James sighed, rubbing his forehead.  His head hurt, but he didn't dare take anything for it, not even a simple painkiller.  The last thing he needed was to have his judgement impaired any further.  Even as it was, he was deeply worried about accidentally doing something that would alert the aliens to their position.  The carrier was in no state to fight off a renewed offensive.

The Chief Engineer was right, he knew.  Ark Royal had lost enough of her point defence to make her hellishly vulnerable, although none of the internal systems and power conduits had actually been destroyed.  Given time, the damage could be repaired, while the destroyed weapons could be replaced from the stockpiles they’d taken onboard before they’d departed from Earth.  But would they have the time?

“Start work as soon as possible, but remember we have to remain undetected,” he ordered.  Ideally, he would have preferred to wait a week, long enough to place quite some distance between themselves and the alien craft even without the main drives.  But if the aliens caught them now, they wouldn't have a hope of fighting back long enough to reach the other tramline.  “I don't want a single betraying emission.”

Anderson gave him an offended look.  “My crew are not amateurs,” he said, crossly.  “They know what they’re doing.”

James opened his mouth to deliver a stinging rebuke, then realised that the engineer was as exhausted as everyone else.  “Get some sleep first,” he said, instead.  “Your second can handle the work.”

“I don’t trust anyone to work on the Old Lady without supervision,” Anderson said, flatly.  “With your permission ...?”

“Keep me informed,” James said.  Four days of work, all of which had to be undertaken without emitting a single betraying pulse of energy that would bring the aliens down on them like a hammer.  It wasn’t going to be easy.  “And don’t hesitate to conscript others if you need more hands.”

He sighed, remembering one of the stories passed down from his illustrious ancestors.  One particular Fitzwilliam had shocked his aristocratic relatives by taking command of a submarine, rather than an aircraft carrier or a battleship, during the war against Adolf Hitler and the Nazis.  That Fitzwilliam had once spent several days being hunted by German ships after a mission into the Baltic Sea had gone badly wrong.  James hadn't understood how his ancestor had felt, not until now.  Detection would mean almost certain death.

His console chimed.  “Commander,” Midshipwomen Lopez said, “the reporters would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

James bit down the response that came to mind.  “Tell them that I will speak with them as soon as it is convenient,” he said.  “And until then, they should go back to their cabins and get some sleep.  It will not be convenient for at least a day.”