James had grown up in an aristocratic family, although he liked to think that he had made it into the navy on his own abilities.  As boring as aristocratic parties could be – and the reception was organised on the same principles – they were also an excellent chance to network.  He took a glass of water this time – getting tipsy could still be embarrassing, if not disastrous – and moved from person to person, keeping an eye on the other crewmen as he did.  Not all of them had any experience in parties and the last thing he wanted was to have to get them out of trouble.

“Ah, I hear you did well for yourself after all,” a voice said.  “Good show!”

James turned to see his Uncle Winchester, a retired naval officer of fifty years experience.  The grizzled old man had been one of the prime influences on his life, James had to admit, although he hadn't listened to everything the older man had taught him.  Trying to force his way into command of Ark Royal was something certain to annoy Uncle Winchester ... and the fact it had blown up in James’s face certain to amuse him.

“Yes, Uncle,” he said, remembering the models of carriers and escort vessels his uncle had given him as a child.  Some of them had been remarkably impractical, others prospective designs for future naval development.  Uncle Winchester, if he recalled correctly,  had actually had a hand in developing the modern carriers the aliens had torn apart.  “I have learnt a great deal from Captain Smith.”

“Glad to hear it,” Uncle Winchester said.  He placed a hand on James’s arm, half-pushing him towards a side room.  “You have to learn to walk before you can run.”

The sound of the band cut off the moment the door closed.  James hesitated, then turned to face his uncle.  The side rooms were often used for backroom dealing between people who could never be seen together in public, although there was no reason he couldn't speak to his uncle anywhere.  But then another door opened and the First Space Lord entered the room.

“Be seated,” the First Space Lord ordered, shortly.  “We don’t have much time.”

James swallowed and obeyed, feeling suddenly very unsure of his own ground.  He’d used the Old Boys Network to push the First Space Lord into promoting him, only to discover that his pressure only went so far.  In hindsight, he knew, Captain Smith had been entirely correct to point out that James was hardly ready for command of a modern carrier, let alone an ancient ship held together by improvised fixes and scrounged spare parts.  But it would be years, he suspected, before he was ever allowed to forget that he’d tried to snatch command out of the hands of his current CO.