Ark Royal (16 page)

Sighing, Ted walked over to greet him anyway.  It had been two years since they’d last met, when the Japanese officer had managed to convince the Royal Navy to give him a tour of
Ark Royal
.  Ted had wondered, in all seriousness, if the Japanese Navy intended to build their own armoured carriers, but nothing had ever materialised.  Under the circumstances, he decided, that seemed something of a pity.

“Congratulations on your victory,” the Japanese officer said.  “I wish to hear all about it.”

***

James had grown up in an aristocratic family, although he liked to think that he had made it into the navy on his own abilities.  As boring as aristocratic parties could be – and the reception was organised on the same principles – they were also an excellent chance to network.  He took a glass of water this time – getting tipsy could still be embarrassing, if not disastrous – and moved from person to person, keeping an eye on the other crewmen as he did.  Not all of them had any experience in parties and the last thing he wanted was to have to get them out of trouble.

“Ah, I hear you did well for yourself after all,” a voice said.  “Good show!”

James turned to see his Uncle Winchester, a retired naval officer of fifty years experience.  The grizzled old man had been one of the prime influences on his life, James had to admit, although he hadn't listened to everything the older man had taught him.  Trying to force his way into command of
Ark Royal
was something certain to annoy Uncle Winchester ... and the fact it had blown up in James’s face certain to amuse him.

“Yes, Uncle,” he said, remembering the models of carriers and escort vessels his uncle had given him as a child.  Some of them had been remarkably impractical, others prospective designs for future naval development.  Uncle Winchester, if he recalled correctly,  had actually had a hand in developing the modern carriers the aliens had torn apart.  “I have learnt a great deal from Captain Smith.”

“Glad to hear it,” Uncle Winchester said.  He placed a hand on James’s arm, half-pushing him towards a side room.  “You have to learn to walk before you can run.”

The sound of the band cut off the moment the door closed.  James hesitated, then turned to face his uncle.  The side rooms were often used for backroom dealing between people who could never be seen together in public, although there was no reason he couldn't speak to his uncle anywhere.  But then another door opened and the First Space Lord entered the room.

“Be seated,” the First Space Lord ordered, shortly.  “We don’t have much time.”

James swallowed and obeyed, feeling suddenly very unsure of his own ground.  He’d used the Old Boys Network to push the First Space Lord into promoting him, only to discover that his pressure only went so far.  In hindsight, he knew, Captain Smith had been entirely correct to point out that James was hardly ready for command of a modern carrier, let alone an ancient ship held together by improvised fixes and scrounged spare parts.  But it would be years, he suspected, before he was ever allowed to forget that he’d tried to snatch command out of the hands of his current CO.

“I need to ask you a question,” the First Space Lord continued, once he'd taken a seat facing James.  Uncle Winchester sat to the side, his eyes never leaving James’s face.  “Is Captain Smith suitable for command?”

James stared at him, unable to keep his shock off his face.  Asking an XO to comment on his Captain’s fitness for command was a severe breach of naval etiquette.  If the CO found out, it would shatter the trust between him and his XO, trust that had already been weakened by James’s attempt to snatch command for himself.  There
were
situations when an XO could legally relieve the Captain of command, but they tended to result in the XO’s career coming to a screeching halt.  If the Admiralty had their doubts, they should have sent in an investigative officer.

He realised, suddenly, just how poor the Admiralty’s position actually
was
.  They’d found it impossible to push a knighted officer into early requirement, so they’d given him
Ark Royal
and left him to his own devices.  Instead of drinking himself to death, Smith had kept
Ark Royal
functional; the starship had barely needed a month of intensive work to return to full combat-worthy status.  And then Smith had pulled off a victory that had made him the world’s man of the hour.  The media was already comparing him to Drake, Nelson, Cunningham and Singh.  If the Admiralty had wanted to relieve him of command, they would have to explain it to the media ... and to politicians, eager to make political hay at the Admiralty’s expense.

Smith had been lucky, James knew, feeling an odd flicker of amusement.  The reporters had dug up some of his file, including his drinking problem, but they’d spun it into a morality tale about a hero overcoming his issues and defending Britain against outside attack.  And it wasn't just Britain either.  Smith was a hero right across the world.  Maybe, just maybe, the media would sour, but until then Smith was politically untouchable.  The consequences of relieving him could be dire.

Uncle Winchester coughed.  “I feel, Farnham, that the boy is confused.”

James flushed, brightly.  “I’m not twelve any longer, uncle!”

“Learn to keep your face under control,” Uncle Winchester lectured, sternly.  He looked over at the First Space Lord.  “This is an invidious line of questioning, Farnham.”

“You know better, I think,” the First Space Lord said.  “Commander Fitzwilliam, I do need an answer.”

James winced.  If he answered the question, it could utterly destroy his professional reputation.  No one would ever trust him again.  They’d think of him as a sneak, a coward who didn't even have the nerve to stand up and relieve his CO of command.  But if he didn't answer the question, it could impact his career too.  The First Space Lord had no shortage of places to assign officers who had annoyed him.  It was darkly amusing to realise that
Ark Royal
had once been one of those places.

“It won’t go any further,” Uncle Winchester assured him.  “Will it?”

“No,” the First Space Lord said.

James gathered himself.  “Since I have served on
Ark Royal
, the Captain has not – to my knowledge – touched a drop of alcohol,” he said, firmly.  “Furthermore, he has handled my education in the carrier’s mechanics, the integration of the new crewmembers and our first real deployment with exceptional skill.  He has, after all, had years to think of the best way to refit his ship for combat.  And he
has
successfully pulled off our first real victory.”

The First Space Lord looked unconvinced.  “But he could backslide at any moment ...”

“I have seen nothing to indicate that he will,” James said, sharply.  It crossed his mind, a second too late, that he had interrupted the senior uniformed officer in the entire navy, but he forced the thought to one side.  “My ambitions aside, there is no good reason to relieve him of command.”

He wondered, absently, just what the First Space Lord had in mind.  There were ways to put someone on the beach while seemingly rewarding them.  It was why, he suspected, there were so many Admirals in the Royal Navy.  Not all of them were assigned to fleet or squadron commands – or naval bases.  Smith’s promotion to Admiral would be greeted with raptures by the media, who wouldn't recognise that he was being promoted into obscurity. 

Or maybe they would
, he thought. 
By now, they expect Captain Smith to take command of the next unified defence force
.

“I expect you to keep a close eye on him,” the First Space Lord said.  “How does he work with the crew?”

“Fatherly, rather than dictatorial,” James said.  He'd served under a CO who’d been a tyrant, although he’d had the advantage of not caring about James’s family.  James had actually found that somewhat refreshing.  “He’s friendly and caring ... it helps, it think, that most of his senior crew served together on
Ark Royal
while she was in the reserves.  They’ve had plenty of time to build up a relationship.”

The First Space Lord leaned forward.  “No improper relationships?”

James scowled.  If the Captain had
any
relationships – or relations – away from
Ark Royal
, James had never seen anything of them.  But then, the Captain hadn't taken any leave for
years
, according to his file.  Had he simply become an introverted hermit on
Ark Royal
?  Or had he formed a relationship with one of the supply crewwomen?  Or crewmen?

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” he said.  He braced himself, then pushed forward.  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” the First Space Lord said.

“I rather thought we were,” Uncle Winchester said.

James ignored him.  “Sir, with all due respect, this whole conversation is dreadfully improper,” he said.  “I should not be asked to ... pass judgement on my commanding officer, certainly not outside a formal Board of Inquiry.  In any case, while I admit I had concerns about the Captain’s drinking, I have seen no evidence that he has returned to his old habits in the seven weeks I have served under his command.

“Furthermore, he is perhaps the most experienced officer we could hope to have with the older weapons that won us a victory,” he continued.  “Most newer officers, including myself, were trained to serve on modern carriers, not solid masses of metal like
Ark Royal
.  But those carriers are nothing more than targets for the alien starfighters.  We need him, sir.  We shouldn't be planning to stick a knife in his back.”

The First Space Lord’s expression darkened for a long moment.  James wondered if he'd gone too far, then reminded himself that at least he still had his pride.  And besides, Uncle Winchester would defend him, if necessary.  He still recalled the older man ticking off his aunt for assuming that James and his brothers had ruined her prize flowerbed.

“I concede your point,” the First Space Lord said, finally.  “However, there are ... issues with Captain Smith.  I shall be expecting you to watch him closely and take whatever action seems appropriate if the Captain slides back into drunkenness.”

He stood and marched out of the room.  James watched him go, then turned to look at his uncle.  “Farnham always was too political,” Uncle Winchester muttered.  “But at such high attitude, politics and war are always intermingled.  He’s better than most at running interference between politicians and naval officers.”

“Yes, uncle,” James agreed.

Uncle Winchester stood.  “Go back to the party, keep an eye on your junior officers and try to have fun,” he advised.  “Or go find a debutante and have some fun with her.  You’ll be back in space soon enough.”

James nodded.  The schedule had insisted that
Ark Royal’s
crewmen return to her immediately after the party.  He didn't really blame the organisers, not when the media were already laying siege to the building.  One careless word in the wrong pair of ears could trigger a political earthquake.

“Thank you, uncle,” he said, sourly.  He couldn't escape the feeling of being used – without even being given a reward for his service.  “And ... can I avoid this from happening again?”

Uncle Winchester reached out and grabbed James’s shoulder.  “The family gives you an advantage over your less ... wellborn comrades,” he said.  “You have automatic entrance to places like Sandhurst or the Luna Academy, if you wish to take advantage of it.  But the price comes in upholding the system of government ... and serving as part of backchannel discussions, if necessary.  And if you fail the family, or refuse to pay your dues, the results will be unpleasant.”

James nodded.  Automatic entrance was one thing, automatic graduation was quite another.  There was no way he would be allowed to pass through the Academy without actually being qualified, something that Uncle Winchester – among others – had hammered into his head while he was still packing his first regulation suitcase.  It hadn't really dawned on him that there was another price for access to the Old Boys Network.  But the network had always been good at entangling people before it demanded payment.  Hell, one didn't even have to be an aristocrat to engage in a little mutual back-scratching.

He returned to the party and noted, to his relief, that nothing seemed to have gone spectacularly wrong.  Most of the drinks were being claimed by senior officers, he couldn't help noticing; the Captain, thankfully, had restricted himself to juice and water.  Absently, James wondered if he should tell the Captain what had happened, before deciding that it would be a bad idea.  No one would trust him if he did.  All he could do was watch his Captain’s back ...

... And pray to God that his faith in his CO was not misplaced.

Chapter Thirteen

“I’ve told everyone at school that you’re a pilot and they’re dead excited.  How many BEMs did you kill?”

Kurt smiled at his son’s enthusiasm.  Percy had never quite believed that his father – his staid harassed investment banker father – was also a starfighter pilot, not until Kurt had been featured on the local news.  Kurt was privately rather annoyed by how easily the media had gotten access to his files – they’d even dug up a set of photos taken when he’d first served on a carrier – but it had definitely improved his relationship with his son.

“I killed seven enemy starfighters,” he said, shortly.  “Thirteen more and I will make ace.”