Ark Royal (20 page)

He ran through the rest of the notes – a short primer on how to behave on the ship – and then led them to their cabins.  Originally, the cabins had been intended for an Admiral and his staff; they were the largest cabins on the ship.  Even three or four reporters to a compartment was better than the junior crewmen received, deep in the bowels of the ship.  But the complaining started almost at once.

What exactly did they expect
?  James asked himself. 
A massive compartment for each of them, alone?  With a bath and a dressing room and ...

He shook his head, then smiled at them, humourlessly.  “You can return to Earth if you like,” he said.  “The shuttle will still be in the bay for another hour or two.  If you don't like the quarters, you can return to Earth.  However, there is no guarantee of receiving another embedded post.”

It was interesting, he decided, as the complaints faded away, just to see who was doing the complaining.  None of the prior embeds had complained, even slightly.  James made a mental note to glance at their files.  The newcomers were the ones who complained loudest at the prospect of sharing quarters.  James could understand a desire for privacy, but anyone who wanted privacy shouldn't bother to join the navy.  He'd seen his first crewmates naked more times than he cared to remember.

“You are welcome to join the senior crew in the mess for dinner,” James lied, smoothly.  “If, of course, you do not wish to join the junior crew instead.”

He smiled at their reactions.  Had they expected room service?  The Captain was the only person on the ship who was allowed to eat meals in his cabin – even Admirals had to eat in the wardroom with their staff.  But the reporters seemed to think they should be allowed to eat apart from the crew.

His smile grew wider.  Just wait until they encountered naval food.

***

Ted looked up at the holographic display, silently cursing the First Space Lord under his breath.  Being granted an international rank – a honour held by only a handful of officers, only one other of them British – came with an additional salary, but it also came with new and unpleasant responsibilities.  The twenty-seven starships currently assembled around
Ark Royal
represented eight different navies, only three of them solid British allies.  The remainder were deeply suspicious of the combined defence command’s decision to assign them to the deep-space raiding mission.

They had reason to be suspicious, Ted decided, as he surveyed the ships.  Most of them were younger than
Ark Royal
, but hadn't been updated as thoroughly as the massive carrier.  Their heavy armour would give them an advantage against alien starfighters – although probably not the giant plasma weapon the aliens had used in the previous battle – but their drives and weapons were heavily outdated. 
Ark Royal
was a lumbering brute of a ship, yet a handful of the smaller ships weren't even capable of keeping pace with her.  If it had been up to him, Ted knew, most of them would have been broken down into spare parts and replaced with more modern ships.

The only real advantage, he knew, was the older weapons they carried.  Unlike the newer designs, they had the fittings for mass drivers and adding them onto their hulls hadn't taken more than a few days.  Ted hadn't been too surprised to discover that several governments had stockpiled mass drivers, despite the unspoken agreement against deploying them.  The older ships also carried additional missile racks, all of which might come in handy when they faced the aliens for the second time.  But they were still critically low in starfighters.

Ted sighed, then looked down at the latest update from the Admiralty.  No one seemed disposed to cut loose a modern carrier, not even one of the freighters that had been hastily reconfigured into a makeshift starfighter platform.  Not that
that
was entirely unwelcome, he decided; the makeshift platforms had been constructed so rapidly, with so much improvising, that they could barely launch a single squadron of fighters and then only at a terrifyingly slow rate.  But with modern carriers suddenly very vulnerable, it was hard to blame the Admiralty – and its foreign counterparts – for clutching at straws.

He needed a drink.  Desperately.

The door chimed.  “Come.”

Commander Fitzwilliam strode into the cabin, looking like a man in desperate need of a drink.  Ted knew precisely how he felt.  Passing the reporters over to Commander Fitzwilliam had been a mean trick, but Ted was damned if he was wasting any of his own time on the reporters.  Besides, he had to speak with his new subordinates, reassure them as much as possible that he had no intention of wasting their lives, then plan their deployment to New Russia.  The direct route, he’d already decided, was out.

“The reporters are settled in their cabins,” Commander Fitzwilliam said, taking the chair Ted indicated.  “They're already grumbling about the arrangements.”

Ted shrugged.  It was hard to care, not when most of his pre-
Ark Royal
career had been spent in shared cabins and wardrooms.

“Some of them might have had prior relationships,” he said, after a moment.  “They can change their sleeping places, if they wish.”

“They’re reporters,” James agreed.  There were stories about how reporters sometimes behaved while on deployment.  Most of them were probably nonsense, but Ted was old enough to know the more outrageous the story, the greater the chance there was a kernel of truth in it somewhere.  “If they want to have foursomes and tell themselves they’re being daring to have them on a military ship ...”

Ted snorted.  “I’ve spoken to our new allies,” he said.  “We’re going to be going the long way around.”

He tapped the control, bringing up the planned route.  It would take them by a couple of human settlements, but otherwise the star systems in question were largely useless.  No commercial pilot would sign off on such a course – it would burn up too much of their power cells – yet Ted didn't have to worry about that, not during wartime.  If they were lucky, it would allow them to evade enemy pickets until they actually reached New Russia.

And if we’re not lucky
, he told himself darkly,
we could find ourselves in some real trouble
.

He looked up at the tramlines.  Human-accessible tramlines were marked in green, but prospective alien tramlines, marked in red, ran through them like an infestation.  Given a struck of luck, the aliens could see them coming and set up an ambush ... or simply prepare the defences of New Russia.  So far, they hadn't shown much interest in other human worlds in the same direction, but that was probably because the worlds were effectively worthless from a military point of view.  Whatever they had in mind for humanity could wait until after the end of the war.

“Understandable,” Commander Fitzwilliam agreed.  “But I wish we knew more about what was happening at New Russia itself.”

Ted nodded.  So far, according to the Admiralty, the Russians had tried to slip a handful of ships into the system.  But none of them had reported back.  The aliens were clearly
very
good at locating intruders and picking them off before they could get back to the tramlines. 

“Me too,” he said.  “Me too.”

***

Kurt strode into the briefing room ... and stopped, in surprise, when he saw some of his pilots gathered around a blonde girl who looked too thin to be real.  One of the reporters, he realised, remembering that some of them had requested permission to attend the briefings.  Sighing, Kurt walked to the podium and whistled, loudly.  A little shamefaced, his pilots turned back to face him.

“I see you’ve met our new friend,” he said, softly.  “However, I’m going to have to tell you to put her out of your minds.  We have a great deal to cover and not much time.”

He scowled from face to face until he had their attention, then continued.  “First, a warm welcome to the newcomers, who have
finally
arrived.  Not their fault, I hasten to add, but we’re having to reorganise the squadrons while en route to our target and that’s going to be a pain in the butt.  The new squadron rosters are posted on the datanet; I've appointed brevet squadron leaders from the more experienced pilots to take command.”

There was a long pause.  “Seniority alone was not counted,” he added.  None of the newcomers had any experience facing the alien starfighters.  “If any of you have a problem with it, go tell the XO you want to spend the rest of the cruise in the brig and save me some time.”

He met Rose’s eyes briefly.  He’d spoken to her already, telling her that she would be one of the new squadron leaders.  Thankfully, she'd accepted the challenge without demur.  Ted wasn't sure if she was completely reliable, but she did have experience and she needed something to focus on, beside her desire for revenge.

“We have updated simulations based on our previous encounter with the aliens,” Kurt continued, in a calmer tone.  “After this meeting, we will go straight into them and spend the next few hours practicing, practicing and practicing.  If there are problems, I would prefer to discover them in the simulator than actual flying.  We will continue simulations even when we’re on the way, apart from one squadron that will maintain a permanent CSP around the flotilla.  The aliens may surprise us at any moment.”

The pilots didn't look happy at the reminder.  Kurt couldn't really blame them.  One squadron wasn't really enough to provide cover for the flotilla, even if the flotilla was armed with rail guns and improved sensor programs that should give the aliens a nasty shock.  Ideally, the other pilots would be able to rush from the simulators to their starfighters within minutes, but even their best timing wasn't ideal.  When they got closer to New Russia, they’d have to abandon the simulators and remain on combat launch alert.

He made a show of glancing at his watch.  “We start simulating in five minutes,” he said, raising his voice.  “Anyone not there when I arrive will be buying the drinks.”

The room emptied, rapidly.  Kurt allowed himself a smile as he saw the reporter’s bemusement.  The pilots might have allowed themselves to chat her up, but not when their wallets were on the line.  Kurt hadn't been joking when he’d told them that any latecomers would be buying the drinks, next time the pilots went on leave.  The costs could easily reach a few hundred pounds.

“You can watch, if you like,” Kurt said, “but do not interrupt.”

The reporter looked up at him.  Up close, she was so emaciated that Kurt seriously considered dragging her to the doctor and asking for a check-up.

“I won’t interrupt,” she assured him.  “But can I ask for an interview later?”

Kurt met her eyes.  There were tiny flecks of gold in them, hidden recording systems that would record everything she saw.  Kurt had seen similar systems used by investment bankers, although their systems were different.  He wondered, absently, just how the reporter found time to review everything she recorded.

“Maybe,” he said.  “But it depends on my schedule.”

Chapter Sixteen

“All ships have reported in, Captain,” Lieutenant Annie Davidson reported.  “They're ready to depart.”

Ted nodded. 
Ark Royal
had been designed as a command ship, but her fleet command systems had been removed long ago.  Refitting the ship with a modern system had taken two days of hard work, which hadn't left much time for practicing operational manoeuvres.  They could still simulate operations, but it wasn't the same.

“Then signal the Admiralty,” he ordered.  “Inform them that we are ready to depart.”

A dull quiver ran through the ship as her drives powered up.  Ted allowed himself a tight smile, then checked the ship’s status display.  Everything seemed to be optimal, although he wasn't entirely confident about how well the newer systems had integrated with the older systems.

“The Admiralty wishes us luck,” Annie said.  “They’ve cleared us to depart.”

“Good,” Ted said.  He looked over at the helmsman.  “Take us out.”

Ark Royal
quivered again as she moved forward, advancing towards the tramline.  Ted watched the other starships fanning out around the carrier – unlike
Ark Royal
, they were nimble even if they did have other problems – and then looked back at the orbital display.  Earth was heavily defended – the various spacefaring powers had managed to rig up orbital platforms to launch starfighters, as well as modifying civilian mass drivers to serve as weapons – but it was impossible to tell just how long the defences would stand against a determined alien attack.  Besides, the aliens could do considerable damage by staying out of range of Earth’s defenders and attacking installations across the solar system.

“Tramline in two hours, forty minutes,” Lieutenant Daniel Lightbridge reported.  “We’re clear of the Earth-Moon defence perimeter.”

Ted nodded, settling back into his command chair.  He wouldn't relax at all, he knew, until they were on their way home.  Three weeks of travel to reach their destination ... a great deal could happen in three weeks.  What if the aliens managed to block their retreat?  Or ... New Russia wasn't the youngest full-fledged colony world in the human sphere, but the tramlines further away from New Russia and Vera Cruz had never been truly explored.  The alien homeworld might be lurking at the far end of one of those tramlines ...

...
Or it might be much further away
, Ted thought, grimly. 
Their improved Puller Drive might give them far more range than we believe possible
.