The Trafalgar Gambit

Chapter Thirty-Six

James had rarely felt quite so helpless in his entire life. He’d endured his fair share of bumps and bruises as a child, including a fall from a horse that had left one leg broken, but nothing ever quite like this. It had taken hours of arguing to convince Doctor Hastings that he could attend conferences in a wheelchair, then he’d had to endure the indignity of being pushed through the corridors by his steward. The only saving grace was that he wasn’t — quite — out of command. It wouldn’t last, but for the moment he intended to savour it.

But being in a wheelchair was nothing compared to the thought of what was advancing towards Earth.

“The War Faction has mustered a considerable fleet,” Admiral Smith said. His fingers traced the tramlines on the holographic display. “It is their intention to head directly to Earth and end the war by bombarding the planet with radioactive weapons. Earth will be rendered uninhabitable and billions of humans — billions more humans — will die.”

James took a breath. It hurt even to breathe. “Can’t the other factions stop them?”

“Apparently not,” Admiral Smith said. “They took heavy losses in the earlier battles too, Captain. They claim they don’t have more than a handful of ships available and they’re holding them back to defend their worlds against the War Faction.”

“Or us, if we retaliate,” Farley said. The tactical officer leaned forward. “Some of their factions may want peace, but they might also think that the War Faction succeeding wouldn’t actually be a bad thing. Or they may assume we can tell the difference between factions when we counterattack.”

“Or they may all be hostile, just disinclined to lift a finger themselves,” James said. He’d seen aristocrats watch others self-destruct without doing anything to save their lives, merely because it was more fun to watch than intervene. “Can we stop them?”

“Earth’s defences… were badly battered during the previous battle,” Admiral Smith said. “If the objective is to get a single radioactive warhead into the planet’s atmosphere, Captain, they’ll succeed. A stealth missile will accomplish the mission perfectly.”

Just like we planned with the bioweapon, James thought. And we may still deploy the bioweapon in response to the War Faction’s attack.

Admiral Smith leaned forward. “According to the aliens, the War Faction has a base here,” he said, tapping one location on the starchart. “You will note that it is some distance from the border, as they suspected there would be further contacts between Heinlein and Vera Cruz and they wanted distance between us and their shipyards. Their fleet is gathered there…”

“We can’t get there in time,” James said. It would take at least two weeks to get to the alien system, by which time the aliens would have already started off towards Earth. The signal ordering the offensive would probably have already reached the system. His chest twanged, painfully. “Admiral… is it hopeless?”

“No,” the Admiral said. “I believe there is another possibility. They must assume we will be warned, so they will take the shortest possible route to Earth. In order to do so, they will have to jump through the New Russia system.”

He looked from face to face. “We will depart within the hour, along with all but one of our flotilla,” he continued. “If we move at considerable speed, we should be able to reach New Russia before the aliens and prepare to make a stand there.”

“We will be pushing the drives to the limit,” Anderson warned. The Chief Engineer looked exhausted. “If we lost the drive midway to our destination, Admiral, we would be screwed.”

“We have to take the risk,” Admiral Smith said. “We can try to buy time for Earth to prepare its defences, or even come to our aid. That is all we can do.”

He rose to his feet. “It has been seventy years since the Old Lady was commissioned into the Royal Navy,” he said. “Until this war began she was not tested in combat. But now she has been tested and she has done us proud. She will do us proud once again in this, our final battle.

“If we win this, the war will come to an end,” he concluded. “And if we lose, at least we will go down fighting, buying time for Earth.”

James felt a surge of pride in his ship as the Admiral paused. It was true, he knew, that Ark Royal had never been expected to serve as more than reinforcement to the modern carriers, back before the Battle of New Russia. But since then, the Old Lady had done brilliantly, surviving damage that would have ripped a modern carrier apart. There was very good reason to be proud of her and her crew.

“Captain Fitzwilliam, remain behind,” the Admiral ordered. “Everyone else; dismissed.”

“Admiral,” James said, as soon as they were alone. “I…”

“I’m sending Standish back to Earth,” the Admiral interrupted. “She will be carrying urgent dispatches for the Admiralty, a copy of the draft treaty and a note of my intentions. I’m also stripping her of most of her experienced crew for the carrier.”

“Captain Shawcross will love that,” James predicted, sarcastically.

The Admiral smiled, humourlessly. “I’m sending Janelle back too,” he said. “And Polly. And a dozen others who are probably more suited to return to Earth. And you.”

James stared. “Admiral, this is my ship,” he said. “I…”

“I need someone who can convince the Admiralty to deploy reinforcements to New Russia,” Admiral Smith said. “And you’re badly injured, Captain. I could hear you grunting in pain throughout the meeting. You can’t stay on the ship.”

“I’d throw a tantrum if I thought it would get me anywhere,” James said. Cold logic agreed with Admiral Smith; sentiment insisted he should be on the command deck as the Old Lady faced the aliens one final time. “I assume it wouldn’t, right?”

“It wouldn’t get you anything other than a bad memory,” the Admiral said. He took a datachip and pressed it into James’s hand. “Get that to the Admiralty, James, and tell them that I will be taking up that desk job after the end of the war.”

“That would be a good idea,” James agreed, mischievously. “Admiral…”

“And thank you,” Admiral Smith said. “For everything.”

James swallowed, remembering just how far they’d come together.

“You’re welcome, Admiral,” he said. He managed to get to his feet, then pull off a snappy salute. “I’ll see you back on Earth.”

But, as he was wheeled through the hatch to catch his shuttle, he had the strangest feeling he would never see the Admiral again.

“I wish we had time for…”

Henry shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, changing his tune. “That makes me sound awfully selfish, doesn’t it?”

“You’re not the only one,” Janelle said. She looked… irked. “I still don’t understand why the Admiral is sending me back to Earth.”

“Maybe he thinks Captain Fitzwilliam will need help in convincing the Admiralty to act,” Henry speculated. “You served as Admiral Smith’s aide. Who knows his thinking better than you?”

But he had a different idea. The Admiral might have come to think of Janelle as a daughter, of sorts. He’d been furious when he’d discovered that Henry and Janelle had become lovers, but he’d been more concerned for Janelle than Henry himself. In hindsight, Henry understood just what the Admiral had been feeling. His reported death had caused no shortage of problems for his lover.

And the Admiral may think no one will be coming back from this mission, he thought, morbidly. The odds had never been good, but now they were worse. He might have wanted to make sure she survived.

“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a datachip. “If I don’t make it back, please will you give this to my family.”

Janelle stared down at the chip, then looked up at him. “You’ll make it back,” she said, firmly. “And you still owe me a homestead on an isolated asteroid.”

Henry grinned, then swept her into a hug. He wanted — he needed — to hold her as long as possible, before her shuttle departed Ark Royal.

“Promise me something,” he said, as he held her. “If… if I don’t make it, and I might not, don’t let the monarchy destroy your life. Stay in the navy or go elsewhere — and change your name. Whatever you do, don’t let the monarchy claim you. It will destroy any hope of a normal existence.”

“I understand,” Janelle said.

She kissed him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, then she turned and practically ran through the hatch. Henry stared at her retreating behind for a long moment, then closed his eyes as the hatch hissed closed. She didn’t know it, but he’d changed his will. He did have a sizable sum of money in his own name, after all, and if he didn’t come home it would go to Janelle, making her a wealthy young woman. She could go to one of the worlds outside the British Commonwealth and make a life for herself, well away from the monarchy.

And goddamned reporters, he thought, sourly. He’d taken a moment to review some of the crap they’d sprouted about him after his death and most of it had been nonsense. Maybe he could sue for libel after he returned to Earth… he shook his head, tiredly. If there was one thing the Royal Family had learned about the parasites who believed they had a right to know everything, it was that squashing one or two of them was pointless. There were always more of the vermin scurrying around.

He sat down and reached for a datapad, forcing himself to concentrate on his duties. There would be time to miss her later, afterwards. And pray they both survived.

“Standish has departed, sir,” Commander Williams said. “She’s on her way back to Earth.”

“Good,” Ted said. He looked up, expecting to see Janelle in her usual place. But she was gone. “Set course for New Russia, Commander, and take us there as fast as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” Commander Williams said.

Ted sighed, then looked up at the starchart, running through the calculations again and again. It was going to be close, he knew, very close. If they’d screwed up one or more of the assumptions, the aliens might make it through the New Russia system before the Old Lady arrived, forcing them to chase the aliens to Earth. And then… Standish would probably reach Earth in time, he hoped, but would it be enough? Earth’s defences were weaker than they’d been ever since the human race had started reaching into outer space.

He wanted a drink. He needed a drink. But there was no alcohol on the ship, apart from the illicit still he knew existed somewhere. And besides, the last thing anyone needed was a drunken Admiral in command during the climactic battle of his ship’s career. They would win, he knew, or die bravely. There was no alternative.

And he’d sent Janelle home.

He wasn’t sure why he’d done that, although he knew he could easily justify the decision afterwards, if necessary. She was a promising young officer; service on Ark Royal as his aide would guarantee her a place at the Admiralty, if she wanted it, or a chance to move to one of the new carriers when they finally entered service. And the Royal Navy needed promising young officers. But he knew that wasn’t the only reason for his decision.

He reached out and stroked the bulkhead as the ship started to move, heading directly towards the nearest tramline. The aliens had sworn blind that no one would attempt to impede their passage, although Ted had no intention of taking it for granted. Ark Royal’s course would be easy to predict, once the aliens calculated her destination. If they sent word to the War Faction…

But it wouldn’t matter, Ted told himself. The War Faction’s fleet had to go through New Russia. There was no alternative unless they wanted to add several weeks to their journey, several weeks Earth could use to prepare the defences and get hundreds of thousands of people off the threatened world. The Old Lady would get to New Russia first and confront the aliens. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

He stroked the bulkhead again, feeling a dull thrumming flowing through the metal. The Old Lady was cumbersome and inelegant — and ugly as sin — but she was beautiful to him. She had always been beautiful, although he could never have expressed the sensation in a manner anyone else could understand. There was a crudeness to her structure, a sense the designers hadn’t given a damn about anything beyond functionality… and yet she had a heart and soul that the more modern carriers lacked. He could have retrieved his career, Ted knew, if he’d given up the drink. But he’d chosen to stay on Ark Royal, instead of retiring and drinking himself to death.

It had been a strange time, he recalled. His loyal crew had worked to keep the carrier functional, even though few of them had believed the ship would ever return to active service. They’d bought, begged and occasionally stolen components they needed to keep the ship in working order. They’d even allowed schoolchildren to tour the ship in exchange for funds they’d invested to keep the carrier active. Ted had often wondered why the Admiralty had never caught on. But then, the carrier had been out of sight and out of mind.

Until she was needed again, he thought, as his hand slipped away from the bulkhead. And now they need her more than ever.

“The drives are having real problems, Commander,” Anderson said, days later. “We’re overstressing both the regular drives and the modified Puller Drive. I think we’re at grave risk of losing the latter.”

Ted cursed under his breath. Losing the ship’s drives would be utterly disastrous, but he didn’t dare slow down. There were only a handful of hours before the aliens would pass through New Russia — assuming they had left when he’d calculated they’d get the message — and they had to be there first. He’d given the whole issue of bringing the aliens to battle a great deal of thought, but the only way to force them to engage was to be there first. There was no time for repairs.

“Take us through the tramline as soon as we reach it, then take the Puller Drive down completely,” he ordered. They didn’t need the alien modifications to get back to Earth, if they’d missed the alien fleet. “But we can’t deactivate the other drives.”

“So it would seem,” Anderson said. The Engineer exchanged glances with Commander Williams. Judging from the way they looked at each other, they’d probably planned the discussion beforehand — and it was not going according to plan. “Admiral….”

“We don’t have a choice,” Ted said. “If we fail now, we risk everything.”

Commander Williams stood upright. “Admiral,” she said, “I believe…”

Ted cut her off. “If you want to make a formal protest, Commander, you may do so,” he said. “I will note it in my log, which will be submitted before the formal Board of Inquiry into my actions. However, I believe we have no choice, but to take the risk.”

Her face twitched with suppressed anger. Ted briefly wondered if he should have sent her back to Earth instead. Commander Williams had been an up-and-coming officer, with a post on a modern carrier, before the aliens had proved that modern carriers were little better than target practice. She wasn’t inclined to accept risks Ted knew to be unavoidable. But then, the Old Lady had far more redundancy built into her than a modern carrier.

“I will log a formal protest,” she said, finally.

“Noted,” Ted said. He wondered if she’d realised that there were only two options; victory or defeat. If they won, the slate would be wiped clean; if they lost, they were screwed anyway. “We have only one more jump to make, Commander. Take up your station and prepare for transit.”

“I would prefer to be on the secondary bridge,” Commander Williams said. She hesitated. “Have you given any thought to tactical command of the flotilla?”

“Yes,” Ted said. He paused. “Why…?”

Commander Williams looked, for a long moment, as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “You have more command experience than myself,” she said. “I think you should take command of the ship.”

Ted eyed her, surprised. Had Captain Fitzwilliam told her to step aside if they managed to intercept the aliens? Or had she come up with it on her own? Or…

Technically, it was dereliction of duty. But she was right. He did have far more command experience with the ancient carrier. And this really wasn’t the time to learn.

“Take the secondary bridge, Commander,” Ted said, gently. He made a mental note to ensure her career didn’t suffer for her decision. “And then prepare for the final transit.”

The bridge felt almost like home, Ted reflected, as he took the command chair. It wasn’t the same being in the CIC, where there was a sense of detachment from the battle. Here, he sat at the nerve centre of his ship.

“Take us through the tramline,” he ordered.

He waited. For a moment, there was nothing… and then the universe darkened, as if he were about to sneeze. And then the entire ship shook so violently that he was half-convinced the Old Lady was coming apart at the seams. And then everything snapped back to normal.

“Admiral,” Anderson said, “we made it to New Russia, but we lost the Puller Drive. Completely. Even the human-designed systems have burned out.”

Ted sucked in his breath, then sighed. Whatever happened, he knew, they would not be leaving the New Russia system. Not now. They were trapped.

“Understood,” he said. At least the realspace drive had survived. “Do what you can.”