The Longest Day (Ark Royal X)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Come here,” he said. He tapped his groin. “You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  ***

  Molly felt an odd calm descend on her as she faced him, one final time. She knew, all too well, that there was no way out. Dave was blocking the only way to escape - the only safe way. Even if she started to push through the thorns, he’d be on her before she managed to get very far. And she knew better than to expect mercy. Dave was sick in the head. It was a surprise he’d even bothered to honour his original agreement.

  The others probably forced him to keep his word, she thought. But that wouldn't have lasted long.

  She took a step forward, silently bidding farewell to everyone. To Kurt, to Percy and Penny, to all the friends she’d known ... she’d been a damned fool. She hadn't anticipated the alien attack, of course, but she’d been riding for a fall anyway. Perhaps Garrison would have turned nasty, even if Earth hadn't been attacked. Perhaps ...

  The world had changed. And she didn't want to live in it.

  “Come here,” Dave repeated. He tapped his groin, again. “I won’t ask a third time.”

  Molly gritted her teeth, then forced herself forward one final time. Dave’s eyes widened, a second before she slammed into him, forcing him back and over the cliff. He let out a scream as he plummeted, Molly tumbling over the edge and following him down ...

  Fran will have a chance, she thought. The calmness didn't fade, even though she knew she’d killed herself, killed them both. And I ...

  ... And they both fell onto the rocks below.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Luna City, Luna

  It's only been two weeks since the battle, Brian Wheeler thought, sourly. You’d think they’d have something more important to talk about.

  He’d never really felt sorry for someone sitting in an interrogation cell, not until now. He’d been a cop long enough to be fairly sure that anyone unfortunate enough to be bandying words with a police interrogator had probably done something to deserve it. It was amazing just how many good-hearted citizens who just happened to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time were hauled into the station for questioning. The fact that most of them had been arrested in suspicious circumstances, to say the least, never seemed to matter.

  But now ...

  He forced himself to keep his voice under tight control as the third set of lawyers fired an endless series of questions at him. Sin City’s Management wanted to claim on the insurance and get the colony repaired as quickly as possible, even though Sin City was very low on the Luna Federation’s agenda. The insurers, on the other hand, were looking desperately for an excuse to deny the Management’s claim. They were already paying out more money than anyone cared to think about and Brian suspected, reading between the lines, that they were running out of cash. Their policies hadn't excluded alien attack.

  “Do you believe,” a lawyer asked, “that Sin City was well-prepared for the attack?”

  Brian ground his teeth. He’d been over that point time and time again. They could read the transcript, if they cared enough to download it. He couldn't help feeling that the lawyers were merely stalling for time. The Luna Federation had been considering a temporary moratorium on paying insurance claims - another reason for Sin City’s Management to want to move quickly - and if the insurers stalled long enough, the problem might just go away.

  “No,” he said, trying hard not to show his irritation. Or the headache that was pounding away inside his skull. “The colony was hit once, with a KEW strike. Emergency procedures should have kept the lower levels relatively safe. Instead, the entire complex vented, save for a handful of emergency shelters. Furthermore, a number of staffers deserted their posts instead of attempting rescue operations.”

  Another lawyer eyed him. “And do you believe that Sin City is responsible for protecting its guests?”

  Brian met her eyes. “I was given to understand that all colonies within the Luna Federation are required to uphold a certain minimal standard of safety,” he said. “Sin City clearly neglected its safety precautions.”

  “Sin City had no reason to predict an alien attack,” a third lawyer added. “They may have taken all legal precautions, but found them insufficient.”

  There was a pause. Brian said nothing. They might expect him to speculate, but he knew better than to give them unnecessary ammunition. His speculations might be turned against him, if there was a legal dispute over just how much obligation Sin City’s Management had actually had.

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “Do you believe that Sin City took a reasonable set of precautions?”

  Brian sighed. It was now harder to avoid answering.

  “No,” he said. He was tempted to force the lawyer to ask for more details, but it would be pointless. “Sin City took one hit. It should have been able to isolate the lower levels long enough for recovery missions to begin. Instead, the entire complex vented. That suggests either a very low level of readiness or outright sabotage.”

  He took a breath. “And while I understand that you have to keep asking these questions,” he added, “I think you should know that they have already been answered.”

  The lawyers exchanged glances. “Thank you,” one of them said, finally. “We may recall you if we have more questions.”

  Brian decided that was a dismissal and rose. He’d never liked lawyers, although the idealist in him knew they were necessary. Too many of the lawyers he’d met in the police force had been nothing more than hired guns, defending the guilty and persecuting the innocent as their paychecks dictated. And the lawyers he’d met on the moon had been no different. One set wanted to deny the claim, the other wanted to get it approved ... and both of them were seeking evidence to bolster their side. Right or wrong didn't come into play.

  He strode through the door, feeling his headache fading away as he saw Abigail waiting for him. She’d been interviewed too, but her lawyer - her family’s lawyer - had managed to ensure that she didn't have to answer too many questions. He was apparently also working to get her testimony stricken completely from the record, although Brian doubted he would succeed. Too many people had an interest in using it against Sin City’s Management.

  They allowed an underage girl to live and work in Sin City, he thought, wryly. And that will raise questions they won’t want to answer.

  “Brian,” Abigail said. She rose, smoothing down her skirt. “Can we go home now?”

  “Of course,” Brian said. Escorting Abigail everywhere hadn't been that challenging, although - with travel still heavily restricted - she hadn't been able to go very far. It would be harder, Brian was sure, once the travel restrictions were removed. “The shuttle is waiting on the pad.”

  “My father says he’ll arrange for me to take up an internship when I turn sixteen,” Abigail said, as they walked down to the shuttlepad. “Is that a good idea?”

  “It would give you some useful experience,” Brian said. It wouldn't be easy. “What sort of internship?”

  “He said I could choose,” Abigail said. “Where should I go?”

  Brian considered it. “Somewhere that will teach you what is really important,” he said, after a moment. “Not an office, not somewhere where your face is known ...”

  “I could join a mining crew,” Abigail said. “Or ship out to the asteroids.”

  “That might not be a bad idea,” Brian said. “But you’d need to get a spacer’s cert before you could join an asteroid miner’s crew.”

  Abigail gave him a sharp look. “Is that a good idea?”

  “It would certainly teach you what you need to know,” Brian said. He opened the hatch, then motioned for her to precede him into the shuttle. “And you’d be in a much better position to understand what is actually important.”

  He smiled at her as he closed the hatch. “You’re in a position to take a shot at just about anything,” he added. A merchant crew might be willing to take on an untried spacer, if she had the proper certification. “And you
have plenty of time ahead of you.”

  “Thanks,” Abigail said. “Do you think anyone will want me?”

  Brian walked to the cockpit and took the controls. “I think you will have to work for it, if you want it,” he said. “But it’s worthwhile.”

  He lifted the shuttle into the air and set course for Clarke Colony. The Luna skies were full of shuttles, worker bees and other recovery vehicles, trying to patch together some of the damaged domes before the aliens returned. Brian had heard - from Abigail’s father - that the Luna Federation was working desperately to rebuild the mass drivers, with help - for once - from the Great Powers. There was no choice. Earth and Home Fleet had taken one hell of a beating. Luna would be on her own if the aliens returned.

  And they will, he thought, sourly. And when they do, we will be ready for them.

  ***

  “Uncle Sasha,” Svetlana said, as she stepped into his office. “I’m surprised you came all the way to the moon.”

  “Our offices here will allow for a private chat,” Sasha Zadornov said. He stroked his white beard as she took a seat. “We are very pleased with you, of course.”

  “Thank you,” Svetlana said. She met his eyes. “And the motherland?”

  “A mess,” Uncle Sasha said. “The Tadpoles devastated much of our territory, as you should be aware. If the other Great Powers hadn't been devastated themselves, we would be far more concerned. As it is ... we may have problems continuing the war.”

  Svetlana kept her face impassive. Uncle Sasha might be her father’s elder brother - and her favourite uncle, the one who’d always been kind to her - but she knew better than to underestimate him. Or to doubt him. If he said there would be problems, there would be problems. She’d heard next to nothing through the official channels, but she’d heard enough rumours to know that mess was an understatement.

  “I see,” she said. “I trust that my service has been of use?”

  Sasha nodded, curtly. Svetlana hid her relief as best as she could, even though she suspected the old goat could see it. She existed for the motherland and the family - she’d had that drummed into her head since she’d been a little girl - and she had to be of use. Giving her a starship had been a gamble, one that had paid off in spades. Now, she had to find a way to capitalise on it before her superiors forgot what she’d done for them.

  “I believe a better command will be in your future,” Uncle Sasha said. “You have been awarded a number of medals from the Great Powers. It would be ... impolitic ... to deny you a new command. Unless you want to take a desk job ...”

  “No, thank you,” Svetlana said, quickly. A desk job would destroy her. Worse, it would make her out to be nothing more than a common secretary. It wouldn’t be long before her superiors decided she was nothing more than just another woman, rather than a person of consequence. “I want a carrier.”

  Uncle Sasha lifted his eyebrows. She didn't blame him for being surprised - or at least pretending to be surprised. Carriers were still the most prestigious commands in the navy, but they were also the largest targets. He had to be concerned about the prospect of putting her on a ship that would draw enemy starfighters like shit drew flies.

  He didn't say that to her. Instead, he merely smiled. “Do you believe you deserve a carrier?”

  “Yes,” Svetlana said, flatly.

  “Maybe you do,” Uncle Sasha said. “And do you believe the family should spend the political capital to get you a carrier command?”

  “Yes,” Svetlana told him.

  “Ah,” Uncle Sasha said. His eyes lit up, challengingly. “And why, precisely, should we do that?”

  Svetlana took a moment to compose her thoughts. Uncle Sasha had never treated her as anything less than one of the boys. He’d forced her to think - to defend herself - in the same way he’d challenged his sons and nephews. And she knew, all too well, that he wouldn’t be swayed by anything less than a solid argument. Feminine wiles and tears would mean nothing to him. They’d just confirm prejudices that ran through the motherland, even though the rest of the world had long-since discarded them.

  “Right now, I am the most successful commanding officer in the Navy,” Svetlana said. She made a mental note to look up the medals she’d been given. There weren't many officers, apart from Theodore Smith, who’d won such an international collection of medals. “And we have had very few successes over the past year. You have to make the most of it.”

  “We could also have you paraded through the cities,” Uncle Sasha pointed out, mildly. “It wouldn't do your reputation any good if you were killed on your next deployment.”

  “Then you’d have to explain why you weren't giving me another chance to save the motherland,” Svetlana said. She had faith in the Kremlin’s ability to bolster her reputation at the cost of everyone else who’d fought in the recent battle. It wouldn't fly outside Russia, but hardly anyone in the Kremlin cared about that. “Giving me a carrier, on the other hand, would bolster morale at home. And you need that, particularly now.”

  She leaned forward. “And my success will boost the family,” she added. “If you don’t capitalise on it, people will start wondering why.”

  Uncle Sasha nodded, slowly. “A compelling argument.”

  Svetlana smiled. It was more than just a compelling argument. She'd always been aware - all too aware - that she was an embarrassment to her family as well as an asset, but the embarrassment was gone now. Or it should be gone. There were people in her family with social attitudes so outdated that they would probably have done well for themselves in the courts of Peter the Great or Ivan the Terrible. Their reaction to her saving the family - and the motherland - would probably include snide remarks about how a man could have done it better.

  “Yes,” she said. She cocked her head. “No one will question it, now.”

  “True,” Uncle Sasha agreed. “And the risk of being the lone woman on a starship, Svetlana Zadornova?”

  “I have coped with that already,” Svetlana said. Dropping the feminine convention for her surname had been a minor issue, after everything else she’d done. There were traditionalists who'd pitched a fit, but mostly after they’d met her. They never seemed to have the sense to check her first name before boarding her ship. “And a carrier command is worth any price.”

  “Don’t say that to Ivan,” Uncle Sasha said. He smiled, rather coldly. “I’ll discuss the issue with my supporters, then take it to the politburo. And you will be expected to help keep up morale, I’m afraid. The kissing of babies is in your future.”

  Svetlana nodded, trying to hide her delight. Uncle Sasha was a powerful man - and she was famous. She was sure he was already exploiting his niece to bolster his - and the family’s - position. If he wanted her to have a carrier command, she’d have a carrier command. And he could make life easier for her in a multitude of other ways too.

  “I think I can cope,” she said. She’d have to make sure her XO and other loyal officers were rewarded. No one reached flag rank without a patronage network of their own. A carrier XO would have more prestige than a frigate commander. “And so can you.”

  “We shall see,” Uncle Sasha said. “We shall see.”

  He reached for a bottle of vodka and poured them both a generous measure. “And now that’s over,” he said, “I want to hear the whole story from your mouth.”

  ***

  “They blew up Sin City,” Williams said. “Those bastards! They blew it all to hell!”

  Ginny rolled her eyes. Two weeks in orbit - endless debriefings, followed by endless training simulations - had worn them both down. She hadn't argued when Williams had proposed booking rooms in Sin City, even though it was a risk. Going together might have been far too noticeable for their superiors to ignore. And then ...

  “It’s shut down completely,” Williams said. “Where will we go now?”

  “There is more than one colony on the moon,” Ginny pointed out. There had been over a thousand major colonies, before the war. Most
of them were relatively intact. “I'm sure there's somewhere else to go.”

  Williams looked despondent. “They won’t be as nice as Sin City.” He made a show of tossing the datapad against the nearest bulkhead. “Those bastards did it on purpose!”

  “I think those bastards don’t give a damn about human sexual activity,” Ginny said. She didn't have access to most of the reports from the xenospecialists, but some details had leaked into the datanet. The Tadpoles reproduced like frogs, not humans. “They certainly shouldn't have wasted a single missile on Sin City when there were actual targets of military value to destroy.”

  “That’s my point,” Williams said. “My morale has shrunk to the size of ...”

  “Your cock?” Ginny asked. She smiled at him before he could take offense. “There are other places to go, once the travel ban is lifted.”

  She sighed. Home Fleet had been in orbit for two weeks, but hardly anyone had been permitted to go down to Earth. She’d seen too many officers and crew walking the decks with haunted expressions, as they came to terms with the fact they’d never see some of their friends and families again. Millions of Americans - millions of humans - had died in the bombardment. Countless others would never be seen again, their fates unknown.