Mission Zero (Fourth Fleet Irregulars) (11 page)

‘I haven’t been able to watch it myself, in any detail.’  His boss admitted.  ‘Been rather too busy dealing with the crisis, here.  But they’re giving a lot of airtime to the ranters accusing you of cover up.  They keep playing the footage they got of you going through the spaceport, this morning, too, that just seems to be on some kind of loop.’

‘Good grief,’ said Mako, astounded, and then, immediately concerned about his family, ‘they haven’t been hounding Inda and the children, have they?’

‘No – those Protection of Privacy Orders the Fleet advised us to get seem to be doing the job,’ she assured him.  ‘And I did call Inda, earlier, just to make sure she’s okay.  She says Pia thinks its very exciting, seeing you on the news, and Arcus, I gather, is scoring major cool points on campus.’

‘Oh, well,’ Mako looked relieved, ‘that’s all right then.  And you did warn me that it would be a high profile assignment.’

She goggled at him.  ‘What have they got you on there, some kind of chill-out juice?’  She queried, which made him laugh, picking up his mug and toasting her with it.  There were no green rings on these tables.  He’d already learned that mess deck tables were safe-surface, effectively
all
green ring, with independent power units and grav-panels built in underneath them.  ‘Best aloba,’ he said, which made her laugh, too, knowing what a coffeeholic he was.

‘Very civilised,’ she observed.  ‘And is the food okay?’

‘Fine,’ he said.  Lunch had not been anything he felt they needed to apologise for.  It was prepacks, of course, but of good quality and with a choice on the menu.  There were snacks available between meals too, so he wouldn’t be going hungry.

‘And you’re all right, there?’  She was trying to be casual about it but he could see that she was concerned.  ‘Where are you, now?  In sickbay?’

He grinned at that, too.  The comp they had given him would not allow him to show any background to where he was in case classified tech was visible in the shot, so it imposed a bland background in neutral beige.  For the same reason, it blocked out all sound other than his voice, in case classified matters were being discussed within range of the microphone.

‘No.  They did offer the bunk in sickbay but Dr Tekawa offered me his quarters in the wardroom instead if I preferred.  It’s more convenient for both of us so that’s what we’ve done.  I’m on the mess deck at the moment, though.’

‘But you have your own cabin?’  She queried.  That had been a concern of hers, wanting to be assured that the inspector she sent in there would be accommodated to an acceptable standard. 

‘Well, a cubby,’ he qualified.  ‘It’s just a bunk, lockers and shared use of a shower.  But that is the standard of accommodation all the officers have.  Even the skipper’s cabin is half the size of our stationery cupboard, and is used as an office by all the other officers too.  So they couldn’t have done any better by me, really.’

‘Oh, dear!’  She looked dismayed.  ‘Are you
sure
you’re going to be all right, there, Mako?’

‘Well, if I’m not, it won’t be the fault of anybody here,’ he said, amused, but sincere, too.  ‘I’ve never been made more welcome anywhere.  Everyone from the skipper to the most junior rating is looking after me and doing their best to make me comfortable.  It’s apparent that they do find my civilian incompetence amusing, but they’re being nice about it.  And I can, at least, now tell port from starboard and aft from for’ard.  It is, I feel, going to be a steep learning curve, but I knew that, really, when I agreed to coming along, and I have a feeling that it’s going to be as personally enriching as it is professionally exciting, too, so don’t even
think
about pulling me out, please.’

‘Well, all right, if you’re sure,’ she said, looking betrayingly relieved.  It would be a public relations nightmare if he left the ship now and both of them knew it, though she would support him in doing that if he felt that it wasn’t safe there, or that conditions would be intolerable.  ‘But you
will
be careful, there, won’t you?’

He assured her that he would and after a few more minutes’ conversation, ended that call and called his wife.  His daughter Pia was there, too, long since home from high school since they were two hours ahead of the time aboard ship.  She was indeed very excited, shrieking at her father, ‘Dad, you’re on the
news!’
and it was some time before he had reassured her and was able to talk to his wife.  She was fine, only concerned for his welfare as he was for hers and their children.  Though their elder ‘child’, Arcus, was grown up now, at seventeen. 

He was attending one of the many colleges of Chartsey System University, on the far side of the world from the family home.  He was living in dorm accommodation there, which Mako often suspected was the real point of university as far as his son was concerned.  That, and enthusiastic experimenting to find out just how much cheap beer the human body could hold.  He was tiresomely frivolous when his mother joined him in on the call.  It was very early in the morning where he was but he had not, as he informed his father, been to bed yet, as he and some mates had been watching the coverage all night.

‘And hey, who knew?’ he teased his father.  ‘My Dad is not only a lackey of the imperialist state, he’s the evil mastermind constructing a massive government cover up of top secret operations using prisoners on suicide missions.  Why didn’t you
tell
me your job was that interesting, Dad?’

By the time he had ended that call, Mako was in no doubt that his children were just fine, basking in the glory of their Dad being involved in something so thrilling.  He was reassured too that his wife, as always, was coping placidly with everything that life threw at her. 

He was coping rather less well with it himself when he’d finished talking to his family and spent a few minutes reviewing what had been going out on the media.  It gave him a strange feeling to see the footage of himself making his way through the spaceport, escorted by a cordon of spaceport security and surrounded by a barrage of cameras.

At the time he’d only been aware of the need to get across the concourse with dignity amidst the glaring lights and frantically shouting voices, saying ‘no comment’ a couple of times.  He was surprised to see just how stiff and coldly formal he came across on camera.

That was not the worst of it, though.  He discovered to his horror that his son had not been being as facetious as he had assumed.  They hadn’t used the word ‘evil’ but other than that, Arcus had the essence of what various groups were saying.

Mako found himself feeling really upset and offended by that, and was obliged to remind himself that he had been called a lot worse, often to his face, during many a prison inspection.  He was definitely feeling more stressed after that, though.  He was starting to look forward to the launch, himself, just to get away from all that and be able to focus on what he was here to do.

The launch, in fact, as he was also coming to appreciate, was actually under way already.  It was a process that took hours.  Most of it had been invisible to him, activity that made no sense, but as time went on, he saw how things geared up step by step.  For about half an hour, pretty much all of the crew seemed to be engaged in using devices that cleaned and buffed up surfaces to a high degree of shine.  Once the mess deck was shining to their satisfaction, Mako was politely requested not to use the tables until Mr Burroughs had done ‘rounds’.  This was a process that in which he walked about the ship with a hand-held scanner, complimenting the crew on the fine job they’d done. 

There was also a point at which an order was given of ‘visitors away’, at which Alica Higgs and her baby were seen off at the airlock by Jace Higgs and Buzz Burroughs.  It was an emotional parting, of course, but handled with sympathetic professionalism by Buzz.  He didn’t rush her off the ship but nor did he let things linger painfully.  The Fleet knew how to do this kind of thing so that partings were pangs rather than agonies.  Alica Higgs was a Fleet partner, too, accustomed to accepting that duty took priority over family life.  She also seemed to be in full agreement with them that the best place for her husband to be right now was ‘out there’, away from all the madness. 

It was interesting, Mako felt, that she had not expressed resentment at the Fleet taking her husband away, but only regret that she and the baby could not go with him.  She was assuring him as they left that they would be fine, and Buzz Burroughs reassured him of that, too, once the airlock had closed.

‘Jone will look after them,’ he told the crewman, with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Jace sounded a bit choked but managed a smile, for which Buzz gave him a nod of approval.

‘All right,’ he said, and gestured towards sickbay.  ‘Go and get your medical signed off.’

‘Sir,’ Jace acknowledged, and went off purposefully.

With Alica Higgs’ departure, though, there was a qualitative difference in the atmosphere aboard ship.  Suddenly people seemed to be a lot busier even to Mako’s untutored eye.  Many of them were attaching some kind of sticky discs over the fastenings of lockers and panels.  This, it was explained to him, sealed them shut as inspected and not to be opened again until after the launch.

They were in the midst of doing this when a discreet cheer came from the command deck.  Moments later, Jace Higgs dropped down through the hatch, grinning hugely and giving a thumbs up sign.  Dr Tekawa had signed off on his medical.  Just seconds after that, the PA system gave its preliminary
fleep.

‘Attention on deck,’ said the skipper.  Nobody came to attention but they stopped work and listened, many of them exchanging happy grins.  ‘I am required and directed to read in the following orders.’ 

The slightest of pauses, and then he continued, with a fine confidence in the archaic form of words, ‘To Alexis Sean von Strada, Master of the corvette Minnow, 49603-26.  Pursuant to the devices of the Constitution of the League of Worlds pertaining to the Defence and Preservation of all the worlds therein, you are hereby required and directed to venture the vessel in your command upon the perils of space.  You are required and directed to engage said vessel to the purpose of preserving and assisting all vessels at peaceful endeavour, complying with all directions as to the disposition of your vessel and command of the company therein.  All those members of the ship’s company willing to undertake the venture should signify their assent by saying aye.’

He had barely paused when the entire crew responded ‘Aye!’ in a ringing chorus.  With encouraging looks from all around, Mako said ‘Aye!’ too, a little behind the others but keen to show willing.  He heard laughter break out on the command deck and many of the crew around him were grinning broadly, too, but it felt warm, that, inclusive and approving.  The skipper sounded a little amused too as he continued, ‘Given this, the three hundred and seventy fourth day of the twenty two hundred and sixty ninth year of the Constitution, by the hand of Dixon Gerard Arakin Harangay, First Lord of the Admiralty.’  A slight pause, and then in a rather less formal tone, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are going back to the Pagolis.’

That was clearly no surprise, and got a cheer that in some cases had more irony than amusement, though it was brief, as they seemed to know that the skipper had not finished yet.  Nor had he, as he concluded the announcement with a tone of deep satisfaction underlying the official manner, ‘Orbit lift minus 37.’

That
got a cheer, though Mako looked at the time with some surprise.  They had more than an hour yet before the launch was scheduled, and he had not been notified of any change.

‘Does that mean that we’re going now?’ he asked, and was quickly reassured that they were still on track for launch as scheduled. 

‘Orbit lift just means that we break out of our parking orbit and start to make our way out of the system.’  Hali Burdon informed him.  ‘It takes us about three quarters of an hour to get out to where we start our run.  You’ll be able to see it better, really, up on the command deck.’  She indicated the zero-gee ladder way.  ‘Would you like to go up?’

It was his first time using the ladders, which he had been asked not to do unless a member of the crew was helping him.  In this case,
two
members of the crew, since Hali called on the petty officer of the deck to catch him.

‘Just relax,’ she said, seeing that he had got very tense.  The crew hurtled up and down ladders so fast it was quite alarming even to watch, and he was remembering how he’d floundered pathetically in sickbay during the freefall assessment.  ‘Don’t worry, it may take a little time to get used to, but it isn’t difficult, really.  Just don’t try to copy the way that we do it.  Take your time and keep hold of the ladder.  And always, till you’ve mastered landings, make sure there’s someone there to catch you.  So, just walk into the zero-gee zone as if you were going to climb the ladder normally, okay?  But then as you leave the deck, let your feet just hang, keeping them as relaxed as you can, and guide yourself up with your hands.  If you’re losing your line, just stop and I’ll set you straight again.  And Bill, up top, will help you to step off, all right?’

It was not, in fact, as difficult as Mako had feared.  Though it felt weird to take a step and find himself flying, it didn’t have that nauseating disorientation of the freefall assessment he’d had in sickbay.

‘You’re a natural, sir.’  Bill, the petty officer up top, encouraged him as he came up.  Then he took a respectful hold on Mako’s elbow, guided him off the ladder and pulled him gently so that he came down to land.  Mako thanked him, smiling with relief and satisfaction about evenly mixed.  Then he leaned over to thank Hali down below, too.  In doing so, he made the interesting discovery of what it felt like to have the lower part of your body in standard gravity while the upper part went into freefall.