What would Churchill do? What would Thatcher do? What would Hanover do?
No, Andrew thought. Those Prime Ministers were long dead. What will I do?
But he knew, all too well, that he had no answer.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Interplanetary Space, Near Jupiter
Admiral Johan Wright was not pleased.
It was bad enough to be caught out of position when the alien fleet was detected, ensuring that the Io Detachment was unable to rendezvous with Home Fleet before it moved forward to drive the aliens away from Earth. But it was far worse to be grimly aware that the titanic mass of the alien fleet was heading straight towards Jupiter, forcing him into a battle against overwhelming odds. The Io Detachment had three escort carriers and thirty frigates, stacked against ten fleet carriers and fifty-seven smaller ships. It was true, Johan knew, that some of the alien carriers were damaged. He doubted they were damaged anything like enough to give his formation a fighting chance.
“Start deploying pods,” he ordered. The tension in the CIC was so thick he could cut it with a knife. His personnel had been watching the aliens crawling towards their position for hours. “Prepare to activate them on my signal.”
He gritted his teeth as he looked down at his dark hands. Surprise and unconventionality would be the order of the day, the only thing that would keep his ships and crew from a very short and exciting life. In an ideal world, he would have fallen back on the Jovian mass drivers and dared the aliens to follow him, but there was too much junk floating around the gas giant for him to have any hope of scoring enough hits to matter. Besides, the aliens could sit outside his engagement envelope and start firing KEWs at the cloudscoops. It would only take one hit to smash a fragile cloudscoop beyond repair.
And Admiral Winters has a plan, he thought. It might just work.
“Pods deploying now, sir,” his aide said. “The engineers report they need at least ten minutes to get all the pods out into space, then activate the control links.”
“Tell them they’ve got five,” Johan said. The alien ships were growing closer. It wouldn't be long before they detected his ships, if they hadn't already detected them. God knew they had no reason to change course, even if they did know he was waiting for them. The chance to smash an isolated detachment was worth a certain amount of risk. “And activate the control links in seven minutes, regardless of the deployment status.”
“Aye, sir,” his aide said.
Johan nodded, curtly. Jupiter’s mini-system of moons and asteroids had been heavily colonised, once the human race had started expanding into outer space. There were over five million men, women and children living on a handful of moons and orbital installations, along with a significant industrial base. They’d hunkered down as best as they could, according to the last set of reports, but he had no illusions about what would happen if the aliens rampaged through the defences and attacked the colonies themselves. Even Ganymede, the most habitable of Jupiter’s moons, was far from terraformed. It would be centuries before she could support life outside the domes.
And there will be no place to hide if the aliens claim the high orbitals, he thought. That would be the end.
The aliens were coming closer, their fleet carriers fanning out as they launched a new flight of starfighters. They’d been playing games for the last two hours, increasing and then reducing their speed as the whim struck them. Johan wasn't sure if the aliens were hesitating, uncertain if they wished to proceed, or if they were just tormenting their human enemies, but it hardly mattered. They'd still have plenty of time to destroy his fleet and ravage the human colonies before Home Fleet caught up with them.
And then they could accept or avoid action as they pleased, he thought, sourly. They could force Home Fleet to chase them all over the solar system.
It was a galling thought. Home Fleet was the most powerful formation the human race had ever produced, yet the wear and tear on its hulls and personnel was undeniable. The longer the chase continued, the weaker Home Fleet would become ... a problem made worse by inventory shortages because no one had seriously planned for a full-scale war. In the future, he promised himself, he’d make damn sure the politicians didn't forget just how close humanity had come to defeat. A strong defence rested on more than just starships and starfighters.
Assuming we win, he reminded himself. This could end very badly.
The console chimed. “The majority of the pods have been deployed,” his aide reported, slowly. “Primary control links are going active ... now.”
“Tie in the secondary control links as soon as the primary network is up and running,” Johan ordered. The risk of being detected would go up sharply, but it was a gamble they had to take. Besides, the aliens had an excellent chance of detecting them anyway. “Time to certain detection?”
“Nineteen minutes,” the aide said.
“Prepare to activate the first set of pods,” Johan ordered. “On my mark ...”
He braced himself. The aliens had to be surprised. And yet, the closer they came, the greater the chance of pushing them into doing something stupid ... assuming, of course, they didn't detect his ships first. The timing was everything. He’d run through a hundred simulations over the last few hours, but none of them had been very illuminating. There were too many factors that were outside his control. War was a democracy. The enemy got a vote in proceedings too.
And we can’t limit their options too much, he thought, grimly. They can break contact any time they like.
“Activate,” he snapped. Most of the pods were in space. They might have a chance to deploy the remainder before the aliens recovered themselves. Even if they didn't, the aliens were still going to get one hell of a fright. “And then prepare to activate the second set of pods!”
“Aye, sir,” the aide said. He ran his hand down the console. “Pods going active ... now!”
“Launch fighters,” Johan ordered. “And remind them that this is not the time to seek engagement.”
“Aye, sir.”
***
The Combat Faction flinched.
There really was no other word for it. One moment, space ahead of them had been empty; the next, space was filled with twelve human fleet carriers and a multitude of smaller warships. A handful of starfighters were already deployed, sweeping space ahead of them; the remainder, no doubt, were already readying themselves for deployment. The fleet was caught between two fires.
Reverse course, the Combat Faction ordered. It was hard to focus, but it had to be done. And launch starfighters.
The analysts hastily updated their assessments. Two human fleets ... the fleet might prevail against one, but the other human fleet would be in a perfect position to crush the invasion force. Indeed, the timing had been almost perfect. If the fleet didn't manage to evade, the two human forces would unite and bring their superior firepower to bear.
Attack wings will assault Force Two, the Combat Faction ordered. It wasn't perfect, but it was their only hope. Crushing Force Two was probably beyond them - at least without Force Two crushing them in turn - but they could cripple its carriers. It might just give them a chance to either spar with Force One or break off and escape to the tramline. Defence wings will prepare for counterattack.
The Song wavered as dissent washed through the factions. Some factions and sub-factions wanted to break off the engagement immediately. Their arguments were compelling, the Combat Faction agreed, but based on wishful thinking. The humans had a massive firepower advantage, all of a sudden. There was no way they would not push their advantage while it lasted. Escape would be difficult, if not impossible. Human starfighters would harry them all the way back to the tramline.
The attack wings must push the attack as hard as possible, the Combat Faction said. The first starfighters flew out of their carriers and launched themselves towards Force Two. Force One was already picking up speed, but their timing was off. And then return to their motherships.
There was a momen
t of relief as more and more starfighters piled out into open space. The timing had been good, but not good enough. There was still a chance to win, to inflict horrendous damage on the human fleets. Taking out half of their carriers would practically guarantee overall victory. And if it came at the cost of the entire fleet ...
The war can still be won, the analysts agreed. And we must press our advantages as hard as possible.
***
“The enemy fleet is launching starfighters,” the tactical officer said. “They’re flying straight towards the Io Detachment.”
Svetlana nodded. The display was showing a massive fleet bearing down on the enemy ships. She knew the ships didn't exist and yet her sensors insisted they did. It was something to contemplate, later. Brezhnev’s sensors had been upgraded repeatedly in the days after Vera Cruz, although she'd always been on the bottom of the priority lists. And yet, they were being spoofed. Svetlana would have to warn her relatives about that, when she returned home. The Americans had clearly made a major breakthrough in ECM.
“Alert Home Fleet,” she ordered. Home Fleet would probably see the launch for themselves, but it paid to be sure. “And inform them that we are ready for phase two.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Svetlana gripped her command chair, bracing herself. Too much could go wrong - or go right - in the next hour. Even if everything went perfectly, there was too great a chance of being detected and blown away. And then ...
You wanted to sit in the command chair, she reminded herself. And you got it. Stop complaining and get to work.
***
“The enemy ships have launched starfighters,” Jon noted. “Well called.”
“They’ll see through the deception sooner rather than later,” Admiral Robertson said. “The question is just how much time it will take.”
Jon nodded, shortly. The latest ECM - straight from Area 51 - had been designed, but not yet put into production before the war had begun. That was a stroke of luck - the analysts assumed the Tadpoles would have studied the remains of destroyed human starships, giving them insights into humanity’s technological development - yet getting some of the drones into service had been a nightmare. Hell, the vast majority of the drones had been given to Ark Royal shortly before she left the Solar System. The remainder had been assigned to Home Fleet.
“We launch in two minutes,” Admiral Robertson said. “And then we kick their asses.”
Let us hope so, Jon thought.
Admiral Robertson smiled. “Do you want to address the fleet?”
Jon shook his head. He had no doubt that someone would put a rousing speech in his mouth, when the official accounts of the battle gave way to telemovies and original fiction, but there was no point in making a speech now. The crews knew what was at stake. They knew what had to be done. And they didn't need a pompous ass in an admiral’s uniform distracting them from their duty.
“No,” he said. “Give them hell.”
Admiral Robertson raised his voice. “All fighters, launch,” he said. “I say again, all fighters launch!”
***
“Go, go, go!”
Captain Ginny Saito gritted her teeth as her starfighter blasted out of the launch bay, followed by hundreds more. Her HUD updated, time and time again, as new alerts flashed through the network, keeping her aware of what was going on. Enterprise’s fighter wings were already forming up into their strike groups, but the ramshackle squadrons were finding it harder to get organised. Ginny wasn't too surprised. The hasty reorganisations hadn't given her any time to get to know the pilots under her command, let alone take them through the simulations.
“Form up on me,” she ordered. She was relieved she’d managed to keep Lieutenant Williams. The other survivors from her original squadron had been parcelled out to fill holes elsewhere. “Prepare to engage.”
She felt a cold smile form on her face as her starfighter picked up speed. The aliens had been tricked into sending most of their starfighters towards the Io Detachment, leaving their hulls largely undefended. They must have panicked, she thought. A more rational commander might have settled for altering course and trying to evade both human fleets. But then, having no less than twenty-three fleet carriers bearing down on them had to be more than a little intimidating.
Should have taken the chance to get laid after all, she thought. It might have been the last time.
The alien carriers were coming closer, their escorts swinging about to cover their hulls. She could see just how neatly the aliens had been trapped in a dilemma. If they recalled their starfighters, they’d be chased all the way back to their carriers ... except they wouldn't be, because those twelve fleet carriers didn't exist. What choice would she make, she asked herself? She thought she’d recall her starfighters, even knowing the risks.
“Engagement in two minutes,” the dispatcher announced. The alien CSP was moving to challenge the bombers, ignoring the starfighters. It was about the only move they could make, Ginny thought, but it was going to cost them. “Group One, target the carriers; Group Two, target the smaller ships; Group Three, engage the enemy starfighters.”
“You heard the man,” Ginny said. “On my mark, break and attack.”
Her HUD flashed up an alert as the alien frigates opened fire. The odds of scoring a hit were minimal, but they were spewing out one hell of a lot of fire. Their starfighters opened fire a second later, forcing the bombers to fall out of formation and snap into evasive action. Ginny felt her heart twist in pain as four bombers vanished, picked off by the enemy craft. She pushed the thought aside as she opened fire herself, scattering the enemy starfighters. They recovered quickly and came after her.
“Your target is Alien #45,” the dispatcher said. “Good luck.”
“Noted,” Ginny said. “All starfighters, follow me.”
The alien frigate grew larger and larger on the display as the starfighters closed to attack range. Her HUD painted an odd picture, a starship that looked oddly melted. And yet, there was no mistaking the sheer number of plasma guns on its hull. The only saving grace was that the frigate didn't seem to have the ability to shoot plasma from anywhere on its hull.
“Fire at will,” she ordered, switching her guns to automatic fire. “Give them hell.”
She yanked her starfighter through a series of unpredictable movements as her guns opened fire, pounding the alien hull. The aliens, unsurprisingly, had armoured their starships - they'd known what they might be facing - but they couldn’t protect their weapons and sensor blisters from being blown off the hull. Worse, their craft was too small for an inner layer of armour that would provide additional protection. Ginny couldn't help a savage whoop as plasma bolts dug deep into the alien hull, giving them - finally - a taste of their own medicine. It was all she could do to break away before the craft exploded into a ball of superhot plasma.
“Target destroyed,” she said. An alien starfighter lunged towards her and she blew it away without a second thought. “I say again, target destroyed.”
“Noted,” the dispatcher said. “The enemy starfighters are returning.”
Ginny nodded, curtly. She flew straight for a long second, just long enough to assess the situation. Home Fleet’s starfighters had given the aliens one hell of a beating; one of their carriers had been destroyed, while two more were badly damaged. And their starfighters were still out of position. They’d be tearing into the human craft in a few minutes, but ...
“Regroup on me,” she ordered. Three of her pilots were dead. She couldn't help a pang of guilt. She’d never met them in person. She hadn't even seen their deaths. They were faceless ... she pushed the thought aside, grimly. There would be time to mourn later, if there was a later. “Prepare to cover the retreating bombers.”
The aliens were pissed, she thought, as she angled her starfighter to block the alien advance before they could reach the bombers. They came straight at her, firing savagely as they darted from side to side. She was surprised that none of them tri
ed to turn the encounter into a dogfight, even though it would have given them the upper hand. A dozen enemy starfighters died, but the rest blew through and hurled themselves on the bombers. They didn't seem to care about their own lives as long as they could take out a bomber or two before they died.
She swung her starfighter around and blasted two alien craft in the back. Their wingmen altered course, dropping into an evasive pattern that remained focused on the bombers. It looked as though they were ready to chase them all the way back to their carriers, she noted absently. Perhaps they were. Alien starfighters could tear their way through a human carrier like paper, if they wished.
“Keep hounding them,” she ordered. Another alert blinked up on her HUD, informing her that she’d just lost another pilot. “Don’t let them have a free hand!”
The Longest Day (Ark Royal X) Page 35