“And you caught the men and women who were attempting to slip away from us,” she added. Her gaze suddenly sharpened and bore into my eyes. “How do you feel about that?”
I answered carefully, only to discover that it was only the first part of a searching interrogation covering everything from my early life at school to my shore leave. I worried at first if she knew anything about what I’d done on Earth, but as she wore on, I realised that even if she did know, she didn’t care. Jase and his friends were nothing to her, so far beneath her notice that she didn’t even know they existed. I could guess at her background. The odds were that she came from a family like Roger’s and had been born to her position.
“You’re going to fit in here well,” she concluded, finally. I hoped that she was wrong; the hints about the Devastator’s missions had been worrying enough, but I was stuck. The only purpose the ship seemed designed for was to bombard targets on the ground. “Do you like the media?”
“The media?” I asked, puzzled. “I haven’t had time to watch anything since I came onboard the ship.”
She smiled. The media spent most of its time pumping out programs intended to keep the lower classes tranquil, mainly boring stories about perfect people in perfect lives. The propaganda for the UNPF had at least been entertaining, although it had shied away from the suggestion that anything like violence might be involved somewhere. The remainder of the media had mainly carried stories about how great life was on the colonies under the UN… and how stupid a handful of rogue colonists were being in resisting the UN’s paternal oversight. I couldn’t say that I was a fan of the media. I’d hardly had the time to become a fan.
“We are going to be playing host to a number of reporters,” Ellen said, smiling openly for the first time. It was still rather disconcerting. “Among your other duties, you will play host to them and serve as their… first port of call. Give them whatever they want, within reason. They’re very important people.”
I felt cold even before she took me down to the airlock to introduce me. The reporters looked worse than we had done back when we had boarded the Jacques Delors. Two of them looked as if they were going to be sick, despite the artificial gravity, and the others looked worse. I could see the thoughts flickering through their heads; they had barely been on the ship a few seconds and they already couldn’t wait to get back to the ground.
“Welcome onboard the Devastator,” Ellen trilled, spreading her arms wide and accepting a kiss from a dark man who was so overweight that zero gravity would only have been an asset. Ellen sounded as if she were sucking up to them and, I realised suddenly, they were responding to it. Four men, three women…all reporters. I noticed that they’d dumped a collection of bags outside the airlock in the docking tube — a serious breech of regulations — and scowled inwardly. I’d have to get some crewmen to help me move their luggage to their cabins. “You’ve in the staterooms in Officer Country — John, if you’ll bring up the rear, please?”
She led them through the corridors and I was grateful that she’d put me at the rear. It was all I could do to avoid bursting out into laughter. Two of the girls — no, female reporters; reporters aren’t human — wore high heels and were clearly having problems walking on the deck. If they fell over, the dirty part of my mind commented, they would expose everything they had in those tight dresses. I saw crewmen turning to stare as they passed, with the more adroit among them concealing smiles. They knew, as I did, just how badly the reporters had prepared for their voyage. I wouldn’t have bet on them packing a spacesuit, even though regulations insisted that all passengers had to have their own pressure suits in case of emergencies. The four men weren’t much better. The fatty seemed to be having real problems manoeuvring his bulk through the passageways. Almost everyone who served on a starship was slim — exercise was also mandated by regulations — and the corridors hadn’t been designed for his bulk.
“Here you are,” Ellen said, finally, opening the hatch for them to enter the stateroom. I hadn’t realised that Devastator had so many crew quarters, although I suspected that the designers had probably had something else in mind. The cabins in the stateroom would have suited forty Cadets or Ensigns. I doubted that even an Admiral on a battleship would have such accommodation.
“It’s too small,” one of the women said. She had a nasal voice that made me detest her right from the start, a high-pitched whine that might have been more suited to a dog whistle. She hobbled around on her high heels, the better to glare at Ellen. “We were promised the best quarters on the ship.”
“There are the best quarters on the ship,” Ellen said. She didn’t look hassled in the slightest, despite staring into a face that showed the signs of too much cosmetic surgery. It might have looked good on the videos, but face to face it was appalling. “They were designed for an Admiral and his staff, more than suitable for you.”
She smiled at the men and I watched them melt under her smile. “And if you have any further questions, Lieutenant Walker will be glad to handle them,” she continued. My thoughts were unprintable. “I have to return to help the Captain make the final preparations to depart.”
I watched as she swept out, having thrown me to creatures that were worse than lions. “This is our manifesto,” one of the male reporters said, thrusting a sheet of paper into my hands. I was surprised that they didn’t use datapads, but perhaps reporters were exempt from the strict limits on how much paper people could use. It was a valuable resource, after all. “I expect that all of it will be here or I will be forced to talk to Admiral Hoover, a very dear friend of mine.”
“Certainly, sir,” I said. I actually suspected that Admiral Hoover had never heard of him, but I didn’t want to risk finding out the hard way. I scanned the sheet of paper quickly, shaking my head. It seemed that some of the reporters had supporting staff who would be travelling on a converted assault carrier, but some of their supplies were travelling with us. It was an odd list too, odder than some of the Captain’s requests; they had alcohol and hard drugs. “I’ll see to it at once, shall I?”
“And be back here quickly,” one of the women added. She gave me a smile that had absolutely no humour in it whatsoever. “We will have more tasks for you.”
I slipped outside and used my terminal to call the crewmen who were in the pool, waiting for someone to give them orders. I told them to pick up the luggage that the reporters had left out in the airlock and transport it to their quarters. I guessed that the reporters would be spending the entire trip stoned out of their minds. I just hoped they wouldn’t start selling it to the crew. Once I had finished issuing orders, I went back inside, only to discover that an argument was going on.
“The food on these ships is terrible,” another female reporter snapped. She wore a dress that showed off all of her breasts, apart from her nipples, but somehow I couldn’t find her attractive. “I want you to ensure that we get the best food from quality dealers.”
“I shall do my best,” I promised. Everyone on the ship, apart from the Captain, was supposed to eat in the mess with the rest of the crew. I’d have to check with Anna if the reporters were allowed to eat in their own stateroom. I couldn’t see the Captain agreeing, but it didn’t seem fair to expose the rest of the crew to the seven reporters and their endless complaints. “And…”