, remained in his seat, holding up a hand politely but decisively.
‘If you will forgive me,’ he murmured, ‘I am acting as a member of Her Grace’s household.’
‘Ah – yes, I see,’ said Berrtra, who clearly did not see but was unwilling to lose face by admitting the fact. She sat down, anyway, guided by her escort and reassured by her calm smile. ‘So,’ she asked, after a moment to compose himself, ‘Who’s piloting the other shuttle?’
‘Shionolethe,’ Alex said and knew by the calculating look that the Prisosan gave that she was evaluating which of the ambassadors had the higher prestige pilot. Berrtra might have the Fourth’s CO, but Ambassador Senoza had Pirrellothian royalty piloting him. The honours there were so equal that both could feel they’d come out ahead.
The flight back to the ship was perfectly coordinated too, neither shuttle taking precedence over the other, both coming into dock so that they touched clamps to the hull at precisely the same moment.
Alex rema
ined aboard the shuttle as the singer led Ambassador Berrtra aboard the ship. And having shut down its systems, he remained there. The agreed protocol was that while guests were visiting Lady Ursele the shuttles would be kept ready for their departure at any time, so Alex was obliged to stay aboard and wait – just wait. He didn’t even activate his comms or deal with paperwork. While that sash was on his shoulder he was working for Lady Ursele. Her staff didn’t make calls or do deskwork while they were in attendance on her.
It was actually strangely peaceful just sitting there, not feeling the pressure to be doing anything else. That was all the more luxurious because he knew very well what kind of diplomatic storm would be kicking off down on Lundane, with both Prisosan and Araki ambassadors brought up to the ship.
He wished he could be a fly on the wall at that meeting, though. He felt he had a fair idea of how it would be going; the prickly determination on the part of the ambassadors not even to acknowledge one another’s existence and their awe at finding themselves in the presence of a species which had been ancient before their own kind was even thought of. As Alex had discovered for himself, the solemn, stately ritual of the Hall of Veils compelled a slow, quiet, considered conduct. So however fast their thoughts might be racing, Alex was sure, their behaviour would be dignified.
He was waiting on the shuttle for nearly two hours before the ambassadors returned. It was Ambassador Senoza brought to his shuttle for the return trip, an exchange which further ensured that neither side could claim superior treatment. The Araki seemed withdrawn, in an almost stunned, dream-like condition, barely even acknowledging the presence of the Fourth’s CO.
Alex piloted him back to Embassy Avenue, Shion and he maintaining precise coordination to return the ambassadors to exactly where they’d taken off.
‘Thank you,’ Ambassador Senoza said, as Alex rose and opened the airlock hatch for him. Later, he would claim that he and Alex had enjoyed a private conversation during the descent, but in fact those were the only words he spoke during the trip.
Venturi Page 44