Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch

by Christopher Nuttal

  Carefully, he closed the computer and headed out the door, locking the room behind him. Outside, he could hear the sound of Penny chatting on the phone to her friends, while Gayle – downstairs – was lecturing Percy on the value of thinking before doing something as stupid as walking into a clean house with muddy clothes. Kurt had to smile at her threat to turn the hose on him next time, washing him down thoroughly before he stepped foot into the house and scattered mud everywhere. Kurt’s father had made the same threat, years ago. He hadn't actually done it.

  It was nearly four hours before Molly finally arrived home. By then, Kurt had managed to have a man-to-man chat with Percy, a more peaceful discussion with Penny and speak to Gayle about how his children had been behaving. Penny had, apparently, fought quite a bit with the nanny at first, then settled down and started to learn. Percy had been buying books and videos on starfighter training and studying them frantically. Kurt could only hope that he picked up enough to realise that he knew nothing when – if – he entered the Academy.

  “I want you to take them both out tonight,” he’d said to Gayle, when they’d finished talking. “Take them bowling, then go watch a movie or something that will keep them out for a long time.”

  Gayle didn't argue. In a way, that was a more worrying sign than anything else.

  “Molly,” he said, when his wife closed the door behind her. “We need to talk.”

  Molly scowled at him. She had always had a fiery temper and some of their arguments had been shockingly loud. “Why?”

  Kurt braced himself “For a start,” he said, “why didn't you tell the kids I was coming?”

  “I thought it was tomorrow,” Molly said, sullenly.

  “I told you it was today,” Kurt said, feeling his temper flare. When had he started hating his wife? “If you couldn't come and pick me up at the station, all you had to do was tell me and I would have taken a taxi home. But you didn't have to leave the kids unaware I was coming.”

  He took a breath. “And what about the money you’ve been spending?”

  “It's my money,” Molly snapped. “I have a right to spend it how I like!”

  “Yes, we agreed we would share the joint account,” Kurt said, trying to keep an icy grip on his temper. “But you’ve been spending money on expensive clothes, expensive handbags, expensive ... underwear! What the fuck have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been enjoying having money for the first time in years,” Molly thundered. She drew herself up to her full height and glared at him. “Why should I not spend it as I please?”

  “Because we have to think about the future,” Kurt snapped back. He took a long breath. “Penny will be in schooling for at least another three years; longer, if she wants to train as a doctor. We might have to pay for that training if she can’t win a scholarship. Percy might change his mind about what he wants to do with his life! And what happens if we run out of money because you’ve been spending it on overpriced clothes?”

  “All of my friends buy such clothes,” Molly said, sharply. “Why the hell shouldn't I?”

  “Because your friends are married to rich aristocrats, high-priced lawyers and corporate CEOs,” Kurt said. “The amount of money I got as my share of the prize fund is barely a month’s wages for them. But we won’t get another windfall like that, Molly, while they earn the same amount of money each month! We cannot afford to spend like rich men and women!”

  He took a breath. “And I don't understand some of your choices,” he added. “Are you having an affair?”

  Molly stared at him for a long moment, then exploded with rage. “Are you daring to suggest that I would have an affair with someone?”

  Kurt glared back at her. “Why the hell have you been avoiding me? I call from the moon; you’re never there! I send messages; you reply late, if at all. I’ve spent more time talking to Gayle than I’ve spent talking to you in the past three months. You knew I was coming today and yet you fucked off somewhere else while I had to take a taxi home and surprise my daughter! Why didn't you even tell them I was coming?”

  “I was busy,” Molly shouted.

  “Doing what?” Kurt shouted back. “What the hell have you been doing that keeps you from talking to your goddamned husband?”

  Molly grabbed for a vase and held it up, threateningly. Kurt reached for a plate, then stopped himself before his fingers closed around the fine china. They’d picked the christening plates for their children, years ago. He wasn't going to destroy them just because he’d had a fight with his wife. And yet ... what was she doing?

  It was worse, he realised mutely, than an affair. If she’d been honest, he would have been honest too ... but it was clear she no longer cared about him or their future. All she cared about was her chance to join High Society – or what passed for it in their hometown – without worrying about anything else. But it was unsustainable. The prize money would run out and then Molly would be dependent on the kindness of strangers. Her job – and his - didn't pay enough to maintain her lifestyle.

  “Do what you wish,” he said, suddenly feeling very tired. “I will put half of the money into reserve accounts for the kids. They will complete their schooling, no matter what you do with the rest of the money. And you can stay in this house as long as you like, provided you let the kids stay here too. I’ll even keep sending you and them money.”

  He took a breath. “It’s obvious you don’t give a shit any longer,” he added. “You can keep the remaining money; do what you like with it. But when you run out of cash to maintain your new lifestyle, I hope your lover will pick up the tab. Because I damn well can't and won’t.”

  “Get out,” Molly hissed.

  Kurt gave her a long look. How had their relationship failed so badly? Was it his fault for not earning enough to satisfy her or her fault for not accepting what he was? Or was it his fault for going to war and leaving her alone? In the end, it didn't matter.

  He picked up his coat and walked out of the door. There were trains running back to London at all hours of the day. He’d be able to get to the spaceport, then start his journey to his next posting. Or maybe he should speak to the kids first, let them know what had happened and why. But what could he tell them?

  Nothing, he thought, numbly. The anger had faded away, to be replaced by a numbness that dampened his soul. Nothing at all.

  Chapter Seven

  “Impressive sight, isn't it?”

  Ted nodded as Fitzwilliam stepped up behind him and stared out of the observation blister. It was rare to see so many warships gathered in one place, close enough to allow them to be seen with the naked eye. Even now, with running lights shining out in the inky darkness of space, the more distant ships were harder to tell apart from the glowing stars. He resisted the urge to consult the computer, which could have identified the ships for him instantly; instead, he merely watched as shuttles appeared out of the darkness and flew towards the landing bay.

  “Very impressive,” he said. “But also very fragile.”

  The three American carriers were among the largest in the known universe, he knew. They were easily twice the size of Ark Royal, studded with launching bays, missile tubes and sensor blisters. But, unlike the Old Lady, their armour was terrifyingly thin; they’d never been designed to serve as battleships as well as carriers. The aliens had shown them just how dangerous the design was when they’d destroyed several American carriers at New Russia, along with two British ships.

  Behind them, the French and Japanese carriers looked more conventional. The Japanese, in particular, had concentrated on a reliable design they could mass-produce, while the French had cooperated with the Royal Navy in designing their ships and it showed. Indeed, apart from a non-standard weapons configuration, Napoleon could easily have passed for a British modern carrier. But she had the same thin armour as the Japanese ship and her British counterparts. The ablative armour that had been hastily fitted to her hull was untested outside simulations. It was alarmingly possible, Ted knew
, that a close-range engagement with the aliens would be a repeat of the Battle of New Russia, with Ark Royal the only survivor.

  He closed his eyes in pain for a long moment, then looked past the carriers towards the two American Marine Expeditionary Ships. They were larger than any transports the Royal Marines had produced, although the British Commonwealth had never seriously considered the possibility of having to invade a densely-populated planet. Prior to Vera Cruz, Ted knew, the existence of the giant Marine Expeditionary Ships had provoked amusement and paranoia among the other powers. Were the Americans planning an imperialistic war? But now, Ted knew, they had good reason to be grateful for American paranoia.

  Or, he asked himself, did they know the aliens were out there?

  It was the old mystery, one that had occupied the minds of both conspiracy theorists and serious thinkers. Over the past thirty years, the major interstellar powers had built up their forces, despite no real threat of a war. Admittedly, there had been a brief dispute between America and China that could have turned into a major shooting war, but it had blown up out of nowhere. Maybe they’d all been a little paranoid after that confrontation ... or maybe the governments had known there was an unknown alien race out there, watching humanity. But humanity’s most advanced ships had proven no match for the aliens ...

  He pushed the thought aside, irritated. There was no point in wasting his time on conspiracy theories. The truth would come out in the end, he was sure, perhaps after everyone involved was safely dead. Besides, it was much more likely that the human race had been preparing for war with other humans. If they’d known about aliens, he suspected, the gentleman’s agreement banning mass drivers would have been quietly ignored.

  His communicator buzzed. “Admiral,” Lopez said, “they’re ready for you.”

  Ted nodded, then looked over at Fitzwilliam. “Here we go,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get off on a good foot.”

  There were no politicians or reporters in the group he’d invited to Ark Royal, so formal greeting ceremonies had been kept to a minimum. No one seemed to have complained as they were escorted through the ship to the main briefing room, even though not everyone had been invited. The only frigate commander to be welcomed onboard was the Chinese officer, who commanded the entire Chinese squadron. There just wasn't room for the remaining frigate commanders to attend in person.

  He ran into Lieutenant Lopez outside the room, who gave his dress uniform a brief once-over, brushed a speck of lint off his jacket and then pronounced it satisfactory. Ted sighed, remembering the days when he’d stood watch on the bridge wearing only uniform trousers and a shirt, then stepped through the hatch. The officers sitting at the table rose to their feet as he entered.

  “Please, be seated,” Ted said. He couldn’t help noticing that the officers had sorted themselves out by country, without exchanging more than a few words. That would have to change. “Thank you all for coming.”

  He took his seat at the head of the table, then allowed his gaze to move from face to face, matching them to the names in the files. Admiral Stanley Shallcross, Deputy Commander, looked brisk and efficient, his teeth pearly white against his dark skin. Beside him, wearing combat battledress, was Major General Roger Ross, a heavyset man with a reputation for winning against impossible odds. The United States Marine Corps had sent their best and brightest to the fight, Ted knew. They’d practiced forced landings on a planetary surface more than anyone else. And they called Ross the Rhino.

  Further down the table, Capitaine de vaisseau Paul-Henri Bellerose and Captain Atsuko looked ill-at-ease to be sitting together, while Captain Wang Lei looked fairly isolated, even though he was their equal in rank. Ted wasn't too surprised. The Chinese officer was not only an unknown, he commanded a frigate rather than a carrier. But the Chinese reluctance to commit a carrier to the multinational force had been impossible to overcome, no matter what the diplomats said. They didn't trust the Americans enough to place a carrier anywhere near a fleet the Americans might command.

  Ted sighed, inwardly. It would be hard enough fighting the aliens. He didn't need political warfare as well.

  Beside their respective commanders, there were a handful of officers; carrier commanders, flag lieutenants and one Chinese woman wearing an unmarked uniform. Ted guessed she was the political commissioner, although it was equally possible she was the Captain’s assistant or woman. There were plenty of rumours about the freedom granted to Chinese officers by their government, although those freedoms were offered as bribes to keep them loyal, or so Ted had heard. Or maybe they were just exaggerations. The only place he’d visited where the exaggerations hadn't been anything of the sort was Sin City.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, silently relieved that English was still the official tongue for spacefaring operations. Both Americans and British Commonwealth citizens spoke it and, between them, they made almost a third of the population off-world. The children born on interplanetary and interstellar settlements were taught English along with their mother tongue. “Welcome to Task Force Nelson.”

  He paused, trying to gauge their reaction, then continued. “Our mission is both simple and very complex. Simple, because the objective is clear enough; complex, because we are going to be diving into unknown space and attempting to occupy or destroy an alien-held star system behind the front lines. If we succeed, we should knock them back on their heels and buy time for humanity to produce more starships and weapons of war.

  “If we lose, it could shorten the war.

  “You have all read your briefing packets, I assume,” he said. “Do you have any questions before we proceed?”

  “Just one,” the French Captain said. “How sure are we of the data pulled from the alien systems?”

  Ted looked over at Lieutenant Phipps, who had been assigned to Ark Royal until the task force actually departed. “We are as sure of it as we can be,” Phipps said. “We considered the possibility of misinformation or misinterpretation, but we believe the probability to be very low. What we have managed to check, through gravimetric surveys, has held water.”

  “Right,” Ross said. “Do we know anything about the defences on the far end?”

  “Nothing,” Ted said. “We may break through their defence walls and emerge in an undefended region of space or we may discover the star system is heavily defended. There is literally no way to check until we actually reach the system.”

  He sighed. Basic theory suggested that the aliens wouldn't have bothered to fortify their inner systems, but one look at the human sphere disproved that theory. The major settled worlds all had their own defences, while a quite staggering amount of firepower had been gathered around Earth. Even if the aliens didn't have their own national subgroups, it was unlikely that they’d completely ruled out the prospect of an attack on their homeworld, wherever it was. It was presumably shown on the charts they’d pulled from the alien battlecruiser, but there had been nothing to identify it.

  “There is a considerable amount of risk associated with this operation,” he admitted. “But all war is risk.”

  There was a long pause. “We will not survive this operation,” he added, “unless we work together. From now until the day we leave, we will run simulations and even live fire exercises, testing ourselves against the best we know the aliens can provide – and worse. We will streamline our procedures for issuing orders, carrying out combat manoeuvres and everything else we need to do to act as a single entity. I expect each and every one of you to work together to ensure we survive this operation.

  “I have the authority, granted by your countries, to relieve any of you who proves a barrier to working together,” he warned. “And I will not hesitate to use it, because more is riding on this operation than human pride. If we lose this operation, the human race could very easily lose the war and the fate of New Russia will fall on Earth and all of our settled worlds.”

  He took a long breath. He did have such authority, but he knew that using it would kick off a
political shitstorm. No matter the justice of his actions, someone would complain and the alliance would stagger. As irritating as the thought was, he might have to help cover it up afterwards rather than let it fester and poison the diplomatic agreements reached by the various governments.

  “If any of you have a problem with this,” he concluded, “I’m sorry. But there’s no alternative.”

  He waited to see if anyone would speak, but heard nothing. “Good,” he said. he keyed a switch, activating the holographic display. A star chart appeared in front of them, human tramlines in green, alien tramlines in red. He couldn't help noticing that the aliens had several routes they could take into human space that would allow them to outflank most of the defenders, if they chose to take them. “Our ships have been modified to allow us to use the alien tramlines, which will give us a considerable advantage over the old drives.”