“Thank you, sir,” he said, finally.
“You are to depart within two days,” the First Space Lord added. He picked a datachip off his desk and passed it to Ted, who took it carefully. “Your crew can send the usual messages, but make sure they know that they will be vetted and censored, if necessary. We don’t want to panic the civilians.”
“Understood,” Ted said. “Will any other ships be joining us?”
“It depends on international affairs,” the First Space Lord said. “Right now, they’re still stunned. They have to get through the recrimination stage before they start thinking what to actually do about the situation.”
Ted nodded. It had been bare hours since the news had reached Earth. By now, world leaders would have been briefed and were struggling to come to terms with the news from New Russia. It wouldn't be long before the news leaked out, not with so many people already aware of it. And then there would be panic…
“Thank you, sir,” he said, again. “We won’t let you down.”
* * *
James mentally replayed everything he’d seen and heard in the briefing as the shuttle carried them back to Ark Royal. If he’d managed to get himself assigned to one of the modern carriers, he told himself, he might well have ensured his own death. The details of the battle suggested, very strongly, that there were no actual survivors. He’d known friends and family who had served in the unified defence fleet. Those people were dead… or alien prisoners, POWs trapped light years from friendly territory. Would the aliens even bother to take prisoners? There was no way to know.
“Call the senior officers for a briefing,” Captain Smith ordered, as soon as the shuttle had landed in the shuttlebay. “And then put the entire ship under a communications barrier. I don’t want anyone sending a message home, not yet.”
James nodded and started to work, grateful for the distraction. He hadn't woken any of the other senior officers when they’d left the ship — the watch crew were the only ones awake — but he could see to that now. Once he’d woken them, he contacted the communications department and ordered them to hold all personal messages. The only ones allowed out of the ship would be priority messages from the senior crew.
“The war situation has taken a turn for the worse,” Captain Smith said, as soon as the senior officers had gathered in the briefing room. “New Russia has fallen to the enemy.”
He ran through everything they’d been told, then showed the images from the battle. The senior officers stared in disbelief; by any reasonable standard, the battle had been hellishly short. Humanity didn't have much experience at space warfare, but simulations suggested that battles should take longer.
“Their starfighters seem to be less capable than ours, excepting the stealth and their weapons,” Schneider observed, finally. “Their stealth systems can’t be perfect or they would use them all the time.”
James couldn't disagree. He’d watched enough bad movies where the enemy weapons fire had seemed to come out of nowhere to know that it was a viable tactic, if the technology could be made to work. But the aliens had deactivated their stealth before engaging the human carriers, even though keeping it would have given them a decisive advantage. No, the systems couldn't be perfect… unless, of course, the aliens thought that going in without stealth was honourable. But who knew how aliens might think?
“We will study all of the records during the trip,” the Captain said. “Our orders are to engage the enemy in this system.”
He ran through their orders and the rationale behind them. “I know that these orders are a gamble,” he added, “but I see no alternative. We will power up our systems this afternoon, then leave tomorrow. Prior to then, I want all section heads to brief their subordinates, then remind them to write wills and record final messages. Please also remind them that the censors will have a look at them first.”
James had to smile. The crew wasn't stupid, they'd know better than to say anything too revealing. But there were plenty of messages they could send that shouldn’t be shared any further, certainly not with a bureaucratic asshole just looking for something he could use to pretend he was doing something useful.
“If there is anything else you need,” he concluded, “I want you to request it by the end of the day. We should have priority shipping for anything we want — as long as we can get it before our departure time. If not… it will just have to wait for us.”
There was a long pause. “Dismissed!”
James lifted an eyebrow as Schneider caught his eye, then nodded and waited for the room to clear before speaking to the CAG. “Yes?”
“Sir, one of my pilots had a… friend on Formidable,” Schneider said. “She probably won’t be the only one to have someone missing, perhaps dead. Do you want me to talk to her?”
James hesitated. As XO, it was his duty to see to it… but Schneider was definitely closer to his pilots. And besides, she almost certainly wasn't the only one to have a friend on the destroyed ships.
“Yes, please,” he said, finally. He’d have to check the records, but they rarely showed anything more than relatives. Someone might hear about their dead friend from the general ship-wide announcement. “And if you feel she needs further counselling, please inform me.”
Schneider nodded and left the briefing room. James watched him go, then reached for his terminal. There would have been to be a general announcement before they powered up the drives for the first time… after praying desperately for success. James knew far too well just how tricky it would be to replace the fusion cores if they failed — it would take months, at the very least.
And by then humanity could very well have lost the war.
* * *
Kurt had to admit that, after a great deal of grumbling, his pilots had managed to sort out the squadron bunking in a suitable manner. Their quarters had been cleaned, new bedding had been installed and there were even a small collection of reading devices, although the latter had barely been touched between endless exercises and napping. Once they’d set up a working simulator, he’d kept his pilots too busy to do anything else.
There were no barriers offering any form of privacy, even when male and female pilots were sharing the same territory. Body modesty was rare among naval crewmen — and besides, pilots were not supposed to show any untoward interest in one another. Kurt had known that relationships happened a long time before he met Rose — and he’d actually had second thoughts about allowing mixed quarters — but he trusted her to behave herself. But now…
He leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder. Like most active-duty naval crewmen, she had long since mastered the art of snapping awake when called, which gave her an advantage over the reservists. They had to relearn the art. Kurt was ruefully aware that if an active-duty pilot had been assigned as CAG, there might well have been a mutiny in short order. Reservists wouldn't take kindly to being treated as active-duty pilots, most of whom were young enough to get by on only a few hours of sleep a day.
“Sir?” Rose asked, looking up at him. “What’s happened?”
“Grab your robe and come with me,” Kurt ordered. He glanced at the other bunks, where the remainder of the squadron were still sleeping. “Quietly.”
He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment as she rolled off her bunk, revealing that she was wearing an undershirt and panties… and not much else. The swell of her breasts was instantly noticeable, while her long legs were perfect, strongly muscled and very pale. Irked, he looked away and paced out of the compartment. She joined him a moment later and followed him down to the room he'd turned into a makeshift office. He felt a moment of sympathy for her, all unaware of just how sharply her life had changed, then started to speak.
“Formidable has been destroyed,” he said, softly. It still seemed unreal to him, even though he’d seen the records. “As far as we know, she went up with all hands.”
Rose stared at him. For a long moment, it was clear, she didn't believe what she was hearing.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wondered, briefly, if he’d made a mistake. “I thought you should know…”
“He can't be dead,” Rose said. “He…”
Kurt understood. She would find it hard to come to terms with the news. Rose wasn't listed as one of her boyfriend’s relatives; she wasn't, technically, entitled to a visit from officers bearing the bad tidings. She wouldn't have heard the truth until the entire navy was told about the disaster. And there wouldn't be any support for her… would there be any support for anyone? It had been a long time since the Royal Navy had lost so many crewmen in a single battle. Even the catastrophic life support failure on HMS Impervious, fifteen years ago, had only killed seventeen crewmen.
But the Battle of New Russia had killed nearly seven thousand officers and men. Two carriers, twenty-two support ships and over seven hundred starfighters. By any pre-war standard, the losses had been disastrous. And they were far from over.
“He shouldn't have died,” Rose said. Her entire body was shaking. “I… he can't be dead.”
Kurt reached out and drew her into a hug, feeling her shake against him as she broke down. She’d genuinely loved her boyfriend; she’d accepted the assignment to Ark Royal, at least in part, because she wasn't willing to give him up. But now… he was gone. Or, at best, an alien POW. Did the aliens take prisoners? Human history showed a wide range of possible treatment of prisoners, everything from reasonably nice camps to outright torture and enslavement. What would the aliens consider acceptable?
He tried to push the thought aside as she sobbed. Would Molly sob, he asked himself, if Ark Royal were to be destroyed? If Kurt himself were to die? Or would she force her feelings aside and carry on, for Penny and Percy if no one else? What sort of help would be extended towards a widowed woman when there would be thousands of others in the same boat?
“I’m sorry,” Rose said. There was a flat tone in her voice he didn't like at all. “I won’t be a problem for you and…”
“No, you won’t,” Kurt said, wishing he knew more about how to talk to someone who’d lost a lover in battle. “You’ll get your chance to exact revenge.”
Rose looked up, her face blotchy and weepy. “Are you sure?”
“We’re going to engage the enemy,” Kurt assured her. He knew it wouldn't be easy — and he wasn't sure if he should be telling her at all, at least until the Captain made a formal announcement — but she needed to know. “I think we’ll be leaving in a day or two.”
“Formidable is gone,” Rose said, bitterly. “What chance do we stand?”
“We will see,” Kurt said. There was no point in telling her, now, about the carrier’s armour - and how it might make a major difference in the next engagement. He held her for a long moment, then gently let her go. “I want you to take the next few hours off…”
“No,” Rose said. She shook her head firmly, then stood upright. If her face hadn't been stained with tears, it would have been convincing. “I can't show weakness.”
“Then I don’t want to see any problems from you,” Kurt said, changing his mind. If she felt it would be better to throw herself into her work, he would let her do it and hope to hell it was the right thing to do. “And we will be starting very early this morning.”
He pushed her gently towards the chair, then smiled. “There's a washroom through there,” he said, indicating the hatch at the rear of the room. “Wash yourself, then stay here for a couple of hours if you need to. I won’t be using the room.”
“Thank you,” Rose said.
She didn't look any better, Kurt decided. Perhaps he should call the doctor and ask her to take a look at Rose. But he knew she’d hate it. Doctors, particularly psychologists, were despised by pilots. And how could the pilots be blamed when psychologists tended to have no understanding of their lives, but banned them from flying whenever they thought there was cause for concern. But now there was cause for concern.
Loyalty warred with prudence. Loyalty won.
“I shall speak to you again before we go flying,” he said, finally. If she still seemed off, he would make her see the doctor, no matter what happened. “Until then, take care of yourself.”
Shaking his head, he walked out of the compartment and down towards the flight deck. There was a spare simulator there, one he could use to review the records from New Russia. He didn't know if he would find anything, just by replaying them time and time again, but there was no harm in looking. Besides, Rose wasn’t the only one who wanted revenge. Kurt wanted to make the aliens pay too.
Chapter Eight
A civilian, Ted knew, would not have been impressed with Ark Royal’s bridge. The modern Royal Navy had wasted time making bridges look photogenic — naval crewmen joked that the consoles had explosive charges underneath so they could be detonated on cue — but that hadn't been a concern for Ark Royal’s designers. The bridge was nothing more than a collection of consoles, organised around a large command chair and a holographic display system. There wasn't even a chair for the XO, who would be based in the CIC. If something happened to the bridge, the CIC could take over.
He sat down and looked from console to console. They were a curious mishmash of systems; thankfully, all of them were British rather than produced outside the British Commonwealth. The engineers had worked them all together, but they had never really been tested in combat; now, Ted knew, they would find out just how well their jury-rigged modifications had actually worked. He sucked in his breath as he activated his console and checked the situation reports flowing up from the various departmental heads. Everyone claimed to be ready for departure.
“Begin power-up sequence,” he ordered.
A low hum ran through the ship as all six fusion cores powered up together. All of them had been tested, one by one, but there had been no need to power them all up while they’d drifted in the reserves. Now… he watched the readings, silently praying that everything would work properly without problems. In theory, they could operate with four fusion cores, but he didn't want to try it in practice. If nothing else, there would be no redundancy if one of the cores failed during battle.
Or was destroyed, he thought, remembering how effectively the alien weapons had sliced the modern carriers apart. What if we’re wrong about how effective our armour will be?
The thought made him scowl. Someone had released the recordings of the battle onto the planetary datanet, provoking panic. There had been riots in a dozen British cities, riots which had sucked away the attention of the military, making it harder for them to prepare for a possible invasion. If Ark Royal couldn't delay the aliens long enough to prepare additional defences, Earth itself might be invaded sooner rather than later. And who knew how the aliens would treat humanity’s homeworld?
He pushed the thought aside as Anderson called him. “All six fusion cores are optimal, Captain,” the Chief Engineer said. “Power curves are steady; I recommend we proceed with full power-up.”
Ted took another breath. “Do it,” he ordered. “Now.”
Ark Royal hadn't needed more than a tenth of the output of one fusion core to keep her essential systems running while she’d been in the reserves. The power requirements were minimal; Ted knew he could have reduced them still further, if he hadn't wanted to keep the starship in something resembling fighting trim. Now… inch by inch, his starship was coming to life around him. Section after section responded to the call and came online; sensors activated, sweeping space for hostile threats, while weapons systems prepared themselves to fire on potential targets.
“We have four sections that need urgent replacement,” Anderson said. Red lights blinked up briefly in the status display, then faded away. “I don’t think our work was up to scratch. I’ve dispatched repair crews now.”
“Good,” Ted said. He wasn't too surprised. Given Ark Royal’s age and the number of different components that had been worked into her hull, he’d expected more than a few minor problems when they powered up for the first time. “Are we ready
for deployment?”
“Main drive system; online, ready to go,” Anderson said. “Puller Drive; online, ready to go.”
There was a long pause as Ted closed his eyes, feeling his ship coming to life around him. In the reserves, she had felt as if she were sleeping. Now… power was thrumming through her hull, her drives, weapons and sensors were online and her starfighters were ready to deploy. The oldest starship still in service, anywhere, was ready and raring to go.
He smiled. “Contact Nelson Base,” he ordered. “Inform them that Ark Royal is ready for deployment.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Annie Davidson said. The communications officer had not been best pleased to be assigned to Ark Royal, once she’d been called from the reserves, but she’d started to change her mind after hearing about the loss of two modern carriers. At least Ark Royal was capable of taking a beating and remaining functional. “Message sent.”
Ted nodded. Hardly anyone, apart from the First Space Lord and his staff, knew about Ark Royal’s mission. To everyone else, she was just another ancient starship, pressed into service to fight a dangerously powerful foe. Just like one of the civilian ships hastily being fitted with popguns, according to one reporter who’d been embedded on Nelson Base. Ted had been offended for his command, but the truth had to remain concealed. The reporter could be made to eat his own words later.
“They’re ordering us to proceed to our destination at once,” Annie said, after several minutes had gone by. “There's a classified data package for you, sir.”
“Forward it to my console,” Ted ordered. He looked over at Lightbridge. The helmsman was looking keenly determined, staring down at his console as if he expected to have to react within a split second. “Have you calculated an appropriate jump point?”
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