Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch

by Christopher Nuttal

  Lopez looked up, surprised – perhaps – by his use of her first name. Her eyes were bleary, as if she had been crying. Ted didn't blame her. Losing a loved one was always hard. If it had been up to him, he would give her a week of freedom from her duties and then talk to her. But somehow he suspected he didn't have the time. She needed to come to terms with what he intended to tell her.

  “Admiral,” she said. “I ...”

  Ted looked her up and down, then sat beside her. “We have to talk,” he said. “I'm sorry for your loss, but we have to talk.”

  He found himself tongue-tied, again. “Charles Augustus ... wasn't just Charles Augustus,” he said. She looked up, sharply. “He was a bit more than just another starfighter pilot.”

  Janelle looked at him. “Your son?”

  Ted shook his head. Why would anyone assume that Charles Augustus had been his son? If he had been, he wouldn’t have been allowed to serve under Ted’s command, no matter how many layers there were between him and his father. But it was far more serious than that ...

  “His real name was Henry,” he said, quietly. “Prince Henry.”

  Janelle stiffened beside him. “No,” she said. “You’re lying.”

  Saying that to an Admiral was grounds for court martial, or at least some thoroughly unpleasant duties, but Ted let it pass. She was upset, after all, and there were no witnesses. And he probably wasn't handling it very well. He might have come to think of her as a daughter of sorts, but he had no real experience in handling children. There had been no son or daughter in his life.

  “I wish I was,” Ted said. He wouldn’t have played such a joke on anyone for anything, no matter how much he disliked them. “You must have read his file, when you had a chance. It was rather thin.”

  Janelle twitched, uncomfortably. “Why ... why didn't he tell me?”

  “He wanted a normal life,” Ted confessed. “I believe he intended to tell you after we successfully escaped Target One, but he never had the chance.”

  He paused. “How did you feel about him?”

  “I liked him,” Janelle said. She started to shake, tears dripping from her eyes. “But how much of what I saw was a lie?”

  “None of it, I believe,” Ted said, trying to comfort her. “But he didn't tell you about his family. Or his title.”

  He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly while she cried. She had cared for Prince Henry, perhaps even loved him, although Ted knew that such relationships, forged in the heat of battle, rarely survived the test of time. The stress of knowing that death could come at any moment pushed people into bed together, but if they survived they sometimes discovered they’d made a mistake. And that happened without discovering that one person wasn't quite who they claimed to be.

  At least there’s no risk of pregnancy, he thought. They would both have had implants.

  “It will get worse,” Ted said. “His death will unleash the hounds of hell, otherwise known as the reporters.”

  She shuddered. Like him, she’d seen the reporters who had been embedded with Ark Royal’s crew during their previous mission. She knew just how awful they could be when they thought the public – or they, at least – had a right to know. And that had been when she’d been nothing more than a very junior midshipwoman. What would they be like when she was the lover of the dead prince?

  “Don't tell them,” she said. “Please.”

  “I intend to tell no one, apart from the King,” Ted said. He had a feeling the Prince’s father deserved to know. Besides, covering it up completely probably wasn’t possible. “But if they find out ...”

  He shook his head. “It could be very bad.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lopez said.

  Ted carefully released her and stood. “Take the next few days off,” he said. They were still in alien-controlled space, but he suspected she would be useless in the CIC. “And ...”

  He took a breath. “If you need to talk to someone, you can always talk to me,” he added. “I’ll always have time for you.”

  There would be talk if people noticed, yet there was no choice. It was rare for an Admiral to talk openly to his subordinate, but there was no one else on the ship she could confide in, not now. Did she even have friends among the crew? Most of the people she'd worked with while the carrier had sat in the Naval Reserve were gone now, promoted to other ships. And as the Admiral’s assistant, she was isolated from the newcomers.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, miserably.

  Ted looked at her sadly, then walked out of the cabin.

  ***

  “You’d think they’d be coming after us with everything they had,” Rose said.

  Kurt nodded. One system had given way to another – the site of the previous ambush – yet the aliens hadn't even tried to bar their way. Indeed, they’d almost seemed inclined to just let the humans go without further trouble. The pilots had speculated that the aliens were scared of the fleet – why not, after they’d pounded their way through several alien formations? – but Kurt suspected it was something else. And, when they found out the truth, he had a nasty feeling they weren’t going to like it.

  “Let's not be ungrateful,” he said. The crew had been working constantly to repair as much as they could of the damaged ships. If the aliens wanted to give them time to make repairs, the Admiral had said, why not let them? “We can find other uses for our time.”

  Rose snorted. She lay naked on the deck, happy after a long bout of lovemaking that had cheered them both up after the shock of discovering just how many pilots had been killed in the fighting and the struggle to reintegrate the remaining fighters into a handful of squadrons. The French pilots, at least, seemed to be fitting in well, but many of them were badly depressed. It was hard to blame them after watching Napoleon’s sudden and violent death.

  “Yes,” Rose said, as she rolled over and straddled him. “I suppose we can.”

  Afterwards, Kurt remembered his children and wondered, bitterly, what had happened to them. Had Molly poisoned their minds against him? Or had she simply left them in the care of the hired help and vanished with ... someone? Or ... what? There was no way to know until they reached Earth. Absently, he wondered just how she would react to discovering that there was no more prize money. Would she be horrified, knowing that her new lifestyle was hardly sustainable, or would she demand that he continue to finance her anyway? Or what ...?

  “You’re thinking about the future again,” Rose teased. She leaned down to kiss his lips, then pulled herself off him. “Don’t. It’s bad habit.”

  “I got it from spending too much time in the Reserve,” Kurt admitted. “But you should think about the future too.”

  “I try to avoid it,” Rose said. “If I think too much about the future, I might not have a past.”

  She was right, Kurt knew. Starfighter pilots tried to live every day as though it were their last day to live. For too many of them, since the way had begun, it had been their last day. If there was trouble in Sin City or one of the more ... sedate places, chances were that there was a starfighter pilot at the bottom of it. The MPs made allowances. Sometimes.

  “You may not be flying for much longer,” he pointed out. “What will you do then?”

  “This is wartime,” Rose reminded him. “Do you really expect them to keep the three-year rule now?”

  “No,” Kurt said, after a long moment. “But you’ll burn out, sooner or later.”

  Rose stood, her bare breasts bouncing as she moved. “I’ll just go on like you until I run into a plasma bolt with my name on it,” she said. “And the future can take care of itself.”

  She walked into the washroom. Kurt watched her go, admiring the muscles in her legs and buttocks, then stood and followed her. She was right. They might as well enjoy themselves while they could, because time would run out sooner or later. And when it did, they would die just as quickly as Prince Henry.

  ***

  Ted half-expected trouble when they t
ransited back into the Terra Nova star system. The aliens might have been able to rush a blocking force in place to stop them, even though it was just one transit from Earth. But instead, there was an alarming shortage of starships – human or alien – in the system. And the planet itself was emitting almost no radio emissions. Cold ice ran down his spine as he realised that something had happened while they’d been gone.

  “Picking up a signal,” Lopez reported. She'd insisted on returning to duty two days after their talk, even though he'd been prepared to offer her a longer break. There was something harsh and cold in her voice, as if something had died in her along with her lover. Ted worried about her, more than he cared to admit. “They’re saying ...”

  She took a long breath. “Sir, they’re saying that Earth has been attacked,” she added. “The aliens were beaten off, but they inflicted huge damage.”

  “Take us to the tramline,” Ted ordered. They’d have to get the full story from the First Space Lord, but it explained why the aliens had taken so long to respond to Operation Nelson. They’d launched their own operation at the same time! “Abandon stealth; best possible speed.”

  Bitterly, he settled back in his command chair to wait.

  Chapter Forty

  “Welcome back, Ted,” the First Space Lord said. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Tea, please,” Ted said. The urge to take something stronger was almost overpowering, but he knew once he started he might never be able to stop. Again. “Thank you, sir.”

  The trip from the tramline to Earth had been nightmarish. A full quarter of the asteroid settlements mankind had created had been destroyed, while Mars and Venus had both been bombarded and the aliens had barely been kept from smashing the cloudscoops orbiting Jupiter and Saturn. Luna had taken a number of glancing blows – Sin City had been badly damaged, for no apparent reason – and several weapons had fallen on Earth herself. The general theory was that the aliens had struck Earth by accident, but it was no consolation to the millions who had died or found themselves homeless.

  And the losses in starships were almost worse. Seven carriers, nearly a hundred frigates and dozens of other ships had simply been wiped out. The aliens, thankfully, hadn’t targeted the shipyards specifically, but they’d done enough damage to cripple humanity’s attempts to rebuild the fleet. Overall, Ted knew, for all the damage Operation Nelson had done, the aliens might have ensured their eventual victory over the human race.

  “I saw your report,” the First Space Lord said, softly. “You did well, Ted.”

  “Not well enough,” Ted grated. They’d hoped to deal the aliens a decisive blow. Instead, the aliens had hurt the human race badly. “And we lost the Prince.”

  “His Majesty and the Privy Council have already been informed,” the First Space Lord said. “I imagine they’ll move quickly to capitalise on Henry’s” – his voice became cold, almost sardonic – “glorious death in battle. The strikes on Earth caused considerable damage to our morale.”

  “There are other considerations,” Ted said, “but none of them are important now.”

  “Probably not,” the First Space Lord agreed. “We honestly don’t know how to proceed.”

  Ted sighed. There was the prospect – a very faint prospect – of locating an alien faction that wasn't bent on a war of genocide. But, even now, the analysts hadn't been able to determine if the faction genuinely existed or if it was just another attempt to deceive the human race. Had they been deliberately lured to Target Two or was that just, from the alien point of view, a happy accident? It was quite possible that the aliens would want to prevent the task force from encountering Faction Two ... assuming, of course, that Faction Two actually existed. There was no way to say for sure.

  But the aliens had knocked humanity back, hard. How long would it be until they came and finished the job?

  Maybe it’s time to start planning an evacuation of the best and brightest of humanity, he thought. A ragtag fleet of starships making their way from star to star, looking for a new home.

  He pushed the thought aside. It was his duty to stand and fight in the defence of Britannia, Earth and the whole human race. Others could try to make an escape, if they could. He would stay and fight.

  “There are several promising lines of investigation,” he said. “And we have new insights into both alien technology and civilisation.”

  “If we can call whatever they have a civilisation,” the First Space Lord muttered.

  He looked up. “Ted, you and your crew will have to remain on your ships for the moment,” he added, in a firmer voice. “There will probably be an inquest into the Prince’s death at some point, but I doubt it will be pointing too many fingers, not now.”

  Ted swallowed. The media had turned him into a hero once and it would do it again, but it was very much a double-edged sword. If they decided to brand him as the villain instead ... his reputation might not survive, even if his career remained intact. And God alone knew what would happen when they heard about Prince Henry and Janelle Lopez. He'd probably find himself painted as the villain in their tragic love affair.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, finally.

  “During that time, I want you to work out proposals for taking the offensive once again,” the First Space Lord added. “And for contacting Faction Two, assuming they really exist.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ted said, again.

  “You’ll probably be also asked to testify in front of American and French inquests,” the First Space Lord warned. “In that case, I suggest you seek advice from my staff first. They will be looking for someone to blame for the loss of thousands of crew and a pair of very expensive carriers.”

  “I know,” Ted said. It was hard to escape the feeling he deserved it. Frigates could be built relatively quickly, but carriers took years to produce. “I’ll inform you if I get any demands for my presence.”

  The First Space Lord nodded and clapped Ted’s shoulder. “Good man,” he said. “Whatever else happened, Ted, you and your men did well. Don’t forget that, please.”

  Ted sighed. They had, he knew, and he had been looking forward to returning home and tallying up the alien fleets and planetary defences they’d destroyed. But the alien attack on Earth had made a mockery of his plans. The aliens had been hurt, yet the human race had been hurt worse. And the Prince was dead. Britain was likely to end up with political chaos at the worst possible time.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. He finished his tea and stood. “With your permission, sir, I would like to return to my flagship.”

  “Granted,” the First Space Lord said. “And thank you, once again.”

  ***

  “They blew up Sin City?”

  North sounded shocked. Kurt couldn't blame him. Sin City had been part of their lives ever since they'd been accepted into the training program. Now, the city had been badly damaged, leaving them with nowhere to go when they wanted to enjoy themselves. But it wasn't the worst of it.

  He swore as another message popped up in the buffer. Several pilots had lost friends and family, either in the desperate fight to defend Earth or down on the ground when the missiles hit. He’d already steered several pilots to private chambers where they could read the messages, then asked for counselling help for his men. But it was unlikely that anyone would be sent from Earth to tend to his crewmen. There were just too many problems on the planet below.

  And then he realised that the message was addressed to him, personally.

  He hesitated, fearful of what it might say, then downloaded the message into his private terminal and beckoned to Rose. She came over, puzzled; he showed her the message, then asked her to keep an eye on the remainder of the pilots. After a long moment, she gave him a hug – even though they weren't in private – and motioned for him to leave the compartment. Bracing himself, Kurt walked down to his office, locked the hatch and opened the message.

  We regret to inform you that your children, Percy and Penelope Schneider, have been transferred to Re
fugee Camp #19. Gayle Parkinson has recorded herself as their caretaker-of-note and has remained with them. Molly Schneider remains missing, location and current status unknown. If you wish to provide accommodation for your children and their caretaker-of-note, please contact the Refugee Commission or visit Refugee Camp #19 in person, bringing ID and details of their new address.

  Kurt let out a sigh of relief, then stared down at the message. Where the hell was Molly? What had she been doing when the shit hit the fan? And what had happened, down on Earth, to drive his children out of their home?

  “I need to get down there,” he muttered. The Admiral had told them that no one would be allowed to go down to Earth, but he could request special permission to go if he tried. And he had an urgent need to go. The few broadcasts he’d heard from the planet below had painted the refugee camps as horrific nightmares, crammed full of too many people for comfort. “They can't stay there.”