The XO entered the briefing room, looking businesslike. “Mister Yang, I need to speak with you,” he said, bluntly. “Come with me.”
Markus smiled as he followed the XO out of the compartment, feeling several reporters staring at his retreating back. No matter how they pretended, they knew that they weren't really capable of understanding what was going on. No, the only way to do that was to have friends and allies — sources, rather — among the military crew. Markus’s status within the group, already high because he had been allowed to embed with the Marines, would rise even higher if they thought he had the XO’s ear.
“I understand that you took recordings from the prison camp,” the XO said. It wasn't a question. “We would appreciate it if you kept them to yourself for the moment.”
“As you wish,” Markus said, quickly. There was no point in arguing. Besides, they weren’t trying to confiscate his recordings. “Do you think the aliens wanted us here?”
“It's a possibility,” the XO conceded. “If they believed we survived New Russia, there aren’t many other places we could go. But why?”
“The POWs,” Markus suggested. “They could have been conditioned…”
“We thought of that,” the XO said. Markus let out a sigh of relief. “For the moment, they will remain confined.”
He smiled, rather dryly. “Do you have any other questions?”
“Just one,” Markus said. “Where are we going next?”
The XO hesitated, clearly weighing the question in the balance, then shrugged. “There are a handful of systems with tramlines that lead back to human space,” he said. “We’ll pick our way through them, trying to avoid contact with the aliens — if possible.”
Markus frowned. “We’re not heading further into alien space?”
“Not yet,” the XO said. “We need to report in to Earth and…”
He broke off as the alert howled, bringing the ship to battlestations. “I need to go to the CIC,” he said. “You get back to your compartment. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Markus said.
“Apparently,” Gladys said, “they were all naked. The aliens and prisoners alike, I mean.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. Gladys was older than Rose, younger than him… and queen of the chatterboxes. When she wasn't flying her starfighter or resting, she was chatting to everyone from junior crewmen to Royal Marines. It made her very well informed of what was actually going on, although she heard too many rumours for them all to be true. Kurt rather doubted that anyone would have the nerve to organise a striptease onboard ship with the XO on the prowl.
“Maybe they were molested,” one of the older male pilots grunted. “Wasn't there a film about Mars needing women?”
“That was about the shortage of women on the first colony,” Rose reminded him. “There was an accident and twenty-seven colonists were killed, twenty-three of them women. It had Jeremy Underline in his first starring role. And Nasty Mildew.”
Kurt smiled, despite the tension of being so close to Rose and yet pretending that everything was normal. Jeremy Underline was a heartthrob movie star; Penny had spent a year with her room utterly plastered in pictures of the handsome actor. It was odd to realise that Rose would have fancied him too… but then, she was only five years older than Penny. Nasty Mildew was worth watching, he recalled, yet the general theory at the time had been that she didn't really exist in reality. The unions might have objected to VR actors — they took work from real actors, they felt — but surely no living human could have boobs that big and still walk upright.
“There was a great nude scene,” the male pilot said. “I remember it well…”
“I’m sure you did,” Kurt said. He recalled, now, Molly throwing a fit at the filth Penny had been watching. Penny had been thirteen at the time, too young to watch anything even remotely sexual — and there had been nothing remote about Nasty Mildew. “But I don't think that was what the aliens had in mind.”
“They'd have to work hard to find the wretched actor,” the male pilot said. “I always knew she was a fake.”
“You’d think a VR composite character could actually act,” Rose said.
“I don’t think anyone cared about her acting,” Kurt said. “Coming to think of it, Underline couldn't act his way out of a paper bag either. Maybe he was a composite too.”
Gladys cleared her throat, noisily. “Maybe the aliens just don’t wear clothes and don't understand why we wear them,” she suggested. “There are colonies where people walk around in the buff.”
“Best shore leave destination ever,” the male pilot exulted.
“Most people who go to nudist camps really shouldn't,” Rose commented. She smiled at Kurt, a secret smile that was just a fraction too bright. “But didn't the alien bodies we recovered after the first battle have clothes?”
“Probably protective gear,” Gladys suggested. She didn't seem to have noticed Rose’s smile, but Kurt knew she rarely missed anything. “The aliens might well need protection, even if they don't wear clothes normally. Can you imagine trying to fly a starfighter in the nude?”
Kurt had to smile. “No,” he said, finally. The very thought was absurd, outside appallingly bad pornographic movies. He'd be lucky if he didn't accidentally castrate himself with the flight stick. “And nor should you.”
The alert sounded before he could say anything else. “To your fighters,” he snapped, thankful to be away from the embarrassing discussion. The enemy had to have finally returned to the system, loaded for bear. “Hurry!”
Rose grinned at him as she ran out of the room. Kurt flushed, then followed her until they reached the fork in the corridor that led to the launch tubes. Nodding at her retreating back, he ran down his own corridor and scrambled into his starfighter. Moments later, he was ready to launch.
“Twelve enemy capital ships just jumped into the system through Tramline Four,” Farley reported. “Janus sent us a full download before she was overwhelmed. Two carriers, one battlecruiser and nine frigates. Approaching on intercept vector.”
Ted hesitated, then made up his mind. “Set course for Tramline Two,” he ordered, coldly. “Maximum acceleration.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I think we waited too long, sir,” Fitzwilliam said.
Ted nodded, wordlessly. Both of the detached frigates had been destroyed, one of them at the other end of Tramline Four. But the drones were still intact and reporting back to Ark Royal. The alien ships were driving right towards them, not even bothering to leave a picket on the tramline. They were definitely out for blood.
“There must be something important on the other end of that tramline,” Farley suggested. “If they managed to scramble a defensive force so quickly…”
“Immaterial at the moment,” Ted said. If — when — they made it home, they could muster a large force to attack the alien system. “Run me the attack vectors, please.”
He watched, grimly, as the display filled with projected courses and attack vectors. The alien craft definitely had a faster rate of acceleration than anything human, which meant they would overrun the flotilla halfway to Tramline Two. Ted briefly considered trying to slip back into silent running, but there were too many alien craft to make it a viable tactic. At best, they would remain undiscovered for a few hours… and at worst, the aliens would manage to get close to their hull before being detected themselves.