Ark Royal 3: The Trafalgar Gambit

by Christopher Nuttall

  “But it won't,” James said. Even if the war ended tomorrow, even if humanity came to a peace agreement with the aliens, it would be decades before life returned to anything like normal. Humanity would have to rebuild from the war, then come to terms with the fact that they were no longer alone in the universe – and that some of their new friends wanted to pick a fight rather than talk. “Surely they know better than that.”

  “Most people are idiots,” Uncle Winchester said. He paused. “James, there was a reason I asked you here, today.”

  James lifted his eyebrows. He’d suspected as much. Strings had been pulled to arrange for him to visit Winchester Hall, strings that had been in motion long before he’d approached his Uncle to ask for a favour. Those strings wouldn't have been pulled if they hadn't wanted something from him that went above and beyond the call of duty.

  He settled back, cursing inwardly. There were days when he understood precisely why Prince Henry had sought to join the Royal Navy under an assumed name.

  “Formidable – and the entire colony mission - will need a commander,” Uncle Winchester said. “I’d like you to take command.”

  “I should have expected that,” James said, slowly. “You do realise my carrier expertise is limited to Ark Royal? Formidable is a very different kettle of fish.”

  “You won’t be expected to take the ship into battle,” Uncle Winchester assured him. “All we want you to do is find a new world and set up a colony there.”

  “Except you have no more idea than I do of what might be lurking at the far end of the tramlines,” James pointed out. “We might discover a second alien race, far more hostile than the first. Or we might discover the aliens themselves, trying to block our escape. You need a commander who knows more about modern carriers.”

  “We need one who understands the urgency of the situation,” Uncle Winchester grated. “I would hesitate to nominate someone else ...”

  “But you should,” James said. “I had to learn the limits of my capabilities the hard way.”

  “So you did,” Uncle Winchester said. “And there were other reasons to put you on Ark Royal. But those reasons are gone now, if you are to be believed, and it is time for you to move onwards.”

  James took a breath. “Uncle,” he said. “I won’t desert Ark Royal or Admiral Smith, not now.”

  His Uncle studied him coldly. “It is your duty to go where you are sent,” he said, after a tense moment. “I will not accept you trying to escape your duty for sentimental reasons.”

  “I’m the commander of Ark Royal,” James said. “She’s due to depart in twelve days – and isn't that going to be a right headache? There is no time to prepare another officer, even Commander Williams, to take my place.”

  He stood and walked to the windows. Outside, rain pelted the glass sheets and ran down towards the flowerbeds below, but he could still see the refugee camp outside the walls. A few hundred people resided there – even he hadn't been able to pull an exact number from the datanet – after losing their homes and everything they owned to the tidal waves. Three weeks ago, they had been civilians, the people he was pledged to defend. Now, they were nothing but helpless refugees. How many of them, he wondered, had donated money to charities intent on helping people from Africa or the Middle East? Had they ever thought they would end up like the victims of endless civil wars and religious conflicts?

  “And I owe it to the people down there not to run,” he added. “There are no guarantees of survival, Uncle, but I am damned if I will run.”

  “The issue here is not bravery or cowardice,” Uncle Winchester said. He tapped the table to underline his words. “The issue here is the survival of the human race itself.”

  “Or the British part of it,” James pointed out. No one would repeat the mistakes of Terra Nova in a hurry. He smiled at the thought, then sobered. “Do other countries have their own plans?”

  “We assume so,” Uncle Winchester said. “The Americans had a colonist fleet that was due to depart just before Vera Cruz. It was placed on hold and nothing has been seen or said about it since. There are some indications that France and Brazil are planning their own departures, but we don’t know for sure. They may just be considering moving additional settlers to their colonies in the wake of the Battle of Earth.”

  James nodded. Moving to Britannia – on the other side of Earth from the aliens – would seem very attractive right now. They’d been lucky, he knew; the aliens had deliberately avoided firing on the orbital towers, even though they were easy targets. If the towers had fallen, the death toll would have been far higher. It suggested the aliens were far more than just mindless killers. Perhaps there was a way to coexist with them after all.

  But if Earth fell, Britannia wouldn't last much longer.

  He took a breath. “Uncle,” he said, as he turned to face the older man, “I respectfully refuse to take command of Formidable.”

  Uncle Winchester slowly rose to his feet. “Are you refusing the promotion?”

  “My duty is with Ark Royal,” James said. He fought hard to control his growing anger. “I have no intention of fleeing Earth ...”

  “You have a duty to ensure the human race survives,” Uncle Winchester snapped. “You will be in command of a carrier, with a full complement of fighter pilots and starfighters, protecting two colonist-carriers and a genetic databank. The human race will live on where you choose to settle. It’s your damn duty to take command of the fleet.”

  “There are others who are better equipped to take command,” James said. Understanding clicked in his mind. “And most of them have ties to the aristocracy. Offer to take their families along and they will probably be happy to take command of the fleet. You will get to maintain your social structure indefinitely, provided you don’t forget the lessons of the Troubles. And the very best of British luck.”

  He turned and started to make his way towards the door. “I won’t mention this to anyone, Uncle, but I won’t be involved. I can't.”

  “Very well,” Uncle Winchester said. “Go back to Ark Royal. Resume command. Prepare for your deployment ... which may very well be your last. And do everything in your power to establish a peaceful outcome to the war.”

  “Yes, sir,” James said.

  “You’ll need these files,” Uncle Winchester added. He picked a datachip off the desk and tossed it to James. “I was going to ask you to pass them to Admiral Smith, but seeing you’re still in command ...”

  “Thank you,” James said. “Do you know who will be appointed the Ambassador?”

  “That’s still being haggled over by the Foreign Office,” Uncle Winchester said. He snorted in a remarkably child-like manner. “Some of the mandarins want an experience diplomat, preferably someone who cut his teeth making deals with the Americans or the other spacefaring powers. Others want someone more used to handling African or Middle Eastern powers ...”

  “That would be disastrous,” James said, quietly. “They’re too used to negotiating from a position of strength.”

  He sighed. After the economic storms of the mid-21st Century, large parts of Africa and the Middle East had become backwaters. The old nation-states were long gone, replaced by states built on religious, racial or ethnic lines. None of them were any match for a spacefaring power; if they caused trouble, the standard response was to send in Special Forces or call down strikes from orbit. No one, these days, wasted time trying to rebuild entire nations. If their people wanted better nations or rulers, the thinking ran, they could do it for themselves.

  It was heartless, some said. But all previous nation-building attempts had failed.

  “Deals are being struck,” Uncle Winchester said. “I believe there will be an answer soon enough, James. Until then ...”

  He shrugged expressively. “Get your ship ready for combat, Captain,” he added. “I have a feeling that these negotiations will be far from easy.”

  Chapter Eight

  As always, it was hard to tell how long it had
been from the moment the aliens had left him alone with Jill to when they returned to his compartment. Henry knew he’d fallen asleep twice – being a starfighter pilot had taught him to sleep just about anywhere – but he honestly wasn't sure how long he’d slept. But it had given him time to think and bounce ideas off Jill, once he’d told her what the researchers had established about the aliens. She’d picked up a great deal herself, merely from watching them closely.

  “I don’t think they want us to mate,” she said. “I’ve never seen them show anything resembling sexual interest in anyone.”

  “The researchers say they mate like fish,” Henry agreed. “The women eject eggs into the water; the men eject sperm and the two match up away from their parents, like tadpoles.”

  Jill considered it as she lay back on the bed. “I wonder what that does to their society,” she mused. “Ira and I spent all the time we had together kissing and stuff. They won’t do anything of the sort.”

  Henry couldn't disagree. His sex life had always been more circumscribed than anyone born outside the Royal Family, but that hadn’t stopped him spending most of his waking hours plotting how to have sex. But so much of humanity’s culture, morality and society was built around sex, one way or the other. How would an alien race that didn't have the same built-in urges as the human race grow and develop?

  “They won’t have any concept of bastardry,” he said, finally. “The children might be brought up by dedicated teachers, rather than their natural parents. Hell, they may not even have husbands and wives, as we understand the term.”

  He scowled, remembering his history. One of the most promising royal marriages had shattered after one of the participants revealed that he’d sired a bastard child. Another prince had been tormented by suggestions his father wasn't his father, although Henry had sometimes wished his father hadn't been his father. He could have left the Royal Family with a clear conscience and gone elsewhere.

  Jill sighed, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed. “How strange,” she said. “And yet ... why should we expect them to be like humans?”

  Henry looked away from her. It was unlikely the aliens had realised just how many problems they were causing him by putting a naked and beautiful girl into his cell. There was little difference between alien males and females, as far as anyone could tell; they certainly didn't mate like humans. But part of his body kept reminding him just how long it had been since he’d lain with Janelle. And he had a sneaking suspicion she felt the same way.

  He shook his head, firmly, then strode over to the entrance and peered down into the murky water. It smelt funny, as always, but he’d grown used to it by now. There was nothing underneath the cell, as far as he could tell, apart from a source of light. The eerie green glow pervaded the water, marking the cell’s location. And yet, he had no idea why it was there. It wasn't as if the aliens needed light to see underwater.

  “We shouldn't,” he said. There were hundreds of human cultures and societies, even though all humans shared the same biology. It was unlikely the aliens would have a culture humans would understand completely. They were probably equally perplexed over some of the materials they’d pulled from their conquests. “They’re nothing like humans.”

  Something moved, deep below the waters. Henry stepped back, just in time to avoid an alien coming up and out of the water like a performing seal. It should have been an absurd scene, a literal fish out of water, and yet the alien moved with an eerie grace that belied its odd appearance above the water. They would make poor soldiers, Henry considered, particularly away from the sea. But they wouldn't have to fight on the land to win the war.

  The alien shivered, spraying water droplets everywhere, then turned to face him. Great yellow eyes met his, almost glowing in the dim light. Henry resisted the urge to take a step backwards as the alien squelched its way around the entrance and up towards the bed. Jill sat upright, her eyes flaring with alarm, just before the alien stopped and lowered itself to the floor. Henry hesitated, then walked back to the bed and sat next to Jill. She looked calm, calmer than he would have expected. But then, she’d been an alien captive for years.

  “We must talk,” the alien said. As always, it used an electronic speaker. “We must understand you.”

  It sounded more comprehensible, Henry noted. He’d always assumed the aliens had been studying human technology, including the teaching machines that could be found on almost any asteroid colony or small colonial homestead. Given time, they could have used the teachers to learn English and a great deal else about humanity, even though the machines contained nothing of tactical value. But the machines had also been designed for humans. It seemed equally possible that the aliens might have been unable to use them properly.

  “We must talk too,” Henry said. He took a long breath. “This war started by accident.”

  The alien seemed to recoil, slightly. It took Henry a moment to realise that it was connected – somehow – to its fellow aliens. Telepathy? There had been no sign the aliens were able to read minds. Or perhaps he was just over-thinking the issue and the alien was using communications implants. It made sense, Henry knew. The aliens might know the humans were trapped, unable to leave without drowning, but they’d want to supervise anyone who went into the cell. Henry might try to take the alien hostage.

  “The War Faction states otherwise,” the alien informed him. “State your case.”

  Jill crossed her arms under her breasts. Henry wanted to tell her to remain still. It was unlikely the aliens could read human body language, although they had definitely had a chance to download medical or psych textbooks from the colonies they’d overrun, but there was no point in taking chances. One of the most common human tactics in sensitive negotiations was to have one of the ambassadors an expert in reading people. A good one could tell a practiced liar from a honest man.

  “We settled the same world as your people,” Jill said, carefully. “It never crossed our minds that someone else might be living under the waters.”

  That was true, Henry knew. The Survey Protocols the various interstellar powers had formulated had never been intended to look for a race that lived underwater. No one had seriously believed that intelligent life could develop underwater, let alone develop technology and everything else that a spacefaring race would need. Survey ships looked for radio signals, glowing lights at night time and all the other signs that matched humanity’s own pattern. They’d never thought to look under the waves.

  And that raises another question, Henry told himself, sourly. What if there are other colonies shared with the aliens – and we don’t know about them?

  It seemed unlikely, he knew. Very few human colonies had one ship dropping off the colonists and no further contact with the rest of humanity. Most colonies were founded by nation-states, after all. But the aliens ... who knew how they thought? Once they had ensured enough food in the oceans, they could settle a world and develop a colony without further contact from the homeworld. Maybe they believed in allowing a colony world to build up its population before they started to turn it into an industrial powerhouse.

  “We believe that all races start in the waters,” the alien said. It definitely seemed to have mastered English. “Did yours not?”

  “No,” Henry said. Technically speaking, humanity’s very distant ancestors had crawled out of the waters, but he had a feeling it would only confuse the aliens if he brought that up. “We started on the land.”

  “But you killed one of our people,” the alien said. It was impossible to tell if it was speaking of Jill personally or humanity in general. “That is not the sign of a peaceful race.”

  Henry shuddered. The alien had died ... and its compatriots had mounted an immediate counterattack against what they’d assumed to be a hostile raiding party. A tragic mistake had rapidly turned into a nightmare, with tempers running high on both sides. And yet ...

  “You didn't attack us at once,” he said. It was impossible to be sure, but he suspe
cted that Jill had been a prisoner for over a year. But no one was quite sure when Heinlein had been destroyed. “Why not?”

  There was a long pause, as if the alien was mentally debating what it should say. “War Faction stated that war was inevitable,” the alien said, slowly. “Peace Faction outvoted.”

  Henry’s eyes narrowed. There had been no shortage of human political factions that had turned a minor incident into a major crisis just to secure their own power, but he had the odd feeling he was missing something. The aliens couldn't be that close to humanity, could they?

  Jill uncrossed her arms. “Which faction are you?”

  “Peace Faction,” the alien said. “Further attacks did not come. Suggested shortage of hostile intent. War Faction unimpressed. Found your worlds. Attacked them.”

  Henry considered it, slowly. “The War Faction believed we were hostile,” he said. “And so they planned a war against us?”