BooksBarbecue
Back Ark Royal Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover Blurb
  2. Contents
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  40. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  41. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  42. Chapter Forty

“Activate full stealth protocol,” Ted ordered.  The advantage of hitting the tramline at speed was that there was no way to predict their vector on the other side.  Even their arrival point could be dangerously random.  “I don't want a single hint of betraying emissions to reach their sensors.”

And then pray, he added, in the privacy of his own thoughts.  If the aliens caught them with drives, weapons and sensors stepped down, they were dead.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kurt guided his starfighter into the landing bay then sagged, barely able to move.  He was utterly exhausted.  Part of him just wanted to close his eyes and sleep, even though he knew he had to move.  The aliens could be on them at any moment.  Somehow, he managed to open the hatch and stumble out onto the deck.  None of his fellow pilots, even the younger ones, looked much better.

“All hands,” the intercom blared, “rig for silent running.  I say again, rig for silent running.”

“Crap,” Kurt muttered.  They were all exhausted – and yet, at least one squadron would have to remain on alert.  He looked up, then keyed his communicator.  “Move the bomber pilots to the spare fighters and prime them for immediate launch.”

Shouldn't be trying to combine CAG duties with flying duties, he mocked himself, as he led the way through the airlock and into the ready room.  He knew he was right; the CAG should remain separate from his squadrons, not leading them into battle.  But there just weren’t enough pilots onboard for him to refuse to fly a starfighter.  And he didn't want to stand on his rights and refuse to fly.  There was a reason CAGs weren't always taken seriously unless they flew every so often.

His fingers refused to cooperate properly as he wrestled with his flight suit.  It took several minutes to remove it and leave it on the deck as he stumbled into the shower and gasped as icy cold water washed over his body.  Behind him, the other pilots stumbled in, too tired to indulge in the laughing and joking they would normally have used to break the tension.  He caught a glimpse of a female pilot’s breasts, then forced himself to look away, damning himself for staring.  It was a breakdown in discipline his squadron could ill afford.

Somehow, he managed to make it out of the shower and over to the sleep machines.  Using them was never pleasant – they would need to catch up on natural sleep sooner rather than later – but there was no choice.  A natural sleep couldn't be broken so easily, even if it did mean less wear and tear on their mood.  Issuing a quick flurry of orders, he climbed into one of the machines and pulled the hatch down over his head.  Moments later, he was asleep.

***