Ark Royal

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “It really wasn't,” Penny whined. “I didn't mean to get into a fight…”

  “You told your teacher that she was a right stupid cow,” Kurt growled. The recording of the whole incident had been shocking. “And your headteacher was quite right to say your behaviour was unacceptable.”

  “But she kept changing the rules,” Penny insisted. “I…”

  “Shut up,” Kurt snapped, massaging his temples. It had been a long day even before the call had come from school. “When we get home, we are going to have a proper talk about your conduct.”

  Penny snorted, crossed her arms under her breasts and stared out the window, sulking in a pose that was as old as humanity itself. Kurt glared at her, wondering just when his sweet little daughter had become a monster, then turned his attention back to the road. If his wife hadn't thought that Polly — and her brother Percy — deserved an expensive education, they wouldn't be forced into pointless classes… and he wouldn't have to work such long hours just to keep them in school. He loved his children, really he did, but he wasn't in the mood to put up with an argument.

  She didn't say a word until he finally pulled up outside the house, whereupon she jumped out of the car and flounced inside, no doubt hoping to get her side of the story over to her mother first. Kurt sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment of rest, then opened the door and climbed out of the car. Inside, he could already hear Molly shouting at her daughter. His wife didn't sound pleased at all. She’d yell at Penny… and then, Kurt knew, she’d yell at him. It was funny how his daughter became his sole responsibility whenever she was in trouble.

  Sighing, he walked up the garden path and into the house. Molly stood in the kitchen, her hands on her hips, glaring menacingly at Penny, who was shouting back at her. It struck Kurt, not for the first time, that Penny was very much a younger version of her mother, complete with blonde hair and a powerful pair of lungs. Kurt sighed again, then blinked in surprise as Molly marched over to him and shoved a piece of paper into his hand. It was a printout of a email, he realised, as he unfolded it and read quickly. And it was calling him back to duty.

  “You are grounded for the next two weeks,” Molly snarled at Penny. “Go to your room and stay there!”

  Penny didn't go quietly. Kurt heard her stamping up the stairs, then slamming the door to her bedroom hard enough to shake the house. He ignored it with the ease of long practice as he reread the sheet of paper. The Royal Navy wanted him back in the service, as soon as possible.

  “Well?” Molly demanded. “What’s all this about?”

  Kurt gritted his teeth, again. His head was already pounding and her razor-sharp words were cutting through what remained of his composure. The message didn't leave any room for evasion, he realised dully. He was ordered to report to the nearest naval base at once or face the consequences. And those consequences could be quite serious.

  “They’re calling me back to the flag,” he said, softly. He swallowed, then nodded. “I’ll have to call my boss.”

  “Now see here,” Molly snapped. “I thought you wouldn’t have to go back on active duty…”

  Kurt rubbed his forehead. They’d met when he’d been a starfighter pilot, resplendent in his dark blue uniform. But a starfighter pilot didn’t earn much and, when Penny had been born, he’d resigned from the service and gone into business. The thought of getting back in a cockpit was staggering, but it had been years… he shook his head. There was no room to evade his duty. He’d signed up to the reserves and pocketed the extra cash. In exchange, he had to drop everything when his country called.

  “There isn't a choice,” he said, tiredly. Mentally, he catalogued what he’d need. He kept an overnight bag under the bed; he’d just have to check it, then add anything else he needed before departing. And then he’d have to hire a taxi… he couldn't take the car, not if he was going away for longer than a few hours. “We took the money, remember?”

  Molly’s face darkened, unpleasantly. She obsessed over the children, insisting that they received the best of everything, from food to education. Both of them had genuinely believed that Kurt would never be asked to return to duty, apart from the mandatory week of training and exercises all reservists were expected to undertake. But they’d been wrong.

  “I signed the papers,” Kurt reminded her, before she could explode again. “If I don’t respond to the call, I could be jailed. And then there would be no one to feed the family.”

  Molly sniffed as he turned and walked upstairs, wincing slightly at the sound of loud and obscene music coming from Penny’s room. Molly had spoilt her daughter, he told himself tiredly. There were days when he wondered if they would be called to jail to bail Penny out of trouble. If, of course, they could… it had been his fault too, he knew, but he was hardly ever there. How could he spend quality time with his family while earning enough to keep the kids in school?

  Shaking his head, he walked into the bedroom and picked up his overnight bag. He checked it carefully, then slung it over his shoulder and walked back downstairs. Penny was already there, her face blotchy with tears. Kurt rolled his eyes, not bothering to conceal his reaction. Why the hell was Penny crying? She was probably looking forward to a few days off school.

  “You’d better write to me as soon as possible,” Molly said, sternly. “And this young lady” — she nodded towards Penny — “will be doing plenty of chores around the house.”

  Penny looked rebellious. Kurt reached out and gave her a hug, then turned to face Molly. His wife looked tired, but grimly determined. Kurt silently thanked God that he wouldn't be there to hear the coming argument. Molly would know, even if Penny didn't, just how vital it was that she stayed in the expensive school. If nothing else, they would lose the rest of the year’s payments if Penny was expelled.

  Walking outside, he saw a taxi moving along the street and waved, hastily. The taxi pulled up beside the curve, allowing him to climb inside. He gave the address of the nearest aerospace base — he could report in to any military base, whereupon he would be directed to his muster point — and settled back, feeling his headache slowly fade away. Being away from the children and his wife certainly seemed to make him feel better, no matter how unpleasant it sounded. Just what had he been thinking, he asked himself, when he’d married her?

  You were distracted by her enormous knockers, he thought, ruefully. No, that wasn't entirely fair. Molly had been charming as well as attractive — and she could still be charming, when she wanted to be. But she spent most of her time with the kids while he was at work, which made it harder for them to relax and just be themselves. Maybe the break would do him good… but what the hell was going on? The last time he’d reported for training exercises had been seven months ago. It was way too early for another one.

  There was a bleep from the taxi’s radio as the music cut out, replaced by a nervous-sounding voice. “Please stay tuned for a message from the Prime Minister,” it said. The cabbie swore and changed the channel, but it made no difference. Kurt leaned forward as he realised that the message was going out on all channels. “The Prime Minister will address the nation in ten minutes.”

  Kurt waited, impatiently, for the Prime Minister to begin to speak. Combined with the call-up, it suggested bad news. It suggested war. He didn't make a habit of following international and interplanetary affairs, but he hadn't heard anything that suggested war was on the verge of breaking out. There were bouts of trouble on colony worlds, brief disputes on Earth between smaller nations, yet nothing that should have demanded a full mobilisation…

  The radio bleeped again, then a familiar voice came over the airwaves. Kurt realised, as he listened, that the Prime Minister sounded dreadfully tired. Something was definitely wrong.

  “We have received news from the very edge of settled space,” the Prime Minister said, in a manner that suggested he wasn't quite sure he believed his own words. “A number of human settlements have been attacked by a force of unknown origin. We do not know why these�
�� aliens attacked us, or what they want. All we know is that they are hostile.”

  Kurt felt his blood run cold. Aliens? There had been speculation — and no shortage of movies, books and interactive games — about what might happen when humanity finally met another intelligent race. The aliens might be friendly, they might be so different that communication was next to impossible… or they might be hostile. And yet, there was no logical reason for two interstellar powers to go to war. There was no shortage of resources in space, nothing to fight over. Unless they were so completely repulsed by humanity…

  He shook his head as the Prime Minister kept speaking, declaring a state of emergency and informing the country that every last military reservist was being called up at once. Kurt sighed, knowing just how many problems that would cause. His job wasn't vitally important, but there were Royal Navy reservists working for interstellar transport and colonisation corporations. Calling them all up to the colours would probably cause economic problems for the entire world. But there seemed to be no alternative.

  “Aliens,” the cabbie said, when the Prime Minister had finally finished speaking. “Do you believe it?”

  Kurt hesitated, then nodded. “I think so,” he said, reluctantly. “They wouldn't call up every last reservist if they didn't expect real trouble.”

  The cabbie said nothing else until they pulled up outside East Fortune Aerospace Base. Kurt got out, paid him a sizable tip and then headed towards the gates. A handful of RAF Regiment soldiers were on guard outside, fingering their weapons nervously. Kurt eyed them as he joined the queue of reservists waiting to pass through the gates, realising — again — that this was deadly serious. Inside, he reported in and then waited for orders. They were a long time in coming.

  “Ark Royal?” He said, when the message finally popped up in his terminal. “They’re reactivating the Old Lady?”

  “So it would seem,” the harassed dispatcher said. If Kurt had had any doubts about the seriousness of the situation, they would have been pushed aside by how desperately the military was scrambling to get everyone where they were going. No one seemed to have done any preplanning at all. “There’s a shuttle for Cochrane Yards leaving in an hour; once you're there, you can join the other reservists for pickup.”

  “Understood,” Kurt said. He cursed inwardly, remembering that he had to call his boss — and Molly. Would she be concerned about the prospect of him going to war? “Let me know when the shuttle is boarding.”

  * * *

  Major Charles Parnell cursed out loud as the enemy force appeared out of nowhere, advancing towards the handful of Royal Marines with deadly intent. He’d deployed most of his men forward, leaving him and his officers dangerously exposed — precisely, he realised now, what the exercise designers had intended. He dived for cover, then lifted his rifle and started firing towards the enemy soldiers. They ducked themselves, but kept advancing.

  I screwed this one up, he told himself, as he motioned for his men to fall back. There was no time to recall any of his squads, not in time to make a difference. He’d misread the situation and was about to suffer for it. The post-exercise discussions would be hellish. I…

  His radio buzzed. “ENDEX,” a voice said. “I say again, ENDEX.”

  Charles blinked in surprise. The exercise had barely begun! Why was it being terminated?

  “Understood,” he said, keying his throat mike. “ENDEX acknowledged.”

  He stood up and looked around. Salisbury Plain training area had been carefully designed to allow the various ground forces to practice their trade. The Royal Marines, who were regularly deployed to various colony worlds, made good use of the facilities… but now, the exercise had simply been terminated. He saw his commandos leaving cover and walking back towards the garrison, chatting to friends among the ‘enemy’ force. One way or another, he knew, he would never have a chance to recover from his mistake. It would be a permanent black mark on his record.

  They reached the garrison, where a handful of sergeants were hastily sorting out the various units and pointing them towards their barracks. Charles spoke briefly to his Regimental Sergeant Major, then hastened down the corridor towards the briefing room. It looked as though every exercise had been terminated, all commanding officers gathering to be briefed together. Something was definitely wrong.

  He took a seat in the briefing room and chatted briefly to the other officers, but it rapidly became clear that none of them knew what was going on. The CO entered the room, waved them back into their chairs before they could salute properly, then took his place at the front of the chamber. His face was pale, almost ashen. Had there been a natural disaster, Charles asked himself, or had terrorists struck again? He forced himself to relax. No doubt they would be given the answers soon enough.

  “We have made first contact — and they’re hostile,” the CO said, once the doors had been sealed. “Several planets have been attacked by alien forces.”

  He ran through a brief outline of everything they knew, which wasn't much. Civilians had no idea how long it could take to get a message from the edge of human space to Earth, which meant that the aliens might already have invaded several more worlds. It was quite likely that several worlds along the frontier had no idea of what was going on — and the first warning they’d get would come when alien starships materialised in their skies.

  “All exercises are hereby terminated,” the CO continued, once he had finished outlining the bare bones of the situation. “We will be deploying within the week, ideally, either to places on Earth or Britannia. Marine units will probably be deployed to Royal Navy starships; so far, we have only the bare bones of a deployment plan. I don’t think I have to tell you that all leave is cancelled.”

  There were some chuckles. “Sir,” a wag in the back row said, “would this be a good time to take my sick leave?”

  “Probably,” the CO said, to general amusement. He smiled, then sobered. “We have been prepping for minor deployments, not a full-scale war. It is possible, I suppose, that the whole issue will be settled before too long, once the diplomats get to work. But we have to assume the worst. You and your men will go to war against an immensely powerful enemy with unknown motivations. We don't know who they are and we don't know what they want.”

  “Us, it would seem,” Charles muttered.

  The CO ignored him. “Prepare your men; I want everyone ready for departure within twenty-four hours. Deployment orders will be issued as soon as possible. Once the orders are issued, we will arrange transport on a priority basis. I imagine that the Marines will go first, as the Royal Navy is preparing its carriers for departure.”

  He paused. “Are there any questions?”

  A Colonel stuck up his hand. “Are we going to be engaged in joint operations?”

  “I don’t know, but I assume so,” the CO said. “Scuttlebutt suggests that the Prime Minister is attempting to hammer out the details of a unified command with the other interstellar powers, but it could take months before we have a clear idea of who’s in ultimate command. For the moment, we will operate on the assumption that we will fight under separate national authority.”

  Charles scowled. Collectively, the human race had a formidable number of carriers, starfighters and smaller warships. But that strength would be diluted if they fought separately, rather than as one unified force. Unity of command would be vitally important… but, at the same time, he suspected the Royal Navy would balk at placing its ships under Chinese or Russian command. Or French, for that matter. The old rivalry between Britain and France kept popping up from time to time.

  Not a problem for us, at least, he told himself. Unless British settlements were attacked, it was unlikely the ground forces would see any action. But then, they were prepped for starship deployments…

  “See to your men,” the CO ordered. “Dismissed!

  Four hours later, orders finally arrived. Charles read them, wondering just what the head shed were thinking. Instead of being attached to
a modern carrier, his unity would be deployed to Ark Royal. It looked as though someone expected the carrier to see action.

  Or, he thought silently, that they don’t want us to see action.

  Chapter Four

  “Captain,” Midshipwoman Lopez said, over the intercom, “the latest shuttle is approaching the shuttlebay.”

  Ted nodded. Three days of struggling desperately to prepare Ark Royal for active service had reminded him, again, of just how much paperwork the first commanding officer of any starship had to actually do. Everything had to be carefully detailed and documented, in triplicate, before the ship could leave orbit. In Ark Royal’s case, the modifications the crew had made to keep her functional also had to be carefully noted, just to make life simpler for the bureaucrats. But they’d probably end up with headaches if they tried to follow what his crew had done.

  “Understood,” he said, dropping the terminal on his desk. His office was large, in theory, but several more boxes of spare parts had been stored there for the last few years. “I’m on my way.”

  He looked wistfully at the cabinet containing his selection of alcohol, then angrily dismissed the thought and strode out of the cabinet. It was tempting, so very tempting, to take a glass… but he knew it wouldn't remain at a single glass. He’d take another, and then another, until he was blind drunk. And then the Admiral would relieve him of command, once he found out.

  Two hundred crewmen, mainly borrowed from the Luna Shipyards, had already come aboard Ark Royal since the PM had made his announcement. They’d done wonders for the ship, but it would still be at least two weeks before they could reasonably claim to be ready for any kind of deployment. Ted marched down the corridor, noting where internal nodes had been carefully replaced with modern systems, then reminded himself to skim through the paperwork once the work was completed. They had to make sure that all of the different systems could work together before they took the starship into combat.