Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7)
Page 42
They stepped into the sleeping compartment, which was empty. “We would normally have a small party,” Fraser said, softly. “But I really don’t feel like partying, you know?”
“You can at least have a drink,” George said, after a moment. “There's some rotgut hidden away in the locker, isn't there?”
“The Captain knew it was there,” Fraser said. “She was a midshipwoman herself, once upon a time. I think she’d know precisely where we hide shit.”
George flushed. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Depends,” Fraser said. “If it causes problems, then it’s a bad thing; if it doesn’t, it’s tolerable.”
He sat down on his bunk, staring at the bulkhead. “George ... can I tell you something important?”
George frowned. That didn't sound good.
“Yes, she said, finally.
“You and Peter, Peter Barton,” Fraser said. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
“We’re friends,” George protested, although she knew that wasn't entirely true. “What I do with him is my own business.”
Fraser looked up at her. “Not if it affects the ship,” he said. “George, you’re a midshipwoman; you’ll grow into an officer soon, unless you fuck up so badly it can't possibly be concealed. Even now, you are his superior ...”
“Technically,” George said.
“It isn't technical and you know it,” Fraser said. “Yes, you shouldn't be issuing him or Gunner Simpson orders because you know much less than they do, but you're still their superior officer. In two years, perhaps less, you’ll be a lieutenant. At that point, you’ll be issuing orders to your lover.”
“He isn't my lover,” George insisted.
Fraser scowled. “Is he going to be?”
He tapped his foot on the deck, impatiently. “I understand the urge for companionship,” he said, “and I understand the desire to have ... intimate relationships with someone. But a relationship between an officer and a crewman, a man who will be under the officer’s command, can fuck up everything. You could compromise yourself so badly that you’ll be disgraced and your career will come to an end.”
George bit down the response that came to mind. She liked Barton, she liked spending time with him, watching movies or just chatting about the future. And they had been discussing plans to take their shore leave together, when they finally returned to Earth. She hadn't kissed him yet, but she knew in her bones that it was just a matter of time. It was easy to imagine kissing him under the moonlight on some tropical resort ...
“You have to be careful,” Fraser told her. “If you are caught, if you are lucky, the two of you will be summarily reassigned to different ships. If you are unlucky” - his voice hardened - “you’ll be dishonourably discharged from the service. Maybe that won’t be a problem for you, with a wealthy family, but what will that be like for him?”
“That’s below the belt,” George snapped.
“I’m glad to know some of my lessons took,” Fraser said. He reached out and patted her shoulder. “If you want to get fucked, go to Sin City. There’s no shortage of dicks on legs ready to give you a damn good hammering. Safe, clean and discreet. But if you want companionship, stay friends for now.”
George stared at him. “That’s ...”
“Crude?” Fraser asked. “Yes, it is. It’s also true.”
He rose. “You’ve gone too far already, I think,” he said. “He doesn't think of you as an officer, but a potential lover. It’s not going to be easy to assert yourself later. My very strong advice would be to call it off, now.”
George watched helplessly as he strode out of the hatch, leaving her alone. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. A relationship with a crewman under her command could destroy her career ... and, despite herself, she knew her uncle wouldn’t save her if she disgraced herself so blatantly. He’d be far more likely to leave her as an object lesson to the next generation of midshipmen.
Shit, she thought, staring down at the deck. She felt miserable, torn between two different urges. What the hell do I do now?
***
“Captain, we have entered orbit around Titan,” Mason said, through the intercom. “A shuttle is en route and the occupant has requested that you meet him at the airlock.”
“Understood,” Susan said. “How long until he docks?”
“He’ll be at Airlock One in ten minutes,” Mason said. “Captain ...”
“I’ll be there,” Susan said, cutting him off. She didn't want to hear any commiserations or anything else, not now. She’d done everything she could to ensure that the consequences, whatever they were, fell on her shoulders alone. “Thank you.”
She cut the connection and rose, taking one last look at the Ready Room. Most of Captain Blake’s clobber had been moved out, giving her space to actually work. It was hers now, but not for much longer. She would be surprised if she was allowed to return to duty in less than six months, assuming she wasn't summarily discharged. Someone else would sit in the command chair, someone else would take command of the ship ... although it would be months, at least, before the battleship was fit for combat. She’d made sure that the list of repairs was in order.
At least I had a chance to send a message to father, she thought, as she walked out of the compartment and down towards the airlock. He'll hear it from me first.
She stopped outside the airlock, just as the red light flicked green. The hatch opened a second later, revealing a grim-faced man wearing a Commodore’s uniform, escorted by two military policemen. Both of the redcaps wore holsters at their belts, the flaps unbuttoned. It was not a reassuring sight.
The Commodore stepped forward. “Susan Onarina?”
“Yes, sir,” Susan said. No rank ... that didn't bode well. “Reporting as ordered.”
“I am Commodore Douglas Archer, Royal Navy Military Police,” Archer said. “It is my duty to inform you that I am taking you into custody, pending a full investigation into your conduct on HMS Vanguard. You have the right to remain silent, but any and all cooperation you offer between now and your formal hearing will be counted in your favour. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Susan said.
“As of now, you are relieved of command,” Archer continued. “You will be held on my shuttle until you can be transferred to RMP Titan. Although you are not technically under arrest, I would advise you to comport yourself as though you are. A legal officer will be assigned to you at Titan; until then, you may not talk to anyone save for myself and other RNMP personnel. Any attempt to do so through any means will result in you being restrained and held in a cell, rather than reasonably decent quarters.”
He nodded to his escorts. Susan briefly considered resistance, but she knew it would be suicidal. Instead, she let them search her with practiced ease, then lead her through the hatch and into the shuttlecraft. Inside, a handful of officers - an emergency command crew, she realised - eyed her curiously as she was marched through the craft and sat at the far end, one of her escorts sitting near her.
Behind her, the hatch slammed closed.
End Of Book One
HMS Vanguard And Her Crew Will Return In:
Fear God And Dread Naught
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.]
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.
Clobber - stuff/junk.
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
Skive - Avoid work
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.
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
Table of Contents
Cover Blurb
Author’s Note
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Appendix: Glossary of UK Terms and Slang