Fear God and Dread Naught (39 page)

“We’ll be fine,” Trodden said.

“And we’ll make any alien who pokes his nose through the tramline very sorry,” Yegorovich added.  “Just get reinforcements out here as quickly as possible.”

***

George felt drained as she stepped through the hatch to Middy Country, drained and tired and dirty as hell.  There hadn't been any showers on the planet’s surface; there had been no way to wash, save for a handful of wipes and odour-suppressors.  Her uniform was probably a lost cause - coming to think of it, she had no idea where it had gone!  Someone would probably make her write a report to account for its loss, she thought, rather morbidly.  They'd been required to explain any missing supplies back at the Academy.

She walked into the wardroom and sighed.  The soldiers were gone; Fraser, too, had packed up his possessions and left.  The sight gave her a pang, even though she couldn't blame Fraser for extracting himself from Middy Country as soon as possible.  He’d spent far too much time in the wardroom
before
his promotion.  She undressed rapidly, dropping the muddy clothes in the basket for disposal and hurried into the shower.   Thankfully, the XO had given her an extra water ration when he’d debriefed her, after she’d returned to the ship.

Stupid
, she thought, as warm water cascaded down her body.  She understood why there
was
a water ration, but it struck her as pointless elitism. 
It isn't as if any of us have time to waste in the shower
.

She still smelt unpleasant as she turned off the water and dried herself thoroughly, then glanced at herself in the mirror.  Her body was covered in bumps and bruises, but Kelly - when he’d examined her after the battle - had assured her that most of them would fade within the next few days.  There was certainly no permanent damage, he’d added.  He’d offered treatments, but she’d declined.  There were too many people who’d been seriously wounded during the battle.

And too many others who won’t come home at all
, she reminded herself. 
I was very lucky
.

A cool breeze struck her as she stepped out of the shower and opened her locker, retrieving her spare set of clothes.  No one had declared her dead, much to her relief.  The chocolate bars she’d saved from Anne’s care package were still there, waiting to be eaten.  She pulled her clothes on, then opened a bar of milk chocolate and munched on it gratefully.  After four weeks of combat rations, it tasted heavenly.

The hatch opened.  “Well, look who’s come home,” Potter said.  Paula was right behind him, her face impassive.  “Stellar Star herself!”

George blinked.  “
What
did you call me?”

“Stellar Star,” Potter said, again.  “You captured an entire
army
of aliens wearing nothing but your birthday suit!”

George coloured.  By now,
everyone
knew she’d walked her prisoners back to the garrison while stark naked.  There just hadn't been anything to wear!  The marines hadn’t given her a hard time over it, but several of the others she’d met while she was assisting at the spaceport had teased her.  She wasn't surprised, not really, that the story had already spread to orbit.  It was too good not to be told.

“And you disregarded regulations,” Potter added.  “
Just
like Stellar Star.”

“No doubt,” George snarled.  She would almost sooner have been accused of abusing her family connections.  “She has the fucking scriptwriter on her side.”

“And a uniform that’s two sizes too small,” Potter said.

“Shut up,” George said, sharply.

“I don’t think so,” Potter said, as Paula pushed past him and headed for her locker.  “I’m the First Middy now, George.  And I will
not
tolerate any more shenanigans.”

George gritted her teeth, fighting down the urge to either storm past him or hit him as hard as she could.  She’d made mistakes - she was honest enough to admit that she’d made mistakes - and none of the excuses she might have offered were good enough to save her from the consequences.  Everything she’d done on Unity would look good on her record, but would they look good
enough
? 

“You’ll do as I say from now on,” Potter added.  The amused arrogance in his voice made her see red.  She had distant relatives who sounded
precisely
like that.  “And ...”

George felt her temper snap.  Without thinking, she pulled back her fist and punched him in the nose, sending him crashing backwards to the floor.  Potter stared at her in numb disbelief, clearly shocked.  He hadn't thought she
could
fight, George realised.  Hadn't he heard about her fight with Fraser?  But then, she’d
lost
that fight.  Potter might have assumed that Fraser had beaten obedience into her.  She’d certainly never given him any trouble when he ran the wardroom.

I won some respect from Fraser
, George thought. 
And Potter never realised it
.

She stepped forward, ready to hit him again.  “I think you’ve just lost the wardroom,” she said, dryly.  She quirked her eyebrows, invitingly.  “Unless you want to go tell the XO that you got beaten up by one of your middies?”

Potter rubbed his nose.  It was bleeding, blood dripping from his nostrils and staining his white uniform.  George wondered, absently, if she’d broken it. 
That
would be difficult to explain, particularly when the doctor put it back together.  The doctor knew better than to ask awkward questions, but she might just raise the issue with the XO.  Potter ... would have to admit, to his superior, that he’d lost the wardroom.

And the XO will probably throw the lot of us out of the airlock
, George thought. 
He has to be running out of patience by now
.

“Fuck,” Potter said.  He glared at her, but made no move to get up.  “Paula, the wardroom is yours.”

“I think George should have it,” Paula said.  George glanced around.  There was a faint smile playing over Paula’s face.  “Congratulations, George.  You’re First Middy - again.”

“Thank you,” George said, suspiciously.  She couldn't avoid the feeling that she was being mocked.  “And now
that’s
settled, shall we at least
try
to get along?”

She helped Potter to his feet, keeping a sharp eye on him.  “I’m going to sleep for the next seven hours,” she added.  Sleeping in the same cabin as Potter was a risk, but she was damned if she was showing fear.  “And after that, we’ll redo the duty roster.”

“And start heading back to Earth,” Paula said.  The amusement hadn't vanished from her face.  “I’m sure it will be an interesting trip.”

George scowled.  She knew, all too well, what she'd have to do when she reached Earth.

“Yeah,” she said.  “
Interesting
.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

George rose to her feet - along with the rest of the spectators - as the court martial board filed back into the courtroom.  Admiral Soskice led the way, followed by Admiral Flanders, Commodore Richmond, Commodore Ashworth and Captain Summers.  She’d been nervous when she’d heard that Admiral Soskice had been assigned to head the panel - he was one of her uncle’s political enemies - but he’d been professionalism itself during the two days she’d testified before the board.  It hadn't really helped, not really.  She’d left each session with a pounding headache and the certainty that she would soon be joining Midshipman Clayton Henderson and Midshipwoman Felicity Wheeler in front of the court.  She was still surprised that she
hadn't
been arrested shortly after their return to Earth.

“Be seated,” Admiral Soskice ordered.

There was a long shuffling as the spectators took their seats.  George allowed herself a moment of relief that the media hadn’t been invited, although she’d been warned by her advisor that enough of the proceedings had leaked out to spark an intensive media campaign for answers.  The only good point, as far as she was concerned, was that her name hadn't been mentioned directly - at least, not yet.  She had no idea what Potter had said, when he’d been called to testify, but she had no doubt he would have tried hard to throw her under the bus.

She peered down towards the accused, sitting at the front of the chamber.  Henderson looked defiant, even though he
had
to know that the case against him was ironclad; Felicity looked scared, as if she couldn't quite believe what had happened to her.  George felt a flicker of sympathy, mixed with a flare of annoyance at the younger girl’s stupidity.  Air-headed bimbos were
never
interesting, certainly not when they had nothing resembling common sense.  Felicity, granted opportunities that were denied to the vast majority of the British population, had seen fit to throw them away for a chimera.  And to think it wouldn't have been hard to
check
Henderson’s claims ...

“The board did not require long to reach a verdict,” Soskice said.  His voice echoed in the chamber.  “Midshipman Clayton Henderson is found guilty of all of the charges levelled against him, including smuggling proscribed substances onboard HMS
Vanguard
, gross dereliction of duty and attempting to cover up said dereliction of duty.  His actions posed a serious threat to the battleship’s operational health, all the more so as Henderson was aware that
Vanguard
was expected to encounter and engage the enemy.

“We do not feel that this was deliberate treason.  There is no evidence that Henderson was in the pay of any foreign power or non-governmental organisation, nor is there any evidence that he saw himself as a lone wolf operator.  However, his actions may well have been inadvertently treasonous as
Vanguard
was going to war.”

George saw Henderson pale.  A charge of treason - even inadvertent treason - would be enough to get him hung.  And yet, what he’d done
was
treasonous.  Making the mistake was bad enough, but trying to cover it up was worse.  Far worse.

“We acknowledge that the graduating class at the Academy was pushed forward to meet the anticipated demands of the war,” Soskice continued.  “However, all cadets were taught the importance of maintaining starships, the importance of keeping
accurate
records and the dangers of any sort of mood-altering drug.  Henderson was not, at any point,
forced
to take the drugs.  Indeed, his addiction could have been cured if he’d approached the doctor - a private medical clinic would have sufficed for the purpose, if necessary.  The claim that Henderson cannot be blamed for poor decision-making while under the influence does not hold water.  Choosing to take the drug, in and of itself, was a very poor decision.

“Furthermore, the lies Henderson told - to his fellow cadets and later to his fellow midshipmen - undermined the integrity of the Royal Navy.  We want - we
need
- to believe that our officers and men are honest fellows, men and women of the highest integrity.  To lie - to lie in a manner most shameful - cannot fail to cast the reputation of the navy into doubt.”

There was a long chilling pause.

“A plea for mercy on account of Henderson’s youth was entered by the defence,” Soskice said.  “We do not find the plea convincing.  Four years at the Academy should have taught Henderson the difference between right and wrong.  However, as many people who have made significant mistakes have gone on to lead successful lives, we offer Midshipman Henderson a choice.  He may spend the next ten years in Colchester Military Detention Centre, if he wishes, or be summarily exiled to a stage-one colony world as a Conscripted Immigrant.  In both cases, he will have the chance to make a new life after he has served his time.

“If he doesn't give us an answer by the end of the day, it will be Colchester.”

George winced, despite everything Henderson had done.  Either way, his life as he knew it was over.

“The case of Midshipwoman Felicity Wheeler was more complex,” Soskice said, after a long moment.  “There is no question that she made a dangerous mistake by believing Midshipman Henderson’s lies.  He chose to seduce her - professionally if not sexually - and she chose to believe him.  It would have made no difference if Henderson was truly the aristocrat he claimed to be.  His actions were against military law and naval regulations and, by supporting him, Midshipwoman Wheeler broke the regulations herself.

“It is never easy to know when one should report a comrade, perhaps a friend, to higher authority,” Soskice admitted.  “We look poorly on
sneaks
even when the sneak is actually in the right.  And once someone has made that first fatal decision, it’s easy to make the next decision and the next.  We acknowledge that Midshipwoman Wheeler was caught in a tissue of lies and deceptions that left her unsure which way to turn.  But we cannot condone her actions.”

George braced herself.  Whatever was coming, she knew, wasn't going to be pleasant.

“Midshipwoman Wheeler is hereby dishonourably discharged from the Royal Navy,” Soskice said.  “She will be entitled to pay up until today, as she was more than willing to cooperate to untangle Henderson’s web of lies, but nothing else.  However, we are prepared to fund her emigration to a colony world, if she wishes it.  Emigration may give her a chance to build a whole new life.”

Felicity started to cry.  George felt another stab of sympathy, even though she couldn't help feeling that Felicity had gotten off lightly.  A dishonourable discharge would look very bad on her record, but she wouldn't be spending time in jail ...
and
she had the skills to make something of her life, if she wished to try.  And going to a whole new world would give her the chance to start afresh ...

“This is an uncomfortable chapter in the navy’s long history,” Soskice concluded, as a pair of marines removed the prisoners.  “But we feel that it can now be closed.  The court is adjourned.”

George sagged, slightly, as the spectators began to clear the room.  If the court was now adjourned, did that mean that she was free and clear?  Or did it mean that the board had decided that her services on Unity cancelled out her failings?  Or ...

She felt a tap on her shoulder and glanced up.  Lieutenant Johnston was standing there.

“Midshipwoman,” he said, as George hastily stood and saluted.  “Admiral Fitzwilliam would like to see you in his office.”

“Yes, sir,” George said.  She suppressed a groan with an effort.  Her uncle could have waited, couldn't he?  A meeting on the estate would have caused far less comment.  But he
was
the First Space Lord, after all, and Britain was at war.  He might not have
time
to visit the estate before she returned to duty.  “I’ll see him there at once.”

She made her way through the network of corridors until she reached her uncle’s office.  The marines at the hatch waved her through without comment, something that suggested - very strongly - that her uncle had ordered them to let her through without any security checks.  She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or outraged.  Nelson Base was an orbital fortress, one of the most secure locations in the world, but there was a
lot
of traffic passing through.  A spy might just manage to get through the checkpoints because everyone
knew
it was supposed to be impossible.

“Admiral,” she said, as she stepped through the secondary hatch.  “Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam, reporting as ordered.”

Her uncle studied her for a long moment as the hatch rolled closed.  “George,” he said, shortly.  “Stand at ease.”

George relaxed, slightly.  This was the man who’d put her on her first pony, the man who’d first inspired her to join the navy, but he was also her superior officer.  She knew, all too well, that he wouldn't go lightly on her, just because she was his brother’s daughter.  He couldn't afford to show any
hint
of nepotism when the country was at war.  The Old Boys Network was only tolerated as long as it produced results.

Or a complete absence of disasters
, George thought. 
We’ve had too many problems caused by inbred idiots promoted above their competence.

“It was an interesting trial,” her uncle said, after a moment.  “It could have been much worse.”

“Yes, sir,” George said.

“You
did
fuck up,” her uncle added.  He pointed a long finger at her.  “You do understand that, don’t you?”

George nodded, slowly.  There was no way to avoid it.  She'd mismanaged all four of her middies, saving - perhaps - Paula.  Henderson and Felicity had been put in front of a court martial, while Potter had sullenly tolerated her authority over the two months it had taken to crawl home.  She wasn't responsible for their actions, but she
was
their superior officer.  Her first taste of command had been a near disaster.

“Yes, sir,” she said.  She didn't bother with excuses.  They’d never impressed her uncle - or her father - in the past, even when she’d been a little girl.  “I made a whole string of mistakes.”

“Yes,” her uncle said.  “The board
did
look at your conduct” - George stiffened - “and considered filing formal charges against you.  However, it was decided that your willingness to bite the bullet and report the matter to Commander Mason, even at the cost of your own career, made up for certain lapses in judgement.  It was
also
pointed out that you had a raw deal: four new midshipmen, two without any shipboard experience.  You didn't have the time to handle everything.”

George said nothing.  She rather suspected her uncle had already made up his mind.

“There’s also the matter of your conduct on Unity itself,” her uncle added.  “You saved a number of marines from certain death when your shuttle went down, then you fought beside the resistance and eventually captured a number of alien soldiers.  There may be some slight ...
questions
... about the exact circumstances of the latter, but both the marines and the xenospecialists have recommended you for commendations.  You may not get them, but you will have that on your record.”

“At least the media didn't get the full story,” George muttered.

“Quite,” her uncle said.  “But don’t count on that lasting.”

George nodded.  Most of the reporters assigned to the task force had been on
New York
when she’d been destroyed, but she had no doubt that some of the crew would talk to the media as soon as they went on leave, if they hadn't already.  She was mildly surprised that she hadn't been forced to read a headline reading
NAKED ARISTOCRAT CAPTURES ALIEN STORMTROOPERS
.  Aliens, nudity, aristocracy, violence ... what more did the tabloids want?  She just hoped there hadn't been a camera recording the scene.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, then looked up at her uncle.  “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her uncle shrugged.  “Do you think I exert any influence over promotions boards?”

“You’re the First Space Lord,” George pointed out.  “You must have
some
idea.  A crawler on the board might already have decided to toady to you.”