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Authors: Christopher Nuttall
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running between the targeted worlds and New Russia. Unless the alien systems were far inferior to humanity’s systems, they should have been at New Russia within a week, hard on the heels of news of their arrival. It just didn't make sense.
“Or maybe they think they’ve bit off more than they can chew,” Fitzwilliam offered. “The massed might of humanity is hard to bet against, isn't it?”
Ted shrugged. Interstellar carriers were an expensive investment, but once the industrial base for building them had been completed the costs tended to fall. There was no reason why the aliens couldn’t have ten carriers for every one of humanity’s – or far more. He gritted his teeth, wishing – yet again – that they knew something about their foe. All they really knew for sure was that the aliens were hostile.
“That isn't our concern,” he said, finally. “Unless anyone has any strong objections, I intend to inform the Admiralty that Ark Royal will be ready for deployment at the end of the week.”
No one objected, although he saw a handful of concerned expressions. He couldn't really blame them. Ark Royal had been sitting in the reserves for so long that she might well have problems that wouldn't become apparent until she was fully powered up. But the sooner they found out, the sooner such problems could be overcome.
Farley smiled. “Has there been any word on deployments?”
“Nothing so far,” Ted said. “We may be assigned to the unified defence fleet – or we may find ourselves assigned to serve as an independent raider and head behind enemy lines.”
“That would be interesting,” Fitzwilliam observed. “But we don’t know where to go.”
“We’ll find out,” Ted assured him. “The scouts are already searching for enemy territory.”
He looked back at the starchart. Assuming that humanity’s sphere of expansion had brushed against alien territory – and assuming that the aliens had similar requirements to humanity – there were several dozen G2 stars that might possess alien-settled worlds. The scouts would still take months to sort through them, hunting for potential targets. And some of them might not come back.
If they don’t , he told himself, we would know where to look .
“We’ll do a full power-up tomorrow,” he said, as he rose to his feet. “And then we will know where we stand.”
***
The sound of the intercom woke him from a fitful sleep.
“Captain,” Midshipwoman Lopez said, “we have picked up an emergency signal from the Admiralty. You and Commander Fitzwilliam are to report to Nelson Base at once.”
Ted groaned, then reached for his chronometer. It was 0423 and he’d slept for less than five hours, after watching the final preparations for power-up in engineering. Even if he wasn't drinking, he wasn't sleeping very well. No doubt he was having too many fears about taking his ship into combat for the first time.
“Inform the Commander that I’ll meet him in the shuttlebay,” he ordered, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “Did they give any explanation?”
“No, sir,” Midshipwoman Lopez said. “Just an emergency call.”
Ted groaned, then fumbled through his desk drawers for a stimulant, which he swallowed before getting dressed. An emergency call was never good news, even though the last time he’d visited Nelson Base he’d managed to keep command of his ship. He eyed the bottles of rotgut with interest, then picked up the bottle of water and took a long swig. Once he was refreshed, he made his way to the shuttlebay. Commander Fitzwilliam was already there, looking disgustingly well-presented. Ted nodded to him, then led the way into the shuttlecraft. The pilot was already powering up the drive.
He said nothing to Fitzwilliam as the shuttle headed out of the shuttlebay and directly
“Or maybe they think they’ve bit off more than they can chew,” Fitzwilliam offered. “The massed might of humanity is hard to bet against, isn't it?”
Ted shrugged. Interstellar carriers were an expensive investment, but once the industrial base for building them had been completed the costs tended to fall. There was no reason why the aliens couldn’t have ten carriers for every one of humanity’s – or far more. He gritted his teeth, wishing – yet again – that they knew something about their foe. All they really knew for sure was that the aliens were hostile.
“That isn't our concern,” he said, finally. “Unless anyone has any strong objections, I intend to inform the Admiralty that Ark Royal will be ready for deployment at the end of the week.”
No one objected, although he saw a handful of concerned expressions. He couldn't really blame them. Ark Royal had been sitting in the reserves for so long that she might well have problems that wouldn't become apparent until she was fully powered up. But the sooner they found out, the sooner such problems could be overcome.
Farley smiled. “Has there been any word on deployments?”
“Nothing so far,” Ted said. “We may be assigned to the unified defence fleet – or we may find ourselves assigned to serve as an independent raider and head behind enemy lines.”
“That would be interesting,” Fitzwilliam observed. “But we don’t know where to go.”
“We’ll find out,” Ted assured him. “The scouts are already searching for enemy territory.”
He looked back at the starchart. Assuming that humanity’s sphere of expansion had brushed against alien territory – and assuming that the aliens had similar requirements to humanity – there were several dozen G2 stars that might possess alien-settled worlds. The scouts would still take months to sort through them, hunting for potential targets. And some of them might not come back.
If they don’t , he told himself, we would know where to look .
“We’ll do a full power-up tomorrow,” he said, as he rose to his feet. “And then we will know where we stand.”
***
The sound of the intercom woke him from a fitful sleep.
“Captain,” Midshipwoman Lopez said, “we have picked up an emergency signal from the Admiralty. You and Commander Fitzwilliam are to report to Nelson Base at once.”
Ted groaned, then reached for his chronometer. It was 0423 and he’d slept for less than five hours, after watching the final preparations for power-up in engineering. Even if he wasn't drinking, he wasn't sleeping very well. No doubt he was having too many fears about taking his ship into combat for the first time.
“Inform the Commander that I’ll meet him in the shuttlebay,” he ordered, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “Did they give any explanation?”
“No, sir,” Midshipwoman Lopez said. “Just an emergency call.”
Ted groaned, then fumbled through his desk drawers for a stimulant, which he swallowed before getting dressed. An emergency call was never good news, even though the last time he’d visited Nelson Base he’d managed to keep command of his ship. He eyed the bottles of rotgut with interest, then picked up the bottle of water and took a long swig. Once he was refreshed, he made his way to the shuttlebay. Commander Fitzwilliam was already there, looking disgustingly well-presented. Ted nodded to him, then led the way into the shuttlecraft. The pilot was already powering up the drive.
He said nothing to Fitzwilliam as the shuttle headed out of the shuttlebay and directly
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