Kurt nodded. One system had given way to another — the site of the previous ambush — yet the aliens hadn’t even tried to bar their way. Indeed, they’d almost seemed inclined to just let the humans go without further trouble. The pilots had speculated that the aliens were scared of the fleet — why not, after they’d pounded their way through several alien formations? — but Kurt suspected it was something else. And, when they found out the truth, he had a nasty feeling they weren’t going to like it.
“Let’s not be ungrateful,” he said. The crew had been working constantly to repair as much as they could of the damaged ships. If the aliens wanted to give them time to make repairs, the Admiral had said, why not let them? “We can find other uses for our time.”
Rose snorted. She lay naked on the deck, happy after a long bout of lovemaking that had cheered them both up after the shock of discovering just how many pilots had been killed in the fighting and the struggle to reintegrate the remaining fighters into a handful of squadrons. The French pilots, at least, seemed to be fitting in well, but many of them were badly depressed. It was hard to blame them after watching Napoleon’s sudden and violent death.
“Yes,” Rose said, as she rolled over and straddled him. “I suppose we can.”
Afterwards, Kurt remembered his children and wondered, bitterly, what had happened to them. Had Molly poisoned their minds against him? Or had she simply left them in the care of the hired help and vanished with… someone? Or… what? There was no way to know until they reached Earth. Absently, he wondered just how she would react to discovering that there was no more prize money. Would she be horrified, knowing that her new lifestyle was hardly sustainable, or would she demand that he continue to finance her anyway? Or what…?
“You’re thinking about the future again,” Rose teased. She leaned down to kiss his lips, then pulled herself off him. “Don’t. It’s bad habit.”
“I got it from spending too much time in the Reserve,” Kurt admitted. “But you should think about the future too.”
“I try to avoid it,” Rose said. “If I think too much about the future, I might not have a past.”
She was right, Kurt knew. Starfighter pilots tried to live every day as though it were their last day to live. For too many of them, since the way had begun, it had been their last day. If there was trouble in Sin City or one of the more… sedate places, chances were that there was a starfighter pilot at the bottom of it. The MPs made allowances. Sometimes.
“You may not be flying for much longer,” he pointed out. “What will you do then?”
“This is wartime,” Rose reminded him. “Do you really expect them to keep the three-year rule now?”
“No,” Kurt said, after a long moment. “But you’ll burn out, sooner or later.”
Rose stood, her bare breasts bouncing as she moved. “I’ll just go on like you until I run into a plasma bolt with my name on it,” she said. “And the future can take care of itself.”
She walked into the washroom. Kurt watched her go, admiring the muscles in her legs and buttocks, then stood and followed her. She was right. They might as well enjoy themselves while they could, because time would run out sooner or later. And when it did, they would die just as quickly as Prince Henry.
Ted half-expected trouble when they transited back into the Terra Nova star system. The aliens might have been able to rush a blocking force in place to stop them, even though it was just one transit from Earth. But instead, there was an alarming shortage of starships — human or alien — in the system. And the planet itself was emitting almost no radio emissions. Cold ice ran down his spine as he realised that something had happened while they’d been gone.
“Picking up a signal,” Lopez reported. She’d insisted on returning to duty two days after their talk, even though he’d been prepared to offer her a longer break. There was something harsh and cold in her voice, as if something had died in her along with her lover. Ted worried about her, more than he cared to admit. “They’re saying…”
She took a long breath. “Sir, they’re saying that Earth has been attacked,” she added. “The aliens were beaten off, but they inflicted huge damage.”
“Take us to the tramline,” Ted ordered. They’d have to get the full story from the First Space Lord, but it explained why the aliens had taken so long to respond to Operation Nelson. They’d launched their own operation at the same time! “Abandon stealth; best possible speed.”
Bitterly, he settled back in his command chair to wait.
Chapter Forty
“Welcome back, Ted,” the First Space Lord said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Tea, please,” Ted said. The urge to take something stronger was almost overpowering, but he knew once he started he might never be able to stop. Again. “Thank you, sir.”
The trip from the tramline to Earth had been nightmarish. A full quarter of the asteroid settlements mankind had created had been destroyed, while Mars and Venus had both been bombarded and the aliens had barely been kept from smashing the cloudscoops orbiting Jupiter and Saturn. Luna had taken a number of glancing blows — Sin City had been badly damaged, for no apparent reason — and several weapons had fallen on Earth herself. The general theory was that the aliens had struck Earth by accident, but it was no consolation to the millions who had died or found themselves homeless.
And the losses in starships were almost worse. Seven carriers, nearly a hundred frigates and dozens of other ships had simply been wiped out. The aliens, thankfully, hadn’t targeted the shipyards specifically, but they’d done enough damage to cripple humanity’s attempts to rebuild the fleet. Overall, Ted knew, for all the damage Operation Nelson had done, the aliens might have ensured their eventual victory over the human race.
“I saw your report,” the First Space Lord said, softly. “You did well, Ted.”
“Not well enough,” Ted grated. They’d hoped to deal the aliens a decisive blow. Instead, the aliens had hurt the human race badly. “And we lost the Prince.”
“His Majesty and the Privy Council have already been informed,” the First Space Lord said. “I imagine they’ll move quickly to capitalise on Henry’s” — his voice became cold, almost sardonic — “glorious death in battle. The strikes on Earth caused considerable damage to our morale.”
“There are other considerations,” Ted said, “but none of them are important now.”
“Probably not,” the First Space Lord agreed. “We honestly don’t know how to proceed.”
Ted sighed. There was the prospect — a very faint prospect — of locating an alien faction that wasn’t bent on a war of genocide. But, even now, the analysts hadn’t been able to determine if the faction genuinely existed or if it was just another attempt to deceive the human race. Had they been deliberately lured to Target Two or was that just, from the alien point of view, a happy accident? It was quite possible that the aliens would want to prevent the task force from encountering Faction Two… assuming, of course, that Faction Two actually existed. There was no way to say for sure.
But the aliens had knocked humanity back, hard. How long would it be until they came and finished the job?
Maybe it’s time to start planning an evacuation of the best and brightest of humanity, he thought. A ragtag fleet of starships making their way from star to star, looking for a new home.
He pushed the thought aside. It was his duty to stand and fight in the defence of Britannia, Earth and the whole human race. Others could try to make an escape, if they could. He would stay and fight.