He sighed. “Just keep one eye on your sensors and the other on your communications panel,” he added, “and everything should be fine.”
“Yes, sir,” Pixie said.
Kurt rolled his eyes. Pixie had been born on Luna and had the fairy-like build of a fifth-generation Luna citizen. If she hadn’t worked out endlessly from the moment she grew old enough to know what she wanted to do, she would have had real problems surviving on Ark Royal, let alone Earth. There were genetic treatments for problems caused by being born in a low-gravity field, but her parents had clearly refused to use them. Perhaps they’d just liked the thought of their daughter living up to her name.
The alien system was oddly disappointing. He would almost have welcomed a swarm of alien fighters, backed up by a pair of carriers, knowing it would distract him from his worries about the future. Instead, the alien settlers had completely ignored them, not even broadcasting towards the alien ship pacing the human flotilla. Kurt wasn’t sure if they were trying to stay out of the fighting or if they simply didn’t care. If scuttlebutt was correct, and the aliens organised themselves by political attitudes, logically there had to be some aliens who were completely indifferent to the war.
There are peaceniks back on Earth who think the war will ignore them if they ignore it, he thought, sardonically. A number had probably been drowned when tidal waves had battered the British coastline and swept inland. I wonder how many of them are in refugee camps right now?
The thought made him grit his teeth. He’d recorded a message for Penny and Percy — and Gayle, although she wasn’t related to him — yet he hadn’t dared say anything that might end up being used against him. He had written a message, which he’d placed in storage, but he had no idea what would happen to it. The post-return investigation would probably take the message and use it in evidence against him. And Rose.
He sighed. Rose was busy working the pilots though yet another simulation, instead of being with him. He missed her dreadfully, a dull ache in his heart that refused to settle, even though he knew they couldn’t be together until after they were discharged from the Navy. Or was he being silly, he kept asking himself in his darker moments. Rose was fifteen years younger than he, after all. Would they stay together in peacetime? Would she be happy being mother to his children? Percy wasn’t that much younger than Rose…
His console bleeped. “We’re reaching the edge of our range,” he said, keying the channel open. “Reverse course; sweep back towards the Old Lady.”
“Aye, sir,” Pixie said. She flipped her craft over — showing off a little — and drove back towards the carrier. “We have more than enough power left in the cells.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. Technically, she was right. Practically, it was asking for trouble.
“And what would you do,” he asked sweetly, “if you had to hold position outside the carrier with your power fast running dry?”
He went on before she could try to answer. “You need to keep a reserve at all times,” he added. “Expect the unexpected. Something will happen to fuck up all your planning and then you’ll be glad to have the reserve.”
She said nothing as they flew back towards the carrier, passing two more starfighters on patrol as they closed in on the giant ship. Kurt felt an odd sensation in his gut as they looped around and approached the landing deck; part of him was glad to be back onboard, part of him knew the blackmailers could have sent him another message. They hadn’t sent him anything else since he’d done the first set of work for them, but he had a feeling time was running out again. They’d made contact with the aliens, after all.
He dropped his craft neatly to the deck and watched, nervously, as Pixie came in to land. It was always hair-raising watching a new pilot try to land and it still worried him, even after making the pilots practice again and again in simulations. But Pixie managed a perfect landing and scrambled out of her starfighter, hastily running towards the washroom. Kurt smirked as he watched her run. Clearly, she had yet to realise the importance to limiting her liquid intake before boarding her starfighter.
Not that anyone wants to mess around with the bags, he thought, as he scrambled out of his own craft. Everyone remembers what happened to that idiot from the very first flight of starfighters.
“Commander,” a voice said, as he reached the hatch. He looked up to see Major Parnell. “If you will come with me…?”
Kurt scowled inwardly as they walked through a series of corridors and entered Marine Country. “Don’t you worry about us being seen together?”
Parnell shrugged. “The aliens being onboard has given us an excuse to run multiple searches for bugs,” he said. “We found quite a few, scattered randomly around the ship. Officially, we’re blaming them on the reporters who infested the ship during our first cruise.”
“Oh,” Kurt said. He had no doubt that reporters would use bugs if they thought they could get away with it, but there were such things as privacy laws. Not, he suspected, that reporters thought they applied to them. But using them on a military warship was asking to spend the rest of the cruise in the brig. “And has it worked?”
“The blackmailers haven’t contacted us to complain,” Parnell said, dryly. He mimicked an upper-class accent. “Dashed unsporting of them, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Kurt muttered.
They walked into the interrogation chamber and sat down. “We have monitored the access codes you sent them,” Parnell said. “There has been no attempt to use them for anything.”
Kurt let out a long breath. “Why not?”
“I have no idea,” Parnell said. “But they haven’t blown your cover, so I’d say they’re waiting for the best opportunity to use them. Which may be quite soon. My men are overstretched right now.”
“Or they might be playing the long game,” Kurt said.
“I doubt it,” Parnell said. He sighed. “Blackmail is a complicated tactic to use, Commander, and it can backfire easily. Normally, the blackmailers would work carefully to help you dig a deeper and deeper hole for yourself by supplying them with harmless pieces of information… until the point they were not so harmless. It makes it impossible for you to go to your superiors and confess because, even if they were sympathetic about the blackmail or considered it unimportant, your later betrayals would be much harder to avoid taking into account.”
“I’d be hopelessly compromised,” Kurt said, slowly.
“Precisely,” Parnell said. “Honey traps are far from uncommon in the espionage world. I was on deployment to the embassy in China once and you’d be astonished how many Chinese girls thought a Royal Marine was hotter than hell. None of them were really keen on us, of course; they just wanted to get into our communication terminals.”
“And did you keep them in your pants?” Kurt asked. “Or what?”
“We were warned not to fraternise,” Parnell said. “Which isn’t actually easy if you happen to be young, stupid and confident that no one will ever find out.”
He shrugged. “I never heard anything from any of those girls,” he added, “but a couple of more senior diplomats received copies of interesting pictures and a note saying they could spy for the Chinese or their wives would be sent other copies. I think one of them sent a note back thanking them for the pictures and asking for more.”