He smiled at the thought, then glanced around the bridge. Consoles were darkening as power failed or internal reporting systems collapsed, but it hardly mattered any longer. They were doomed the moment they struck the alien craft. He searched for the words to tell his crew just how proud he was of them, yet nothing came to mind. But he thought they knew.
Goodbye, he thought, silently. I love you all.
Moments later, the two ships came together and exploded.
His life support unit was flashing red, but Henry ignored his own orders and watched helplessly, forcing himself to bear witness, as Ark Royal slammed into the alien ship. For a moment, he thought the carrier would shatter the alien ship but survive herself… and then the first giant explosion billowed through her hull. Moments later, both craft had been smashed by the blasts. Giant pieces of debris blasted out of the fireball and drifted through space.
Henry closed his eyes, silently bidding the ancient carrier farewell. She had been his home — his first true home, where he could be himself. He’d met his friends and lover there…
… And now she was gone.
But she had not died in vain, he told himself. She’d created a legend… and she’d ensured there would be peace. What better legacy could she ask for?
Chapter Forty
“Well,” Uncle Winchester said, “I dare say your old commander would be proud.”
“I don’t think he would have cared for a state funeral,” James said, sourly. Admiral Smith had requested burial in space, according to his will. “But I suppose the politicians must have their chance to pay homage to him.”
“Welcome to politics,” Uncle Winchester said. He leaned forward. “But I dare say he would have approved.”
James had his doubts. The Russians had been blackmailed once — and it had ensured that they had largely escaped consequences for the attempt to use the bioweapon. Officially, rogue agents had carried out the attack on Ark Royal, only to be stopped at the last hurdle. The truth would remain buried — forever, if the Russians had their way. It was infuriating to think that the Russians had largely escaped punishment for their actions. The only consolation was the awareness that they wouldn’t be paid any compensation by the other powers.
But they may get New Russia back anyway, James thought. The final negotiations with the aliens had hinted that they might abandon New Russia, purely to disarm the remaining elements of the War Faction. At that point… the Russians would reassert their claim to the system and, with so many people on the planet’s surface, they’d probably win. And who knows what will happen then?
“Perhaps, Uncle,” he said, finally. “And what of your plan to leave the system to die?”
“We may send the ships out anyway,” Uncle Winchester said. “Who knows what we will encounter in the future? It might be a sensible idea to have a hidden colony or two, some distance from the rest of humanity.”
“And stake a claim before the official borders wash over the system,” James pointed out, snidely. “It might be workable.”
“Indeed it might,” Uncle Winchester said. “And congratulations, Admiral Fitzwilliam.”
James sighed. The Admiralty had been coming under fire for failing to dispatch the relief mission in time to save Ark Royal. It was irritating — for once, it wasn’t the bureaucrats fault — but they’d tried to make up for it by handing promotions out to the survivors like confetti at a wedding. James was now the youngest Admiral in the Royal Navy and charged with taking command of the multinational fleet guarding the border worlds. It wasn’t a job he particularly wanted.
“Thank you, Uncle,” he said. “And have you made the arrangements I wanted?”
“I have,” Uncle Winchester said. “No one could deny you anything, not now. I would suggest you start looking for a wife. Quite a few young ladies were introduced to London during the last season. One of them would be interested.”
“No, thank you,” James said. “I don’t want a young wife.”
He scowled. “Did you complete the arrangements exactly as specified?”
“Yes,” his uncle said. “If there had been a problem, young man, I would have told you.”
James nodded. “I think Admiral Smith would have approved of that,” he said. “And I thank you for your assistance.”
He shook his uncle’s hand, then walked to the door and headed down the stairs. Outside, rain was lashing down on London, a mocking reminder that the end of the war hadn’t brought a return to the days before the war. Even now, millions of civilians squatted in refugee camps, while hundreds of thousands more had been conscripted into labour battalions and sent out to help shore up the defences. It would be years before Britain returned to normal.
Ignoring the water dripping down his uniform, he walked through the half-empty streets until he entered Hyde Park. The refugee camp that had been established there was gone, now; the grass was so sodden with water that it was almost a marsh in its own right. But the government had insisted on placing the memorial there, right in the heart of London. A giant piece of hull metal, scorched and battered by the alien weapon that had blasted it away from Ark Royal, sat on the ground, etched with names. They’d wanted to build a whole new Nelson’s Column, James knew, for Admiral Smith. And they would, one day.
But this will do, James thought, as he stopped in front of the hull and ran his eyes down the list of names. Three thousand crewmen had died on Operation Trafalgar, starting with a handful of pilots he’d barely known and ending with ADMIRAL THEODORE SMITH. He felt a moment of bitter Survivor’s Guilt as he saw other names; Commander Williams, Commander Rose Labara, Commander Kurt Schneider, Major Charles Parnell…
He shook his head. No one knew, outside a handful of government officials, just what had happened to Commander Schneider. The Russians would keep their mouths shut, he knew, if only to avoid a full disclosure of everything that had happened on the Old Lady’s final mission. His children would never know that some people considered their father a traitor. It would certainly never be allowed to affect their lives.
“I’m sorry, Admiral,” he said, looking back at the Admiral’s name. “You deserved better.”
He carefully unbuckled the Victoria Cross from his uniform and looked down at it. Admiral Smith had wound up with medals from almost every nation on Earth, after Ark Royal’s first cruise. Now, they were stored in the Imperial War Museum. One day, when the world was normal again, people would flock to see them and hear about the adventures of HMS Ark Royal. He wondered, sardonically, if they’d ever learn that the Admiral had beaten the demon drink as well as the aliens. Or would the slate be washed clean?
Carefully, he placed the medal beside the hull fragment, then turned and walked away.
“You can’t be serious!”
Henry allowed himself a smirk. God! He hated Victor Forsyth. The man was a PR hack, dedicated to making the Royal Family look good at all times. He might have been more tolerable if he hadn’t also insisted that Henry bow, scrape and grovel whenever there was the slightest hint of controversy. After watching Ark Royal die, Henry was damned if he was apologising for anything ever again, no matter who got their panties in a bunch. And he no longer cared about what it did to the Monarchy. It was, after all, nothing less than child abuse to have someone like Forsyth make him feel guilty for everything. Regular beatings would have been kinder.