Ark Royal

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  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 The Spitfires weren't that outdated — the mechanics had been able to refit them with modern sensors — but they had their limitations.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 wings 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 a
nd 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… until 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.”

  “I see,” James said. It was odd, but hardly a major problem. “I trust that you enjoy serving on the ship?”

  “It’s quite fascinating,” Midshipwomen Lopez assured him. “We can’t just insert components into the ship’s computers and expect them to work. We often have to rewrite the computer codes or insert bridges between two separate systems that were never intended to work together. Understanding all the different links is tricky, but…”

  She shrugged, her face lighting up. “I dare say I've learned more than anyone outside engineering or computer support,” she added. “And we have kept the Old Lady ready for action.”

  “Or close to it,” James agreed. He looked down at the reports on his desk. It would be another week before Ark Royal was truly ready for deployment — or as close to it as he expected they would ever become — but the crew had done an excellent job. “Thank you for coming. I have no doubt I will have more tasks for you in a few hours.”

  Midshipwomen Lopez rose to her feet. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I’m due in Engineering in twenty minutes.”

  “Go grab a mug of coffee,” James said, absently. He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Was your grandfather the driving force behind the preservation society?”

  “No, just one of them,” Midshipwomen Lopez assured him.

  James smiled as she left the compartment, remembering what he’d been told when he’d first realised that Ark Royal might be reactivated. There was a pressure group dedicated to keeping the Old Lady in service, even if she was just in the reserves. Why not? She was hardly the only starship to merit being kept alive. And besides, with the sudden desperate need for hulls, the Royal Navy might have good cause to be relieved they’d kept her.

  Shaking his head, he picked up the terminal and went back to work.

  Chapter Six

  Ted had to smile when he walked into Briefing Room A, followed closely by Commander Fitzwilliam. The boxes of spare parts had been removed from the compartment and stowed away in disused cabins, allowing his senior officers to take their seats without having to worry about being careful where they sat. Midshipwomen Lopez had even managed to scrounge up some replacement chairs, although they weren't marked with Ark Royal’s crest.

  “Be seated,” he ordered, shortly. “We seem to have met our deadline.”

  His senior crew exchanged nods. They’d worked frantically for over a month to get Ark Royal ready for service, a month during which there had been no further alien contact. Ted had heard that the unified defence command was talking about sending scoutships back to the attacked systems, just to see what was happening there, but as far as he knew nothing had actually come of the proposals. All he could really do was wait to see what happened, just like the civilians on Earth. Thankfully, the panic had slowly faded away as further attacks failed to materialise.

  “We could still do with additional training,” Wing Commander Schneider said. The CAG leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “The fighter wings have a very inconsistent level of practice, I’m afraid.”

  “Keep working on it,” Ted ordered, dryly. He understood Schneider’s problem, but they needed to start thinking about deployment. “We may be asked t
o leave at any moment.”

  “Which leads to an important question,” Farley said. “Where are they?”

  Ted scowled. The aliens had hit their first target over six weeks ago. By now, they should have been reaching Earth… or at least feeling their way into the heart of human space. But instead they seemed to be doing nothing, nothing at all. It made no sense. What sort of mindset would start a war, a war that had come as a complete surprise to its target, and then hold off long enough for the target to get over its shock and mobilise? Even the endless political debate over command and control was drawing to an end.

  He looked up at the holographic starchart, thinking hard. The unified defence command had concluded that New Russia was the next target for the alien invaders. Fortunately, it had a growing industrial base, as well as a deeply nationalistic population that would resist when — if — the aliens tried to land. By now, twelve carriers and over a hundred smaller ships — the largest fleet humanity had ever deployed outside the Sol System — were based there, ready to meet the aliens when they arrived. But so far the aliens hadn't shown their hand.

  “They may not agree with our thoughts on how to fight a war,” Ted observed, finally. Who knew how aliens thought? For all they knew, the aliens hadn't realised they were facing an interstellar power. And yet… surely they would have known from studying the remains of the destroyed colonies. “Or maybe their drive systems are inferior to our own.”

  The starchart shimmered at his command, showing the known gravitational tramlines running between the targeted worlds and New Russia. Unless the alien systems were far inferior to humanity’s systems, they should have been at New Russia within a week, hard on the heels of news of their arrival. It just didn't make sense.

  “Or maybe they think they’ve bit off more than they can chew,” Fitzwilliam offered. “The massed might of humanity is hard to bet against, isn't it?”

  Ted shrugged. Interstellar carriers were an expensive investment, but once the industrial base for building them had been completed the costs tended to fall. There was no reason why the aliens couldn’t have ten carriers for every one of humanity’s — or far more. He gritted his teeth, wishing — yet again — that they knew something about their foe. All they really knew for sure was that the aliens were hostile.