Christopher Nuttall - Ark Royal

Rose coloured, then straightened up. His limp cock fell out of her as she rolled off him and onto the deck. Kurt sighed, pushed his trousers all the way off and then stood up to go to the washroom. Whatever happened, he knew they had no time to just relax and enjoy the aftermath. The aliens might attack at any moment.

She followed him into the shower, carefully removing her own clothes. Kurt hesitated, then allowed her to climb into the small cubicle with him. She washed his back, her breasts pressing into his body, then turned so he could do the same to her. Kurt was struck by the sheer perfection of her young body, almost completely unscarred by age or experience, and felt a pang of guilt. He was cheating on his wife with a girl almost young enough to be his daughter. The guilt grew stronger as he washed her, then stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. What was he doing?

“Do you think,” Rose said, “that the other CAGs have fun with their pilots?”

Kurt flushed, angrily. “I think they have the shower because they’re not meant to fly or sleep with the pilots,” he retorted. Ideally, the CAG wasn't meant to identify with any of the squadrons under his command. The Royal Navy worked hard to encourage a certain rivalry between squadrons, but the CAG was meant to be above it. “And because they’re important people.”

“Don’t get too big-headed,” Rose warned him. “You’ll never be able to leave your office.”

“How true,” Kurt mused. He turned to look at her, then looked away, embarrassed, as she slid her panties back over her knees. Those weren't regulation panties, he noted… but who was going to know? It wasn't as if even the most stringent inspection included ordering pilots to lower their trousers long enough for their underwear to be checked. The very thought was absurd. “And I wouldn't be able to fit in the cockpit either.”

He looked over at his terminal, feeling another pang of guilt. Part of his duty as a CAG was to analyse the alien starfighter tactics and propose countermeasures. He hadn't been doing it, first because he’d been too busy being a Squadron Leader as well as CAG, then because he’d reasoned they were trapped and about to die when the aliens caught them. There was no point in doing paperwork when no one would ever read it, even the XO. But if he returned home, he could look forward to a year or two on the beach, helping the tutors at the Academy to prepare new starfighter pilot trainees for combat.

I could see Molly and the kids every day , he thought. He might not have to take up a teaching post — and, if he did, his family could come with them to the moon. And then…

The communicator bleeped, pulling him out of his thoughts. “CAG, report to the briefing compartment,” the XO ordered. “I say again, report to the briefing compartment.”

“Good luck,” Rose said.

She straightened up her jacket, glanced down at herself to make sure she looked decent, then strode out of the office without a backwards glance. Kurt glared after her, then hastily finished pulling on his uniform and stepped out of the hatch. One way or another, he was sure, their affair couldn't continue for much longer. Sooner or later, someone was bound to notice and then…

He shook his head, tiredly. If they didn't make it home, it didn't matter. And it certainly didn't look like they were going to make it home. But if they did…

Idiot , he told himself, as he made his way to the briefing room. Concentrate on the here and now. The future can take care of itself .

Charles hadn't expected the summons to the briefing compartment — or, when he entered, to discover that only the XO and the CAG had also been invited. Technically, the Marine contingent reported directly to the Captain; he’d been on ships where the Marine CO had refused to even talk formally to the XO. But with no task for the Marines apart from monitoring the captives — and the humans they’d liberated from the aliens — he hadn't expected to do anything other than keep his Marines busy.

“We have a plan,” the Captain explained. He outlined the plan, piece by piece. “We have to take that ship or destroy it without risking ourselves.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed, Charles noted. Traditionally, the commander of any Royal Navy squadron would ride into danger alongside his subordinates, even if he was often on the most heavily armoured ship in the navy. But the Captain couldn't abandon his ship and join the Marines as they boarded the alien ship, even if he'd been trained for the job. The Marines would be going into action alone… and if the first part of the operation failed, they were all dead. They’d detonate a nuke inside the alien hull to make sure of it.

But he couldn’t help feeling a thrill at the mere concept of the operation. The Royal Marines had a long and illustrious history of death-defying stunts, but no one had ever tried to board an alien starship before. One way or another, they would go down in history.

If the carrier makes it home , he thought.

“I understand,” he said, finally. His subordinates would love it, if only for the bragging rights when they finally made it home. The SAS, SBS or SRS claimed most of the bragging rights in Britain, while operations with Western Alliance partners exposed the Royal Marines to bragging from American or European operatives. But none of them had ever boarded an alien ship. “We won’t let you down.”

He pushed the exultation aside and began to think, mentally outlining the operational plan for the deployment. There were too many unknowns for him to be entirely comfortable, even though he relished the challenge. They knew nothing about the interior of the alien starship or how the aliens would respond to a boarding party. The Royal Navy’s protocols called for the compromised compartments to be sealed off, then counterattacks mounted by the Marines and armed crewmen. But no one had ever tried to handle a counterattack outside drills few took very seriously. Did the aliens take their drills seriously?

“They're sweeping space for threats,” he said, after a moment. “How do you intend to get the shuttles though their defences?”

“By giving them a threat,” the Captain said, grimly. “ Ark Royal will reveal herself here” — he tapped a point on the display — “and launch starfighters on attack vector. I believe they will focus all of their sensors on us so they can detect incoming projectiles. But we don’t dare move towards them too aggressively.”

Charles understood. If the alien craft wanted to break contact, it could… and the humans would be unable to escape their shadow. They could start running back up the chain towards Vera Cruz, only to run into the alien reinforcements on the way. But the aliens wouldn't think their ship could be attacked, would they?

He shook his head. Sometimes, no matter what the bureaucrats thought, you just had to gamble.

“I shall prepare my men,” he said. They’d relish the challenge, he knew, despite the danger of being blown up by the aliens if they scuttled their ship. Or by the human nuke, if the operation failed spectacularly. “When do you wish us to depart?”

“As soon as possible,” the Captain said. “You’ll have to sneak towards the target, then move in from behind.”

“I understand,” Charles said. In one respect, it was just like boarding a rogue asteroid settlement. Marines in a shuttle were hideously vulnerable, Marines inside the asteroid — or the enemy ship — could fight to secure and expand their bridgehead. “We won’t let you down.”

“Good luck,” the CAG said, quietly.

Charles gave the older man an odd look. Marines might bitch and moan about starfighter pilots having a comfortable seat while they fought — and all the women when they went on leave — but Charles knew the average life expectancy of a starfighter pilot facing the aliens. Even Marines might last longer… when the time came to finally hit a defended alien world.