by S MacDonald
‘Well, we’ll let Simon review whether that was actually justified,’ he said, and knew he was right when Rangi blenched. ‘But for now…’ he looked pointedly at the time. ‘You need to wind down and go to bed.’ He forestalled the immediate protest with a firm note. ‘You can pick up overnight data in the morning, and give your report at briefing.’ He added, with a hint of mischief, the sententious warning with which Rangi himself nagged people who were staying up late, ‘Nothing will be achieved by your staying up but impaired performance tomorrow.’
‘Ah.’ Rangi knew he couldn’t win this argument. ‘Okay, skipper – I’m going.’ He got up as he spoke, but made no move to actually depart. ‘It is amazing though, isn’t it?’ He was looking at the report he’d spread across the table, complete with the imaged viruses and data it would take another medic to understand.
‘It is,’ Alex said, and refrained from saying that it could have waited till the morning. Truth be told, if Martine had refused to wake him for this, he’d have had a quiet word with her next day so she’d understand that even if the discovery itself wasn’t so urgent that it justified getting him out of bed, the fact that one of his officers was in such a state and needing to see him made that something he would want to be told. He didn’t need to say that, though, Martine Fishe had been on his team since their first days on the Minnow and she did not need to be told that taking care of his people would always be his top priority. ‘You will probably,’ Alex told him, ‘win awards.’ He grinned as a look of delight came onto the medic’s face, hurriedly concealed under a look of conscious modesty. Rangi didn’t demur, though – he knew even better than Alex did what a ground-breaking achievement it was to identify a hitherto unknown and even unsuspected virus in ground-level atmosphere, from space. ‘Go on,’ Alex said. ‘Go to bed. And don’t go back to work till you’ve had your sleep out.’
‘Okay, skipper – G’night. Thanks!’ Rangi said, and went off to enjoy a dream-filled night in which fantastic award ceremonies got somehow mixed up with an earnest discussion with a human-sized virus.
Alex too went back to bed, with an amused little snort to himself as he settled back down. And whatever he dreamed about, he’d forgotten in the morning.
Fourteen
Rangi was unlucky. The long range shuttle which came back to them late the following afternoon brought more people out to the flagship than it had earlier taken away.
There were, as expected, ten returning shoreleavers and four official observers replacing those who’d departed. One of these was the new lottery-winning civilian, a transport controller who kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish and occasionally uttering strangled cries of delight. Another was the latest armed services representative – to their chagrin, the army, SDF and intelligence agencies had to compete to get their candidates into the two spots allocated between them. This time round it was a former army officer now working for TIS, Telathor Intelligence Services. He strode aboard already wearing the Fourth’s rig provided by the Whisker on the outward journey, gave Buzz an elbow-quivering army salute and called him sir, then promptly fainted when Silvie turned up to check out the new arrivals.
Silvie herself caught him with practised skill as she saw his eyes roll back in his head and his knees give way under him. He didn’t entirely lose consciousness but everything went grey and sounds became remote. As he recovered with strong arms supporting him he thought he heard a woman’s voice say cheerfully, ‘Twenty three – seventeen,’ as if announcing the scoring of a point in a sports match. At the time he thought he must be hallucinating, it seemed such a random remark. Later, he discovered that it was Silvie keeping score of how many people had passed out on meeting her, versus how many had fainted on introduction to Shion. Even more embarrassing, he found that he hadn’t imagined the butterfly kiss she’d dropped on his forehead, with an angelic ‘Bless you, darling.’
It was Simon who stepped forward and took him in hand, taking him off to sickbay to recover and be comforted. They hadn’t been expecting Simon, as he’d been basing himself aboard the Stepeasy in recent months, but nobody questioned it when he just turned up with a kitbag. Simon had a unique privilege in the Fourth, as a civilian consultant free to come and go as he pleased. There would certainly always be a berth for him on any ship Alex was commanding, and he came aboard not as a passenger, but as of right.
The other two observers having been duly welcomed and ushered off to the interdeck in Mako’s care, the remaining two passengers came off the shuttle. One was half-expected, or at least, hoped for. Sub-lt Rossy Ross, shaking hands vigorously with Buzz and puffed up with joy.
‘Flag Adjutant Ross reporting for duty, sir!’ he presented himself as if for inspection and Buzz beamed at him approvingly. He had expected that Rossy would leap at the opportunity being offered, but hadn’t been sure when they might get him. It was hardly fair to grab him from the Minnow when they only had two Subs. Milli Walensa would have been entirely within her rights to make them wait till a replacement could be brought out, or to require them to send another of their Subs in exchange.
Milli, though, had sent him at once, albeit with a note which complained about Alex pirating her best people and demanding not only her choice of replacement officer from those on hand at Oreol but that an extra CPO be added to her ship’s complement, too. When he got this, Alex would chuckle and sign the first request as approved and the second refused – it was a joke between them, as the Minnow was already so full that they could hardly cope with the four passengers they had to carry back and forth. Milli had once said that she’d like an extra CPO, but that the only place left on the ship they could sleep would be to make them up a bed under the command deck datatable.
‘Excellent,’ Buzz welcomed him wholeheartedly and gestured forward the Sub who’d been chosen as the newcomer’s official friend, as per Fleet tradition. The two young men shook hands, grinning – they were already friends – and Rossy Ross was whisked away to the command deck for the ceremony of signing aboard.
That left Buzz to deal with the final arrival.
Tanlen Ganhauser should have come aboard first, and have been met by the skipper complete with attendant officers and guard of honour. This, after all, was the courtesy due from the Fleet to His Excellency, League Ambassador Ganhauser. The message which had announced his arrival, though, had also stressed that the ambassador was waiving his VIP status and wished to come aboard privately. He had, indeed, ushered everyone ahead of him and came aboard last, a modest tail-end Charlie.
‘Thank you for allowing me to come aboard,’ were his first words, in response to Buzz’s welcome and handshake. Silvie had gone by then, and there was only Buzz himself left at the airlock. ‘I am sorry to dump myself on you like this,’ the ambassador said, indicating the surprisingly small kitbag which he carried slung on his shoulder. It was no bigger than a hiker’s daypack and he did not appear to have any other luggage. ‘But I’ve travelled with the mail, you see, so it wasn’t possible to send ahead. There is paperwork asking you to accommodate me, but I promise my needs are very small and I certainly don’t want to be the slightest trouble.’
Buzz gazed at him. He knew Ambassador Ganhauser by reputation. The world of high powered exodiplomacy was a very small one, after all, and Tanlen Ganhauser was a big name in that exclusive sphere. Buzz and Alex had read many of his reports in the course of studying the principles and practice of exodiplomacy and could say with perfect truth that it was a pleasure and an honour to meet him. He had come across as a very formal, drily academic man in the tone of his reports, though, and the holos of him in his biography were of a very grand gentleman in full Diplomatic Corps regalia.
He didn’t look at all grand at the moment. In fact he was not unlike Buzz himself – of a similar age, around seventy, round faced and a little portly, smiling upon the world with an air of fatherly benevolence. He was oddly dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and leggings, both in gun-metal blue with a plastic sheen, and short r
ed socks with a high-grip sole. Seeing him dressed like that, Buzz could well understand why he’d eschewed the formal welcome.
‘Our pleasure, Excellency,’ he said, and was immediately corrected.
‘Please – Tan,’ the ambassador said, with a friendly beam. ‘And may I call you Buzz? Such a pleasure,’ he gave him a look of happy satisfaction. ‘Always enjoy your articles,’ he told him.
‘Oh! Thank you … Tan.’ Buzz was a little surprised to find that while he’d been reading Tanlen Ganhauser, Tanlen Ganhauser had also been reading him. But his responsibilities as host kicked in. ‘I’m afraid,’ he admitted, ‘that it will be half an hour or so before we have quarters ready for you, but in the meantime you are very welcome to make use of my cabin if you would like to leave your kit there and freshen up before I take you to the captain.’
What he meant, of course, was change into something more appropriate, but Tan appeared oblivious to the hint.
‘No, no, that’s fine,’ he said. ‘And please, don’t go to any trouble – I’ll be perfectly happy if you have a spare bunk anywhere.’
Buzz had given orders for VIP quarters to be prepared on the interdeck as soon as he got the message telling him that Ambassador Ganhauser was aboard the shuttle. A team of riggers was already at work there, stripping out the furniture from an area of the lounge set up with quiet study booths. Within minutes, screen walls would be bolted into place to create a two-cabin suite, techs installing a shower and desk while riggers put in bunk, lockers and an inflatable sofa. At least thirty people would be involved to some extent between the cabin-plan being authorised and the final touches to elevate it to VIP standards.
‘No trouble at all,’ said Buzz, and meant that because they were perfectly used to such rapid transformations on the interdeck and considered it routine. ‘Would you like to meet the captain right away?’
‘Please,’ said Tan, so Buzz took him on to the command deck. Alex had just finished signing Rossy Ross aboard – the Sub, indeed, was heading down a ladderway at one end of the command deck while Tan was being shown through the hatchway at the other.
‘Please do be assured,’ said Tan, once he and Alex had been introduced, ‘that I am not here to supersede, monitor or in any other way be a pain in your posterior.’
Alex grinned. He had the advantage of having received the mail, by then, which explained what Tanlen Ganhauser was doing here. There was a great deal of mail relating to that from many sources, including President Tyborne and First Lord Dix Harangay. Even a skim of the most important, though, had been enlightening.
Ambassador Ganhauser was the diplomat chosen to replace him at the point when the Fourth was withdrawn from the mission. His base of operations would be the mighty Diplomatic Corps carrier currently making its way out to them, with its usual staff of hundreds in addition to the crew. It was effectively a mobile Embassy, and a very large, high powered one at that.
Ambassador Ganhauser, though, had not waited for the Embassy ship. He’d raced out here in advance of it to start getting to grips with the mission as quickly as possible. His role, officially, was to learn, studying Carrearranis and the Fourth’s diplomatic endeavours so that when the time came the transition could be made smoothly from Alex to himself. Alex had been authorised, though, to include him in diplomacy as and when he saw fit.
‘It’s an honour to have you with us,’ he said. He had no choice about this anyway – orders had been given and he had been instructed and requested from all directions to give Ambassador Ganhauser full cooperation. As it was, though, he was genuinely pleased. The note from Dix Harangay had told him ‘He’s A+ and +10 onside.’ which Alex had understood to mean that Ambassador Ganhauser was at the top of his game and that they could depend on him to be supportive.
‘Likewise to be here,’ Tan said, and glanced around the command deck with evident admiration. He might just as well have said aloud, So this is where it all happens. But he went on briskly, ‘I’d like a couple of days to nose around and come up to speed before we have any discussions, skipper, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Of course.’ Alex appreciated that while they’d offered one another first-names at introduction; his fellow ambassador was calling him skipper, making it clear that he regarded himself as subordinate in their relationship. Alex, though, was not so sensitive as to need that bolster to his authority. ‘But I won’t,’ he told him, ‘call you Tan unless you call me Alex.’ Tan gave a little chuckle and nodded, giving Alex a look which conveyed his own appreciation of being raised to equal status with the current post-holder. ‘And do,’ Alex went on, ‘take as long as you need.’ He gave him a look which held some concern. ‘You must be exhausted,’ he said, though Tan certainly didn’t look it. ‘You have just come all the way from Chartsey?’ He queried, as if hardly able to believe that Tan could have done that and be standing there so fresh and cheerful. ‘By courier?’
A startled hush descended on the command deck as all the people who’d been pretending not to listen turned their heads and stared at Tan with amazement. ‘Without stopping?’ Alex asked.
Tan smiled. ‘There was a half-hour changeover at Telathor,’ he replied. ‘Between couriers. They very kindly gave me lunch on the Anubis. Other than that, yes.’ He drew a curving line in the air. ‘Chartsey-Telathor.’ Then another, more complex wiggle of his finger. ‘Telathor…’ he described a tight little circle which indicated the swift orbit the courier had made around Oreol before continuing en-route, ‘Border Station. We arrived just as the shuttle was about to leave so I transferred to that. Thirty seven days.’ He spoke without any of the shaken horror with which passengers normally staggered away from courier trips. And as he took in the looks of incredulity from those around him, he smiled again. ‘I don’t mind travelling by courier,’ he explained. ‘I’m used to it. All you need is a good VR set, the right clothes and a hammock.’ He indicated the unusual outfit he was wearing. ‘This is a freefall suit, used by skydivers – it absorbs some of the buffeting they get from the wind and the slight pressure of it helps with the effects of vibration. And a net hammock on springs is very much better at absorbing vibration than the bunks they use on couriers. I’ve suggested the hammock and suits more than once to people in the Fleet but they won’t have it – would rather be conventional and suffer, I daresay. As for the shower, I’ve found the trick to that…’
He folded his arms together over his head, and shuffled himself slowly around on the spot. Everyone who’d experienced the showers on a courier burst out laughing at that – they were notorious, coffin-sized and with erratic blasts which came from one side only. If you were anything more than very small and slim, squirming around trying to wash all over needed the agility of a contortionist. Tanlen was, indeed, demonstrating the only way it was possible to shower with any degree of comfort.
Alex was laughing too. He was well aware that Tanlen was doing this on purpose, establishing himself as a friendly, good humoured man posing no kind of challenge to Alex himself. He was aware that it was working, too, as people who’d been watching him warily out of the corners of their eyes were now laughing, relieved, relaxing. Dix was right, Alex thought, Tan Ganhauser was a man at the top of his game. He had charmed the Fourth into accepting him in five minutes flat. And he had, more subtly, demonstrated his credentials as a spacer, too… the path he had drawn in the air, as every spacer on the ship had recognised, was an accurate portrayal of the route between those systems.
‘Well, take as long as you need to settle in,’ Alex told him. ‘And come and talk to me whenever you like – unless I’m on comms to Carrearranis or in crisis response, consider me available.’
‘Thank you.’ Tan could see that one of the officers at the table was already talking to someone on planetary comms, telling them that the skipper would just be a minute, so he didn’t take up any more of Alex’s time. He allowed Buzz to take him off to the wardroom for a cup of tea, and after that, to the interdeck. There, he was introduced to Mako Ir
eson, though it was clear that introduction was a pure formality.
‘Mr Ireson… Mako…’ the ambassador looked at him with keen scrutiny along with a mischievous grin. ‘I should tell you,’ he said, with a teasing glance at Buzz, ‘that I am going to do my level best to headhunt you for my team.’
Mako looked more embarrassed than flattered. He had already resisted the best efforts of the Diplomatic Corps to claim him for their own, and really didn’t want to go through all those arguments again.
‘Hands off,’ said Buzz, already on such terms with Tan by then. ‘He’s ours.’
‘No pressure,’ Tan held up his hands, but gave Mako a sly wink that made him laugh.
‘Absolutely no chance,’ he told the ambassador. ‘But I’ll do whatever I can to help you here.’
Other introductions were made – Jun Desmoulin was hovering nearby, smiling self-consciously. He was not disappointed. Even if Tan didn’t actually remember him he certainly knew that Jun had worked for him briefly, far back in his career when he’d been little more than the office junior. Now Jun was an attaché, assigned to support Alex in his diplomatic role. He too assured Tan of his willingness to assist him, pointing out the little office which was officially funded by the Diplomatic Corps and known, rather facetiously, as the Embassy.
‘It is, of course, at your disposal, Excellency.’
‘Thank you, but Tan, please.’ He smiled. ‘I am Ambassador In Potentia, not in post, just in training.’
He still held his rank in the Corps, though, and most ambassadors would have insisted on their right to ‘Excellency’ regardless of whether they were currently in post or not. But then, the League had not chosen a conventional ambassador to succeed Alex von Strada. They had chosen the man they believed could run with him, then pick up from where he left off.
He was certainly a very pleasant guest. Even his response to being shown his quarters created a warm glow that spread around the ship on a wave of his thanks.
