Chapter 7- Queen's Orders?

Lane had occasionally day-dreamed about being knighted. Nowhere in those dreams had he been surrounded by a crowd of attractive women, a few in revealing clothing.

Well, he'd had that daydream as well, just not at the same time.

He stood up to the sound of polite clapping which made it sound more like he had just managed a hole-in-one than been knighted.

"You have Our leave to depart," said Elizabeth grandly. Remembering some vague idea of the protocol involved, he bowed and backed away from the "throne".

All the way into, as it happened, Hood. He turned around hurriedly. "I'm very sorry, miss."

She recovered her composure immediately. "Do not worry, I am unhurt." Indeed, despite his greater height and size, she had barely moved when he stumbled into her. "The Queen wishes you to attend tea with her in a few hours to discuss our strategy, as well as certain- political issues."

"Of course," said Lane, wondering if he was in some sort of dream. "Will the Mad Hatter be there as well?" He winced, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. Damned alcohol.

Hood gave him a very cool look. "Perhaps you should take some time to freshen up beforehand. Belfast will see to your needs."

"Belfast?" Lane smiled, his first genuine smile since this whole mess started. "That's my home- raised there man and boy."

"I'm sure you and she will get along splendidly, then. I shall summon her. Do make yourself comfortable." She gestured to a sofa, worn and old, but still serviceable. It looked vaguely like the one he had seen in Admiral Ramsay's office- in fact, it looked exactly like the one in Admiral Ramsay's office. "Where did you-" he turned around, but Hood was gone.

In her place was a young woman in an old-fashioned maid's dress. She curtsied. "I am Belfast, Commander. At your service."

He looked her up and down. "You're a warship?"

"Of course, Commander. All of us are."

"You're in a maid's uniform."

"I see I find you in a very perceptive mood today," she said, her voice very slightly amused. "If you will please accompany me...?"

"You also find me in a very intoxicated mood today," he muttered to himself. "Else I would never go along with this so easily." He followed her through the hodge-podge of partitions that the warships had apparently made their home.

They had, he was forced to admit, done quite well with what they'd found. The partitions were made of plywood, varnished with great care. Wainscoting had been added as well, making it appear- to casual inspection- that one was in a fairly posh mansion. Until you looked up and saw there was no ceiling. "You have done a great deal with this place."

"Yes, well, we were rather forced to fend for ourselves," she said as she led him down a side passage. "When the Queen refused to submit to the authority of the, ahem, other Royal Navy, they told us this disused aircraft hangar was the best they could do for accommodation." She shrugged, drawing Lane's attention to parts of her body that he felt sure he wouldn't have noticed if he were a proper gentleman. "We have done the best we could, though we've had to beg, borrow, and steal necessary supplies."

Lane raised an eyebrow. "Steal?"

"Figure of speech," said Belfast quickly.

At that moment, two figures came around the corner, carrying between them what Lane recognized as a mimeograph machine. The two women stopped as they caught side of Lane and Belfast.

There was a pause. "Begged or borrowed?" asked Lane cheerfully.

The two new warships- also dressed in maid clothing, noted Lane- looked at Belfast. She sighed.

"Captain Lane, this is Edinburgh and Sheffield, two of my fellow maids."

He doffed his cap. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Edinburgh, Miss-" he paused. "Sheffield?"

"Yes, that's right," she said, a curious tone to her voice. "Do I know you?"

"Probably you don't remember me. I was a midshipman aboard you."

Sheffield thought for a moment. "Short and stout. Always made fun of by the other officers for your accent." She looked him over. "Turned the fat into muscle, I see. I approve."

"Er, thanks." He felt an awkward pause coming on, so decided to head it off. "So where do I freshen up?"

"Somewhere with lots of coffee, I think," said Belfast.

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About an hour later, feeling tired but at least reasonably sober, Lane found himself at a table with the self-proclaimed Queen of the Royal Navy.

"I fear we find ourselves at a loss these days," said Elizabeth. She hesitated. "That's a regular we, by the way, not a royal one."

"I imagine so," replied Lane. He shrugged. "The Royal Navy has never been good at adjusting to the unexpected or out of the ordinary."

"Yes, quite. As you no doubt learned as a working class officer." Seeing his surprise, she added, "We read your dossier, you know."

"Royal we?" He asked, hoping that it was. The fewer people that knew of his shame, the better.

She shook her head. "Warspite?"

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"Be so kind as to expound upon what we've learned of Captain Lane's exploits."

"Very well." She closed her eyes, apparently to aid her memory. "Your father worked his way up to the rank of Head Constable of the Royal Irish Constabulary. He came into a small amount of money from an inheritance and decided to use it to hire tutors for you. You learned a number of subjects such as Latin, German, history, geometry, and so on. You took and successfully passed the Royal Naval College of Osborne's exam with flying colors." She opened her eyes and looked at Lane. "Considering the informal nature of your instruction, this indicates no mean intelligence."

Lane sat, keeping his face carefully neutral.

The ship-girls exchanged looks, but Warspite continued. "Midshipman aboard," she nodded at Sheffield, who was waiting on the table, "the Sheffield. At some point you managed to rid yourself of your accent entirely, no doubt to fit in better with the well-educated officer class."

Those posh English bastards, thought Lane. It seemed politic not to express the sentiment, though.

"Rose to Lieutenant Commander and placed in charge of the Glowworm, which participated in the Battle of Scapa Flow when the first Siren attacks began. You rammed a Siren heavy cruiser, allowing Glorious and Illustrious to escape."

"They were sunk a day later at their moorings," muttered Lane.

"Nevertheless, you won the DSC for that action." She pointed to the Distinguished Service Cross on his uniform. "Frankly, I think you should have won the Victoria Cross for that battle, particularly for how you saved the crew."

"My ship still sank," he said. "And considering that, I was happy with what I received."

"You were promoted to Commander and then almost immediately to Captain due to...attrition in the ranks of the RN. After commanding a destroyer squadron with distinction, you were promoted to Rear Admiral. Even considering the high casualty rate and commensurate rate of promotion, that is an impressive career trajectory."

"I didn't stay an admiral for long," said Lane.

"You are referring to the action in the Denmark Straits," put in Hood.

"A dozen Siren battleships with support vessels," said another woman who approached the table. "Forgive me for intruding- and for eavesdropping- but I did not know until now who this man was." She bowed deeply. "I am Prince of Wales, Captain."

He stood. "I..."

"You saved me there," said Wales. "And sank five of the Siren battleships." She smiled. "As well as a number of support vessels."

"I lost two battleships and virtually every cruiser and destroyer in the fleet. And I mean the entire fleet, not just my command. That was the last true battle we had with the Sirens, and it was a complete disaster."

"No," said Warspite. "It was incredible. You fought your command with astonishing skill. The destroyer ambush using the Sirens' fog against them was inspired."

Lane grimaced and looked at Hood. "You know the extent of my failure." He closed his eyes. "I am sorry."

"Only three of my crew survived," said Hood quietly.

He nodded. "I killed more than fourteen hundred men on you alone."

For a long moment there was silence. The other ship-girls watched Hood, who studied her tea. "I want to blame you," she said, her voice still low. "As ships, our crew is our life-blood, and I turned the ocean red that day." She looked up. "But that was my day to die, Captain Lane. You made it worth something."

Lane sat again, suddenly realizing how little sleep he'd had. "Maybe I did what I could," he said. "But the Admiralty didn't see it that way."

"The First Lord spoke on your behalf," said Elizabeth. "I had no say in appointing him, but I approve of his pugnacity."

The Irishman rolled his eyes. "If there's one thing Winston Churchill is good at, it's pugnacity. Though I've heard other words to describe it." He blushed, suddenly realizing even that mildly euphemistic phrase could be construed as rude in this company.
The Queen gave him a sharp look, but let it pass. "The point is, Captain, that you are the best available choice to serve as my Commander." The capitalization was audible. She leaned forward. "Though it is imperative you understand that you are my servant, not my master."

Lane raised an eyebrow and looked her in the eye. "Servant?" He stood up. "I fear I cannot abide by those terms."

There were gasps around the table. Elizabeth looked stunned. Warspite, her mouth open in shock, looked at the Queen and then back at Lane. She stood as well. "How dare you-"

Lane interrupted her, stabbing a finger toward her. "How dare I? You come into my room, demand I accompany you, then ask me to be a servant? I am an officer of the Royal Navy, not a gamekeeper or a butler." He took a step closer and the ship-girl took an involuntary step back. "I went along with this charade long enough. I'm going back to me room and getting some sleep." Inwardly, he winced as the last sentence was tinged with his native Irish brogue.

Warspite narrowed her eyes. "I can break you in half, Lane."

"It still won't make me serve your Queen, Warspite." He turned, taking his hat from Sheffield. Her face was perfectly blank, but- he noticed something in her eyes.

Approval?

Lane shook his head. His imagination, no doubt. He started to walk off.

"Wait," he heard.

He turned to see Elizabeth standing, one hand outstretched. "Yes? Are you commanding me?"

"No, I..." She looked away. "We need you."

"What?"

"Warspite." The Queen's voice was low.

Warspite looked at her questioningly, then her eyes widened and she gave a short, sharp nod. She turned to face Lane. "The Queen regrets her poor choice of words and asks that you consider a different arrangement."

Lane frowned. "What arrangement?"

Elizabeth beckoned and Warspite leaned down and he heard the Queen whispering into her ear. She straightened. "You will be in command of the Royal Navy, save for Her Majesty. The Queen orders-" she stopped and hesitated.

"Orders?" said Lane warningly.

"-requests that you listen to her advice and follow it whenever it is appropriate to do so."

Elizabeth looked chagrined, though Warspite still glowered at him. He had the impression that she valued the Queen's authority even more than the Queen did.

He considered it. There was no doubt in his mind that the supposed "queen" would still try to control him, but... to command again, even in this unorthodox fashion. There was still something he had to get straight, however. "Why do you need me?"

Warspite looked at him haughtily. "We don't need-"

"Because we're losing," broke in Wales.

There was a sudden silence. She looked around, almost challenging someone else to speak. Even Elizabeth looked away. "We were created to defend Great Britain, to create a steel wall around our island. To ensure the sea lanes stay open." She pointed outside. "I've been out there, Captain. I've seen our people starving, eking out an existence, growing food on every available patch of ground. Already, many of the weakest- the old and infirm- have died, and not just them." She walked forward until she was face to face with Lane. "We are quite good at what we do, Captain. But 'good' isn't good enough. You are an excellent, even superb commander, and we were lucky you were one of the few the Admiralty would give up to us." She extended a hand. "Please, Captain."

He looked around. The other ships met his eye as he gazed at each one in turn. Warspite still seemed angry, but was clearly willing to tamp it down to avoid a break. Hood looked at him calmly. He looked at Sheffield and she gave him a slight nod- as well as food for thought.

Elizabeth was clearly holding back tears. Dammit. He had never been good at dealing with weeping women. He knew he was going to regret this.

"Very well." Finally, he took Wales's hand.

Wales gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you. You can start in the morning. We usually start at seven o'clock."

"Fine." A thought struck him. "What time is it now?"

"Six."