The Nelson Touch

Chapter Eleven

“So you’re ready to depart,” the First Space Lord said.

“More or less,” Ted agreed, trying to project confidence. A week of intensive exercises had managed to get the new pilots into fighting trim, although they were still a little rough around the edges. Ted still dreaded the first encounter with the aliens, knowing that they would slaughter hundreds of his pilots, along with the capital ships if they got too close. “We should be ready to go now.”

He sighed. He’d known there was a great deal of organising in any fleet deployment, but Ark Royal’s cruise to New Russia had been simplicity itself, compared to deploying six carriers, assorted smaller frigates, Marine transports and fifty freighters. Ted was uncomfortably aware that losing more than a handful of the freighters could doom their mission, or leave them helplessly exposed to alien attack. If the aliens realised their weakness and targeted the freighters specifically, Ted would have no choice but to withdraw.

“The politicians are keen for you to depart now,” the First Space Lord said. His image flickered slightly as he spoke. “They keep looking at the latest reports from New Russia and fretting about what’s likely to be coming straight at Earth.”

“Maybe we should launch a spoiling attack,” Ted said.

“It would be right into the teeth of a large enemy fleet,” the First Space Lord reminded him. Ted guessed there had been hundreds of arguments over the last few weeks, discussing the wisdom of each and every plan to launch a counterattack. “And even if it succeeded, it would be very costly.”

“True,” Ted agreed. If the aliens attacked Earth, they would be in for a series of unpleasant surprises. There were thousands of starfighters guarding the planet, along with mass drives, orbital weapons stations and nearly half of humanity’s remaining carriers and frigates. And, the longer the aliens delayed, the stronger the defenders would become. “But letting them pick the time and place of attack is also dangerous.”

The First Space Lord nodded. “I expect you to succeed, Ted,” he said, suddenly. “The human race needs another victory, desperately.”

“I understand,” Ted said. “We won’t let you down.”

“Just consider yourself lucky you don’t have any reporters on your ship,” the First Space Lord reminded him. “At least that’s one hassle you won’t have to handle.”

“I know,” Ted said. He knew the importance of good relations with the media — the PR officers had beaten it into his head more than once — but he preferred to have relations with them at a distance. Having reporters on the flagship was a recipe for trouble, if not outright disaster. “The Americans are welcome to them.”

“They’ll also take all the credit,” the First Space Lord countered. “Not, in the end, that it will matter if we lose the war. The alien historians will probably sneer at how poorly we organised our defence.”

Ted nodded. At least military officers had enough in common that they could work together, despite serving different nations. Politicians seemed torn between supporting the common defence and weakening it, depending on who was assigned to hold command. And then there were the politicians who were more interested in their own advancement than defending the human race. Some of them even saw the unified defence command as a chance to claw even more power for themselves out of their governments.

“Good luck, Ted,” the First Space Lord concluded. “And watch your back. The aliens won’t hesitate to stick a knife in it.”

“Yes, sir,” Ted said. They’d be passing though uncharted and unsurveyed space, space that could play host to alien fleets or defence stations that would be completely undetectable as long as the aliens took a few basic precautions. An alien fleet could pick them up, shadow them and attack from the rear when they were entering the alien star system. “We will be very careful.”

“And some officers might stab your back too,” the First Space Lord added. “You do have political enemies, Ted.”

“Idiots,” Ted muttered. He’d lucked into command, first of the one starship that could actually stand up to the aliens and then of the deep strike fleet. Quite a few officers, in and out of the Royal Navy, were already muttering that he’d been promoted too far, too fast. But then, he’d spent enough time in grade to be automatically promoted to Commodore when the time came, even though he’d spent all his time on one ship. “Don’t they know there’s a war on?”

“And you have the most prestigious command in the navy,” the First Space Lord said. “To glory you steer — if you return, alive.”

He shrugged. “Try not to fuck up too obviously,” he added. “Goodbye.”

The image vanished. Ted let out a sigh, wishing he dared take a drink, then stood and walked towards the hatch. Like the Captain’s Ready Room, the Admiral’s private office was positioned right next to his post, the Combat Information Centre. Outside, he nodded to the pair of Marines on guard duty and stepped through the hatch into the CIC. It had been frantically reconfigured in the wake of Ark Royal’s return to Earth, with a handful of newer systems coexisting oddly with the older systems that made up the bulk of the carrier’s network. Getting everything to work together had been a major chore.

At least we had all the assistance we needed this time, Ted thought, as he stepped up to the holographic display. The last time we did any major refit, we had to bribe civilian contractors to help us.

He studied the display for a long moment. The six carriers were spread out, escorted by their frigates and the ever-present Combat Space Patrol. Behind them, surrounded by two additional squadrons of frigates, were the transports and supply ships. They’d be hidden under the best stealth systems humanity could produce when they left explored space, Ted knew, although he had his doubts about their ability to remain hidden indefinitely. Not for the first time, he cursed the lack of hard intelligence on some alien capabilities. If their stealth systems were staggeringly advanced, what about their sensor networks? They’d have a better idea of what they were looking for than human researchers.

“Contact the fleet,” he ordered, without taking his eyes off the display. “Inform them that we will depart for the tramline in two hours.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Lopez said.

Ted eyed the display for a long moment, then turned and walked to his command chair. The CIC was starting to fill with crewmen, almost all complete newcomers to Ark Royal. Ted couldn’t help thinking that he’d lost something with his promotion, even though he’d had no reason to complain about the newcomers. The sense of trust and camaraderie that had bound Ark Royal’s pre-war crew together had faded with the influx of outsiders.

He keyed a switch. “James,” he said, when Fitzwilliam’s head appeared in the display. “Are we ready for departure?”

“Yes, sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “The fleet is fully at your command.”

Ted nodded. It was hard, so hard, not to pretend he was still the commanding officer of Ark Royal, even after spending more time than he cared to think about on Earth. But she was Fitzwilliam’s ship now, and Fitzwilliam had a new XO to supervise. Ted’s former XO didn’t need him peering over his shoulder while he tried to master his new command. Maybe the months on Earth had been a blessing in disguise. Nothing irritated a Captain more than having an Admiral take matters into his own hands that were rightfully the Captain’s.

“Excellent,” he said. He felt a dull quiver running through the ship as the main drive came online, ready for departure. The damaged components from their desperate running battle had been replaced, even though some of the older systems had been completely irreplaceable. “Then let us hope for a willing foe and sea room.”

It was funny, Kurt decided, as he entered his office and shut the hatch firmly behind him, just how much the carrier had become home. The barracks were far from comfortable, there was very little privacy and he had to keep his affair with Rose under wraps, but it still felt more welcoming than his home on Earth. But maybe it wasn’t surprising. There was a simplicity, a rightness, about the military life that was missing on Earth. As an investment banker, he’d been called upon to compromise his morals more than once. But as CAG, he wasn’t required to lie or cheat to keep his job.

The thought made him grit his teeth, remembering just how much he hated his old job, now he’d tasted being a military officer again. His boss hadn’t been as bad as some — Kurt had heard horror stories about some of the more aggressive bankers out there — but he had insisted that Kurt keep his mouth shut about certain matters. Maybe he’d meant well, when an honest answer would probably have cost Kurt his job, yet it hadn’t felt right. Being in the military was so much simpler than being a civilian.

He winced as he sat down, wondering, once again, what he would do after the war. As a military officer, he’d been given treatments that would keep him fit and relatively healthy for years to come, but he was damned if he wanted to go back to the bank. And yet, he would certainly have to support his children, unless they managed to land high-paying jobs for themselves. Maybe he could find a posting on a civilian interstellar freighter. Former military officers were often headhunted by interstellar corporations, particularly those with experience of operations in deep space. And Rose could come with him, if she didn’t want to stay in the military. It was rare for a starfighter pilot to remain in active service longer than five years…

That may change, he thought, dryly. We all signed up for the duration of war, if war broke out on our watch.

Bracing himself, he pressed his fingertips against the terminal’s sensor and accessed the mailbox. Inside, there were a handful of messages from both Percy and Penny… but nothing at all from Molly. A message from an unknown address revealed itself to be from Gayle, who seemed to be worried about how the kids were coping with the new situation. Kurt cursed his lack of foresight — he could have asked the nanny to keep an eye on Molly for him — then scanned the message quickly. Both of Kurt’s children were worried about how their parents had fought, even though they hadn’t been there. Kurt guessed that Molly had given them her version of the story first.

Carefully, he opened the message from Penny and read it, quickly. His daughter didn’t seem to know what was actually going on, but she did want to see her father again. Percy seemed a little more perceptive, yet even he wasn’t sure what was happening. Kurt nodded in bitter understanding. Children — even teenagers — were often unaware of emotional undercurrents between their parents, even if they knew about such things in the abstract. He wondered, absently, if their school had ever discussed separation with them, then pushed the thought to one side. There was no time to fret over it, not now. The fleet was due to depart in less than an hour.

He sighed, again. They were close enough to Earth to hold a conversation, if Molly had wanted to talk to him. He hesitated, then started to tap in her contact code before stopping himself. The last thing he wanted was another shouting match, not now. But what the hell was she thinking?

You wanted to make sure your kids had the best possible schooling, he thought, coldly. It wasn’t as if he’d disagreed with Molly’s ambitions for her children. But, by doing so, you brought her into contact with people who could spend money like water and never miss it.

He cancelled the call, tiredly. He’d never really felt poor, but then he’d had a good job, beautiful kids and a nice house. He didn’t need fancy clothes, luxury food or long holidays somewhere it was always sunny. But Molly clearly felt otherwise; she’d wanted luxury, even though she’d known she could never have it. Until she could…

Or was she simply separated from me a long time ago? The thought was a bitter one, but it had to be faced. Starfighter pilots rarely married while on active service, like most junior crewmen. Molly had never had to deal with a long enforced separation. Had she discovered, when he’d been called back to war, that she needed someone in her life? Or was his paranoia simply getting the better of him.

“Record V-Mail,” he ordered. There was a chirp from the console as the camera activated, recording the message. “Molly.

“I don’t want to rehash our argument,” he said, carefully. It was funny how he could always find the right words to chew out a pilot, but not to talk to his wife. “But we do need to think about the future. If you have found someone else, I don’t mind; we’re both old enough, I think, to handle a separation. I…”

He hesitated, again. Should he mention Rose?

“I won’t stand in your way if you want a separation,” he said, deciding it would be better not to give Molly more ammunition. “But I do worry about the children. We agreed to raise them together, to bring them up until they became adults, and we must honour that agreement, no matter what we feel about each other. I know, most of the burden in the past year has fallen on you. But I still care deeply about them… and about you.”

But it was a lie, he knew. He knew he should care about Molly, but there was nothing in his heart apart from a cold dead emptiness. They’d been lovers, they’d built a family together, yet the combination of his absences and the prize money had ripped them apart and forced her into the arms of another man. Or was he still being paranoid? Just because he was having an affair didn’t mean that his wife was also having an affair…

“We need to be honest with each other,” he said, slowly. But he wasn’t being honest, was he? “When I return to the solar system, we will sit down somewhere neutral and talk, openly, about the future. I will make arrangements for you to have some of my salary, to help take care of the kids — and even to take care of yourself. All I ask in return is that we talk openly and that we don’t hurt the kids.”

But how could it not hurt the kids? Both Penny and Percy were teenagers, never the most stable of people. They’d both wonder, even if they didn’t admit it, if they were responsible for separating their parents. Maybe Molly, as angry as she’d been with him, had already blamed everything on her husband. Or maybe Gayle had tried to explain parental rows and separations and the kids had picked up completely the wrong idea. Or…

“Take care of them,” he concluded. “And take care of yourself, too. I…”

He wanted to say he loved her. But the words wouldn’t form on his tongue.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said. “Goodbye.”

He ended the recording, reviewed it, then transmitted the message to Earth, where it would enter the planetary datanet. Once it was gone, he recorded messages for both Percy and Penny, telling them to behave and reassuring them that it wasn’t their fault. After a moment, he recorded a message for Gayle too, asking her to keep looking after the kids. Molly was likely to become unbearable for a while — Kurt remembered her raging when she’d been pregnant for the first time — and Gayle, unlike the kids, could simply leave. It would be hard to blame her too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

But there was no way he could change the past, not now. All he could do was try to steer his way through the coming storm… and keep his children safe. That was all that mattered.

“All systems report ready, sir,” the helmsman said.

“Thank you,” James said. He stood on the bridge, looking up at the display. “Take us out.”

Ark Royal quivered slightly as her main drives activated, pushing her forward through the inky darkness of space. James sat down in his command chair and kept an eye on the status display as the starship picked up speed, struggling to keep up with the other five carriers. As large as they were, their lack of armour give them a higher rate of acceleration than Ark Royal could hope to match. But then, the older carrier might move like a wallowing pig, but she could survive blows that would rip the newer carriers apart.

“All systems are working within acceptable parameters,” Alan Anderson said. “I’m surprised.”

“I’m not,” James said. Anderson was hardly a conventional engineer, but there was no one more innovative than him in any space navy. He’d actually managed to splice an alien drive system into humanity’s control systems and get it to work properly. After that, ensuring that human-designed components worked together was child’s play. “You’re brilliant.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anderson said. “Should I get on with installing the chocolate shower in your quarters now?”

James smirked. Beside him, Commander Williams looked shocked. She wasn’t used to Anderson’s brand of humour yet. James had taken some time to get used to it himself.

“Actually, I’d like a Jacuzzi with chocolate pudding,” he said. “And maybe a large waterbed.”

He chuckled, then sat back in his command chair. “Keep an eye on the fusion cores,” he said, after a moment. “I don’t want them deciding to have problems while we’re so far from Earth.”