He Who Dares: Book One (The Gray Chronicals 1)

by Rob Buckman

  “The Captain is expecting you, sir, go right in.”

  “Thank you, Trooper... Allway.” He said looking quickly at the nametag. That was a change, and he saw the Marine smile slightly as he passed.

  “Thank you, sir.” He answered in a very low voice.

  That gave Mike pause to think. Maybe the word had got round the Marine deck that his field promotions had stuck. Marching in, he came to attention in front of the Captain’s desk but didn’t salute. Had he done so, the Captain was obliged to place his cap on and return in.

  “Second Leftenant Michelle Gray reporting as ordered, sir.” The Captain looked up from a report and his eyes flicked to the shoulder boards.

  “At ease Leftenant, this is more informal than usual.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Mike removed his cap and placed it under his left arm, then stood at ease. The Captain attitude was a lot different than the last time.

  “I have your new duty assignment, Mr. Gray, but it's not exactly what I had in mind, but that's beside the point, isn’t it.”

  “Yes, sir, I will carry out any duty assigned to the best of my abilities, sir.” The Captain sat down, and gave him an appraising look.

  “Your new duty assignment is the naval dockyards at Davenport to clean up the position of Admiralty Inspector.”

  “Dockyards, sir?” That didn’t sound promising at all.

  “Yes, I would rather have you working on something a little more in line with your talents, but I didn’t have a say in the matter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From the report I read, those talents seem quite considerable.” He picked up his pipe and began stoking it.

  “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  “The powers to be might not be very happy with the way you screwed up their carefully planned intelligence mission, but on the whole as I said before, you did an outstanding job.”

  “I thought it was officially a none event, sir.”

  “Not any more, it would seem that this has come to the attention of... well, let’s just say, someone high up.” He coughed into his hand to cover a smile.

  “He has consented to award you the VC and promote you to First Leftenant for your outstanding rescue operation of the King’s messenger and other passengers aboard the courier ship.”

  “He did what! The VC... and... I’m not sure I deserve that, sir, I did what any other officer would have done.” Mike felt himself get a little red around the collar. Somehow, they changed their minds and now officially recognized at least part of the mission.

  “Had it been for the messed up of the spy mission,” he said it like it was, and didn’t use euphemistic words to hide what it was, “I’d agree. But the resourcefulness you used in getting the...” he stopped and coughed again, “the King’s Messenger and the other survivors out of enemy held territory was brilliant.”

  “I just did what I had to, sir.” He was starting to feel a little embarrassed about the whole thing now.

  “That makes it even more incredible Leftenant. I’d be hard pressed to think of an officer on this ship who could have done what you did under similar circumstances.”

  “That’s high praise coming from you, sir,” Mike muttered, eyeing the multiple row of ribbons on the Captain chest, “but I’m sure there are a few officers that could have done the job as well.”

  “Don’t be modest Leftenant, I have been there and know what it's like, but I will say that I did have a little more experience in grade than you at the time.” He chuckled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So, off you go and get your number one dress uniform ready, you will need it for the presentation at the Palace. Your new orders should be in the mainframe for downloading by the time you get there, and again, congratulations.” He held his hand out with a broad smile on his face. Mike shook it, flushing slightly.

  “Thank you, sir.” Replacing his cap, he came to attention and saluted. This time, the Captain put his cap on and returned the salute.

  “Carry on, Leftenant.”

  Now Mike’s head was in a whirl, first he his promoted to Sub, then First Leftenant, then giving the VC for a mission that never happened. Instead of heading to his quarter, he went back down to the tailor’s shop and stuck his head in. Time to have a little fun.

  “Snips, you in?”

  “Yes, sir, just finishing my lunch.”

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t realized that it was now lunchtime. “I can come back later.”

  “That’s all right Mr. Gray, what can I do for you?” Snips said, wiping his mouth.

  “Ummm, well, I have a bit of a problem.”

  “Oh, what might that be?”

  “You see, these bars are the wrong ones.” Snips pulled his glasses down and looked over them at Mike’s shoulder boards, his eyes flicking back and forth.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with them, sir.” His brow pulling together in a frown.

  “But, they are for a Sub Leftenant, Snips.”

  “And so?”

  “Apparently, I got promoted to First Leftenant.” He laughed, and then roared at the expression on Snip’s face.

  “You've been promoted again, all in the same day?” He asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, by order of the King himself no less, if you can believe that.”

  “Good heavens, congratulations, sir.”

  “Thank you, Snips.”

  “I just happen to have a set of First’s shoulder taps right here, sir.”

  “Do you happen to have a Number One dress uniform in there as well?” Mike winced at the look Snip’s gave him.

  “Say that again?”

  “I need one for the presentation at the Palace.” Snip’s pulled his glasses down again and gave him a ‘you have to be-shitting-me’ look, a wide grin on his face. He opened the half door and motioned Mike to enter.

  “The presentation… what presentation?” He asked. “They don’t invite you to the Palace just to give you a promotion, sir.”

  “Well… you see… for some reason, the King has awarded me the VC as well.” He mumbled.

  “No...” For a moment, Snips looked stunned before letting out a chuckle of delight.

  “From what I’ve heard through the ships rumor control system its well deserved. I can see where you’d want to look as smart as possible for that.”

  Inviting someone inside his domain was something he rarely did, and few officers below the rank of Captain could afford to offend him. Uniforms of various kinds were always in high demand, and woe betide the officer who didn’t pay due respect to Snip’s position. Hell would freeze over before they got their new uniforms, or alterations done. Snip’s cubby hole turned out to be larger than he imagined. After entering, he turned a corner and found himself in a long passageway, with racks of uniforms on each side. It was obviously one of the unused spaced between the inner bulkhead of the ship’s hull and the operations side of the ship. Whatever it was, Snip’s put it to good use and made it his sole domain. Mike whistled in surprise. Snips’ had uniform for every rank from the Admiral down to the ship's cat, or so it seemed. Considering the number of officers on a battleship, and the normal turnover rate, promotion, or in some case's demotions, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.

  “Now let me see,” Snips muttered, “you are going to need a complete set of dress Blues and whites for summer and winter. And of course shirts, underwear, etc. to go with it.”

  “Just the dress blue’s, Snip’s.”

  “How soon do you have to leave?” Snip’s cut him off.

  “Not sure, haven’t picked up my orders yet.”

  “You haven’t? Then you’d better download them here and have a look, sir. That will tell me how much time I have.”

  “Snips, I can’t expect you to come up with a complete kit, I can do that when I get to London.”

  “And have you go to one of those high priced dress makers on Savile Row! No, sir, not on your life, my dear old
dad would turn over in his grave if I let you do that.”

  “Snips I...” Snips shushed him and took out his old-fashioned cloth measuring tape. None of the new fangled electronic measuring devices for him, thank you very much.

  “Mr. Gray, I have enough uniform in here to outfit the whole bloody fleet if necessary, it's time I’m worried about.”

  “Snips...” He tried again.

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll have everything packed for you by the time you’re ready to leave, sir.”

  “You aren’t going to let me thank you, are you.”

  “Thank me, what for?” He asked, giving him a puzzled look over the top of his half glasses.

  “For doing this.”

  “And what about the thanks of the crew member and Marines you brought back, and promoted?”

  “Oh, you heard about that.”

  “Yes, CPO Blake and Sergeant Rice were up here for their alterations, and we had a few words, if you take my meaning.” He smiled and tapped the side of his nose.

  “They deserved their promotion, both performed admirably under difficult circumstances.” As he spoke, Mike went over to the terminal, more to hide his embarrassment, and punching in his password down loaded his orders.

  “You know,” Snips said, as he puttered around, pulling items out of hidden drawers, “I come from a long line of tailor, my great, great grandfather was a bespoken tailor in London.”

  “A bespoken tailor?”

  “Yes, you don’t know what that means do you?”

  “No, sorry I don’t.”

  “My family is Jewish.” Snips let the words hang in the air.

  “OK, and?” Mike asked a puzzled look on his face. Snips laughed.

  “That doesn’t matter to you, does it, sir, unlike some.” His face took on a sour look for a moment.

  “What, that you are Jewish? A man’s religious beliefs are his own concern, as long as they don’t conflict with his duty, and he doesn’t try to shove them down my throat why should I.” Mike shrugged. Religious intolerance was one thing Avalon wouldn’t put up with. More than one settler who’d espoused a contrary opinion found himself summarily ejected on the next ship out, or suffered extensive personal injuries and departed voluntarily.

  “That’s what I am talking about, sir, respect, and you give it to all, no matter what his rank.”

  “Where I come from, that’s the way I was brought up. What God a person believes in is between him, his conscience, and his deity.”

  “And I respect that, sir, and why I’m willing to help you without you having to thank me in return.”

  “Like a man once said, ‘you have to give respect if you expect to receive it.” He said, smiling.

  They chatted on as Snips took more measurements and began putting his wardrobe together. His orders showed he had 12 hours to report for duty. That didn’t give him much time to pack and catch a shuttlecraft down to the Portsmouth Transit office. He still had to get from there to Davenport after that. In the end, Snips sent him off packing and clear up his things, promising to have everything at the shuttle bay by the time he was ready to leave. After that, it became a whirlwind of running here and there to get his clearance, pay vouchers, travel orders, transfer his mail address, and countless other small things that he never really thought about. His main concern was ensuring they packed his hard suit in its shipping crate and bar coded it for Davenport. It took almost three hours before he completed packing and finally skidded to a halt in the shuttle bay. The duty transport officer looked at him for a moment, then came to attention and saluted as he noted the shoulder tabs. Two days before he’d been Mike’s superior, now he had to salute him.

  “At ease Leftenant, when is the next shuttle due to leave for Portsmouth?” It was a little unsettling for Mike to say that, and have someone salute him instead of the other way round.

  “Your orders, sir.” Mike handed the pad over, checking his watch for timing.

  “Did anyone bring or send down a case for me?”

  “No, sir, only Snips, he came down with a large truck, Oh, I think that one is yours, sir.” He pointed across the bay to the bulkhead where a large cabin truck stood.

  “Good grief!”

  “Pardon, sir.”

  “Oh, nothing.” He tried to imagine what on earth Snips packed in there for him.

  “I have the regular shuttle leaving in five hours, sir.”

  “Nothing sooner?”

  “No, sir, just a courier ship leaving from bay three in fifteen minutes.”

  “Who’s the Captain, or pilot?”

  “A Captain Bettencourt, sir.”

  “Wonderful, get him on the blower for me.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me, Leftenant.

  ”

  “Yes, sir, but that’s a courier ship and restricted.” Mike just gave the man a stony look. “Yes, sir, I’ll get him right away.” It was surprising what two little gold bars on his shoulders could do. Less than happy having to obey a jumped up Ensign, but In less than three minutes, he had Jimmy on the view screen and moved out of the office as Mike walked in.

  “Jimmy, hi.”

  “Hello, Mike, good to see you again, what can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been assigned duty at Davenport, and I have to report in,” he looked at his watch, “about nine hours from now, but I can’t get transport off ship for five.”

  “That doesn’t give you much time to get through the Portsmouth Posting office and to Davenport. Tell you what, I’m authorized to use a certified pilot in the second seat, so why don’t you fill the spot and get some flight pay as well.”

  “Sounds perfect, where are you going?”

  “London, of course, laddy, but I can make a detour to Portsmouth for you, and by the way, congratulations on your promotion.”

  “Which one!” He chuckled, hitting the off switch on Jimmy’s puzzled look.

  Less than thirty minutes later, the back of the second seat punched into Mike’s back at the launch tube shot them down the rail and out into space. The excuse that he needed a certified pilot in the second seat was a lie, but it did let him stretch the rules about unauthorized passengers. No one but the King could say anything about it, or question his authority, and Mike was a certified pilot.

  “God! You like those fighter jock take off’s, don’t you Jimmy.” He breathed hard, trying to reel his stomach back in.

  “Yes, that’s how I started out, as a Fleet Air Arm fighter pilot.” He grinned and gunning the small courier ship around in a tight turn and set course for Earth.

  For a few moments while Jimmy took the ship clear of H.M.S. Victoria, Mike looked out into the black, sighing softly. It felt like coming home to him. The eternity of darkness stretching out in all directions didn’t intimidate him like it did others. To him it was like looking at the comforting face of God.

  “All right Jimmy, let’s hear it.” He said after Jimmy settled back in his seat.

  “Hear what?”

  “Don’t get coy with me; I know most of it now.”

  “That’s a relief. I hated dancing around the bush like that.”

  “Good, so tell me what you can.” Jimmy nodded, and punching the course into the autopilot and sat back and let the ship fly itself. Pulling a thermos flask out of its niche, he offered Mike a cup, pouring for both of them.

  “As you know, it was a backhanded spy mission. Someone at the Admiralty came up with the brilliant plan to fool the Sirriens into thinking we were going to make a full-scale invasion in one of their border star systems. Hopefully this would force them to change their position on access to the warp points they closed.”

  “Oh, so that was what all the fuss was about those damn papers.”

  “Yes, there was a complete plan of the supposed invasion, and I was ordered to make a jump error and put us in Sirrien space." He laughed.

  “That way they’d captured us and steal a look at the diplomatic pouch I carried. I was also ordered t
o take on a few passengers as cover.”

  “So, how come Lady Ann ended up as the courier?” Jimmy sipped his coffee and answered an incoming radio message before continuing.

  “Actually, that was a mistake, she was on another King’s Messenger run, and wasn’t supposed to arrive on planet for another week or so.” He stopped and logged in his flight authorization code as the traffic control flagged him.