Chapter 23

"The frontis piece of the QR&AI carries the maxim: quote 'These Regulations and Instructions allow for the harmonious interaction of all ranks to provide an efficient service to the Realm's external policies' unquote." TJ was declaiming on one of his favourite subjects; "it is generally accepted that the Regs are written for the advice of the commander and that tends to be confirmed by the fact they are only trotted out when either 'harmony' or 'efficiency' is compromised." After his utterance, he was waved back to whatever he had been doing — unbeknownst to the females it was 'broidery; Morg had a convert.

TJ had been called in to give advice on an argument arising out of a discussion resulting from Cissie Cooper's gossipy revelations of the behaviour of sundry persons on her last ship, HMS "Naseby". The place was the mess and every crew female was present. Morg had the Watch and the left seat. Colin Bolem had agreed to swap with Cissie Cooper. Orville Jang was in his favourite spot in the now rarely habitated engine room. TJ had been relaxing in his cabin doing some elaborate 'broidery for one of Morg's creative dreams.

TJ was sure that "Naseby" was involved but (wrongly) thought the presence of the commander and the XO would limit the discussion unaware that the Bosun had revealed all of Cissie's knowledge.

The argument was just what was the purpose of QR&AI which had arisen from the Bosun's

"No it doesn't; it just turns a blind eye."

in flat rejection of the commander's comment

"The Navy frowns on sex."

The discussion was how to gainfully employ spacers with more time on their hands than had ever been experienced in their service lives and how to incorporate the "Naseby" experience" into it; the Bosun was a firm believer in harmonious gender relationships calming frustrations in all genders.

Dulcie Watts had immediately recognised the core truth in Cissie's gossip — whilst each gender needed some place to be among their own, there was also a need for another place to meet the opposite gender for whatever purpose. This latter place however was so often spoiled by the aggressive conduct of a few from both genders.

A successful mixed gender institution could only be efficient if there was harmony and that required people who were respectful of each other as well as recognising authority.

An even earlier discussion of duties had occurred in the commander's cubby with the XO present a day out of Maureen's Moon tracking for New Liege in the delta hyper.

Under the present scheme, lower deck watches were now one in six. Sitting in the seats covering all the bridge and engine room functions exposed the spacers to cross training and the point had been reached that 'deck apes' and 'greasers' were now interchangeable — at least for manning the seat positions. The Bosun put the point of view that the lower decks could now space the boat whilst cruising; she conceded that emergencies were excepted. And that raised another point. Training in emergency procedures was always inadequate and the reason was that with one — in — three, there was always crew sleeping and too many emergency drills created disharmony and loss of efficiency. With one — in — six, not only could more drills be practised, the crew could be better educated in them and perhaps the level of achievement could be reached that lower deck could command watches???

As duty periods were now lessened, awake people had more time to be aware of the usual urges and itches, and...

That is where the upper deck became a trifle agitated leading to the crew meeting as this scheme was a radical departure from usual; but they were still subject to discipline and the boat had to efficiently perform its duty of scurrying about the galaxy carrying messages.

...

The final arrangement was only arrived at after much consultation and combined a rearrangement of accommodation and of the days' routine.

The males were accorded individual accommodation but still according to rank; Colin Bolem's bunkroom was rather cramped having been initially a store locker; TJ and Morg were moved each to a once twin bunk cabin which ended up cramped once the hard suit was stored on its stand.

The common meeting place was the mess; the female 'lounge' was the fo'c'sle mess which had been used when the complement had been thirty; and the male 'lounge was Orville's favourite hidey hole, the 'old' engine room watch station just forward of the power plant room.

The forenoon and afternoon watches were scheduled for demonstrations, lectures, and practice sessions.

The XO lectured on navigation and coms.

TJ lectured on ship handling and piloting, and assisted Morg.

Morg lectured on watchkeeping and EW, assisted TJ, supervised the mess (and cooking) and demonstrated in 'broidery and dress building principles [he was not thrilled at all about this one as he was self teaching himself as he went along]. The demonstrations were voluntary even if Morg's and TJ's participation was not and occurred in the mess in last dog.

Chief ERA Orville Jang lectured on emergency procedures and directed the drills.

CPO Dulcie Watts lectured on and demonstrated the myriad tasks about the boat which required regular maintenance at 'local' level.

First watch (2000hrs to 2400hrs) was 'make and mend'.

Second and morning watches were designated 'quiet times'.

The days were full again and the XO and Bosun noted and appreciated the decrease in minor disciplinary matters.

The Bosun was not yet totally satisfied but couldn't explain why.

...

Two only slightly tense spacers brought "Tulip" into anchorage in New Liege. (Two very tense officers were hovering; the XO had the watch and was standing behind the seats trying to look nonchalant and the commander was pacing her cabin.) The Messengers from the Embassy arrived, exchanged material, and departed.

New Liege had always presented a problem for the courier boats of Mountserrat. A berth alongside was never available — 'those vacant berths are booked and awaiting incoming shipping' — and if you believed that, Navy usually allowed you to be discharged 'for the good of the service'. Diplomatic relationships between the two star nations were punctiliously correct but the antagonism toward the Kingdom was palpable. Therefore leave parties were reliant upon shuttle taxis who just wanted fares and suppressed their instincts in the interests of hire — very pragmatic people taxi drivers. ("Tulip" carried a pinnace and a lifecraft neither of which was atmospheric.)

Morg had consulted his chip and his 'sissies' wanted 'Rish linen for which the Harbourian boglands were famous. Morg used his Soyn PDA in interplanetary standard com mode and made contact with a supplier. 'Nita James and another ERA, Mary Fogg requested permission to accompany the CWOs on their sortie to purchase the linen (the more correct description was they latched onto the males for a drive in the countryside). A shuttle taxi was hired and they departed. The taxi returned late in the day laden with sleeved bolts of 'Rish linen, four bolts of space black spider silken cloth and two slightly disappointed women — they had an enjoyable ride with pleasant company (tough). Cissie Cooper had the watch and gave TJ the word, Lt Gillard wanted to see him as soon as he returned.

Clare Gillard told TJ the Ambassador had 'requested' "Tulip's" officers accompany the Naval Attaché and himself to a reception at the Eurocon Embassy in honour of Bastille Day. Mess dress and medals. Shirley and TJ would accompany her. The Embassy shuttle would pick them up at four first dog and they would return to the Embassy to stay at the guest house in the Embassy grounds overnight. Morg would be in temporary command. Morg was delighted to remain on board as he wanted to closely inspect that spider silk.

The Bosun turned it on for the embassy pilot with Morg, side party and herself in best rig manning the side for the commander's departure. The marine Crew Chief went further into shock at the Mess Dress gowns of the ladies. The shuttle r v'ed with the embassy ground car and the "Tulips" transferred. The Naval Attache, Captain(jg) Michael Ferguson was horrified but helpless. As his would be the only gowned women present, the Ambassador chortled away happily until arriving and then put on his game face. His wife, however, monopolised Clare and Shirley and obtained all the details of the gowns. TJ got dragged into the discussion(?) and was only freed by the arrival at the Eurocon Embassy.

They were greeted by the Eurocon Ambassador and his wife, their presence announced and then moved into the throng. TJ sidestepped into the path of a passing waiter bearing beverages, availed himself of the choice, excused himself to Clare and edged away from the herd which had gathered about the party. He was safely ensconced against a wall under a holo portrait of the current President of the Confederation and a voice spoke

"This will break up as soon as the toasts are drunk, TJ. Your ladies will precipitate spousal headaches requiring early return home for cold compresses which will not be applied until husbands have been abused and scorned. Bill Hitchin, TJ, Squadron Leader, Walton's Star Navy."

"Bill, you must be incredibly well briefed to know of me."

"Not a bit of it, my friend; that vid went galaxy wide and I have an excellent memory for faces. Where's Windsor?"

"Got the duty."

"And is laughing his head off, I suspect. Shall we walk? How come you are in Harbouria?"

"I'm in couriers, now, and we go everywhere."

"All the better to meet people, I suppose" and keened briefly.

TJ replied and the talk moved to 'mutie' relationships and their status in the two nations. Then,

"A war is coming" Bill stated.

"Wont involve Walton's; at least not for close on a century. If we win or hold 'em to a 'draw', you're safe; if we lose, Harbouria will need about three decades to recover. You're more likely to run foul of the Solarian Worlds; they are already pushing out to the southwest."

"You seem to be one of the few people, anywhere, who know that. You don't hold an intelligence spot, not in couriers as you say you go everywhere and don't stay in any one place long enough."

"Not quite accurate, Bill. We stay long enough to pick up straws in the wind and its amazing the straws about Harbouria you can gather elsewhere."

"Rumours are very unreliable, TJ."

"Too true, but that is what all guesses are based upon. The spy deep in the depths of an enemy's decision making process is exceptionally rare."

"Yes, but don't we all hope for one. There is a rumour of a mole in your Foreign Affairs — I got that from local sources here."

"See, straws in the wind, Bill. I owe you a big one for that. I'm striving to set up a network, totally unofficial, with hopefully some contacts into government. Designed for 'mutie' protection — our families particularly."

"Good idea. If you are asking, I'm in — to the extent that my nation comes first for me — unless they start proscription; always unlikely but we can be made scapegoats."

"Done!" and they exchanged contact details bemoaning the delays inherent with working across a galaxy.

The call for the toasts (and accompanying speeches) was made and they returned to the hall.

"Oh dear!" TJ observed.

"Rather frigid in here, isn't it?" Hitchin observed wryly "Madame Eurocon must be furious at being outpointed by Mountserrat. She'll make her excuses as soon as the toasts are over, wager?"

"I am not familiar with such diplomatic behaviour, Bill, so I'll pass" TJ laughed.

The speeches were short and the toasts made whereat the reception disintegrated quickly with the distaffs leading the retreats. Mountserrat, smiling brightly, were the last to depart with effusive expressions of having had an enjoyable time. The Eurocon Ambassador smiled ruefully in return and shrugged — he'd lost this one but there was always the next one.

TJ had moved ahead of his party and was chatting with the Marine driver,

"Sarn't Collins sends his regards, Sir, wishes to remembered."

"He was corporal on "Naseby", I'd like to see him again."

"He thought you might — said to tell you, we go for a run around the grounds at two morning if you'd care to join us?"

"You're on. I'm junior so I'd better get in."

TJ listened in fascinated horror as the ladies(?) figuratively dismembered their counterparts at the Reception. He heard with increasing dread, Madame Ambassador, 'do call me Lucy', inveigle Clare Gillard into offering Morg's services as couturier; 'after all you aren't sailing until day after tomorrow'. As soon as The Ambassadorial party alighted, TJ texted Morg warning him. Acknowledged without comment. Ouch!

The ground car was at the guest house and TJ's offer to collect the baggage was accepted. His intention to remonstrate at the imposition on Morg and his assisstants evaporated upon entry as Clare Gillard smiled tipsily at him approaching like a hungry predator upon its prey,

"We feel like continuing the party, TJ"