Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch

by Christopher Nuttal

  “Me too,” Rose admitted. She paused. “Was I as bad as some of these trainees?”

  Kurt shrugged as he led her away from the hall and headed down towards Officer Country, where they slept when they weren't supervising the barracks. “I haven't seen your training records,” he reminded her. “Were you as bad as the idiot who managed to block the toilet and force us to have it fixed? Or the one who decided to play pranks on the occupants of the other barracks? Or the one who ...”

  Rose giggled. “I was just an overachiever,” she said. “But I had six months to straighten out and fly right.”

  “Good for you,” Kurt said. By the time Rose had entered the Academy, he remembered with yet another pang of guilt, he'd already left active service. She wasn't quite young enough to be his daughter, but she was alarmingly close to it. “And you did well with the trainees too.”

  “Thank you,” Rose said. “I don’t think I was quite that hard to handle when I was a trainee.”

  Kurt laughed as he stopped outside the hatch leading into his quarters. “When I was eighteen,” he quoted, “my dad was a moron who knew nothing. But when I was twenty-one ... golly! It was astonishing how smart the old man had become.”

  He sobered as he led her into the chamber. Life in barracks was never easy, but it was often worse for female trainees. There was almost no privacy at all, while the shared washing facilities took some getting used to. Indeed, a quarter of the trainees who had been evicted in the first week had been booted out for ogling their female comrades. It was a regular shock to politicians, when they found out that men and women were living together, but there was no choice. Quarters on starships, even the mighty fleet carriers, were no larger. Rose had done well in helping new trainees to grow used to their surroundings. By now, most of the trainees were thoroughly professional.

  It’s that stupid movie’s fault, he thought, rolling his eyes. They just couldn't make a realistic movie, could they? No, the main character had to have muscles on his muscles ... and his female co-lead had to wear a uniform so tight she couldn't breathe.

  His terminal bleeped as he sat down, so he pulled it over as Rose poured them both a glass of wine. He’d expected a message from his daughter – she was actually doing better in school, now they’d hired a nanny – but instead it was his orders. He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to read them, then cursed his own stupidity as he opened the file and read through the brief message.

  “I’m being sent back to Ark Royal as Commander Air Group,” he said, relieved. Requesting a change of assignment was always hazardous, even though he was one of the few officers with experience at fighting the aliens. The Royal Navy had plenty of places to send officers who had displeased the bureaucracy in some way. “And just as CAG this time.”

  “So you won’t be flying,” Rose said, regretfully. “I always thought it kept you closer to us.”

  “I’ll try and sneak in as many hours as I can,” Kurt said. The pace of combat was often shockingly swift. It was quite possible that the CAG would be reduced to a spectator while his pilots fought and died to protect their starship. “There will be new fighters too, it seems. And bombers.”

  “Curious,” Rose said. “Do you think that means they’ve improved the torpedo systems?”

  Kurt shrugged. The pre-war bombers hadn't been designed to face alien plasma weaponry and the one attempt to test pre-war doctrine against the aliens had resulted in a horrific failure. Their torpedoes were simply not capable of breaking through enemy point defence systems, even if they fired a massive salvo. But now, if the system had been improved ...

  “We’ll find out, I guess,” he said, reviewing the message again. “I’ve got two days of leave on Earth, then I have orders to report to Ark Royal prior to the arrival of new pilots. And apparently I’m expected to brush up on international relations too.”

  Rose gave him a puzzled look. “International relations?”

  “That's what it says,” Kurt said, swinging the terminal round so she could see the message. “But not much else.”

  “They probably want us to go into battle with allies,” Rose suggested, after a moment. “The Royal Navy can't bear the brunt of offensive operations on its own.”

  Kurt nodded, sourly. The loss of two modern carriers at New Russia had cost the Royal Navy dearly. Given that it took at least three years to build a modern carrier – and longer, if they wanted to add heavy armour – those ships would not be replaced any time soon. If humanity wanted to go on the offensive, it would have to be a joint operation.

  He took a sip of his wine. “And your own orders?”

  “Probably waiting for me,” Rose said. “I’ll look at them later, afterwards.”

  She put the glass down and leaned forward to kiss his lips. Kurt hesitated, tasting the wine on her lips, then kissed her back. Part of him cursed himself angrily – what had started as a fling before certain death had become something more – while the rest of him urged that he move forward as fast as possible. His hand reached up to feel her breast, straining against her uniform. Slowly, he undid the zippers, allowing them to spring free ...

  Afterwards, when she had showered and left, he felt torn in two. He felt deeply for her, yet he also felt deeply for his children. How could he hurt them by having an affair? At best, there would be a divorce; at worst, a long bitter court case. And he might well lose his career in the crossfire.

  You’re a fucking idiot, he told himself, as he scrambled to his feet and headed towards the shower. You should never have gotten involved with her.

  But now, he knew, he could never bring himself to break it up.

  A moment later, his terminal bleeped. It was a message from Rose, informing him that she had been assigned back to Ark Royal too. Kurt stared at it with mixed emotions, then turned and stepped into the shower. Perhaps cold water would make him feel better.

  “Yep,” he muttered out loud. “Definitely a fucking idiot.”

  Chapter Four

  “I couldn't help noticing,” Ted said, as he stepped into the First Space Lord’s groundside office, “that London seems to be darker these days.”

  The First Space Lord nodded as they shook hands, then waved Ted and Fitzwilliam to chairs facing his desk. “Between the war and the government’s emigration policy,” he said, “the city has lost quite a bit of its population. People are thinking that they might be safer well away from large cities.”

  Ted nodded. The government, which owned the entire Britannia System, had been offering very generous settlement grants to prospective emigrants. If they chose to take the government’s offer, they would be assigned land on Britannia to develop how they chose or a homestead among the asteroid belts. The policy, he knew, had helped swell the new colony world’s population remarkably. In the long run, the projections suggested, Britannia would expand rapidly. The planet’s birthrate was already considerably higher than its founding country’s birthrate.

  Probably end up with another revolution on our hands, he thought, cynically. Britannia already had representation in the Houses of Parliament – there was no point in repeating the mistakes that helped start the American Revolution – but some of its settlers wanted more autonomy. But they already had more than anywhere else in Britain, being so isolated from the mainstream.

  He pushed the thought aside as the First Space Lord placed his fingertips together. “You’ll be pleased to know that we have a rough idea of Task Force Nelson’s size and composition,” he said. “Apart from Ark Royal herself, the Royal Navy will be providing two modified bulk freighters that will serve as escort carriers. Each one can carry and support a squadron of starfighters, giving you some additional punch. There will also be nine frigates that will provide an escort for the fleet.

  “In addition, the Americans have volunteered three carriers, while the French and Japanese are providing one apiece. The Americans will also be providing the lion’s share of the ground combat element. This means, I'm afraid, that they’ve demanded the r
ight to nominate both your deputy and the ground combat commander. Under the circumstances, we can’t really argue.”

  “They’re providing three carriers,” Ted mused. “I’m surprised they didn't demand overall command as well.”

  “Luckily for us, you’re a hero in America,” the First Space Lord said, dryly. “And both the Chinese and Japanese refused to serve under American command. I doubt the French were too enthusiastic about serving under our command, but they’re bringing only one carrier to the party.”

  Ted wasn't surprised. While Britannia and Washington were on the other side of Earth from New Russia, New France and Edo were both closer to the front lines. Cutting loose a carrier apiece had to have worried their defence planners, even if they did want to make the joint defence of humanity’s space work. Battles had been won or lost before, based on the presence or absence of a single ship.

  “So we’ll have six carriers,” Ted mused.

  “The Americans and Chinese are both sending twelve frigates,” the First Space Lord added. “In addition, there will be a large transport element for the ground troops and the fleet train. You should be capable of sustaining your operations for close to a year before returning to human space.”

  “Assuming there’s any human space left to return to,” Ted said, darkly. “Where do we stand on new weapons and starships?”

  “We’ve finally managed to get a design worked out for a battleship,” the First Space Lord said, “one armed to the teeth with mass drivers and missile tubes. But we’re looking at around two years before the first one can enter service. By then, we should have standardized technology throughout human space, allowing our ships and components to become interchangeable. As for modified carriers ...”

  He shrugged. “Building another Ark Royal seems a waste of time,” he added. “But we have a plan for a carrier that combines the best of Ark with the modern designs. Still, we’re looking at two to three years before we have a working model. We’re sheathing the modern carriers in armour in the hopes of providing some additional protection.”

  “That will be interesting to watch,” Ted mused. “How well does it work?”

  “It should give them some protection,” the First Space Lord said. “But it hasn't really been tested in combat.”

  “Nor were the modern carriers,” Ted pointed out. The designs had looked good, on paper, and he had to admit that they were faster and more capable than Ark Royal. But their lack of armour had doomed them when the aliens had attacked. “And starfighters?”

  “We’re finalising a unified starfighter class for humanity’s starships,” the First Space Lord informed him. “The best of British, American and Japanese technology, combined with everything we’ve learned about our enemies in months of war. Ideally, we should be able to operate from other carriers and vice versa once the starfighters enter service.”

  Ted nodded. Some components and supplies from different nations were compatible, but others couldn't be forced to work together for love or money. An American carrier might not be able to handle British starfighters and vice versa. If that problem could be fixed, the number of deployable carriers would rise rather sharply. He made a mental note to ensure that supplies were passed around, particularly French or Japanese supplies. It wouldn't do to lose the starfighters if they lost the carriers.

  “The good news is that we finally have a working plasma system of our own,” the First Space Lord added. “But you can read about that in your briefing notes.”

  “I hope it doesn't have the same problems as the alien systems,” Ted said. Fitzwilliam had already briefed him on the new systems – and their limitations. “We used EMP to disable them, once upon a time.”

  “It does,” the First Space Lord confirmed grimly. “We won’t be switching completely to plasma weapons, even if we could afford it. We’ll be keeping both old and new systems for quite some time.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I have every faith in you, Admiral Smith, to handle the international aspects of the mission without problems,” he said. “We cannot afford to lose this war.”

  Ted couldn't disagree. The one conflict humanity had engaged in after the discovery of the tramlines had been brief, with nothing more than a few shots fired before the diplomats had sorted out a peace treaty. Now, humanity faced a foe with unknown motives, but the evidence suggested that – at best – the aliens intended to deny space to the human race. And, at worst, they might have extermination in mind.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. He, Fitzwilliam and Lieutenant Lopez had gone over the intelligence summaries with a very critical eye. They hadn't been able to find anything that disproved the suggestion that the multi-tramline nexus would be important to the aliens. But there was a difference between knowing the base was there and being able to reach it. “We won’t let you down.”

  He wondered, suddenly, just how many doubts the First Space Lord had about him personally. There was no denying that he’d been a drunkard, or that he still felt the urge to take a drink from time to time. Medical treatment had helped with that, of course, removing the addiction that had driven him forwards – and so had the fact he’d found something useful to do with his life. But there was a vast difference between commanding an old carrier and a fleet of six carriers, only one of them British. How tempted had the Admiralty been, he asked himself, to suggest to the Americans that there would be no resistance if they demanded command of the operation?

  “I'm glad to hear it,” the First Space Lord said. He paused, then leaned forward. “There are, however, political issues involved. Local political issues.”

  Ted exchanged glances with Fitzwilliam, who looked blank. On one hand, this war had few political issues; the aliens weren't inclined to talk, so it was kill or be killed. But, on the other hand, support for the war depended on local politics, both in Britain and all over the world. If the general population believed the war was lost ...

  The First Space Lord smiled, humourlessly. “Have you been following the debate in the online forums?”

  “No,” Ted said. Earth’s datanet didn't even reach to the moon, let alone Ark Royal’s current anchorage. Even when he'd been on Earth, he’d had no time to browse the forums. “What sort of debate?”

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “The one about Prince Henry?

  “Indeed,” the First Space Lord said.

  He met Ted’s eyes. “Prince Henry has ... for want of a better word ... pushed his way into the accelerated starfighter training program,” he said. “It was always his ambition to become a starfighter pilot, continuing the proud tradition of the younger scions of the Royal Family serving in the military. However, when it was agreed that he could attend the Academy, there wasn't actually a war on.”

  Ted blinked in surprise. “We didn't start running the accelerated training program until after the war had started,” he said. “How ...?”

  “There were ... political issues,” the First Space Lord conceded. He spread out his hands, grimly. “Put bluntly, Admiral, there is a strong feeling among the general public that the Royal Family should take part in the war. At the same time, with the position of the Prince ... uncertain, quite a few officers were resistant to placing him in actual danger. In the end, he effectively forced Buckingham Palace to give him a chance to train under an assumed name.”

  Ted had spent far too much of his career on Ark Royal, but he knew something of the tangled politics surrounding the Prince. Prince Henry was the firstborn son of King Charles IV, but he wasn't the firstborn child. Technically, being born male jumped him ahead of his sister in the line of succession. The law was ancient, but it had never actually been taken off the books. Traditionalists insisted that Prince Henry was the first in line to the throne. On the other hand, it was the 23rd Century. Why should the Prince succeed his father when he was not the firstborn child?

  “What a mess,” he said. “How did he force the Palace to concede the point?”

  “He threatened to publically abdicate
his position,” the First Space Lord said. “I do not believe he enjoyed a very happy childhood.”

  “No,” Fitzwilliam agreed. “He would have no privacy at all, would he?”

  “There have been scandals,” the First Space Lord agreed. “Nothing major, nothing we would hold against anyone else, but in his position ... well, it makes the monarchy look bad.”

  Ted frowned. “As interesting as this is,” he said, “what does it actually have to do with us?”

  The First Space Lord looked embarrassed. “The Prince has managed to get himself assigned to Ark Royal,” he explained. “Still under a false name ...”

  Ted stared at him. “Sir,” he said, “you do realise there’s a very good chance that we may lose him?”