Sooner or later, he knew, someone would find out. They would walk into his office and see him screwing Rose while she was bent over the desk, or even see them exchanging warm glances and draw the right conclusions. There were few secrets in the wardroom; pilots knew each other so well that they would probably deduce the truth from a moment of carelessness. And then? Kurt didn't want to think about what could happen next.
Normally, you would be transferred, a mocking voice at the back of his head pointed out, sardonically. Or she would be transferred… but she’s already been transferred once, hasn't she? What sort of reputation will she get if she transfers again?
And no one will blame you…
Kurt nodded to himself as he passed a small group of crewmen carrying a box of spare parts in the other direction. Rose’s file might not be too detailed, but the world of starfighter pilots loved its rumours. One transfer might go unnoticed, a second would be all-too-noticeable… unless, of course, there was a valid excuse.
He shouldn’t touch her again, he knew. But he knew that all of his resolve would melt when she met him again, soon enough.
His communicator buzzed. “CAG,” the XO said, “report to Briefing Compartment A. I say again, report to Briefing Compartment A.”
Kurt’s blood ran cold. Did the XO know?
“Understood,” he said, bracing himself. He couldn't afford to walk into the compartment looking guilty. The XO, the general disciplinarian on the ship, would notice and start wondering why. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“They haven't moved at all, sir,” Farley said. “I think they’re drones.”
Ted gave him a sharp look. “Are you sure?”
“…No,” Farley admitted. “But it’s been five days and they haven’t moved, not once.”
“It’s possible,” Ted considered. Humanity had used ECM drones against the aliens with some success. There was no reason why the aliens couldn't use ECM drones themselves. It even made a certain kind of sense. Rather than tie up several starships hunting for a carrier that might already have been destroyed, the aliens could leave a handful of drones in place and rely on their presence to keep the carrier intimidated. “But we will not take the risk.”
He looked over at the helmsman. “Signal the fleet,” he ordered. “We will proceed to Tramline Two in ten minutes.”
A dull quiver ran through the carrier as her drives slowly came to life. If there was an alien fleet lying doggo, Ted knew, they might well pick up the carrier’s emissions, even if they were rigged for silent running. But the alternative was staying where they were for months, even years, while the war raged on countless light years away. No, they had to take the chance, he told himself. And at least they’d had time to do more repairs.
Score one for the Old Lady’s designers, he thought. All military starships were modular, despite the best efforts of some of their designers, but Ark Royal was more modular than any modern carrier. Replacing the damaged or destroyed weapons hadn't taken more than a few days, although their supplies of spare parts had been stripped to the bone. We could launch a long-range raid into enemy territory with only a handful of ships in support.
“All systems online,” Anderson reported. The Chief Engineer sounded tired, but happy. Ted and Fitzwilliam had practically dragged him into a sleep machine, just to ensure that the engineer got a few hours rest before the carrier started to move. “Our repairs are looking good, Captain.”
“I knew they would be,” Ted assured him. The other advantage of commanding the older carrier was that it’s technology was well understood by its users. There was nothing radically new on her hull, nor would there ever be. “And our weapons?”
“Powered up, ready to engage targets,” Fitzwilliam said. “Our starfighters are ready to launch; point defence crews are standing by.”
Just in case there is a prowling enemy carrier, Ted thought. “Excellent,” he said, instead. “And the fleet?”
“Ready to go,” Fitzwilliam assured him. “Kiev is ready to carry out her duty.”
Ted settled back in his command chair. “Then take us out,” he ordered. “Inform Kiev that she may make the jump as soon as we reach the tramline.”
Long hours ticked by as Ark Royal and her accompanying ships crawled across the useless system, every passive sensor primed for the faintest hint of an enemy presence. Ted forced himself to stay alert, reminding himself that the enemy could be anywhere. If they’d been fooled, all well and good… but if they hadn't been fooled, they could just be biding their time. Why bother sweeping vast reaches of empty space for the carrier when they could just wait for the carrier to show itself?
“The enemy ships haven’t moved at all,” Farley reported. “Either they haven't seen us or they’re definitely drones.”
Ted scowled. One disadvantage of widening the distance between them and the enemy ships — or drones — was that it took time to see what the enemy were doing… and, by then, the enemy might have started to do something different. The enemy ships were helpfully identifying themselves, which added some credence to Farley’s theory that they were actually drones. No manned starship would identify itself so openly to a stealthed enemy. But there was no way to know for sure.
He shook his head. “We remain in silent running,” he said. He’d never seen a drone that could jump through the tramlines, but the aliens might well have devised one. They might be automated, yet they could still alert the aliens at New Russia if the humans threatened to return. “Concentrate on Tramline Two.”
There was a long pause as the small fleet crawled closer to the tramline. “No enemy ships detected,” Farley said, finally. “But if they’re in stealth…”
Ted nodded in understanding. A single enemy ship could be lying doggo… he forced the thought aside as he studied the console, reminding himself that they were committed. He couldn't keep his ship in the useless system indefinitely, nor could they hope to fight their way past the aliens at New Russia. They’d already come alarmingly close to trapping and destroying Ark Royal once.
“Prime our passive sensors,” he ordered. “Then order Kiev to pass through the tramline.”
On the display, there was a brief gravimetric flicker as Kiev vanished from the dull system, jumping directly to Vera Cruz. Ted watched, half-expecting an alien fleet to appear at any moment, but nothing happened. Cold suspicion prickled at the corner of his mind. The aliens seemed to have left the backdoor open, which meant… what? Did they believe the humans to be destroyed or were they setting up a trap further into unexplored space?
Kiev returned in another flicker of displaced gravity. “They’re transmitting now,” Farley reported. The display changed, showing the Vera Cruz system. “No enemy starships detected.”
Ted frowned. If he’d overrun an alien-settled planet, he would have been sure to leave at least one picket in the system, just in case. But the aliens knew that Vera Cruz had never been very important… at least not as far as the pre-war human sphere had been concerned. If the system had been richer, it would probably have been snapped up by the stronger interstellar powers. Mexico wasn't a microstate, but it couldn't compete with any of the major powers…
“Take us through the tramline,” he ordered, running one final check on his ship’s systems as he spoke. They were ready for anything. “Now.”
Space twisted around them as they vanished from the useless system and reappeared in Vera Cruz, where the war had begun. Ted stared at the display, half-expecting to see a wave of missiles lancing towards them, followed by clouds of alien starfighters, but saw nothing. A chill ran down his spine as he realised that the entire system was as dark and silent as the grave. There might be no one left alive on Vera Cruz, he realised, and there had never been any settlements established off-world. The aliens had seen, destroyed and moved on.