Biggles leant against the rail along the deck beside Mike Flynn and watched the Catalina disappear in the distance. One lone speck had disengaged itself from the circling trio high above and followed in the flying boat's wake, the other two remaining as escort for the patrol boat.

"How long till we reach Handy Cay?" Biggles asked idly.

"Roughly four hours, according to Nav," Mike looked heavenwards to the two small aircraft that were flying in wide circles in their effort to remain with the naval vessel. "What's their endurance?" he asked.

"We've had long-range tanks fitted to all our machines, but that will be stretching it," observed Biggles. "Don't worry, though. Algy'll send another couple out to take over. The boys will look after us," he smiled reassuringly.

"I'm sure they will," agreed Mike. He turned to face Biggles, his face serious. "I'm quite prepared to fire in self-defence. If anyone opens fire on my ship, I'll return the compliment. It won't be the first time we've seen action," he added. "My people's safety is of paramount importance to me."

"I understand what you're saying, Mike. My people's safety is important to me, too." Biggles gazed out to sea before turning back to the ship's captain. "But we're in the middle of a war. No commander can guarantee the safety of those who serve under him. All we can do is train our people, share our own experiences with them, and hope and pray they'll survive to fight another day." A small grin tugged at his mouth. "If you could have seen my gang of lunatics in the early days of the squadron, you'd have never dreamt they'd still be alive and flying together this far down the track. Watching the flying of one or two of them gave me the screaming heebie-jeebies – and still does for that matter," he laughed reminiscently, then his face was sober again. "But as I say, we're fighting a war that's been forced upon us by delusional megalomaniacs who want to enslave the free world. I've watched good friends shot down around me but I still have to continue sending good men out into combat." He reached out and lightly touched Mike's shoulder. "I'm sorry that you've found yourselves in this situation," he said seriously, "but I can't guarantee your safety or that of any of your crew. All I can do is offer you safe harbour at my base and we'll see where we go from there."

Mike returned Biggles' gaze for a long moment before turning to lean back against the rail as his eyes roamed the Hammersley, taking in the crewmembers going about their duties as if it were a normal day on patrol. This was his family. Patrol boat crews lived in one another's pockets and life was much less formal than on the larger frigates. Mike Flynn was renowned throughout the RAN as being wedded to patrol boats – the Hammersley in particular. He and his crew had served together for several years, and Mike had a running battle with his superiors in his efforts to avoid a long overdue promotion, which would see him off the boat. The Hammersley's captain was also renowned for conveniently losing any paper work relating to his promotion.

"You're going to have to give some thought to what you're going to do with your female crew members," Biggles' voice broke into Mike's thoughts.

"Do with them?" Mike frowned. "They're all serving members of the Royal Australian Navy on active duty. They are as well-trained and as capable as the male crew. As I said before, my XO is exceptional. She leads all the boarding parties and has come under fire more than once. There's not one man on this boat who would baulk at following her lead." He gestured towards the bridge. "Lieutenant Caetano may be young, but she's a damn good navigator and I count myself lucky to have her. Our chefo, Bomber, is a first rate cook, but she also participates in boarding parties and is more than competent not just to look after herself but the rest of the team. Everyone of them is a first class shot, and is not afraid to fire when necessary." He subjected Biggles to his death glare, but the British pilot was unfazed.

"I'm sure they are, Mike. Personally I know more than one young woman who is not just a competent pilot but who's also damn good in combat. They have to be, given the way things are in my part of the world just now." Biggles turned back to gaze back across the waters in front of them. "But, you will run into problems getting them recognised in those roles in this particular time. This isn't 2009; this is 1942. That's what I meant."

Mike ran his hands through his hair. He stared across the waters that had held his heart captive since his youth. "I've been in the Navy for over 20 years – joined up when I was 17 because I wanted to be at sea. There've been a lot of changes since then. And our acceptance of women on an equal footing with their male counterparts has been one of the better changes. I'm not about to let my female crewmembers be discriminated against simply because they're women. Those days are long gone."

There was silence between the two men until Mike turned to lean his back against the rail and surveyed his domain. "No one, male or female, signs up in the armed services if they're not prepared to go where their country sends them. And even in peacetime that can mean coming under fire. I've seen friends fall beside me, too, mate." He glanced at the man beside him. "Maybe not as many as you, but I do know what it means." He paused and let his eyes wander over his ship again. "I'm not going to let this crew be split up. We've been together too long and I'm responsible for my people, regardless of what time we happen to be in. That's not going to change."

"I completely understand," Biggles smiled sympathetically. "I have a question, though."

"Ask away."

"How does the Navy – or any of the Services in your time – manage the issue of relationships?"

As Biggles waited for an answer, he saw the captain's eyes turn towards the Bridge and the blonde Executive Officer sitting in the captain's chair. Finally Mike drew in a breath. "The Navy has strict rules – no fraternisation between shipmates. If anyone wishes to pursue a personal relationship with a fellow shipmate one or the other of them must transfer off the ship. Bringing personal relationships on board has the danger of impinging upon professional behaviour and could potentially endanger lives," he recited unemotionally.

He pushed himself away from the rail and looked back at Biggles.

"I'd better get back to the Bridge before the X starts thinking the ship's hers. Do you want to come, or would you rather stay out here?"

'I'll come, if you don't think I'll be in the way."

He was rewarded with a grin.