"You failed?"
Stuart Reed stared incredulously across the lounge.
His son stared back at him. There was not a vestige of colour in his heir's face, though he held himself upright with the rigidity of shame.
"Yes, sir."
The older man drew several deep breaths, struggling to control his rage. In the chair at the other side of the hearth, Mary stirred as though contemplating putting out a hand towards their good-for-nothing offspring, but thought better of it and sat still.
"May we be told exactly in what way you failed?"
The carefully arranged tie moved, betraying a swallow. "Cowardice, sir."
"Cowardice?" He erupted out of his chair. "They accuse a Reed of cowardice? What the devil did you do?"
"That wasn't exactly how they phrased it, sir." His son's voice was so controlled it sounded expressionless. "I failed in the physical side of the tests. In the swimming, to be precise. I – panicked."
"Panicked?" Madeleine had been silent so far, but now she spoke up; she'd been invited home expressly to join in the celebrations when the newest generation of Reeds took up the family tradition. "But Mal, you've been working on it – you told me you can swim now!"
"I can. It wasn't that." A desperate glance flicked in her direction. "Something happened – I tried everything – I –"
"You panicked!" Fury impelled Stuart across the couple of metres that separated him and his son. He yelled so hard that spittle sprayed the white face opposite him. "You lost your ruddy nerve in a few metres of water? You threw away a career because you're a rotten little coward as well as a weakling? So what exactly do you propose to do with your life now? Your mother and I won't keep you!"
"I can still have a career, sir." Ramrod straight, as straight as he should have stood on the bridge of his own ship one day. Hell and blast and damnation take the day the whelp had been born. "I've had an offer –"
"From a gay-boy whorehouse? It's all you're fit for!"
"... from Starfleet." The grey eyes so unlike his own stared back at him with despairing defiance. "They've accepted me for officer training."
"STARFLEET!" His scream made even Madeleine step back. "That parcel of Yank nancy-boys and their bloody 'warp drive'! The sea not good enough for you, eh? Generations of Reeds not enough for you to live up to? Well, get out there and good riddance. The Yanks may accept second-best, but the Royal Navy needs real men, real officers. I'm just ashamed it had to be my son who wasn't good enough. Now get out of my sight!"
"Yes, sir." The boy actually had the effrontery to glance at his mother. Fortunately Mary had the self-discipline to keep her eyes lowered.
Madeleine, however, would have earned herself a whipping if she'd been five years younger. She caught at her brother's arm as he went to walk blindly out of the room. "Good luck, Mal. Keep in touch, will you?"
No answer, just a curt nod before he pulled away and walked out.
The front door opened and closed.
"Nice one, Dad."
TBC
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