He sighed as the other sleep machines opened, revealing two-thirds of his remaining pilots.  The remainder, waiting in the launch tubes, were even more tired than the rest of them.  Kurt forced his head to start working, thinking hard.  The squadrons needed to be reorganised – Delta Squadron was effectively out of service, having one surviving pilot – but he was too tired to do it properly.

“Dave, Gus, Gladys and Mike, take the ready starfighters,” he ordered.  “You're now classed as Beta Squadron.  Everyone else in this compartment is part of Alpha Squadron.”

Rose looked irked – he’d effectively demoted her – but she looked too tired to argue in front of the others.  If they made it home, Rose would probably be given a whole new starfighter squadron on a different starship, one where her experience could be passed on to starfighter pilots who had never even seen an enemy starfighter.  Kurt allowed himself a moment of relief, then pushed it aside ruthlessly.  Their relationship, their secret relationship, meant nothing.  All that mattered was staying alive long enough to give the aliens one final bloody nose before they were overwhelmed.

“Alpha, go get a shower,” he added, after taking another look at the display and calculating the vectors in his head.  The aliens, unless they sped up, would need at least two hours to overrun the carrier.  By his assessment, the aliens were keeping tabs on their location rather than attempting to actually stop Ark Royal.  “You all stink like ...” – his imagination failed him – “a very stinky thing.”

“Same to you, sir,” Oxford said.  “You shouldn't have worn your socks in the sleeping machine.”

It was a measure of how tried he was, Kurt decided, that he found himself giggling helplessly for several seconds.  “Shower,” he snapped, when he could finally talk again.  “Now.”

He watched them go, then looked over at Rose.  “I understand,” she said.  She leaned forward and kissed his lips hard, then strode past him into the shower.  Kurt glared at her back, then forced his body back under control.  She called back to him as her clothes hit the deck.  “Come on, sir.  The water’s fine.”

Kurt gritted his teeth, realising that he’d lost his detachment once and for all.  Somehow, he managed to keep his eyes off her, covering himself by scrubbing thoroughly at his feet and legs as the water ran down his body.  As soon as he felt clean, he stepped back out of the shower, towelled himself down and checked the display.  The alien battlecruiser hadn't moved any closer.  Indeed, it seemed to have decided to match the carrier’s speed even though it could have easily moved a great deal faster.

It's precisely what we want them to do, Kurt thought, as he pulled on a clean flight suit.  They’re being very obliging.  And that’s what bothers us.