Authors: Christopher Nuttall
“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?”
“Aye, sir,” Lightbridge said. “We can reach our destination in two jumps.”
“Then take us to the jump point, best possible speed,” Ted ordered. “But do not activate the Puller Drive without my specific authorisation.”
He settled back in his command chair and watched the updates from engineering as the crew scurried around, fixing the problems that had become apparent. If there was a real problem, he knew, they would have to hold position in the Sol System so that it could be fixed ... but, thankfully, it didn't look as though there was any need to wait. The engineering crew had the tools and spare parts to replace the useless or burned out components. Anderson and his staff had spent the last two weeks scrounging up everything they could and stuffing every last compartment in the ship with spare parts.
Ark Royal
could, in theory, operate for several years without needing outside supplies.
“The computer cores are holding together, thankfully,” Anderson said. “I was worried they would object when we actually started to move.”
“I know,” Ted said. “Keep monitoring their progress.”
He scowled, knowing how tricky that was likely to be. The different generations of computer systems had never been designed to work together, let alone the ones that came from outside the Commonwealth. In hindsight, he suspected, the human race might have good reason to regret not establishing a few common standards for technology. Right now, a British carrier couldn't be repaired with spare parts from a Chinese carrier. If the human race managed to remain united – and without unity, they were surely going to lose the war – that was going to have to be fixed.
Assuming we trusted them not to play games
, he thought. The Admiralty hadn't objected to
Ark Royal’s
crew using begged or scrounged Chinese components, but he'd always assumed that his superiors hadn't bothered to read his reports. His crew had always checked the systems carefully, yet it was quite possible that they’d missed something dangerous, something the Chinese could use to manipulate the carrier to their advantage. Would they try anything like that when the human race needed to remain united?
The starship quivered again as the main drives came to life, pushing her forward towards the jump point.
Ark Royal
handled badly, compared to a frigate or a starfighters, but there was a reassuring firmness around her actions that more modern carriers lacked. Or was that just his imagination, after seeing so many powerful ships torn apart with terrifying speed? No wonder the civilians were panicking – along with quite a few politicians. The Battle of New Russia had lasted barely ten minutes, most of which had been spent getting into position.