Abigail barely heard the rest of the sentence. They would like her permission to wed? Of course they’d like it, but they didn't need it. Anson was her son, not one of her husbands. It wasn’t her place to forbid the match, even though she doubted Maddy would make a good wife. There were some mistakes that Anson had to make on his own.
She looked at Maddy. “Are you pregnant?”
Maddy coloured. Her face was almost as red as her hair. “No, Captain,” she said. “I ... I do have the implant, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” Abigail said, truthfully. “I’m glad to hear that you were careful.”
Anson shot her a sharp look. Abigail ignored it. Birth control implants were freely available in the belt, but they weren't so common on Earth. It hadn't been that long since the Great Powers had been doing everything in their power to encourage their citizens to have as many children as possible. The Royal Navy wouldn't want its crewwomen getting pregnant while on active duty, but she didn't really expect groundpounders to go for the logical solution.
And besides, Maddy was in jail, Abigail thought. If half the stories about groundpounder jails were true, it was easy to see why so many people were desperate to avoid them. The implant might have expired before she was offered the chance to serve her country instead.
“We have discussed it,” Anson said. “If you’re unwilling to accept us as a married couple, we can jump ship when we return to Earth and find other employment ...”
“Which won’t be so easy in the middle of a war,” Abigail pointed out. Anson wouldn't have any trouble finding a freighter willing to take him on, under normal circumstances, but Maddy was a whole other story. It would be hard to find a freighter prepared to take both of them. And, of course, there was a war on. “The Navy might class you as a deserter.”
“I’m not a naval officer,” Anson pointed out.
“Technically, you are,” Abigail said. “And she” - Abigail pointed a finger at Maddy - “very definitely is a naval officer.”
She met Maddy’s eyes, silently daring the younger woman to lie to her. “Did you tell him about your past?”
“Yes, Captain,” Maddy said. There was no hint of a lie in her expression. “I told him everything.”
“Oh, goody,” Abigail said.
“Mum,” Anson said. “How many Belters would be arrested if we enforced groundpounder law?”
Touché, Abigail conceded. “Too many,” she said, out loud. “But are you sure - are you both sure - that you want to get married?”
“Yes,” Anson said.
Abigail sighed, inwardly. God knew she’d made some relationship mistakes in her life, but she’d never fallen in love with a convicted criminal. She might be sharing her bunk with Alan, yet she wasn't in love with him. Of course not. Sex and love were two different things and she was too old to pretend otherwise. The relationship wouldn’t last past the end of the war.
She took a long breath. “Then listen,” she said. “Sex is one thing. Marriage is quite another. You will be sharing your lives with each other - and others, if you open the marriage. You will discover - both of you will discover - that you will have to change to accommodate your partner. You will also discover that your partner has habits you won’t like, habits that can - that will - become maddening after a few months of sharing lives. And you will discover that a marriage cannot be so easily dissolved as a sexual relationship, particularly if you have children.”
Her lips twitched. “Your father has a habit of singing in the shower,” she added. “I used to feel as though he was deliberately torturing me.”
Anson flushed. “Mum!”
“And your Uncle Mattie likes spicy food that no one else can eat,” Abigail said. “And those are minor problems. You may discover that there are bigger ones when you live together.”
She looked from Anson to Maddy and back again. There wasn't any point in forbidding the banns, not when Anson was clearly determined to go through with it. He was stubborn, something he’d inherited from both of his parents. And while Maddy wasn't a suitable bride, there was no point in harping on that now. Who knew? Perhaps she’d do better after the war. She’d certainly get her pardon and discharge when the navy no longer required her services.
And Anson is right, she thought. Quite a few Belters ran away from Earth.
“I am required to give you a week to consider,” she said. It was true enough. “And if you still want to get married, I will give you my blessing. And I will even perform the ceremony.”
She took a breath. “But right now, I believe you have work to do,” she said. “We’ll be leaving in a few hours.”
“Aye, Captain,” Anson said.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Transit complete, Captain,” Anson said. He sounded reassuringly normal, for all that they’d been discussing his marriage only a few scant hours ago. “The task force has jumped with us.”
“Laser links establishing ... now,” Poddy added. The display rapidly started to fill up with green and blue icons. “No enemy targets within detection range.”
Abigail nodded, stiffly. Admiral Delacroix had led the task force through the tramline and across Talofa with a speed she could only admire, even though it had pushed her drives to the limit. It wasn't particularly stealthy, but the odds of the aliens not having Aquitaine under some form of surveillance were incalculably low. They’d see the task force depart and either deduce its target or take advantage of its absence to strike at Aquitaine.
And Bavaria is a poor trade for Aquitaine, she thought. The aliens would probably be happy to swap, if they realised that was an option.
“Signal from the flag,” Poddy said. “The task force is to advance on the target at once.”
“Understood,” Abigail said. “Helm, keep us in formation.”
“Aye, Captain,” Anson said.
Abigail leaned back in her command chair, trying to ignore the discomfiting feeling in her stomach. There was no sign of a trap, but that was meaningless. Bavaria was largely worthless, unless the aliens genuinely wanted human slaves. The aliens might have seen the task force coming and withdrawn or ... there were just too many options. And far too many places for an alien fleet to hide. And yet ...
Her eyes crept to the display. Admiral Delacroix wasn't being foolish, even though Abigail thought he was overconfident. The task force was ringed by sensor probes and pickets, watching constantly for stealthed enemy ships. There was no way the enemy would get an attack force into range without being detected, although she doubted the sensor probes would give the task force that much warning. The aliens would have plenty of time to get into position. Or simply to form a blocking formation and dare the humans to try to punch through it.
Bavaria itself was a blue icon on the display, well within the life-bearing zone. The system was still in the first stage of development, but there should have been a cloudscoop and a handful of mining stations ... there had been, she knew. The aliens had blasted them out of space when they’d arrived, along with the orbiting entry station and a handful of communication relay satellites. They probably hadn't done much harm in the short term, but the losses would be quite serious in the long term. Replacing the destroyed installations would be quite expensive.
And Germany might not have the resources to do it, she reminded herself. The Germans had come late to the interstellar party, if she recalled correctly. Germany itself had nearly been destroyed during the Age of Unrest. Even now, the French and Poles were suspicious of their former enemy regaining its power. Abigail freely admitted that groundpounder politics made little sense to her, but she could understand their concern. Germany is always either the victim or the victimiser.
She pushed the thought aside as red icons flashed into existence in front of her. Alien ships ... five alien ships, already thrusting away from the planet. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed what was missing. There were no fleet carriers ... no carriers at all, as far as she could tell. It was impossible to be sure, but it look
ed as though the only alien ships in the system were destroyers. They weren't powerless - she knew from grim experience just how powerful alien weapons could be - yet they weren't enough to take on the task force.
“Long-range probes are picking up three other ships,” Poddy said. “They’re bugging out.”
Abigail frowned, reminding herself - once again - of the damned time delay. The alien ships were heading towards the furthest tramline, already pushing their drives to the limits. Her warbook insisted that the alien ships were freighters, although - again - it was impossible to be sure. But the simple fact they were running certainly suggested they knew they couldn't stand and fight. There was no hint that they were on the verge of reversing course.
“It certainly looks that way,” she said, shortly. “But the other five ships are heading towards us.”
She frowned, again. The aliens might be trying to collect accurate data before the engagement. Admiral Delacroix was using his ECM aggressively, making it harder for the aliens to calculate precisely how many ships he was leading into battle. The aliens would certainly want to know what the odds were before it was too late to back off ... they might just have classed the five destroyers as expendable. Or the destroyers themselves might intend to reverse course, before they reached the point of no return. It made a certain kind of sense.
“Contact in two hours,” Poddy said. “Assuming nothing changes ...”
“Yeah,” Abigail said.
She watched the in-system display, expecting a flurry of red icons to pop into existence at any moment. And yet, she suspected the aliens were waiting patiently for the task force to get further into the system, further from the tramline leading straight back to Aquitaine - and safety. An illusionary safety, but safety nonetheless. Unless ... she wanted to believe there were no alien ships within the system, yet she knew better. Surely, the aliens wouldn't throw away five destroyers for nothing.
Admiral Delacroix’s face appeared in the display. “Starfighters will deploy in twenty minutes,” he ordered, calmly. “Those enemy ships will not be allowed to escape.”
Abigail nodded, slowly, as more detailed orders appeared in front of her. The escort carriers would launch first, a wise move given how long it took them to flush their decks. It wasn't ideal - not all of the escort carriers had trained together - but it would have to do. Besides, it would keep the regular pilots fresh and ready to launch at a moment’s notice.
“Pass the word to the CAG,” she ordered. “And then stand ready to launch.”
***
Under other circumstances, Alan thought as his starfighter rocketed into space, the task force would be impressive.
It was an impressive sight, he admitted privately. Two fleet carriers, seven escort carriers, seventeen destroyers and a couple of makeshift missile ships ... it was a formidable force, one that would have been a serious threat only a few short months ago. But now ... he had no idea how well the makeshift armour would hold, if the aliens pushed an offensive against the task force. And they would, he knew. Bavaria and even Aquitaine were petty, compared to the chance to take a shot at two fleet carriers. Replacing even one of them would take months.
“The CSP is moving into covering position,” Savage said. “They’ll be ready to cover us if the aliens have a surprise up their sleeves.”
“Hey, boss,” Greene said. “We don’t know if they wear sleeves.”
“I suppose they probably don’t fly their starships naked,” Savage said, deadpan. “Unless we’re facing the loincloths from Stellar Star.”
“If we are, I want to surrender,” Greene said.
Alan snorted, rudely. “I don’t think we could be that lucky,” he said. “And Stellar Star only gets out of trouble because she has a friendly scriptwriter.”
“And a smashing set of tits,” Greene countered. “And ...”
Patsy snickered. “All they’d have to do is dangle a naked whore in front of you,” she said, nastily. “And you’d surrender so quickly that everyone else would be left in the lurch.”
Savage cleared his throat, loudly. “If we could kindly focus on the matter at hand ...”
“Just when I had him on the ropes,” Patsy said. “I ...”
“Quiet,” Savage snapped. “We’ll be entering engagement range in five minutes.”
Alan nodded, feeling old. Hadn't there been a time when he’d enjoyed banter? Hadn't there been a time when jokes about firing at Will had been hilariously funny? Hadn't there been a time ... but then, he’d been promoted out of a cockpit. His sense of appropriate humour had clearly gone downhill. Or possibly uphill. Judith had always been trying to convince him to appreciate some of the finer things in life. They just hadn’t felt much finer to him.
He gritted his teeth as the alien ships started to go active, their sensors tracking the human starfighters with an intensity that worried him. The Royal Navy had had plenty of time to improve its tactics, but that was true of the aliens too. They’d learnt a few hard lessons of their own. And their destroyers were spreading out ... somehow, he doubted it was a good sign. Their weapons made the prospect of friendly fire all the more alarming.
“On my mark, break and attack,” Savage ordered. “I say again; on my mark, break and attack.”
Here goes nothing, Alan thought.
The alien ships showed up clearly now, instantly recognisable as the starships that had brought so much death and destruction to the Royal Navy. He was no longer inclined to laugh at their melted appearance, or the way they spread out to avoid accidentally hitting each other, not when he knew how dangerous they were. They were already firing, spewing plasma bolt after plasma bolt into space. The odds of actually hitting something were low, but they were already breaking up the human formations. That was worth more than a little effort. Besides, it wasn't as if they could run out of ammunition.
“Mark,” Savage snapped.
Alan yanked the starfighter into a twisting formation, jerking randomly backwards and forwards as the squadron raced towards its target. The alien starship grew larger and larger on the display, firing madly in all directions. They didn't seem inclined to try and run, even though they had to know they were badly outnumbered. A handful of human starfighters were blown out of space, but the remainder closed to attack range and opened fire. The aliens weren't even prepared for the bomb-pumped lasers. They didn't focus on the torpedoes until it was far too late.
“Twelve direct hits,” Savage said. “We got the bastard!”
“I think we over-got the bastard,” Greene said, as the alien starship disintegrated. “They didn't even hit half of our torpedoes!”
“That won’t happen again,” Alan said. On the display, the remaining alien starships were already updating their fire control protocols. Smart of them, he admitted grudgingly. They’d clearly assumed they were safe, only to discover - the hard way - that a torpedo didn't actually have to slam into their hull to do damage. Their hulls weren't tough enough to stand up to a bomb-pumped laser. “They’ll be ready for us next time.”
And we’re lucky they didn't realise what happened during the last engagement, he added, silently. He’d assumed the aliens would have noticed during Haddock’s raiding mission, but word didn't seem to have spread. Perhaps no one - including automated sensor platforms - had survived to make a full report. That won’t last, not when the freighters are already well out of interception range.
He followed Savage away from the remains of the alien starship and watched, grimly, as the remaining destroyers were obliterated. The aliens forced humanity to pay for the kills - seven human starfighters died during the final attack run - but the loss rate was squarely in humanity’s favour. Alan puzzled it over as the starfighters regrouped and started to return to their ships, trying to understand what the aliens might be doing. Had the aliens overestimated their defences? Or had they assumed they could break contact before it was too late?
His blood ran cold. Or are they trying to lure us deeper into the system?
/>
***
“There appear to be no more enemy starships within attack range,” Admiral Delacroix said, shortly. “Long-range probes and scans have revealed nothing. We will therefore continue our offensive against Bavaria.”
I suppose you couldn't declare victory and simply turn around now, Abigail thought. It would be a poor return for all the effort Delacroix had invested in deploying the task force, but it would be a victory ... of sorts. She had no doubt that groundpounder spin doctors would turn the destruction of five destroyers into the greatest victory since Ark Royal had stopped the alien advance towards Earth cold. No, you have to press onwards into the unknown.
She watched as new orders popped up in front of her. They were reassuringly simple: rearm the starfighters, then prepare to deploy them as soon as the enemy showed himself. And yet, she couldn't help feeling as though they were flying right into a trap. But where were the enemy ships?
Anson glanced at her. “Mum?”
The Cruel Stars (Ark Royal Book 11) Page 36
