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Idiot, he told himself as the hatch hissed closed. What do you think your secret has done?

* * *

“Jump completed, sir.”

Ted smiled as the familiar shape of the Sol System appeared on the display. He’d taken the precaution of insisting they came out of the tramline some distance from Earth, just in case Earth’s defenders were in a shoot first and ask questions later mode, but it seemed as though his precautions had been unnecessary. The closest human starship was over a light minute away.

“Send our IFF,” he ordered. The defenders, seeing them come out of a phantom tramline, would be more than a little suspicious. It would take time to reassure them. “And hold position here until they reply.”

It was nearly thirty minutes before a giant modern carrier, surrounded by a dozen frigates, approached Ark Royal. Ted smiled as her IFF — USS Enterprise — popped up on the display. Like most American carriers, she was overpowered and over-engineered… and, like all of the other modern carriers, hopelessly vulnerable if faced with alien starfighters. Ted felt his smile grow wider as electronic handshakes were exchanged, confirming that neither ship was under alien control. Whatever he was offered, he was damned if he was exchanging Ark Royal for any modern starship.

“They're asking what the hell we've attached to our hull,” Annie said, finally.

Ted smirked. “Tell them it’s several billion pounds worth of prize money,” he said. He wished, suddenly, that he’d thought to fly the skull and crossbones. Too late now. “And ask them for an escort back to Earth.”

He sat back as the giant carrier turned back towards Earth, her starfighters flying past Ark Royal in welcome. They’d made it.

They were home.

Chapter Forty

“You will not, I suspect, be pleased to learn that the media is besieging the Admiralty Building in London,” the First Space Lord said. “Word of your exploits — and the capture of an alien ship — has leaked out and the world has gone crazy.”

Ted nodded, keeping his mouth firmly closed. He would have bet good money, after meeting the PR staff assigned to the reporters, that the Admiralty had deliberately allowed the news to leak. The human race needed good news and Ark Royal’s successful cruise through alien territory was the best they’d had in quite some time. He had no doubt that the Admiralty would successfully minimise the simple fact that they'd come within bare millimetres of absolute disaster.

“The major interstellar powers have also contributed to a prize money fund,” the First Space Lord continued. “I dare say your crew will be happy.”

Ted nodded, feeling an unfamiliar twinge of gratitude for British diplomacy. Ten percent of the prize money went to him, ten percent went to the Marines and the remainder was shared out evenly among the crew. With contributions flowing in from all over the human sphere, even the lowliest crewman could look forward to becoming an instant millionaire. Taxes might have been raised to help fund the war effort — prize money wasn't tax-free, unfortunately — but they would still be quite wealthy.  Not a bad outcome, he knew, for a crew that had been scraped together from officers and men the Admiralty couldn't be bothered to discharge.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “And the former prisoners?”

“Most of them came from Vera Cruz, as you summarised,” the First Space Lord said. “The remainder came from the handful of smaller colonies the aliens hit and destroyed. Their families have been informed, but they’ll be remaining in custody for the moment.”

Ted couldn't disagree, even though he knew it was cold. The former alien POWs would require time to decompress, time to recover from their ordeal… and most of them had yet to purge the alien drugs from their systems. On Earth, they would receive proper medical care and, when they were ready to talk, sympathetic ears. Being held captive was bad enough, Ted knew, even when the captors weren't alien monsters.

Or maybe humans would have been worse, Ted thought. Apart from the drugs, the human captives were unhurt.

He sighed. The alien POWs had been moved to a secure facility on the moon, where a mixture of military and civilian researchers would attempt to unlock the secrets of their language — and their biology. If they could talk to the aliens, they might figure out the truth behind this senseless war… and determine if there was a way it could be ended without one side being completely crushed. But Ted wasn't hopeful. None of the doctor’s work on the aliens had managed to crack even part of their language.

“I will confess,” the First Space Lord said, “that I had my doubts about you.”

Ted kept his face expressionless, somehow. Had Fitzwilliam told the Admiralty about Ted’s near collapse back into drunkenness? Or had the First Space Lord merely had his doubts from the start, despite recognising that Ted was uniquely qualified to command Ark Royal? It seemed quite likely.

“You were a drunk, put bluntly,” the First Space Lord continued. “I fretted, even when it seemed that Ark Royal would be nothing more than an escort carrier or a backstop, before we learned the truth about the alien weapons. And when you had to take the ship into battle…”

He shook his head. “You have proved yourself,” he admitted. “When the chips were down, you made the Royal Navy proud.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ted said. He knew it wasn't entirely true. If Fitzwilliam hadn't caught him before he could drink himself into a stupor, the entire cruise would have ended very differently. “I did my best.”

“You did,” the First Space Lord agreed. He nodded over towards the display. “But the war isn't over.”

Ted followed his gaze. Two more star systems had joined New Russia in red, occupied by the aliens, while another three had been probed by alien forces. The aliens might not have dared go straight for Earth, but they’d weakened humanity still further. It was impossible to escape the feeling that the war was very far from over.

“It will take us at least a year to produce the new battleships and armoured carriers,” the First Space Lord said. “We’re trying to rearm a number of older ships that were converted into colonist-carriers or heavy bulk freighters, but that’s an uphill chore too. The aliens may still hold the whip hand.”

“So we go back on the offensive,” Ted said.

“Soon,” the First Space Lord said. He looked down at his desk for a long moment, then up at Ted. “When the time comes, it had been agreed” — he paused, significantly — “that you will command the offensive.”

Ted wondered, absently, just how many deals had been cut to make that possible so quickly. Few of the interstellar powers liked the thought of having their starships serve under another power’s command, no matter how closely allied they were. And Ted’s previous command had been shot to pieces, with Ark Royal the only survivor. He was surprised that any other power had been willing to agree to let him take command.

“We’re short on heroes,” the First Space Lord said, when he asked. “Blame the reporters, if you like.”

Ted rolled his eyes, inwardly. He'd only caught a couple of newscasts between debriefing sessions, but most of them bore little relationship to reality. One of the reporters — who hadn’t even been on Ark Royal — insisted that Ted had led the boarding party in person. But if he had, the Royal Navy would have congratulated him and then removed him from command.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, finally.

“Don't thank me,” the First Space Lord said. “Your life is about to become a great deal more complicated.”