James scowled.  If the Captain had any relationships – or relations – away from Ark Royal, James had never seen anything of them.  But then, the Captain hadn't taken any leave for years, according to his file.  Had he simply become an introverted hermit on Ark Royal?  Or had he formed a relationship with one of the supply crewwomen?  Or crewmen?

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” he said.  He braced himself, then pushed forward.  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” the First Space Lord said.

“I rather thought we were,” Uncle Winchester said.

James ignored him.  “Sir, with all due respect, this whole conversation is dreadfully improper,” he said.  “I should not be asked to ... pass judgement on my commanding officer, certainly not outside a formal Board of Inquiry.  In any case, while I admit I had concerns about the Captain’s drinking, I have seen no evidence that he has returned to his old habits in the seven weeks I have served under his command.

“Furthermore, he is perhaps the most experienced officer we could hope to have with the older weapons that won us a victory,” he continued.  “Most newer officers, including myself, were trained to serve on modern carriers, not solid masses of metal like Ark Royal.  But those carriers are nothing more than targets for the alien starfighters.  We need him, sir.  We shouldn't be planning to stick a knife in his back.”

The First Space Lord’s expression darkened for a long moment.  James wondered if he'd gone too far, then reminded himself that at least he still had his pride.  And besides, Uncle Winchester would defend him, if necessary.  He still recalled the older man ticking off his aunt for assuming that James and his brothers had ruined her prize flowerbed.

“I concede your point,” the First Space Lord said, finally.  “However, there are ... issues with Captain Smith.  I shall be expecting you to watch him closely and take whatever action seems appropriate if the Captain slides back into drunkenness.”

He stood and marched out of the room.  James watched him go, then turned to look at his uncle.  “Farnham always was too political,” Uncle Winchester muttered.  “But at such high attitude, politics and war are always intermingled.  He’s better than most at running interference between politicians and naval officers.”

“Yes, uncle,” James agreed.

Uncle Winchester stood.  “Go back to the party, keep an eye on your junior officers and try to have fun,” he advised.  “Or go find a debutante and have some fun with her.  You’ll be back in space soon enough.”

James nodded.  The schedule had insisted that Ark Royal’s crewmen return to her immediately after the party.  He didn't really blame the organisers, not when the media were already laying siege to the building.  One careless word in the wrong pair of ears could trigger a political earthquake.