Back from their latest training cruise, Will hardly had time to sit down in his cabin before he was summoned to see Admiral Huntington. He was still hastily tying his tie into a fresh knot when he was admitted into the admiral's office, who regarded him with a smile. "Captain Murdoch, I trust things proceeded well."

"Very well." Will stood up straighter. "I could not be more pleased by the refit to the Unicorn."

"The engines performed well with the new system?"

"According to my engineers they ran at their normal rate with a greater efficiency in fuel usage." Will couldn't help a bit of pride at that. "We were able to stay out much longer on the fuel oil."

"I'm aware of that," Huntington chuckled, then gestured for him to sit. "That destroyer wasn't pleased to have been sent back to act as a collier for the others."

"I'm quite sure her commander will get over it." Will sat, keeping his posture upright. "If I may ask, why did you have me summoned sir? I could have sent you a report on our performance."

Huntington leaned back, clearly eyeing him. "What about the gunnery?"

"The men continue to improve." Will shifted, "They show great improvement with the fire control."

"Your hit rate?"

"On the nearer targets, we can achieve fifteen to twenty percent. On the farthest targets, at the maximum range of our guns, five percent." Will pursed his lips, resisting the urge to twist his hands. "We can improve further, Admiral, I assure you."

Huntington held up his hand, "Those are perfectly respectable percentages, Captain Murdoch. In fact, if those percentages can be reliably maintained during your time in Rosyth, then the Unicorn will prove a hugely important asset to the First Battlecruiser Squadron."

Will furrowed his brow, "Sir, you don't mean you think we're ready to head up for active service?"

"Oh yes," Huntington snorted, shaking his head. "Personally, I would allow you a few more cruises, but Beatty has been hammering at me to send you up. Which means that once you're refueled and reprovisioned, you'll be heading up to Rosyth with your escorts in order to join up with the squadron."

Will swallowed. "I'll inform my officers, sir."

"It will be a day or two to get the ship ready, have all the men know where to have their sweethearts send their mail." He snickered, looking very much like a little boy for a moment. "Sometimes it seems like we load more mail than food."

"I've had enough experience with mail to last me a lifetime." Will stood, nodding to Huntington. "With your permission?"

The Admiral waved his hand, dismissing him. "Go write your wife, although I'd tell her to leave off with the trousers if she comes to visit you up there. I doubt it would go over well."

Will blushed a bit at that, and ducked his head as he left the office to hide it. The last thing he needed at the moment was to be thinking of Ana in trousers, not if he was to take his ship up to Rosyth. He remembered the docks, the trip up the Firth of Forth past Edinburgh, and the pub he had enjoyed.

He also remembered the career Navy men there.

Bligh was bad enough to deal with, and he was only the captain of a destroyer! Now Will would have to deal with men commanding battleships and admirals, all of whom knew each other for years before the war started. He'd be an outsider yet again, a target for any man looking to advance his own career. Will hardly cared about his own career, but he knew he was the rarity. Men would give their front teeth to be in his position, and he had no doubt that there would be whispers that a ship like the Unicorn would be better off in the care of a man who actually knew what he was doing.

His thoughts must have shown on his face when he arrived back to his quarters, sitting heavily at his desk. Sharpe, coming in to deliver a stack of mail, paused and considered him. "Sir, is something troubling you?"

Will looked up, taking in the man leaning heavily on his cane. "We're to join the fleet at Rosyth as soon as the ship is ready."

"Ah," Sharpe smiled, and sat when Will gestured for him to. "The men will be pleased by that, at least they're going to be out on patrols with a purpose now."

Will folded his hands together, resting his chin on the thumbs. "Or be led into battle."

Sharpe cocked his head. "If you don't mind me saying, sir, you don't seem pleased."

"It's just," Will sighed, relaxing back into his chair. "I worry that it will be like before, with Bligh."

"I wouldn't." Sharpe shrugged, then tapped the side of the desk with his cane. "You're in a much higher position, sir, with your own command. A command given to you through your own merits, at that. Most of the men there were promoted based on their time served, or the people they know."

Will digested that statement for a moment. "I have a feeling that will put me at a disadvantage."

"Then you simply need to build your own relationships with them." Sharpe suddenly got a wicked grin on his face. "I'm sure your wife would help with that, especially if she came up for another tour."

Will chuckled, "I'm not sure Ana would be able to flatter them enough."

"Oh, it's not just the captains, sir, she could begin speaking to their wives." Sharpe stood, rapping his cane on the floor. "It seems officer's wives do more intriguing than the nobility sometimes, and it often leads to plush positions for their men." Will shook his head, laughing to himself as Sharpe headed out. The mail he had been left was quickly sorted, and he slit open an envelope that he had been intrigued by. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the signature was not.

Captain Murdoch,

I hope that you will not mind my correspondence given our previous acquaintance, I trust you remember me. It has been some years since we spoke, but I remember you well. I was much pleased to meet your wife recently, although I wish the circumstances were better. The papers will report that she acquitted herself well, and she did, although I had to pull her into a private conversation regarding her testimony.

I would caution you to not show this letter to anyone on your ship involved in Intelligence, as it appears some members of that branch have concerns about her. I called her in speak to her regarding some discrepancies in her testimony, which she readily remedied. She did reveal that she only spoke as she did during the inquiry due to an Intelligence agent threatening to release false information related to the both of you.

I pity that woman, having been through such a tragedy and then being abused like this. You may wish to bring up this treatment to your commanding officer, a captain's wife should not be treated such.

I would like to pass on my own hopes for an outstanding career for you,

John Bingham, Viscount Mersey

Will set the letter down with a curse, rubbing his eyes. Ana was being blackmailed, that was fairly obvious. He had no doubt it was Campbell, although for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. What was she going to say in her testimony that was so threatening to Campbell that he had to force her to be quiet? She obviously hadn't been willing to go along with what he desired of her willingly, not if she spoke so easily to Mersey about it.

He set the letter aside, drawing out a sheet of paper.

My Dearest Ana,

I hope the inquiry was not too trying on you, although I must admit I have received a strange letter from Lord Mersey. He alleges that you were blackmailed, and I assume it could only be Lieutenant Campbell. I hope that you were not going to hide this from me, not after we reached our agreement. I have a secret of my own to share with you and only a short moment to jot it down, for we are being reassigned to Rosyth. It will be good to get back to Scotland, although I wish it did not take me so far from you. Please write to me as always, and hopefully with an explanation that will allow me to push for Campbell being discharged.

All the love from your jolly sailor bold,

Will

He folded the letter up, and was quite glad he did for Sam decided to jump onto his desk and scatter his letters. Will shook his head, picking the letters up and restacking them. He lifted Sam, chuckling. "You are a menace, now, off with you." He opened the door to his office, gently shoving the cat out. "Go find a mouse, earn your keep."

Sam raced off, and Will followed. It was time for dinner, and time for him to inform his officers of their change in circumstances. The cook was obviously glad to be back in port, for he had outdone himself. He had also arranged for a good deal of wine to be served with the various courses, and Will allowed the first course of pea soup to pass before speaking. "Gentlemen, I have news."

The clatter of silverware quieted down, and all eyes turned to him. Will took a breath, standing. "Once we are reprovisioned and any needed repairs finished, the Unicorn will be joining the First Battlecruiser Squadron at Rosyth."

Tyne led the men in rapping on the table in celebration, all of them smiles and good cheer. There was a good deal of pride to them as well, and Will had no doubt the men who had been with the ship since the war started would be glad to be considered ready for service. Even Sharpe was grinning as he helped the other steward clear away the soup and bring in the next course, a tunny that was quickly sliced.

Will picked at his fish, drawing the attention of Nettles. He leaned over from his place next to him, "Sir, are you not pleased by being called up to active duty?"

He took a swallow of wine, setting his glass back down carefully. "Of course, I am," He glanced down the table, "It's just, they're going to be walking into a snake pit up there."

Nettles furrowed his brow, "Why do you say that?"

"There's a prejudice against Reservists." Will ate a forkful of fish, perfectly flaky and sweet. "They'll suffer for serving under me, and you."

"Sir, they're proud to serve on your ship." Nettles nodded his head to the other men, "You're a good captain, and your command has brought this ship out of the state she was in. You've turned this bunch of men into proper sailors and officers, there's bound to be some loyalty to you for that."

Will waited for the clatter of dishes as the next course, beef pie, was brought out to hide his whispers. "What if word about Titanic gets out? I'll be a laughingstock."

"If so, you must keep yourself above reproach." Nettles took a sip of wine. "Unfortunately, it means your wife won't be allowed her trousers onboard."

Will chuckled at that, although it didn't serve to settle his nerves completely. Keeping himself above reproach, now that would be a heavy task. Most men could get away with getting drunk with their officers, so long as it wasn't on duty. He knew a good deal of them probably had girls in port, where their wives never visited. He had no doubt they pushed for their own promotion and the demotion of their rivals. He was going to be in that mess, and be a target.

It was while the tot of rum was being served with dessert that he had a realization.

All those men fought and scraped with each other because it was their career. He didn't have to worry about that, so he could hold himself above their squabbles. He didn't get drunk often, so he simply needed to keep a level head. And as for girls? Why would he need a girl in port when he had Ana waiting for him? He'd bring her up whenever he could, and he'd put their girls to shame with her on his arm.

He was smiling as he drank.

Sylvie still could not believe that Anastasia was not related to the young captain in her office, the two bickered like siblings and she had to clear her throat before either noticed her. She remembered Ezekiel from New York, and he clearly remembered her for he nodded to her, sending his red hair tumbling. "Ah, Mrs. Lightoller, good to see you again. I assume you're the one coming onboard today?"

Anastasia, standing behind her desk, rolled her eyes. "You know she is, I told you she was!"

"You told me she was getting part of the food."

"And I said she'd be coming onboard to see where it is in case we can't have it delivered!" Anastasia walked out from behind her desk, trailed by Rigel. Sylvie couldn't help but chuckle as she embraced her briefly, her brown eyes still rather annoyed. "Honestly, men, sometimes they drive me mad."

"In the best ways." Sylvie replied, then looked to where her children has trailed in behind her. Roger and Trevor were grinning, while Mavis, her hand clutched in Roger's, stared. Sylvie nodded, "Well, go on then, greet your aunt."

Roger eagerly tugged his sister forward, her steps still a bit unsteady. "Go on, Mavis, say it!" He looked up to Ana, his smile wide as he looked back to his sister. "Ah, come on you know it, ahhh."

Mavis screwed up her face, and her words were halting but clear. "Ah-Aunt Anna."

Anastasia covered her mouth with a hand, sinking down to her knees to embrace the little girl. "Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing."

"I taught her, well, Trevor helped too." Roger drew himself up proudly, and his brother came over to mirror his pose. "If she can say our names, she can say yours."

"You two were very clever." Anastasia reached out, drawing the two in for a hug. "Your mother should be very proud."

"I am." Sylvie smirked, "Especially since I gave them the idea." That made Anastasia laugh loudly, and even Ezekiel shook his head while chuckling. The children were collected, and she made sure Anastasia carried Mavis. Motherhood would suit Anastasia well when it came for her, for she allowed Mavis to babble as she like while they made their way down to the docks. They were crowded with ships, men hustling past and trucks trundling by.

Sylvie kept tight hold of the boys' hands, for they were their father's sons and would hurtle themselves in the direction of anything that caught their interest. Given how Roger was staring at a massive ship's crane that was unloading a net of cargo, she needed to keep her grip even tighter. Eventually they reached Ezekiel's ship, the Abraham.

Anastasia teased Ezekiel as they walked past the ship's nameplate. "You know, you could have taken the William."

"And have you needle me every time about bringing your husband to you?" Ezekiel turned around, walking backwards. "I'd rather have to deal with my mother's remarks about how I need to not handle my father roughly in his old age."

"That is not a ship in old age." Sylvie snorted, "And I'm quite sure you handle her well."

"At least one of you thinks that." He grumbled, turning back around to lead them up the gangplank. The ship still had a good deal of her crew onboard, but they made way for them as Ezekiel led them down into the cargo holds. The holds were still stuffed full, and the refrigerated ones were cold enough that she could feel the cold if she put her hand to the bulkhead.

Sylvie glanced to Ezekiel, "You're still running her."

"Our trucks are delayed." He shook his head, "But, it gives you time to pick out what you like of Anastasia's presents."

She blushed, "Oh, I could never, those are from her mother."

"And you are a far better cook than I am." Anastasis shifted Mavis, who was currently amusing herself with a piece of blonde hair that had fallen out of its pins. "So please, take what you like. We'll both be eating it." She lifted Mavis up, smiling as she looked from her to the children. "Besides, you have more to feed. These three, soon to be four, need all they can get."

Ezekiel looked back to Sylvie, blushing in the electric lights. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Sylvie ducked her head, letting go of Trevor's hand to rub her belly briefly. It was early, but she had a good feeling about this one. She'd never lost a child, and Bertie always said she was the most beautiful when her belly was large and she was complaining about everything. Fortunately, her stomach had been mostly settled, she needed to keep as much of their rationed food down as she could.

But they wouldn't have that worry now.

Ezekiel lifted a crowbar, opening a crate to display a wealth of foodstuffs that Sylvie hadn't seen since the war started. Bags of flour and sugar, boxes of candy and chocolate, even some glass bottles of cola had been wrapped in fabric and packed in straw to survive the trip. Ezekiel pulled those out, using the crowbar to open one for each of them. He lifted his own in a toast, "Quite a feast, eh?"

"Indeed." Sylvie was already sorting through what she would take in her mind. "This should last us quite a while."

"Well, Ruth has me bringing this over once a month." Ezekiel set the lid back down, "Now, we'll show you the cold holds. There's some meat for you, and that will come more often than once a month." They had only reached the door to the hold when a crewman practically flew in, whispering harshly to Ezekiel. His face paled, and he looked to the man. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir." The man nodded hastily, "Everyone saw."

Ezekiel closed his eyes briefly, "Very well, call everyone up on deck." He turned back to the two women and the children, "We're going up on deck, now."

Anastasia shifted Mavis in her arms as they moved for the stairway they had taken down, "Zeke, what is it?"

"Later, Annie." He hissed, climbing the stairs. "Give me her, all of you need to move faster. Take one of the boys."

Sylvie resisted reaching for Mavis as Anastasia handed her over, instead lifting Roger into her arms. He quickly wrapped his hands around her, doing his best to settle himself where he could whisper in her ear as they climbed. "Mama, is the ship sinking?"

"No," She held him a little tighter, doing her best to ignore how the added weight was making her foot hurt badly. She could endure it if it got her sons to safety. "There must be something to see up on deck. What do you think it is? A circus boat?" She let Roger distract himself with that, letting him talk about the lions and tigers that would be waiting on the docks. They'd be crowded with elephants and prancing horses, clowns doing tricks and strongmen lifting crates above their heads.

Little boys should think of things like that, not war.

When they reached the deck, Ezekiel dragged them up to the bridge and headed inside. Mavis was set back down on the deck, and Anastasia grunted as she set Trevor down. "Zeke, you need to explain, now."

He burst through the door, two pairs of binoculars clutched in his hands. "Here, look up." He put a pair to his eyes, hastily scanning the sky. "Come on, come on."

Sylvie stared up as Anastasia lifted her own pair, doing her best to look through the overcast sky for something. She felt her children grab at her skirt, all of them looking up. It was while she was examining what turned out to be a cloud, that the silence struck her. Docks were always noisy, ship's horns blowing, trucks honking, men cursing as they loaded crates, horses neighing, but now, it was silent.

She looked away from the sky for a moment, seeing that everyone was looking up. Every ship's crew was on deck, and as she watched a hushed group of office workers came out and bustled up the gangplank of one ship. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she turned to Ezekiel, "It's a zeppelin, isn't it?"

He nodded, pulling the binoculars from his eyes and holding them out to her. "Yes, and he's low."

She put the glasses to her eyes, and after searching for a moment, found the gray bit of sky that was moving far too regularly. Once she had found it, it was obvious. A massive frame of gray membrane that held itself aloft above the city, its engines pushing it on. They were low, as far as she could tell, and she had no doubt they were carrying bombs.

Anastasia must have finally found it, for she gasped as she dropped her glasses. "Zeke, it's going to bomb us."

"Maybe." Ezekiel rocked his head, his eyes fixed on the zeppelin. "But if it does, we'll get out of here."

Sylvie looked over; her brow furrowed. "How?"

"The engines are kept ready," Ezekiel returned his glasses to his eyes. "And there's men with axes on the mooring lines, if it looks like he'll drop his bombs over here, we'll cut our lines and strike out into the Solent until he leaves."

"Clever." Sylvie admitted, and it was no wonder why everyone was on deck. Only an engineer or two would be needed to rush down and release the steam to the engines, and it was far harder for those bombs to hit a moving target.

Ezekiel smirked, "It was Welton's idea, actually. He just asked that one ship stay a bit longer for the clerks to board."

"It's leaving." Anastasia announced, drawing the attention of the crew. "Look, it's turning away." Sylvie lifted her own glasses up, noting that the zeppelin was indeed moving away from the docks and beating on up the Thames.

She set her glasses down, "I think it's headed for London." She bent over to look at her children, all of them pale. "It's alright, my dears, it's alright."

Trevor still had his hand fisted in her skirt, "They're going to bomb us, Mama."

"No, no," She kissed his head, "They're going to do nothing of the sort, and I don't want you to think about that ever again. We're going to go home and eat some of that chocolate that we saw, doesn't that sound nice?"

Roger and Trevor agreed that it did, although Mavis was still clutching her skirt tightly. When Sylvie tried to untangle her hand, she started crying. Anastasia reached down to help, "Come on now, sweetheart, it's alright." Anastasia kept soothing, until Mavis let go of Sylvie's skirt to fling herself into her arms. "I've got you dear, nothing's wrong."

Sylvie gave her a smile, "Thank you, poor thing must be so scared."

"She's not the only one," Anastasia shifted Mavis so she could put her head on her shoulder. "I'll need to write Will about this, he'll want to know."

"And I'll write Bertie." Sylvie muttered, beginning to lead their little band toward the gangplank. "Maybe he'll know something they're able to do to chase them off."

"What can they do?" Anastasia sighed, negotiating the plank with her added burden. "Those zeppelins are so high; nothing can reach them."

Sylvie herded her children into Anastasia's car, joining her up front. "There has to be something that can get at them, and Bertie is very good at figuring those things out." She took in her children, clutching each other in the backseat. "Especially if his children are at risk, then he gets ruthless."