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departure.  I trust you will be able to attend?”
     
    “Yes, sir,” Susan said.  The odds of any officer declining a dinner with his commanding officer were about as low as the Admiralty promoting a midshipwoman to Grand Admiral as soon as she graduated from the academy.  “I would be delighted to attend.”
     
    “Very good,” Captain Blake said.  “Dismissed.”
     
    Susan saluted, turned and marched out of the cabin, her mind spinning.  What was wrong with Captain Blake?  And why were all of her instincts twitching in alarm the moment she turned her back on him?  She could understand a senior captain being concerned about an untrained XO - although she had served as Cornwall’s XO for two months when her superior had had to leave the ship for a brief period - yet his conduct had been far from professional; indeed, it had been outright insulting.  Just what had happened between the captain and his former XO?
     
    “Commander,” Mason said, as she stepped onto the bridge.  “Do you want the grand tour or should I show you directly to my - your - office?”
     
    “I think it would be better if you showed me to my office,” Susan said.  She needed a stiff drink - and a chat, where no one else could hear.  “I assume it’s near the bridge?”
     
    “Near the secondary bridge,” Mason said.  He led the way through the airlock and down into Officer Country.  “You’ll discover that a great many cabins and offices are actually scattered through the hull, Commander, rather than concentrated in one place.  Vanguard is built to take a shitload of damage and keep going.  There’s no prospect of a single hit managing to take out the entire command crew.”
     
    Susan snorted.  “Does that actually happen outside bad movies?”
     
    “ Aliens were fictional only fifteen years ago,” Mason reminded her.  “And so were space pirates.”
     
    “I suppose,” Susan conceded. 
     
    She rolled her eyes as they reached a stairwell and walked down to the lower decks.  The idea of space pirates had been the stuff of trashy romance novels ever since humanity had advanced into space, rather than a real-life problem.  It was impossible to keep a small starship operating without a nation or a very large corporation providing backing.  And yet, on her first voyage, Warspite had run into a small group of pirates.  It was unlikely there would be any others, she was sure, but the threat had been noted.
     
    And it helps convince Parliament to increase the military budget , she thought, cynically.  As if there weren't enough real threats out there .
     
    “This is your office,” Mason said, opening a hatch.  “As you can see, Commander Bothell ran a very tight ship.”
     
    Susan shook her head as she took in the scene.  The office wasn't just clean and tidy, it was organised to sheer perfection.  Everything had its place, from the terminal on the desk to a handful of pens, a drinks machine and a large painting of the Battle of Pegasus, a copy of an original Justin Adams.  She’d actually seen the original, she recalled, when it had been hung in Warspite’s wardroom, two years after the battle.  Her first commanding officer had been adamant that they hadn't been that close to the Indian carrier.
     
    “He was a little OCD,” Mason commented, as the hatch hissed closed behind them.  “I was surprised when he failed to return from his shore leave.”
     
    “So was the captain,” Susan commented.  She sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs and motioned him to take the other one, facing her.  “Paul ... can we talk bluntly, off the record?”
     
    “Of course,” Mason said.  “Naval Regulation 538-362-3273 clearly states that two officers who shared a class at the academy may speak freely to one another, regardless of their formal ranks.”
     
    Susan smiled.  “There’s no such regulation.”
     
    Mason looked downcast.  “You’ll be astonished how much you can get away with