“They may not go for that,” the First Space Lord said.
“A handful of them will be former naval personages themselves,” Henry said. It was traditional for the aristocracy to send at least one or two of their children into the military, normally the Royal Navy. “They’ll understand. And the ones who aren’t will have someone to explain it to them, even if they have to use words of one syllable. They may not grasp the complexities of a naval engagement, but they will understand looming political disaster.”
“I confess I don’t share your faith in their rationality,” the First Space Lord mused.
Henry shrugged. There was no shortage of inbred idiots amongst the British Aristocracy - in his nastier moments, he wondered if his sister had only one or two working brain cells - but the ones who managed to reach high rank tended to be very competent indeed. And they would be ruthless enough to drop Blake like a hot rock, if patronising him raised the spectre of watching helplessly as their own positions were undermined.
“We will see,” he said.
He took a breath. “At that point, you will inform them that the Board of Inquiry has decided that Captain Susan Onarina acted in the finest traditions of the Royal Navy, etcetera, etcetera and that it has recommended that she be confirmed as Vanguard’s commanding officer. You will, of course, accept this recommendation. And when they protest, as they will, you will also tell them that the Board of Inquiry has recommended that Captain Blake be given a medical discharge from the Royal Navy. They will, I am sure, regard it as a way out of the mess they’ve managed to get themselves into.”
“And grab it with both hands,” the First Space Lord observed. “Do you think the Board of Inquiry will cooperate?”
“A fair-minded Board of Inquiry will definitely produce a report that backs my conclusions,” Henry pointed out. “Right now, I suspect they’re worried about the effects on their careers if they produce the wrong report, without actually knowing which one is the wrong report. And if they seem reluctant, you can merely order them to come to the right conclusions.”
“Boards of Inquiry hate being leaned on,” the First Space Lord said.
“But it is a defensible position,” Henry said. “And if it blows up, it will blow up in your face, not theirs.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t like me anymore,” the First Space Lord commented. He smiled, rather thinly. “You’ve changed, Henry.”
“I was an ambassador for over a decade,” Henry said. He bit down the urge to ask just how much respect an admiral who was prepared to throw one of his subordinates under the shuttlecraft deserved. His former commander was caught between two fires. “I still am, technically. And I have learned a great deal about how the universe works in that time.”
The First Space Lord smiled, again. “And what about Blake himself?”
“My impression of him, towards the end of the voyage home, was one of relief,” Henry said, honestly. “I think he will accept his pension and fade into obscurity.”
He sighed, inwardly. Captain Blake hadn't impressed him, but the First Space Lord was right. Blake had been a good officer once, before he’d lost his nerve. Henry would have been sorry for him if he’d been smart enough to request relief before the shit hit the fan, but he understood. No officer would request relief if there was any way it could be avoided, knowing that it meant the near-certainty of never seeing command again.
You wouldn't have done it either, he told himself, dryly. Would you?
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. He’d been a starfighter pilot. Even towards the end of the war, he’d never progressed beyond Squadron Commander ... and only then because everyone above him had been killed. The Admiralty had promoted him to captain when he'd retired, but he’d never commanded a warship and probably never would.
“I will trust that you are right,” the First Space Lord said. He cocked his head. “Might I ask why you chose to beard me in my den?”
“The new aliens attacked us,” Henry said. “They made no attempt to contact us; they made no attempt, either, to sound us out before opening fire. Even the Tadpoles watched us from stealth before the war began. But these new aliens? Their behaviour is insane, which worries me. Either they were waiting for us to enter their system before attacking or they merely attacked us on sight ...”
“That’s nothing new,” the First Space Lord said, sharply.
“No, it isn’t,” Henry agreed. He’d spent most of the last month closeted with the xenospecialists as they struggled to make sense of what few scraps had been recovered from damaged or destroyed alien ships. If politics - damnable politics - hadn't drawn him away, he would be there still. “But we are at war, sir. We need every capable officer we have ...”
He leaned forward. “And destroying a young officer’s career for saving her ship - and a dozen others - is a dangerous mistake,” he added. “What sort of message does that send to the navy? Or have you been off the command deck for too long?”
“Touché,” the First Space Lord said. He nodded, slowly. “It will be done as you suggest, Henry. And I suggest” - his voice hardened - “that you don’t speak to me like that again.”
“Of course, sir,” Henry said. Why would he? He’d won the argument. “It was a pleasure meeting you again.”
“I’m sure it was,” the First Space Lord said. He rose, terminating the meeting. “My aide will show you back to your shuttle, Henry.”
“Thank you,” Henry said. He rose, too. “And you will tell Susan - Captain Onarina - the good news in person?”
“I suppose I should,” the First Space Lord said. The hatch opened; his aide hurried into the chamber. “Be seeing you, Henry.”
“I’m sure you will,” Henry said. He shook his former commander’s hand, then turned to the hatch. “But right now you have a war to fight.”
Chapter Two
The chamber was a prison. A comfortable prison, to be sure, but still a prison.
Susan Onarina - who wasn't sure if she was a captain or a commander or on the verge of being put in front of a court martial board - lay back on the comfortable bed and sighed, heavily. The suite was luxurious, easily more luxurious than her cabin on Vanguard, but there was a lock on the hatch and - she suspected - an armed guard on the far side. She could amuse herself, between debriefings that often became interrogations, by watching hundreds of movies and television episodes stored in the room’s processor, taking long baths with seemingly unlimited water supplies or writing letters she knew would pass through a dozen hands before they reached their destinations, if they ever did. But she couldn't leave.
She sighed again as she tried to force herself to relax. It had been a month, a month when the only human company she’d encountered had been her guards and a number of high-ranking officers, none of whom had bothered to give their names before launching into the same questions, repeated over and over again. She wasn't sure if they were desperately trying to pin something - anything - on her or if they were merely stalling for time, unsure just how to proceed. She’d tried pointing out that regulations entitled her to both a clear statement of her position and legal advice, if she wished it, but they’d ignored her. It suggested that her fate, whatever it would be, wasn't going to be decided on Titan Base.
Giving up on relaxing, she sat upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed, dropping neatly to the deck. Titan’s low gravity had been a shock at first - she wasn't used to working in low-gee environments - but she’d gotten used to it, after a few embarrassing incidents when she’d just arrived. Striding over to the middle of the chamber, she launched herself into a series of calisthenics that - she hoped - would burn up a little energy. She couldn't help feeling flabby after a month of inactivity, even though she’d tried hard to keep up with her exercise routines. Not knowing what was going to happen to her was the worst.
But I would do it again, she told herself, firmly. Whatever the price, I would do it again.
The thought made her scowl. Thank
s to the unnamed officers, she’d gone through the whole deployment, from her assignment to Vanguard to her ship’s return to Sol, and she knew she would do the same thing twice, even despite knowing it might see her put in front of a wall and shot. It was hard to be sure how many lives she’d saved, but she knew that Captain Blake - wherever he was now - wouldn't have saved anyone. She wondered, idly, if Captain Blake was currently bad-mouthing her to the Admiralty or if he'd taken advantage of the opportunity to quietly resign. It was what she would have done, in his place.
And he lost a ship to something that might well be termed a mutiny, she thought, darkly. He won’t get another command.
She smiled at the thought as she felt sweat running down her back. Captain Blake hadn't been a monster, not like the legendary Captain Bligh, but she didn't regret her actions. Blake had frozen up in combat, something that could easily have gotten the entire ship destroyed before he recovered himself or his superiors ordered him removed from command. She might have pitied him, once upon a time, if he’d simply resigned when he realised he had a problem, but he’d stayed in the command chair. And his reluctance to admit his own weakness had nearly cost him the ship. It had certainly cost him his command - and any hope of flag rank.
There was a tap on the hatch. Susan straightened up, glanced down at her sweat-stained underwear, then shrugged as she tapped the switch to open the hatch. There was no point in trying to be modest, not in a prison suite. She would have been astonished if there weren't pick-ups scattered all over the compartment, monitoring her every move. She’d rarely had any real privacy since she’d joined the navy - she’d certainly never had a private cabin until she’d been promoted to lieutenant - but it galled her. She was, at base, a prisoner.
The hatch hissed open, revealing a grim-faced military policeman. Susan turned to face him, absently admiring the man’s professionalism. But then, Titan Base had to be heaven when redcaps normally spent their days wrestling drunken squaddies in garrison towns or rooting spacers out of spaceport bars an hour before their shuttles were due to leave. Susan might be in hot water, but she was neither drunk nor dangerous. And even if she did decide to escape, getting off Titan Base would be damn near impossible. No one had escaped since the base had been founded, over a century ago.
“Onarina,” the redcap said. He didn't address her by rank. They never did. “You have been ordered to meet a visitor in thirty minutes. Shit, shower and then knock on the hatch for relief.”
He turned without waiting for an acknowledgement and strode out of the chamber, the hatch hissing closed behind him. Susan frowned, thinking hard. A visitor? The representative she’d requested? Or a government lawyer coming to lay down the law? It was nice to think that her friends or family would be clamouring to see her, but she knew it was extremely unlikely. Her civilian friends - and her father - wouldn't be permitted on Titan Base, while her military friends had probably been advised to have as little contact with her as possible until her fate was decided. She'd done everything she could to ensure that the blame could only fall on her, but she knew - all too well - that others would probably be smeared too. A single person turning on her would have been enough to keep her contingency plan from going into operation.
And it would have killed us, she thought, as she walked into the washroom and turned on the shower, discarding her sweaty underwear in the basket. Captain Blake would have lost the ship to the newcomers.
She pushed the thought aside as she washed herself clean, then dried herself thoroughly before donning her uniform. They hadn't taken those, somewhat to her surprise. She wasn't sure if it was a sign they knew they had no case against her or preparation for tearing off her rank badges and awards before throwing her arse in Colchester. As soon as she was dressed, she glanced in the mirror. The dark-skinned girl looking back at her, eyes tired and old, was almost a stranger. She’d worked hard to claw her way up the ladder by sheer ability, but she might well lose everything, just for doing the right thing. Bitter resentment welled up within her, mingled with quiet relief. She’d saved the ship and much of the Contact Fleet. It was something to remember when Admiralty REMFs tried to pin something - anything - on her.
The hatch hissed open when she tapped it, revealing two redcaps waiting for her. There were no handcuffs, nothing to mark her as a prisoner, but she couldn't help feeling trapped as she fell in between them and walked through a series of unmarked hatches. She’d tried to memorise the interior of the base, when she’d first arrived, but she was starting to think that the entire complex was designed to confuse the inmates. She hadn't seen any other inmates either.
They stopped in front of a hatch, which hissed open. Susan glanced at one of the impassive redcaps, then stepped into the tiny compartment. A large metal table, bolted solidly to the deck, dominated the room; two chairs, one on each side, waited for her. A tea machine and water dispenser sat against the far wall, which was a surprise. She’d been allowed to drink water during the endless debriefings, but they’d always provided her with the water themselves. Did they honestly think someone could kill with a plastic cup of water?
The hatch at the far side of the room hissed open. Susan straightened automatically, even though she suspected it would be pointless. Mutiny and disrespect for senior officers? She’d never get a job with a record like that. And then she saluted, sharply, as she recognised the man stepping into the room. She’d never met the First Space Lord in person - and she doubted he remembered her from his speech at the academy - but he was unmistakable.
“Please, be seated,” the First Space Lord ordered. He glanced past her to the redcaps. “Dismissed, corporal.”
“Sir,” the redcap said.
Susan felt her head spinning as she heard the hatch opening and closing behind her. The First Space Lord in person? What did he want? She sat down, carefully, then fought to keep her astonishment off her face as her superior - her ultimate superior - carefully poured them both a cup of tea. It felt utterly surreal, as if she’d shifted into an alternate universe. Surely he had minions for pouring tea. As the junior, she should be pouring the tea!
“I need to talk bluntly,” the First Space Lord said. He passed her the cup, then sat down facing her, resting his hands on the table. “And you should understand, right now, that this conversation is not to be repeated.”
Susan nodded, curtly. He was going to advise her to retire, she was sure. There would be no need to bother with the performance if they were going to put her in front of a court martial board. No, she’d be told to retire quietly with an unblemished record and be grateful. If nothing else, she'd have a good chance at getting a post on a civilian ship ...
“The Board of Inquiry took longer than I had expected to come to a decision,” the First Space Lord said. His voice was very even, but there was an undertone that bothered her. “On one hand, you are guilty of mutiny against your senior officer; on the other hand, your actions made the difference between life and death for thousands of British and allied personnel. It is fortunate that Captain Blake has foregone the chance to bring charges against you and has, instead, quietly resigned.”
It was hard, very hard, to keep the surprise from her face. Susan’s mind whirled as she considered the implications. There was no way that Blake’s resignation would be seen as a honourable act, not now. It would be seen as an admission of responsibility, a confession that he bore some - perhaps all - of the blame for matters getting out of hand. His patrons had to be stunned, she considered. Or perhaps they’d advised him to jump, hoping to bury the whole affair as quickly as possible. It was what she would have done, if she’d been a patron.
And if Blake had demanded a court martial, she thought, the Admiralty would have found it hard to deny him.
“You therefore pose something of a problem,” the First Space Lord continued. “Mutiny is not something we can condone, but you did save the ship and countless lives. Therefore” - he gave her a frosty smile - “your actions have been retroactively authorised. This
is not something I would advise you to bank on in future.”
“Yes, sir,” Susan said, stunned.
“That isn’t the only question over your conduct,” the First Space Lord added, after a long moment. “According to your debriefing, you stated that you were aware of ... issues ... with Captain Blake shortly after you boarded Vanguard. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Susan said.
The First Space Lord eyed her thoughtfully. “Why didn't you bring them to the attention of your superiors?”
Susan met his eyes. “And what would have happened, sir,” she asked sharply, “if I’d done that?”
She pressed on, grimly. “At best, I would have secured Captain Blake’s removal, but my career would have dropped like a stone,” she answered. “No CO worthy of the title would want an XO who’d knifed her previous CO in the back, even if her actions had been officially condoned. I would have been lucky to secure a post on an asteroid mining station in the middle of nowhere. And at worst, Captain Blake would have retained his position and I would be dishonourably dismissed from the navy.”
Fear God and Dread Naught Page 2
