He sighed as he leaned back in his chair.  “And then switch out the Alpha shift completely,” he added.  “Tell everyone that I want them to get at least a few hours of rest.”

His earpiece buzzed, two minutes later.  “Captain,” Fitzwilliam said.  “Might I advise you to get some rest too?”

Ted shook his head, then remembered that his XO couldn't see him.  “No,” he said.  Rest sounded a very good idea right now, but he knew his duty.  “I have to stay on the bridge.”

“Captain,” Fitzwilliam said, “you’ve been in command for the last twenty hours.  You need some rest.  As your XO, I must insist on it.”

“You must insist,” Ted repeated.  It was true; one of the duties of the XO was to point out when the Captain was overworking himself.  The duty was laid down in naval regulations, but it made for some awkward conversations.  Ted had never heard of any other XO actually carrying out the duty.  But then, it wasn't the sort of thing that would be recorded in starship logbooks.  “And yourself?”

“I snatched a nap before we launched the attack,” Fitzwilliam reminded him.  “I’ll take the next few hours on the bridge, then you can relieve me.”

Ted sighed and gave up.  “Very well,” he said.  “You take the bridge.  I’ll be in my office.”

He looked back at the display as the channel closed.  The alien ships were still holding position, watching and waiting.  If they started to search ... but they weren’t moving.  Every moment they delayed, he knew, Ark Royal’s chances of escape grew much stronger.  But realistically ... all they would have to do was blockade the two tramlines and prevent the carrier from leaving the system.  If, of course, they thought the carrier was still intact.

The hatch opened, revealing Fitzwilliam.  Ted took a moment of petty pleasure in noting that the XO looked tired and exhausted himself, then rose to his feet and surrendered the bridge to his subordinate.  The XO eyed him for a long moment, clearly concerned, then nodded towards the office hatch.  Tiredly, Ted left the bridge and stepped into his office, then noticed that his terminal was blinking.  The list of dead officers and men – mainly starfighter pilots – was waiting for him.

Ted glanced at it, then cursed under his breath.  He knew he should feel something – anything – for the dead, but he was too tired to let their loss affect him.  Instead, he sat down on the sofa, then lay down and closed his eyes.  Sleep overwhelmed him seconds later.

***

“It’ll take us at least four days to close all the blind spots,” Anderson said.  “The bastards did a damn good job of peeling away our defences.”