Fighting For The Crown (Ark Royal Book 16)

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Marigold frowned. “I don’t think that thought is worth a penny,” she said. She removed her helmet and ran her hand through her sweat-sodden hair. “What’s your point?”

  “I was trying to convince myself the shuttles and starfighters wouldn’t do any real damage to the fleet,” Tobias said. “But that isn’t true.”

  He yawned as he stumbled through the hatch. They needed some rest, quickly. He had no doubt they’d be going back into action shortly, perhaps very shortly. The alien system was inhabited, if not particularly industrialised. The virus would feel a certain inclination to protect it. Tobias had no doubt it was just a matter of time before the main body of the alien fleet arrived. And who knew what would happen then?

  Marigold stepped up beside him as they made their way to the wardroom. Bagehot was already there, drinking coffee. Tobias felt a hot flash of naked hatred that surprised him, given that Bagehot had been the very epitome of a reasonable authority figure. He’d been so much better than anyone else Tobias had met that there wasn’t any real competition. And yet ... Bagehot passed them both cups of coffee, then motioned to chairs as the remaining pilots flowed into the compartment. Tobias sat, feeling as if he was going to fall asleep at any moment. He hadn’t felt so bad since the day he’d stayed up half the night studying for an exam ... which he’d failed.

  And if I hadn’t failed the exam, I might never have joined the navy, he thought. And I would never have met Marigold.

  “The mission was completed,” Bagehot said. “However, Callam, Johan, Penny and Alana were lost.”

  “Soften the blow, why don’t you?” Tobias didn’t realise he’d spoken aloud until Bagehot looked at him. “They’re dead. They ...”

  “Yes.” Bagehot looked pained. He’d spent more time with the new pilots than Tobias, even though Tobias had been meant to show them the ropes. “Their deaths weren’t in vain.”

  Tobias wasn’t sure that was true. How many people would remember the dead pilots? Hell, how many people remembered his dead father? How many people would mourn him, if he died? His mother and sister? Who else? Marigold would probably die with him. Colin? The thought would have made Tobias smile, if he hadn’t been so tired. His former bully might just be relieved if Tobias died, just because Tobias was a constant reminder of the person he’d been. Tobias knew he was being unfair - he hoped he was being unfair - but his thoughts were a mess. The sooner he hit the bunk, the better.

  “We will remember them,” Bagehot said. “And the mission was a success.”

  Marigold leaned forward. “How much damage did we do?”

  “Enough, we hope,” Bagehot said. “The planet itself was struck by BioBombs and hopefully devastated. The orbital industries got hammered. It will take months, if not years, to repair the damage and replace the destroyed nodes. The knock-on effects will be considerable. Their supply chains should be thoroughly disrupted.”

  Tobias nodded. He’d studied the topic in school. A shortage of anything - iron, for example - meant a shortage of anything that needed iron. There’d be a whole string of endless problems caused by the lack, all of which would be hard to solve until more iron was found ... he grimaced. It was hard to be sure just how much damage they’d done. Or how hard it would be for the virus to replace the losses. It was quite possible it wouldn’t take very long at all.

  He yawned, again. “Can we go to bed?”

  “That’s can we go to bed, sir?” Bagehot grinned. “Yes, go to your bunks. Hopefully, you should have at least a few hours of sleep before we find ourselves having to fight again.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Tobias managed. His teachers had never been quite so merciful. But then, the teachers hadn’t known their lives depended on Tobias’s ability to stay awake. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Sleep well,” Bagehot said. “I’ll sound the alarm if all hell breaks loose.”

  ***

  Susan felt, as the fleet crawled across the first system and transited into the next, as if someone was peering over her shoulder. It was hard to put it into words, certainly hard to put it into words someone would take seriously. She hadn’t felt quite so exposed since her schooldays, when there had been no hope of keeping her former classmates from realising that her skin was darker than theirs ... she scowled at the memory. She’d punched a boy out for peeking at her, many years ago. She had the sense she was being watched now, too.

  She spent fitful nights in her bed, then days on the flag deck alternatively watching the empty displays, running simulations and reading reports from her subordinates. The crews were being pushed to the limit, all too aware there’d be no safety until they made it back home. She wasn’t too surprised at the problem, although it hadn’t been anything like as bad on Vanguard. But then, the virus was a very different problem. Defeat meant the end of the world. She recalled, grimly, the proposals to flee the human sphere and set up a hidden colony somewhere on the other side of the galaxy. None of the proposals were remotely practical. If nothing else, the virus could simply follow them.

  But the virus isn’t as curious as we are, she mused. The reports suggested it had been a spacefaring entity for far longer than any of the other known races. If it had expanded at the same rate, it would have discovered Earth at roughly the same time Columbus had discovered America. It might never even realise we’d tried to flee.

  The thought tormented her as the days crawled onwards. They passed through two more systems, taking the time to launch ballistic missiles at the planets before proceeding again. Susan felt almost blasé about it now, even though she knew she was condemning millions of host bodies to death. The horror of what she’d unleashed was matched - and exceeded - by the sheer horror of the virus’s existence. She wanted another option - she wanted a solution that didn’t involve genocide - but she knew she didn’t have one. The virus could not be battered into submission. She wasn’t sure it could even be contained. The proposals to allow the virus to remain alive, infecting an unindustrialised world, struck her as thoroughly unpleasant. The virus would have to be allowed to keep a multitude of host bodies ...

  We know it can produce blobs and brains, she thought. Perhaps, if we deny it the host bodies, it will be forced to rely on them.

  She paced the decks, taking the time to explore the battleship even though - technically - she was supposed to remain on the flag deck. She just couldn’t stay still. She wished she could demote herself back to captain, to take command of a ship and set sail for the edge of explored space. She wished ... she put the thought out of her head. It wasn’t going to happen. The best she could hope for was collecting enough prize money to buy her own ship. That wasn’t likely to happen unless she somehow found herself in possession of an advanced alien starship. The prize money for that would ...

  The alarms howled. She jumped, then keyed her wristcom.

  “Report,” she snapped.

  “Admiral,” Richardson said. “Long-range sensors have detected alien starfighters on search vector.”

  Susan sucked in her breath. She’d felt as if someone was peeking at her. Had an alien ship shadowed them from the last system? It was quite possible one had, keeping the human ships in sensor range long enough to signal ahead for reinforcements. “Do they have us?”

  “Not yet, I think,” Richardson said. “But they’ll have solid locks on us within twenty minutes, at best.”

  “Understood,” Susan said. Her mind raced. Starfighters meant carriers ... somewhere far too close to her ships for comfort. “I’m on my way. Bring the fleet to alert status, but do not launch fighters.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Susan took a moment to compose herself, then stepped through the hatch and into the CIC. The main display teemed with red icons, the enemy starfighters darting around as they quartered space with active sensors. They were easy to spot, but she was morbidly certain there were stealthed or cloaked starfighters and starships in the empty space beyond. The enemy might not have gott
en a precise location on the human ships, not yet, but opening fire on the visible starfighters would reveal their exact position to any watching eyes.

  “Admiral,” Richardson said. “Our current projections indicate they’ll have us within ten minutes.”

  “They must have shadowed us from the last system,” Susan said. Her mind raced as she considered the possibilities. The enemy could have had a starship in the system, one with the presence of mind to keep an eye on the human fleet from cloak rather than expend itself in a futile attack. “They already have a rough idea of our position.”

  She frowned. The odds against the enemy having stumbled across them by accident were astronomical. They would have had to have a carrier - or more - in the vicinity, then ... she shook her head. No, they’d been spotted and shadowed until they’d been ambushed. It was sheer luck they hadn’t blundered right into a trap. The enemy shadow must not have clung too closely to them. Or the decoys had worked better than she’d thought.

  Her eyes narrowed. The enemy starfighters were drawing closer and closer. If the human fleet remained on its current course, it was going to be uncovered; if they risked altering course, there would still be a very good chance they’d be spotted. She considered, briefly, powering everything down and pretending to be a hole in space, but the enemy were just too close. If they filled space with active sensor pulses, they’d find her ships and blow them away before they could raise their defences and return fire.

  “We’re going to have to locate their carriers,” she said, grimly. There were no enemy bases within detection range. There had to be a carrier, probably more than one, holding station somewhere near. “Signal Lion. She is to prepare the gunboats for a search and destroy mission.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Richardson said.

  Susan keyed the terminal, bringing up a set of probability spheres. The starfighters had a strictly limited range. The virus probably had extension packs, and it might have decided to write the recon fighters off anyway, but the carriers had to be somewhere within the sphere. Unless, of course, the virus had come up with something new ... she narrowed the cone a little as she projected the starfighter flight paths backwards, trying to guess at their rough location. The carriers had to be cloaked. She’d have spotted them by now if they hadn’t hidden themselves.

  And the starfighters might have already found us, she mused. They could be playing dumb to lull us into a false sense of security.

  The enemy starfighters moved closer and closer. There was no sign they’d detected the human ships, yet the odds of detection were increasing by the second. Susan ran the simulations, again and again. She could take down the starfighters, at the price of revealing her exact location. And yet, it was just a matter of time before they were revealed anyway. The enemy were already closing in on them.

  She drew a line on the display. “Signal the lead escorts,” she ordered. “They are to fire on the starfighters when they cross the line.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Richardson said.

  “As soon as the starfighters come under fire, we are to bring up our active sensors and launch the gunboats,” Susan added. “I want a shell of recon drones in place, covering every possible angle of attack. Push two more along our direct course. The enemy carriers might well be lurking there.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  Susan felt her heart race as the enemy starfighters approached the line. It was hard to believe - it was impossible to believe - they didn’t know the human ships were there. They were almost taunting her, mocking her. And yet, they wouldn’t have been so fat and happy if they’d known ... unless, of course, the virus considered the recon starfighters expendable. It was quite possible, she supposed. Starfighters were cheap, compared to warships ...

  The display changed, sharply, as the enemy craft picked up speed and launched themselves right into the heart of her formation. Susan gritted her teeth as the escorts opened fire, picking off four enemy starfighters before they had a chance to realise they were under attack. The remainder kept coming, ducking and weaving through her formation instead of trying to attack her ships. They were picked off, one by one, but their deaths hadn’t been in vain. The virus knew where she was. Worse, it had a fairly complete list of her ships.

  And we still don’t know where their carriers are, she thought. They could be anywhere within the sphere.

  “Admiral,” Richardson said. “The gunboats are away. Drones are launching now ...”

  He bit off a curse as the display filled with red icons. “Enemy starfighters approaching on attack vector,” he said. “I say again ...”

  “I heard.” Susan shook her head. “Launch all starfighters on CSP duties. The gunboats can handle the search for the enemy carriers.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  Susan frowned as the enemy starfighters hurtled towards the fleet. The ambush hadn’t been timed perfectly, she supposed, but it had been done well enough to pin her before she spotted their carriers. There was no hope of avoiding action, not even if she reversed course. She had no idea what might be coming up behind her. The enemy had had more than enough time to contact the fleet she’d decoyed away, earlier, and order it to catch up and put a knife in her back. Captain Campbell couldn’t do anything about that.

  He might have gotten halfway to the RV point by now, Susan thought. She hadn’t been able to give him any specific timetable. It was quite possible that Captain Campbell would reach the RV point, wait a few days and then head to New Washington. His orders were clear. He was not to risk his ship if he had vital intelligence, intelligence the Admiralty would need to plot a final offensive. There’s nothing he can do to help us.

  She silently counted the alien starfighters, noting there had to be at least three carriers lurking somewhere nearby. Perhaps four ... she wondered, absently, if the virus had started converting freighters into makeshift carriers. The Royal Navy had a small fleet of freighters that could carry a couple of squadrons of starfighters, once they were refitted. The virus had probably seen them in action. If it hadn’t come up with the idea itself, it could easily have copied it ...

  “Admiral,” Richardson said. “The enemy starfighters are engaging ours.”

  Susan nodded, putting her thoughts to one side. The display looked like a demented game, with green and red icons dancing around, but she knew what it meant when one of the icons vanished. The alien starfighters were splitting into two groups, one concentrating on engaging the human starfighters while the other fell on the capital ships like wolves on sheep. These sheep were well-armed, Susan reflected, but there was no way they could avoid the starfighters. The enemy craft bored in, launching torpedoes as well as raking her hulls with plasma fire. The point defence couldn’t stop everything.

  And the closer the action, the harder it is to tell the difference between friends and enemies, she thought. Blue-on-blue incidents were a fact of military life, but they still hurt. No wonder they’re pressing us as hard as they can.

  Her people knew what to do. There was no point in giving orders. And yet ... she wanted to do something, anything, beyond watching as the damage started to mount. The enemy starfighters seemed intent on tearing through her formation, rather than concentrating on a handful of targets, but ... in the long run, she supposed it might work out for them. The damage would be spread out enough to slow the fleet, rather than force her to abandon a handful of ships to save the rest. She checked the live feed to Admiral Li’s flagship as the alien storm converged on Thunderous, just in case he had to take command at short notice. It should be fine ...

  “Admiral,” Richardson said. Red icons blinked into existence, right on the edge of the probability sphere. “We have located the alien carriers.”

  Susan frowned. The carriers were in position to block her, if she took a least-time course to the next tramline. That was odd. The enemy carriers didn’t seem to be assault carriers, let alone something akin to Ark Royal. They weren’t designed to stand in the line of battle. If she closed the rang
e, her battleships could tear them apart before they could escape. Either the enemy were stupid, which struck her as unlikely, or they had something else up their sleeve. Her eyes lingered on the space beyond the carriers. What could be hiding there?

  “Signal Lion,” she ordered. “The gunboats are to engage the enemy. Lion is to provide missile support upon demand.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Richardson said.

  Susan nodded, curtly. She was short of options. Closing the range would work, but she had no idea what might be lurking past the carriers. Opening the range would buy them some time, yet not enough to take out the enemy starfighters. The ambush, if indeed it was an ambush, had been better timed than she’d thought. The virus was either trying to lure her into a bigger mess or bluff her into leaving the carriers alone.

  The gunboats will take out the carriers, she mused. She frowned as the gunboats circumvented the alien starfighters, then lanced towards the carriers. And if there’s anything beyond them, they’ll see it too.

  ***