Venturi Page 9

  ‘There are certain things,’ he said, ‘which we believe we know – things which we consider to be facts beyond doubt or question. In many ways they form part of our sense of identity as members of the Fleet and as citizens of the League.’ He looked particularly at Davie as he said that. ‘The facts, as we see them, are these…’ he pulled up a simple note screen and wrote bullet points as he spoke. ‘One, the Marfikians are psychotic cyborgs whose only creed is that the strong conquer the weak. On that basis we believe that they will attack any world they believe they can conquer and that only maintaining massive deterrent and defences keeps them behind the border. Yes?’

  ‘Obviously,’ Eldovan looked puzzled and the other two gave equally emphatic assent.

  ‘Two,’ said Alex, ‘The League-Marfik border was established by us, defined by us as the line we drew and have been standing strong to defend ever since. Everything we do, everything we are, the League’s geography, our sense of territorial identity, our defence programme, basically the history of the Fleet over the last eight hundred years, is all rooted in that absolute belief that we are defending that border against a rabid invader only held off by ever-increasing strength.’

  Nods all round. Buzz and Eldovan had signed up to Fleet service in the knowledge that this might well mean defending their worlds against Marfikian attack, with that threat of invasion hanging over the League like an ever-present but rarely acknowledged nightmare. Davie’s family had been pouring resources into League defences, too, on the same basis. The very ship they were on was Davie’s own contribution to strengthening the League’s defences and keeping the threat of invasion at bay.

  ‘Three,’ Alex said, ‘We take it as read, completely obvious, that the Marfikians cannot be reasoned with or even communicated with. We all know how it goes. They arrive, they give orders. If the orders are obeyed, they leave. If the orders are not obeyed they fire missiles at cities until they are obeyed. Nobody has ever seen a Marfikian in person. They have never responded to any attempts at communication. We do not even know if there are actual Marfikians aboard their ships at all. But we do know, or believe we know, that there is no point even attempting to communicate with them, right?’

  Again, nods.

  ‘And Shion thinks otherwise, dear boy?’ Buzz was trying to be open minded, but he’d been in Fleet service for more than fifty years and it was hard to even think about questioning things he’d believed as facts for all that time.

  ‘Yes,’ Alex said. ‘Oh, yes.’ He took a breath. ‘Supposing,’ he said, ‘just hypothetically for a moment, but supposing that we were as wrong about our view of that situation as the Samartians were in their belief that all life forms are inherently inimical? I know it’s hard, but just for a moment, try to suspend everything you believe about the Marfikians and consider this as an academic hypothesis. Suppose – just suppose – that the Marfikians are not actually rabid or power-crazed but acting on what they consider to be valid reclaiming of what was, historically, before humans colonised it, their own territorial space. Suppose it wasn’t us who defined where that border is, but them. And suppose that they are not, as we have always believed, on any agenda to invade our worlds but on the contrary attempting to defend their territory against our incursions.’

  He didn’t get any further than that. Davie had drawn in a sharp breath and was looking at Alex as if he’d just produced the most disgusting stink imaginable, while Eldovan’s jaw had dropped and Buzz was looking as pained as if Alex had just trodden heavily on an already sore toe.

  ‘You cannot,’ said Davie, in a very tight voice, ‘even be suggesting that we consider…’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Eldovan was so stunned, she was oblivious to the fact that Davie was speaking. ‘That everything the Fleet has done – all those people who’ve served at the frontier, all those people who’ve died… that all that was…’

  ‘Alex…’ Buzz spoke very gently, but Alex could see the way his hands were gripped together on the table before him. ‘That is an appalling suggestion.’

  ‘It is,’ Alex acknowledged. ‘Nevertheless, I have to ask you to consider it.’

  It took him two hours to talk them through it and there were many points at which a glass of whisky might well have been welcomed. But they held it together; managing to hear him out with no more than a reasonable amount of protest, disbelief and outrage.

  ‘I feel,’ Davie said, ‘physically sick.’

  Alex nodded sympathetically. He had ensured that there was plenty of food to keep Davie going through what might potentially become a long meeting and Davie had just consumed enough sandwiches to cater for a hungry sports team. His nausea, however, had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that generations of the Founding Families had poured resources into warship and weapons R&D which Alex had just told him was not only unnecessary but counter-productive.

  ‘They call it the Big Bad for a reason,’ the commodore observed and looked at Buzz. The exec was looking troubled, but he had his emotions under control.

  ‘Ordinarily, dear boy,’ he pointed out, ‘a Fleet officer even suggesting that the enemy might have some historical right on their side would be considered treasonous.’

  ‘I know it,’ Alex acknowledged. ‘And I was, believe me, extremely resistant to the idea, myself. But the more you think about it, the more it makes a terrible kind of sense of things we have not been able to make sense of other than by defining the Marfikians as rabid and beyond reason, beyond understanding. And we see that, in a different context, with the quarians, too.’ He smiled at their sudden, shocked looks. ‘One of the reasons communication with the quarians has been so difficult,’ he pointed out, ‘was that they are in the habit of defining anything they don’t understand about us as one, insane and two, beyond understanding. That is not a helpful attitude because it means you stop even trying to understand. And we, well, we stopped trying to understand the Marfikians centuries ago and have so entrenched our beliefs that even attempting to consider alternative possibilities is profoundly disturbing. But there it is; that is the alternative perspective which Shion laid out and whether you accept it or not, that is also the report which she sent back to Pirrell, explaining the situation out here from her point of view and asking for their help in attempting to resolve it. Shion herself thought that it might be decades before they decided on what, if any, response to make. But they have evidently decided already.’

  ‘Ah.’ A flicker of enlightenment crossed Eldovan’s face. ‘That’s why you agreed so fast,’ she observed and Alex nodded.

  ‘There have been,’ he confirmed, ‘very high level discussions about this. And the decision which was made – in principle – is that if the Pirrellothians do decide to send out an ambassador we – the League – will do everything in our power to support them. So that was not a decision I had to think about, no.’

  ‘Oh, lord…’ Buzz was coming to an understanding of the situation, too and was gazing at Alex in horror. ‘But that means Lady Ursele’s mission is not simply to address issues of conflict within the worlds under Marfikian domination – she’s actually going to try to resolve the entire situation?’

  ‘Not by herself, obviously,’ Alex said. ‘But that is the big-picture view, yes, that the Pirrellothians want to create an alliance between the occupied worlds in order to, ultimately, address the situation with Marfik. Which will necessitate, at some stage, entering into meaningful communication with them.’

  He paused and there was absolute silence as they all stared at him in blank disbelief.

  ‘Our role,’ he went on, ‘is simply to support Lady Ursele in establishing her embassy at Lundane. But we can’t do that – not effectively anyway – unless we are acting from a basis of full knowledge and understanding as to why she is here, what she is doing and what she is working towards.’

  ‘And when you say we, in that context…’ Eldovan gestured around at the four of them and looked questioningly at him, which Alex understoo
d was asking him if it was just the people in that room who were to be made aware of the wider scenario.

  ‘I mean everybody, of course,’ said Alex, calmly. ‘Every member of the crew.’

  There was another moment of total silence.

  ‘You don’t feel,’ Eldovan ventured carefully, ‘that this might be a situation in which it is justified to keep these aspects of the mission from the crew? If this is a strictly need-to-know disclosure, do they need to know?’

  ‘In my opinion, yes,’ said Alex, in a tone which while perfectly pleasant made it clear that he was not going to be budged on this. ‘And for several good reasons. The first is that the Fourth’s operational policy is and always has been that we work on the basis of fully informed, inclusive teamwork and I’m not about to back off from that, on principle. The second is that if you could go around and ask every member of the ship’s company individually whether they would prefer to work in ignorance of what’s really going on or be told something they will find challenging and upsetting, I have no doubt that the response would be a hundred per cent in favour of being told what they’re involved in, however challenging that may be.’

  He paused for a moment and all three assented, though Eldovan still looked a little dubious.

  ‘But the secrecy issue…’ she observed, delicately.

  ‘This will not remain a secret,’ Alex replied. ‘It can’t. Part of the process will have to be opening people’s minds to this, because at some point there will have to be an open debate, discussions, decisions, involving all relevant parties. Which is my third reason for opening up about it here. We need to find ways to explain this so that people don’t react emotively and simply reject it out of hand. So if we can start with the Fourth, to get everyone to understand it – I don’t mean accept it, but just understand the hypothesis and what possibilities it opens up – then that gives us some basis for moving forward when we start having to explain it to civilians.’ A wry smile touched his face. ‘We have,’ he observed, ‘to come up with some kind of phased disclosure.’

  ‘Ah.’ Buzz actually looked relieved, at that, recognising something practical that he could do in contending with these huge, upsetting ideas. ‘Well, we can do that at least, dear boy.’

  ‘I cannot,’ said Davie, with a heavy note, ‘imagine any way to explain this to Papa without him either going into trauma or believing that I have lost my mind. I mean…’ he switched suddenly into a bright and breezy manner, role-playing, ‘Hey, Papa, you know those evil cyborgs our families have been protecting the League from for the best part of a millennium? Turns out they were never any threat to our worlds in the first place. Turns out, in fact, we were the ones who invaded them. How’s that for a laugh?’

  ‘I think perhaps we may need to be a little more sensitive than that, dear boy,’ said Buzz, with a little grin to show that he understood that Davie was being ironic.

  ‘A lot more sensitive,’ Eldovan interposed. ‘Particularly when speaking to a Fleet audience well aware of how many members of the Fleet have fought and died on that border.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Alex and called up the kind of screen used for co-operative planning. ‘So…’ he said and as they all sat forward then, looking focussed, he took a moment just to appreciate the sense of unity between them. This was not going to be easy, not by any means. But he had, here, the best team he could possibly have asked for.

  ‘Let’s get to it,’ he said and reached for a pen.

  Seven

  The next day, when Trilopharus appeared, Alex asked straight away how they were to get to Pirrell and what arrangements there would be for picking up Shion’s aunt without breaching quarantine.

  ‘Oh, we’ll pop you over there, no worries,’ said Trilopharus. ‘And we can use a…’ they hesitated. ‘Let’s call it a shuttle. A vehicle, anyway, that we can use to get Lady Ursele out to you. She’ll need to be brought into quarantine and fitted with an immune system, is that right?’

  ‘We can do that,’ Alex confirmed.

  ‘Sounds ghastly,’ Trilopharus observed. ‘You’re never going to get any of us doing that, Alex. We don’t leave our world, anyway – not physically.’

  ‘Oh!’ Alex exclaimed. ‘Then you visit Gide and Pirrell and other worlds – in projection?’

  ‘Of course!’ Trilopharus laughed. ‘And many, many others – sometimes several worlds at once. We are a very chatty, sociable people! Lots of friends!’ They regarded Alex with satisfaction. ‘And you too, now. We started going to Pirrell, in fact, after you made contact with the Gider. We were keen to meet you too but the Gider said your people on the Embassy were so freaked out already it was probably best to give it a while before we turned up too. The Perithin told us that Pirrell is a good place to start – and they’re right, too, lovely people there; the Perithin introduced us.’

  ‘Then when the Perithin stopped coming…’ Alex realised.

  ‘The Karlane asked us to help,’ Trilopharus confirmed. ‘We told her the Perithin, even when they come back, would not involve themselves in such a matter and they certainly won’t now after what happened at Carrearranis. So they asked if we could help get an ambassador to Lundane. We can get them out through the Veil, as you call it, but we can’t take them to Lundane ourselves. The Gider said you’d be the people to ask.’ Arms spread wide, wings of light soared and swooped around the command deck, ‘So we came to find you.’

  And he, Alex remembered, had said oh, not now and turned over in bed. And even after the invitation and coordinates had been given, it had been eight months before the Senate even made their minds up to send them. And another five months getting the Venturi operational and hauling out the long way via Cestus and Serenity.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ Alex said. ‘Please tell Her Serenity that…’

  ‘You apologise too much,’ Trilopharus interposed and advised, kindly, ‘You need to stop doing that, Alex. You came when you could, you’re willing to help, it’s all good, no worries.’

  ‘All right,’ Alex said, grinning. ‘So – when do you want us to be ready? And how many people will there be, besides Her Grace?’

  ‘You tell us when you’re ready,’ Trilopharus responded. ‘And the Karlane says…’ a slight pause, ‘eighteen.’

  ‘Are you talking to Her Serenity right now?’ Shion had been holding back, but she couldn’t contain herself at that realisation.

  ‘Yes, I’m there and here,’ Trilopharus said. ‘But can we please, please not do the ‘please tell her this’ and ‘please tell them that.’ They sounded pained. ‘There is an etiquette, you know.’

  It might be incomprehensible, but it was evidently important, insulting in some way to ask Trilopharus to convey messages back and forth like that.

  ‘I’m…’ Alex was about to apologise and stopped himself. ‘Thank you.’ he said. ‘Thank you, Trilopharus.’

  ‘Pleasure,’ said Trilopharus and still in the same conversational tone, ‘We would stop the Marek ourselves if we could. What they have become is an abomination. We can’t interfere. But what little help we are able to give in resolving that for yourselves, is yours.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alex said, with profound gratitude. Neither the Solarans nor the Gider had been willing to offer any assistance whatsoever in the nightmare of dealing with Marfik. All the Solarans would do, as they said themselves, even if they saw Marfik destroying cities on the planets under their subjugation, was grieve for them. And all the Gider would say was that it was too complicated, with some reference to ‘issues’ as well as rules, apparently set or at least shared by a wider community, with which they were bound to comply. The Chethari, evidently, were prepared to be more actively involved, at least as far as they could within the limits of those rules. They were making it possible for the Pirrellothians to send an ambassador out to Lundane and that was no small thing.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, thank you!’ Trilopharus’s manner was teasing, a flourishing hand that was half wave, but sketching towards a salute. ‘Bye, Alex
!’

  It was later that day, with all the preparations for it thoroughly rehearsed, that the Artefact excavation was begun.

  The fears Mister LIA had had that the Fourth would simply blast out a big hole to find out what it was were, of course, unfounded. The excavation deployed a piece of kit which Excorps had given them and trained them in for just such an eventuality.

  The officer they’d trained specifically to operate the drill was the ship’s geologist – an unusual skill to find on a starship but one which Alex had come to value so highly that he’d funded that officer going to university to get a geosciences post-grad diploma.

  Lt Singh, therefore, was Ops Comm, the operational commander for the project, senior officers and even Davie taking a back seat as the Lt controlled the Pristine Environment Subterranean Probe DZ-424, otherwise known to Excorps as the Holy Moley. It was, after all, a mole designed for the holy grail of exploration, the investigation of potential alien artefacts.

  This particular Holy Moley, in accordance with Excorps tradition, had been named before it was sent out on its inaugural mission. Which was not, in fact, this one. Lt Singh had put it through a test run during one of their many first-footing expeditions, an exercise in which others had hidden an artefact and he’d had to find and investigate it. It had been an entirely routine, trivial kit-test, but it had been ‘first time out of the box’ and so had got the Holy Moley its moniker.

  ‘Jim is on the ground,’ The Lt reported, when the probe had been delivered to the point of entry.

  And there it stayed, for the next two days, assessing the situation.

  Life aboard ship, meanwhile, had switched into a new focus. The announcement that they were going to Pirrell and would be taking Shion’s aunt to Lundane had delighted and terrified the crew in about equal measure, but it wasn’t very long before they started coming round to the idea. This, after all, as Alex had observed, was the point of their training, the startle training they did on the Venturi as a routine part of shipboard drills. It might appear frivolous, did appear frivolous to those who didn’t understand the purpose of the wild and crazy things the Fourth threw into drills, but the more bonkers it was, really, the more the crew grew accustomed to coping with the unexpected, however bizarre.