Free A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) by Christopher Nuttall Page B

said.  She sat, facing a dark-skinned officer who regarded her with curious eyes.  “It's been far too long since I was on a starship.”
     
    She indicated her party as the Captain returned to his chair at the head of the table.  “Grace Scott, my assistant; Colonel John Mortimer, Security Expert; Professor Scott Nordstrom of Edinburgh University, Xenospecialist; Penny Schneider, embedded reporter.”
     
    The Captain’s eyes narrowed at Penny’s name, but he said nothing.  Joelle puzzled over it for a long moment, then remembered Penny telling her that her brother had been assigned to Warspite and then left behind on Vesy, in charge of the garrison there.  Later, Joelle had looked it up and confirmed that the Schneider children, born to a war hero and then adopted by another war hero with excellent aristocratic connections, were destined for a glittering future.  It was probably why Penny had won the coveted post of embedded reporter, despite her youth.
     
    “I read your paper on the implications of contact with the Vesy,” Captain Naiser said to Professor Nordstrom, once he’d introduced his crew.  “It was quite provocative.”
     
    “Thank you, Captain,” the Professor said.  “Unfortunately, I was not permitted to interview you before writing my paper.”
     
    “There’s little to add that didn't go in the reports,” the Captain said.  “They’re not human, really, and that’s the important issue.”
     
    Joelle nodded.  “We have some experience with non-human minds already, Captain,” she said.  “The dangers have been noted and logged.”
     
    “And we have more space for mistakes,” Colonel Mortimer added.  “The Vesy, quite simply, do not pose a threat to us.”
     
    “Not physically,” Professor Nordstrom said.  “However, it cannot be denied that contact with them may do us considerable social and political damage.”
     
    Joelle smiled, rather ruefully.  “Captain, can I suggest we eat first?  We’ll be here all night if he starts to discourse on the dangers.”
     
    “Of course,” the Captain said.  He signalled a steward, who came forward pushing a large trolley of soup bowls.  “We can stay here all night afterwards, if you wish.”
     
    The soup tasted faintly of carrot and coriander, Joelle discovered, as she sipped it thoughtfully and studied the crew.  Commander Howard - she’d taken the precaution of skimming through the personnel files during the flight to Warspite - looked calm and composed, while - beside him - Lieutenant-Commander Rosenberg appeared to be bored, although she was doing a good job of hiding it.  Joelle couldn't help a flicker of sympathy; she’d always hated ceremonial dinners as a junior representative, when she’d been too junior to be allowed to talk, but too senior to be left in her quarters.  Beyond her, the Chief Engineer had finished his soup and was muttering quietly to an officer she didn’t recognise.  The stewards removed the soup bowls as soon as they were finished, then started to bring out the next set of dishes.  They might have lacked the polish of the Foreign Office’s catering staff, she noted absently, but they were efficient.
     
    “That tasted better than I expected,” Grace muttered.
     
    “Remind me to discuss the definition of diplomacy with you later,” Joelle muttered back.  It had been a long time since she’d tasted military food, but she didn't remember it with any fondness.  “They brought this up from Earth for us.”
     
    Grace looked embarrassed, which faded quickly as she dug into her roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.  It wasn't something the average person on Earth would enjoy very often, not now; Joelle couldn't help a twinge of guilt as she recalled that rationing was still in place over large tracts of Britain.  Hell, one of the reasons more and more people were emigrating to Britannia or Nova Scotia was that there was no rationing there, as well as more room to breathe.  It