There was a long pause. “Seniority alone was not counted,” he added. None of the newcomers had any experience facing the alien starfighters. “If any of you have a problem with it, go tell the XO you want to spend the rest of the cruise in the brig and save me some time.”
He met Rose’s eyes briefly. He’d spoken to her already, telling her that she would be one of the new squadron leaders. Thankfully, she'd accepted the challenge without demur. Ted wasn't sure if she was completely reliable, but she did have experience and she needed something to focus on, beside her desire for revenge.
“We have updated simulations based on our previous encounter with the aliens,” Kurt continued, in a calmer tone. “After this meeting, we will go straight into them and spend the next few hours practicing, practicing and practicing. If there are problems, I would prefer to discover them in the simulator than actual flying. We will continue simulations even when we’re on the way, apart from one squadron that will maintain a permanent CSP around the flotilla. The aliens may surprise us at any moment.”
The pilots didn't look happy at the reminder. Kurt couldn't really blame them. One squadron wasn't really enough to provide cover for the flotilla, even if the flotilla was armed with rail guns and improved sensor programs that should give the aliens a nasty shock. Ideally, the other pilots would be able to rush from the simulators to their starfighters within minutes, but even their best timing wasn't ideal. When they got closer to New Russia, they’d have to abandon the simulators and remain on combat launch alert.
He made a show of glancing at his watch. “We start simulating in five minutes,” he said, raising his voice. “Anyone not there when I arrive will be buying the drinks.”
The room emptied, rapidly. Kurt allowed himself a smile as he saw the reporter’s bemusement. The pilots might have allowed themselves to chat her up, but not when their wallets were on the line. Kurt hadn't been joking when he’d told them that any latecomers would be buying the drinks, next time the pilots went on leave. The costs could easily reach a few hundred pounds.
“You can watch, if you like,” Kurt said, “but do not interrupt.”
The reporter looked up at him. Up close, she was so emaciated that Kurt seriously considered dragging her to the doctor and asking for a check-up.
“I won’t interrupt,” she assured him. “But can I ask for an interview later?”
Kurt met her eyes. There were tiny flecks of gold in them, hidden recording systems that would record everything she saw. Kurt had seen similar systems used by investment bankers, although their systems were different. He wondered, absently, just how the reporter found time to review everything she recorded.
“Maybe,” he said. “But it depends on my schedule.”
Chapter Sixteen
“All ships have reported in, Captain,” Lieutenant Annie Davidson reported. “They're ready to depart.”
Ted nodded. Ark Royal had been designed as a command ship, but her fleet command systems had been removed long ago. Refitting the ship with a modern system had taken two days of hard work, which hadn't left much time for practicing operational manoeuvres. They could still simulate operations, but it wasn't the same.
“Then signal the Admiralty,” he ordered. “Inform them that we are ready to depart.”
A dull quiver ran through the ship as her drives powered up. Ted allowed himself a tight smile, then checked the ship’s status display. Everything seemed to be optimal, although he wasn't entirely confident about how well the newer systems had integrated with the older systems.
“The Admiralty wishes us luck,” Annie said. “They’ve cleared us to depart.”
“Good,” Ted said. He looked over at the helmsman. “Take us out.”
Ark Royal quivered again as she moved forward, advancing towards the tramline. Ted watched the other starships fanning out around the carrier — unlike Ark Royal, they were nimble even if they did have other problems — and then looked back at the orbital display. Earth was heavily defended — the various spacefaring powers had managed to rig up orbital platforms to launch starfighters, as well as modifying civilian mass drivers to serve as weapons — but it was impossible to tell just how long the defences would stand against a determined alien attack. Besides, the aliens could do considerable damage by staying out of range of Earth’s defenders and attacking installations across the solar system.
“Tramline in two hours, forty minutes,” Lieutenant Daniel Lightbridge reported. “We’re clear of the Earth-Moon defence perimeter.”
Ted nodded, settling back into his command chair. He wouldn't relax at all, he knew, until they were on their way home. Three weeks of travel to reach their destination… a great deal could happen in three weeks. What if the aliens managed to block their retreat? Or… New Russia wasn't the youngest full-fledged colony world in the human sphere, but the tramlines further away from New Russia and Vera Cruz had never been truly explored. The alien homeworld might be lurking at the far end of one of those tramlines…
…Or it might be much further away, Ted thought, grimly. Their improved Puller Drive might give them far more range than we believe possible.
He shook his head. There was nothing in the detailed reports, half of which were nothing more than guesswork, that even gave a hint at the alien motives. Some of the scientists believed that it was nothing more than an accident, others — more cynical — pointed out that humanity had developed plenty of bastards who’d started wars to increase their own power, spread their religion, steal natural resources or simply for fun. But there was no way to know. Humanity’s visions of aliens ranged between inhuman monsters to incredibly advanced creatures who would share the secrets of the universe. Right now, it was looking like the former was actually correct.
“Inform me when we enter the tramline,” he ordered. “Until then, clear the CAG to commence his exercises.”
“Aye, sir,” Lightbridge said.
There had been a dispute between James and the reporters over the question of their right to step onto the bridge. James had ruled — and the Captain had backed him up — that the bridge was closed to the reporters at all times, except by prior arrangement. The reporters had contacted the Admiralty and whined, with the net result that the Admiralty insisted they should have access to the CIC when Ark Royal wasn't actually in combat or undergoing combat exercises. James was already planning a series of exercises that would work the crew to death while keeping a careful eye on the reporters. Thankfully, he had managed to insist that only four reporters could enter the compartment at a time.
“It isn't very impressive,” one of the reporters — the inhumanly thin girl — muttered. “I was expecting more.”
James wanted to roll his eyes. “This isn't a movie set,” he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Every one of these consoles is designed to be useful, not explode at the drop of a hat.”
He tapped a switch, bringing up the display. “As you can see, the flotilla is currently accompanying us…”
Somehow, he made it through the rest of the hour without losing his temper. The handful of experienced reporters seemed to know what they were doing, even the reporter who had embedded with 16 Air Assault Brigade during the raid on Lovell Base on Mars, but the inexperienced reporters kept asking the same silly questions, over and over again. And the unimpressive CIC didn't seem to help. Absently, he wondered if the Royal Navy shouldn't produce a Potemkin starship for the reporters, with more attention paid to aesthetics rather than actual fighting power. Maybe they could share the costs with the other spacefaring powers. None of them enjoyed particularly respectful reporters.