He studied the display for a long moment. The six carriers were spread out, escorted by their frigates and the ever-present Combat Space Patrol. Behind them, surrounded by two additional squadrons of frigates, were the transports and supply ships. They’d be hidden under the best stealth systems humanity could produce when they left explored space, Ted knew, although he had his doubts about their ability to remain hidden indefinitely. Not for the first time, he cursed the lack of hard intelligence on some alien capabilities. If their stealth systems were staggeringly advanced, what about their sensor networks? They’d have a better idea of what they were looking for than human researchers.
“Contact the fleet,” he ordered, without taking his eyes off the display. “Inform them that we will depart for the tramline in two hours.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Lopez said.
Ted eyed the display for a long moment, then turned and walked to his command chair. The CIC was starting to fill with crewmen, almost all complete newcomers to Ark Royal. Ted couldn’t help thinking that he’d lost something with his promotion, even though he’d had no reason to complain about the newcomers. The sense of trust and camaraderie that had bound Ark Royal’s pre-war crew together had faded with the influx of outsiders.
He keyed a switch. “James,” he said, when Fitzwilliam’s head appeared in the display. “Are we ready for departure?”
“Yes, sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “The fleet is fully at your command.”
Ted nodded. It was hard, so hard, not to pretend he was still the commanding officer of Ark Royal, even after spending more time than he cared to think about on Earth. But she was Fitzwilliam’s ship now, and Fitzwilliam had a new XO to supervise. Ted’s former XO didn’t need him peering over his shoulder while he tried to master his new command. Maybe the months on Earth had been a blessing in disguise. Nothing irritated a Captain more than having an Admiral take matters into his own hands that were rightfully the Captain’s.
“Excellent,” he said. He felt a dull quiver running through the ship as the main drive came online, ready for departure. The damaged components from their desperate running battle had been replaced, even though some of the older systems had been completely irreplaceable. “Then let us hope for a willing foe and sea room.”
It was funny, Kurt decided, as he entered his office and shut the hatch firmly behind him, just how much the carrier had become home. The barracks were far from comfortable, there was very little privacy and he had to keep his affair with Rose under wraps, but it still felt more welcoming than his home on Earth. But maybe it wasn’t surprising. There was a simplicity, a rightness, about the military life that was missing on Earth. As an investment banker, he’d been called upon to compromise his morals more than once. But as CAG, he wasn’t required to lie or cheat to keep his job.
The thought made him grit his teeth, remembering just how much he hated his old job, now he’d tasted being a military officer again. His boss hadn’t been as bad as some — Kurt had heard horror stories about some of the more aggressive bankers out there — but he had insisted that Kurt keep his mouth shut about certain matters. Maybe he’d meant well, when an honest answer would probably have cost Kurt his job, yet it hadn’t felt right. Being in the military was so much simpler than being a civilian.
He winced as he sat down, wondering, once again, what he would do after the war. As a military officer, he’d been given treatments that would keep him fit and relatively healthy for years to come, but he was damned if he wanted to go back to the bank. And yet, he would certainly have to support his children, unless they managed to land high-paying jobs for themselves. Maybe he could find a posting on a civilian interstellar freighter. Former military officers were often headhunted by interstellar corporations, particularly those with experience of operations in deep space. And Rose could come with him, if she didn’t want to stay in the military. It was rare for a starfighter pilot to remain in active service longer than five years…
That may change, he thought, dryly. We all signed up for the duration of war, if war broke out on our watch.
Bracing himself, he pressed his fingertips against the terminal’s sensor and accessed the mailbox. Inside, there were a handful of messages from both Percy and Penny… but nothing at all from Molly. A message from an unknown address revealed itself to be from Gayle, who seemed to be worried about how the kids were coping with the new situation. Kurt cursed his lack of foresight — he could have asked the nanny to keep an eye on Molly for him — then scanned the message quickly. Both of Kurt’s children were worried about how their parents had fought, even though they hadn’t been there. Kurt guessed that Molly had given them her version of the story first.
Carefully, he opened the message from Penny and read it, quickly. His daughter didn’t seem to know what was actually going on, but she did want to see her father again. Percy seemed a little more perceptive, yet even he wasn’t sure what was happening. Kurt nodded in bitter understanding. Children — even teenagers — were often unaware of emotional undercurrents between their parents, even if they knew about such things in the abstract. He wondered, absently, if their school had ever discussed separation with them, then pushed the thought to one side. There was no time to fret over it, not now. The fleet was due to depart in less than an hour.
He sighed, again. They were close enough to Earth to hold a conversation, if Molly had wanted to talk to him. He hesitated, then started to tap in her contact code before stopping himself. The last thing he wanted was another shouting match, not now. But what the hell was she thinking?
You wanted to make sure your kids had the best possible schooling, he thought, coldly. It wasn’t as if he’d disagreed with Molly’s ambitions for her children. But, by doing so, you brought her into contact with people who could spend money like water and never miss it.
He cancelled the call, tiredly. He’d never really felt poor, but then he’d had a good job, beautiful kids and a nice house. He didn’t need fancy clothes, luxury food or long holidays somewhere it was always sunny. But Molly clearly felt otherwise; she’d wanted luxury, even though she’d known she could never have it. Until she could…
Or was she simply separated from me a long time ago? The thought was a bitter one, but it had to be faced. Starfighter pilots rarely married while on active service, like most junior crewmen. Molly had never had to deal with a long enforced separation. Had she discovered, when he’d been called back to war, that she needed someone in her life? Or was his paranoia simply getting the better of him.
“Record V-Mail,” he ordered. There was a chirp from the console as the camera activated, recording the message. “Molly.
“I don’t want to rehash our argument,” he said, carefully. It was funny how he could always find the right words to chew out a pilot, but not to talk to his wife. “But we do need to think about the future. If you have found someone else, I don’t mind; we’re both old enough, I think, to handle a separation. I…”
He hesitated, again. Should he mention Rose?
“I won’t stand in your way if you want a separation,” he said, deciding it would be better not to give Molly more ammunition. “But I do worry about the children. We agreed to raise them together, to bring them up until they became adults, and we must honour that agreement, no matter what we feel about each other. I know, most of the burden in the past year has fallen on you. But I still care deeply about them… and about you.”