The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal) (49 page)

Unless there are other aliens out there
, he thought.  If there was one alien race, there would be others ... and they might be even more alien or less friendly than the first race humanity had encountered. 
Who knows what’s beyond the next star
?

“So we need to convince them otherwise,” the American said.  He looked askance at Henry for a long moment, then gazed back at Ambassador Melbourne.  “How do we do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ambassador Melbourne said.  “I just don’t know.”

Midshipwoman Hawking entered, looking far better than the Ambassadors in a one-peace swimsuit that kept her reasonably decent, but left little to the imagination.  No one batted an eyelid, Henry noted with droll amusement.  Wearing swimsuits everywhere had once been embarrassing or exciting.  Now, everyone was used to showing so much flesh.  He couldn't help wondering what would happen when the diplomats tried to return to Earth.  Would they insist on breaking diplomatic convention by wearing comfortable clothes to meetings?

“Your Highness,” she said.  “Admiral Smith has requested that you return to
Ark Royal
.”

Ordered
, Henry translated, mentally.  If there was one person on the ship who wasn’t impressed with his title, it was the Admiral.  He wondered, briefly, if the Admiral wanted to discuss the negotiations with him personally, then dismissed the thought.  If Admiral Smith had wanted to hear anything from the horse’s mouth he would have called Ambassador Melbourne directly.

“I’ll catch the next shuttle,” he said.  “Or does the Admiral want me at once?”

He sighed, inwardly.  There was one flight a day to and from orbit, in a shuttle designed for high-intensity operations.  It was still, according to the handful of people who had travelled from the surface to orbit and back again, a nightmare out of the days before antigravity systems.  Flights to space hadn't been so rough since humanity had started probing beyond the planet’s atmosphere.  Henry knew, without false modesty, that he was a brave man, but he still found the idea of being at the mercy of the planet’s weather terrifying. 

If we get out of the war alive
, he told himself firmly,
we
will
go live on an asteroid
.

“As soon as possible,” Hawking said.  “One of the shuttles was held for you.”

“Must be something important,” Ambassador Melbourne said.  “I’ll record a brief report for the Admiral on chip and you can take it with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said.

The flight back up to the carrier was, if anything, worse than the flight down to the surface, even though there was a lesser risk of falling out of the sky.  Henry hadn't come so close to throwing up since his first ride on the high-intensity simulator at the Academy, months – it felt like years – ago.  They’d been testing his limits, he recalled, and just about everyone had thrown up, eventually.  Henry had been told, afterwards, that he hadn't even come close to setting a record for endurance.  By the time the shuttle landed in the carrier’s shuttlebay, he felt the urge to kiss the deck as soon as he staggered out of the ship.

“Henry,” Janelle said.  “How are you feeling?”

Henry smiled at her, then felt his legs buckle.  “Tell me,” he said, as he steadied himself by leaning against the shuttle’s hull.  “Are we engaged in combat operations or is it just me?”

“It's just you,” Janelle told him.  “The Old Lady moves like a wallowing pig.”

Henry nodded, wordlessly.  The carrier wouldn't shudder and jump like a shuttlecraft, not unless someone did something stupid like trying to take the carrier into a planetary atmosphere – and even the Old Lady’s mighty drives wouldn't be enough to save the crew from the stupidity of whoever took the plunge.  Henry had a sudden vision of the carrier plummeting to the surface like an asteroid and hitting the ground hard enough to permanently damage the planet’s ecosystem.  No wonder so many people had worried about the asteroids orbiting Earth, he thought, as he managed to force himself to stand upright.  It could have been disastrous if one fell out of orbit.

And then the aliens attacked
, he thought,
and those asteroids weren't targeted.  And the aliens still killed billions of people
.

Janelle led him through the ship’s corridors, quietly filling him in on what had happened over the last few days.  Henry listened in growing disbelief; he'd known it was bad, but he hadn't realised just
how
bad.  He had no idea what the Russians had thought they were doing – stealing a starfighter seemed like pointless evil – but they had to have had
something
in mind or the effort would have been utterly wasted, along with their lives.  But what? 

Maybe they just thought that firing on the alien fortresses would be enough to restart the war
, he thought.  It still seemed like a pointless waste. 
But wouldn't the aliens have realised that one starfighter couldn't do enough damage to serve as a declaration of war
?

He pushed the thought aside as they stepped into the Admiral’s office.   Admiral Smith looked tired, as if he needed to sleep desperately.  It might well be the case, Henry knew, remembering the times he’d had trouble sleeping.  He certainly hadn't slept very well when he’d been an alien prisoner, even though he’d been fairly certain he wouldn't be physically harmed.  The thought of waking up to find an alien looming over him had kept him on his toes. 

“Admiral,” he said.

“Welcome back,” the Admiral answered.  He
sounded
as tired as he looked.  “Commander Schneider is dead.”

Henry winced.  He’d
known
Commander Schneider from back when he’d been Charles Augustus.  The CAG had been a good man, by his standards; he’d taught Henry a great deal more than he cared to admit.  And he hadn't tried to fawn on the prospective Heir to the Throne, even after he’d learned the truth.  That, if nothing else, marked him out as someone Henry could like.  And he
had
liked Schneider ...

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely.  He’d hoped to catch up with Schneider, but he’d always been busy, even when Henry had been pacing his cabin with nothing to do beyond reading pointless reports.  “He deserved better.”

“Yes.  Yes, he did,” the Admiral mused.  “And so did the Captain.”

Henry swallowed.  Captain Fitzwilliam was a good man too, even if he had chewed Henry out once or twice.  But Henry had to admit he’d deserved the row. 

He shook his head, running one hand through short white hair.  Henry couldn't help wondering if the Admiral had grown older over the last few weeks, for his hair seemed whiter than before.  Years ago, his father had told him that every senior politician went grey very quickly – and used hair dye or more complex surgery to make it seem like they were still youthful.  Personally, Henry rather preferred the older look.  It suggested the Admiral took his responsibilities seriously.

“But I don’t have time to commiserate,” the Admiral continued.  “I’m recalling you to active service – Rose Labara is being bumped up to CAG, with you as her second.  I expect you to get along with her, despite your identity becoming common knowledge.  There isn't time for anything else.”

“No, sir,” Henry said, firmly.  The thought of getting back in a cockpit was intoxicating.  “I’ll be happy to serve in any capacity.”

The Admiral’s lips twitched.  “You might regret saying that,” he said.  There was no humour in his voice.  “I need you to take up your new role at once, so I’m giving you a brevet promotion to Commander.  It may not last past our return to Earth, but you’ll need it for the position.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said.  Once, the promotion would have thrilled him.  Now, he knew it was something he wouldn't have had without special circumstances.  And if he
was
allowed to keep it, everyone would know he’d been favoured ... and why.  “I won’t let you down.”

“Good,” the Admiral said.  “Go.”

Outside, he hugged Janelle tightly.  “You could have told me,” he whispered.  “I wouldn't have let on ...”

“I thought it would be better left as a surprise,” Janelle said.  She walked beside him as they made their way to the hatch.  “There’s one other point the Admiral might not have mentioned, Henry.  Commander Labara was very upset when the CAG died. 
Very
upset.”

Henry hesitated.  “Were they ...?”

“I believe so,” Janelle said.  She paused.  “That is
not
common knowledge, Henry, and you must not spread it any further.  But if she allows her grief to distract her ...”

Henry winced.  How could
he
complain about someone having an affair with one of their shipmates?  But any relationship between a senior and a junior was always bad for discipline, if only because of fears of favouritism.  And yet ... one of the lovers was dead.  It no longer mattered. 

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he promised.  “And wish me luck.”

He sighed.  They’d be going into the simulators as soon as he entered the compartment.  But then, what
else
could they do?

“Admiral,” Janelle said, suddenly.  “Long-range scans are picking up fifteen starships entering the system from Tramline Three and advancing on the planet.”

Ted frowned.  Five days had passed since the aliens had informed the humans that the issue of human factions would need to be debated.  Five days, during which he’d waited, feeling ice prickling down the back of his spine.  Five days ...

He’d forced himself to do the paperwork, to read up on all the reports and pray the aliens listened to reason.  But if they worked out what had
really
happened, they’d be furious and almost certainly go back to war.  Humanity wouldn't react very well to attempted genocide either.

“I see,” he said.  He forced a calmness into his voice he didn't feel.  “Time to orbit?”

“Thirty-seven minutes,” Janelle said.  “They’re really pushing their drives.”

And they came out of the tramline as close to the planet as possible
, Ted thought.  There were human researchers who believed it might be possible to fiddle with the exit coordinate, but nothing had actually been proven. 
They must be in a hurry
.

“Bring the flotilla to combat stations, covertly,” he ordered.  Thankfully, they’d researched the tricky condition during the journey to the alien world.  His crew would be as ready as possible, without alerting the aliens that something was wrong.  “And then signal the Ambassador.  I want him to ask the aliens what’s happening.”

He settled back in his chair and forced himself to wait.  There had been no shortage of starships making their way in and out of the system since they’d arrived, but most of them had been civilian or commercial designs.  None of them had shown the urge to push themselves forward so hard there was a very real chance of burning out the drives.  But the newcomers were trying hard to reach the planet, as if they were racing against an invisible deadline.  Did the aliens have politicians who knew nothing of the realities of space travel, he asked himself, or was something more sinister afoot?

“The Ambassador states that he’s heard nothing, but he is going to ask for a meeting,” Janelle reported.  “There’s nothing wrong where they are, apparently.”

“Noted,” Ted said, eying the status board.  One by one, departments and compartments all over the ship were checking in, reporting themselves at battle readiness.  The only thing they didn't have was powered up weapons.  Starfighters were hanging in the launch bay, ready to engage the enemy if necessary.  Ted would have preferred to launch them at once, but it might have seemed a hostile act.  Instead, all he could do was wait.  “Let me know the moment they respond.”

The alien craft blazed closer, angling their approach so they were plunging straight towards the planet.  Ted studied the mass readings thoughtfully, silently concluding that the aliens had ten frigates, four middle-sized starships and one larger craft of unknown design.  It didn’t seem large enough to be a carrier, but that meant nothing.  Even the bulk freighters the Royal Navy had converted into escort carriers held two squadrons of starfighters apiece, giving them a nasty sting.