Dark Running (Fourth Fleet Irregulars Book 4) (69 page)

Alex looked up, astonished, and Jonas gave a self-conscious little smile.

‘We’ve cracked the algorithm,’ he confirmed. ‘There’s a back-file, if you want to confirm that the calculations are correct…’

That was evidently meant to be a joke, and Alex laughed. Jonas had been working for weeks, trying to figure out a way to crunch the massive complexity of their financial entanglements back to a clear, straightforward summary format. It wouldn’t actually solve the underlying problem, but it would be an enormous help in timesaving not just for Alex but for all the senior officers who had to wrestle with reports day in, day out.

‘No!’ Alex gave the file the required level of attention, signed it, and filed it in the log with a grin of pure delight. ‘
More
than happy to accept your summary, Mr Sartin,
thank
you!’ He held out his hand, and shook Jonas’s with warm commendation. ‘Please convey my appreciation to everyone involved.’

‘With pleasure,’ Jonas said, rather pink, by then, and abandoning the effort to maintain formal dignity, giving way to a huge grin. ‘Thank you, skipper.’

‘Thank
you
,’ Alex said again, and as Jonas departed walking noticeably taller, the skipper turned back to the strategic analysis.

He was interrupted again just a few minutes later, this time by Simon calling to tell him that they were moving Ali Jezno from the life support tank and into a bunk.

‘You can pop in and see him in about half an hour,’ Simon told him, and it was apparent that this was not a suggestion.

‘All right – thank you,’ Alex said, having long since abandoned any effort to get Simon to comply with Fleet protocols.

He went to sickbay, too, though there was little he could do in terms of visiting the patient, given that Ali was still unconscious. It was a very different experience, though, seeing him in a bunk after so many days seeing him twitching and dreaming in a life support tank. He had been settled on his side in a natural sleeping position, his eyes no longer flicking behind closed lids now that his brain wasn’t being bombarded with data input. He looked perfectly normal, asleep, not a scar or a mark on him to show the devastating extent of his injuries. Simon, as he would be the first to say, himself, did very good work.

‘We’ve done everything we can, now,’ Simon observed, standing with Alex at Ali’s bunk. And he meant just that, as Alex understood, that he had done absolutely everything possible to give Ali the best chance of recovery. ‘Brain scans confirm functioning capacity within normal range, and successful memory engramisation. We won’t know
what
he remembers, or his actual functional outcome, until he wakes up.’

He looked at Alex and it was clear that he had something particular to say. They were effectively in private, since Rangi was taking a break and Tina had already gone to bed, closing the privacy panel on her bunk so that she could watch a movie in peace.

‘Before he
does
wake up, though, we need to be clear,’ said Simon, in a manner which reminded Alex of the time he’d woken him at four in the morning ‘for a chat’. ‘I gather from Rangi that there’s some kind of Fleet policy about performance impaired casualties. I find it hard to believe, but he seems to be of the opinion that any significant memory or cognitive loss would mean Ali being discharged from Fleet service, just given a pension, ta very much, goodbye.’

He didn’t wait for an answer, but looked Alex straight in the eye. ‘You will
not
do that to Ali Jezno.’ He told the captain. ‘You’re his family, the only home he has, and you will stand by him, regardless of what his recovery outcome is. You will make a place for him, if not aboard ship, then at the base, for as long as he wants to stay with the Fourth. Right?’

Alex only just managed to stop himself answering, ‘Yes sir.’ Instead, he just nodded.

‘Good boy,’ said Simon.

Alex didn’t grin. He just looked at Ali, acutely aware of his own responsibility, in this. He knew he’d done the right thing. There was just no part of him even prepared to think that it might have been better to have let Ali Jezno die. All the same, he couldn’t help but be apprehensive about how much of Ali
would
be there, when he woke up.

‘Can I be here?’ he asked. ‘When he wakes up?’

Simon shook his head, decisively.

‘No – we’ll keep it very low impact,’ he said, and that was clearly a medical decision. ‘Quiet, dim lights, calm – we won’t tell him any more than that he’s been injured but he’s in recovery. Depending on his levels of awareness, we’ll be able to get some idea of how successful we’ve been, and I’ll let you know, then, when you can see him. He may be drowsy, drifting in and out for a while, but if things have gone as planned he should be recovered enough to talk by mid-morning. And if I know Ali, it won’t be long before he starts asking questions. I’ll fob him off for a while – people always ask what happened
way
before they’re recovered enough to really cope with the answer, so we’ll just say ‘head injury’ till we get to the point where he’s insisting on being told. So, do you want to do that, or shall I?’

‘Me?’ Alex was startled.

‘Well, you’re his next of kin, effectively,’ Simon pointed out. ‘And I think it may come better from you – I could, of course, just tell him myself that we’ve had to replace a third of his brain and he’s technically a zombie, but that’s high impact by any standards. He trusts you, and it may be less traumatic for him if that information comes from you, okay? Though I wouldn’t use the zed-word, if you can avoid it.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Alex said, without hesitation, though there was a wry look on his face as he looked back at Ali. ‘There was no module on how to tell people
that
, in command school.’

‘Well, at any time it feels hard,’ Simon said, ‘just consider whether you would rather be doing that, or conducting his funeral.’

Alex gave him a Look, and Simon grinned.

‘Yeah, I know, my bedside manner lacks a certain sensitivity, people are always telling me that. But I get results.’

‘Fair enough,’ Alex conceded, conscious that much the same might be said about him, with his lamentable performance in public relations. ‘But as you said, let’s be clear… before he wakes up.’ He had to look up into Simon’s eyes, as the medic was a good ten centimetres taller than he was, but he managed, through sheer force of personality, to make it seem as if they were eyeball to eyeball. ‘
Thank
you,’ he said, and held out his hand. ‘Whatever the outcome, I know, you have done everything humanly possible.’

‘Aww, shucks,’ said Simon, though he shook hands, and slapped Alex on the arm, then. ‘Go on, get out of here,’ he told him, pretty much pushing him towards the door. ‘I’ll tell you when you can come back.’

‘Thanks,’ said Alex, and with that, headed off to get some sleep himself.

Twenty Four

He was back on the command deck at four the next morning. He and Buzz were splitting nightwatch, as one or other of them was always on the command deck. They normally enjoyed opportunities to be together on nightwatch – time when they could work on projects undisturbed, play a companionable game of triplink, or just chat. This, though, was different – neither of them had the time for socialising and neither of them had had more than four hours sleep at a stretch for more than a month, now. Buzz didn’t linger, just gave him a friendly ‘Goodnight, dear boy,’ and headed off to his own bunk.

Alex exchanged a few pleasantries with the watch team. Very Vergan was holding the conn, with Teabreak Li as the junior officer of the watch. The ship was busier than was normal during nightwatch, though as the weeks went on it had actually become their new normal to be on standby alert day and night. All guns were manned and there were pilots and crews on the fighters, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. The Samartians were keeping guns and missiles targeted on them, they knew that, but their real fear here was that another Marfikian unit might come upon them. Gunny Norsten had worked out that the Marfikians could carry out a complete search or survey of the border zone in just under three weeks. They felt extremely exposed, sitting out there on the border, with a spike of anxiety every time a blip appeared on the edge of scopes. So far it had always been Samartians, but Marfikians could, indeed, turn up at any moment.

Alex thanked the rigger who brought him a mug of coffee, dark and spiced just as he liked it. Then he settled back to work.

He scarcely glanced up from screens for the next hour and a half, till a soft exclamation from Very Vergan made him lift his head quickly.

There were sounds of dismay coming from several others, too. Following the direction of their gaze, Alex saw that they were looking at the screen which showed deck five amidships… the area outside sickbay. Rangi Tekawa was there. And Rangi was crying. He had obviously stepped out of sickbay
to
cry, just standing there sobbing, fumbling helplessly for a tissue.

‘Oh, no…’ Alex’s own heart sank as he saw the medic’s distress. Others were already responding to it. Hali Burdon was Deck CPO tonight, responsible for supervising the nightwatch riggers and standby team. She was already swarming up through a ladderway, going to comfort Rangi. But even as he saw her approaching, Rangi made a tremendous effort to pull himself together.

‘It’s all right!’ He managed a shaky grin, and with that, looked directly at where he knew the camera was located, speaking directly to them on the command deck. ‘He’s awake! Ali’s awake!’ And then, with a quick gasp of breath, ‘And he said – he said…’ he gulped, getting himself together again as emotions threatened to overcome him, ‘I just had the weirdest dream!’’

Alex closed his eyes momentarily, feeling a wave of such intense relief and gratitude that tears welled up in his own eyes. Fleet training held, though, and he contained himself to a quiet sigh.

The rest of the crew were not nearly so reserved. There was a good deal of cheering, shouting, hugging and crying over the next several minutes, with Rangi at the centre of it. It was soon established that nobody could go and see Ali – he’d roused only briefly and had now gone back to sleep. But the fact that he
had
spoken settled one fear at least – he wasn’t going to be a shambling idiot.

Alex was kept informed of Ali’s progress through the day – they all were, as Simon posted updates on the notice board. The news that Ali was sitting up in bed having a cup of tea was greeted with delight. The news, half an hour later, that he was arguing with Rangi over whether he could get up to go to the lavatory made people laugh, and cheer, even applauding in their joy at the news.

As it turned 1100, though, all attention focussed on Martine Fishe as she took her place in the exosuite. She was wearing dress rig, that having been established as the protocol for formal diplomatic encounters. She looked smart in the high-collared tunic, but quite at her ease.

‘Is it wrong that this feels like the best fun I’ve ever had in my life?’ she asked Buzz, who’d gone with her to settle her in the encounter room. ‘I mean, obviously, don’t get me wrong, I
know
what’s at stake, I couldn’t be taking it any more seriously, but at the same time… should I be more nervous, Buzz? I don’t want to come at this over-confident.’

‘No, you’re fine,’ he assured her, resting a fatherly hand on her shoulder. ‘Treat it just like a media call.’

Martine grinned. The Diplomatic Corps had spotted a talent in her which even the Fourth hadn’t recognised, asking for her specifically to take on a difficult media-handling. Security had been breached and spacers at Karadon had realised that the Fourth had been outside League borders, with an immediate and well-informed understanding that they had almost certainly been out to an X-base, where they might well have met Solarans. In order to forestall rumours about what they might have done there, and just in case word
did
start to get around that the Fourth had an alien visitor aboard, the Diplomats had played what they called a ‘proactive subversion’ move. Martine had actually stood there in front of a room full of journalists and stated, on camera, that they had an ‘alien princess’ on board who at the time was on Karadon, shopping for shoes. It was absolutely true, but the tone in which she said it made it sound like a sarcastic answer to a stupid question – the journalists had yelled derisively and laughed, and nobody had taken any such rumours seriously, since.

Martine had undertaken quite a few other media conferences since then, acquiring a semi-official public relations role. She actually enjoyed it, taking on journalists with sporting enthusiasm.

‘Okay,’ she straightened herself up, glanced at her own image on a comms sub-screen to check that everything was as it should be, and nodded. ‘Bring on the penguins.’

That made perfect sense to Buzz – it was Buzz himself who’d taught her the technique of visualising journalists as squawking, flapping penguins in order not to be intimidated by them; a technique he’d trained everyone in the Fourth in, in fact, to help them deal with public barracking.