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of the Chartsey Fleet Academy Commandant.
    The commandant stared at her. ‘You want to do what? ’ she asked, with a shaken note.
    Tina gazed back calmly.
    ‘I wish to file an appeal against my shipboard placement, ma’am,’ she repeated.
    There was a moment in which the Academy Commandant was entirely lost for words. Then she recovered the power of speech.
    ‘But you’ve got the Falcon !’ she pointed out, in the tones of one offering the holy grail. Which, indeed, it was. Every year all of the Academies across the Fleet sent their highest rated second year cadet to complete their final year of training in the elite Class of Sixty Four on Chartsey. The highest ranking cadet at the end of the year got a whole bundle of prizes; they were named Top Cadet, gave the valedictorian speech at graduation, were given a signet ring as an honour to wear with dress uniform, and got an automatic place on the Fleet’s fast-track Tagged and Flagged promotion scheme.
    They also, as a matter of ancient tradition, got the most prestigious final year shipboard placement available. Which, for the past few years, had been aboard the destroyer Falcon. It was the most modern class of destroyer in service, on exodiplomacy assignment bringing Solaran visitors between Chartsey and the secret X-base where they left their ships to enter League space. Every cadet dreamed of that opportunity.
    ‘Yes ma’am.’ Cadet Officer Lucas managed to keep the patient note out of her voice, keeping her tone one of formal respect. ‘But I believe I am entitled to a placement on the Heron, ma’am.’
    The commandant lost the use of words again and just waved her hands in a desperate gesticulation. Tina waited quietly.
    ‘But…’ the commandant spluttered, after several seconds, ‘But… you can’t be serious! The Heron!’ The word came out almost as a wail. Hearing her own voice making such a sound, in conversation with a cadet, seemed to pull the commandant up. She drew a breath, composing herself, and managed to speak with more authority. ‘Look, you’re talking about the Fourth.’
    ‘Yes ma’am,’ Tina agreed.
    The commandant waved her hands again, finding that there was so much she wanted to say, she just didn’t know where to start.
    ‘But the Fourth ,’ she managed, then took a breath. ‘Look,’ she said again, with an air of gathering her resolve, ‘you can’t possibly be serious about this; you can’t possibly know what you’re asking. The Fourth is a rehabilitation unit for failing personnel, Ms Lucas. You don’t ask to go there unless you have serious, serious problems!’
    Three years in the Fleet had taught Tina not to contradict superiors, so she just sat quietly.
    ‘Oh, I know, I know,’ the commandant said earnestly, ‘there’s that so-called High Flyer scheme, but that is nothing more than a scheme for malcontents and misfits. Nobody asks to join the Fourth if they are happy and successful in regular Fleet service. Even to apply to them is stating on record that you’re not happy in regular Fleet service, and what is that but declaring that you’re a malcontent, rejecting everything that is normal, traditional, respectable! Look…’ she clasped her hands together tightly on the desk before her as if trying to bring them, and her emotions, under control, ‘you can’t have thought about what you’re saying, Ms Lucas. You’re our Top Cadet, the highest achieving graduate out of all the Academies across the League. Why in heaven would you want to throw in your lot with …’ her hands flew apart and fluttered in the air as she struggled for a word, ‘ them ?’
    Tina didn’t smile. Her stolid, rather heavy features remained fixed in an expression of calm courtesy.
    ‘I am entitled, by custom, to the best placement available, ma’am,’ she pointed out. ‘The Heron currently holds fourteen records in drills and performance evaluations, making it the highest achieving warship in service. The High Flyer