The Trafalgar Gambit

Chapter Ten

The Academy felt… different to Kurt as he walked through the long corridors, cut into the lunar rock, and made his way to the conference room. Once, it had been a place of fun as well as a place of serious training. The pilots he’d trained beside had worked hard and played harder. Weekends had been spent at Sin City, if they won passes in shooting competitions , where alcohol, gambling and girls had been available in large numbers. It had been hard, but it had also been fun.

Now, fear ran through the air and the students looked harried. Their training courses had already been cut down to the bare minimum, concentrating on flying skills to the exclusion of all else. Kurt knew — he’d been involved with designing the Accelerated Training Courses — just how dangerous it was to allow the students loose after a handful of months of training, yet it seemed worse now. The students looked as though they expected monsters to chase them down the corridor if they stepped on a crack in the floor.

He sighed, inwardly, as he stepped into the compartment. Perhaps it was the sense that it could have been the Academy, rather than Sin City, that had been destroyed. The Royal Navy had other training facilities, but none so extensive and capable. Or perhaps it was the grim awareness that starfighter pilots and carrier crews had borne the brunt of the war so far and couldn’t expect to live long. Kurt and Rose were two of the longest-surviving pilots and they’d only been at war for a year.

“Attention,” the Proctor snapped. The trainees in the room rose to their feet and saluted, poorly. Clearly, training had slipped even further than it had before he’d departed for Operation Nelson. “Commander?”

Kurt took the stand and studied the trainees carefully. They looked so young; the boys looked barely old enough to shave, while the girls barely seemed to be growing into their adult forms. It was his cynicism, he told himself bitterly, but it looked to him as though they were younger than Percy and Penny. Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before Penny was offered a chance to go to the Academy, now the war had reached Earth. Percy’s name was already down for the next intake.

And they were scared. It was clear from the way they held themselves, from the way their eyes twitched and hands clenched when they thought he wasn’t looking. He could hardly blame them for being scared, he knew; he still feared, if only for his family rather than himself. But there was no time to allow fear to master them. They were needed.

“Take your seats and relax,” he ordered, deliberately informal. The trainees obeyed, sinking into their seats with every appearance of relief. “Officially, I am not here.”

He watched as some of the students exchanged glances, then looked back at him. The last time he’d spoken to a batch of recruits, they’d included Prince Henry… not that he’d known it at the time. Was there someone else, equally secretive, in the bunch before him or was he simply being silly. The media had made such a song and dance about Prince Henry’s brave attempt to be a normal person that it was unlikely anyone else could hide for long.

“And I will be blunt,” he continued. He caught the eye of a girl young enough to be his daughter and looked away, keeping his reactions under tight control. “I don’t know what you will have seen or heard on the datanets, or the official news bulletins. The truth is that the war situation has developed not necessarily to our advantage.”

A couple of them recognised the quote, he saw. The others probably thought he was indulging in deliberate understatement. Once, the students would have read histories of war and learned about their chosen field. Now, they had no time for anything, but starfighter training and endless simulations. They no longer had time to study history.

“My ship needs starfighter pilots urgently,” he added. “You are the top-scoring pilots in your grades. If you are interested in joining my ship and entering active service as quickly as possible, you will have the chance to do so now. You will skip the final tests and examinations and go straight to the front lines.”

He took a breath. “This is deadly serious,” he warned. “I won’t tolerate any form of misbehaviour onboard the ship. You’ll be training endlessly with more experienced pilots, both in simulators and out of it, until you are flung into actual combat. And there is a very strong chance you could die within the first few seconds of fighting. You simply don’t have the experience to know what you’re doing.

“Normally, we would never consider this, any more than a father would consider giving his son the keys to the car without making sure he passed the driving test,” he concluded. “If you choose to stay here and complete the training course, you may do so. It will not be counted against you — and it may well be the wise choice. But if you feel that you can handle it, that you’re willing to risk everything to serve your nation now, report to the shuttlebay at 1900hrs. You’ll be picked up there.”

He nodded to the Proctor, who stepped forward. “Dismissed!”

The trainees rose to their feet and headed out of the door, some moving as fast as they could without running, others dragging their feet as if they wanted to stay and speak privately to Kurt. But that wasn’t an option. He strode out of the room and headed to the transit tubes, where he knew he could catch a train to Luna City. Commander Williams had ordered him to take a few hours off, even if he had to wander the city rather than visit a brothel or a gambling hall. He’d spent several minutes devising ways for Rose to accompany him before reluctantly conceding she couldn’t be spared from her duties.

It had been a long time since he’d visited Luna City, the first of the major settlements built on Luna and a politically independent entity. The Moon itself was a patchwork of cities, corporate installations and mining stations, some as independent as Luna City, others belonging to a nation back on Earth. It had often puzzled Kurt why the Royal Navy hadn’t put its training centre closer to Clarke Colony, but there was probably some reason for it that only made sense to bureaucrats. Perhaps they’d wanted the trainees to experience Luna City rather than Clarke or Armstrong.

Or perhaps they weren’t thinking at all, he thought, as he stepped out of the train and though the airlock into the first dome. Someone had scrawled This Place Has No Atmosphere on top of the airlock, he noted with some amusement. It was a droll reminder of just what would happen if the giant dome broke. Bureaucrats rarely bother to consider what they’re doing before it is too late.

Inside, Luna City looked like any small town in Britain or America, save for the giant dome overhead that kept the atmosphere within the settlement. Unlike many of the other installations, most of the city was on the surface, despite the risks. After what had happened to Sin City, he couldn’t help seeing, half of the population seemed intent on moving elsewhere. A number of shops were closed, the digital library was only open for half hours and the bars were the only places that seemed to be operating 24/7. Shaking his head, he stepped into one of them, only to discover it was almost deserted. The only occupants were a number of children in a booth in the far corner, snickering to themselves.

I feel old, Kurt thought, in a moment of self-pity. How long had it been since he’d felt so untouched by the outside universe? And they’re young enough to be my grandkids.

He looked up, sharply, as a man sat down facing him. “Commander Schneider,” he said, simply. “Welcome to Luna City.”

Kurt blinked in surprise. The newcomer had a face so bland it was instantly forgettable, with short brown hair and a wide innocent smile. He wore a simple black tunic, just like almost all of the other adult residents of Luna City, complete with a dangling oxygen mask and emergency air supply. Kurt didn’t recognise him at all.

“Thank you,” he said. He didn’t have it in him to be polite, not now. “Who are you?”

“My name doesn’t matter,” the man said. He waved to the waiter, who walked over to the table. “What can I get you?”

Kurt frowned. He was tempted to order one of the most expensive alcoholic drinks on Luna, but alarm bells were ringing at the back of his mind. Combat instincts were warning him to prepare to fight or flee for his life.

“English Breakfast Tea,” he ordered, instead. “Why are you buying me drinks?”

“Have patience,” the man said. He looked at the waiter. “I’ll have a hot chocolate with vanilla essence and whipped cream on top.”

The waiter nodded and retreated.

“We’ve followed your career with some interest, Commander,” the man said. “You’re quite the hero.”

“You’re a reporter,” Kurt guessed. “I don’t have anything to tell you.”

The man smiled, as if Kurt had said something genuinely funny. “I’m afraid not, Commander,” he said. “But you might be happier with the reporter.”

He leaned back in his chair until the waiter returned, carrying a large mug of hot chocolate and a steaming teapot. Kurt watched the waiter go, then reached for the teapot.

“I’d give it time to settle,” the man advised. “This isn’t Navy-Issue Tea, you know.”

“I’ll call you Fred,” Kurt decided. “You look a Fred.”

The man snorted, then removed something from his uniform belt and placed it on the table. Kurt’s eyes narrowed. A static generator was largely unknown outside the military or intelligence services, at least in Britain. He had no idea if Luna City had any import/export restrictions that covered counter-surveillance technology, but it wasn’t something he would expect the average person to possess.

“You may be interested to know,” ‘Fred’ said, “that we can no longer be overhead or recorded. We exist in a bubble of static.”

Kurt stared at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

Fred shrugged, then reached into his belt again and produced a small terminal. “You may find this recording of some interest,” he said. “Watch.”

Kurt took the terminal and pressed play. A moment later, a pornographic scene appeared in front of him, showing a woman straddling a man and riding him for all she was worth. For a moment, he was puzzled… and then he recognised the woman. It was Rose. And the man underneath her was him.

He half-rose to his feet. “How the hell did you get this?”

“That would be telling,” Fred said. He smiled as Kurt loomed over him. “I would advise you to sit down and pour yourself some tea. Or order something stronger if you wish.”

“Go to hell,” Kurt snapped.

“Sit down,” Fred repeated. He watched as Kurt slowly sank back into his chair. “I trust you recognise the participants in our little version of Starfighter Pilots Gone Wild?”

“Fuck you,” Kurt snarled.

“It seems more like you’ve been fucking her,” Fred pointed out, mildly. He took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Let’s be blunt, shall we? You’ve been having an affair with one of your subordinates — one of your direct subordinates. That will earn you, at the very least, a dishonourable discharge from the Royal Navy. Pretty awful, wouldn’t you say?”

“Get to the point,” Kurt said.

“Pour yourself some tea,” Fred urged.

He smirked, unpleasantly. “That piece of footage is the icing on the cake,” he said. “We have enough evidence of your affair to utterly ruin you. You’d be dishonourably discharged at the very least; Rosy-Posy would also be discharged. And what would that do, I wonder, to your family? Right now, thanks to your wife, you have fuck-all in the way of savings. Your only source of income is your salary from the Royal Navy.”

Kurt glared at him, helplessly. He was right.

“A dishonourable discharge means you wouldn’t be able to claim a pension,” Fred pointed out, clearly enjoying himself. “You might even do prison time, which would probably mean a spell in the most dangerous part of the country right now, picking up debris from the tidal waves. And then… what would happen to your handsome son and pretty daughter?”

“I… I don’t know,” Kurt confessed. He wanted to believe the Captain would continue to protect them, but would that be possible if their father was dishonourably discharged from the Royal Navy? If not… he recalled some of the horror stories and shuddered. He was damned if he was allowing Penny to slip into prostitution, even to feed herself. And Percy… would he be able to follow his dream if his father was booted out of the Navy? “I…”

Fred leaned forward. “Do you understand the position you’re in?”

“Yes,” Kurt grated.

He forced himself to pour a cup of tea, add milk and then take a sip. It tasted fetid. Fred watched him with some amusement, then leaned forward and recovered the terminal. Kurt cursed himself for not pocketing it, even though he rather doubted it was the only copy in their hands… whoever they were. Reporters wouldn’t use blackmail as a source, would they?

“Excellent,” Fred said. He made a show of rubbing his hands together with glee. “You have a choice. You can follow our orders or your little porno show becomes the subject of the nightly news. I imagine that millions of people will download the videos in the first few minutes. Your partner has been quite honoured since Ark Royal’s first return to Earth and… well, do you know how much Playboy offered her for a nude photo-shoot?”

“You’d be sued,” Kurt pointed out, weakly.

“Ah, but you would have to find us first,” Fred countered. “And who are we?”

Kurt said nothing.

“You will be departing on Ark Royal within the week, we believe,” Fred said. “One of us will be accompanying the fleet. You will be given orders and expected to carry them out, whatever the risk. Once you have returned to Earth, all copies of the recordings will be turned over to you and you will be free.”

Kurt gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch Fred, to knock that smug smile off his face, but he knew it would be pointless. Fred could destroy him and his family, just by uploading the footage to the datanet. By the time it was removed, if it ever was, his life would have been ripped apart. He’d be lucky if he was merely kicked out of the Navy…

And there was Rose too. She’d admitted she wanted to stay in the Navy for life, even though she only had a few years of starfighter piloting left. She could become a CAG in her own right or switch to command track and aim for carrier command. An experienced starfighter pilot would make a good carrier commander. But it wouldn’t happen if the recordings were released. She’d lose her career, at the very least. At worst, she’d join him in a detention cell and then a clean-up crew.

He took a breath. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You don’t,” Fred said. “But what I will say is this; you can refuse now and have your career ruined, or you can do one simple job for us and then you will be free, You will have literally nothing else to offer us.”

“I don’t trust you,” Kurt admitted.

“Of course you shouldn’t,” Fred said. He reached into his belt, then produced a card, which he passed to Kurt. “You will receive a message from this account, every so often. When you get it, go straight to the observation blister and wait. You’ll get your orders there.”

He picked up the static generator and dropped it back in his belt, then finished the mug of hot chocolate in one swallow. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Commander,” he concluded. “And I hope your career continues to rise.”

Kurt watched, helplessly, as Fred rose to his feet and walked off, leaving a handful of coins on the table. They were Luna Currency, Kurt saw; usable everywhere and damn-near untraceable. Fred couldn’t have made the point more blatantly if he’d tried. There was no way Kurt could find him and his associates for himself — and, without any way to get at them, he had to do as they said or accept losing everything.

He cursed himself as he finished his tea. If he hadn’t been so convinced they were going to die, he told himself, he would have refused Rose’s advances. He hadn’t been on the outs with Molly at the time… had he? But he’d survived the battle and he’d kept the affair going, despite the ever-increasing risk of being found out. And now disaster had finally fallen.

If he made a full confession, the blackmailers would be caught. Fred had told him that at least one of them would be on the starship. They could set a trap and catch him. But it wouldn’t be enough to save his career, even if Rose was spared. And he wouldn’t be able to support and protect his family if he was discharged from the Navy.

He didn’t have a choice, he knew. He had to do as they ordered.

His terminal bleeped. It was a message from the Commandant, informing him that fifty-two trainee pilots had accepted the offer of an early start to their duties, despite the risk. All of a sudden, it seemed utterly unimportant.

You fucking idiot, he told himself, savagely. What the fuck were you thinking?