Chapter Text
GEORGE, by the grace of God King of Great Britain & Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc. To the Sheriff of Westminster, Captain A. Bailey, I do hereby command that you summon Commander J. H. Shepard of my Royal Navy to appear before our Royal Naval Administrative Court upon the fourth Thursday of this month to answer in regard to the matter of General Saren Arterius of the Ottoman Empire, and have thus sent this word through Venari Pallin, clerk of our said court this 21st day of March in the vii year of our Reign 1720.
V. Pallin
Shepard sighed. “Again?” She folded the small parchment and shoved it into her inner coat pocket.
“I’m afraid so, Commander.” Captain Bailey shrugged, his deep voice betraying that he was about as tired of being asked to deliver her court summons as she was of receiving them.
“What more could they possibly want to ask me?” Shepard asked, as she had asked the last three times Bailey had come to serve a summons notice. He shook his head in silence, as he always did.
“Well then,” Shepard added simply, “Tea?” She stepped aside to allow the Police Captain into her small townhouse.
“Thank you, Commander, I would welcome a break,” Bailey responded, in a pattern which had by now been comfortably established, and stepped inside.
It was not every day that the Police Captain personally delivered court summons, and not every day that he took tea with the witness-stroke-suspect of an open investigation. But Shepard’s case was far from everyday.
“Kettle’s on,” she commented as she went to fetch the tray. Bailey made himself comfortable in her small living space, taking a stool by the fire. The room was relatively spartan; the temporary living space of a junior officer, although ‘temporary’ was becoming an ever more relative term.
He sighed and stretched, setting aside his Captain's hat, “You know, no one else ever invites me for tea,” he muttered ryely as Shepard returned.
“You mean no one else welcomes the, what is this, seventh summons? In three months?” Shepard took her seat across from him, reclining on the simple wooden chair that normally served her writing desk. “What will you do when they finally see fit to leave me alone?”
“At this rate, I’ll have retired by then.”
Shepard merely hummed a response, drowned by the whistle of the kettle hung over the fire. She filled the teapot and a comfortable silence filled the room along with the pleasant smell. It was these moments that Shepard really enjoyed. She had met Bailey a few months back, and had seen more of the Police Captain than any innocent person should. But she appreciated his frank longsuffering, and he appreciated her lack of put-on airs in the face of the bureaucrats with which he had to deal every day. And in a place like the Administrative Courts, even a little camaraderie went a long way.
“Really, though, Bailey, any idea what’s going on? Off the record, and all that,” She broke the silence at length and poured their tea.
“You know these knobs,” Bailey offered. “They don’t need a reason to bug the likes of you and me. But there is something new this time, or someone. Some high up or some such. I haven’t met him, but he’s already a pain in my ass.”
“Let me guess,” Shepard interrupted, “They want me to tell him everything I already told the last four supervisors, because he can’t be bothered to read their notes.”
“Sounds like it.” Bailey had a way of shrugging the communicated even more than his dead tone the resignation behind his word. “Maybe they’re just keeping this up to make sure I get some tea,” He made a satisfied noise as he took a sip.
At that, Shepard laughed. “No offence, Bailey, but I’d rather be back at sea. ‘On leave’ my ass. They should either have you arrest me, or give me back my command.”
“Mmm. None taken,” Bailey took another drink of his tea. “I hear that repairs on the Normandy are nearly complete.” Shepard raised an eyebrow. “What? I keep up. I saw her when you brought her in, too. Nasty stuff.”
“You’ve no idea,” Shepard was suddenly far away.
“More idea than those ‘Investigators’ who can’t be satisfied with what they’ve got.”
Shepard nodded, but did not seem to return; her eyes cast unfocused towards the wall behind him.
“Listen, I should be going, Shepard. Thanks for the tea.”
“Of course,” Shepard snapped back to life. “I’m sure I’ll see you on Thursday, Captain.”
“Well, either you make sure of it, or I have to,” Bailey joked, “I’ll see you then.”
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“With respect, Lord Chancellor, I can only say this so many times and in so many ways. I have told you everything I know on the matter and have sworn before God and man: The last time I saw General Arterius he was most definitely alive, and was, by his own testimony, on his way to see the Ambassador. How it came about that he did not arrive at that goal, I do not know, and what I do not know, I cannot say. You may not wish to believe me, Chancellor, but you will gain nothing else from me but this truth, as extensive and plain as I can form into words.”
Shepard stared at him, unblinking, for a long moment, trying to make the statement sound as final as she could. He pressed her anyway.
“I understand, Commander,” Lord Chancellor Udina nodded slowly, as if he did in fact understand. In his hands was a fine porcelain teacup and saucer; a more effective weapon and shield in the right hands than any blade. “Know that neither I nor anyone here is accusing you of anything. I have read your statement, but given the… sensitive nature of this case, thought it best to hear it from you myself.” Of course he did. “And so, if you will, let us start at the beginning.”
Shepard took a deep breath and let it out, resisting the urge to fidget with the firm cravat scratching her throat. “Very well,” She began on what was the sixth - no, seventh - official retelling of her statement in three months. But who was counting?
Shepard started with the facts, as she always did. It was an account she had at this point all but memorized. “On the Seventh day of November the HMS Normandy set sail from London on her maiden voyage; a transatlantic journey to conduct General Arterius of the Ottoman Empire to the British colonies in the Americas, which, I am told, he was to tour. The ship had been entrusted to my command by Admiral Anderson -“
“Is it normal for someone of your rank to be entrusted with such a command?”
Shepard blinked, momentarily stunned by the interruption of her now much rehearsed tale. “I suppose you would have to ask the Admiral, Chancellor. It was not a command which I selected myself.” If Udina recognized the disdain in her tone, he did not show it.
“The Normandy is a fourth-rate frigate, with almost fifty guns, Commander.” He pressed, as if she did not know.
“Yes.”
“To be in command over such a vessel at your age and before attaining the rank of Captain is…” The weight of Shepard’s glare seemed to finally be having an effect. “Unusual.”
“Again, Chancellor, I would defer to the Admiral.” Shepard sidestepped the obvious challenge to her fitness. “May I continue?”
He nodded, and Shepard felt that life was won in these small victories.
“We had nine days of smooth sailing before the weather took a sharp and unexpected turn - as sharp an unexpected as I have ever witnessed. That area, though vast, is normally placid, almost to the point of doldrum, save in the case of a hurricane, which any seaman could tell you would be most out of season.”
Lord Chancellor Udina was not even taking notes. He sipped his tea as she recounted.
“It was just about sunset when we first spotted the clouds, which came up suddenly from the northwest. I elected to take watch that evening, and it wasn’t long after we needed every hand on deck.”