Ark Royal 3: The Trafalgar Gambit Read online

  “It doesn't matter,” Kurt said. He smirked, suddenly. The emergency legislation rushed through Parliament would make sure they wouldn't have to continue paying the mortgage now the house was effectively destroyed. “All that matters is that you’re safe.”

  “We ran as soon as the waters fell away,” Penny said. “We didn't know where to go, so we tried to head uphill. The rain came soon afterwards, catching us in the open. There were men all around us and ...”

  She shuddered again. Kurt stared, wondering just what had happened – and wondering if he dared ask. The news from Britain alone was a non-stop liturgy of horror. Law and order had broken down completely in vast swathes of the country, despite martial law and the deployment of armed soldiers. Refugees had been beaten, raped, shot or simply driven away by locals who considered them nothing more than plagues of locusts. Had his daughter been threatened ... or raped? He didn't want to know.

  He shuddered, too. Normally, there would be therapists to help children overcome the horrors of their past. He’d never thought too highly of them even before he'd joined the military, where there was often no time to reflect on previous battles. But now, he would have happily taken Penny to see a psychologist, except there weren't any. The millions of refugees would have to come to terms with their experiences on their own.

  “We ended up here, eventually,” she concluded. “The army took Percy at once, told him that he had to help build dykes. I haven’t seen him since. Gayle ... stayed here with me, but we were told she might have to go to another camp when they move us away from here.”

  “I’ll do something about that,” Kurt promised, although he wasn't sure what he could do. The emergency services were utterly overwhelmed dealing with the crisis. “What happened to your mother?”

  “I don't know,” Penny said. “She wasn't in the house when we had to flee.”

  Kurt cursed Molly under his breath. Where the hell had she been? Why hadn't she been with her children? There should have been enough warning for her to get back home before the missiles started to strike the planet itself. But then, the road, rail and air transport networks would have been shut down as soon as the aliens entered the system. It was possible that she’d tried to make it home and failed.

  And she’d left her children in the hands of a babysitter not much older than themselves.

  “I wish I’d been there,” he said, truthfully. But what could he have done? Beaten his wife to force her to do as he wanted? “What do you do here?”

  “Nothing,” Penny said. She waved a hand listlessly in the air. “There's nothing to do here, apart from sit in the mud. No games, no toys ... I saw a mother slap her daughter when she kept complaining about not having her VR headset. Others kept offering to go build dykes themselves, just to get out of the camp, but the soldiers refused. They said we have to stay here.”

  Kurt understood. The population of Britain had been sharply reduced by the aliens. Young women who could bear children had to be protected at all costs, while men – inherently less vital – could be sent out to labour on the front lines. But it was still unpleasant to think of his daughter being kept in the camp, earmarked to serve as a brood mare if the population didn't recover naturally. He couldn't help wondering if female naval personnel would also be required to serve as mothers, even if they wanted to put their careers first ...

  You’re exaggerating, he told himself. It isn't that bad.

  But it could be, he knew. The population of Britain before the attack had been seventy million, thanks to a steady rate of emigration to Britannia and the other British possessions outside the Solar System. Now ... the most optimistic estimate suggested that ten million civilians had died in the attack, with millions more likely to die in the coming months as sanitation broke down and disease spread widely. Or food supplies ran out, or were murdered by their neighbours, or shot under martial law ... his imagination provided too many possibilities, none of them good. It was his duty to protect his children and he’d failed, miserably.

  There was a sharp knock on the door. “Visiting hours are over,” a harsh voice snapped. “Get your arse in gear and get out of here.”

  “I wish I could take you with me,” Kurt said. A mad scheme crossed his mind – take his daughter back to the spaceport, then ship her to Ark Royal – but he knew it would never work. And it would probably get himself put in front of a court martial board and shot. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”

  “I understand,” Penny said. She was trying to be brave, but he could see just how scared she was underneath. “And please give Percy my love.”

  “I will,” Kurt said. He’d sent Percy a message, but there was no way to know if he’d read it, not now. “But if you see him first, give him my love.”

  He winced at the thought. The planetary datanet had been sharply reduced ever since the attack, something he had thought to be impossible. Once upon a time, there had been nowhere on the planet where someone couldn't log into the datanet and do everything from send v-mails to download VR simulations for their headsets. Now ... Penny’s world had been sharply reduced, until all she knew was inside the wire. She couldn't send a message to her brother, let alone her friends ... if any of them were still alive. He didn't want to know.

  Penny held him for a long moment, then started to cry again. Kurt kissed her forehead, then gently disengaged her from his body and half-carried her towards the door. Outside, the rain was falling harder. The predictions he'd seen, he recalled as he put Penny down, had suggested that it would be weeks before all the vaporised water in the upper atmosphere finally washed its way to the ground. He watched the two girls as they hurried back towards one of the shelters, then turned and walked back through the gates to the ATV. The soldiers saluted as they climbed into the vehicle and left.

  “She offered herself to some thugs,” Rose said. There was a sombre tone in her voice, very unlike her normal demeanour. “They would have raped them both otherwise.”

  It took Kurt a moment to realise she was speaking of Gayle. “I didn't know,” he said, wondering why Penny hadn't told him. But she wouldn't have wanted to talk about it, would she? “I ...”

  He shook his head. “I’m going to request reassignment,” he said, shortly. “I don’t want to go back into interstellar space, not now.”

  Rose frowned. “You may not have a choice,” she said. She sounded understanding, but also concerned. “Kurt ...”

  “I don’t care,” Kurt said. He’d practically deserted his family when the call-up came. Now, there was no one left to look after his children. “My family ... I can't leave my daughter here, not now. I’m damned if I’m going back into space when I can take her somewhere else.”

  He turned and looked out the window as the ATV drove down a road that had once been considered a safe place to learn to drive. Now, it was awash with water, just like the refugee camp. He shook his head, then nodded in grim resolution. Penny was not going to stay there, no matter what he had to do. She was his daughter ...

  ... And he’d failed her enough already.

  Chapter Three

  “The situation is grim,” General Stewart said. His voice was almost emotionless, but there was a strong hint of Lancashire in how he spoke. “We are facing the greatest crisis in British history.”

  Ted listened carefully as the General outlined the situation. The western part of the country had been badly hit by tidal waves, apart from the parts shielded by Ireland, and millions of people had been displaced. It was worse in Ireland, the General noted, but that was no consolation. Food supplies were stretched to the limit, law and order were breaking down and entire regions had slipped out of governmental control. Several cities had been effectively smashed flat.

  “Gloucester and Winchester have been effectively annihilated,” the General droned. He nodded to the map, showing the path the waves had taken as they slammed into Britain. “A number of rivers have broken their banks and may even change course permanently, ensuring we can
no longer even rely on our maps. Farmland has been ruined, farmers have been displaced and the rain is making it hard to coordinate relief efforts.”

  “We cannot expect any help, either,” the Prime Minister said. “The Americans have lost most of their ports along the eastern seaboard, making it harder for them to send emergency food supplies to us. France and Germany escaped the worst of the blows, but have their own problems with the rain.”

  Ted nodded, unsurprised. Any government that prioritised assisting another country’s population over its own would be in deep trouble with the electorate, if it lasted long enough to face a general election. It was quite likely that Britain would be unable to hold an election for several years, at best. The entire country had been thoroughly shaken up and there was no census, no idea how many voters had survived or where they were living. It was a nightmare.

  “The situation isn't much better in space,” the First Space Lord said. “The aliens hit the cloudscoops orbiting Jupiter as well as a number of asteroid-mining and shipbuilding facilities. We’re facing a shortage of HE3 at the very moment we need it desperately to power our fusion reactors. Given enough time, we could rebuild and draw on cloudscoops in the settled star systems, but I don’t think the aliens will give us time.”

  “I can't disagree,” Ted said. The aliens had pounded Earth’s orbital installations badly, crippling the human race’s ability to produce new starships and weapons of war. There were other shipyards outside Sol, he knew, but the aliens might go after them next. “But they didn't follow through their offensive to actually take Earth.”

  He looked down at his hands, thinking hard. In hindsight, Operation Nelson had been easy – too easy. It was clear, now, that a sizable portion of the alien fleet had been tasked with attacking Earth, perhaps even seizing the planet if the defenders had been overwhelmed. He ran through the possible course vectors in his head, trying to decide if Nelson had forced the aliens to attack ahead of time or if it had distracted them from taking Earth. But there was no way to know.

  “The bottom line,” the Prime Minister said, “is that the war is on the verge of being lost.”

  Ted sensed Janelle tensing beside him. He knew how she felt. Defeatism wasn't something the Royal Navy tolerated, not since the dark days before the Troubles. But cold logic suggested the human race was in deep trouble. The aliens had crippled humanity’s ability to make war, while their own industrial base was undamaged. Combined with their frighteningly advanced technology, they had a very definite advantage that would only grow more pronounced as the war raged on.

  Japan, he thought, recalling history lessons. Japan had launched a war – two wars – against the United States, but in neither case had the Japanese been able to prevent the American industrial base from making good America’s losses and then burying the Japanese under a tidal wave of mass production the Japanese had simply been unable to match. Midway wasn't the battle that had doomed Japan for the very simple reason Japan had been doomed by the decision to go to war. And yet ... the Japanese had believed they had no choice.

  And the aliens have more settled worlds than us, he thought, morbidly. Does that give them a larger industrial base?

  “The tactical analysts were very interested in your reports from Target One,” the First Space Lord said. “In particular, they were interested in the suggestion the aliens have more than one political faction.”

  Ted straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir,” he said. “The data does seem to support that conclusion.”

  “They even attempted to open communications with us,” the First Space Lord added. “Do you believe they are potential allies?”

  “Unknown, sir,” Ted said. “We simply don’t have enough data to speculate. They may be a national grouping in their own right or they may be an oppressed minority, hoping we will save them from their enemies. They may be able to assist us or they may be unable to do more than provide us with limited intelligence.”

  “Intelligence is something we need,” the First Space Lord mused. “We have been unable to get anything out of the prisoners, Ted, and our work on their computer systems have produced more questions than answers.”

  Ted nodded. They’d pulled a starchart out of the alien computers that had led Ark Royal and her task force to Target One, but they hadn’t learned anything about alien political factions ... assuming, of course, it wasn't an elaborate trick. Most of the data they’d accessed was meaningless gibberish, he’d been told, something utterly useless without the key to read it.

  The Prime Minister cleared his throat. “It has been decided, however, that opening communications with Alien Faction Two may well be our best chance for survival,” he said, shortly. “Admiral Smith; you and a small task force will be charged with travelling to alien space and attempting to open communications with the aliens.”

  “Yes, Prime Minister,” Ted said.

  He had no illusions. There was no easy way to tell the difference between Faction One and Faction Two, save by watching and waiting to see if the alien ships opened fire. They’d be poking their way through alien space once again, utterly unaware of where they were going or what was waiting for them, hoping and praying to get lucky. It didn't strike him as a suitable military strategy at all.

  But it was also the only one they had.

  He took a breath. “Will we be travelling alone?”

  “Politically, the world is divided,” the Prime Minister said. “It is unlikely anyone will commit any major starships to the new task force. No one has broken ranks openly, at least not yet, but there have been dark rumblings that some nations are considering trying to broker private deals with the aliens. They might prefer to be Churchill rather than Petain, but ...”

  He shrugged, expressively. Ted had no difficulty understanding his meaning. It was better to resist than to be a collaborator, but if resistance was truly futile why not be a collaborator and hope for a chance to regain independence in the future? He wondered, absently, which nation would be the first to jump ship and sell out to the aliens. Japan? The Japanese had been hit by worse tidal waves than the UK. Russia? They’d been tapped out by the war. Or France?

  But the French fought well in both Operation Nelson and the Battle of Earth, he thought, crossly. They’re not going to betray us now.

  “I believe they may assign diplomats to the mission,” the Prime Minister said. “But I don’t expect them to make a full commitment.”

  “They’ll put home defence first,” the First Space Lord rumbled. “It will be hard enough avoiding panic when people realise we sent Ark Royal away again.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ted said.

  “There is a second aspect to your mission,” the Prime Minister said. He nodded towards one of the men Ted didn't recognise. “Doctor Russell?”

  Ted studied the man thoughtfully. He didn't look like a doctor – and, if he was a doctor, why wasn't he out on the streets, helping the wounded? Doctor Russell wore a black suit, somehow managing to look elegant even in the bunker, and had shaved his hair close to his scalp. His eyes were hard and cold.

  “I trust that everyone here is cleared for this information,” Doctor Russell said. His voice was as cold as his eyes. “I shouldn't have to remind you that certain matters are classified well above most security clearances ...”

  “Everyone here is cleared,” the Prime Minister snapped. “And besides, it may not be long before the truth comes out.”

  “Yes, Prime Minister,” Russell said. He nodded to Ted. “As you know, one of the great successes of the Ark Royal’s first long-range mission was to recover a number of samples of alien life from their colony world, both living and dead. The living aliens were transported to a secure facility on Luna where they were examined, while we attempted to communicate with them. In the meantime, the dead aliens were transported to another facility on the edge of the Solar System.”

  Ted felt a chill creeping down his spine. Whatever Doctor Russell was about to say, he suspected, he wasn't going to
like it.

  “Our principle purpose was to crack the alien genetic code and untangle the mysteries of their biology,” Doctor Russell continued. “Our secondary purpose was to develop a biological weapon that could be used against them, if necessary.”

  Janelle gasped. She wasn't the only one. It was clear, Ted realised, that several of the people at the table, the men and women trying to steer Britain through the greatest crisis in British history, hadn't heard anything about the project until now. The Leader of the Opposition looked particularly shocked. Even the First Space Lord looked disgusted.

  “This was not an easy task,” Doctor Russell continued. If their reaction surprised or annoyed him he showed no sign of it. “The alien biology is completely different from anything native to Earth. We might have prayed for a War of the Worlds scenario, where our diseases bring them down, but it is flatly impossible. Our diseases will not infect them under any circumstances. However, we did find something new.”

  The Leader of the Opposition looked revolted. “Are you saying you developed something that will kill them all?”