Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7) (23 page)

Charlotte took a shaky breath.  “So what do we do?”

“I notice Major Andreas and the Chief Engineer weren't invited,” Mason said.  “Did you have a reason to leave them out?”

“Yes,” Susan said.  She looked from face to face, hoping they understood.  “If the shit hits the fan, I’m going to relieve the captain of command.  If necessary, I’ll stun him on the bridge and leave him there until after the shooting has stopped.  This will not be reported to Admiral Boskone or any of the flotilla until the fighting is over.  All I need from you is your acceptance of the change in command.”

“You’re putting yourself at risk,” Mason observed.

Susan nodded.  If she relieved the captain in the middle of a combat zone, the best she could hope for was a court martial and a long sentence to Colchester Military Prison.  Admiral Boskone
might
review the records and decide to send her back to Earth, rather than passing summary judgement himself.  But if he didn’t, or if the captain’s contacts took his side, she rather suspected she’d be marched to the gallows and hanged.  His family would definitely blame her for his disgrace.

“I understand the risk,” she said, out loud.  She’d never been anywhere near Colchester, but she’d gone through the dreaded Conduct After Capture course at the academy.  Being in prison would probably be worse, far worse.  “And I will take full responsibility if things go badly wrong.”

“Which they will,” Mason said.  “You’re talking about mutiny.”

“It isn't quite a mutiny,” Reed protested.

“Call it mutiny, barratry or whatever,” Susan said, crossly.  Captain Blake would
certainly
call it mutiny.  “The point is that I am going to relieve the captain of command in a combat zone.  The Admiral will not fail to take a dim view of it.”

“I can't let you do this alone,” Mason said.

“You have to,” Susan said.  Whatever happened, her career was doomed.  Perhaps it was what she deserved, for not reporting the problem as soon as she’d become aware there
was
a problem, but she’d been caught in a trap.  “There’s no point in throwing your career away right behind mine.”

She met Parkinson’s eyes.  “All you have to do is follow my orders, as if I was in command ...”

“You
are
in command,” Reed said.  “You’re this ship’s commanding officer in all but name.”

“I’m sure that argument will impress the Admiralty,” Mason said.  “It’s quite possible the captain will just lurk in his cabin when the shit hits the fan.”

“You don’t know it
will
hit the fan,” Charlotte insisted.

“We have to prepare for the worst,” Susan said, again.  “I don’t know anything about this new alien race - do you?  But we do know that first contact with the Tadpoles went badly wrong and led to a shooting war.  I will
not
have this ship found wanting if we have to take her into battle.”

She studied the younger woman for a long moment.  Charlotte was very good with her sensors, all right, but she hadn’t had enough experience to understand the little compromises officers had to make with regulations.  Or, for that matter, to realise that doing the
legal
thing could sometimes blow one’s career out of the water.  She’d have to learn quickly, Susan told herself, or she’d wind up in deep trouble.  Politics shouldn’t have any bearing on military operations, everyone knew, but they did.

“I understand,” Mason said, quietly.  “For what it’s worth, I won’t oppose you when you take command.”

Susan nodded, gratefully.  It was rare, vanishingly rare - in fact, she couldn't think of a single incident - when a captain was taken out without losing the entire ship.  Maybe a fleet carrier could survive something that took out the bridge - there were secondary bridges and emergency control stations - but anything that inflicted serious damage on a cruiser or destroyer would smash the command network beyond hope of repair.

And yet we have procedures for losing the bridge
, she thought, darkly. 
We just don’t have procedures for losing the captain
.

Reed leaned forward.  “I assume he refuses to go for a medical exam?”

“I doubt one would pick up on his loss of bottle,” Mason sneered.  “It isn't a
physical
problem.”

“No,” Susan said, flatly.

“Then I won’t resist your coup either,” Reed said.  “Are you planning to ask anyone else?”

“Just the senior bridge crew,” Susan said.  If it had been
entirely
up to her,
no one
would have been told before she actually relieved the captain, but she didn't dare risk a confrontation on the bridge while the ship was under attack.  “Whatever happens, no one else is to have advance warning.”

“Yes, Commander,” Parkinson said.  “And I won’t resist either.”

“I’m not remotely comfortable with this,” Charlotte admitted.

“Join the club,” Mason snapped.

“But it does have to be done,” Charlotte continued, ignoring Mason’s interruption.  “And if it is to be a joint endeavour ...”

“It should be just me,” Susan said, flatly.  “If worst come to worst, I’m hoping none of you will be considered accomplices.”

“We will be,” Mason said.

“But I am the XO,” Susan said.  “It was
my
duty to bring our concerns to higher authority and I did not do so.  My career is the only one that should be at risk.”

“With all due respect, Commander, your career is
not
the only one at risk,” Reed said.  “And yeah, maybe we should have complained while we were back home.  Now, all we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“Very well,” Susan said.  “But nothing - absolutely
nothing
- is to be done unless the shit hits the fan.  I don’t want to hear about
anything
that might be related to this until the shit hits the fan.  Do you all understand me?”

“Yes, Commander,” Reed said.

Susan allowed herself a sigh of relief.  There should be no need to take any further precautions, except obtaining a stunner from the armoury and practicing with it.  And who knew?  Maybe her precautions would not be necessary.

Sure
, the pessimistic side of her mind noted. 
And perhaps the horse will learn to sing
.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Despite himself, Henry couldn't help feeling a mixture of delight and concern as the shuttle approached the giant battleship.  He’d hoped, once upon a time, to vanish into the ranks of the Royal Navy as yet another fighter pilot, but everything that had happened to him - being captured by the Tadpoles and turned into the first
de facto
ambassador - had rendered that impossible.  The child in him loved the concept of the battleship; the adult knew he was going to have to explain, time and time again, that he was no longer a Prince of the Realm.

And whoever reinvented the concept of the male being in line to the throne, rather than the firstborn, really needs to burn
, he thought. 
I will not be King of Britain
.

He scowled at the thought.  The only good news, as far as he could tell, was that most of the human ships had been on war games, rather than dispatched from Earth.  Admiral Boskone had to be gloating over his luck; the only reporters on the ships would be Admiralty-approved embedded reporters, rather than the dunderheads who made up the vast majority of the media corps.  Maybe the ones who’d chased him all over the world
hadn’t
been assigned to clearing up the mess in the restricted zones, but at least they wouldn't be on
Vanguard
.  He could pass wind without worrying about reading about it on the datanet.

The shuttle slowed as it approached the battleship, then carefully docked itself against one of the universal airlocks.  Henry had worried about taking a Tadpole shuttle, but thankfully the Tadpoles had anticipated the problem and borrowed a human-designed shuttle - as well as a pilot - from the embassy before their fleet had departed Tadpole Prime.  Living on a Tadpole ship wasn't easy - most of the ship was filled with water, effectively keeping the humans prisoner - but they were going to meet a whole new alien race!  Henry would have happily spent the entire trip in a spacesuit, smell and all.

“The hatch is opening,” the pilot called.  “Ambassador, if you would like to disembark first ...?”

Henry sighed, inwardly.  He’d signalled ahead, asking for a lack of ceremony, but it was clear that whoever was in command of the battleship had chosen to ignore his request.  And to think he’d been careful to ask for his staff to be placed on
Vanguard
, rather than the fleet carrier
Courageous
!  Part of it was curiosity - he’d never had the chance to inspect the first true human battleship - but the rest of it was ensuring a degree of separation between the ambassadorial staff and the military commanding officer.  It meant nothing to him - he’d been in the military - yet it would be important to others.  Besides, it might just convince the unknowns that humanity
hadn't
sent a purely military force to make contact.

And they’d have to be very stupid to believe that
, he thought, rising. 
But a sensible race would understand the need to take precautions
.

He tugged down his shirt as he walked towards the hatch, feeling oddly uncomfortable in his shirt and trousers.  He’d grown far too used to the heat of Tadpole Prime, but he doubted he’d be allowed to walk the battleship’s corridors in swimming trunks.  Or, for that matter, that his female staff would be allowed to wear nothing more than bikini briefs.  He pushed the thought aside, pasted something he devoutly
hoped
was a princely expression on his face and stepped through the hatch.  The battleship was strikingly
cold
.

“Britannia, arriving,” a voice boomed.

Henry fought hard to keep his face expressionless as he took in the handful of people waiting for him, wearing their dress uniforms.  They’d hate him for that alone, he was sure.  Unless dress uniforms had magically become more comfortable in the thirteen years since he’d left the navy, which he doubted, there wasn’t a single person in the line who wasn’t either uncomfortable or itchy.  Or both.  And to think he’d bloody
asked
for a complete lack of ceremony!

He braced himself, saluted the flag and then turned his attention to the ship’s officers.  The Captain looked dashing in his uniform, but there was something about his attitude that reminded Henry of some of his odder cousins.  Beside him, his XO was a dark-skinned woman, one who seemed preoccupied with a greater thought.  At least she didn’t seem to carry a chip on her shoulder, as far too many officers - including his younger self - did after life had reminded them, far too often, that it wasn't fair.

“Welcome onboard, Your Highness,” Captain Blake said.  His file suggested a career officer with good prospects, but the fawning tone in his voice suggested otherwise.  Did he really think
Henry
could boost his career?  Even
King Charles
would have problems patronising an officer, regardless of his skills.  “It is a pleasure to have you on my ship.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Henry said.  Maybe it had been a mistake to ask for
Vanguard
, but he'd expected to meet someone akin to Theodore Smith or James Fitzwilliam.  Smith had torn him a new asshole, twice, and he’d deserved both of them.  “I look forward to finding my way around her.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” Captain Blake said.  “But first, let me introduce my officers.”

His tone shifted, marginally, as he introduced nine men and women, suggesting that some of them had powerful connections while others did not.  Henry committed their names and faces to memory - if there was one good thing about his training, it was that he never forgot a face - and made private plans to talk with them later.  Commander Onarina was probably a fascinating conversationalist; there was something about her attitude that reminded him of Janelle, although he couldn't put his finger on it.  And Midshipman Fitzwilliam looked like a young and feminine version of her uncle.

Poor girl
, Henry thought, as Captain Blake introduced her.  His fawning sounded worse than unwanted sexual advances. 
She looks as though she hates him
.

“I’ll show you to your cabin personally,” the captain finished.  “We’ve put your staffers in nearby compartments.”

“That’s good to hear,” Henry lied.  Maybe he was a bit older from when he’d served on
Ark Royal
, but he wasn't fat enough to need a whole compartment for himself.  “I’ll also need to review your tactical staff’s work, if that’s all right.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the captain said.  “If you’ll come right this way ...?”

He didn't seem interested in greeting any of the staffers, Henry noted, as Captain Blake led him through the corridors. 
Vanguard
felt different from
Ark Royal
, a sense of newness pervading the hull, even though the hints of paint he recalled from
Theodore Smith’s
commissioning ceremony were absent.  But then, the Old Lady had been over seventy years old by the time she’d sailed out to do battle against the Tadpoles. 
Vanguard
had barely been in active service for
three
.

“I’m looking forward to hearing about the war games,” he said, as they reached Officer Country.  “I heard they were quite spectacular.”

“Indeed they were,” Captain Blake said.  “My crew acquitted itself well.”

He keyed a switch, opening a hatch.  For a moment, Henry simply stared.  The cabin was huge, easily large enough for thirty or forty sleeping racks.  There was a drinks cabinet, a solid desk, a private computer terminal ... the bed, he saw to his astonishment, was located in a separate compartment.  He wasn't exactly unused to huge bedrooms, but on a starship wasting so much space on one person was absurd!

“Your bags will be brought along, Your Highness,” Captain Blake said.  “I was hoping we could discuss policy later.”

“I need to discuss how best to approach the unknowns,” Henry said.  It was true enough.  The Tadpoles had a basic plan, but human input would be required before the fleet advanced to UXS-469.  “My staff will coordinate with the admiral’s staff ...”

“I believe the admiral intends to invite you to dinner tomorrow night,” Captain Blake said, seriously.  “I’d be delighted, however, if you joined me in my stateroom for dinner tonight.”

It won’t get you anything
, Henry thought.  He scrambled for an excuse, but came up with nothing.  Captain Blake might be annoying, yet his dinner invitation couldn't be declined diplomatically.  Stopping a war would be easier. 
Blast
.

“I would be honoured,” he lied, smoothly.  “And I look forward to discussing the war games with you.”

Captain Blake bowed and retreated out of the hatch.  Henry watched him go, then shook his head in disbelief.  Admiral Smith hadn't treated him with any deference.  Indeed, when he’d discovered that Henry and Janelle had become lovers, he’d scolded Henry for exposing Janelle to the media.  Henry’s own
father
hadn't torn him apart so effectively.  The idea of Admiral Smith fawning ... it was impossible to credit.  And Admiral Fitzwilliam hadn't been any more inclined to fawn on his well-connected officers.

Not that he had to be
, Henry thought. 
He was already at the top of the tree
.

The buzzer rang.  Henry hesitated, then hurried over to the hatch and pressed the key.  It opened, revealing Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam.  She was carrying his carryall in one hand, her expression rather bemused.  No doubt, given her relatives, she’d expected him to travel with no less than five trunks of clothes, books and assorted junk.

“Thank you,” Henry said, taking the carryall.  The only thing he’d really needed was his diplomatic outfit and a handful of clothes.  A couple of datachips could carry more books and movies than he could hope to read in a year, even if he devoted himself to nothing else.  “I hope your uncle is fine?”

Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam looked embarrassed.  “He was fine the last time I saw him,” she said, so quietly he had to strain to hear her.  At least her connections were
useful
.  Henry had never found an upside to being a Prince of the Realm and potential Heir to the Throne.  “I didn't have a chance to speak to him.”

Her graduation ceremony
, Henry recalled.  The First Space Lord was always the keynote speaker, unless a genuine emergency cropped up. 
Her classmates will have known who she was ...

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, feeling a sudden surge of sympathy.  “I served under him, you know.”

“I know,” Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam said.  “He spoke of you, a few times.  Said you had ...”

She broke off.  Henry shrugged.  The First Space Lord - Captain Fitzwilliam, as he’d been at the time - hadn’t had the best impression of him, the first time they’d met.  Anything he said afterwards, certainly anything said in private, would be a two-edged sword.  And he didn't blame the poor girl for not wanting to repeat whatever she’d heard.

“It doesn't matter,” he said.  It would have been nice to chat with his former commander, but that wouldn't happen unless he returned to Earth.  “Thank you for bringing my bag.”

He watched her go, wondering just who’d given her the assignment and why.  A midshipwoman wasn't meant to carry bags, fetch tea or any other task more suited to a steward or a crewman.  Indeed, it was either a humiliating task, intended as a punishment, or another example of the captain’s fawning.  He was starting to have the feeling that
Vanguard
wasn't exactly a happy ship.

Shaking his head, he placed the carryall on the bed and walked back to the desk.  A line of messages had already appeared in his inbox, mainly concerning plans for making first contact.  Captain Blake had been correct, he noted; Admiral Boskone had invited Henry and his staff to dinner the following day.  No doubt the captain was congratulating himself on having pulled off a social coup.

Idiot
, he thought, coldly. 
Let’s see what dinner brings
.

***

It hadn't been an easy two weeks.

Susan had known she was committing herself, when she’d spoken to the other senior officers about her plans.  A single word from one of them to the captain, or the admiral, would have brought the entire plan crashing down in ruins, probably taking her career with it.  Her tension had only risen the closer they’d come to UXS-468, where they were due to meet up with the diplomats.  It hadn’t made organising the flotilla any easier.