The Nelson Touch

Chapter Seven

“Impressive sight, isn’t it?”

Ted nodded as Fitzwilliam stepped up behind him and stared out of the observation blister. It was rare to see so many warships gathered in one place, close enough to allow them to be seen with the naked eye. Even now, with running lights shining out in the inky darkness of space, the more distant ships were harder to tell apart from the glowing stars. He resisted the urge to consult the computer, which could have identified the ships for him instantly; instead, he merely watched as shuttles appeared out of the darkness and flew towards the landing bay.

“Very impressive,” he said. “But also very fragile.”

The three American carriers were among the largest in the known universe, he knew. They were easily twice the size of Ark Royal, studded with launching bays, missile tubes and sensor blisters. But, unlike the Old Lady, their armour was terrifyingly thin; they’d never been designed to serve as battleships as well as carriers. The aliens had shown them just how dangerous the design was when they’d destroyed several American carriers at New Russia, along with two British ships.

Behind them, the French and Japanese carriers looked more conventional. The Japanese, in particular, had concentrated on a reliable design they could mass-produce, while the French had cooperated with the Royal Navy in designing their ships and it showed. Indeed, apart from a non-standard weapons configuration, Napoleon could easily have passed for a British modern carrier. But she had the same thin armour as the Japanese ship and her British counterparts. The ablative armour that had been hastily fitted to her hull was untested outside simulations. It was alarmingly possible, Ted knew, that a close-range engagement with the aliens would be a repeat of the Battle of New Russia, with Ark Royal the only survivor.

He closed his eyes in pain for a long moment, then looked past the carriers towards the two American Marine Expeditionary Ships. They were larger than any transports the Royal Marines had produced, although the British Commonwealth had never seriously considered the possibility of having to invade a densely-populated planet. Prior to Vera Cruz, Ted knew, the existence of the giant Marine Expeditionary Ships had provoked amusement and paranoia among the other powers. Were the Americans planning an imperialistic war? But now, Ted knew, they had good reason to be grateful for American paranoia.

Or, he asked himself, did they know the aliens were out there?

It was the old mystery, one that had occupied the minds of both conspiracy theorists and serious thinkers. Over the past thirty years, the major interstellar powers had built up their forces, despite no real threat of a war. Admittedly, there had been a brief dispute between America and China that could have turned into a major shooting war, but it had blown up out of nowhere. Maybe they’d all been a little paranoid after that confrontation… or maybe the governments had known there was an unknown alien race out there, watching humanity. But humanity’s most advanced ships had proven no match for the aliens…

He pushed the thought aside, irritated. There was no point in wasting his time on conspiracy theories. The truth would come out in the end, he was sure, perhaps after everyone involved was safely dead. Besides, it was much more likely that the human race had been preparing for war with other humans. If they’d known about aliens, he suspected, the gentleman’s agreement banning mass drivers would have been quietly ignored.

His communicator buzzed. “Admiral,” Lopez said, “they’re ready for you.”

Ted nodded, then looked over at Fitzwilliam. “Here we go,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get off on a good foot.”

There were no politicians or reporters in the group he’d invited to Ark Royal, so formal greeting ceremonies had been kept to a minimum. No one seemed to have complained as they were escorted through the ship to the main briefing room, even though not everyone had been invited. The only frigate commander to be welcomed onboard was the Chinese officer, who commanded the entire Chinese squadron. There just wasn’t room for the remaining frigate commanders to attend in person.

He ran into Lieutenant Lopez outside the room, who gave his dress uniform a brief once-over, brushed a speck of lint off his jacket and then pronounced it satisfactory. Ted sighed, remembering the days when he’d stood watch on the bridge wearing only uniform trousers and a shirt, then stepped through the hatch. The officers sitting at the table rose to their feet as he entered.

“Please, be seated,” Ted said. He couldn’t help noticing that the officers had sorted themselves out by country, without exchanging more than a few words. That would have to change. “Thank you all for coming.”

He took his seat at the head of the table, then allowed his gaze to move from face to face, matching them to the names in the files. Admiral Stanley Shallcross, Deputy Commander, looked brisk and efficient, his teeth pearly white against his dark skin. Beside him, wearing combat battledress, was Major General Roger Ross, a heavyset man with a reputation for winning against impossible odds. The United States Marine Corps had sent their best and brightest to the fight, Ted knew. They’d practiced forced landings on a planetary surface more than anyone else. And they called Ross the Rhino.

Further down the table, Capitaine de vaisseau Paul-Henri Bellerose and Captain Atsuko looked ill-at-ease to be sitting together, while Captain Wang Lei looked fairly isolated, even though he was their equal in rank. Ted wasn’t too surprised. The Chinese officer was not only an unknown, he commanded a frigate rather than a carrier. But the Chinese reluctance to commit a carrier to the multinational force had been impossible to overcome, no matter what the diplomats said. They didn’t trust the Americans enough to place a carrier anywhere near a fleet the Americans might command.

Ted sighed, inwardly. It would be hard enough fighting the aliens. He didn’t need political warfare as well.

Beside their respective commanders, there were a handful of officers; carrier commanders, flag lieutenants and one Chinese woman wearing an unmarked uniform. Ted guessed she was the political commissioner, although it was equally possible she was the Captain’s assistant or woman. There were plenty of rumours about the freedom granted to Chinese officers by their government, although those freedoms were offered as bribes to keep them loyal, or so Ted had heard. Or maybe they were just exaggerations. The only place he’d visited where the exaggerations hadn’t been anything of the sort was Sin City.

“Gentlemen,” he said, silently relieved that English was still the official tongue for spacefaring operations. Both Americans and British Commonwealth citizens spoke it and, between them, they made almost a third of the population off-world. The children born on interplanetary and interstellar settlements were taught English along with their mother tongue. “Welcome to Task Force Nelson.”

He paused, trying to gauge their reaction, then continued. “Our mission is both simple and very complex. Simple, because the objective is clear enough; complex, because we are going to be diving into unknown space and attempting to occupy or destroy an alien-held star system behind the front lines. If we succeed, we should knock them back on their heels and buy time for humanity to produce more starships and weapons of war.

“If we lose, it could shorten the war.

“You have all read your briefing packets, I assume,” he said. “Do you have any questions before we proceed?”

“Just one,” the French Captain said. “How sure are we of the data pulled from the alien systems?”

Ted looked over at Lieutenant Phipps, who had been assigned to Ark Royal until the task force actually departed. “We are as sure of it as we can be,” Phipps said. “We considered the possibility of misinformation or misinterpretation, but we believe the probability to be very low. What we have managed to check, through gravimetric surveys, has held water.”

“Right,” Ross said. “Do we know anything about the defences on the far end?”

“Nothing,” Ted said. “We may break through their defence walls and emerge in an undefended region of space or we may discover the star system is heavily defended. There is literally no way to check until we actually reach the system.”

He sighed. Basic theory suggested that the aliens wouldn’t have bothered to fortify their inner systems, but one look at the human sphere disproved that theory. The major settled worlds all had their own defences, while a quite staggering amount of firepower had been gathered around Earth. Even if the aliens didn’t have their own national subgroups, it was unlikely that they’d completely ruled out the prospect of an attack on their homeworld, wherever it was. It was presumably shown on the charts they’d pulled from the alien battlecruiser, but there had been nothing to identify it.

“There is a considerable amount of risk associated with this operation,” he admitted. “But all war is risk.”

There was a long pause. “We will not survive this operation,” he added, “unless we work together. From now until the day we leave, we will run simulations and even live fire exercises, testing ourselves against the best we know the aliens can provide — and worse. We will streamline our procedures for issuing orders, carrying out combat manoeuvres and everything else we need to do to act as a single entity. I expect each and every one of you to work together to ensure we survive this operation.

“I have the authority, granted by your countries, to relieve any of you who proves a barrier to working together,” he warned. “And I will not hesitate to use it, because more is riding on this operation than human pride. If we lose this operation, the human race could very easily lose the war and the fate of New Russia will fall on Earth and all of our settled worlds.”

He took a long breath. He did have such authority, but he knew that using it would kick off a political shitstorm. No matter the justice of his actions, someone would complain and the alliance would stagger. As irritating as the thought was, he might have to help cover it up afterwards rather than let it fester and poison the diplomatic agreements reached by the various governments.

“If any of you have a problem with this,” he concluded, “I’m sorry. But there’s no alternative.”

He waited to see if anyone would speak, but heard nothing. “Good,” he said. he keyed a switch, activating the holographic display. A star chart appeared in front of them, human tramlines in green, alien tramlines in red. He couldn’t help noticing that the aliens had several routes they could take into human space that would allow them to outflank most of the defenders, if they chose to take them. “Our ships have been modified to allow us to use the alien tramlines, which will give us a considerable advantage over the old drives.”

It also ensured that there was no hope of rescue, at least until the rest of humanity’s various fleets were outfitted with the new drive, but he kept that thought to himself. They’d probably have thought of it for themselves in any case. None of them were political appointees, if their files were to be believed. They were all experienced officers. It was impossible to imagine they didn’t know the odds stacked against them.

“We will proceed through the seven star systems marked on the chart,” he continued. “Five of them are largely worthless, we believe, but two of them may well be settled by the aliens and thus they will probably have sensor networks watching over them. Ideally, we will avoid all contact with the aliens as we progress through those systems, but it may be impossible to avoid detection. If we are detected, we will have to fight our way through and hope we successfully prevent the aliens from sending a warning. That will not be easy.”

There were nods. Post-battle analysis of Ark Royal’s escape from New Russia had proved that the aliens stationed courier boats, smaller than anything humanity had been able to produce, near the tramlines. It wasn’t quite a method of sending signals faster than light, Ted knew, but it was alarmingly close to one. Given enough time to prepare, the aliens could intercept the human ships as they came through the tramline, launching missiles and starfighters before the humans even realised they were there.

“I would prefer not to make a fighting entry into our target system,” Ted admitted. “If it is unavoidable, we will — of course — launch the operation if we believe it has a valid chance of success. If not… we will try to survey several other alien systems before we retreat back to human space. However, that runs the risk of being trapped again — and I doubt the aliens will allow us to capture a second starship.”

He smiled at the thought. No one in their right mind would have expected a boarding operation in the middle of interstellar war, but he’d been desperate and it had worked. But the aliens wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. In their place, he’d stand-off and batter the human fleet to pieces with long-range fighter strikes. It would make it harder for the mass drivers to score a hit on the alien ships.

“Once we secure the orbitals, we will land troops,” he concluded, looking over at Ross. “Ideally, we should be able to sweep the surface for anything useful as well as set up defences to make it harder for the aliens to push us back out. However, again, if the situation on the ground is too complex, we will retreat rather than push too far into the system.”

“My men know the score,” Ross informed him, gravely. “We can hold the planet’s surface indefinitely.”

Ted had his doubts about it. Everything they knew about the aliens suggested that water was their normal environment, which raised the question of just why they’d started the war in the first place. If they’d lived in the seas and humanity had claimed the land, there was no reason why the two races couldn’t have shared countless uninhabited worlds. But maybe there was some other reason behind the war.

“We anticipate that most of the alien settlements will be below the water,” Ted said. “Do you have a plan to deal with them?”

“I have combat suits designed for underwater operations,” Ross confirmed. “However, I would prefer to avoid underwater engagements if possible. It will depend on the situation we find when we arrive.”

Ted nodded. Ross had a reputation for winning, but he was clearly not as bull-headed as his nickname suggested.

“Good,” he said. He looked around at his subordinates. “Should we be attacked by overwhelming force, we will withdraw. There’s no point in trying to hold the system indefinitely if the aliens have the power to throw us out. And we have no way of knowing how long it will take them to assemble the forces to do it.”

He paused, then tapped the console again. “We start training tomorrow,” he said. “Right now, I want to distribute war stocks so starfighters from one country can land and deploy from carriers belonging to another country. I know this will be a pain for the supply officers” — there were some muted chuckles — “but it will help us ensure that the maximum number of starfighters are kept operational. Once we have all our pilots onboard, we will start exercising in earnest; I don’t want to see any problems when we finally start the operation.

“Frigates will be assigned to both protect our flanks and scout out enemy territory,” he continued. “Drills for frigate commanders will be focused around stealth and combined point defence operations. The boffins believe we can get our datanets to work together; we’d better make damn sure of that before we depart. You’ve all seen how the aliens prefer to launch their attacks, how they like to swarm their targets, and I don’t feel like testing the new armour too closely. I want to make sure that we take down as many alien starfighters as possible before they get into firing range. The modified sensors should help with tracking the stealthy bastards.”

There was a long pause. “I’ll be speaking with each of you individually over the next few days,” Ted concluded. “Until then, I expect you to raise any problems either through the datanet or by calling me directly. I imagine there will be quite a few bumps along the road as we get used to working together. But we must hang together or hang separately.”

He smiled, suddenly. “My cooks have prepared a meal for us,” he added. “I would be honoured if you would join me in the Officer’s Mess.”

The dinner went better than he’d expected, even though there was no alcohol. Most of the officers seemed competent, although there was some friction between the Chinese Captain and his American counterpart. Ted managed to defuse it with some pointed reminders of the shared danger, then found himself chatting to Ross.

“Call me Rhino,” Ross said. “Everyone does.”

Ted had to smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “And how are your men coping with the situation?”

“They’re very excited,” Ross said. He was practically rubbing his hands together with glee. “Do you realise that this is the first opposed landing the Corps has planned for centuries? We can’t wait to see how well our doctrine holds against a real enemy.”

“The naval doctrine didn’t stand up at all,” Ted reminded him. “We lost twelve carriers finding that out the hard way.”

“Only way to learn, sometimes,” Ross said. He looked down at the deck for a long moment, then back up at Ted. “Sometimes, you just have to learn the hard way.”

Chapter Eight

“So,” Rose said. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Kurt looked up at her, naked and lovely under the compartment’s lighting. He’d called her into his office as soon as he arrived on Ark Royal, intending to talk to her, but the sight had spurred him to make love to her instead. She’d been willing… and, afterwards, he felt better than he’d been since leaving Molly and the kids behind. But it still hurt, deep inside.

“I don’t know what’s got into her,” Kurt admitted, finally. “She… just stopped caring about me. Is she having an affair?”

Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Remind me,” she said. “Which of you started fucking someone else first?”

Kurt flushed. “That’s not the same,” he protested. “I…”

“I’d say it was precisely the same,” Rose countered. She leaned down and poked him just above his groin. “You and she, assuming she is having an affair, are both fucking people outside your marriage. Or is strenuous horizontal exercise now an approved form of pilot bonding in the Royal Navy?”

“You know what I mean,” Kurt said. “She could at least have told me!”

Rose met his eyes. “Have you told her about me?”

She saw the answer in his face and pressed onwards. “You are in no position to bitch and moan about your wife opening her legs for someone else,” she said. “I don’t think the law recognises any difference between male infidelity and female infidelity. You could separate, now, and neither of you would be penalised. But you have to think of the kids.”

Kurt stared at her. “When did you become the mature one?”

“When it became clear that you were too obsessed with your own pain to think rationally,” Rose snapped. “But tell me. Do you actually know she’s having an affair?”

“She bought a ton of expensive underwear,” Kurt said. He couldn’t think of any other explanation for her purchases. “Why would she buy that unless she wanted to show off for someone?”

“When I was fifteen, I saved my pocket money for several weeks to buy some lingerie from Edinburgh Stars,” Rose said. “They were intensely fashionable at the time, even if they weren’t very practical. I wore them under my trousers or skirts for months until they fell to pieces and no one, not even my sisters, knew I had them. There was no boyfriend, no one I wanted to impress; I just wanted the feeling of having them.”

Kurt felt his eyes narrow. “Are you saying that Molly wants to just… possess them?”

Rose sighed. “From what you’ve told me,” she said, as she rolled off him and sat upright, “you and Molly didn’t have very much money to spare while you were trapped in civilian life.”

Kurt nodded, impatiently.

“So I imagine Molly got used to spending within strict limits,” Rose continued. “I imagine she knew, too, just how important staying within those limits actually was, as your family could not afford to get into debt. But I would bet good money that she saw the adverts, or spent time browsing the stores, and wanted. And then you suddenly came into a shitload of money from the alien ship.”

She shrugged. “So Molly can suddenly buy all the pretty things she wants,” she added. “I guess she went a little crazy and bought far too much.”

“She did,” Kurt said. “But…”

Rose reached over and poked him again, then stood up. “You need to have a proper conversation with her,” she said. “If she really is having an affair, you can get a legal separation and share custody of the kids, seeing you’re both equally guilty. If not… well, you’d better work out what the hell you actually want from her.”

She strode off into the shower compartment, her naked ass gleaming under the light. Kurt hesitated, wishing he understood his own feelings. Rose was right; whatever Molly was doing, he was having an affair. And yet… he found himself torn between two conflicting feelings. He no longer liked Molly, he thought, but he still cared about her — and he certainly cared about the children. It was all a terrible ghastly mess.

But she started being standoffish long before we came into money, he thought, as he pulled himself to his feet. Maybe she was having an affair even then.

He sighed, remembering what Father O’Brian had told him the night before his wedding day. Marriage was a lifetime commitment, yet with extended lifespans it was harder and harder to hold a marriage together forever. Couples tended to become partners rather than lovers, raising the children while seeking affairs and excitement outside the homes. The Church disapproved, of course, as did many other major religions, but they could do nothing to stop it. For better or worse, society had changed beyond measure since the days the Church commanded and men obeyed.

Bracing himself, he followed Rose into the shower. Hot water ran down her body, washing away all traces of their lovemaking, but he couldn’t help being tantalised by her breasts. Two children and a life working at a desk had allowed Molly to put on weight; Rose was trim, muscular and far more adventurous. He almost reached for her before she caught his eye and shook her head, firmly. Kurt opened his mouth to object, then remembered that they were meant to be greeting the new pilots as they arrived on Ark Royal. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

He showered quickly, then dried himself and pulled on his working uniform. He’d given some thought to meeting the newcomers in his dress blues, but decided that would be just showing off — and besides, the dress uniform was hideously uncomfortable. Stepping out of the shower, he discovered that Rose had already left, probably heading down to the pilot barracks. Fortunately, with so few pilots on the carrier, it was unlikely that anyone would notice where she’d been.

We’ll have to be more careful in future, he thought, as he checked his appearance in the mirror. There will be a full complement of pilots once again — and a new XO looking to make her mark on the ship.

He picked up his terminal, slotted it to his belt, then sighed as he saw the pistol lying beside it. Captain Fitzwilliam had ordered his crewmembers to carry loaded weapons at all times — and to recertify themselves on the firing range if they hadn’t fired a weapon since the Academy. Kurt was torn between considering it paranoia or a wise precaution; the humans had boarded an alien craft, logically the aliens might try to do the same to them. Sighing again, he buckled the weapon to his belt and silently resolved to spend more time in the shooting ranges himself. It would be embarrassing if he was outshot by the new pilots.

Shaking his head, he walked through the hatch and down towards the starboard landing bay. He was just in time to see the first shuttle make its way into the bay and settle down on the deck, followed rapidly by two more. Tradition dictated that all pilots had to arrive on their carriers via shuttle, rather than flying their own Spitfires or Hurricanes to their new assignments. Kurt suspected there was some reason for the tradition, but several hours of searching through the archives had revealed no reason that made sense. The cynical part of his mind wondered if the original reason was still valid.

Rose entered the compartment, followed by the five other Wing Commanders. Kurt turned to them and nodded, fighting down a sudden surge of envy. They would be commanding their squadrons in combat, while he would be trapped in the CIC, watching helplessly as the young men and women under his command risked their lives. It was the best job in the Royal Navy. He silently promised himself that he would take a starfighter out more than once, perhaps allowing each of the Wing Commanders a chance to serve as CAG. It would be good for their careers, if not their desire to stay in a cockpit.

“I’ve shared out the experienced pilots among you,” Kurt informed them, as the final shuttle landed neatly on the deck. “I expect you to train hard until the rooks are up to scratch — and don’t make stupid mistakes.”

“Yes, sir,” Wing Commander Paton said. The others, including Rose, nodded in droll agreement. Rooks — the Royal Navy’s slang for new pilots — made stupid mistakes all the time, even after six months at the Academy. These newcomers had only had three months of intensive training before being deemed qualified pilots. “We’ll ride them hard.”

The airlock dinged, announcing that it was now safe to enter the landing bay. Kurt led the way into the vast compartment, then keyed his terminal. The shuttle hatches opened, revealing a mob of young men and women spilling out onto the deck. Some of them he recognised, others had been in other training courses and he’d never seen them before. Up close, they all looked disturbingly fresh-faced and young. Behind them, there were a handful of older pilots moving at a more sedate pace. They’d seen carriers before and saw no need to stare.

Kurt put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Line up in squadrons,” he snapped. He’d done better than that on his first assignment. “Rooks to the front; older pilots to the rear.”

He concealed his amusement at their expressions. Every single starfighter pilot believed himself — or herself — to be the best starfighter pilot in the galaxy. They didn’t like having their status as newcomers rubbed in their face, any more than Kurt himself had enjoyed it when he was a rook himself. But there was no choice. They had to learn just how little they knew before they actually went into combat.

It should have taken less than a minute for the lines to form. Instead, it took almost five minutes… and it would have been longer if the older pilots hadn’t taken charge and started pushing or pulling the rooks into line. Kurt sighed inwardly, remembering some of the exercises he’d done when he’d been a trainee himself. This bunch wouldn’t have a hope of sorting themselves out by alphabetical order, if the order was given. And they were likely to wind up on charges for failing to salute a superior officer.

“That was disgraceful,” Kurt said, when they were finally assembled in ragged lines. It was a damn good thing, he told himself, that the Royal Marines weren’t around to watch. “Parts of your training might have been cut, but there’s no excuse for not sorting yourselves out.”

He paused. “For those of you who don’t know me,” he continued, “my name is Kurt Schneider, Commander Air Group. My job is to command the starfighters and bombers assigned to the carrier, which includes getting you rooks into shape before we encounter the aliens. Believe me, I don’t care about what sort of hot shit you consider yourself to be — and you can be damn sure that the aliens don’t care either. Pilots far more experienced than you have been blown out of space by the aliens, sometimes before they even knew they were under attack.

“These” — he paused to indicate Rose and the others — “are the Wing Commanders, the officers in command of the squadrons you’ll serve in. Like me, they have all faced the aliens in combat and know their tricks, so I suggest you learn from their experience. They will hammer you into shape, if necessary, to make sure you fit in. And if you have real problems fitting in, you will be relieved and sent back to Earth. We have no time to coddle people here. Do you understand me?”

There was a ragged chorus of assent. Kurt gazed over the pilots, noting how some of them seemed to have quailed under his speech and others looked resentful. The only one who looked almost happy was Charles Augustus. Indeed, the young man looked pleased. Kurt eyed him suspiciously — pilots were known for being great jokers and playing pranks on their superiors was a common trait during peacetime — then put the matter out of his mind. There was much else that needed to be said.

“The older pilots amongst you also have experience, so they will be serving as subordinate commanders,” Kurt continued. “I suggest you learn from their experience too, because it is far easier to learn from someone else’s experience than learning it the hard way. I do not want to hear any quibbles about pilot equality, not now. Experience will serve as the basis of seniority.”

He paused, significantly. In theory, Flight Lieutenants were equals, regardless of experience; in practice, he’d just thrown that convention out of the airlock. But there was no way he was going to abandon the chance to have more experienced pilots assist with the training, no matter their ranks. They needed all the help they could get.

“You may have heard rumours about operational deployments,” Kurt concluded. He’d heard the rumours himself, although nothing had been officially confirmed. But it was pretty obvious that a task force consisting of six full-sized carriers wasn’t going to be patrolling the rear of human space. “This is not a pleasure cruise. Any of you who act like you’re on a luxury liner to Jupiter will regret it.”

He paused, again. “Which leads to one final point,” he added. “I assume you all brought your duffels?”

The rooks raised their bags. Kurt smiled; Royal Navy regulations only allowed pilots one medium-sized bag, which had to carry their clothing as well as anything else they wished to bring with them. His training had included a session on how best to pack their bags, but the rooks had largely missed out on that piece of vital information. He’d bet good money that half of the rooks hadn’t packed their spare uniforms, or stuffed the bags full of chocolate or pornographic materials. Or, rather more worryingly, drugs or electronic simulators. The latter two could get a pilot dishonourably discharged from the service, if he didn’t manage to get himself killed first.

“You should have been provided with a list of what you were expected to bring,” Kurt said, dryly. “If you haven’t brought any of it, you can obtain the missing items from the supply officer — but I’m afraid the costs will be coming out of your salary, as the items in question were supplied by the Royal Navy. I suggest you do that today, as we will be inspecting your possessions tomorrow. Which” — he paused, drawing the moment out as long as possible — “leads to the next point.

“There are items that are firmly on the banned list,” he warned. “You have until the end of today to get rid of them, no questions asked. The list itself is on the datanet. If you are caught with any of them afterwards, you will be fined, docked in rank — which is a little pointless at the moment — assigned to punishment duties or the brig… or dishonourably discharged from the navy. You’ve all done very well to reach so far so quickly. It would be a crying shame if you lost it right now.”

He smiled at their expressions. Whatever happened in Sin City stayed in Sin City — that much was well-known — but it was quite possible to buy items that were legally banned just about everywhere else in the lunar settlement. Pornography wasn’t technically banned, but drugs, simulators and other devices were forbidden. But pilots, always seeking thrills, had probably decided to risk their careers to buy something they shouldn’t. He just hoped they had the sense to get rid of anything incriminating before the inspections began. Someone stupid enough not to do so was probably addicted already.

“That’s the end of my speech,” he said. “Wing Commander Labara?”

Rose stepped forward. “When I call your name,” she said, “assemble behind me.”

She ran through eleven names, three of them belonging to experienced pilots. The rooks, some of them looking noticeably paler than they’d looked when they’d boarded the ship, followed orders, then followed her out of the compartment. Charles Augustus still showed no sign of anything, but pleasure. Kurt narrowed his eyes, watched them go — they hadn’t learned to march in step, clearly — and then turned back as the other Wing Commanders went through the lists. Finally, all of the pilots were assigned to a specific squadron and on their way to the barracks. After the Academy, they’d probably find the barracks something of an improvement.

He made his way back to his office and started to work his way through the reports, waiting to see who would call him first. Brief updates started to blink up on his terminal within moments, informing him that several rooks had forgotten various important items and would have to order them from the supply officer. Kurt rolled his eyes when he saw that, as always, they’d forgotten pieces of their uniforms or even their underwear. How the hell did someone manage to forget navy-issue underpants or bras?

You were that young too, once, he reminded himself. He’d forgotten his uniform jacket, which had cost him a large chunk of his salary. And you had the full six months of intensive training.

Putting the thought aside, he pulled up the planned training schedules and cast his eye down them. There would be a couple of days for his squadrons to get used to their new starfighters, then they would start training with American, Japanese and French pilots. It would be interesting, to say the least. No matter what the Admiral might have said about working together, national rivalry would play a major role in the coming mock battles.

But they won’t be mock when we meet the aliens, he told himself, sharply. By then, we have to learn to work together or die together.