Christopher Nuttall - The Nelson Touch

“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.

“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.

“There are several promising lines of investigation,” he said. “And we have new insights into both alien technology and civilisation.”

“If we can call whatever they have a civilisation,” the First Space Lord muttered.

He looked up. “Ted, you and your crew will have to remain on your ships for the moment,” he added, in a firmer voice. “There will probably be an inquest into the Prince’s death at some point, but I doubt it will be pointing too many fingers, not now.”

Ted swallowed. The media had turned him into a hero once and it would do it again, but it was very much a double-edged sword. If they decided to brand him as the villain instead… his reputation might not survive, even if his career remained intact. And God alone knew what would happen when they heard about Prince Henry and Janelle Lopez. He’d probably find himself painted as the villain in their tragic love affair.

“Yes, sir,” he said, finally.

“During that time, I want you to work out proposals for taking the offensive once again,” the First Space Lord added. “And for contacting Faction Two, assuming they really exist.”

“Yes, sir,” Ted said, again.

“You’ll probably be also asked to testify in front of American and French inquests,” the First Space Lord warned. “In that case, I suggest you seek advice from my staff first. They will be looking for someone to blame for the loss of thousands of crew and a pair of very expensive carriers.”

“I know,” Ted said. It was hard to escape the feeling he deserved it. Frigates could be built relatively quickly, but carriers took years to produce. “I’ll inform you if I get any demands for my presence.”

The First Space Lord nodded and clapped Ted’s shoulder. “Good man,” he said. “Whatever else happened, Ted, you and your men did well. Don’t forget that, please.”