We straightened to attention as the Captain strode in. There was no longer any nonsense about having forgotten how to stand to attention, or salute; indeed, I wished that I had had the foresight to put on my dress uniform instead of basic ship’s outfit. Roger looked even worse — he’d been in the Engineering Section when the summons had arrived and he was covered in oil stains — and Muna looked tired. It would have been her sleeping time, I remembered. It had to have been important for the Captain to summon anyone from their bunk. He wasn’t an inconsiderate sadist, unlike some instructors I could name.
“At ease,” he ordered, tightly. There was an expression in his face I couldn’t recognise at first… and then I realised that it was pride. “We will be docking at Orbit Nine in two days, as you know. The Jacques Delors will be replenishing her supplies there and preparing to embark on another patrol, unless Admiral Hoover decides that he requires the presence of another cruiser. You three, however, will not be remaining on this ship.”
I tensed, despite myself, before he smiled. “The Promotions Board has accepted my recommendation and accepted that the three of you will be promoted to Lieutenant,” he continued. He held up a hand before any of us could speak, as if we would have dared. We’d probably all been warned in advance — I knew that I had — but it hadn’t been real until the Captain had confirmed it. “Do not question this, or wonder why you were chosen when others, seemingly better qualified, were passed over in your favour. Accept this and make me proud of you when you take your posts on your next starship.”
Muna let out a quiet noise and I suspect that I joined her. None of us wanted to leave. “I do understand,” the Captain said, and in that moment he sounded much older and tired, too tired, than any of us had heard him before. “There is nothing quite like the starship you served on first, unless it’s your first command. You might just want to decline this promotion, or perhaps even request that you replace one of the Lieutenants on this starship, but that cannot be granted. The UNPF is going to need young men and women like you in positions of responsibility. I would not have pushed for your promotion if I didn’t feel that you could handle it.
“You all had a taste of a Lieutenant’s duties,” he added, “but you will discover that you never even scratched the surface. It depends on where you go after this ship, but you may discover that you will have harder work to do than you have ever faced before, or perhaps you’ll find that you are unable to face up to the challenge. I think that you can handle it. Do you want to try and prove me wrong?”
“No, sir,” we said, together. I was confused and conflicted, excited and terrified, all at the same time. I couldn’t have explained it, but somehow I was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
“Good,” the Captain said. He picked a folder up from his desk. “Roger Williamson?”
“Yes, sir?” Roger said.
“By the power vested in me as Captain of this vessel and the United Nations General Assembly, I hereby promote you to Lieutenant,” the Captain said. He stepped up to Roger and carefully removed the Ensign’s rank bars he wore, replacing them with a silver pair of stars. A moment later, he pulled away the pins Roger wore to mark his time in grade; as a Lieutenant, his seniority would return to zero. He was the most junior Lieutenant in the service. “Muna Mohammad?”
“Yes, sir?” Muna said.
“By the power vested in me as Captain of this vessel and the United Nations General Assembly, I hereby promote you to Lieutenant,” the Captain said. He altered her rank bars as well and then turned to me. “John Walker?”
I was as tense as a bridegroom on his big day, but the Captain didn’t seem to notice. I barely felt his touch as he removed my rank bars and replaced them with something new. I felt as if I could walk on air, all of a sudden; I was no longer an Ensign!
“You will be spending the last two days in your Wardroom, I’m afraid,” the Captain said. His lips twitched into a faint smile. “I should warn you not to use your new rank too much in the first few days, until you get used to it. You’re not secure in your rank until you set foot on your next ship.”
I understood the subtext. If we bullied the other Ensigns — the Ensigns, now — we might be demoted on the spot. I wasn’t sure if the Captain had the power to do that, but I wouldn’t have bet against it. We left the Captain’s cabin with our orders and didn’t burst into cheers until we were well away from Officer Country. It was absurd, in a way, but I felt silly wearing my new rank bars. They didn’t feel quite real, yet.
Roger opened his orders and peered at them. “Kofi Annan,” he said. “A battleship. What about you two?”
“Lover,” Muna said, puzzled. She frowned at her orders. “That’s not a standard name, is it?”
“It could be a specialist research platform,” Roger suggested. “John?”
“Devastator,” I said, almost as puzzled as Muna. “A Monitor. What’s a Monitor?”
Roger laughed at me. “It’s a planet-bombarding ship,” he said, amused. “They’re supposed to be a new class of ship; they only entered service a few years ago. No one likes to talk about them, for some reason.”
“I see,” I said, finally. We had reached the Observation Blister. “I’ll catch up with you later, all right?”
They waved goodbye and I stepped into the blister. The Senior Chief was standing there, waiting for me. “John,” he said, gravely. “Congratulations.”
I scowled at him. “Do I deserve them?”
“Perhaps,” the Senior Chief said. He waved a hand towards the unblinking stars. “Do you think that they care for a second if you deserve what you get or not?”
I touched the new rank badge. “They’re sending me to a Monitor,” I said, bemused. “What did I do to deserve that?”
“Caught that shipload of information hoarders,” the Senior Chief said. “You have seen the newscasts, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t had the time,” I replied, crossly. I was sick of playing games, yet I was sure that any attempt to use my new authority would be futile. The Senior Chief had known me as a lowly Ensign, barely worth the oxygen needed to keep me alive. “What have they been saying?”
“You’re their golden boy,” the Senior Chief said. He grinned, humourlessly. “You’ve been their poster child for the face of the United Nations, you know. You’ve got the right attitude to make it ahead in the service too…”
“I didn’t mean to,” I protested. “Chief, I didn’t…”
“So you said,” the Senior Chief said. “And, as I keep telling you, reality is what they make it. By now, you — and every other young officer who did something like it themselves — has had their past rewritten to make you heroes. You’ll be whatever they want you to be. The media will see to that.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. I touched the silver bars on my shoulder. “Did I earn these?”
“You played the game their way, quite by accident,” the Senior Chief agreed. “You must have realised by now that your ignorance is one of their weapons.”