The Longest Day (Ark Royal X)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Cover the remainder of the bombers,” the dispatcher ordered. New updates flooded into her system. She gritted her teeth in annoyance as she realised the dispatcher was trying to update on the fly. It wasn't the smartest thing to do when there was a good chance that some of her new subordinates would die in the next few minutes. “And then get back to Earth.”

  “Understood,” Ginny said. The Tadpole starfighters didn't seem inclined to break off the pursuit. “We’ll get right on it.”

  Her body ached as she pushed her starfighter back into the fire. It felt like hours since the engagement had started, hours in her cockpit ... she wondered, suddenly, if she should take a booster. She was pushing her body to the limits. But she knew better than to take them if there was any other choice. An hour or two in the quick-sleep machine would be lovely, but ... she shook her head as her craft started to gain on the alien starfighters. She just didn't have time.

  And we’ll be facing worse, once the aliens regroup, she thought. She took a quick sip of juice as she targeted the nearest alien craft. If they weren't mad at us before, they sure as hell are mad at us now.

  ***

  The Combat Faction seethed with cold annoyance as the Song rose and fell. It hadn't expected a bloodless conquest, but losing two fleet carriers to inferior ships was ... frustrating. The damaged carriers were in no state to recover and rearm starfighters, let alone launch them back into the fray. Worse, they could barely keep up with the remainder of the fleet. Once the humans realised they were sitting ducks, their mass drivers would be turned on them. They had yet to be silenced.

  It contemplated a number of options, one by one. Pushing the offensive against Earth would wreck the remaining infrastructure, as well as letting them take shots at bases and industrial nodes on the ground. But the human fleet was already reforming. The Combat Faction didn't want to be trapped against the wretched planet. The humans had some planetary defences. Maybe not as dangerous as their mass drivers, but dangerous enough to give the faction pause.

  And yet ... the other possibilities weren't much better. It was starting to look as though actually taking the system was no longer an option, certainly not without expending too much of the fleet. That was a significant problem.

  If the first objective can no longer be met, one sub-faction said, we should attempt to meet the second.

  The Combat Faction could not disagree. Punching its way through to Earth would be satisfying, but of limited value. The human fleet would either force them into an engagement or remain intact, giving the humans options for retaliation. That fleet was now the main target. It had to be destroyed before the Combat Faction withdrew from the system.

  Complete the destruction of the orbital installations, it ordered. Starfighters could do that, if nothing else. Long-range kinetic strikes would make life harder for the defenders. It wasn't something they’d prepared to do, but it was time to be a little adaptable. And then prepare to meet the enemy fleet ...

  A shock ran through the command network as a mass driver projectile slammed into one of the crippled carriers. The giant starship disintegrated, plunging its surviving personnel into space. A handful of starfighters tried to locate survivors, but found none. Exposure to naked vacuum was almost always fatal.

  Continue with the offensive, the Combat Faction stated. It had expected to lose the cripples, but that didn't make it any easier. And order the detached squadrons to increase speed.

  ***

  “Scratch a third flattop, sir,” Captain Mike Hanson said. He sounded pleased. “The mass drivers on the moon scored a direct hit!”

  “On one of the cripples,” Jon said. There was no way to be sure, but long-range sensors had definitely suggested that the crippled carriers were hors de combat. They hadn't been trying to surrender, unfortunately, but they hadn't been launching or recovering starfighters. “But a good shot, none the less.”

  He pushed his sour thoughts aside as he contemplated the losses. His bomber crews had paid a staggering price for their success, losing nearly a fourth of their number. They’d lose more too, he was sure, when they launched the next strike. He didn't have any more missile pods he could deploy to cover their backs. The only good news was that the new ECM drones mixed in with the missiles seemed to have worked. The alien craft had been distracted long enough to let the bombers slip into attack range.

  Better we lose the bombers than the remaining installations, he thought. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but bombers were relatively cheap. Replacing the craft and their pilots wouldn't be that tricky. Or let them start dropping rocks on Earth.

  He’d done his best not to watch the updates from the surface, but he knew it was bad. Pieces of debris had fallen everywhere, despite the best efforts of his people. He’d refused to look at the live reports from San Francisco, let alone the rest of the west coast. Giant tidal waves had been pounding the coastline ever since the first piece of debris had hit the ocean. It would only get worse, even though the ground-based defences were doing better at taking out the really dangerous rocks.

  “Admiral, their lunar squadron is entering attack range,” Hanson added.

  Jon nodded. The mass driver installations on the lunar surface had their orders. They knew what to do.

  And they’ve plenty of experience by now, he thought, numbly. They’re going to need it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luna Defence Installation #17/Sin City, Luna

  “They're coming into attack range, sir,” Lieutenant Adam Selene said. He looked far too young for his role - his brown hair made him look as if he hadn't left his teens - but people grew up quickly on the moon. “Orders?”

  Commander Garcia O’Kelly nodded, curtly. He’d always assumed - the Luna Federation had always assumed - that they’d have to assert their independence against the Great Powers. It would have been a nightmare - the network of independent settlements on Luna were matched by dozens of settlements belonging to the Great Powers - but they’d been prepared to fight. They’d built something new on the moon, a melting pot of settlements that had flourished away from the semi-fascism of Earth. The idea of actually fighting beside the Great Powers had never crossed anyone’s mind until the Battle of New Russia.

  “Switch targets,” he ordered. The alien squadrons were the real threats now. Hitting a carrier was all very well and good - he was fairly sure his crews had scored the direct hit - but far too many of the nearby settlements were easy targets. The aliens were probably madder than a taxman from Earth after discovering that the Luna Federation felt no obligation to share its tax records with anyone else. “Prepare to open fire.”

  “Targets locked,” Selene said.

  Garcia smiled, grimly. The closer the aliens came, the easier the shot - and the harder it would be for them to take any kind of evasive action. They were running their ships through a series of evasive manoeuvres, even though the mass drivers hadn't tried to engage them yet, but they weren't altering their courses that much. Taking them down should be relatively easy.

  Of course, they’ll be firing back at us too, he thought. That might get interesting.

  “Fire,” he ordered.

  He heard the mass driver thrum as it launched the first projectile towards the alien ships, followed by three more in quick succession. The mass drivers were designed for rapid fire, allowing the Luna Federation to impede travel between Earth and Luna if necessary. Indeed, the facility had practically been shut down before the war had started ... he wished, suddenly, that the plans to build entire fortresses on the lunar surface had been put into production. The mass driver was far too fragile for his peace of mind.

  “The enemy ships are launching missiles,” Lieutenant Tracy Combs reported. Her black hair fell over pointed elfin ears as she glanced at him. “Half of them appear to be targeted on the defence stations, the remainder appear to be targeted on signal sources and settlements.”

  They must have some rough idea where our settlements are, Garcia thought, as the display up
dated. There were a handful of point defence stations scattered around the surface, but not enough to take down all of the missiles. They probably probed the system before showing themselves.

  “Direct hit,” Selene called. “One of the cruisers has been blown to shit!”

  Garcia smirked. All of the mass driver stations were shooting now, throwing hundreds of rocks into a relatively small region of space. As he watched, another alien craft vanished from the display. He slapped his fist into his palm in silent exultation. He’d wondered, when the news first came in from Vera Cruz, if the Great Powers had done something to offend the aliens. They certainly didn't bother to show any consideration to any of the minor powers in the human sphere. But now ... humanity had to stand together or die ...

  “Direct hit, Runnymede Colony,” Tracy reported.

  “Shit,” Garcia muttered. He had no idea what sort of weapons the aliens were using, but the vast majority of colonies were alarmingly fragile. A nuke would be more than enough to do real harm. “Pass the alert up the chain.”

  He watched as another alien craft exploded, the crew blasted to dust before they realised what had hit them. The Luna Federation had plans to assist colonies that ran into trouble, but they’d never prepared for anything on such a scale. How could they have? He doubted it would be particularly safe to move around on the surface, at least for a little while. The aliens seemed to be targeting signal sources in particular.

  A pity we didn't know that in advance, he thought. We could have covered the entire surface in radio transmitters.

  “Mycroft reports three alien craft heading for farside,” Tracy added. “Central Command is asking us to adjust our targeting.”

  “See to it,” Garcia ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” Selene said. “I ...”

  The ground shook. “Impact, one kilometre away,” Tracy reported. Her face paled as she worked her console. “I think it was a nuke, sir, but it was embedded in the soil when it detonated.”

  “Probably a penetrator warhead,” Garcia said. The alien targeting seemed to have gone funny, unless they’d thought they were aiming at a hidden installation. There was nothing closer to the blast zone than themselves. “They might have thought they’d trigger off an earthquake and take out the base.”

  “Perhaps, sir,” Tracy said. She swore, loudly. “Sir, they’re striking at Rivendell!”

  Garcia winced. He’d been to Rivendell a couple of times - the founders had been far too obsessed with Middle-Earth for his peace of mind - but Tracy had grown up there. It was a minor miracle she’d escaped with such a normal name, unless she’d changed it once she left the colony. Perhaps she had. The Luna Federation rarely cared what its citizens did unless it presented a clear and present danger to everyone else. But she had kept the ears ...

  “Warn them,” he said. Rivendell rarely paid much attention to the outside world, but even they knew there was a war on. Didn't they? “And then alert the point defence.”

  He turned his attention back to the display, just in time to see the alien craft launch yet another spread of missiles. Their targeting was getting better, he noted, or perhaps they were just throwing everything they had at the mass drivers. They probably wanted to suppress them before it was too late ...

  “Direct hit, Rivendell,” Tracy said. Her voice was broken. “They used a nuke.”

  “Concentrate,” Garcia snapped. He didn't have time to let her have a breakdown, even though he understood. God knew he wouldn't have reacted well if his parents and childhood friends had been killed. “Cry later!”

  Tracy glared at him, then looked down at her console, tears running down her cheeks. “New targets,” he said. “Molina, Balamory and ... and Sin City.”

  “That’ll piss everyone off,” Selene predicted.

  “Pass the warning,” Garcia said. He didn't think Sin City was heavily defended, even though it was a wretched hive of scum and villainy. “Tell them ... tell them to take cover.”

  ***

  “How long do we have to stay here?”

  “Good question,” Brian said. It had been nearly two hours since they’d entered the shelter, shortly before the hatches had slammed closed. He wanted to scold Abigail for asking questions he couldn't answer, but she was doing better than most of the others. Half of them jumped at the slightest sound, while the others seemed inclined to try to open the door and escape. “I don't know.”

  He glared down at his terminal. Sin City’s datanet wasn’t that advanced, compared to the datanet on Earth, but whoever had designed it had made the system damn near impossible to crack. Nothing he did seemed to work. It made perfect sense - anyone who did hack the system would have access to the security cameras, allowing them to cheat at cards or spy on guests - but it was frustrating as hell. Anything could be happening out there and he wouldn't know about it.

  Not until it is far too late, he thought, grimly. Anything could be happening out there.

  He glared at the hatch, then back at his terminal. He’d wondered if Abigail’s former employer had somehow triggered the emergency alert, just to trap them, but so far it seemed unlikely. The Luna Federation had strong laws against crying wolf. Chief Clancy Patel and his men would arrest anyone stupid enough to trigger the alarms deliberately, just so the Management could make a horrible example out of them.

  “Perhaps there’s been an air leak,” one of the other people offered. He was a young man, alcohol on his breath. “The entire colony could be in vacuum by now.”

  Brian shook his head, curtly. The telltales on the near side of the hatch were still glowing green. There was air - breathable air - on the far side. Besides, Sin City would have the same precautions built into its tunnels as every other colony on the moon. An air leak would have been detected: hatches would have slammed down and emergency crews would have been dispatched. Hell, most children received training in how to patch tiny air leaks at school; adults got far more intensive training. He couldn't imagine something that couldn't be fixed quickly that hadn't taken out most of the colony.

  He stared at the hatch, then at the collection of emergency equipment and supplies. They could get out, if they wished, but what would they find? He had no idea. Perhaps there had been a terrorist attack or an armed robbery, although he couldn't imagine either getting very far. There had never been a terrorist attack on the moon - even when the Luna Federation was girding itself to stand up to the Great Powers - and armed robbers would run right into one of the most well-organised private security forces on the moon. Brian had no difficulty imagining what he might want to steal, but securing it and getting out would be damn near impossible. Perhaps there was a hostage situation ...

  Abigail caught his arm. “How long do we have to stay here?”

  “I don’t know,” Brian said, as patiently as he could. It was hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. He’d prefer to be on the way himself, but that was clearly impossible. “Perhaps if you could ...”

  His terminal bleeped, loudly. An alert flashed up, warning of incoming attack. Brian gaped at it in honest shock. Incoming attack? From where? The Luna Federation? The Great Powers? He scrolled through the alert, then swore. The entire solar system was under attack!

  “That’s impossible,” one of the guests said. He was a heavyset man, wearing a shirt that was a size too small for him. “The aliens wouldn't attack Earth, would they?”

  “It seems as though they are,” Brian said. He kept his voice calm, even though part of his mind was panicking. He knew from bitter experience that panic was contagious. “We’re in the shelters. We should be safe.”

  Unless they start throwing nukes at us, his thoughts added, silently. He told that part of his mind to shut up as he tried, once again, to break into the local datanet. Next time - if there was a next time - he’d ask his friend for security clearance. We wouldn't know what hit us until it was far too late.

  He forced himself to think as he paced the shelter, checking the emergency supplies. Sin City wasn't
a military target. He hadn't heard anything to suggest that the aliens went after non-military targets, although it was possible they wouldn't know Sin City was a civilian installation. But there were no weapons mounted on the colony, he thought. Sin City probably had laser installations - most colonies did, in case there was a runaway shuttle - yet the aliens probably wouldn't notice them unless they opened fire.

  Which they might, if the surface is attacked, he thought, numbly. The Luna Federation was supposed to have linked all the ground-based installations together.

  Abigail caught his eye. “What does it mean if the system is attacked?”

  Brian shrugged. “It depends on the outcome,” he said. He turned to face her. “We might get out of here, only to discover that the system had been occupied. Or ...”

  Another alert flashed up on his terminal. IMPACT IMMINENT. Brian stared at it for a long moment, then shouted at everyone to get down on the ground. The aliens were attacking Sin City? It was impossible, yet ... yet it was happening. Abigail hit the ground next to him, then caught hold of his hand. He hesitated, then let her hold his hand as the terminal started to bleep louder and louder. Someone whimpered, a second before the ground heaved. The lights dimmed, then recovered. A low quiver ran through the shelter, then nothing.