The silver fleet the com.., p.35
The Silver Fleet: The Complete Series, page 35
Silva produced a napkin. Written on it were the words: Let the girl help.
Faulkner examined the writing. It was Morton’s.
“Help me do what?”
“Get dressed of course.”
Faulkner snatched the shirt from her. “I’ll be fine.”
Silva stood her ground. She no doubt felt as awkward as he did but she made no effort to leave. Faulkner looked around the corridor. The floor was so richly carpeted that it absorbed almost all noise.
If anyone was watching, this would look highly irregular.
But he was in a hurry.
“Oh, very well then.”
Once inside, Silva was very methodical but, more importantly, she was discreet. She moved with purpose and precision. First of all, she helped him finish tying his shoes and then she turned to his shirt. Keeping her eyes averted for the most part, she stood back and let Faulkner get on with it, only stepping in to assist when he couldn’t manage something on his own.
Every once in a while she would have to move in close –usually to help him with his buttons - and it was in those moments that he was most aware of her: the scent of her perfume or just the warmth of her body as she moved against him. At one stage, as she was helping him with his cuffs, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He looked to be enjoying the experience.
“Er, thank you, lieutenant,” he said but as soon as she had finished one cuff she started on the other.
“Sir, you could make this a whole lot easier for both of us if you’d just call me by my first name.”
“Oh, very well. Jo, is it?”
“Joanna, please. Before we left, Doctor Morton provided me with a copy of Governor Ardent’s psych profile. It appears that she is highly susceptible to male authority figures, particularly military ones.”
Faulkner stood still while she adjusted his cuff.
“So, how does that help to get the governor onside?”
“You need to speak with her in private.”
Faulkner pulled his arm away and examined the cuff. “The governor has agreed to a private meeting tomorrow morning, just before we leave.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but that will be far too late. You must speak with her tonight. You need to find out what the Yakutians have promised her.”
“I’m not going to rush into this. Tomorrow morning will be fine.”
“Not if the deal’s already been done, sir. Syashami is leaving straight after the dinner tonight. Before he goes, he’ll push for one last meeting. That’ll be his best opportunity to pressure her into signing a deal. You need to talk to her before that can happen.”
“I don’t think that Governor Ardent is going to allow herself to be manipulated quite that easily.”
“And I’m sure the Governor would agree with you. The problem is she’s in a very vulnerable position right now caught between the Da’al, the Yakutians and the Confederation. It’s possible that Syashami is prepared to offer her whatever she wants in order to bring her onside – increased patrols, a permanent military base, perhaps?”
Silva had obviously been discussing this with the rest of the diplomatic team in his absence. He wasn’t sure he was happy about that.
“I think that’s highly unlikely. The Yakutians have always put the defence of their home planets first. They’d have to be looking at a major policy change to include Blackthorn in that and the Vice Consul alone wouldn’t carry anything like that amount of clout.”
“Perhaps that’s why the Serrayu is here. He could have a whole team of diplomats on-board. They could be going over the details for a proposal as we speak.”
Faulkner hadn’t thought of that.
“And where would that leave us?”
“Out in the cold, sir. We will be blamed for losing what could have been a very valuable asset. Plus, the possibility of you brokering a deal on those engines would be dead in the water. There’d be no reason for them to want to help us then.”
She was right, of course. If Syashami could convince Ardent of the Empire’s long-term support either by setting up a military facility or developing a sustained military presence then that would be enough to force Ardent’s hand. The emergence of the Da’al as a credible threat would only add to her fears. Under those circumstances, she’d be a fool not to sign with them.
The importance of getting an agreement to secure those engines seemed more marked than ever. Without that, the Mantis would be stuck where they were. They’d have to wait for months before a replacement set could be shipped in from Lincoln.
What a fool he’d been.
“Okay,” Faulkner said. “What do I need to do?”
*
Webster decided he needed a break. In the absence of any other refreshments he’d just have to make do with another cup of coffee. Having a brand-new coffee machine installed on the bridge had been one of Faulkner’s first decisions. Webster hadn’t thought much of the idea at first as it had robbed him of the ready excuse to leave the bridge for a short break but now he was glad of it.
He re-filled his cup, enjoying the warmth of it against his hands. Faulkner always kept the bridge at a slightly lower temperature than was comfortable. Webster assumed that was to prevent anyone from dozing off on a long watch but, since the only seat on the bridge was the command chair, he somehow doubted that.
He tried to pick up on what was being discussed by the Intelligence team over in the corner, but couldn’t quite make it out. Voices had been raised earlier and he was intrigued to know exactly what was going on. He was all set to return to his chair when he had a change of heart and detoured over to where they were all standing. Upon his approach, the demeanour of the various crew members gathered changed markedly. Their voices dropped and they stood more upright as they became aware of their CO’s presence. All that is, apart from one of them: a female ensign, new to the bridge, whose name he didn’t know. So caught up was she in what she was saying that she failed to pick up on the cues from the officers surrounding her.
“I don’t understand why you’re dismissing this,” she was speaking directly to Lieutenant Yamada. “It’s not a criticism of you.”
Yamada was working hard not to react but was clearly facing some provocation. While he wasn’t responsible for the Intelligence team he did share a number of personnel with them.
“The point is that this is an anomaly,” she was saying. “A small one, I’ll grant you, but if we don’t flag them up when they appear, then I have to ask the question: why are we keeping track of them in the first place.”
With the others failing to react, she finally realise that something was going on behind her. She turned to see Webster standing there. The woman was less than five feet tall but appeared remarkably assured considering her age. Her dirty blonde hair was cut short and gave her a boyish demeanour. As soon as she realised that she’d drawn the o.c.’s attention, her features took on a scarlet hue.
Yamada pulled a disgruntled face.
“This is Ensign Roberts. Her team has been tasked with analysing the thrust signatures of the Da’al before they left the system.”
“That’s good to know,” Webster said. “And they’re definitely gone? We’ve already had one big surprise today, we don’t need another.”
The other four team members smiled at his joke although it didn’t appear to lighten the mood any.
“If I may say so, sir, that’s just lazy thinking,” Roberts said.
“How so?”
“Well, hoping that something won’t happen is no guarantee that it won’t.”
“Ensign!” Yamada’s words cut across her.
Roberts stared blankly at him, before turning to face Webster.
“Of course, I wasn’t suggesting that your thinking was in any way lazy, sir.”
Webster made a gesture of dismissal. “I’m just trying to get a handle on what you’ve learned, that’s all.”
Roberts had at least some operational sense because she looked for Yamada’s approval before carrying on.
“It’s like that old expression: how do you rob a bank? Blow up the building across the street.”
“I’m sorry?”
“If you blow up the building across the street all the bank staff come out to look. That way, no one will be around when you decide to rob it.”
“Oh, I see,” Webster said. “You’re talking about a distraction.”
“That’s right. My team have been burning their eyes out analysing all this data and we think we’ve finally come up with something. I just want to check whether what we’re seeing is significant or not.”
Yamada said, “As you can appreciate, sir, there’s a lot of activity in this system. We can’t hope to keep track of all of it.”
Roberts made to respond but Yamada gave her a look which could not be misinterpreted and she stayed quiet.
He continued, “Which is why we’re constantly monitoring the situation. Things are changing on our long-range scans all the time and what looked like an enemy destroyer a few hours ago suddenly turns out to be some cargo ship hauling rocks.”
But Roberts wasn’t finished. While she kept her lips sealed shut she also had her hand raised as if in school.
“With respect, sir,” Yamada said, ignoring her. “I don’t want to be coming to you every five minutes with every little thing that comes up.”
This last was directed straight at Roberts but she seemed unrepentant. She still kept her hand in the air.
“Permission to speak, sir.”
“Granted.”
“It’s difficult at the best of times to make out a black object against a black background – especially at the kind of distances we’re dealing with - but we’ve somehow managed to locate something. Admittedly, it doesn’t have the profile of a traditional vessel but then we wouldn’t expect that if this was a probe.”
“And that’s what you think this thing is?” Webster said. “A probe?”
“It has all the elements of one, sir,” Roberts said, warming to her theme. For a start, it’s coming from the right direction and the timing is critical: as soon as their last ship left the system this one appeared. It could be that the Da’al want to closely monitor the situation or it could be…”
“Nothing at all,” Yamada said.
Could it have come from the Da’al? Was this their response to the destruction of their ship? Faulkner had been expecting a battle fleet but not this. And if it did turn out to be some kind of probe, the speed with which the Da’al had got it operational was very worrying indeed.
Webster turned to Yamada. “Understood, lieutenant. But still, I think this could be worth following up.”
Roberts stood a little straighter on hearing that.
Yamada’s response was curt, “I’ll see to it, sir.”
Webster went back to his command chair. The arrival of the Serrayu had put pressure on everyone. Certainly it was the first time he’d seen Yamada’s normal good humour being tested. And the one thing that they were all struggling to come to terms with was the size of the threat posed by the Da’al. Here was a new and unexpected alien race whose motives they had yet to fully understand.
Their appearance threatened to push all concerns about the Yakutians firmly into the background. And, while it was true that the Mantis had been successful in turning back the Da’al’s first attack there was, at the same time, a grudging acceptance that they had perhaps been fortunate in doing so. Three ships had so far ventured into the Allegra system but the Mantis had only had to deal with one of them. The issue at the back of everyone’s mind was what would happen if the Da’al returned in strength?
Alongside this, was the uncertainty surrounding the issue of when, or if, they might ever return. The simple fact that no one knew was leading to a growing sense of unease which permeated every level of the ship.
All this anxiety had led to an atmosphere in which a lowly ensign saw fit to openly question the opinions of a senior officer. Webster was quite sure that Faulkner would have dealt with Roberts’s insubordination in quite a different manner. The only problem was that Webster thought that she might have a valid point. Why would the Da’al commit themselves to a larger attack without sending in some kind of intelligence gathering equipment first?
It did sort of make sense to send in a probe.
Webster raised the cup to his lips but it was only after he tasted it that he realised that it had gone cold.
CHAPTER FIVE
Faulkner and his team arrived on the steps of the state parliament building thirty minutes before the main event was due to start. A large crowd had gathered outside in the hope of catching sight of the various guests as they arrived and, while Silva and the rest of the team had been led in through a side entrance, Faulkner had been tasked with climbing the red carpeted staircase. Sigrid Ardent waited for him at the top dressed in a mustard yellow dress complete with its own floor length cape.
Two members of her security team had met with him earlier. They had been very professional in the way that one of them administered a full body search while the other scanned him for possible surveillance equipment. The unstated assertion had been that if he didn’t submit himself to such scrutiny then there would be no way that he would have been permitted to join Ardent on the red carpet.
Everything about her appearance, highlighted her civilian nature. Her dress was cut to accentuate her figure, with the upper half cut away leaving her left arm and shoulder completely bare. The statement was clear: strong but feminine. This was in direct contrast to Faulkner’s traditional military uniform. Every aspect of Ardent’s look, from her hair to her jewellery, to her make-up, had been carefully managed to make Faulkner look like some relic from a bygone era.
His media training, upon gaining the captaincy of the Mantis, had been cut short due to necessity but even he could recognise how accomplished Ardent was in the way that she managed the situation for maximum effect. Everything pointed to the woman being both highly attractive and extremely capable. She took Faulkner’s elbow as soon as he got to the top of the stairs and carefully positioned him, in order that the various newsfeeds got the shots they required. She was very comfortable with the whole situation and extremely media-savvy, quickly cycling through a wide range of emotions– at one moment sunny and optimistic, at the next steadfast and secure. Throughout all of this, Faulkner just had to stand there, acutely aware of how thinly his own smile was being stretched.
As they were maneuverd over to take up position in front of a large stone statue, Faulkner asked, “Is there going to be much more of this?”
“Are you not enjoying yourself, captain?”
“It feels like I’m getting married all over again,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just not used to this kind of attention.”
“We’ll try and be gentle with you, then.”
Ardent waved at the large crowd that was spread out in front of them. A small number, grouped at the front, waved back.
“Only, I was hoping that we might find an opportunity to speak privately.”
“And we will, I’ve pencilled you in for a breakfast meeting tomorrow.”
Faulkner looked out over the crowd. Some of the people at the back were raising banners but they were too far away to read what they said.
“I’m afraid that might be too late. I really need to speak with you as a matter of urgency.”
Ardent gave him an appraising look. “I’ll see what we can set up later. But for now, we need some official shots. Perhaps one of you meeting the other dignitaries?”
They were being called over to stand in front of an impressive glass sculpture.
“Would Vice Consul Syashami be included amongst those dignitaries?”
Ardent gave him a shrug. “Of course. It’s important that we get a full record of events.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to politely decline that offer, then.”
At this point, a number of lighting drones were gathering overhead and both he and Ardent were being asked to stand side by side.
Ardent spoke through her smile. “It’s not as if we can pretend that the Vice Consul isn’t here. And besides, it would please me enormously if you would agree to this, Robert.”
It was the first time she’d addressed him using his first name and he couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d kissed him. He felt totally disarmed by the intimacy of it.
“Governor, you’ve been very generous, but I must insist. When I left Lincoln, the USDC was on the brink of hostilities with the Empire. Who knows, we may be at war with them as we speak. I can’t be seen shaking hands with someone who could turn out to be my sworn enemy.”
It was the sort of gaff which had destroyed countless careers, but that wasn’t the reason why he was objecting to it now. If he was serious about getting some time alone with the Ardent then he needed some leverage.
“I’m sorry, governor, but that’s my decision.”
Their conversation came to an abrupt halt as the cycle of poses began again. Faulkner was glad to step to one side so that he was out of the spotlight for a moment. He watched as Syashami and Ardent were placed centre stage, the lighting drones buzzing back and forth over head. Ardent seemed to have taken his decision in her stride but he couldn’t believe that would be the end of it.
When the session was finished the dignitaries were escorted inside.
The main hall was laid out in the style of Louis XIV - from the embroidered wall hangings down to the make-up of the furniture. Faulkner was impressed by the level of detail on display but was sceptical about the overall effect. It felt like they were aping a period rather than attempting to create a new style all their own, as though having extended this far out into space they had suddenly run out of ideas.
Ardent said, “I understand your decision not to be photographed with the Yakutian delegate, captain. But you must understand that we can’t all choose our political bedfellows. Sometimes, they’re simply foisted on us and we have to make do as best we can.”
