The Nelson Touch

Chapter Thirty-One

James had barely a second to brace himself before his ship shook violently. Red icons flared up on the display, then the entire display blanked out as power failed throughout entire sections of the starship. Panic gibbered at the corner of his mind for a long terrifying second, before the system rebooted itself as the computer network rerouted around the damaged sections. But the updates from the damaged parts of his ship brought him no relief.

“Major damage,” Anderson’s voice snapped in his head. “They’ve blown right through our armour in sections…”

James barely heard him. “Order the CSP to cover the damaged section,” he ordered, sharply. Did they even have communications with the starfighters any longer? “I want the aliens kept away from the gash in our hull.”

He gritted his teeth as more reports flowed into the bridge. It was sheer luck, he realised, that the aliens hadn’t managed to hit something vital, something that would explode under the impact and set off a chain reaction that would have destroyed the carrier. As it was, she would still have to spend months in the shipyard having her armour replaced and a great many other systems repaired. Or simply modernised, now they no longer had to worry about removing the armoured hull. If, of course, they made it home.

“Captain,” the Admiral said, “this may be just the beginning.”

James almost snarled at him. The aliens had tested a new/old concept and discovered it worked. They’d be back, all right, with the same weapons humanity believed had rendered carriers like the Old Lady obsolete. And the Old Lady would die countless light years from home.

“They may be trying to board us,” the Admiral continued. “They’re going to want to take us by force, if they can.”

“We did it to them,” James said. Turnabout is fair play, part of his mind whispered. But Admiral Smith’s demented plan had been the result of sheer desperation. Were the aliens just as desperate as humanity to put an end to the war? “I understand, sir.”

“I’m warning Shallcross that he might have to assume tactical command,” the Admiral said. “But if we can hold out for a while longer, we might win the first part of the engagement.”

James scowled. They’d given Force One a beating it would never forget, but Force Two was still out there — and completely undamaged. Maybe the aliens would forget their careful plan and just aim Force Two at the remains of Task Force Nelson. Combined, the two alien fleets would soon make mincemeat of the human ships.

He pushed the thought aside. There was no time to worry about it.

“Security alert, all decks,” he ordered. A check of the display revealed that half of the internal security monitors were gone. “And get the starfighters to make a visual check of our hull.”

Senior Crewwoman Nancy Cortland picked herself up from the deck and stared around her, convinced — for a long chilling moment — that she was in hell. A minute ago, or perhaps longer if she’d blacked out, she’d been working in her compartment, helping to maintain the starship’s colossal missile tubes. Now, the main lights were out, the only source of illumination was the dim emergency lights — half of which seemed to have failed — and, in the distance, she could hear the faint hiss of escaping air. Somehow, she managed to stagger over to the emergency supplies and retrieve a mask, which she held in one hand as she walked towards the hatch. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to discover that it was half open.

Outside, the corridors were still dim. A body lay on the deck, staring up at nothing. Nancy checked it quickly and identified the corpse as Derek MacDonald, a loud and somewhat overbearing crewman who seemed to challenge every newcomer until they proved themselves worthy of a place on the Old Lady’s crew. He’d been just as challenging to Nancy until the first battle; in hindsight, she’d learned that he’d been part of the crew when only the dregs of the service were assigned to the ship.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, as she closed his eyes. The sound of escaping air was growing louder, although she still seemed to be able to breathe without problems. “I’m sorry.”

She reached for her communicator as it dawned on her that someone should have tried to contact her and everyone else in the damaged compartment. But there was no one… and no missed messages. Was the entire network down? Or was she just locked out of the system for some reason? There was no way to know. Bracing herself, she rose back to her feet and started to move towards the sound of escaping air. It was her duty to try to seal the leak, then report in to higher authority.

Ahead of her, the corridors suddenly became mangled and melted, as if someone had blasted a pulse of intense heat through the compartment. A dozen bodies lay on the deck, some so badly damaged that she couldn’t identify them; she shuddered as she realised that there might be others who had been completely vaporised. She jumped suddenly as she heard someone moving ahead of her in the darkness, then leaned forward, confident that she was about to meet another survivor. Instead, she found herself looking into the face of an alien.

For a long moment, she refused to believe her eyes. The ship couldn’t have been boarded, could it? But then the alien lifted a weapon and pointed it right between her eyes. Nancy froze, smelling — for the first time — a hint of something fishy, then tried to duck back out of sight. It was too late. There was a flash of bright green light, then nothing but darkness.

“We’ve definitely got unwanted guests,” James muttered. The security reports from a handful of crewmen, several of whom hadn’t reported in since, were impossible to misinterpret. He cursed the timing under his breath. Half of the Royal Marines who should have been onboard were on Target One, no doubt utterly unaware of the fleet’s desperate struggle for survival. “Captain, can you and your men handle them?”

“We believe so,” Captain Greenfield assured him. Technically, he was Royal Marine Reserve, but James hadn’t heard any complaints from Major Parnell about Greenfield and his company of reservists. The Royal Marines worked reservists to the bone just to make sure they were up to scratch when the shit hit the fan. “But you might want to evacuate the boarded sections, just in case.”

“Understood,” James said. He cursed again; deliberately or otherwise, the aliens were holding parts of his ship that desperately needed repair. The only upside was that if the alien starfighters decided to try to pour fire into the gash in the hull, they’d be killing their own people as well as human survivors. “Get rid of them as quickly as possible.”

“Understood,” Greenfield said. “We will handle it.”

Captain Luke Greenfield closed the communications link and looked around at his makeshift command post. No one in their right mind, at least prior to the war, had seriously expected to have to board a starship or counter a boarding party. But that old certainty had fallen apart, just like so many others, when war had finally broken out. Right now, his Marines were all that stood between Ark Royal and enemy hands.

And if they’ve brought a nuke with them, he thought grimly, we’re dead anyway.

He glanced down at his terminal, silently thanking God that the Royal Marine radios weren’t completely dependent on the ship’s datanet serving as an exchange hub. In hindsight, that might have been a serious mistake, one that had ensured they had no real intelligence from inside the compromised area. If there were no more gashes in the hull, he should have the aliens penned up through the establishment of some carefully-positioned checkpoints, but if there were — or the aliens simply used their weapons to burn through the inner hull — the aliens could simply outflank him. He’d already had to detail too many Bootnecks to guard the bridge, CIC, Main Engineering and other vital sections of the ship.

“Open the hatch,” he ordered. “We’ll sweep through the hull from one side to the other.”

As soon as the hatch opened, he released the first set of nanotech drones. The tiny devices, utterly invisible to the naked eye, would sweep for alien intruders, perhaps even kill them if the aliens didn’t have their own countermeasures. They chilled humanity to the bone, not without reason; it was quite likely the aliens felt the same way. He monitored their progress as he led the first platoon of men into the occupied section, watching for any sign of the aliens. But he saw nothing.

“Bodies,” one of his men muttered. “And the air is leaking faster now.”

Luke nodded as he quickly examined the bodies. It looked as though they’d been smashed against the bulkhead, probably when the bomb-pumped lasers had sliced into the Old Lady’s hull. There were no bullet wounds or plasma burns that might have suggested the aliens had killed them. Besides, none of the dead crewmen had drawn their personal weapons.

“They must not have managed to seal the hull,” Luke muttered back. Standard practice for a forced boarding, insofar as it existed, was to burn through the hull, rather than risk using an airlock. Normally, the hull would remain sealed afterwards by the presence of the boarding pods, but the aliens had used bomb-pumped lasers to open the way for them. Chances were that anything they’d done to seal the hull had been insufficient, particularly if the ship’s structural integrity had been weakened. “Keep your armour closed.”

He scowled inwardly as they slipped into the next compartment, then stopped as they saw motion ahead of them. Moments later, four crewmen — two wounded — staggered into view, holding their hands in the air. Luke smiled in relief — at least there was no need to secure the crewmen — and pointed them towards the guarded hatch, then checked the links to the nanotech. It should have picked up the human survivors, but it hadn’t.

“I’ve got an unusually powerful ECM field ahead of us,” one of the techs said, after a long moment. “It’s pervading the hull, sir.”

“So we can’t rely on the nanotech,” Luke muttered. He briefly considered calling the other ships and requesting support, but abandoned the idea after a moment’s contemplation. The United States Marines or the French Foreign Legion were good — he’d trained with them while the fleet was preparing to depart — yet they didn’t know the interior of Ark Royal as well as his men. “See if you can get a list of crewmen with weapons experience, then round them up to reinforce us.”

Something moved ahead of them. This time, a bolt of plasma fire stabbed down towards their position, narrowly missing a Marine’s head. Luke switched his rifle to automatic and fired a long burst down the corridor, then followed it up with a grenade or two. The deck shook as the grenades detonated, then the Marines moved forwards rapidly, trying to get to the aliens before they recovered. But the aliens were clearly dead by the time the humans overran their position.

“Interesting,” Luke said. Their tactics were odd. Were they just trying to delay the Old Lady or did they have something else in mind. “I…”

“Sir, this is Rigby at Five,” a voice snapped. “They’re breaking through the guardpost!”

Luke swore under his breath. The aliens were pushing towards the bridge… but how did they know where it was? Ark Royal wasn’t a modern carrier… he cursed again as he understood just what had happened. The Old Lady was old enough that quite a lot of information about her was available freely. Given a cursory sweep, the aliens could have picked up enough about her from New Russia to plan their missile strikes perfectly. They’d certainly done well enough.

“Move a blocking force into play,” Luke ordered. “We’ll try to take them in the rear.”

Offhand, James couldn’t recall any moment in living history when a Royal Navy starship had been boarded by enemy forces. Hell, the wet navy hadn’t lost a ship to a boarding party since the end of the Age of Sail. But the aliens had managed to set foot on Ark Royal…

“Commander Williams,” he said formally, “you will prepare to assume command of the ship if the bridge is compromised.”

“Yes, sir,” Amelia said. “And the Admiral?”

James hesitated. The CIC wasn’t under threat yet, but the aliens would no doubt start to expand outwards once they’d taken the bridge. It was odd that they didn’t seem to be making a charge towards Main Engineering, yet it was quite possible that the aliens had lost the assault teams that were supposed to take the compartment.

“Will move when the CIC comes under attack,” he said, firmly. “Continue to monitor internal security as long as possible.”

“The last enemy carrier is gone,” Lopez reported. “She was hit by a mass driver projectile.”

Ted smirked, despite the worry, fear and outright rage clawing at his heart. The aliens had been too busy evading his starfighters that they’d forgotten the other threat. Now, with all of Force One’s carriers either destroyed or badly damaged, Force One was falling back in disarray. But they still had intruders on Ark Royal.

And Force Two is still there, he thought, grimly. Still there and no doubt trying to decide what to do.

“Prepare the decoy drones,” he ordered. “I want them ready to launch the moment we are outside their sensor locks.”

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. Sweat was pouring down her face, but she’d never looked more beautiful. Whoever married her, Ted knew, would be a very lucky man. “We should be able to deploy in thirty minutes.”

“Good,” Ted said. “Launch a second set of recon probes towards Force Two. I want to know if they so much as blink.”

Luke felt sweat running down his back as he passed through Guardpost Five, without more than a moment to acknowledge three of his men who’d given their lives for the Old Lady. The Bootnecks were dead, their bodies raped by plasma fire… angrily, he promised their ghosts revenge as he kept moving forward, drawn onwards by the sounds of plasma and automatic weapons fire directly ahead of him.

He paused as the alien position came into view. They weren’t very good, he noted, but perhaps it wasn’t too surprising. Their wars were probably fought below the waters, rather than on the surface; hell, maybe they found the surface world more than a little uncomfortable. He’d read the reports on the alien battlecruiser and, even though it hadn’t been filled with water as some analysts had expected, it’s atmosphere was moist enough to cause real problems for the maintenance crews. The Old Lady’s atmosphere was far drier than anything in Britain, or even on Earth outside a desert.

“Fire,” he ordered.

The aliens barely noticed before the first rounds slammed into their bodies. Two of them spun around desperately and fired back towards the Marines; the remainder died where they stood, caught between two fires. Luke braced himself and ran forward as the sound of shooting faded away, checking the alien bodies one by one. Nothing, he told himself, could survive so many rounds through their most vulnerable sections. Still, he checked them anyway. There were quite a few animals who could soak up a great deal of damage and keep going, even without cybernetic modifications.

“I think we killed them,” one of his men said.

“Leave the bodies,” Luke ordered. They’d have to be removed by the ship’s crewmen, after careful precautions were taken to avoid any biological hazard. The scientists believed that there was no chance of an alien disease moving into a human host, but there was no point in taking chances. “We need to get back to their shuttles.”

He led the way back into the damaged section, keeping a careful eye out for any surviving aliens. But they found nothing until they reached the shuttles themselves, all of which seemed to be completely useless. Their drives and sensors had been reduced to dust by — he assumed — microscopic self-destruct systems. The aliens evidently hadn’t wanted to take the risk of any more of their technology falling into human hands.

“We’ll sweep the section,” he said. In hindsight, the alien attack seemed odd, as if they’d been experimenting rather than committing everything to the raid. There was something about it that didn’t make sense. Had the aliens put it together in a hurry or was there something else they hadn’t seen? “But it appears we got them all.”

“Good,” the Captain said. “But make sure you check everywhere an alien might be hiding, including the outer hull.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke said. He did have some experience, after all. But he couldn’t blame the Captain for worrying. “It will be done.”

There was a click as someone else joined the conversation. “This is the Admiral,” a new voice said. “I want you to check for any other surprises the aliens might have left behind.”

“Understood,” Luke said. He scowled, inwardly. It wasn’t going to be easy. The ship’s interior had been badly mangled by the lasers. Something out of place might well be missed completely. “We’ll start looking now, but we’ll need assistance.”

“I’ll detail crew to assist you,” the Captain said. He sounded grim, but resolved. At least he understood the problem, which was more than Luke expected from some senior officers, and wasn’t bitching about needing to keep his crew to repair the ship. “Inform us the moment you find anything.”

“I’ll launch the alien craft into space,” Luke said. “I don’t think we’ll pull anything useful from them and we don’t have time to take them apart.”

“Do so,” the Admiral said. “And good luck.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“We have lost sensor locks from the remains of Force One,” Lopez reported.

Ted sighed in relief. A careful search of the damaged section of the hull had found nothing, apart from dead bodies and plenty of destroyed systems, but he doubted it could be taken completely for granted. Civilians said the military was anal about making sure that everything was in order, yet it made it easier to spot anything out of place. Now, with the hull torn open and badly compromised, anything could have been left there in the wreckage.

“Deploy decoy drones,” he ordered, taking a long look at Force Two. Given the battering his forces had taken, he had few doubts that Force Two could finish them, if the aliens chose to leave their station and drive straight for the human fleet. But that would open up the risk of the humans managing to evade them and slipping back to the tramline. “And then recall all fighters.”

He looked down at the display as the fighters slowly returned to their motherships, then settled into the landing bays. There were over a hundred new radio sources where the alien starships had been, each one — he assumed — an alien lifepod. If there had been time to pick them up… he shook his head, dismissing the thought. Even if there had been time, it would have been far too dangerous. The aliens might well attempt to resist recovery efforts.

“All fighters have returned to their ships,” Lopez said, after several minutes had passed. “I confirm we lost roughly a third of our fighters.”

Ted cursed under his breath. There were spare fighters in the fleet train’s holds, assuming they managed to link back up with the freighters they’d left in Target One, but there were few spare pilots. The CAG going out to fight might have been against regulations, yet it had been necessary; Ted only wished he had more trained pilots at his disposal. But the Royal Navy hadn’t been able to produce enough pilots in time. He made a mental note to raise the issue once again when they returned to Earth, or to invite crewmen to attempt to qualify on the simulators. It would be better than nothing.

“Understood,” he said. He paused, studying the display. “Prepare the ships for switchover… now.”

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. There was a long silence as she worked her console. “All ships confirm readiness, sir.”

“Good,” Ted said. “Trigger the drones, then take us into darkness.”

He watched, grimly, as the drones moved ahead of the fleet. If they were lucky, alien long-range sensors would mistake the drones for the fleet, allowing the fleet itself to alter course and make a long dog-leg towards the system’s second tramline. And if they weren’t lucky… Ted had few illusions. If the aliens detected them trying to race towards the second tramline, they’d either give chase or set up an ambush back in Target One.

“Drones underway,” Lopez confirmed. “They’re on the planned course.”

Ted nodded, hoping they’d struck the right balance between maintaining their distance from Tramline One without heading too obviously towards Tramline Two. It was logical, he knew, for his fleet to want to take the time for repairs, particularly now that Ark Royal herself was badly damaged. The aliens shouldn’t see anything unusual in that, he hoped. They’d be more interested in waiting for reinforcements themselves before pushing the attack against the fleet home.

“Alter course,” he ordered. “We will proceed towards Tramline Two.”

Grimly, he looked down at the roster of missing or dead crewmen. Over three hundred crewmen were believed to the dead after the attack on Ark Royal, although only seventy bodies had been pulled from the damaged sections and shipped to the shuttlebay for emergency storage. The remainder might have been vaporised, tossed into space by the aliens or simply kidnapped. Ted had his doubts — the sensors hadn’t recorded any alien shuttles leaving Ark Royal after they’d boarded her — but there was no way to be sure until all of the bodies were recovered. Some of them might only be identifiable through DNA testing.

He switched to the list of dead pilots and shook his head, grimly. Over a dozen pilots were dead, including seven of the bomber pilots, a testament to the sheer determination they’d shown in pressing their attacks against the alien fleet. The remainder would have to be reconfigured into brand new squadrons, once again, and then sent out to fight when they broke back into Target One. Ted winced at the thought, but he knew there was no alternative, not when there were over four thousand soldiers on the surface. He was damned if he was leaving them behind.

They might be able to take care of themselves, the treacherous part of his mind whispered.

Sure, a different part of his mind answered. Just like Target One was able to take care of itself.

“Course change complete,” Lopez said, breaking into his thoughts. “There are no signs we’ve been detected, as far as I can tell.”

Ted relaxed, slightly. There were five hours until they crossed the tramline, assuming the aliens didn’t realise what they were doing and move to intercept. Anything could go wrong in that time, from drive failure to an accidental emission that revealed their location to watching passive sensors. He knew he wouldn’t truly relax until they were through the tramline, yet he had absolutely no idea what was waiting for them in the next system. It was quite possible that the aliens had placed another blocking force there.

But that would be spreading their forces too thin, he told himself. If they’d had additional firepower, they should have added it to Force One.

He wished, again, that they knew more about the political and economical geography of alien-held space. There were star systems humanity had claimed that were heavily defended, with dozens of warships on hand to respond to any emergency, and star systems that were so isolated that it would take weeks to get a military squadron in place, if necessary. How quickly could the aliens reinforce the threatened sectors? There was no way to know.

“Keep me informed,” he ordered, as he rose to his feet. “I want to know the moment anything changes.”

“She served for over seventy years without getting as much as a scratch on her hull,” James said, sardonically. “I take command and she gets a hole punched through her armour and boarded, all in the same day.”

“Don’t worry,” Amelia said, dryly. “The blame will be strewn around liberally. If we’re lucky, it will be spread so thinly that no one will notice.”

James smiled weakly, then resumed his path through the damaged part of his ship. The engineers had rigged up sheets of armour to ensure that there was no longer any danger of decompression, but he had no illusions about how long they would stand up to alien weapons, if they returned to the attack. A single plasma bolt would burn through the replacement armour as easily as they burned through modern carriers and frigates.

“We need to move anything explosive out of their firing path,” he said, although he knew it was unlikely they could accomplish anything worth the effort. “They’ll be targeting the gash in the hull next.”

He shuddered at the thought. Plasma bolts weren’t dangerous just because they burned through modern armour, they were dangerous because they destroyed or detonated everything they encountered. Post-battle analysis of the defeat at New Russia had confirmed that the plasma bolts had obliterated starfighter launching bays, missile storage depots and even fusion cores before the carriers had exploded. Even if they didn’t hit something explosive enough to do real damage, they would still burn through countless systems and cause endless damage and disruption. Ark Royal had more internal armour than the rest of the Royal Navy put together, but it wasn’t enough to deflect plasma bolts indefinitely.

“I know,” Amelia said. “And they also took out too many point defence installations.”

James nodded, remembering how the aliens had strafed the hull. He’d wondered if the pilots simply didn’t believe the reports they must have read about his ship’s armour, but instead it had merely been the first part of their plan. Without the point defence, it had been distressingly easy for the alien missiles to burn through his hull and allow the shuttles to land.

He said nothing as they walked further down the corridor, keeping his thoughts to himself. He’d seen the carrier during the frantic struggle to get her battle-worthy once again, but this was worse. Entire sections had been destroyed, or mangled beyond repair; carbon scoring marred even parts of the interior that had otherwise escaped serious damage. In the long run, he knew, they’d have to replace the entire section. There were limits to just how much work Anderson and his crew could do on the run.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Amelia said, as they entered a large compartment. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was in command,” James said, as he took in the bodies lying on the deck. “The responsibility is mine.”

The bodies looked odd under the too-bright light. Most of them were alien — any interesting tech had already been removed — but a handful were human. He vaguely recognised a couple of crewmen from an inspection tour, back when he’d assumed command, yet the others were unrecognisable. One crewwoman’s headless body clutched a small doll in her hand. There was no sign of her missing head. God alone knew what had happened to her.

“Crewwoman Pankhurst,” Amelia identified her. “She came from a sect that believed in carrying those dolls, representatives of their lives. I believe she had to secure a special exemption from the Admiralty before she was allowed to serve.”

James sighed. Exemptions were rare… and almost always caused more trouble than they were worth, as the person who had been granted one had to prove themselves to crewmen suspicious of their right to serve on a Royal Navy starship. There were times when he felt the flowering of strange sects and cults — including a number who had built their own asteroid settlements — was also more trouble than it was worth. But he did have to admit that they provided a place to go for those who felt as if they didn’t belong anywhere else.

“Poor girl,” he said. “And how was her service?”

“Very good,” Amelia said. “There were no complaints about her from her superiors. I believe she was in line for a promotion at the end of the voyage.”

“We can make sure she has a posthumous promotion,” James said, firmly. It wouldn’t help the poor girl any more, but it would ensure her family — if she had a family — received a larger pension. Besides, the Royal Navy was looking at additional benefits for families who lost members to the war. “Until then…”

He looked over at one of the alien bodies. As always, they looked disconcertingly humanoid and yet utterly inhuman. He would have preferred something completely inhuman rather than the faint similarities the two races shared. A faint aroma of rotting fish surrounded the corpse. He couldn’t help wondering why they’d developed so many different skin colours, particularly when they lived under the waters. Surely, bright skin colour would attract predators… or were the aliens actually the top of their planet’s food chain?

Humanity is at the top of ours and yet there are still creatures out there who try to eat isolated humans, he thought. Or are the aliens just unconcerned about the dangers?

“Doctor,” he said, addressing one of the medics. “Is there any biohazard?”

“I do not believe so,” the medic said. “All of the reports agree that the alien biochemistry is completely different to ours. But it would be well to keep the bodies on ice until we get back to Earth.”

James nodded. The last time the Old Lady had carried alien prisoners, every precaution had been taken to ensure that the aliens had no chance to spread germs, deliberately or otherwise, to the human crew. This time, there had been direct contact between humans and aliens, without any form of protection. His crew had enhanced immune systems — it was one of the perks of serving in the Royal Navy — but were they enough to cope with an alien disease? If, indeed, the aliens had something that could spread to human bodies?

“See to it,” he ordered. “And keep monitoring the crew for any problems.”

“There was no large-scale epidemic on New Russia,” Amelia pointed out, softly. “The aliens had plenty of contact with humans there.”

James nodded, reluctantly. Terra Nova had had an epidemic, when several dozen settlers from one of the smaller nations had arrived without going through basic medical checks. It hadn’t been serious, but it had made a great many people very miserable until cures and vaccinations were shipped in from Earth. After that, the various settlements had become a great deal more careful over health checks before permitting immigration.

But Amelia was right. The aliens could have spread all kinds of diseases to New Russia’s population by now, even if they hadn’t intended to do it deliberately. It suggested that his crew would be safe. And yet, how could he take it for granted?

“Move the other bodies to the freezer,” he ordered, shortly. “We’ll hold a proper ceremony for them when we’re finally on the way home.”

And we identify all of the remaining bodies, he added, silently. Some of his crewmen were completely gone, something he suspected would raise all sorts of conspiracy theories. Had the aliens kidnapped them or had the bodies simply been vaporised? People would be arguing the question for years to come.

“Yes, sir,” the medic said.

They turned and walked out of the hatch, encountering Anderson and a team of engineers. The Chief Engineer finished issuing orders, then nodded to his Captain as his team headed down the damaged corridor towards the gash in the hull.

“Captain,” he said. “We were really quite lucky.”

James nodded. One of the missiles the point defence teams had swatted out of existence had been heading directly for the drive section. If it had detonated, the Old Lady would have been stranded, utterly at the mercy of the aliens. Losing one or two fusion cores wouldn’t be disastrous — the designers had been firm believers in multiple redundancy — but losing the entire drive section would have crippled the ship beyond repair. If that had happened, they would have had to fight to the bitter end… or try to surrender. He suspected that fighting would have been the better option.

“I know,” he said. “How quickly can you fix what you can fix?”

“We need to rebuild several parts of the ship’s power grid from scratch,” Anderson said. “Right now, our power grid is badly stressed; if they hit us again like that, we will be forced back on batteries to power large sections of the ship. I think…”

James sighed, but listened carefully. “Do it,” he said, when Anderson had finished. “We’re still deep in enemy territory.”

Kurt ached dreadfully when he stumbled out of his starfighter and staggered into the ready room. Behind him, the other pilots looked just as battered, with some of them glancing around for faces they knew they’d never see again. Kurt stripped off his flight suit as soon as he made it into the compartment, then practically dived into the shower and allowed the water to massage some of the kinks out of his body. Behind him, the younger pilots did the same.

He wondered, briefly, just how they were coping with the attack on the Old Lady. They knew — and if they hadn’t known before, they sure as hell knew it now — just how vulnerable a single starfighter was to enemy attack. But the Old Lady had seemed damn near invincible, certainly when compared to the modern carriers And yet, she’d been attacked and badly damaged. If the aliens had targeted the launching bays, they would have crippled her ability to continue the fight.

Cursing under his breath, heedless of his dignity, he stumbled out of the shower and grabbed for a towel, rubbing down his body until he was relatively dry. There were spare flight suits in the wardrobe, just waiting for pilots who needed to dress again, after a shower. His old one would need to be cleaned before he could wear it again. Behind him, he caught sight of Rose and shook his head when she met his eyes. He was too tired to do anything apart from sleep.

But it couldn’t be allowed.

“Beta and Charlie Squadrons are to use the sleep machines,” he ordered. They weren’t intact squadrons, not any longer, but there was no point in breaking them up. He didn’t have time to plot out a reconfiguration in any case. “Alpha and Gamma are to remain on alert.”

He ignored the groans from the rooks. They didn’t realise that the aliens could return to the offensive at any time, once they realised that the fleet was trying to make its escape. Not that he blamed them, really. The bigger picture was the Admiral’s responsibility. Their task was to fight the aliens and stay alive.

“No arguing, not now,” he snapped, tiredly. He suspected that half of the pilots would fall asleep very quickly, unless they took stimulants. But the stimulants came with a price tag attached. “I know; you all feel rotten and you want to sleep. I don’t blame you. But we need to remain alert for a couple of hours Once Beta and Charlie have had their naps, we’ll get some sleep too.”

He staggered over to a cushy armchair and sat down, trying to look reasonably alert. But he had the feeling it wasn’t working. If the aliens attacked, the task force was in serious trouble…