There was a faint ding from the airlock controller as it registered the presence of a breathable atmosphere outside, but there was a long pause before it opened. Ted had to fight down the urge to open the airlock himself and step out into the starship, even though he knew it would ruin the ceremony. It would be petty and childish, but part of him just wanted to set foot on Ark Royal again, even though she was no longer his command.
The airlock clicked, then hissed open. Ted took a breath, tasting the indefinable mixture of elements that made up the old carrier’s atmosphere, then stepped out onto the deck. Outside, the landing bay looked shinier than he remembered, suggesting that Captain Fitzwilliam had made good use of the legions of technicians assigned to Ark Royal in the wake of their return to Earth. He paused, long enough to salute the Union Jack painted on the far bulkhead, then turned to meet his former XO and current Flag Captain, Captain James Fitzwilliam.
“Admiral Smith,” Captain Fitzwilliam said, as they exchanged salutes. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, James,” Ted said, and meant it. The first time they’d met, Captain Fitzwilliam — a young aristocratic officer — had tried to take command of the carrier out from under Ted’s nose. Instead, he’d wound up serving as Ted’s XO as Ark Royal went to war. After a somewhat bumpy start, they’d wound up trusting one another… and Fitzwilliam had saved both Ted’s life and career. “It’s good to be back.”
“This is my XO, Commander Amelia Williams,” Fitzwilliam said, nodding to a tall redheaded woman with a stern, almost patrician face. “She joined us from Victorious.”
Ted nodded, keeping his expression blank. He’d argued that Commander Keith Farley, his former tactical officer, should be moved up into the XO slot, but the Admiralty had disagreed. With the new push to construct armoured carriers and battleships that might be able to stand up to the aliens in combat, they wanted as many officers as possible to develop experience with the old-new starships. He had nothing personal against Commander Williams, but seeing her in place was a reminder that he hadn’t won all of the political battles.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “You have some big shoes to fill.”
He pasted a smile on his face. Whatever else could be said about her, Commander Williams was definitely one of the Royal Navy’s rising stars. Her career path would probably have led her to carrier command within a couple of years anyway, although command of any other carrier was something of a poisoned chalice under the circumstances. During the Battle of New Russia, the aliens had gone through modern carriers like knives through butter.
“Thank you, sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “I believe you know my senior crew?”
Ted smiled, more openly this time, as he nodded to his old subordinates. Most of them had been dedicated lifers, spending their time in an endless struggle to keep the old carrier up and running when the Admiralty didn’t give a damn what happened to her. They’d learnt more about splicing together components and systems from a dozen separate interstellar powers than anyone else, which had helped when the time came to capture an alien starship and press it into service. A quarter of his former engineering crew, he knew, had been reassigned to either work on the captured ship or assist the joint defence effort. It would have been more if he hadn’t put his foot down on the matter. The Old Lady needed her unique engineering crew to remain functional.
“It’s a pleasure to see you all again,” he said. “And I hope that fame hasn’t gone entirely to your heads.”
They smiled back at him, a little ruefully. No one had paid attention to them when they’d been drifting in orbit, part of the naval reserve no one ever expected to be called into action. Now, they were not only famous, but rich. The combined world governments had poured out reward money for the captured alien ship, enough to give even the lowliest crew a sizable bonus. And the fame had made them heroes. Not all of them had handled it very well.
He paused long enough to exchange a few words with men who were friends, even if he outranked them, then Fitzwilliam dismissed the greeting party and escorted Ted up through the starship’s long passageways towards the bridge. As before, Ted couldn’t help noticing that the decks looked cleaner than ever before, although the telltale signs of constant maintenance were everywhere. A number of panels were open, with crewmen working on the starship’s innards or carefully replacing worn components. Every day, Ted knew, a handful of older components failed. The Royal Navy’s response to the problem, back in the days Ark Royal had been a frontline carrier, had been to build a massive amount of redundancy into the system. Modern carriers had fewer maintenance problems…
His lips twitched, humourlessly. Modern carriers were also strikingly vulnerable to alien attack.
“We’ve effectively completed the refit,” Fitzwilliam said, as they stepped through the armoured hatch and into the bridge. Buried towards the prow of the vessel, it was almost impossible to disable without blowing the entire starship apart. “I think I can honestly say that the Old Lady has never been in a better state.”
Ted nodded as he surveyed the bridge. The old consoles had been replaced with gleaming new systems, although they too were already showing signs of wear. He’d kept up with the readiness reports from the carrier and he’d been pleased to note that Fitzwilliam — and Commander Williams — had maintained his draconian training regime, even while the ship was at rest. There was no way of knowing, after all, when the much-dreaded attack on the Sol System would materialise. The Old Lady might have to move from her anchorage and go to war without any real warning.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. The bridge seemed to have something missing. It took him a long moment before he realised that he was missing the bridge. The compartment wasn’t his any longer. He looked towards the massive command chair, then kicked himself mentally. It was Fitzwilliam’s command chair now. “You didn’t change the chair?”
“I thought it was part of history,” Fitzwilliam said. “And I didn’t want to change it.”
Ted nodded, feeling an odd lump in his throat. The command chair hadn’t been replaced since the carrier had last been on active duty. He’d never felt the urge to replace it — and now, Fitzwilliam was right. It was part of history. One way or another, the Old Lady had definitely earned her place in the history books. But would their writers be humans… or aliens? The war was far from over, even if the aliens had been suspiciously quiet for the last three months. Ted knew the planning staff suspected the aliens were preparing a final offensive. He tended to agree with them.
He followed Fitzwilliam into the ready room — it had once been Ted’s ready room — and sat down on the sofa. When he’d been Captain, he’d slept in the room more than once, catching up on his sleep while remaining close to the bridge. Now, he would have to sleep in the Admiral’s quarters near the CIC… and he would never command the ship in combat again. Indeed, even issuing commands to the crew could be construed as infringing on Fitzwilliam’s authority. His lips twitched, remembering command exercises at the Academy. They’d been warned, more than once, to try to avoid stepping on one another’s toes.
Fitzwilliam poured tea from a china teapot, then passed the cup over to Ted, who examined it with some interest. The fine china was probably expensive enough to swallow half of his paycheck for the month, he decided, if it could be replaced at all. It felt more like an antique than anything mundane — or Royal Navy issue.