Mission Zero (Fourth Fleet Irregulars)

by S J MacDonald

  ‘I have had the conversation a few times, yes.’ Alex said. ‘And have supported crew many times in dealing with their families. I had to deal with a case once, as a Sub-Lt, where a family was so concerned by the ‘wild tales’ their son was telling them that they wanted to have him psychiatrically assessed.’ He grinned, with a little easy shrug. ‘Again, goes with the territory for spacers. And is a complex issue in itself, because of the very blurred line there is between wildly incredible truth and spacer mythology.

  ‘The space monster of sector seventeen, for instance, is a classic example of that. Spacers know for a fact that there is something going on in that sector. It’s been an area of high incidence of sightings of something very large and very strange for nearly four hundred years, now. There is enough evidence in that for us to know that not all of those incidents can be dismissed as pranks or hoaxes. Some kind of alien ship is, for reasons unfathomable to us, visiting that sector on a pretty frequent basis.

  ‘But spacers often make sense of and cope with things with humour, so instead of just saying that there’s an unknown exo-vessel visiting sector seventeen, we’ve constructed this huge mythology about a space monster, with stories and debate over whether giant space-dwelling life is scientifically possible or not. So when groundsiders hear us telling spacer yarns about giant amoeba out in sector seventeen, they think its so ludicrous, even when you tell them there is evidence for some exo-vessel visiting the area, they don’t believe that either.’

  ‘Are these… solarans… the only aliens visiting our worlds, then?’ Mako asked, as he took in the implications of that.

  ‘To the best of my knowledge, yes.’ Alex said. ‘I believe there is some knowledge now of another civilisation across the Firewall, on third-party information passed on by the solarans. But that is very high-powered first contact stuff, you know, way beyond me. I know there were quarians visiting our worlds for a while not long after first contact. It was hoped that public reaction would be positive or open enough for them to be introduced. But it wasn’t, and they don’t come any more.

  ‘That’s a relationship which has gone very badly downhill since first contact, it has to be said. They too are a very peaceful people. They have no government in terms of a directing authority. All decisions are made by social consensus and in many ways, their culture is idyllic, with no crime or social issues. They are significantly more advanced than we are, particularly in the field of bioengineering, and very willing to share their technology. But they won’t come to our worlds unless they can do so openly. There is no concept of secrecy in their society, you see, and they will not be party to a secret relationship.

  ‘Being told that they are not allowed to come to our worlds as ordinary visitors because they fall outside the limits of the Homo Sapiens Identification Act is not making them happy with us at all. There are rumours that they are considering closing their borders to our ships, on the basis of ‘come back when you’re a bit more grown up and ready to be friends.’

  ‘The Buzzard is over there, now, on exodiplomacy assignment trying to do some relationship repair. But that’s complicated, of course, by the unfortunate reality that if we were to bring them to our worlds and introduce them on the news, we do know very well that there would be riots, panic and deaths, and no responsible authority can do that.

  ‘So we are, the League authorities, I mean, working what is called an exposure curve, with very carefully structured release of information to bring the public up to more awareness of the universe beyond their own skies. We hope to get to a point where people can make a distinction between terrifyingly aggressive Marfikians and peaceful friendly species and not just lump them all together in one panic-driven fear of ‘aliens’. I hope that I may see that in my lifetime, but seeing how people tend to react even to humans with very different body forms, even on Chartsey which is supposed to be the most cosmopolitan world in the League, I am not holding my breath.’

  Mako was acutely aware of how uncomfortable he’d been when he’d first met Martins, and could not deny that if aliens were to be openly going about in his city, he would be amongst those taking time off work. If they felt scared, he would be taking his family out of the city, too.

  ‘But you’re sure,’ he asked the skipper, ‘they’re not any threat to us?’

  Alex smiled. ‘Mr Ireson, our ships were able to capture theirs, even hundreds of years ago, despite their phenomenal speed,’ he said. ‘Because they are not armed. And they will always, you see, come to an invitation for a meeting, arriving unarmed, unprotected, and unresisting when they are seized. They may be hugely more advanced than we are technologically but there is no doubt at all which of us is the more dangerous species. Neither solarans nor quarians present any threat to us whatsoever.

  ‘And they do not, I should make it clear, visit our worlds without the knowledge and consent of local authorities. All League worlds, of course, have an action plan for what to do if any alien ship suddenly arrives there, and policy and procedures for if exo-visits are being requested through diplomatic channels. But national and city authorities also have a right to a say in that. Even the smallest town council, you know, will have an exo-policy and action plan for if their town is being visited. They’re not published, obviously, but there are many sectors of society in which this is common knowledge. That is gradually trickling into mainstream culture. It’s low credibility at first but with carefully structured supporting evidence being released, it will gradually become just something everybody knows.’

  ‘I feel manipulated.’ Mako admitted. ‘It’s like the government is making fools of us.’

  ‘Well, what are the alternatives?’ Alex pointed out, reasonably. ‘Put yourself in the president’s position, okay? You can’t go on holovision doing a public announcement when all experience and every expert is telling you that if you do that, you are going to be dealing with casualties, riots and economic crash. But at the same time, really, could you say to these amazing, peaceful people who want nothing more than to be our friends, ‘Please go away and come back in a few hundred years when we may be more mature as a society and able to be friends?’

  ‘Could you do that, Mr Ireson? With all the benefits that that relationship may bring for us as a species? We have, at least, moved beyond the policy of ‘capture them, find out everything we can about them by taking their ship apart and studying them in secret labs’. But things are still obviously very sensitive. So if the president, in some hypothetical reality, was to be facing that decision and asked you what you would advise, what would you say?’

  Mako considered. There was quiet in the cabin for what seemed like a very long time before realisation dawned.

  ‘I’d say,’ he replied, slowly, ‘that we should try to make friends with them while educating people so they wouldn’t panic. And that’s it, isn’t it? I see it. That’s what the exposure curve is, pushing it out into public domain without triggering a panic. And I suppose I’m part of that process, too, in a way, taking that information into the LPA.’

  ‘Yes, though don’t get into thinking that that was planned or that this is in any way structured or controlled at that kind of level.’ Alex said. ‘That’s where conspiracy theorists get it wrong. They’re often convinced that governments are targeting them and up to all kinds of wild shenanigans when in fact, the control is always a policy one between the government and the media. There is just nobody, at any level, doing things like deciding it’s time to clue in the LPA so picking out someone to tell about this. It’s far more random than that, just a general policy of social osmosis. So, you know, try not to get paranoid about it.’

  ‘It does make you feel kind of paranoid.’ Mako admitted. ‘And quite a shock to the system, too, to realise that the kind of people I’ve always dismissed as total nutters are actually right. I mean, I remember having a conversation with my son when he was in high school and there was some thing going about that aliens were on Chartsey. I told him not to get caught up in that ki
nd of lunatic fringe. Now I know they were actually right, and where does that leave me, now, with him? Do I tell him, and my wife and daughter? And risk them being seen as conspiracy nutters?’

  ‘Yes, you see, that’s what the socio-psychs call a contra-pressure to disclosure.’ Alex said. ‘The very natural human desire not to make social fools of ourselves. Which, along with the astoundingly widespread belief that something can not be true if it isn’t on the news, are the resistance that means word of mouth disclosure never goes very far. You have to make your own decision on that, of course. You may find it helpful to talk either to Buzz or Dr Tekawa on a personal counselling basis if you find you’re feeling troubled about it. But you should also be aware that you are, if you don’t mind me saying so, also experiencing something spacers call the Telmar Dip. Has Dr Tekawa talked to you about that, at all?’

  Mako suppressed a desire to say that Dr Tekawa never stopped telling him about things. In fact, even as he thought that, memory and realisation were arising.

  The ship’s medic had told him about this not long after they’d left Chartsey. It was a very common phenomenon, he’d been assured, even amongst experienced spacers, but was of particular concern with first voyagers. The Telmar Dip, so named after the first ship’s medic to identify and write it up as a space ‘condition’, was the tendency for people to become depressed and anxious, typically after being on a starship for two or three weeks. Psychologically, up to that point, Rangi Tekawa had explained, you felt yourself to be almost on holiday. Everything was new and exciting and you were having fun. Then the novelty would wear off and something would happen which would upset you a little and there you’d be, suddenly, aware that you couldn’t just go home the way you would after a tough day at work, that you were stuck with these people. You would also become aware of how very far from home you were, with pangs of homesickness very common, and because you were still heading away with no immediate prospect of heading home, either, you felt yourself to be trapped in a kind of limbo. The medic had told him to be alert to that, and had given good advice on how to deal with it when it arose, but Mako had forgotten.

  ‘I’m familiar with the same kind of thing in new prisoners,’ he observed. ‘That, often two to three weeks in, is when it really hits them, that this is it, now, this is going to be their life for the next so many months or years. Dr Tekawa told me to look out for it, too. And you’re right, that was how I was feeling, even before the alien thing. I just didn’t recognise it in myself.’

  ‘We generally don’t.’ Alex said, with a smile. ‘Which is why spacers do look out for one another, in that. It’s possible even that someone decided to tell you about C-Storage and solaran visitors to excite and distract you and help you through the dip. And it should help to be aware that it is just a dip, okay? Particularly if you’re aware of it and doing the right things to fight it, you can get through it in just a day or two and be just fine.’

  Mako felt comforted. ‘Thanks, Skipper,’ he said. ‘So, what would your advice be, then?’

  ‘Well, we’ll be calling in at Paradise Gardens in three days, which will get you off the ship for a bit.’ Alex said. ‘And if an opportunity comes up for ship visiting, we’ll certainly include you in that. Otherwise, the best advice is just to keep busy and try to stay focussed on why you’re here. In which, would I be right in thinking that you’re in the zone now of feeling that you’ve already achieved what you wanted to, professionally?’

  As Mako gave him an astounded look, the skipper read his thoughts on his face, and smiled. ‘No, we haven’t been looking at your files, I promise you,’ he assured him. ‘But you have stopped going around with questionnaires. You’re no longer making notes, you’re obviously spending most of your time writing up reports, and you are no longer asking questions about the rehab policy and practice. All your questions are about the functions of the ship. So it’s not hard to figure out that you feel you’ve got everything you need, at least for now, for your report.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Mako admitted. ‘I wouldn’t normally spend more than a week inspecting a residential rehab facility on this kind of scale, and nor would I be there round the clock. There is obviously a lot more to learn here, since we have no knowledge or experience of Fleet practice, but I do feel that I’ve been able to cover all the ground that I need to, as you say, at least for now. I don’t want to get off, you know,’ he added, earnestly, as if concerned that the skipper might think he did. ‘I do appreciate that my presence on board is something of an imposition but I would like very much to continue with the observations, to see the progress of the parolees and have the fullest picture possible not just for my report but to inform my future dealings with the Fleet.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I wasn’t going to offer to put you on a liner going back, or anything,’ Alex replied. ‘Obviously you are keen to see it through, and we are more than happy to have you on board, Mr Ireson. We are, in fact, enjoying your company very much. Not only is it gratifying to be able to talk about what we do with someone of your expertise, but there is, how can I put this, a great deal of pleasure for us in seeing the thrill and amazement on your face when we show you something of our world.

  ‘So, if your professional observations aren’t going to take up as much of your time, perhaps you’d like to consider another focus. We have any number of academic courses on board which you are very welcome to do, if you fancy that. You might also consider choosing a member of the crew to shadow, to get a more in depth understanding of what’s going on aboard the ship.

  ‘Though I would also suggest, frankly, that you consider taking some time off. Our watch schedule, as I’m sure you’re aware, does give crew one day in six as a ‘rest day’. It’s not a day off in the groundsider sense, of course, because there are still general duties and drills, but it is a day when we take time just to lounge on bunks, watch movies, take time to be by ourselves.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ said Mako, with a betraying tone of yearning. ‘But is there, can I ask, anything I might be able to do to help? I don’t mind what it is – helping to clean the ship, anything.’ He had offered more than once to help with that. All the crew not on watch seemed to be involved in a brisk cleaning session shortly after breakfast and he’d felt awkward being the only one not lending a hand.

  ‘Sorry – cleaning the ship is actually a lot more sophisticated than it looks,’ the skipper told him, amused. ‘It’s a three week course in basic training that requires high school chemistry and biology as an entry point. It’s a hazmat process, you see, equivalent to a qualification as a lab technician. There’s only one job on Fleet ships that civilian passengers are allowed to assist with, by ancient tradition, and that’s helping in the galley. There’s a food hygiene course you have to do for that, which you could do in a day or two. You could then be authorised to lend a hand at the counter. But it isn’t something we’d suggest, obviously, to any guest!’

  ‘Oh, you know, I would really like to do that!’ Mako felt his spirits rise, even at the thought. It would be great not just to have something purposeful to do, but something that would be a small help to pay them back for all their hospitality. ‘Could I really?’

  ‘Certainly – just mention it to Martins, and he’ll set you up with the course,’ the skipper said amicably.

  Mako thanked him and departed feeling much more positive, which he dutifully made a note of in his inspection notes, later, though without as yet committing anything to record about alien visitors. That, he felt, would take some thinking about.

  In the meantime, though, he was very effectively distracted by the prospect of even a brief excursion from the ship. An hour or so later he was back on the command deck, this time to sit there looking out for a freighter they were expecting to pass. If it was still on the same course and speed as when a liner coming the other way had encountered it, they should be coming up on it any time now.

  He was, however, to be disappointed of that experience. They certainly came up on
the freighter pretty much where expected. They slowed to exchange the usual courtesy signals: timecheck and shipping, news and entertainment flash. An invitation to the freighter crew for an exchange of ship-visits, though, ended right there. Not only was the invitation declined but they also declined the offer of a gift box, leaving the corvette nothing to do but signal them best wishes for the journey and speed on.

  ‘That’s a big ship.’ Mako observed, to cover his disappointment.

  Even that comment, however, demonstrated just how much he had learned in the last few days. When he’d first come aboard, he’d looked at visual readouts, and since they always framed a ship in best fit to the screen, he had hardly any basis for telling them apart. Now, though, he looked at heatscan, noting the impressive array of white-hot dots within the ship’s structure. The ship, Colestar Logistical Solutions 11, was a long thin cylinder covered by porcupine quills, each of which was clustered about with shipping containers. ‘How many engines does it have?’

  ‘Sixty eight,’ said Buzz, who was holding the watch. ‘It actually out masses the Zeus by some way, but it is a lot slower and has a much smaller crew. Zeus carries a ship’s complement of five hundred and ninety seven, but container ships even that big rarely have more than thirty to forty crew. The Colestar Eleven has thirty four crew and nine passengers on board. It carries up to fourteen hundred shipping containers, each of which, to give you some idea of scale, can hold five of the kind of lorry container you see in air traffic.’

  ‘Impressive,’ Mako said, and observed mildly. ‘Though they weren’t very friendly.’

  Buzz grinned. ‘They’re almost certainly smuggling,’ he said, and laughed a little at Mako’s quick double take. ‘There are other possible explanations for a ship refusing the offer of a Fleet gift-box, but when they’ve already been out nearly a month, the chances of them refusing for any other reason than ‘something to hide’ are very small. They are on Customs and Excise’ list of ‘vessels of interest’, though that isn’t saying much given that the Customs list includes about twenty per cent of all freight shipping. If you look on their launch record, it shows that they were taken aside, delayed several hours, by a thorough customs search. But if you look at the records of sightings of them, it’s apparent that they were off route for some hours, five days out, which was almost certainly a rendezvous with another ship or pickup from a cargo drop.’