Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7) (19 page)

Her frown deepened as she worked her way through the files.  Every midshipman who’d been promoted had also been reassigned, without fail.  That was standard procedure - and lucky, very lucky, for Fraser.  Tradition might insist that whatever happened in middy country
stayed
in middy country, but she didn't think
she
could have resisted the temptation to punish him, once she gained promotion.  His bitterness had only been made worse by watching junior officers rising above him and being reassigned.  He probably wouldn't have taken it so hard, she thought, if they
had
stayed on
Vanguard
.

She saved the files on the datapad, then skimmed through the file covering the official regulations - and unofficial traditions - of midshipmen in the Royal Navy.  All sorts of things were condoned, if they were kept within reasonable limits; higher authority didn't
like
being forced to take note of problems in middy country.  Fraser would be in deep shit if something happened, even if it hadn't been his fault.  He was, after all, the first middy.  Whatever happened in middy country was his responsibility.

Then I have to handle the matter myself
, she thought.  Complaining would ruin both of their careers, no matter what else happened. 
And ...

She gritted her teeth as she rose, checked the compartment to make sure she hadn't left anything lying on the deck, then opened the hatch and strode through without a backwards glance.  No one was standing outside, much to her relief, but she passed two crewwomen who grinned knowingly at her as she walked up the corridor.  Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment, knowing just what sort of rumours would be running through the ship.  If someone had seen her
enter
, Fraser and the other midshipmen might already have heard ...

They’ll forget about it
, she told herself, as she reached middy country.  The hatch hissed open, revealing an empty corridor. 
It isn't as if we don’t have anything else to talk about
.

She hesitated outside the hatch to the sleeping compartment, feeling her heart starting to race in her chest.  She was no coward - she wouldn't have passed through the academy if she’d been a coward - and yet she was afraid.  Part of her just wanted to give in, to duck her head and endure until she was promoted up and off the ship, but she was too stubborn.  She couldn't imagine her uncle bowing the head to anyone.  The only senior officer he’d spoken of with respect had been Theodore Smith.

The hatch hissed open.  Fraser stood there, looking annoyed.  She caught sight of Nathan and Walter behind him, Walter half-naked as he undressed for the shower.  They both glanced at her, Nathan trying to convey a warning message with his eyes.  No doubt Fraser had realised she’d traded some of her assignments for an hour of relative peace.

“So,” Fraser said.  “Had enough of pleasuring yourself?”

George pulled herself up to her full height. 
Someone
had to have seen her entering the privacy compartment, alone.  She wondered who, then decided it didn't matter.  Rumours grew in the telling as people added new details, then reported those details as fact.  No doubt she’d discover tomorrow that she'd taken part in a threesome with two other midshipmen.

“No,” she said.  “But I’ve had enough of you.”

Fraser’s eyes widened, but he showed no other sign of surprise.  Instead, he stepped closer until he was looming over her.  Even standing upright, she was still a head shorter than him; she had to fight to keep from stepping backwards as he pushed his way into her personal space.  There was little of
that
on a starship, but he was deliberately trying to intimidate her.

“I challenge you to meet me in the gym,” she said, tossing down a gauntlet.  “The winner will be first middy.”

His face went blank.  Technically, she
couldn’t
take his position, but if she beat him in a fight she’d be first middy in all but name.  And, by the unwritten code of conduct, if he refused her challenge, she’d be first middy anyway.  He’d be furious - she had nothing at stake, beyond being beaten in the fight - and yet he couldn't refuse, not in front of the rest of the middies.

“It strikes me that you have nothing to lose,” he said, finally.  “What can I possibly win?”

George forced herself to meet his dark eyes.  “The right to be first middy?”

His eyes flared with anger and she knew she’d won.  He couldn't refuse her challenge, not now, even though the best he could hope for was keeping his place.  No one would respect him if he declined the challenge.  And yet, with the odds so uneven, he wouldn't gain much through victory.  Unless, of course, he gained pleasure out of beating her to within an inch of her life.

“Very well,” he said, tightly.  “We will meet tomorrow afternoon.  I can alter the duty rosters to ensure we both have an hour’s free time.  I trust that will be suitable?”

“Of course,” George said.  There was no backing out now, not for either of them.  “I look forward to it,
sir
.”

Fraser showed his teeth.  “I look forward to it too,” he said, as he walked past her.  She tensed, expecting a blow, but felt nothing.  “Until then, go do your duties.”

“Yes, sir,” George said.

Nathan caught her arm as she stepped into the sleeping compartment.  “Are you mad?”  He demanded.  “He’ll kill you!”

“I once saw him thrash a midshipman bloody,” Walter offered.  “The poor guy spent a week in sickbay.”

“I’m just sick of him,” George said.  Now she’d issued the challenge, she felt cold - and terrified.  The combat training she’d had at the academy had been very limited.  She’d certainly never been expected to fight hand-to-hand.  “And just because he hasn’t been promoted is no reason to take it out on me.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Daddy,” Victoria Windsor called, as she peered through the bedroom door.  “You have a priority call from the swimming pool.”

Ambassador Henry Windsor - who was no longer His Royal Highness, at least in his own mind - groaned as he pulled upright.  It had been a late night at the embassy complex on Tadpole Prime and he’d only managed to get to sleep - he glanced at the clock mounted on the wall - three hours before his oldest daughter had woken him.  His tiredness insisted he should tell her to ask the caller to wait and go back to bed.  And yet, it
had
to be an emergency.  A call from the swimming pool meant that he, in his role as Earth’s ambassador to the Tadpoles, was being summoned to meet with their representatives.

Unless they forgot to check the time when they called
, he thought, sourly.  The Tadpoles, living below the waves, didn't really understand why humans worked during the day and slept at night. 
But they wouldn't call me directly unless it was important
.

He stood and grabbed his dressing gown, pulling it on over his swimming trunks, then shoed his daughter back to her bedroom as he hurried down the corridor and into the secure room, where a human face was on the screen.  Charles Potter was, technically, Henry’s assistant, although he seemed to spend most of his time engaging in bureaucratic wars with the other embassy staffers rather than doing his job.  Indeed, Henry had had to speak to him quite sharply when the man had tried to insist that Henry and his family should live in the embassy itself, rather than the mid-sized house in Human Town.  It wasn't as if he
needed
to be in the embassy to do his job.

“Charles,” he said, sitting down in front of the terminal.  “What’s up?”

Potter’s face twitched at the deliberate informality.  “Mr. Ambassador,” he said, stiffly.  It had taken Henry a year to stop Potter addressing him as ‘Your Highness,’ even though he’d put the title aside.  “We picked up a priority call from the swimming pool.  They request your immediate presence.”

Henry frowned.  “Did they say why?”

“Nothing,” Potter said.  “And the discussion boards are clear.”

Henry felt his frown deepen.  The Tadpoles were not human and, like their human counterparts, they worked hard to avoid misunderstandings that could easily lead to a renewed conflict.  If something had happened to restart the war, he was sure the embassy would have seen
some
signs of it ... and there had been nothing.  The only issue he’d had to handle that had been more than merely routine, over the last two years, had been the joint exploration program and even
that
had been a minor matter.  When one race wanted the lands and the other the sea, it was hard to find anything to fight over.

“Inform them I will be there presently,” Henry said.  The Tadpoles wouldn't be impressed - they probably wouldn't even
notice
- if he turned up fashionably late.  “And then have the courier boats prepped for immediate departure.”

“Of course, Mr. Ambassador,” Potter said.  “I’ll also call the senior representatives ...”

“You better had,” Henry grunted.  Maybe it was nothing, but it was better to be safe than sorry.  Besides, if he’d been woken in the early hours of the morning, his staff might as well be awakened too.  “I’ll call ahead when I leave the swimming pool.”

He closed the channel and turned, just in time to see Janelle Windsor entering the chamber carrying a steaming mug of coffee.  A decade of married life - and three beautiful young children - had only enhanced her beauty, as far as he was concerned.  And, unlike far too many of the other wives, she actually knew how to support her husband.  Bringing coffee when he desperately needed it was only the icing on the cake.

“Victoria said you needed this,” Janelle said.  “Is it going to be bad?  Another Simon?”

“I hope not,” Henry said.  He drank the coffee quickly, despite the heat, then hurried down to the door.  “Last time was quite bad enough.”

He winced at the memory.  Simon Barlow, the son of one of the embassy staffers, had made the mistake of swimming in the ocean, only to be killed in passing by a handful of Tadpoles.  Human outrage had been met with Tadpole incomprehension; the humans had been horrified at a young child’s death, the Tadpoles had honestly been unable to understand why the humans were so outraged.  To them, children were expendable.  Only a relative handful of juniors survived long enough to grow into adults and enter society.  The whole affair had left a nasty taste in everyone’s mouth.  Henry had kept his daughters on Tadpole Prime, but he never allowed them to leave Human Town.  The other parents felt the same way too.

“Good luck,” Janelle said.

Henry nodded, discarded his dressing gown and walked out the door.  The heat struck him like a physical blow, reminding him that Tadpole Prime was significantly hotter and wetter than anywhere on Earth, at least outside the tropics.  Overhead, the skies were darkening; it wouldn't be long before the first rainstorms began, drenching the small settlement in rushing water.  They’d designed the buildings to redirect water down to the ocean, but even so ... it was a very odd settlement.

And it takes a very odd set of humans
, he thought,
to live here
.

He smiled at the thought as he passed two of the French staffers jogging around the settlement before the rainstorm began.  Both of them wore nothing more than bikini underpants, their breasts bobbing merrily as they moved.  He reminded himself, firmly, he was a married man, even though there weren't many people in the settlement who wore more than shorts or swimming trunks.  Anyone who tried to walk outside, wearing a suit and tie, was likely to get heatstroke sooner rather than later.  The long-term settlers had just had to get used to near-nudity.

There were no dangerous animals on the island - the Tadpoles had cleared them out, years ago - but there was a metal fence surrounding the complex anyway, mainly to keep the children inside.  Henry nodded to the guard at the gate, who opened the door to allow him to hurry down to the swimming pool.  It was, perhaps, the strangest complex on the island, a structure that reminded him of an iceberg pushed up against a tropical beach.  The Tadpoles had designed it as a place both races could meet and talk, but most humans found it uncomfortable.  Henry wasn't
sure
, but he had the feeling the Tadpoles found it uncomfortable too, although for different reasons.  A moist atmosphere, too wet for humans, might well be too dry for the aliens.

He glanced up as thunder rolled, directly overhead, then started to run as the rain started to pelt down.  The pathway dissolved into a slippery mess, but he kept his balance with the ease of long practice as he reached the door and hurried inside.  A pair of staffers stood there, one holding a headphone set that connected directly to the settlement’s computers.  Henry hated to think of how much money had been spent on the network, just to get something that was as near to truly intelligent as possible.  But there was no choice.  There was no other way to talk to the Tadpoles.

“The triad has been in the swimming pool for the last half hour,” Mariko said.  She was Japanese - and one of the smartest people Henry had met, although at twenty-five she was easy to underestimate.  Her assignment to the embassy, perhaps the most vital duty station in the galaxy, spoke well of her.  “They’ve been waiting for you.”

Henry frowned, concerned.  The Tadpoles didn't really understand human diplomacy, but it was unlike them to enter the negotiating chamber until their human counterparts had arrived, something to do with their social structure.  If they’d changed the rules ... he nodded to them both, placed the headset over his ears and hurried through the inner door.  The Tadpoles were waiting for him.

He came to a halt as the triad surfaced, their dark eyes staring at him.  The first humans to meet the Tadpoles face to face had thought they were staring at sea monsters - and, up close, it was easy to see their point.  A Tadpole was a vaguely humanoid creature, but there were so many flaps and folds of leathery dark skin that it was hard to be sure.  Indeed, there were people who steadfastly believed that the Tadpoles had no legs.  He didn't wrinkle his nose at the faint smell of rotting fish - he was used to it - as he walked over to the swimming pool and sat down, allowing his legs to dangle into the water.  There was nothing dangerous under the surface, he knew.  The Tadpoles hadn't been able to understand why their human counterparts wanted the water free of smaller creatures - everything from tiny fish to crab-analogues - but they’d happily kept the water clear.

They probably thought of it as an embassy dinner
, Henry thought. 
And think of us as people who don’t like to eat while we’re working
.

“I greet you,” he said.  It was better to use simple concepts when talking to the Tadpoles, if only to limit the risk of screwing up the translation.  “I have come, as you requested.”

The triad - he was never sure if he was meeting the same Tadpoles, every time - shifted for a long chilling moment, their heads slipping in and out of the water.  It was hard, very hard, to tell the Tadpoles apart; indeed, as a communal race, it was vanishingly rare to talk to one of the Tadpoles alone.  The researchers assumed the Tadpoles had similar problems telling humans apart, although Henry wasn't so sure.  Tadpole eyes were far more capable than human eyes and humans were far more distinctive.

“There have been developments,” an atonal voice said, finally.  No attempt to add emotion to the speaking voice had succeeded; indeed, reading Tadpole emotions was almost as hard as telling them apart.  “A starship has returned from the unknown waters.”

Henry blinked in surprise.  The unknown waters were what the Tadpoles called the unexplored tramlines on the other side of their space.  They’d been quite happy, after the dust had settled from the Anglo-Indian War, to share the costs of exploring the unknown regions, if only to prevent a second disastrous First Contact.  Discovering one other intelligent race during their early explorations might have been bad luck, but discovering
two
...

“They have detected a third spacefaring race,” the Tadpole voice said.  “This race is apparently on the same level as ourselves.”

“Wow,” Henry said.  His thoughts caught up with him a moment later.  “Shit.”

The Tadpoles had been more advanced than humanity by at least a decade, when the war had begun.  And he knew, from bitter experience, that they'd come very close to winning.  A new race presented all sorts of opportunities - humanity and the Tadpoles had learned a great deal from one another - but they also posed a threat.  There could be no careful contact procedure when the newcomers were spacefaring, nor could contact be broken in an emergency.  The First Contact mission would have to be put together very carefully.

“As laid down in the treaty, we intend to put together a task force to make contact,” the Tadpole voice said.  The triad jumped in and out of the water, sending waves rippling through the pool and splashing over the edge.  “We invite you to add warships and contact specialists to the fleet.”

Henry nodded.  The treaty had gone into great detail about just
how
any new self-spacefaring race was to be approached, although the
next
First Contact - on Vesy - had been botched from start to finish.  Both races were to be informed, defences were to be prepared and the First Contact mission was to be escorted and covered by a powerful task force.  The Tadpoles would probably make the largest contribution, as they were closer to the new race, but humanity needed to be represented.

“I believe my people will be happy to uphold their half of the treaty,” he said.  The Tadpoles hadn't shown much interest in the Vesy, but a spacefaring race was a potential danger by any reasonable standards.  “I will communicate with my people and request redeployment.”

“All data has been forwarded to your embassy,” the triad informed him.  “We thank you.”

They vanished beneath the water.  Henry leaned forward, just in time to see them swimming out into the ocean, down towards their settlements far below the waves.  He’d seen their cities through underwater cameras, but he’d never been there and he probably never would.  A handful of humans had been modified to allow them to breathe underwater, yet Tadpole Prime’s oceans held too many dangers.  There were nasty shark-analogues that the Tadpoles treated as pets - and guard dogs.