Two hours later, Buck stood on the bridge of the Reverent looking at the ships in front of her. There were several, all clustered in a small group. They were classes she recognised… almost. If she squinted and looked sideways.
”Someone tell me what I’m looking at,” she ordered. “And if any smartass replies ‘starships’, I hear that Commander Grey is looking for someone to scrub manifolds down in engineering.”
There was a silence on the bridge that told her that particular answer had been hurrying to at least three people’s lips.
“Okay,” Voss was the first to speak up, the chief science officer on the bridge for once. Normally she had to threaten or cajol him out of the science department, but here he was, even if he was spending half his time eyeing Commander Savage either in fascination or horror. She wasn’t sure which and she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.
“Scans indicate that the one on the left was something similar to our Nova class. But, it appears to have been modified. Extensively.”
She looked at the ship in question and frowned. Yes, she could just make out the nova spaceframe under what appeared to be a huge hydroponics dome.
“The USS Aconitum,” Commander Savage provided from the seat beside where Buck was standing. “Which is the latin name of—“
“Wolfsbane,” Buck said. “It’s a particularly nasty poison. Given that’s the ship name, I don’t think I want to walk through whatever they have in that garden. Okay, so potentially that’s a medical or biological research ship. What about the others?”
“All map to classes somewhat similar to ours,” Voss said, frowning at his console. His hands flowed gracefully over the console as he pulled up scans, and records, compared them and then discarded them. “You’d need Grey up here to make an assessment on the spaceframes, but we have two adapted Reliants, I think that’s an Olympic in the center, and the Brooks looks to be a defiant class of some sort.”
She nodded, her focus locked onto the ship this reality’s version of Ryx Veyr had chosen. Of course it was a warship, what else would it possibly have been?
But the Brooks was not anything like their reality’s version of a Defiant. It was altogether bigger, meaner-looking, and had way more weaponry on it. And for what was essentially an engine with guns strapped to it, that was saying something.
“Computer, please inform Commander Grey that his presence is requested on the bridge.”
If she was going to go toe to toe with Veyr, she wanted to know exactly what his ship was capable of and Holt was the best man to tell her that.
“Okay, open a channel to the Brooks,” she ordered. “Tell them Captain Buchanan would like to speak to—“
Alec, who had been leaning against the console behind her reading something cleared his throat. Pointedly. Looking over her shoulder, she arched an eyebrow in question.
“Captain Buchanan, the Lady Netherton, requests the pleasure of speaking with his grace, Captain Veyr, the Duke—“ He paused and scrolled through his padd. “Of Carnton.”
”That’s what I said.”
He shook his head, flashing her a charming smile. “No, it isn’t. Equiette matters here. Get it wrong and you’ll find yourself on the outs. Or worse, suffer the cut direct.”
“It sounds like english, but I didn’t understand a bloody word of that.” She shook her head and looked at the comms officer. “What he said please.”
The officer turned to relay the message and she motioned for Alec to take the seat next to her, on the opposite side to Savage.
“You’re going to need to step on my foot or something if I’m about to cock up, okay?” She murmured as the viewscreen in front of them switched from the ships to a harried looking yeoman.
“My lady, my apologies for the delay in reply.” God, he looked a lot like Barrington. In fact, she could be looking at Barrington, apart from the vicious scar across one side of his face. “His grace is currently unavailable, but may I be of assistance.”
”Is Ca—his grace not aboard the ship at the moment?” Alec broke in. “Netherton,” he added as the yeoman’s gaze cut to him. “Canton and I are old pals.”
The yeoman frowned. “Netherton… my apologies, sir, I do not recall his grace mentioning…” he trailed off pointedly.
”Alex Buchanan, Viscount Netherton,” Alex supplied, his voice clipped. “This is my wife, Captain, the Lady, Buchanan.”
“Netherton, of course!” The yeoman smiled. “My apologies, your lordship, of course I remember his grace talking of you. My lady,” he offered Buck a short bow. “Many apologies. No, his grace is not currently aboard the ship. He’s aboard the Victorious for the ball. I… assume that’s why your lord and ladyship are here?”
Buck smiled. “Of course, of course. I simply wished to get a private chat with his grace beforehand. But we are a little delayed I’m afriad.”
The yeoman made sympathetic noises, his expression carefully neutral.
“I will catch up with his grace. The Victorious you say?”
The scarred man gave her an odd look. “Yes, my lady. The diplomatic platform?”
“The olympic,” Voss said in a low voice. “Has to be.”
“Of course.” Buck smiled again, daring the yeoman to say anything. “Thank you for your help, chief…?”
”Barrington, ma’am.”
Shit. She knew it.
“Thank you, Barrington.”
Nodding to the comms officer she cut the comm. “Do I even want to know what I have to wear for a bloody ball in this reality?”
“Probably not.” Alec grinned and shook his head, then he frowned and consulted his padd. He appeared to have downloaded some guide of social guide for this place to it. “Although, it depends what effect you’re going for. If you are attending the ball as a Captain, for networking as a fleet officer, then uniform. If you’re attending socially, as Lady Buchanan, then a ballgown would be more appropriate.”
She blinked and looked at him, as did half the bridge.
“Well, I’m not wearing a dress,” Savage stated bluntly.
“… as you are both Captains, and Veyr in this reality is a duke, then to attend as a captain would be a snub,” Alec carried on. “Since that would put you on the same rank as the duke. So it would be more diplomatic for you to attend as Lady Buchanan.”
She sighed and rubbed between her brows.
“I knew it was going be to a bloody dress.”
