Mission Zero (Fourth Fleet Irregulars) (5 page)

They departed in style, however.  There were ritual signals requesting and granting permission to detach, then full gun salutes were exchanged.  Laser cannons blasted out in a great blaze of light, stabbing out from the squadron’s ships in perfect synchronisation.  With that, though, Minnow merely shifted over a few thousand klicks to their newly assigned parking orbit.

Alex was not sorry to be leaving Zeus squadron.  He had served aboard the Zeus carrier during his accelerated progress through the ranks.  He had only been there for four months, but it had been long enough for him to get on the wrong side of the Zeus’s commander, Captain Urquart.  The relationship had not improved since Alex von Strada had returned to Zeus squadron, now commanding his own corvette.  Captain Urquart was Old School Fleet, very much of the same kind of mind-set as Lord Admiral Jennar, and he had made no secret of his opinion of Alex von Strada. 

It was, therefore, with mutual relief that the Minnow saluted and glided out of the squadron.  There was a sense almost of liberation as the Minnow slipped into its new parking place. 

None of the rows flaring around them had demoralised the Minnow’s crew.  They might be bewildered, indignant, and amazed by the things that were being said about them but not one of them had quailed under it, not one had asked for a transfer.  If anything, their commitment to the project had been strengthened, as had their sense of identity and pride in their ship.  They had even asked whether they might have their own uniform now that they were an Irregular unit.  For now, though, they were still wearing standard Fleet rig with no change to either their own insignia or that displayed by the ship.  Within a few minutes, they were settling down cheerfully to the normal Fleet routines of preparing for launch.

Just over ten minutes later, a Fleet shuttle came through the swarm of media and other system craft that were nudging at the exclusion zone.  As it approached, it signalled that it was bringing a passenger for them, which came as no surprise.  Alex had been sent a message overnight informing him that the LPA had accepted his invitation to send an inspector aboard.  They would be coming aboard at some point that morning and accompanying them on patrol.  The officers and crew had already been informed of that.  There was a general feeling that that would be a good idea, if only to be able to show those idiots campaigning against them that their concerns were groundless.

Buzz Burroughs, Minnow’s Executive Officer, went to the airlock to welcome the inspector aboard.

People who didn’t know otherwise often assumed that Buzz Burroughs had been inflicted on Alex von Strada.  Many people thought that since Alex was the youngest skipper appointed to ship command in the last century, some wit at the Fleet had given him one of the oldest serving officers of the last century as his second in command to even up the balance.  Buzz was pushing seventy, past the age at which the Fleet would normally allow officers to serve aboard ship.  In fact, Alex had asked for him.  Buzz had been a formative influence in his own time as a junior officer and Alex was of the view that he was the finest Exec in the Fleet.

Alex himself was on the command deck, doing deskwork there as he preferred to rather than working in the claustrophobic environment of his cabin.  Not that the command deck was particularly spacious, either.  Minnow was a three and a half deck ship, just forty three metres from nose to stern.  There was a four-station datatable occupying most of the central space on the command deck, with densely packed consoles and readouts all around.  It was also a through-route, with people coming and going to the comms or computer room for’ard, or up to the hold.  There was the usual background noise of many voices overlaying a lot of active tech, but Alex could still hear the conversation taking place at the main airlock.

‘League Prisons Authority, Inspector Mako Ireson.’  The voice was professional, assured, but with just a trace of underlying anxiety.  ‘I believe you are expecting me?’

‘Yes, indeed – welcome aboard, Mr Ireson.’  Buzz greeted him warmly as the airlock thunked closed.  ‘I’m Buzz Burroughs, executive officer… is this all your luggage?’

‘Yes – I’ve brought all the things on the list the Fleet sent.  No hard soled shoes or anything they said not to bring.’

One of the ratings at stations on the command deck paused in what he was doing and turned his head, a broad grin dawning on his face.  The skipper had said that the inspector was unlikely to be an experienced spacer, but both the nature of that comment and the slightly nervous tone of it made it instantly apparent that Inspector Ireson was a groundhog.

‘Thrask.’  Alex’s look as he got the crewman’s attention was mildly reproving, and his slight but pointed nod told him to return his attention to the work he was doing.

‘Sir.’  Able Star Thrask acknowledged, and turned to focus on the diagnostic sweep that he was carrying out, manfully controlling his grin.  Back at the airlock, it was evident that Rangi Tekawa had heard the arrival and come out of sickbay, since Buzz was introducing him.

‘This is Dr Tekawa, our ship’s medic and environmental safety officer.’  Buzz explained.  ‘He’ll be helping to settle you in and looking after you during your visit.’

‘Hello, hello.’  That was Rangi at his breeziest, as disconcertingly friendly as a very large puppy.  ‘
Such
a pleasure – welcome, welcome.  Do call me Rangi.’  Alex did not need to look to see that there would be enthusiastic hand shaking going on, with that.

Dr Rangi Tekawa, aged twenty two, was on his second shipboard placement as ship’s medic.  The first one had not gone well, as his previous skipper had requested his transfer and had written NOT SUITED FOR SHIPBOARD SERVICE in infuriated capitals.  He had been sent to Minnow in the hope that Alex von Strada might be able to instil in him some notions of military discipline.

 Alex, in fact, had not found that necessary.  Rangi Tekawa complied willingly with Fleet regulations.  He wore uniform when he was supposed to and had responded very well to a request that he wear shoes aboard ship.  True, when off duty he could be found going about barefoot, wearing strange hats and attending spiritual healing retreats, but what he did in his own time was his own business as far as Alex was concerned.  He did not object to the chandra meditation chanting which had driven Rangi’s previous skipper berserk, or to the exotic smells of the aromatherapy capsules he unleashed about the ship, or to his having transformed sickbay into a holistic healing space.  There was nothing in it which violated safety regulations, and Alex was far more inclined to encourage individuality in his crew than to try to crush it.

‘Oh – er, thank you, uh, Dr Tekawa.’  Inspector Ireson sounded a little taken aback, clearly not having expected that kind of reception. 

‘We have a bunk for you in sickbay.’  Buzz told him.  ‘Or Dr Tekawa is happy to give you the use of his own quarters if you prefer.  Take a look at them both and decide, then – you’re very welcome, either way.  But do, please, come and meet the skipper.  Just through here… this is the command deck.’

Mako Ireson came through the hatchway.  He was in his mid fifties, well groomed, and had come aboard ship wearing a smart, managerial-type business suit in the current Chartsey fashion.  That meant a straight-cut jacket with lapels and contrast details black against the dark orange of the matt fabric, with straight cut, narrow legged pants, and a bright white tunic-style shirt.  He looked as incongruous in that setting as a tropical bird.  He was clearly uncomfortable, clutching the civilian sports-grip in which he’d brought his kit and glancing uneasily around at the intimidatingly high tech surroundings.  Then he focussed his attention on Alex, surveying him with a very guarded air as Buzz led him the few steps over to the command datatable.

‘Inspector Mako Ireson, sir, of the LPA.’  Buzz introduced him formally, and Alex got to his feet courteously and offered his hand. 

‘Welcome aboard, Inspector,’ he could see that the inspector had his ID ready in his hand, and looked as if he had been going to show it.  But he adapted well, hastily transferring the ID card to his other hand and shaking hands with the skipper. 

‘Thank you, uh…’ he seemed suddenly at a bit of a loss, and enquired, ‘Am I expected to call you sir?’

As everyone on the command deck stopped, turned, and stared at him, Alex did not betray his own hilarity by so much as a twitching muscle.

‘No,’ he assured him.  ‘You’re a civilian.  My rank is Shipmaster, though it only says that on official documents.  ‘Skipper’ is correct.’

‘Ah, right,’ the inspector looked relieved.  ‘Thank you, uh, Skipper,’ he glanced around again, this time seeing the faces staring at him, many with expressions of appreciative mirth.  ‘Very impressive, this,’ he said, with an evident desire to compliment.  Alex gave his crew a look that, whilst calmly impassive, made it very clear to them that he expected nothing but the highest courtesy toward their guest.  Many of them were grinning, and A/S Thrask’s shoulders were visibly shaking, but they managed at least not to burst out laughing.

‘Thank you.’  Alex said, avoiding meeting Buzz Burroughs’s gaze because even his iron self control had its limits.  ‘If you would just sign the log, please, Inspector.’

Mako accepted the pen he was offered and signed the screen that the skipper activated for him, confirming that he had read and accepted all the terms and conditions under which the Fleet agreed to his presence aboard the ship.

‘Thank you.’  Alex took back his pen once the formalities were over, enquiring, ‘Have you, er, travelled intersystem before, Inspector?’

‘No.’ Mako Ireson replied, though assuring, at once, ‘I’m perfectly happy about it, though, and have been superlight any number of times, of course, in the system, on buses and things.’

A little whimpering noise came from the direction of the Diagnostics station where A/S Thrask was testing telemetry links.  He had always had a problem with inappropriate hilarity.  That, in fact, was why he was here, as his tendency to get fits of the giggles had got him into trouble more than once.  The final straw had come when he’d been on minor report for getting the giggles on duty.  Most unfortunately, the petty officer escorting him into the Exec’s office for a reprimand had broken wind just outside the door.  Thrask’s utterly helpless glee had ended up with far more serious charges of insubordination.  He was one of the ‘last chance’ bullocks sent to Alex von Strada, with a microsteps programme worked out and agreed with him to address this issue.  Alex could see, in fact, that he was making heroic efforts to implement the training he’d been given in bringing fits of hilarity under control, focussing his gaze on a fixed point, deep and steady breathing, and, no doubt, mentally reciting the ‘professional conduct’ mantra which Buzz had taught him. 

A glance at the petty officer on deck duty told Alex that she too was aware of that situation.  Chief Petty Officer Hali Burdon was one of the most valuable members of the ship’s company, headhunted by Alex precisely for this role.  He had prised her from the very reluctant hands of her previous skipper, who was of the fully justified opinion that CPO Burdon was far more useful than most officers.  She was a spacer born and bred – literally, born in space, raised a space brat on freighters, already a fully qualified deckhand and pilot when she’d joined the Fleet at sixteen.  Now twenty four, she had risen through the ranks as rapidly as Fleet regulations allowed.  She had, besides immense expertise, an easy good-natured authority that made her both respected and liked.  Her brief smile for the skipper assured him that she was fully aware of A/S Thrask’s hovering on the brink of hilarity meltdown, and reassured him that she would deal with it.  Leaving that with her, therefore, Alex returned his own attention to the inspector.  

‘Ah,’ he said, in a carefully neutral tone.  Rangi Tekawa, however, oblivious to the atmosphere around him, was focussed on his own responsibilities here.  They’d been expecting a groundhog, but they had assumed that the LPA would send someone who knew
something
about starships, with some experience of travelling on liners, at least.  Throwing a first voyager straight onto a warship launch was going to be a learning curve so steep that the poor man would be hanging off it by his fingernails. 

‘Oh!’  Rangi exclaimed, and went straight to the most important matter as far as he was concerned.  ‘How are you in freefall?’  As Mako Ireson looked at him in evident perplexity, the medic clarified, ‘Do you get freefall sick?  Motion sickness?’

‘I don’t know.  I don’t think so.’  Mako replied.  ‘I’m all right in cars and things, though I did feel sick once when I went on a boat.’

Over at his station, A/S Thrask turned, scarlet faced, and gave CPO Burdon an imploring look.  As he did so, he made a T sign with his hands to which she gave an immediate nod.  She went straight to his station without comment, placing one hand briefly on his shoulder in the regulation manner signalling ‘I relieve you’.  Then as Thrask slipped out of his seat, she moved calmly in to take his place.  She was summoning the relief watch keeper as Able Star Thrask left the command deck with as much speed as Fleet regulations allowed.  He managed to get all the way down to the mess deck before giving way to the hooting and guffawing, too, for which Alex mentally scored him a credit on his microsteps programme. 

Mako did not seem to have noticed the incident going on behind him.  It was, no doubt, all part of the incomprehensible activity going on all around, and his attention was currently on the conversation he was having with the skipper and the medic.  Buzz was standing there with that particular look of serene innocence that Alex knew was his own control for an inner giggling fit.  Rangi Tekawa, with rather less dignified social skills, was looking frankly amazed.