Ark Royal Read online

  “It doesn't look like they set out to welcome us,” he agreed. Normally, Royal Marines and naval crewmen hazed one another mercilessly. Ark Royal’s crew clearly hadn't had the time, even if they’d had the inclination, to prepare an unpleasant welcome for the marines. But then, there was a war on. Even the pettiest of naval crewmen would have thought better of continuing the rivalry when they might have to rely on the marines to save their lives. “Get the bags unpacked, then we can inspect the training facilities.”

  He watched his men preparing themselves, feeling a twinge of pride. The Royal Marines prided themselves on being the roughest and toughest British fighting men – a claim that was hotly disputed by other units that considered themselves equally tough – and no marine was ever allowed to wear an armoured combat suit without proving himself on the ground first. Training was harsh, unrelenting and sometimes lethal, but those who emerged from the experience were ready for anything. But they’d never seriously prepared for alien contact.

  The RSM saluted, once the final bags were stowed away. “All present and correct, sir,” he said. “We’re ready for deployment.”

  Charles smiled. “Good,” he said. Royal Marines served as everything from boarding parties to onboard security. If nothing else, they could be sure of doing something new every few days. Just because there was a war on there was no good reason to neglect endless training and exercises. “Let us go prepare for the war.”

  Chapter Five

  “Enemy fighters at three o’clock,” Kurt said.

  “Roger,” Rose answered. “What should I do until then?”

  Kurt rolled his eyes. The joke had been outdated when the military had started experimenting with jet fighters, let alone starfighters in interplanetary space. But it was good to realise that the squadrons were coming together, even if it did mean some cheek and backtalk from his subordinates. He settled back into his chair, then watched as the enemy fighters closed in rapidly on the flight of Spitfires.

  “On my mark, jink and engage,” he ordered, curtly. “I don’t want them anywhere near the carrier.”

  The enemy starfighters looked as if they weren't even bothering to try to hold a formation. A civilian pair of eyes would have thought the pilots were drunk or incompetent, but experienced starfighter pilots knew better. Predicable flight paths meant certain death for the pilots; the enemy were jinking around like mad, even as they approached Ark Royal’s defenders. Long-range shots would almost certainly do nothing more than alarm them – and accomplish that much only if they were not experienced enough to know that the odds of being hit were almost non-existent.

  Spitfires didn't look anything like their famous namesakes from the Battle of Britain. They were spherical craft, bristling with weapons and drive thrusters that could push them in any direction. Spacecraft didn't have to be bound by the laws governing jet aircraft in planetary atmospheres, after all. It was impossible to build a starfighter that also functioned as a jet fighter to engage targets on the ground.

  “Mark,” he ordered. “Now!”

  The starfighters jinked, then opened fire as the enemy came into range. Kurt watched grimly as the enemy concentrated on blowing through the defending formation, instead of trying to hunt them down one by one. It suggested, part of his mind noted, that they were armed with anti-carrier missiles rather than being configured to sweep space clean of hostile starfighters. But they still carried chain guns of their own, ready to take shots at any starfighter that presented itself as a target. Kurt cursed under his breath as two of his pilots died, followed by five enemy fighters. The remainder accelerated towards Ark Royal, forcing the defenders to give chase.

  We’re rusty, he thought, sourly. Two weeks of intensive practice had allowed the pilots to recover their skills, but none of them had worked together before being assigned to Ark Royal. It didn't help that some of the reservists hadn't set foot on a carrier for years, let alone flown a starfighter. If they were being graded, Kurt suspected, the entire unit would have been relieved of duty and probably broken up completely. But instead they might have to face a mysterious alien foe ...

  The enemy starfighters didn't flinch as they flew into the teeth of Ark Royal’s point defence. Instead, they launched missiles towards the carrier, then tried to break free before it was too late, scattering randomly as they fled. Kurt cursed again as four of the missiles struck home, nuclear warheads detonating against the ship’s hull. Moments later, it was all over.

  “End exercise,” he ordered, quietly. Ark Royal was tough, armoured in a way no modern carrier was armoured, but even she couldn't survive four nuclear blasts in quick succession. Even a single direct hit would have been alarming; if nothing else, it would damage the network of sensors and weapons mounted on the ship’s hull. “Return to base; I say again, return to base.”

  He didn't say anything else until they were seated in the briefing compartment with mugs of hot tea in front of them. There was no hard data on just what the enemy could do, he knew, so they’d assumed that they would be facing modern starfighters armed with the latest in drives, weapons and stealth gear. The Spitfires weren't that outdated – the mechanics had been able to refit them with modern sensors – but they had their limitations. And Ark Royal’s limited sensor arrays didn't help.

  “So,” he said, looking around the compartment. “We lost the carrier. I think that counts as a disaster.”

  No one disagreed. Starfighters couldn't hope to return home without a carrier, not with their very limited life support. In theory, they could be picked up by other starships, but no one had ever tried to recover more than a handful of starfighters at once. Kurt made a mental note to recommend that such operations be practiced as soon as possible, although he suspected that the Royal Navy had other problems. Two carriers had been added to the unified defence fleet and dispatched outwards to New Russia, while most of the remainder had been assigned to Earth or Britannia. It would be months before they were ready to start experimenting with new procedures.

  “The Captain will not be pleased, I imagine,” he continued. “What did we do wrong?”

  “Let them get past us,” Rose said, sourly. She’d come very close to being taken out too. “We need another flight of starfighters closer to the carrier.”

  “And what would happen,” another pilot asked, “if the point defence mistakes those craft for enemy fighters?”

  “They end up dead,” Rose pointed out, snidely. “Look; we either run the risk of letting them get within missile range of the carrier or we run the risk of letting our point defence take pot-shots at us.”

  Kurt snorted. He knew the ideal answer from exercises, but exercises always left out the real danger. The Royal Navy’s planners fought constant battles with the bureaucrats and well-meaning politicians over the use of live weapons in exercises, even though such exercises were always more informative than simulated danger. But then, losing a pilot in an exercise would be politically dangerous. It would be used against the Navy by the politicians.

  “We will have to split our forces,” he said, raising his voice. Debates were often interesting and it was important that the pilots learned to speak their minds, but in the end the final responsibility stopped with Kurt himself. Somehow, he doubted the other pilots would be allowed to join him when he faced a court martial if things went wrong. “It will mean additional risk, true, but I see no alternative.”

  He sighed. “We’ll run another set of exercises in two hours,” he added. “Go get some sleep, then assemble back here for pre-flight briefing. Any questions?”

  “Yes,” one of the pilots said. “When can we expect to receive more pilots?”

  Kurt sighed. After the first rush to get pilots and fighters to Ark Royal, the bureaucrats had switched their attention to equipping the unified defence fleet, downgrading the ancient carrier to a lower priority. He couldn't really blame them, he knew, but it was still frustrating when he was responsible for the carrier’s fighters. They could cram another two wing
s of starfighters into the launch bays without real difficulty, hopefully including some torpedo-bombers. Right now, Ark Royal had almost no long-range striking power, apart from the mass drivers.

  “We’ll get them when we get them,” he said, tiredly. Someone had clearly worked out that recalling the naval reservists from interplanetary shipping lines would be economically disastrous. He would have been impressed by this display of common sense on the part of the bureaucrats if it hadn't been so irritating to have to constantly report that the fighter wings were not ready for deployment. “Go get some sleep.”

  He held out a hand as Rose stood up. “Hold on,” he said, as the other pilots cleared the room. “I want a word with you.”

  Rose looked up at him crossly, then sat down again, one hand toying with her short blonde hair. She wasn't unattractive, Kurt knew, but her permanently soured expression made it harder to feel any attraction for her. Not that was a bad thing, he reminded himself hastily. He was a married man. Once the other pilots were gone, he closed the hatch and sat down facing her.

  “You're having personal problems,” he said, silently damning himself for ever agreeing to take the CAG post. He was meant to fly with the pilots as well as discipline them. A normal CAG wouldn't fly at all, except in emergencies. “And they’re affecting your performance.”

  Rose scowled. “That’s none of your bloody business,” she snapped. “With all due respect, sir ...”

  Kurt cut her off. “You’re an excellent flier when you put your mind to it, but you're being distracted,” he said. There was no point in penalising her for her tone. “Either share your problems with me or put them out of your mind, for good.”

  “It's my boyfriend,” Rose said, softly. “He’s ... he’s been deployed with the unified defence force.”

  It took Kurt a moment to put it together. Her file hadn't been too clear on what she’d actually done to be sent to Ark Royal; indeed, the comments had been so elliptical that he hadn't been able to work them out. But if she’d been sleeping with a fellow pilot, perhaps even one in the same squadron ...

  He shook his head. Fraternisation between crewmembers was a dirty little secret within the Royal Navy; it wasn't meant to happen, but everyone knew someone who’d engaged in sexual relationships while on deployment. Sometimes, a commanding officer would turn a blind eye; sometimes, the happy couple would be broken up, normally by having one of them reassigned to a different starship. There was no formal regulations, but informally it depended on just how badly the relationship affected discipline.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and meant it. He’d never had a relationship with another pilot, but he knew just how intense such relationships could become. “But you can't let it affect your duties.”

  Rose sagged. “I know that,” she said, weakly. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Write him v-mails, then forget about it,” Kurt said. He paused, feeling a sudden flush of embarrassment. “Remember that some v-mails may be viewed by security officers now that we’re in a state of war.”

  He smiled at her expression. It hadn't been that long ago that a girlfriend had composed v-mails to her boyfriend in the navy, including videos of her naked and performing sexual acts with a girlfriend. Somehow – Kurt suspected treachery – the videos had been distributed through the naval communications network and then into the planetary datanet. The resulting inquiry hadn't been able to place the blame.

  “I don’t think I have time to be explicit,” Rose said. She gave him a smile that completely transformed her face. “Thank you, sir.”

  Kurt dismissed her, then turned his attention to his terminal. A new v-mail from Molly had popped into the ship’s datanet, allowing him to view it now he was alone. It wasn't even remotely explicit; Molly reported that Penny still wasn't doing too well at school, while Kurt’s boss had warned that he might have to find a replacement if Kurt didn't return to work soon. Technically, it was illegal to sack a reservist who had been called back to the colours, but Kurt understood his boss’s dilemma. He couldn’t afford to pay Kurt’s salary while receiving nothing in return and it might be months or years before government compensation appeared.

  He shook his head, ruefully, as Molly kept outlining the problems with Penny. Their daughter was smart enough to understand just how incompetent her teacher was, according to Molly, which led her to act badly in class. But Kurt knew that there would always be incompetent assholes in the world ... and many of them would be in places of power. Penny was doing herself no favours by challenging her tutor ...

  Shaking his head, he keyed the switch and started to record another message. Maybe another lecture from her father would help. Or maybe she’d just keep rebelling against her parents ...

  ***

  “I have the final set of medical reports,” Midshipwoman Lopez said, once she had stepped into James’s cabin and closed the hatch behind her. “Doctor Hastings requests that you make time to discuss a handful of issues with her.”

  “Understood,” James said, as he took the datapad she offered him and glanced down at it thoughtfully. Regulations stated that every officer and crewman had to undergo a complete physical examination, but putting them off as long as possible was an old Royal Navy tradition. He’d set a good example by reporting for his own exam as soon as the doctor had configured sickbay to her liking, yet he’d still had to chase the other senior officers to force them to put time aside to see the doctor. “Take a seat.”

  He studied the younger woman as she sat down, resting her hands on her lap. Midshipwoman Lopez’s file was curiously empty, without even the codes that might imply that there were details well above his level of access. As far as he could tell, she’d gone through the Academy – she hadn't been part of the honours class, but she’d hardly done badly – and then been assigned to Ark Royal. It made no sense. None of the original crew had been assigned to Ark Royal without screwing up at one point or another. But Midshipwoman Lopez seemed to be the exception.

  Maybe she annoyed someone, he thought. But who could a Midshipwoman annoy who would assign her to Ark Royal? It was true that some Admirals could be hellishly vindictive, but something so blatant would only attract attention – and the old boy’s network had ways to deal with Admirals who abused their positions too much.

  He threw caution to the winds and asked. “Why are you here?”

  “You told me you wanted the reports as soon as possible,” Midshipwoman Lopez said. “I brought them to you ...”

  “Not now,” James said. “Why are you assigned to Ark Royal?”

  “I requested it,” Midshipwoman Lopez said.

  James gaped at her, unable to even try to control his expression. He had requested the assignment to Ark Royal, but he'd assumed that he would be her CO. If that hadn't seemed likely, he would have tried to take a position on one of the more modern carriers. Even if he hadn't been promoted to command, he would have been well-placed to take command later, once his CO moved onwards.

  But someone as hopelessly junior as a midshipwoman? She would always have the shadow of Ark Royal looming over her, reminding her future commanding officers that she would require extensive retraining to serve on a modern starship. Maybe, just maybe, she’d assumed that she would climb the ranks on Ark Royal, but that would still leave her on a starship that should be sent to the breakers. Unless she'd known, somehow, that Ark Royal would be called back to service ...

  He shook his head, dismissing the thought. That was impossible.

  “You requested it,” he repeated. It wasn't uncommon for graduating officers to request postings ... but, unless they were in the top ten places at the Academy, it was rare for a newly-minted officer to receive the post they wanted. But there would be almost no competition for slots on Ark Royal. “Might I ask why?”

  Midshipwomen Lopez hesitated. “My maternal grandfather was the Elected King of Karees,” she said, after a long moment. “The population was one of the more eccentric asteroid civilisations ... un
til one day there was a major life support failure and the entire asteroid had to be evacuated. Ark Royal was the Royal Navy starship that responded to the crisis and took my grandfather and his people onboard.”

  James had to smile, remembering the notation in Ark Royal’s logbook. The engineers had noted, afterwards, that the population seemed to have deliberately sabotaged their own asteroid, although no one had been able to figure out why. Some asteroids held settlements with really strange principles, including a handful who enjoyed taking risks with the life support. The discovery of the Puller Drive had sent thousands of such settlements expanding out of the solar system to places where they could enjoy true privacy.

  “My grandfather ended up becoming a British citizen,” Midshipwomen Lopez added. “He also willed his remaining funds to the preservation trust for Ark Royal. When I graduated, keeping the Old Lady going seemed a worthwhile use of my time.”