“Ark Royal?” He said, when the message finally popped up in his terminal. “They’re reactivating the Old Lady?”
“So it would seem,” the harassed dispatcher said. If Kurt had had any doubts about the seriousness of the situation, they would have been pushed aside by how desperately the military was scrambling to get everyone where they were going. No one seemed to have done any preplanning at all. “There’s a shuttle for Cochrane Yards leaving in an hour; once you're there, you can join the other reservists for pickup.”
“Understood,” Kurt said. He cursed inwardly, remembering that he had to call his boss — and Molly. Would she be concerned about the prospect of him going to war? “Let me know when the shuttle is boarding.”
Major Charles Parnell cursed out loud as the enemy force appeared out of nowhere, advancing towards the handful of Royal Marines with deadly intent. He’d deployed most of his men forward, leaving him and his officers dangerously exposed — precisely, he realised now, what the exercise designers had intended. He dived for cover, then lifted his rifle and started firing towards the enemy soldiers. They ducked themselves, but kept advancing.
I screwed this one up, he told himself, as he motioned for his men to fall back. There was no time to recall any of his squads, not in time to make a difference. He’d misread the situation and was about to suffer for it. The post-exercise discussions would be hellish. I…
His radio buzzed. “ENDEX,” a voice said. “I say again, ENDEX.”
Charles blinked in surprise. The exercise had barely begun! Why was it being terminated?
“Understood,” he said, keying his throat mike. “ENDEX acknowledged.”
He stood up and looked around. Salisbury Plain training area had been carefully designed to allow the various ground forces to practice their trade. The Royal Marines, who were regularly deployed to various colony worlds, made good use of the facilities… but now, the exercise had simply been terminated. He saw his commandos leaving cover and walking back towards the garrison, chatting to friends among the ‘enemy’ force. One way or another, he knew, he would never have a chance to recover from his mistake. It would be a permanent black mark on his record.
They reached the garrison, where a handful of sergeants were hastily sorting out the various units and pointing them towards their barracks. Charles spoke briefly to his Regimental Sergeant Major, then hastened down the corridor towards the briefing room. It looked as though every exercise had been terminated, all commanding officers gathering to be briefed together. Something was definitely wrong.
He took a seat in the briefing room and chatted briefly to the other officers, but it rapidly became clear that none of them knew what was going on. The CO entered the room, waved them back into their chairs before they could salute properly, then took his place at the front of the chamber. His face was pale, almost ashen. Had there been a natural disaster, Charles asked himself, or had terrorists struck again? He forced himself to relax. No doubt they would be given the answers soon enough.
“We have made first contact — and they’re hostile,” the CO said, once the doors had been sealed. “Several planets have been attacked by alien forces.”
He ran through a brief outline of everything they knew, which wasn't much. Civilians had no idea how long it could take to get a message from the edge of human space to Earth, which meant that the aliens might already have invaded several more worlds. It was quite likely that several worlds along the frontier had no idea of what was going on — and the first warning they’d get would come when alien starships materialised in their skies.
“All exercises are hereby terminated,” the CO continued, once he had finished outlining the bare bones of the situation. “We will be deploying within the week, ideally, either to places on Earth or Britannia. Marine units will probably be deployed to Royal Navy starships; so far, we have only the bare bones of a deployment plan. I don’t think I have to tell you that all leave is cancelled.”
There were some chuckles. “Sir,” a wag in the back row said, “would this be a good time to take my sick leave?”
“Probably,” the CO said, to general amusement. He smiled, then sobered. “We have been prepping for minor deployments, not a full-scale war. It is possible, I suppose, that the whole issue will be settled before too long, once the diplomats get to work. But we have to assume the worst. You and your men will go to war against an immensely powerful enemy with unknown motivations. We don't know who they are and we don't know what they want.”
“Us, it would seem,” Charles muttered.
The CO ignored him. “Prepare your men; I want everyone ready for departure within twenty-four hours. Deployment orders will be issued as soon as possible. Once the orders are issued, we will arrange transport on a priority basis. I imagine that the Marines will go first, as the Royal Navy is preparing its carriers for departure.”
He paused. “Are there any questions?”
A Colonel stuck up his hand. “Are we going to be engaged in joint operations?”
“I don’t know, but I assume so,” the CO said. “Scuttlebutt suggests that the Prime Minister is attempting to hammer out the details of a unified command with the other interstellar powers, but it could take months before we have a clear idea of who’s in ultimate command. For the moment, we will operate on the assumption that we will fight under separate national authority.”
Charles scowled. Collectively, the human race had a formidable number of carriers, starfighters and smaller warships. But that strength would be diluted if they fought separately, rather than as one unified force. Unity of command would be vitally important… but, at the same time, he suspected the Royal Navy would balk at placing its ships under Chinese or Russian command. Or French, for that matter. The old rivalry between Britain and France kept popping up from time to time.
Not a problem for us, at least, he told himself. Unless British settlements were attacked, it was unlikely the ground forces would see any action. But then, they were prepped for starship deployments…
“See to your men,” the CO ordered. “Dismissed!
Four hours later, orders finally arrived. Charles read them, wondering just what the head shed were thinking. Instead of being attached to a modern carrier, his unity would be deployed to Ark Royal. It looked as though someone expected the carrier to see action.
Or, he thought silently, that they don’t want us to see action.
Chapter Four
“Captain,” Midshipwoman Lopez said, over the intercom, “the latest shuttle is approaching the shuttlebay.”
Ted nodded. Three days of struggling desperately to prepare Ark Royal for active service had reminded him, again, of just how much paperwork the first commanding officer of any starship had to actually do. Everything had to be carefully detailed and documented, in triplicate, before the ship could leave orbit. In Ark Royal’s case, the modifications the crew had made to keep her functional also had to be carefully noted, just to make life simpler for the bureaucrats. But they’d probably end up with headaches if they tried to follow what his crew had done.
“Understood,” he said, dropping the terminal on his desk. His office was large, in theory, but several more boxes of spare parts had been stored there for the last few years. “I’m on my way.”
He looked wistfully at the cabinet containing his selection of alcohol, then angrily dismissed the thought and strode out of the cabinet. It was tempting, so very tempting, to take a glass… but he knew it wouldn't remain at a single glass. He’d take another, and then another, until he was blind drunk. And then the Admiral would relieve him of command, once he found out.
Two hundred crewmen, mainly borrowed from the Luna Shipyards, had already come aboard Ark Royal since the PM had made his announcement. They’d done wonders for the ship, but it would still be at least two weeks before they could reasonably claim to be ready for any kind of deployment. Ted marched down the corridor, noting where internal nodes had been carefully replaced with modern systems, then reminded himself to skim through the paperwork once the work was completed. They had to make sure that all of the different systems could work together before they took the starship into combat.
He nodded to Commander Fitzwilliam as he entered the shuttlebay, just in time to watch as the shuttle came into land. Fitzwilliam wasn't doing too badly, as far as Ted could tell, although he was clearly unprepared for the carrier’s idiosyncrasies. But then, that would be true of almost everyone in the Royal Navy. The only way to prepare for the carrier was to serve on the carrier. Thankfully, Fitzwilliam was smart enough to listen to his subordinates, rather than lord himself over them. He understood the limitations of his own knowledge.
“Mainly starfighter pilots,” Fitzwilliam said, as the shuttle’s hatch opened. “They seem to think we need them more than engineers and other workers.”
Ted wasn't surprised. Years of experience with the Royal Navy’s bureaucracy had left him convinced that the bureaucrats knew absolutely nothing about commanding a starship. A bureaucrat had determined that Ark Royal needed starfighter pilots and starfighter pilots had been sent, even though there were no starfighters for them to fly. It probably helped that the starfighter pilots were almost all reservists, who really should have been called up later, once the ship was ready for them.
He waited until the pilots were lined up, then stepped forward. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “I will be blunt. There are no starfighters, so we’re adding you to the personnel pool right now. You will start by cleaning out your living space, then helping to prepare the launch tubes for the starfighters, once they finally arrive.”
None of the pilots looked very happy at his words. Ted concealed his amusement with an effort. Pilots were often prima donnas, demanding everything from the very best of rations to having their starfighters prioritised for repair. It was a form of compensation, he had been told, for the simple fact that one hit would destroy their starfighters and kill them. But it was still incredibly annoying.
“As yet, we have no word on when we will actually deploy,” he continued. “However, I will inform you as soon as we get the word.”
He nodded to Fitzwilliam, who stepped forward and led the starfighter pilots towards their living quarters. Their quarters had been largely untouched since Ark Royal had gone into the reserves, leaving the pilots with the task of cleaning them up. It was irritating — Ted would have preferred more time to prepare — but the bureaucrats hadn't given him a choice. They’d already caused the pilots to waste two days at Cochrane.
Shaking his head, he turned and headed back towards his office. The paperwork wouldn't do itself, sadly. And besides, he needed to requisition some other equipment personally. The bureaucrats hadn't listened to Anderson when he’d made the request. But they’d listen to him.
Or so he hoped.