[b] Aboard the HMAS Canberra [/b]

Mark Chapman carelessly dropped his tray down onto the surface of the metal table, slipping his legs over the bench and taking a seat. It had been years since he ate in a proper mess hall. The Governor-General let his eyes wander around the eatery. There were three rows of three long tables set up, each table having a bench on each side. The room was filled to capacity by the part of the crew that was currently on lunch break. On each side of Mark sat his family: His mother and two daughters on his left, and his son on the right. His daughters, Mary and Natalia, ages thirteen and fifteen respectfully, were practically twins; They were both the blonde haired blue eyed types. Mary was five foot nine, and Natalia was three feet shorter than her younger sister. The two were chatting away about the latest Australian actor to hit the big screen. Mark loved his daughters dearly, but they resented him; especially Natalia. You see, Mark had never spent too much time with his daughters while they were growing up. He had dedicated his life to serving his country, and thus rarely spent time with his family. Mark’s wife, Laura, was in her forties. She looked like an older version of Natalia. She was currently enthralled in learning the story of Ensign Bart Lenko, who was seated across from her. She loved Mark, even if he had missed a fair number of birthdays and anniversaries while he was off fighting the good fight. Mark kept promising himself he’d make it all up somehow. He’d yet to think of a way to fulfill that promise.

Then there was Mark’s son, Jack. He was like the rest of the family: no, he was very different. For starters, Jack wasn’t native to Australia. Mark and Laura had adopted Jack three years ago. Jack had been born in Ethiopia, but his parents had moved to Australia when Jack was only a few weeks old. They had both died of unknown diseases a month after their arrival. Jack was put into an orphanage, where he stayed until he was five. Now, at the age of eight, Jack sat with the rest of the Chapman’s eating mashed potatoes and gravy, chicken, and green beans. Jack had dark skin and brown eyes, and an unending fountain of love for the rest of his family. In Mary’s case, however, the feeling was not mutual. She held contempt to the little adopted boy for taking her spot as ‘daddy’s favorite.’ Mark loved little Jack like he was his own flesh and blood. Even more so, if you were to ask Mary for her opinion (which nobody ever did, mind you.)

Mark turned and looked at Jack, a smile appearing on Jack’s face as he noticed his father looking at him.”Hey dad?” The boy asked between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.”Yeah, Jack?” Mark returned, curious as to what Jack might want.”Can you take me to see the drivey-thingie they use to fly the boat?” Jack asked, literally bouncing on the bench.”Firstly, son, it’s called the helm; and you sail a boat, you don’t fly. Lastly, this isn’t a boat, it’s a ship.” Mark corrected with a chuckle.”Whatever, dad! Can we see the ‘helm’ then?” Jack asked impatiently.”Of course we can, son. I’ll take you up there right after lunch is over.” At this, Jack gave a little cheer.”Thanks, dad! You’re the bestest-” Laura gave Jack a sidelong glance, and he stopped mid-sentence.”The best.” He corrected himself with a moan. Natalia giggled, and Mary was obviously suppressing a laugh with all of her might. Mark stuffed his face full of chicken as the girls went back to talking.

Across the room, Captain Anthony Martin sat with a group of his fellow Marines. They were eating the same meal as the Chapmans were; except, they weren’t nearly as happy. A group of navy dogs across the room kept giving Martin and his men dirty looks. The worst part, in Anthony’s eyes, was that the Seamen’s commanding officers were encouraging them to be hostile. Antis glared down at his chicken, the anger plain on his face.”Lemme pop one of ‘em in the mouth, cap.” He said with a growl.”Easy now, mate. This is their ship: we can’t go starting fights around here. We’ll get trampled.” Martin said, his voice calm despite his own rising anger. Who’d these sea whores think they were? Martin’s Marines could rip ‘em a new one if they really wanted to. Private Wilson glanced back behind himself, and was greeted with a middle finger by one of the Navy’s men.

”That’s it, to hell with this!” Wilson shouted, standing up and stomping towards the assortment of Navy dogs. Wilson was a lean, African fellow with a barely regulation afro growing on top of his head. Thompson and Harris jumped up right after Wilson and stood to each side of him. Only Antis and Martin remained seated as the Navy boys stood up as well.”What do you want, mudslogger?” One of the Navy boy’s, an Ensign, sneered.”I want your teeth, bro!” Wilson yelled before popping the Ensign in the mouth. A pair of yellowing teeth flew out of the Ensign’s mouth, and Wilson’s desire was fulfilled. The other Seamen at the table gasped: apparently, they weren’t used to retaliation.”Get that ni-” One of the Seamen started to yell, before he found himself being tackled to the ground by Thompson.”Oi, nobody talks to Wilson like that!” He said, before mounting the Seaman and beating his face to a pulp. The Seamen reacted, two of them jumping at Wilson, one at Harris, and another went to help their friend being pinned by Thompson. Harris, being a broad shouldered and stone-chested soldier, was able to beat the Seaman who foolishly tried to grapple with him rather easily. Thompson was rolling around on the ground with one of the men, and seemed to be holding his own well enough. Wilson was the only one in a bad way, as one of the Seaman held Wilson in place, while the disfigured Ensign beat the defenseless Marine’s stomach with repeated blows.

“Enough, before I have you all court marshalled!” A loud and commanding voice called. The brawl ceased as everyone who was watching the fight turned to look at the Governor-General, who was striding over towards the military men mid-squabble. He was quite obviously angry at the lot of them.”You call yourselves soldiers? Mates, I’ve seen more restrain from convicts!” Mark barked, and the military men quickly lined up. Shame was present on the Navy men’s faces, although the Marines looked offended.”Permission to speak freely,sir?” Captain Lee spoke, standing alongside Antis.”Let me guess: you’re going to tell me these Seamen were ruffling your boys’ feathers, and they retaliated with violence. Am I correct, Captain?” Chapman asked, turning to look at the Captain.”Yes, sir.” Martin replied, his face empty of emotion.”Now, it’s been awhile since I was in the Marines, so I don’t remember exactly what the punishment for fighting is. But rest assured, the captain will hear about this. I’m honestly ashamed of this disgraceful behavior. For God’s sakes, there are children in the room!” Mark barked. At this, the Marines lowered their heads, joining the Navy men in their shame.”Go back to eating, but if I see anything like this again, I really [i] will [/i] have you all court marshalled. Dismissed!”

Mark returned to his seat and sighed. He brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes. Laura put a hand on her husband’s back, and rubbed it soothingly.”Nice job, hun. You haven’t lost your touch.” She whispered quietly. Enisgn Lenko coughed.”I apologize for their actions, sir.” He said.”We aren’t all that bad, honest.” Laura gave the man a reassuring smile.”Of course not, Mark would never assume something like that.”Yeah, right.” Chapman muttered sarcastically into his hands. Luckily, Lenko didn’t hear. Unluckily, Laura did. Mark was met with an elbow to the ribcage.”Ow!” Mark looked up at his wife, scowling. Laura returned the scowl, and the children watched in anticipation. The little spat was disrupted when a man wearing blue combat fatigues jogged up behind Mark.”Sir, the captain would like to inform you that we are nearing London. We should be in British-controlled waters tomorrow, sir.” Mark gave the man a curt nod.”Thank you, Lieutenant. Inform the captain that I will be coming to the helm later to...discuss, something.” The Lieutenant nodded and jogged off.

Finally, they were almost there. The restoration of the British Empire was a handful of knots away.