Fear God and Dread Naught (16 page)

“His,” Felicity said.  “He’s heir to a duchy ...”

George stared at her in disbelief.  Henderson the heir to a duchy?  It was utterly impossible, completely beyond belief.  She would have met him - or at least
heard
of him - long ago if he was a duke’s firstborn son.  Hell, he would probably have been considered a prospective husband for her ... he
was
in the right general age bracket, after all.  But he didn't have either the manners or the arrogance of an aristocratic trust fund brat.

“There isn't a Henderson Family,” she pointed out.  Dear God ... hadn't Felicity thought to
check
?  “I would know him, if he was a true aristocrat ...”

“He said he was using a false name,” Felicity said, pleadingly.  “He said ...”

“He was lying,” George told her, flatly.  She’d heard of young men claiming to be scions of the aristocracy, but this was the first time she'd ever
met
one.  A faker would be easy to spot, just because of the gaps in his knowledge.  “Believe me, if he was trying to pose as a commoner, he wouldn't have exposed himself to you.”

She rubbed her eyes.  “I found a dozen components where the serial numbers don’t add up,” she said, tartly.  “That was in the section you double-checked yesterday - according to the paperwork.  Did you actually do more than glance at it?”

“I did my own section,” Felicity said.

George sighed.  “And I assume he didn't bother to check yours?”

She clenched her fists as the younger girl began to cry.  She was going to
kill
Henderson.  It wasn't as if she could get in worse trouble ... well, she supposed she could, but it hardly seemed to matter.  What had he promised Felicity?  A match with a ducal son?  It would be very tempting to a young girl with so little to recommend her ...

... And it would have come crashing down in ruins, sooner rather than later.

“Stop crying,” she ordered, sharply.  She’d never had any patience for girls who blubbered, rather than taking their lumps and getting on with life.  No wonder she’d done her best to avoid finishing school like the plague.  “How did you ever get through the Academy?”

“He told me if I did well, he’d marry me,” Felicity said.  Tears were dripping from her eyes, staining her uniform.  “We were going to be together forever ...”

“He’s a liar and a user and quite possibly an idiot,” George said.  Perhaps Henderson
was
taking drugs.  The discrepancies in the serial numbers
would
have been discovered, sooner or later.  “And whatever he told you ... I wouldn't put any faith in it at all.”

She sat back and rubbed her eyes.  There was no way she could hide this, even if she
wanted
to.  Henderson had gone far beyond anything she could handle alone.  No, she had to take it to the XO and ... and then prepare for her return to Earth.  If she was lucky, or her uncle intervened, perhaps she’d be allowed to resign quietly.  And if she wasn't, she’d probably wind up dishonourably discharged for gross negligence.

Reaching for her datapad, she checked the timetable.  “I want you to stay here,” she said, slowly.  Potter was the next midshipman due back and
he
wouldn't be on his way for at least another hour.  She should search Henderson’s bunk and locker ... no, better to leave that for the marines.  The XO wouldn't want her to take the risk of contaminating evidence.  “Do
not
leave this compartment until you are summoned.”

Felicity looked up at her.  “What’s going to happen to me?”

“I have no idea,” George said. 

She shrugged.  There was no way to avoid the simple fact that Felicity had been compliant in
all
of Henderson’s games, including covering up his misdeeds.  She doubted Felicity could expect anything better than a dishonourable discharge, if she wasn't booted straight into Colchester.  The thought made George feel cold.  They might wind up sharing a cell if the navy threw the book at them.

“Stay here,” she repeated.  “And
don’t
even
think
about trying to warn him.”

She considered confiscating Felicity’s wristcom, just in case, but dismissed the thought.  The younger girl had had enough of a scare, George thought.  And besides, there wouldn't be much time for Henderson to do anything ... hell, what
could
he do?  Steal a shuttlecraft and escape ... escape to where?  There was literally nowhere to go. 

Unless he wants to damage the ship
, she thought. 
But he couldn't leave his duty station without attracting attention
.

She took a long breath as she stepped through the hatch and peered towards the bunkroom.  It wasn't hers any longer - or it wouldn't be, once the XO got through with her.  Bitter resignation tinged her thoughts as she keyed her wristcom, using the XO’s priority code.  She could get in trouble for misusing it, but she doubted the XO would care, not once he heard what had been going on.  He’d be too busy sorting out the mess.

“Yes, Midshipwoman?”

George sighed.  “Mr. XO, I need to see you,” she said, tiredly.  “It’s important.”

There was a long pause, just long enough to make her worry.  “Report to my office,” the XO said, finally.  She wondered, absently, if he was on the bridge.  But the XO could put another officer in command if necessary.  “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” George said.  “I’ll be there momentarily.”

Taking one last look at the bunkroom, she turned and walked towards the hatch.  No matter what she did, no matter what she said, she doubted she would see it again. 

At least Henderson will get what’s coming to him
, she thought, tiredly.  Given his crimes, it was quite likely he’d be sent straight to jail - or thrown out an airlock. 
And Potter will get a chance to be First Middy after all
.

Chapter Sixteen

“Let me see if I have this straight,” the XO said.  He sat behind his desk, studying George with unblinking eyes.  “Midshipman Clayton Henderson has been falsifying entries in the ship’s records, along with a multitude of other crimes?”

“Yes, sir,” George said.  She stood, ramrod straight; her hands clasped behind her back to keep them from shaking.  “He was skipping on basic maintenance ...”

The XO held up a hand.  “And you only realised it today?”

“Yes, sir,” George said.  A dozen excuses bubbled to the surface of her mind, but she refused to use any of them.  There was no avoiding the fact that she hadn't checked his work, relying on Felicity to do the task.  “I take full responsibility.”

“I see,” the XO said.  “And Midshipwoman Wheeler?”

“She was apparently tricked and seduced into helping him, sir,” George said.  She had no idea how far Felicity had gone with Henderson - relationships between bunkmates were frowned upon - but she would have been surprised if they hadn't found a chance to sleep together after being assigned to
Vanguard
.  “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

The XO studied her for a long moment, then keyed a switch on his desk.  George heard the hatch hiss open behind her and someone step into the compartment, but resisted the urge to turn and look.  The XO’s eyes never left her ... she wondered, absently, just what he was thinking.  She’d lost control of Middy Country and, almost certainly, lost her career too. 

And Henderson will be going down with me
, she thought. 
There is that, at least
.

“You will be escorted to the brig,” the XO said, curtly.  “You will remain there until the captain has had a chance to consider your case.  You
will
have a chance to defend yourself” - George bit down the urge to point out that she had
no
defence - “but until then you may consider yourself relieved of duty.”

He looked past her.  “Take her away.”

George turned.  A marine - Frederick Stott, she realised - was standing behind her, looking alarmingly competent in his shipboard uniform.  She winced as he took her upper arm and led her towards the hatch, his grip light but very firm.  She supposed she should be grateful he wasn't bringing out the handcuffs, she told herself; she didn't think she would cope very well with being frogmarched through the ship in cuffs.  And the thought of Potter’s reaction ...

Forget Potter
, she thought, as Stott walked her through the hatch. 
He isn't your problem any longer
.

The corridors were almost deserted, she was relieved to discover, as Stott walked her down to the brig.  Only a handful of crewmen saw her and it was possible, just possible, to believe that they hadn't realised she was in trouble.  The thought sustained her, even as she realised it wasn't remotely accurate.  Apart from the captain, there wasn't a single person on the ship who would be escorted by marines,
unless
they were in trouble.

“I have to search you,” Stott said, as they entered the brig.  “Are you carrying anything dangerous?”

“No,” George said, bitterly. 

She rested her hands on her head and forced herself to relax as he frisked her, quickly and efficiently.  She’d hoped he’d leave her the datapad, but he took it - along with the wristcom - and dropped it into a locker.  She hadn't been carrying anything else, save for a ration bar she’d scooped up before hurrying to meet Fraser.  That too was dumped in the box and stowed away.

“You’ll find the brig very comfortable,” Stott said.  He opened a hatch, revealing a compartment no larger than the middy bunkroom.  “And don’t hesitate to bang on the hatch if you need anything.”

George gave him a sidelong look as he pushed her into the brig and closed the hatch.  It was bare: a bunk, an old-fashioned toilet stool and nothing else, not even a book.  She was going to be very bored, she knew, as she sat down on the bunk.  But boredom would seem better than the inevitable end result of Captain’s Mast ...

And my career is over
, she thought. 
Maybe I should have killed Henderson after all
.

***

“What a fucking mess,” Susan said.  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that Fitzwilliam made a mistake?”

“No, Captain,” Alan Finch said.  The Chief Engineer looked quietly furious.  “I had the sections Henderson worked on rechecked, twice.  No less than fifty-seven components had the wrong serial numbers, even though they should have been changed at least once in the last week.  It didn't give us any real problems, thanks to over-engineering the components, but we might have been in real trouble if we had to channel excess power through that section.”

“HMS
Warspite
lost power during her maiden voyage, Captain,” the XO put in.  “There was an arsehole on the ship who was stealing the replacement components and selling them onwards.”

Susan nodded, sourly.  “Do we have any explanation for his behaviour?”

“I searched his locker
thoroughly
,” Major Christopher Andreas said.  “He had five tablets of Happy Powder hidden in his dress uniform.  The doctor thinks he was actually limiting his intake, even though it was having a bad effect on him.”

“I see,” Susan said.  “Does that explain his behaviour?”

“It might,” Andres said.  “When he was high, he would have been preternaturally convincing and charismatic; when he was coming off the drug, he would have been lethargic and prone to bouts of depression and suchlike.  There’s a reason Happy Powder is on the banned list.”

“And he smuggled it onboard my ship,” Susan snapped.  “How did he
get
it onboard?”

“We don’t search middy knapsacks,” Mason said.  The XO pressed his fingertips together as he sat back in his chair.  “As long as he was very careful, he should have been able to escape detection.”

“He
did
escape detection,” Andres pointed out.  “We wouldn't know about the problem if Fitzwilliam hadn't checked his work.”

“Which she should have done earlier,” Finch snapped.  “She's partly to blame for this, Captain.”

“She had four new middies to supervise,” the XO said, playing devil’s advocate.  “How many other First Middies do you know who have to supervise more than two newcomers?”

“That’s beside the point,” Finch said.  “Henderson’s stupidity risked the entire ship!  She should have brought the concerns to you earlier.”

“She would have risked her career,” the XO said.  “I’m not denying she acted badly, Mr. Finch, but she was placed in one hell of a mess.”

Susan sighed, inwardly.  She wasn’t blind to the irony.  Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam had been in the same situation as
she’d
been, when she'd realised just how dangerous it would be to leave Captain Blake in command.  Report the matter to superior authority, knowing that it might cost her everything, or do nothing and hope for the best.  At least Fitzwilliam hadn't plotted a mutiny.  There was
that
in her favour, at least.

She slapped the table, hard.  “Right,” she said.  “We need to act decisively.

“Midshipman Clayton Henderson is to remain in the brig, under medical supervision,” she said, firmly.  “He is
not
to be allowed to take any more of his pills.  When we get back home, he can explain himself to a Court Martial Board.  Under the circumstances, I don’t think they’ll hesitate before throwing the book at him.  He can spend the rest of his life in Colchester.”

“You could execute him,” Andres pointed out.  “There
is
precedent.”

Susan shook her head.  She
was
tempted, but there was no need.  Henderson was hardly a threat, not any longer; he certainly hadn't
deliberately
set out to harm the ship.  He’d spend the rest of his life - or at least a decade or two - in the harshest prison in Britain, then probably get kicked out of the country.  There was certainly no way he’d ever be allowed back in space.

“No,” she said.  Henderson might beg for a bullet in the brain, when he realised what was coming his way, but she saw no reason to oblige him.  Besides, executing him would just give her enemies more ammunition.  “Let him live.  He won’t enjoy it.”

She took a breath.  “Midshipwoman Felicity Wheeler is to remain in the brig until we return to Earth, at which point she will be permanently beached,” she continued.  “She should have learned her lesson, but we cannot overlook her conduct.  If there is no place for her in the navy, in the judgement of the personnel department, she can resign quietly if she wishes.”

And that is as far as I am prepared to go for her
, she added, in the privacy of her own thoughts.  She’d met her fair share of men claiming to be the fifth son of some obscure aristocrat - or heir to power, position and fortune - because they found her skin colour exotic, but she’d never let any of them seduce her.  Her father had taught her to beware of anything that looked too good to be true. 
She’ll have a chance to make a new life for herself
.

“There won’t be any place for her,” Finch predicted.  “Not after her conduct ...”

“Perhaps,” Susan said.  “We shall see.”

She paused, looking from face to face.  “I assume that Midshipman Potter and Midshipwoman Spurgeon have no role in this farce?”

“Apparently not, Captain,” Andres said.  “Mr. Potter was quite helpful in discussing Miss Fitzwilliam’s failings - and Mr. Henderson’s moral lapses - but there doesn't seem to be any reason to suspect him - or Spurgeon - of any role in the affair.”

Susan frowned.  She hadn't missed the hint of disgust in his voice.

“Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam is to be retroactively beached all the way back to day one,” she said, keeping her voice icy cold.  It was a harsh punishment, but milder - far milder - than Fitzwilliam had any right to expect.  “In addition, she is to be transferred to the shuttle crews until it pleases me to return her to regular midshipman duties.  Her record will be amended to note that she didn't bring this to our attention at first - and, when she had no choice, she did so in a manner befitting her position.”

She looked from face to face.  “If any of you have any objections, say so now,” she added.  “I will note them in my log.”

“I cannot approve,” Finch stated, bluntly.  “The ship comes first, always.”

“Duly noted,” Susan said.  “Anyone else?”

There was a long pause.  No one spoke.

“Good,” Susan said, finally.  “Now, before I speak to Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam, are there any other issues we should address?”

Mason nodded.  “Under the circumstances, Captain, Midshipman Potter would normally become First Middy,” he said.  “He has two years on Midshipwoman Spurgeon.  However, I have a feeling that the young man played a significant role in the problems affecting Middy Country.  I suggest, therefore, that we ask Lieutenant Fraser to serve as First Middy - and place a number of soldiers to fill the empty slots in Middy Country.”

Susan felt her eyes narrow.  “Is it that bad?”

“I think so, Captain,” Mason said.  “Midshipman Potter gives me bad vibes.”

“See to it,” Susan ordered.  She raised her voice, slightly.  “Any other matters of concern?”

“We will be quite short on manpower, Captain,” Granger warned.  “We’ll only have two midshipmen on full-time duties.”

“We’ll endure,” Mason said.

“If worst comes to worst, we’ll put Fitzwilliam back in the slot,” Susan said.  “But for the moment” - she nodded at Mason - “we’ll just have to endure.”

She sighed, then glanced at her wristcom.  “Major Andres, have Midshipwoman Fitzwilliam brought to my office in two hours,” she added.  “Everyone else, dismissed.”