His console chimed. “Commander,” Midshipwomen Lopez said, “the reporters would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
James bit down the response that came to mind. “Tell them that I will speak with them as soon as it is convenient,” he said. “And until then, they should go back to their cabins and get some sleep. It will not be convenient for at least a day.”
And longer, if I can swing it, he thought, inwardly. As XO, it was his duty to supervise the repair work, check the revised duty rosters and generally take as much of the burden of day-to-day administration as possible upon himself. If he was lucky, that should take more than just one day… and it was all urgent. Some of it, he knew, could be reasonably put aside until they returned to friendly space, but the rest was quite important. The reporters might have to wait several days for an interview.
He wondered, absently, what they’d thought of the battle. Despite the battering the carrier’s weapons and sensors had taken, there hadn't been much actual evidence of combat apart from the view on the display. If even hardened naval officers could become detached from the realities of space combat, what might happen to reporters who didn't really comprehend what they were seeing. No doubt their reports, when they were finally filed, would consist of nothing more than poorly-written nonsense. They’d probably been disappointed when their consoles had failed to explode.
The hours ticked past, one by one. James watched the aliens warily, but they refused to move or do anything other than just wait by the tramline. Were they more patient than humans, as a general rule, or simply too unimaginative to do anything other than follow orders? But wouldn't that mean that their superiors had imaginations? The Royal Navy taught its officers to use their best judgement, taking the initiative wherever possible, yet other space navies had different ideas. James had watched a Russian exercise from a distance and he'd been struck by how little freedom the Russian junior officers had, compared to their British counterparts.
Puzzling over it, he brought up the recordings of the battle and went through them, piece by piece. The analysts were already working on the records, but he wanted to see the raw data. It was clear, he decided, that the aliens were preparing their next operation, although there was no way to deduce the target. But Ark Royal had shocked them badly. They’d be wiser to reconsider whatever attack plan they’d had in mind.
But what did they have in mind?
Human tactical doctrine called for pushing the attack as hard as possible, right into the teeth of enemy fortifications. If the human race lost its industrial base, defeat was certain, all the more so as no one had any idea where the aliens were located. A deep-strike mission couldn't be mounted without a target, unless they were prepared to spend months — if not years — exploring stars almost at random. But the aliens… they’d hit a handful of small colonies, then New Russia, then they’d launched a probing attack that had been smacked back…
He shook his head. Had Ark Royal shocked them so badly that they'd call a halt, long enough to reconsider their tactics?
Pushing the thought out of his mind, he called Midshipwomen Lopez. “Make sure the Captain gets something to eat,” he ordered. The entire crew needed food as well as rest; he’d already had food distributed to crews at their stations, even though it was technically against regulations. But then, the bureaucrats had never imagined having to fight for more than a few brief hours. Hell, they probably hadn't imagined ever having to fight at all. “And then get some sleep yourself.”
“Aye, sir,” the young woman said.
Two hours later, when the Captain returned to the bridge, he looked refreshed. James allowed himself a moment of relief, then gratefully headed back to his cabin. He needed sleep too — and some time to think. One conclusion was inescapable. They had exchanged one trap for another.
And, unless the aliens got very careless, there was little hope of escape.
Kurt felt thick-headed as he opened his eyes and glanced up at the timer. Six hours. Six hours of sleep in a sleep machine. He could have scored six hours of natural sleep and woken up feeling better, if still rather shattered by the experience. Annoyed, he opened the hatch and sat upright, silently grateful that he hadn't bothered to dress before climbing into the sleep machine. He’d have to put himself on report later, he knew, but it made it easier to climb back into the shower. A quick check revealed that the aliens hadn't come anywhere near them while he’d been resting in enforced sleep.
Shaking his head, he finished washing himself, pulled on a robe and made his way down to his office. The list of slain pilots was waiting for him, demanding immediate attention. As CAG, it was his duty to write a brief note to their next-of-kin, telling them how and why their relatives had died. But it was a duty he couldn't bring himself to handle, not now. Instead, he called up the pilot rosters and rapidly reworked the squadrons. The bomber pilots would have to be permanently assigned to fighters, he decided. There was no reason to keep them in reserve if their normal craft couldn't be deployed against the aliens.
He looked up as the hatch opened, revealing Rose. She managed to look disgustingly alert, he noticed, as she stepped through the hatch and sat down on the spare chair. The dressing gown clung to her body in a number of enticing places… embarrassed, he looked away. He was almost old enough to be her father.
“They’re still out there,” she said, quietly. “They could find us at any moment.”
Kurt nodded. He would have preferred to be flying against the enemy or even running away, not drifting through space praying that the aliens wouldn't notice them. But he knew there was no real alternative. If the aliens realised where they were, they would bring overwhelming force to bear against Ark Royal. The carrier would fight hard, but she would be eventually overwhelmed.
“You did well,” Rose added, rising to her feet. “Very well.”
She tugged at her belt. It fell free, allowing the dressing gown to fall open. Kurt stared, hypnotised by the sight of her breasts bobbing free. Her pink nipples seemed to twitch, demanding his attention. Suddenly, it was very hard to breathe.
A hundred objections ran through his mind. He was a married man — but it was unlikely he would ever see his wife and children again. He was old enough to be her father — and yet she'd chosen him. He was… her hands tugged at his robe, pulling it right open. Somehow, almost of their own volition, his hands reached for her breasts, then slipped down to her buttocks. All objections fled as he pulled her closer to him, feeling his penis already standing to attention…
Afterwards, he couldn't help feeling regret, even a little guilty. He had betrayed Molly, broken the wedding vows that he’d made in good faith. Their relationship might be dented, yet it was not gone. But he knew what had driven Rose, just as it had driven him to accept her offer. The desire not to die without feeling a fellow human’s touch, one last time.
He looked up at the display and shivered. The alien ships were still there.
Waiting.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“We could probably get to the asteroids,” Charles said. “We’re experienced in such matters.”
The XO shook his head. Three days of drifting in space hadn't convinced the aliens that Ark Royal was dead. Their ships remained on the tramline to New Russia, watching and waiting for the humans to show themselves. And, in the meantime, the stress was starting to take its toll on the crew.