Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I hope it won’t be for long,” he said, finally. “But they can't stay here.”

  Janelle scowled, but didn't argue. She knew as well as he did just how rapidly the fronts could shift, just how quickly a safe haven could turn into a death trap. Earth herself had been attacked during the war. The new aliens, whoever they were, might think nothing of scorching an entire world.

  “Then they go somewhere safe and isolated on Earth,” she said, finally. “Somewhere under heavy guard.”

  “They will,” Henry said. He gritted his teeth. An asteroid settlement would be better, but his children didn’t know how to live on one. “And I’ll make sure the reporters don’t get anywhere near them.”

  He scowled, bitterly. The hell of it was that he doubted he could keep that promise. Three young girls, heirs to the throne even if their father had refused to stay in the Line of Succession ... they’d be hounded by the media on Earth. Tadpole Prime was private; reporters were rarely allowed to visit, certainly not for such a minor matter. And yet ... he was damned if his daughters were growing up in a goldfish bowl. His childhood had never been private. And his sister had had it worse.

  “See that you don’t,” Janelle said. “I’ll geld any reporter who looks at them funny.”

  Henry smiled. “You would, too.”

  He reached for her and kissed her. It wouldn't be long before the girls came home, it wouldn't be long before they had to tell their children that they were going away for a while, but he refused to waste a single second. They’d be far too busy on Earth.

  ***

  “You know,” Fraser said. “This place is paradise.”

  George gave him a sharp look. Tadpole Prime was uncomfortably hot, after spending her life in Britain, Luna and Vanguard. She’d borrowed a swimming costume from one of the settlers and slathered her exposed skin in suntan oil, but it wasn't enough to make her feel any better about the environment. But, she did have to admit, white sands, blue waters and green tropical trees were quite spectacular.

  “It’s too hot,” she said, finally. She sighed as she shifted, feeling the sun beating down on her skin. “Why do you like it?”

  Fraser laughed. They’d been lucky enough to win a few hours of leave on the planet, although the permission had been hedged with so many warnings and restrictions that she was reluctant to risk going for a swim. The Tadpoles might have cleared the nearby waters of anything dangerous, but their definition of ‘dangerous’ was very different from humanity’s and she’d seen too many nasty-looking critters crawling along the shore.

  “The dress code,” he said. “Have you seen how many topless girls there are?”

  “And shirtless men,” George countered. “I think they don’t notice, these days.”

  She smiled, inwardly. It had taken her months to get used to undressing in front of her male comrades - and watching them undressing in front of her - but now the thought of doing anything with a bunkmate was unthinkable. They were her brothers and sisters, to all intents and purposes; she knew better than to even consider a relationship. And, on Tadpole Prime, the settlers were so used to near-nudity that they simply ignored it.

  Probably a good thing too, she thought. Not all of the men and women I’ve seen look good in shorts or bikinis.

  “All the more for us,” Fraser announced, cheerfully. “You think I could talk one of them into bed?”

  “This isn't a normal shore leave outpost,” George said. From what she’d been told, there were brothels and bars in every normal shore leave outpost. “You have to be careful who you approach.”

  “I can try,” Fraser said. His eyes swept the beach, past the point where a number of crewmen were kicking a ball around the sand up to a handful of young ladies, sunbathing near the waters. “You want to see if you can find someone too?”

  George shook her head. In truth, she just wanted to relax and unwind. Nathan was dead ... and she knew she needed to come to terms with it, something she couldn't do until she took the remainder of his possessions back home. And then there had been the other losses ... she leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing she could forget about everything. But she knew that wasn't possible.

  “Hey, George,” a voice called.

  Her eyes snapped open. Barton was standing there carrying a ball under his arm, wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. His leg was still inhumanly pale and there were a handful of dragon and whale tattoos on his chest. She smiled at him, despite the brilliant sunlight. It was good to know that he’d recovered from his stay in sickbay.

  “I nicked a ball,” Barton said. “Want to come play with it?”

  George hesitated, then rose. Maybe it would be fun. She’d played on beaches as a child, although that had come to an end when she’d turned thirteen. Her mother had wanted to be damn sure that George would turn into a sweet little girl, just waiting for a handsome man to marry her. That, at least, hadn't worked. She wondered, as she grabbed for the ball, just what her mother would think of her now. Playing ball on the beach with a crewman of no family name? It would give the older woman a heart attack.

  And if it gave my headmistress a heart attack, George thought, remembering Mrs Blackthorn and her insistence on proper deportment at all times, I wouldn't mind in the slightest.

  “You’re good at this,” Barton said, after an hour of tossing the ball around. Fraser had vanished long ago, perhaps to woo the settler women. “Want to go exploring?”

  George considered it, briefly. There was little to explore, she thought; the settled island wasn't much larger than Skye, if warmer and far wetter. The settlement itself was fenced in, although they’d been assured there was nothing on the island that posed a threat to careful explorers. It wasn't the most reassuring statement she’d ever heard.

  And if you do go with him, she asked herself, what do you do if he tries to kiss you?

  She cursed, then looked up. “I need to be back on the ship within twenty minutes,” she said, glancing at her wristcom. Being late wouldn't impress the Captain, particularly when there were hundreds of others waiting patiently in line for their chance to relax in the sun. “But we can go get an ice cream before it’s too late.”

  “Of course,” Barton said. “You know they give ice cream away for free?”

  “Very few people here to buy it,” George guessed. Producing ice cream by the bucket would hardly be difficult. There was a large farm on the other side of the human settlement, raising sheep, cows, chickens and pigs. “They probably made it for us specially.”

  “I hope so,” Barton said. He held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  “I have reviewed your logs, Captain,” Colonel Hoffman said. He was the embassy’s current military attaché, Susan had been told, although he was British Army rather than Royal Navy. “I confess that there are strong reasons to support your actions and strong reasons to lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “Yes, sir,” Susan said, shortly. She couldn't help feeling embarrassed - she was wearing her uniform while he was wearing shorts - but she hadn't been able to bring herself to walk into the office in a swimming outfit. “I understand.”

  She sighed, inwardly. She’d expected a senior naval officer, but apparently Commodore Chambers had been attached to Admiral Boskone when his carrier had been blown into dust. There had been so many dead that she hadn't even noticed at the time. Hoffman was in command until the Admiralty sent out a replacement. And, given that there was a war on, it might be months before the replacement arrived.

  “Captain Harper has signed off on Vanguard’s return to Earth,” Hoffman continued. “Your ship requires repairs, does she not?”

  “Yes, sir,” Susan said. “Earth or Britannia are the only places Vanguard can be serviced properly.”

  “Then I think it would be best if you took her back to Earth,” Hoffman said. “For what it’s worth, Captain, I believe you did the right thing. I will appraise the Admiralty of my feelings, but they may not pay much attention to
me. The Army wouldn't be too charmed if a naval officer presumed to tell them their jobs either.”

  “I understand, sir,” Susan said. She sighed, out loud this time. At least she’d have command until the battleship reached Earth, plenty of time to make basic repairs, analyse the sensor records and make recommendations for future modifications. “And thank you for listening to me.”

  “I wish it were under better circumstances,” Hoffman said. “Half the diplomats and their families will be travelling with you, Captain. I’m not quite sure what I should be doing, if the shit hits the fan.”

  “This settlement is a rather large target,” Susan agreed. It wasn't the only one - Tadpole Prime was surrounded by more asteroid colonies and industrial nodes than Earth - but it was certainly the largest visible settlement on the ground. “Are you planning to make a stand?”

  “There’s very little in the way of actual weaponry,” Hoffman admitted. “Counting everyone with military training, I have forty-seven men who can be armed with rifles. It would be fewer if the Americans didn’t insist on teaching kids to shoot in school. Even so, a single KEW would blot the settlement out of existence. I have a feeling that evacuating now might be the best possible choice.”

  He shrugged. “But you don’t need to worry about that,” he added. “Best of luck with the Admiralty, Captain.”

  “Thank you,” Susan said.

  She saluted him, then walked out of the door and up to the shuttlepad. Vanguard’s shuttle was sitting there, waiting for her. She waved to the pilot, motioning for him to wait as she turned to survey the settlement. The handful of white buildings stood out like sore thumbs against the greenery, making easy targets if anyone gained control of the high orbitals. But they would have problems finding the Tadpoles, she was sure. Even the best orbital sensors couldn't detect underwater cities.

  And it all looks so peaceful, she thought. The waves lapping against the white beaches seemed harmless, even though she knew there were thousands of dangerous creatures lurking below the waves. What will happen when the aliens arrive?

  She took one last look, then stepped into the shuttle. “Take us back to orbit,” she ordered, as she buckled herself into the seat. Tadpole Prime was noted for heavy turbulence. She’d been lucky enough to have a reasonably gentle flight, but some of the crewmen had staggered out of their shuttle swearing never to fly again. “We’re going home.”

  Chapter Forty

  “Jump completed, Captain,” Reed said. “We have entered the Sol System.”

  Susan nodded. “Transmit a full copy of our records to Nelson Base,” she ordered, “along with the datapackets from Tadpole Prime.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

  “Very good,” Susan said. She rose. “Commander Mason, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my Ready Room.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Mason said. “I have the bridge.”

  Susan could have sworn the temperature was dropping as she walked through the hatch and into her Ready Room. They knew - they all knew - that it was time to face the music. Susan had done her best to protect her subordinates, but even a cursory investigation would turn up the simple fact that mutiny had been discussed - and that none of the officers involved had reported the matter to higher authority. Prince Henry’s authority might turn out to be spurious, at best.

  She keyed her wristcom as soon as she sat down behind the desk. “Midshipman Fraser, Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam, report to my Ready Room,” she ordered.

  The two junior officers, if matters had been arranged to her satisfaction, should have no trouble in coming at once. She waited, idly scanning a datapad until the door buzzer sounded, then keyed the switch to open the hatch. It hissed open, revealing both of the midshipmen. They both looked understandably nervous. A summons from the Captain was almost certainly bad news, even though Susan had been doing most of the XO duties as well as serving as commanding officer.

  “Stand at ease,” Susan ordered, as they stood to attention in front of her desk. They relaxed, so slightly the motion was barely noticeable. “There are matters we need to discuss.”

  She waited, wondering if one of them would say something, but heard nothing. It was hard to blame them, really. She was so far above them that even being right wouldn't be much of a defence, if their commanding officer took offense. One day, they’d be XOs and captains themselves, she was sure. She hoped they wouldn't forget what it was like to be a junior officer when they pinned the command star to their collars.

  Susan cleared her throat. “Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam,” she said. “Gunnery Officer Fitzroy Simpson has put in a request that you be formally commended for your actions in the Battle of UXS-469. I have reviewed the records and chosen to grant his request. A special commendation will be entered into your file, which will be taken into consideration when the promotion board meets to discuss your future.”

  Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam’s face showed a multitude of different emotions. Pride, sadness ... a kind of shame, something that would have made no sense if Susan hadn't caught the look she’d shot at Midshipman Fraser. They definitely were getting along better since the fight, Susan thought; it would be a shame if a commendation, one that was worth a full year of seniority in middy country, came between them. But, right now, it couldn't be helped.

  “I have also entered your name into the logbook as a potential recipient of the Victoria Cross, although that matter will have to be decided at a far higher level than mine,” Susan added. It was true enough, but there were too many nominations from the contact fleet for her to be sure that George Fitzwilliam would have a chance at an award. “However, even being considered for the medal will be a feather in your cap.”

  She met Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam’s eyes. “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam stammered.

  Susan nodded, then looked at Midshipman Fraser. “Commander Mason and Lieutenant Reed have both spoken highly of you over the last month,” she said. “In addition, Chief Finch has insisted that you be commended for your work on the damage control parties, during the Battle of Tadpole-453. I have looked over both the recordings and the records and I find that a commendation is nowhere near enough for your services. Therefore, I am promoting you to Lieutenant, effective from midnight tonight.”

  Midshipman Fraser’s mouth dropped open. “Captain?”

  “I am promoting you to Lieutenant,” Susan repeated, with some amusement. Midshipman Fraser had clearly spent years convinced that he wouldn't be promoted. Susan still had no idea why he’d incurred the hostility of a senior officer, but it hardly mattered. Midshipman Fraser had done well over the last year. “You can pick up the uniform from ship’s stores now, if you wish. They’re expecting you.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Midshipman Fraser stammered.

  “A formal commendation has also been added to your file,” Susan added. “As it is quite likely that you helped save the ship, I have recommended you for both the Victoria Cross and the Sinclair Award. Chief Finch has counter-signed the latter.”

  She smiled at them both. “I have no idea what will happen after we reach Earth,” she concluded, “but I wish you both the very best in your future careers. Dismissed!”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Midshipman Fraser said. “I ...”

  Susan shook her head in amusement as Midshipman Fitzwilliam helped Midshipman Fraser out of the Ready Room. Midshipman Fraser wouldn't be Lieutenant Fraser until midnight - a legal fiction to allow him to celebrate with his former bunkmates before he moved to his new quarters - but he would stay a lieutenant. Susan might be put in front of a court martial board and shot; Fraser couldn't be demoted without good cause. Even if the Admiralty tried, they’d have to explain it to Fraser’s supporters on the ship.

  And the Sinclair Award is only handed out by engineers, she thought. Chief Finch’s endorsement will make damn sure he gets it.

  Her wristcom bleeped. “Captain,” Parkinson said. “We’ve picked up a secur
e message from Earth. We are to head to Titan and enter orbit until we receive further orders. A team of investigators has already been dispatched.”

  “Understood,” Susan said. Two hours to Titan, she thought; two hours before she had to face the music. “Inform Commander Mason that he is to set course for Titan at once.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

  ***

  “I’m a lieutenant?”

  George had to smile at Fraser’s shock. “Yes, you’re a lieutenant,” she said. He’d been babbling in shock all the way back to middy country. “Well, technically you’re still a midshipman until midnight, but ...”

  “Oh, shut up,” Fraser said, without heat. “I’m a lieutenant!”

  He sobered. “But where will I go now?”

  George shrugged. Fraser, at least, wouldn't have a problem being promoted up the ladder on Vanguard. He’d been first middy, after all; there had been a distance between him and his bunkmates, no matter how much they might have wished to deny it. But he’d grown friendlier after they’d fought ... maybe he’d be better on another ship. And yet, she didn't really want to lose him.