Susan nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Vanguard will, of course, require time in the yards,” the First Space Lord added. “I’d prefer it if you were to make yourself available to the analysts on Nelson Base. They are still crunching the data, but they could make use of your perspective.”
“I understand, sir,” Susan said. Mason was not going to be pleased, but she knew better than to think it was a request. “I’m due to attend the funeral ceremony at Arlington tomorrow for New York and her crew, visiting my father on the way, but after that I will be happy to transfer to Nelson Base.”
“Admiral Harper’s death was a shame,” the First Space Lord said. “He deserved better.”
“Yes, sir,” Susan said. She had no doubt that her career would have gone straight into the crapper, if Harper had made a fuss about her assumption of command during the first catastrophic battle. “He was a good man.”
And so were his crew, she thought, privately. None of them deserved to die like that.
“He was,” the First Space Lord agreed. He gave her a tired smile. “Before you go, you should know that both Henderson and Wheeler requested to emigrate from Earth.”
Susan nodded, slowly. She hadn't expected anything else, at least not from Henderson. The odds of surviving ten years in Colchester were low, particularly for someone accused of borderline treason. One of the inmates would stick a knife between his ribs if he wasn't kept in solitary confinement, yet the guards couldn't be relied upon to do what it took to protect him. They’d hate Henderson too. But Wheeler ...
The girl had promise, she told herself, sharply. But she chose to throw it away.
It felt like a personal failure. She knew, deep inside, that it would always feel like a personal failure. She’d been Felicity Wheeler’s commanding officer. There would never be a time when she didn't ask herself, deep inside, if there was something she could have done. But she knew, no matter how much she wished to deny it, that Felicity had dug her own grave. The navy had trained her, the navy had trusted her ...
... And she’d let the navy down.
Vanguard would need new middies, she thought. Both Simon Potter and Paula Spurgeon had requested and received transfers off Vanguard, rather than staying on the battleship. Susan wasn't too sorry to see the back of Simon Potter - Mason’s reports hadn't made him sound like a very good person - but Paula Spurgeon had been considered reliable. And if she’d stayed, despite ... irregularities in her past, she might well have been First Middy. George Fitzwilliam simply didn't have the seniority any longer.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, finally.
The First Space Lord nodded. “Dismissed, Captain,” he said. “And, once again, well done.”
Susan rose and took her leave.
***
The First Space Lord waited until Prince Henry had also left, then he keyed a specific code into his console. Moments later, one of the partitions slid back to reveal a hidden door, concealed behind a painting of Ark Royal. His predecessor had had a surprising sense of the dramatic, Admiral Sir James Montrose Fitzwilliam had always thought, but he had to admit that the secret passageways could be useful. There were some secrets that even his aides weren't privy to.
Paula Spurgeon stepped through the hatch, her long blonde hair tied back in a bun. She was still wearing her middy’s uniform, James noted, but she’d been careful to remove her ship’s name and anything else that might link her to Vanguard. Perhaps she was being paranoid, he thought, yet some secrets could only remain secret if only a handful of people knew them. If her identity became common knowledge, she wouldn't be anything like as effective.
“Commander,” he said. “I trust you enjoyed your voyage?”
“It was interesting,” Commander Paula Spurgeon, Royal Navy Intelligence, said. “I actually quite enjoyed some parts of it. Pretending to be young again ...”
She smiled, rather thinly. “Your niece is learning,” she added. “Maybe not as quickly as you would prefer, but she is learning.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” James said. “But she wasn't who I asked you to watch.”
Paula nodded. “As per orders,” she said, her tone markedly more formal, “I kept a close eye on Captain Onarina and her crew. There was no evidence that they were up to anything beyond the normal duties expected of a naval crew. I was unable to eavesdrop on some of their more private conversations, but there were no hints of conspiracy or any plan to either subvert Admiral Harper’s command or mutiny against the crown. Captain Onarina comported herself as a commanding officer should.”
“That’s a relief,” James said. He hadn't wanted to assign a watchdog to Vanguard’s crew, but a number of his people had insisted. There was no escaping the fact that Captain Onarina had committed mutiny, even if it was in a good cause. “Do you feel it’s worth continuing the surveillance?”
“I don’t believe so,” Paula said. “I would have expected her to exclude Granger and the other newcomers from her conferences, if there was a conspiracy underway. She did not, despite the fact that Granger was not her first choice for tactical officer. The ship endured problems, of course, but none of them can reasonably be blamed on her.”
She shook her head. “In short, every instinct I have tells me that Captain Onarina may be willing to bend the rulebook a few times, but she isn't plotting another mutiny - or worse.”
James nodded. “Did you come close to being detected?”
“Perhaps,” Paula said. “Your niece did seem to think there was something odd about me, even though I did - eventually - give her the cover story. My decision to surrender the wardroom to her probably looked a little odd.”
“It would have done,” James agreed. No midshipman with dreams of wearing a lieutenant’s uniform would ever meekly surrender the wardroom. “But she didn't ask too many questions?”
“None,” Paula said. “Really, she was too busy riding herd on Potter. The boy is a complete spoiled arse.”
“No doubt,” James said.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll expect your full report by the end of the week,” he added. “Until then, dismissed.”
Paula saluted, then left the room. James watched the hidden hatch slide back into place, then keyed his console. If there was nothing wrong with Vanguard and her crew, it was time to start planning for offensive operations of his own.
The hatch opened. Commodore John Naiser and Captain Juliet Watson-Stewart stepped into the compartment. James rose to his feet to greet them, accepting their salutes before shaking their hands. The man who had built Vanguard - and the woman who had revolutionised tramline theory - deserved more than a little respect.
“John,” he said, as he motioned for them to sit. “How’s the husband?”
“We’re doing fine,” Naiser said. “Philip is currently looking for a tutoring post, after we were called back to Earth.”
“I may know someone in need of a tutor,” James said, as his aide brought a tray of tea and biscuits. “I’ll put in a good word for him, if you like.
He accepted a cup of tea, then waited for his aide to leave before continuing. “I assume you’ve read the reports from Unity and Tadpole-45?”
“Yes, sir,” Naiser said. “They were very detailed.”
“We may have a theory to account for their FTL communications,” Juliet said. Her voice was very quiet, even though married life had given her more self-confidence. “We know that it’s possible to vibrate the tramlines. They may have a way to cause them to resonate at a distance.”
James frowned. “How is that even possible?”
“The tramlines do react to gravity wells,” Juliet said. “And we know it is possible to generate a pseudo-gravity field. They may have a way to use one to send messages down a tramline.”
“But we don’t know how,” Naiser said, quickly.
“Not yet,” Juliet said. “We can and we will unlock the secret, Admiral.”
“Glad to hear it,” James said. “It so happens that we mig
ht have a way to give the aliens a good hard kick up the arse. If, of course, we can get political clearance to proceed. But it will require some new hardware from you.
“And if Prince Henry is right,” he added, “one good hard kick up the arse is all we will need.”
End of Book Two
HMS Vanguard will return in:
We Lead
Coming Soon
Appendix: Glossary of UK Terms and Slang
[Author’s Note: I’ve tried to define every incident of specifically UK slang in this glossary, but I can’t promise to have spotted everything. If you spot something I’ve missed, please let me know and it will be included.]
Aggro - slang term for aggression or trouble, as in ‘I don’t want any aggro.’
Beasting/Beasted - military slang for anything from a chewing out by one’s commander to outright corporal punishment or hazing. The latter two are now officially banned.
Binned - SAS slang for a prospective recruit being kicked from the course, then returned to unit (RTU).
Boffin - Scientist
Bootnecks - slang for Royal Marines. Loosely comparable to ‘Jarhead.’
Bottle - slang for nerve, as in ‘lost his bottle.’
Borstal - a school/prison for young offenders.
Donkey Wallopers - slang for the Royal Horse Artillery.
Fortnight - two weeks. (Hence the terrible pun, courtesy of the Goon Show, that Fort Knight cannot possibly last three weeks.)
‘Get stuck into’ - ‘start fighting.’
‘I should coco’ - ‘you’re damned right.’
Kip - sleep.
Levies - native troops. The Ghurkhas are the last remnants of native troops from British India.
Lorries - trucks.
MOD - Ministry of Defence. (The UK’s Pentagon.)
Panda Cola - Coke as supplied by the British Army to the troops.
RFA - Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Rumbled - discovered/spotted.
SAS - Special Air Service.
SBS - Special Boat Service
Spotted Dick - a traditional fruity sponge pudding with suet, citrus zest and currants served in thick slices with hot custard. The name always caused a snigger.
Squaddies - slang for British soldiers.
Stag - guard duty.
TAB (tab/tabbing) - Tactical Advance to Battle.
Tearaway - boisterous/badly behaved child, normally a teenager.
Walt - Poser, i.e. someone who claims to have served in the military and/or a very famous regiment. There’s a joke about 22 SAS being the largest regiment in the British Army - it must be, because of all the people who claim to have served in it.
Wanker - Masturbator (jerk-off). Commonly used as an insult.
Wanking - Masturbating.
Yank/Yankee - Americans
Coming Soon From Chris Kennedy!
The Dark Star War Cover Blurb
The war with the Shaitans continues, and Lieutenant Commander Shawn ‘Calvin’ Hobbs has stayed behind to help the reptilian Ssselipsssiss race fight the Shaitans while his ship, the TSS Vella Gulf, has gone for aid. Formerly enemies, Calvin now finds himself supporting the Ssselipsssiss in their war against the Shaitans in a “must-win” situation. If the Ssselipsssiss fall, Terra is next!
Able to operate in two universes and armed with unavoidable time-based weapons, the Shaitans have proven unstoppable. Although Calvin has experience fighting the Shaitans, the Ssselipsssiss are down to their last three planets, and Calvin’s assistance may very well be too little, too late.
The only ship with any success against the Shaitans is the Vella Gulf, which can jump to the Shaitans’ universe and fight them on their own turf. But time is short; will the crew of the Vella Gulf be able to find the mysterious “Dark Star” system of the Shaitans and stop them before they destroy Terra?
Faced with an implacable foe, the Terrans have been forced into an alliance where the enemy of their enemy might be their friend…or might not. The crew of the Vella Gulf will have to choose their allies wisely as the stakes are the highest possible—only one race will survive the Dark Star War!
The Dark Star War
Chapter One
Bridge, Harvest of Flesh, Sssellississ System, December 12, 2021
All eyes turned toward Calvin as he strode onto the bridge of the Ssselipsssiss ship. Although he’d been onboard for over a week, Terran time, it was the first time he’d been allowed on the bridge. Or pretty much anywhere else. Considering the lizard-like creatures had invited, no, demanded Calvin come with them, they really weren’t making him feel very welcome. None of the Ssselipsssiss said a word; the only sound was a hiss from the lizard sitting in the central chair.
Calvin’s only companion during the journey had been the Aesir Farhome, with infrequent visits from Ssselipsssiss Ambassador Gresss. The elf-like Farhome was only partly sane, on a good day; he was not the best traveling companion. After a week, Calvin was starting to doubt his own sanity.
Lieutenant Commander Shawn Hobbs, or ‘Calvin’ to his friends, still wasn’t sure why he was even on the disgustingly-named battleship. Certainly, he was a hostage the Ssselipsssiss were using to make sure the crew of Calvin’s ship, the Terran Space Ship (TSS) Vella Gulf, didn’t bring a Mrowry invasion force with them when they returned. The lizards had already lost most of their territory in the current war, including their capital, and they were desperately clinging to their last few systems. A Mrowry invasion would have wiped them out.
Based on what Calvin had seen so far, though, it didn’t look like the Ssselipsssiss would be able to hold their remaining systems without outside help. Given that they’d fired on the Terrans unprovoked the first time the two races met, Calvin wasn’t sure that their annihilation was such a bad idea.
Unless their enemy was worse and, in this case, it looked like it was.
Based on the enemy’s tactics, it appeared the Ssselipsssiss were fighting the same alien race, the Shaitans, that the Terrans were. If so, the Ssselipsssiss could almost be seen as Terra’s friends. Well, probably not ‘friends,’ but maybe they could be considered allies…at least until their war with the Shaitans ended.
The Terrans and the Ssselipsssiss would probably have to redefine their relationship after the war, assuming they were both still around. That appeared unlikely, as no one had been able to stop the Shaitans’ advance; so far, the best the Terrans had been able to achieve was a stalemate with them in the Aesir’s home system.
The Shaitan race lived in another universe and only jumped into the Terran universe to fight. The ability to jump back to their own universe made them hard to fight, because the Shaitans could determine where and when to accept battle. The fact that they had weapons which distorted time also caused…issues.
“I think what Captain Skrelleth meant,” Ambassador Gresss said, “was, ‘Welcome to the bridge.’” At seven and a half feet tall, the ambassador was an impressive sight. Maroon in color, the bipedal lizard wore a red velvet robe with black trim, along with what looked like black stretch pants. The robe had a small golden patch on the left side that announced his ambassadorial rank, as well as a large amount of gold jewelry around his neck and wrists.
The ship’s captain turned to glare at Calvin, his eyes glowing like the ends of two lit cigarettes. He hissed again and said, “What the captain really meant was, ‘Your presence pollutes the sanctity of my vessel and is an affront to everything I feel is good and holy.’”
“Out of curiosity, Captain Skrelleth, how many times have you fought the enemy?” Calvin asked.
“I have fought them twice,” the captain replied.
“I see,” Calvin said. “And how many of their ships did you destroy in those encounters?”
“We haven’t been able to destroy any of them,” Captain Skrelleth admitted, “although we did get a couple of laser hits on one last time. We were close to destroying it, but then it disappeared.”
Calvin nodded his head. “And during thos
e two battles, how many ships did you lose?’
“We lost nine ships, including four battleships,” the captain said.
“And your capital planet?”
“Yesss. It fell in the last battle. Its loss was unavoidable.”
“So let me get this straight, captain. You’ve lost nine ships in two battles, your capital planet has been captured by the enemy and you have only succeeded in hitting an enemy ship twice. You didn’t destroy two ships; you just scored two hits on a single enemy ship. Is that correct?”
Fear God and Dread Naught Page 41
