Fear God and Dread Naught

by Christopher Nuttall

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said. Perhaps no officers had survived. “We’ll figure everything out.”

  “Good luck, Your Highness,” General Kershaw said.

  ***

  “You’re taking Vanguard home?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Susan said. She’d invited Captain Trodden and Captain Yegorovich - as the senior captains after her - to a private dinner, two days after Unity had been liberated. “She’s simply too battered to endure another engagement.”

  “I wish I could disagree with you,” Trodden said. “But she definitely needs a shipyard.”

  “You’ll be taking the wounded home with you,” Yegorovich mused. “Did Edinburgh make it back?”

  “Not as yet,” Susan said. She scowled at the thought. Maybe Edinburgh would make it back to Unity ... or maybe she’d already been destroyed in transit. Or suffered a catastrophic drive failure somewhere in the depths of deep space. “I hope you’ll see her here.”

  She looked up at the starchart, cursing under her breath. There had been no sign of a renewed enemy offensive, but she had no illusions about the task force’s ability to continue the fight if a third enemy force showed up. The carriers could harry the enemy from a safe distance, yet the battleships couldn't hope to win an engagement against superior force.

  “You’ll have command,” she said, addressing Yegorovich. “If the enemy shows up in force, beat a swift retreat. No heroics.”

  “The colonists will love that,” Yegorovich said, darkly.

  Susan shrugged. Most of the colonists had faded into the countryside, abandoning Unity City until the war was finally over. The remainder had requested passage on the task force back to Earth. Susan knew, all too well, that Vanguard couldn't accommodate them all, but she’d try to take as many as possible. The aliens might return to Unity at any moment.

  “We need reinforcements,” she said. “After that - we can think about heroics.”

  “True, Captain,” Trodden agreed. He didn't show any resentment at being passed over for command, although he was technically junior to Yegorovich. But then, the next engagement would be a carrier battle. “You’d better make sure they send us reinforcements ASAP.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Susan said. A full task force - battleships and carriers - would be enough to stab back up the network of tramlines towards UXS-469 - and then into the alien star system that had been discovered by HMS Magellan and HMS Livingston. Hitting the aliens where they lived would force them to pull forces back from the front, giving the Tadpoles a breather. “But you know how reluctant some senior officers can be to take risks.”

  “Don’t want their ships scratched,” Trodden agreed.

  “Ships are always scratched - or lost,” Yegorovich said, disdainfully. He sniffed. “It’s what they’re lost for that counts.”

  Susan shrugged. She could see his point, but she also knew just how time-consuming it was to produce a battleship, even if the Admiralty could convince the Treasury to sign a blank check. Losing Vanguard would put a crimp in future operations, at least until more battleships were commissioned. And that would take far too long.

  “It doesn't matter,” she said, firmly. “All that matters is doing our duty.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Trodden said.

  “I’ll be leaving two of the xenospecialists with you,” Susan added. Prince Henry had requested permission to stay on Unity, but Susan had vetoed it. “They’ll continue to study the alien POWs. I hear they’re making progress in cracking their language already.”

  Yegorovich barked a harsh laugh. “The bastards have every reason to cooperate,” he commented, nastily. “They have to tell us what they actually need to live.”

  Susan nodded. The xenospecialists thought they knew what the aliens needed - and the aliens certainly seemed to be having no problems eating human rations - but there was no way to be entirely sure. And besides, having the ability to ask for better conditions would give the interrogators a chance to make connections with individual aliens. They might be shocked by their defeat, they might be submissive ... but there was no reason to think that would last forever. Having a rapport between humans and aliens might make the difference between putting together a peace that both sides could endure and continuing the war to the bitter end.

  “Of course,” she said. “We’ll be taking a number of aliens back home with us.”

  “The soldiers will love that,” Trodden muttered, darkly.

  “We have to learn to understand them,” Susan said. “If nothing else, we have to know how to make them quit.”

  “Hit them hard,” Yegorovich said. “They’re a lot like Russians, you know.”

  Susan lifted her eyebrows. “How so?”

  “My people are either masters or slaves,” Yegorovich said. “And if you can convince one of us that you’re the master, he’ll think he’s the slave.”

  “That says a lot about you,” Trodden said. “And to think there was a time when your country was once called the freest in the world.”

  “A mistake,” Yegorovich said. “A foolish mistake.”

  Susan sighed. “Be that as it may, we have other concerns,” she said. “We’ll be departing in two days. And then you’ll be on your own.”

  “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 wh
ile 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.