The Cruel Stars

by Christopher Nuttall

  Someone was speaking. He could hear them. And yet, the words were beyond his comprehension, as if they were millions of miles away. He was so cold! He could hear the hiss of escaping air. And yet it was so hard to panic. His thoughts were slowing down ...

  ... And then the whole world started to fade away.

  I did well, didn't I? He asked, as the darkness claimed him. I tried ...

  But there was no answer waiting for him.

  Epilogue

  The world came back in fits and starts.

  Light. Heat. Voices ... voices speaking English. And that meant ...

  Alan opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed, staring up at a white ceiling. A handful of doctors were gathered around him, their faces hidden behind surgical masks. He couldn't move ... panic screamed through his mind before he realised that they’d strapped him to the bed. He hoped that was a good sign, but he doubted it. Patients who went into Colchester’s infirmity were always cuffed to the bed.

  “Good morning,” a voice said. “What do you remember?”

  Alan forced himself to think. “I ... Abigail?”

  “She’s recovering,” the voice said. He couldn't tell which of the doctors was speaking. “I need to know what you remember.”

  “I was on the shuttle,” Alan recalled. The memories were sharp, perhaps too sharp. “We took the suspension drugs and ... what happened?”

  One of the doctors held up a hand. “You’re safe now,” he said. “The war has been over for five years. And ... we need to run some tests before we let you run loose.”

  Alan sighed and tried to relax. “Fine.”

  He’d hoped the tests wouldn't take very long, but the doctors seemed intent on making him suffer before letting him leave the hospital. Five days of everything from physical therapy to brain-scans and chats with various psychologists ... he couldn't help feeling, by the time he was finally allowed to talk to a naval representative, that he was on the verge of going completely insane. They’d practically wrapped him in cotton wool. Surely, the world couldn't have changed that much in five years.

  My oldest daughter will be seventeen now, he thought. The thought hurt. How much of her life have I missed?

  The naval representative was oddly familiar. And yet, it took him far too long to recognise Bennett.

  “It's been a while,” Bennett said, wryly. He looked older, his hair grown out into a long ponytail. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  Alan looked down at his white hospital tunic. “I feel as though they’ve poked and prodded every last bit of me,” he said. “I ...”

  The door opened. Abigail stepped into the room. She hadn't changed either.

  “Welcome back,” Bennett said, as Alan gave her a hug. “It’s been some time.”

  “Longer for you than for us,” Abigail said. She sounded steady, thankfully. “I was told I had to speak with you before the wardens let us out.”

  Bennett’s brow furrowed, reprovingly. “They’re hospital staff, not prison wardens,” he said, dryly. “Believe me, you’re lucky to get this sort of treatment.”

  Alan frowned. “What happened? I mean ... with the war?”

  “I have a historical packet for you,” Bennett said. “You can read it later. Right now ... I have a number of issues to discuss.”

  He paused, meaningfully. “Alan, your formal pardon was granted when it became clear you were still alive,” he said. “The navy’s original assumption was that neither you nor Abigail had survived the battle, so your pensions and trust funds were paid out to your children. Both of your children, I should say. Given the publicity, it was decided to simply give you both substantial sums of money after you were found to be alive after all. The navy takes care of its own.

  “That said, there was a lot of publicity and some of it was quite unpleasant. My very strong advice would be to take the money and go to the belt.”

  “Never mind that,” Abigail said. “What about our families?”

  Bennett grinned. “Anson and Maddy did get married, as it happened. They found places on another escort carrier, then went to the commercial world after the end of the war. Right now, they have two kids and a third on the way. Poddy decided to stay in the navy - she’s currently XO on an escort carrier. I believe they’ve both sent letters for you.

  “Jeanette and Alice were lucky to survive the war. They ... they became refugees after the alien attack on Earth and wound up helping to rebuild parts of Scotland. As the daughters of a war hero, they had no problem winning scholarships to Hanover Towers ... which caused some problems when the truth came out. That said, they’re both still alive and reasonably well and ... we can arrange for them to be shipped here, if you wish.”

  Alan stared. “And their grandparents?”

  “They didn't survive the war,” Bennett told him, bluntly. “We don’t know precisely what happened. These days ... if you don’t know what happened to someone, they’re probably dead.”

  Alan felt cold. He’d always assumed, deep inside, that his daughters would be safe. But ... they'd come far too close to death. And the in-laws had died. He didn't know what to make of it. The world had changed overnight.

  For me, it changed overnight, he thought. But not for them.

  “For what it’s worth, we can help you get set up with a new identity,” Bennett said. “Or you can just go to the belt.”

  “The belt sounds good,” Alan said. He had to see his daughters. But afterwards ...? “Do we have enough money to buy a freighter?”

  “We can offer you very good terms,” Bennett said. He smiled. “You’ll still be in the reserve, but ... you’re both in the reserve already.”

  “Good,” Abigail said. “Has the belt changed?”

  Bennett looked at her. “Everything’s changed,” he said. “But we’ll try to help you through it.”

  Alan swallowed. “We won, didn't we?”

  “Yeah,” Bennett said. “We won. Barely, but we won.”

  “Then that’s all that matters,” Alan said. “I want to see my daughters, then go to the belt.”

  “As you wish,” Bennett said. He bowed his head, very slightly. “And, both of you, welcome home.”

  The End

  Afterword

  There are, in my (not so) humble opinion, two kinds of story, at least where military and war fiction is concerned.

  The first is an event story, focused on a particular event - a war, for example. There’s no particular focus on characters, just on a given situation and how they react to it. David Weber’s Crusade, In Death Ground and The Shiva Option are good examples of event stories.

  The second is a character story, one focused on a relatively small cast of characters rather than the overall war. David Weber’s Honor Harrington books are good examples: there is, on one hand, a pretty significant war dominating the storyline, but a handful of characters are the real focus of the book.

  Very few books (and movies/television series) manage to combine the two kinds of story into a seamless whole. Tom Clancy’s Red Storm Rising, Peter F. Hamilton’s The Night’s Dawn Trilogy, Babylon 5, Deep Space Nine ... all balance, somehow, characters and events. It simply isn’t easy to do both at once, leading to a colossal expansion of the story’s universe and the eventual sidelining of any character development. Indeed, the recent Honor Harrington books have - deliberately or otherwise - started to slip from character story to event story, a shift that has produced decidedly mixed reviews.

  When I started work on what would become Ark Royal, I was determined to keep the focus squarely on Theodore Smith and his crew. It would, I felt, ensure that the book didn’t expand too far, too fast. A number of details about the war, therefore, existed as nothing more than vague planning notes. I considered writing The Longest Day before The Trafalgar Gambit, simply because the attack on Earth overshadowed events in The Nelson Touch. But The Longest Day was - it had to be - an event book. I made the decision, eventually, to leave it until later. Not all of my readers liked me going
back to fill in holes, but I thought it needed to be done.

  The Cruel Stars is, of course, a character story. It’s also something that existed as a vague set of notes while I was writing Ark Royal. I mean, the Royal Navy isn't going to sit down and wait for Theodore Smith to produce a victory. Ark Royal wasn't going to be the only starship fighting the aliens and buying time for humanity to prepare its defences. But what sort of ships would they be?

  I drew inspiration from the escort carriers of WW2, converted freighters crewed by merchantmen as well as military officers. It made sense in the context of the universe I had created, both as a way to slow down the aliens and to showcase another aspect of the universe (the belt communities). But who would crew them? Who would be considered usable, yet expendable? Criminals, of course. Men and women who would have the chance to earn a pardon, if they survived, yet wouldn't be counted as any great loss if they didn't. Cold and harsh, perhaps, but dictated by a universe that had suddenly become very unfriendly to mankind.

  I hope you enjoyed reading The Cruel Stars. If you liked it, please leave a review ...

  ... And the next book in the series will be set after We Lead.

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Edinburgh, 2017

  Appendix: Glossary of UK Terms and Slang

  [Author’s Note: I’ve tried to define every incident of specifically UK slang in this glossary, but I can’t promise to have spotted everything. If you spot something I’ve missed, please let me know and it will be included.]

  Aggro - slang term for aggression or trouble, as in ‘I don’t want any aggro.’

  Beasting/Beasted - military slang for anything from a chewing out by one’s commander to outright corporal punishment or hazing. The latter two are now officially banned.

  Binned - SAS slang for a prospective recruit being kicked from the course, then returned to unit (RTU).

  Boffin - Scientist

  Bootnecks - slang for Royal Marines. Loosely comparable to ‘Jarhead.’

  Bottle - slang for nerve, as in ‘lost his bottle.’

  Borstal - a school/prison for young offenders.

  Compo - British army slang for improvised stews and suchlike made from rations and sauces.

  Donkey Wallopers - slang for the Royal Horse Artillery.

  DORA - Defence of the Realm Act.

  Fortnight - two weeks. (Hence the terrible pun, courtesy of the Goon Show, that Fort Knight cannot possibly last three weeks.)

  ‘Get stuck into’ - ‘start fighting.’

  ‘I should coco’ - ‘you’re damned right.’

  Kip - sleep.

  Levies - native troops. The Ghurkhas are the last remnants of native troops from British India.

  Lorries - trucks.

  MOD - Ministry of Defence. (The UK’s Pentagon.)

  Order of the Garter - the highest order of chivalry (knighthood) and the third most prestigious honour (inferior only to the Victoria Cross and George Cross) in the United Kingdom. By law, there can be only twenty-four non-royal members of the order at any single time.

  Panda Cola - Coke as supplied by the British Army to the troops.

  RFA - Royal Fleet Auxiliary

  Rumbled - discovered/spotted.

  SAS - Special Air Service.

  SBS - Special Boat Service

  Spotted Dick - a traditional fruity sponge pudding with suet, citrus zest and currants served in thick slices with hot custard. The name always caused a snigger.

  Squaddies - slang for British soldiers.

  Stag - guard duty.

  STUFT - ‘Ships Taken Up From Trade,’ civilian ships requisitioned for government use.

  TAB (tab/tabbing) - Tactical Advance to Battle.

  Tearaway - boisterous/badly behaved child, normally a teenager.

  Walt - Poser, i.e. someone who claims to have served in the military and/or a very famous regiment. There’s a joke about 22 SAS being the largest regiment in the British Army - it must be, because of all the people who claim to have served in it.

  Wanker - Masturbator (jerk-off). Commonly used as an insult.

  Wank/Wanking - Masturbating.

  Yank/Yankee - Americans