Fear God and Dread Naught by Christopher Nuttall Read Free Book Online Page B

“Make sure you keep a close eye on them - ask Lieutenant Fraser to do the same.”
     
    “The First Middy won’t like that,” Mason reminded her.  “She’s supposed to be supreme within the wardroom.”
     
    “It will just have to be endured,” Susan said, crossly.  “And you can make that point to her, if necessary.
     
    She ran her hand through her dark hair, knowing it wouldn't be easy.  Traditionally, what happened in Middy Country stayed in Middy Country, at least unless it got far out of hand.  If the First Middy couldn't keep control - or appeared to be leaning too much on her superior officers - it could cost her any chance of promotion.  It was a delicate balancing act and too many promising young officers had fallen off.
     
    “As you wish, Captain,” Mason said.  He pulled a small datapad from his belt.  “As you can see” - he passed the datapad to Susan - “we are within five days of being ready to depart.  I think we could leave now, if necessary, but I would prefer to avoid combat in that case.  And in any case, we’re going to have a great deal of work to do while we’re in transit.”
     
    “Joy,” Susan said.  She wanted to get back out into deep space, where she didn't have to worry about desk-bound officers peering over her shoulder, but if any problems developed it would be better to handle them near a shipyard.  “Did you run a full shakedown test?”
     
    “Levels one and two,” Mason said.  “I decided to leave the level three test for a couple more days.  We should have everything in place to make it successful by then.”
     
    “Very good,” Susan said.  “And we’ll have three days to fix anything that goes badly wrong.”
     
    She glanced at the datapad, running her eye down the list of neat little reports.  Her ship wasn't quite ready to depart, but she was close enough.  The storage compartments were being filled with spare parts and additional ammunition, as well as ...
     
    “Paul,” she said, holding out the datapad.  “What’s this?”
     
    “Supplies for a portable biological research chamber,” Mason said.  He didn't seem surprised that she’d noticed it.  “Or, put a little more bluntly, a prison cell for any alien captives.”
     
    Susan stared at him.  “On my ship?”
     
    “In theory, the research team - which is headed by Prince Henry, by the way - will be transferring to a support ship once we reach the front,” Mason told her.  “In practice, we may be keeping them for longer.”
     
    “Wonderful,” Susan said.  She had nothing against Prince Henry - he’d insisted he was nothing more than an Ambassador - but she didn't like the idea of untrained civilians on her ship.  “What happened to the researchers from Tadpole Prime?”
     
    “I don’t know,” Mason said.  “But they won’t be coming with us.”
     
    Susan rubbed her forehead.  “Are there any more surprises?”
     
    “Apparently, there will be a formal briefing once we reach the RV point,” Mason said.  “I imagine they’re saving the nasty surprises until then.”
     
    “Quite,” Susan agreed.  “It is the sort of thing they tend to do.”
     
    She scanned the rest of the datapad, then looked back at him.  “I’m going to call my father, if we’re close enough for a direct conversation,” she said.  “And then I’ll meet you on the bridge for the formal assumption of command.  And then we will go over the ship in cynical detail.”
     
    Mason nodded.  “Make sure your father knows you’re safe,” he said.  “I was quite worried he’d start pressuring his MP.”
     
    Susan sighed.  Maybe he had started pressuring his local MP.  No one took democracy - and freedom - more seriously than a man who had fought and bled to preserve it.  She had no idea just what had happened, over the last month; she doubted she would ever know.  But at least it had worked in her favour.  She had command of a warship, her actions had been