Free Fear God and Dread Naught by Christopher Nuttall

First Middy.”
     
    George thought rapidly.  She wasn't very senior at all - she’d had about seven months as a midshipman - but her seniority had been boosted.  And she was the sole experienced midshipman left on Vanguard , the only one who was already familiar with the ship and her crew.  Still ... nineteen months, give or take a few days.  There were midshipmen who had - should have had - two or three years on her before their careers started to stagnate.  She couldn't help thinking that there was trouble ahead.
     
    “You’re sure about this?”  She asked.  “Really?”
     
    “I do know how to count the years,” Fraser said, dryly.  “And you’re meant to call me sir when you’re speaking to me.”
     
    George coloured.  “Sorry, sir.”
     
    “That’s better,” Fraser said.  He cleared his throat.  “Midshipman Simon Potter is only a couple of days short of being First Middy himself, so you should probably keep an eye on him.  The last thing you need is to be beached for a week with an ambitious toad in the background.  His record is suspiciously blank, which worries me.  Chances are his commander let him go without a fight for reasons that were never written down.”
     
    “I see,” George said.  “How do you know that, sir?”
     
    “Long experience,” Fraser said.  “Potter is, in theory, on the fast-track to promotion.  But if his CO let him go, there’s something wrong with him that was never written into his file.”
     
    George scowled.  There were files - and subsections of files - that neither she nor Fraser could access.  If something had been written down there, she wouldn't be able to see it, unless she convinced a senior officer to allow her access.  And merely making the request would be enough to get her in trouble, unless she came up with a very convincing reason.
     
    “Maybe he has a powerful family, sir,” she mused.  “Does he?”
     
    “Not as far as I can tell,” Fraser said.  “But you’d know more about that than I would.”
     
    “Yes, sir,” George said.  He was right.  The world of the aristocracy was larger than most people imagined, but she knew - either personally or by reputation - everyone in the same age bracket as herself.  She’d never heard of a Simon Potter.  “It could be a false name, I suppose.”
     
    “Perhaps,” Fraser said.  He gave her a nasty, sharp-edged smile.  “But he’s your problem now, First Middy .”
     
    George felt her scowl deepen.  She could ask for advice, if she wished, but it would be taken as a sign of weakness.  Fraser might not report her to the XO - she had no idea how he’d react - yet she knew it would be held against her.  And, oddly, she found that she wanted his respect.  Winning him over would be a coup in its own right.
     
    “The other experienced midshipman - midshipwoman - is Paula Spurgeon,” Fraser explained, after a long moment.  “Her file is rather interesting, with just enough written down to convince me that there’s something else hidden in the classified sections.  From what I have been able to glean from the open sections, she was beached for two years after an ... incident ... on HMS Queen Elizabeth .  I’m honestly surprised she didn't resign, given that much of a beaching.  Her chances of promotion have to be non-existent.”
     
    “And it would take years to rebuild her seniority, sir,” George mused.  She couldn’t help wondering if Fraser felt any sympathy for the older woman.  “She might live and die a midshipwoman.”
     
    “Probably,” Fraser agreed.  “You should keep an eye on her too.  She might well be bitter and resentful - and we have no idea what actually happened on Queen Liz .  It’s possible she might have had an illegitimate affair” - he gave George a sharp look - “or it could be something a great deal more serious.”
     
    “Perhaps she rammed an asteroid, sir,” George said.  Fraser’s comments were hitting a little