Tanya looked at him. “And when will that be?”
Geoff groaned. He didn't know. And even if he had known, he wasn't sure he’d be allowed to tell her. The USN took a dim view of reporters, particularly after a handful had been tried and executed for treason during the Crazy Years. He wasn't sure if Tanya knew that or not, but if she did she didn't seem to care. She’d already driven too many officers mad with her theory that the Pentagon had known about the Tadpoles years before Vera Cruz.
“I don’t know,” he said, finally. Perhaps one of the other officers would swap with him. Or perhaps he should just grovel in front of the XO. Taking a walk out the airlock was starting to seem a good idea. “I think they’ll be launched as soon as possible.”
“But there are only a handful of bombers left,” Tanya said. “Doesn't that mean they’re going out there to die?”
They’re going out there to defend a bitch like you, Geoff thought.
He didn't say it. Tanya would use it against the USN and he’d get the blame. The XO would not be amused, nor would the captain. By the time the shit reached him, it would have already covered everyone two or three steps up the rank chart. He’d be lucky if he was merely skinned alive.
“Yes,” he said, instead. “But they have to try. Everything depends on them.”
The display changed. Tanya leaned forward. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” Geoff said. What was it? “But I think we’re about to find out.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Interplanetary Space, Near Jupiter
“Activate the second set of pods,” Johan ordered.
“Aye, sir.”
Johan leaned back into his chair as the pods started to activate, launching their cargo into space. The whole concept had come out of a lab during the desperate search for something - anything - that might give human navies a fighting chance against the Tadpoles. It had never been deployed in combat before and might well never be deployed again. Too much could go wrong for the concept to work more than once.
They’ll know what we did the moment they see it, he thought. The Tadpoles hadn't had a chance to drop a hammer on his force before they recalled their starfighters, but they wouldn’t give him a second chance. And they won’t let us do it again.
“The pods have finished launching their cargo,” his aide said. “And the ECM platforms are standing by.”
“Switch them to cover mode,” Johan ordered. “And then prepare to fall back on Jupiter.”
“Aye, sir.”
He forced himself to relax. The die was cast. Either the aliens would be caught by surprise or they wouldn't. And then ... his detachment was too small to alter the outcome as the aliens converged on Home Fleet. They’d just have to watch and wait to see what happened.
And pray, he thought. There’s nothing else we can do.
***
The Combat Faction silently assessed the situation as the two fleets continued to close. Its starfighters had taken heavy losses, but so had the humans’. The Combat Faction still had an edge, particularly as the human capital ships could not escape engagement. It didn't look as if any of them were carrying mass drivers either. Surely, they would have started firing long ago if they had.
There is still the risk of being surprised, one faction insisted. We should not let them get any closer.
But pushing the offensive will bring us victory, another faction countered. Voices rose and fell as dozens of speakers switched sides. Let us break this force and then withdraw in victory.
The Combat Faction recalculated the odds, again and again. There was no way to deny that the humans had a slight numerical advantage, but it would count for nothing. Their carriers lacked heavy armour, antiship weapons and mass drivers. And their escorts lacked the weapons necessary to cover the carriers against the Combat Faction’s fleet. Victory would be costly - there was no point in trying to hide from that fact - but it would come.
We proceed, the Combat Faction announced.
New prospects raced through the Song. The humans would have to withdraw ships from the front, allowing other elements of the Combat Faction to push the offensive ... further weakening the human defenders. And then, another offensive against Earth. It would bring the humans down, allowing the last of their starships to be destroyed. And then ...
Well, that would have to wait until the end of the war.
***
“The alien fighters are regrouping,” Admiral Robertson commented. “And they’re out of our range.”
“At least we taught them respect,” Jon said. He glanced at the timer. “There’s no point in trying to retreat, of course.”
“None,” Admiral Robertson agreed. “Unless, of course, we wish to play Taffy-3 all the way back to Earth.”
Jon nodded. The battle could still go either way, but the sick feeling in his gut made him wonder if humanity was about to lose. A knife-range fight would be utterly disastrous for both sides, yet ... humanity would take the worst of it. Home Fleet just wasn't equipped for a confrontation that might as well have come out of the wet-navy battleship era.
At least they’re not that much better off, he told himself. We’ll claw them good before they destroy us.
“Try to open the range,” he urged. “We’ll need more time to fly bombers into the teeth of their fire.”
He tried to think of other options, but none came to mind. There were starfighters and bombers on Jupiter Station, yet there was no way to get them to Home Fleet. They were well out of range. The same could be said for the defenders of Mars or the starfighters they’d left behind at Earth. Home Fleet was on its own, facing an enemy force that seemed willing to accept mutual destruction. They might just have led their fleet to ruin.
“We will also need to order the starfighters to engage the enemy capital ships directly,” Admiral Robertson said. “And that will be costly too.”
The display flickered and updated. A stream of red icons altered course, falling on Home Fleet; a cloud of green and blue icons moved to meet them, looking pathetically inadequate against the alien storm. It wouldn't be long before the alien craft blew through the defences and attacked the carriers directly. And then ...
“Make it so,” he ordered, quietly.
He looked at the timer, again. There might just be enough time.
***
“Captain,” the tactical officer said. “I have the missile control links up and running.”
Svetlana allowed herself a moment of hope. She’d gone through one of the most intensive training courses in the solar system. She knew just how much could go wrong, particularly when they hadn't planned or trained for the manoeuvre. And yet, it looked as though they'd managed to pull the first stage off.
“Very good,” she said. There was no way they could use lasers to instruct the incoming missiles. They’d have to use radio ... and pray, desperately, that the aliens wouldn't notice until it was too late. She hadn't even had time to deploy a remote relay platform! “Have you set up the targeting matrix?”
“Aye, Captain.”
Svetlana exchanged a glance with Ignatyev. They were committed now ... no, they’d been committed the moment they received their orders. The Io Detachment had launched the missiles, hoping - believing - that Svetlana and her crew would be in position to guide them to their targets. She was damned if she would let them down now.
“Then relay the targeting matrix to the missiles,” she ordered. “And then order them to bring up their drives.”
She leaned back in her command chair, trying to ignore the sweat running down her back. It had seemed simple, when she’d received their orders. The missiles would be launched on ballistic trajectories, almost completely undetectable as long as the aliens didn't look for them with active sensors. Ideally, the alien ships would have impaled themselves on the missiles, but the human race hadn't been that lucky. Their steady acceleration would have removed them from the danger zone if they’d started earlier.
“Th
e missiles are coming online,” the tactical officer reported.
“Then bring up our drives and get us out of here,” Svetlana snapped. There was no point in trying to hide any longer. Even if the aliens had missed the radio transmissions, there was no way they could miss the missiles themselves. “Boost us right out of their range.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“They’ve seen them,” the tactical officer said. “But Home Fleet is already deploying its fighters to cover them.”
“Then keep us moving,” Svetlana ordered. The missiles no longer needed her. They could find their own targets, if their primary objectives were lost. “And deploy all of our remaining decoys.”
***
For far too long, the Combat Faction refused to accept what it was seeing.
Missiles. Missiles from behind the fleet. Missiles coming right at them, picking up speed at a terrifying pace. It wanted to believe that the missiles were more sensor ghosts, like the non-existent enemy fleet, but it couldn’t. The humans could not have created an ECM system capable of producing such an effect. If they had, they would have already won the war.
It struggled to determine a response as it realised that the human starfighters were spinning around, going on the offensive one final time. The conclusion was inescapable. The humans had trapped it, again. There was no way to deal with one threat without allowing the other to do real damage. And the combination of sensor ghosts and previous battle damage made it impossible to be entirely sure what it was facing.
This situation must be reassessed, it announced. The missiles were closing in now, preparing to detonate. It could not be allowed. The human fondness for bomb-pumped lasers had already proven far too costly. And yet, there was no way to prevent the missiles from detonating. We are trapped.
Then we must retreat, one sub-faction insisted. The battle is lost. But the war is not yet over.
Consensus was reached with striking speed. New orders flashed through the command network, instructing the fleet to alter course and beat a hasty retreat towards the nearest tramline. Other orders followed, directing the starfighters to cover their retreat. And ... a new awareness flashed through the Combat Faction as it detected a human starship far too close to the fleet. The human must have shadowed them for quite some time.
A flicker of admiration lingered in the Song for a long moment. The humans were remarkable. They were at a serious disadvantage, yet they still fought. The Combat Faction couldn't help but respect the human reluctance to give in to the inevitable. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could fend it off until it was no longer inevitable.
And then new orders were issued.
***
“Captain, they just locked sensors on our hull,” the tactical officer snapped. “Their starfighters are already closing in for the kill.”
“Target their carriers and open fire, all weapons,” Svetlana ordered. She doubted she’d do more than scratch their hulls, but it was better than doing nothing. Besides, the alien ships were already taking a beating from the missiles. “Engage the starfighters with point defence when they enter range.”
She forced herself to appear calm as the alien starfighters zoomed closer. Brezhnev was armoured, but not that armoured. There was no way her ship would stand up to the alien craft, once they opened fire. The only real hope was staying alive until the aliens had to break off and rejoin their motherships, but that wasn't likely to happen. Her family might even be pleased, she thought. She’d be feted as a hero, once she was dead. And she wouldn't be embarrassing them any longer.
“The enemy carriers are in full retreat,” the tactical officer added. “But their starfighters are entering attack range ... now!”
“Open fire,” Svetlana ordered. She keyed her console. “All hands, brace for impact!”
***
“They’re running,” Williams said.
“Concentrate on our orders,” Ginny snapped. The alien carriers were retreating, unless it was another trick. They were fast, damnably fast. It was easy to imagine them trying to loop around Home Fleet and race back to Earth. And yet, they’d been winning. There was no need to break off. “We have to save that ship!”
She forced herself to concentrate as the squadron raced towards the Russian ship. It was tiny, yet heavily armoured. The alien plasma bolts glanced off its armour, rather than burning their way into the ship. She felt a moment of hope, which died as she realised that the ship wasn't completely armoured. The aliens were slowly tearing her to shreds.
“Follow me,” she snapped.
The first alien pilot died before even realising he was under attack. Ginny barely noted his passing as she yanked her craft around, searching for the next target. The rest of her squadron followed her, driving the aliens off the Russian starship. Ginny couldn't help a moment of envy as she saw the scorched paint on her hull. An American destroyer - a modern American destroyer - would have been blown to flaming debris in the first pass.
“They’re breaking off,” Williams carolled. “I think we won!”
“Don’t jinx it,” Ginny snapped. The last of the alien starfighters turned and fled, hurrying back to its carrier. She fired a stream of plasma after it, but the tiny craft was already well out of range. “Remain focused on the issue at hand.”
She studied her HUD for a long moment. The alien carriers were picking up speed, heading straight for the tramline. It definitely looked as though they were running, as though they’d had enough. Their remaining starfighters were already being recovered. And yet ...
“Attention,” the dispatcher said. “All starfighters are to return to their carriers. I say again, all starfighters are to return to their carriers.”
“Understood,” Ginny said.
She suddenly felt very tired as she spun her starfighter around and gunned the engine, heading straight back to Enterprise. The carrier looked a mess, but she was intact. Ginny sucked in her breath as she saw the scorch marks on Enterprise’s hull, yet it was clear that the makeshift armour had actually stood up to the challenge. Damage-control teams were already going to work, sealing off the damaged areas and patching cracks in the hull.
“What a mess,” she muttered.
The landing deck was intact, thankfully. Ginny was surprised the aliens hadn't concentrated fire on it, although she supposed their plasma weapons were designed to pummel the main hull itself. They’d change their tactics, once they realised that humanity was armouring their hulls. She wondered, as the deck crew helped her out of her craft, just what that would mean for the future. Humanity might have won the battle, but had it won the war?
Williams met her on the far side of the hatch. “There’s a privacy tube just down the corridor,” he said. He lowered his voice, even though they were alone. “Do you want to join me?”
Ginny stared at him for a long moment. She was alive. She wanted to celebrate being alive. It was suddenly very hard to care about regulations. The thought of taking him to bed, of fucking him senseless ... it was tempting. She wanted to feel him inside her ... she wanted to feel alive, to feel that there was something beside an endless series of battles until her luck finally ran out ...
And yet ... she glanced at the wall-mounted display. The all-clear had already been sounded. They’d be expected to rest as Enterprise made her way back to Earth. God knew what they’d do after they made it home.
She smiled. “Why not?”
***
“We lost one drive unit and five pieces of armour,” Ignatyev reported. “Right now, we can barely make enough thrust to take us back to Earth.”
“Then set course for Earth,” Svetlana ordered. They were in no condition to continue the fight, even if the aliens hadn’t been retreating. Besides, she didn't want to push her luck any further. The damage could easily have been fatal. “And make sure you inform Home Fleet of our condition.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Svetlana smiled at him, then picked up her datapad. She’d have to write the report herself, just to m
ake sure it reached the right people without being tactically edited somewhere along the way. She didn't lack for enemies in the naval hierarchy ... hell, her family had plenty of political enemies. Someone would probably try to play down her achievement if she gave them half a chance.
And we ensured that the enemy fleet was driven off, she thought. It was a Russian achievement, one that couldn't be denied. She couldn’t help wondering if some of her enemies would prefer to throw the glory to the Americans or British rather than let her take the credit. But she had no intention of letting them bury her. There’s no way they can take that from us.
“Home Fleet is preparing to return to Earth too,” the communications officer said. “They’re offering us a tow.”
“No,” Svetlana said. She barely looked up from the datapad. The first reports would already be heading back to Earth. She’d have to get hers in quick before someone else took control of the narrative. “We can get back under our own steam.”
The Longest Day (Ark Royal X) Page 37