Fear God and Dread Naught (7 page)

“You know as well as I do that competition for promotion is intense,” Fraser added, after a long moment.  “And you do
not
have the advantage of spending two years in uniform, gaining experience before you take on true responsibility.  Two of your subordinates are well-positioned to take advantage of any problems you have, while the other two are unlikely to see you as a superior officer.  You must take control right from the start and if that means acting like a bitch, you act like a bitch.”

“Yes, sir,” George said.  “And the second piece of advice?”

“Be tough, be firm ... but also be fair,” Fraser said.  “Yes, you will have to chew them out when they screw up - and they will.  But you will also have to realise that not every screw-up is the result of malice or stupidity.  You don’t need them to like you, let alone to love you, but you do need them to
trust
you.  They won’t come to you with their problems if they feel they cannot trust you to actually
listen
to them.”

He paused.  “And one other piece of advice?”

George nodded, wordlessly.

“Two of them are young women, one a couple of years older than you, the other a year younger,” Fraser noted.  “
Don’t
allow them to suck you into a female clique.  You are their superior officer and you cannot run the risk of allowing cliques to form, certainly not along those lines.  It would be disastrous.”

“Yes, sir,” George said.

Fraser took a breath.  “If you need advice, you can come to me,” he said.  “I also expect you to find time to continue your physical training with me.  Let me know when you are available.”

George nodded.  Fraser was a slave-driver, but he knew his stuff.  And she’d grown under his tuition.  She'd never be a martial artist, not like him, but she knew enough to take care of herself.  And her shooting was getting much - much  - better.

You’re still getting outpointed by the marines
, her thoughts reminded her. 
Don’t get cocky
.

She pushed the thought aside as Fraser dismissed her, then made her way back to Middy Country.  It felt eerily empty, as if she was the only person on the ship; the lockers had been emptied and the beds had been stripped, leaving her the only occupant.  A large care package, addressed to her, sat on the deck.  She sighed, recognising the return address.  Her sister’s heart was in the right place, but she had no idea just what it was like to serve on a warship - or just how embarrassing it had been to receive a piece of naughty underwear that wouldn't have been out of place in a brothel.  None of the others had ever let her forget it.

I have to write to Anne
, she reminded herself as she tore open the box. 
Someone
must have had a word with her - probably their uncle - because she’d crammed the box with chocolate bars, rather than anything more awkward.  There was still rather more of it than she would have preferred, she decided, but it was certainly more practical. 
I’ll have to thank her
.

She put a chocolate bar aside for later consumption - she could afford to eat one, she told herself - and then stowed the others in the locker.  She'd have to share them with the other middies - and she should probably give a few to Fraser and the other officers - once they got accustomed to serving on a battleship.  It would be awkward - chocolate bars were traded at two or three times market value once the ship was underway - but better than keeping the chocolate all for herself.  A piece of paper fell out of the box as she finished emptying it and dropped onto the deck.  Her sister was expressing - again - her hope that George would find a handsome man and come home.

George crumpled up the paper, feeling a flicker of angry frustration.  Anne should never have gone to that damned Swiss finishing school, not after leaving Hanover Towers.  She wasn't precisely stupid, but the finishing school was more concerned with moulding young girls into perfect little ladies instead of developing their minds.  Anne looked stunning in a long blue dress - George knew that hardly anyone considered
her
a true lady - but she was
very
good at giving the impression that she had nothing between her ears.  And there were times when George had been inclined to believe that Anne was truly stupid.  Maybe she’d bribed the tutors to give her the answers before entering the examination chambers.

She’s your sister
, she reminded herself, as she checked the duty roster.  Unsurprisingly, the shipboard management program hadn't realised she’d come back from leave a day early.  She had no assigned tasks until the other midshipmen arrived, the following day. 
And she’s trying to be helpful
.

But she isn't being helpful
, her own thoughts answered.  The chocolate was a more practical gift than underwear, but it would still cause her problems. 
And all she’s doing is driving me mad
.

She pushed the thought out of her mind and undressed, enjoying the privacy for the final time.  Thankfully, there were no water rations in spacedock; she stepped into the shower, luxuriated under the warm stream for ten minutes and then dried herself, checking her appearance in the mirror.  Her hair had grown out, a little, but she didn't need to have it hacked back to the roots
just
yet.  Anne would probably have a heart attack if someone had suggested chopping off her blonde locks and wearing an ill-fitting uniform.  And she would probably react badly if she knew what George had been doing with Peter Barton.  No doubt she’d be disgusted at the thought of kissing someone worth less than five hundred thousand or so a year.

Forget him
, she told herself firmly.  She climbed into the bunk, feeling oddly cold and alone as she clicked off the light.  She’d grown too used to falling asleep in his arms after two or three rounds of lovemaking. 
Enjoy the peace.  Tomorrow is going to be a very different day
.

Chapter Seven

“Welcome back, Your Excellency,” Captain Susan Onarina said.  “I trust you had a pleasant flight?”

“It could have been worse, Captain,” Henry said.  “And please allow me, Captain, to offer my congratulations for your promotion.  It was very well deserved.”

He studied Susan with interest as a small team of crewmen materialised from nowhere to help his staff move their equipment and supplies down to their quarters.  She was darker than he remembered, although there was an odd pallor to her skin that probably came with too little sleep - and a great deal of stress.  Her dark hair was tied up in a bun - he was mildly surprised she hadn't cut it short, unlike many other crewmen - and she wore her uniform very well.  Thankfully, she'd honoured his request for a complete lack of actual ceremony.

“Thank you,” Susan said.  She sounded tired too.  According to the briefing notes, she’d only been back on her ship for two days.  “If you would care to accompany me to my cabin, Your Excellency ...”

Henry nodded and followed her, wondering if she knew he’d gone to bat for her.  The First Space Lord was unlikely to mention it to anyone, but she didn't have many other friends in high places.  Captain Blake’s resignation might have taken the wind out of her enemies’ sails, yet they were still formidable - and very well connected.  Henry just hoped she could build up a reputation - and contacts of her own to offset the balance - before they rallied and found another way to harm her career.  And he was sure she would.

There’s nothing small-minded people hate more
, he thought morbidly,
than having their arses saved by someone who doesn't even care to lord it over them
.

“I have several datachips for you,” he said, as soon as they were in her cabin.  She’d hung a portrait of a smiling couple - a black man and a white woman - on one of the bulkheads, but the remainder of the compartment was remarkably bare.  Given how much expensive crap Captain Blake had somehow stuffed into his quarters, he couldn’t help finding it something of a relief.  “And the latest from the front too.”

“That’s something, at least,” Susan said.  She motioned for him to sit on the sofa as she poured them both a glass of shipboard rotgut.  Henry wondered, absently, if the choice of alcohol was a backhanded compliment or a subtle insult.  Probably the former, he decided;  Captain Susan Onarina didn't have a nasty bone in her body.  “We’re due to depart in two days.”

Henry nodded in agreement.  “My team and I will do our best to stay out of your way,” he said, as he took the glass and sniffed it carefully.  Shipboard rotgut ranged from remarkably smooth to a guaranteed choking fit, if one drank hastily.  “And I trust the same will be true of the other additions.”

Susan snorted.  “We’re taking on nearly a thousand soldiers,” she said.  She sounded annoyed, although he was relieved to note she didn't sound bitter.  “And we’re having to bed them in the corridors, because we don’t have anything like enough bunks for all of them.  Do you know how many things could go wrong?”

“Yes,” Henry said.  He’d argued against it - the soldiers could have been sent on military transports - but the brass had been adamant.  Britain needed to make it clear that it was making a major commitment to the campaign, now the politicians had finally realised that the country - and the world - was at war.  “It won’t make your voyage any easier, even if things go according to plan.”

Susan gave him a droll look.  “And when have things
ever
gone according to plan?”

She shook her head.  “Do you have any idea where we’re even
going
?”

“Unity,” Henry said.  He watched her closely, wondering just how much she'd already guessed, but her dark face betrayed nothing.  “Admiral Harper is expected to take a multinational task force to reinforce the defences, with
Vanguard
as one of his ships.”

“At least I know him,” Susan said.  She smiled, rather sardonically.  “I would have thought he never wanted to see me again.”

“He recommended you for the Navy Cross,” Henry told her.  “Politics may impede you actually receiving it, Captain, but his citation makes impressive reading.”

He sighed, inwardly.  The First Space Lord might hope that parts of the story - or at least the embarrassing parts - could be buried, but Henry knew too much to expect the cover-up to endure indefinitely.  The story was really too good to be left untold.  Thankfully, very few people knew the full story - and most of them had been warned to keep their mouths shut - but rumours were already leaking out.  He could only hope that no one would put the full story together until
Vanguard
was already on her way to Unity.

Susan smiled for the first time since he’d boarded her ship.  “So he doesn't bear a grudge?”

“He’d have some problems explaining to his superiors why he did, given that you saved the fleet,” Henry reminded her.  “And he’s honest enough to admit that you
did
save the fleet.”

“That’s good,” Susan said.  She took another sip of her drink.  “So ... what are the mission orders?”

Henry took a moment to organise his thoughts.  “Intelligence believes - everything they know is two months out of date, unfortunately - that our new enemies are going to launch a major offensive towards Unity,” he said.  “Given that they
do
seem to be restricted to standard tramlines, it does seem to be their best option ... assuming, of course, that they managed to capture a database from one of the disabled starships.”

He scowled at the thought.  Hundreds of analysts had gone over the recordings of the battle with a fine-toothed comb, but - in the end - none of them had been prepared to say, with complete certainty, that
no
databases had fallen into enemy hands.  In theory, every database was supposed to be rigged to automatically wipe itself and then self-destruct, if the ship was too badly damaged to escape the enemy, but in practice ... he knew, all too well, just how much could go wrong.  And while naval crews knew better than to carry private computers and databases with them, one of the civilians might have done just that. 

And a portable encyclopaedia would be enough to point them to Sol
, he thought. 
And they’re designed for children
.

“And that they won’t duplicate the improved Puller Drive for themselves,” Susan mused, thoughtfully.  “That would give them a whole host of options.”

“Intelligence is unable to give us any timetable on when - if - they will,” Henry confirmed, bluntly.  “We took six months to understand the principles behind it, but we had a working model to examine.  They ... may not have been so lucky.”

“It would be unwise to count on it,” Susan warned.

Henry nodded.  “Assuming the enemy successfully takes control of the Unity System,” he said, “they will have access to tramlines leading into human space as well as the chance to outflank the Tadpole defences and punch towards Tadpole Prime.  Joint Headquarters has decided that humanity should make its first major contribution to the war by securing Unity and preventing the unknowns from taking the system.”

“Because it’s also the easiest way to withdraw from Tadpole space,” Susan said, cynically.

“Correct,” Henry acknowledged.  He met her eyes, warningly.  “Joint Headquarters is aware, Captain, that we have an obligation to support our allies.  But, at the same time, they’re concerned about the prospect of major fleet losses.  We took heavy losses in the opening engagements of the war and they’re understandably concerned about the danger they represent.”

Susan nodded, curtly.  “Does that mean we will have orders to break contact and retreat if the odds swing too heavily against us?”

“Yes,” Henry said.  He nodded to the bulkhead.  “How long does it take to put a battleship together?”

“
Vanguard
took five years,” Susan said, shortly.  “Her sisters took two years - but by then, we understood what we were doing.”

“And had ironed out the glitches in the design,” Henry said.  Even with
his
level of access he hadn't been able to read
everything
about the
Vanguard
-class, but he knew that Commodore Naiser and his team had run into all sorts of problems as they struggled to finalise the design and turn the diagrams into reality.  “The point is, Captain, that major fleet losses in the coming battles could
shorten
the war.  We have space to trade for time and we’re going to need it.”

“I understand,” Susan said.  “But will the Tadpoles?”

“They are a remarkably practical species,” Henry said.  “I think they will understand.”

He kept the rest of the thought to himself.  Joint Headquarters hadn't forgotten
all
of the lessons of the First Interstellar War, but they’d clearly forgotten some of them.  Their elaborate orders, designed to cover every imaginable scenario, gave very little leeway to the commanders on the spot.  And the moment they ran into something the orders didn't cover, they were going to be in deep trouble.

“I hope you’re right,” Susan said.  “We don’t need
two
wars on our hands.”

Henry nodded in agreement.  The Tadpoles didn't think like humans, a lesson he’d had pounded into his skull time and time again.  Some of their laws made sense, but others were frankly incomprehensible ... and there were gaps in their legal system that constantly horrified their human allies.  But Henry had no doubt that they felt the same way about humanity.  He'd once spent two hours trying to explain
rape
to them and discovered that they reacted with horror and incomprehension.

But their child mortality rates are through the roof
, he thought. 
And that horrifies us too
.

“Assuming we get there before the enemy, we are to take up defensive position and evacuate as many of the colonists as possible,” he said.  “Once the enemy arrive, we are to drive them out of the system by any means necessary.  JHQ would be delighted if we captured an enemy ship or two - and a few of their personnel - but the main priority is to score an outright victory over the newcomers.  Admiral Harper has authority to launch a counterattack if he feels it justified ...”

He shook his head.  “Protecting Unity is the key,” he added, softly.  “That’s politically important for our lords and masters, I think.”

Susan nodded in silent agreement.  Henry understood.  Unity had been discovered shortly after the First Interstellar War and, given its position in the heart of the neutral zone between the Human Sphere and the Tadpoles, the question of settlement rights had always been a touchy one.  He had been involved in hammering out the agreement to share the world, despite strong feelings on both sides that colony worlds should
not
be shared.  But then, it wasn't as if the two races really impinged on one another. 

“I heard that funding was almost cancelled twice,” Susan said.  “And that settlers were few and far between.”

“It wasn't the settlers that posed a problem,” Henry said, “even though there was some fear that we were risking another Terra Nova.  But funding ... that was threatened more than once.”

Susan frowned.  “Do they have any defences at all?”

“Just a handful of automated orbital weapons platforms,” Henry said.  “They never had the level of investment they needed, even though Unity was quite a promising star system.  Too many question marks over who owned the system, really.”

“Wonderful,” Susan said.  She took a final swig from her glass and put it down on the table, then looked at him.  “There was no way to arrange for some kind of return on investment?”

Henry shook his head.  A colony world was a
very
good long-term investment, if someone got in on the ground floor, but Unity had too many caveats to make it a very good investment for anyone.  The Tadpole economic system was so different from humanity’s that he doubted they understood the
concept
of ownership, let alone a return on investment.  Perhaps it was possible to work out a deal with the human settlers, but even that would be chancy.  The investors Unity needed were unwilling to take the risk unless the governments guaranteed their investments ...