09- We Lead

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Reconfigure the point defence,” she snarled. They’d been caught by surprise, she had to admit, but she was damned if she was just letting them get a free shot at her hull. “And fire as soon as they enter weapons range.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Jean said.

  “Enemy craft are firing on the starfighters,” Parkinson said. He sounded shocked. “They’re mounting ship-grade plasma cannons!”

  Susan gritted her teeth as a dozen starfighters died. In hindsight, she suspected, there would be a great many questions as to why humanity hadn't thought of it first. Mating standard point defence cannons with a shuttlecraft, giving them ample firepower to drive right through a starfighter formation and blow it to hell ... she cursed the aliens under her breath, even as three alien shuttlecraft were blasted out of space. They’d changed the balance of power in a single savage engagement.

  Gunboats, she thought, darkly. The alien craft were still driving into the teeth of her formation. Behind them, she could see two more enemy formations lighting up their drives and coming forward. Why didn't we think of that?

  “Enemy craft entering point defence envelope,” Jean said. The icons started to blur until their exact position was no longer certain. “They’re deploying standard ship-mounted ECM!”

  “Reprogram the point defence to compensate,” Susan ordered.

  She felt sweat trickling down her back. That was, in many ways, a worse surprise. The gunboats weren't big enough to soak up more than one or two hits - they couldn't be heavily armoured if they were moving like starfighters - but if the point defence computers weren't entirely sure of their positions, they’d have to fire a dozen shots to be sure of killing a single gunboat. And, in the time it took to kill one, three more might have slipped through the defences and entered attack range.

  And they can even deploy their own point defence against our counter-missiles, she thought, angrily. The alien CO had done very well. She had no idea how much the gunboats cost, but she doubted they cost more than a battleship. The aliens would come out ahead if they exchanged a hundred gunboats for a single capital ship. They just turned the universe upside down.

  “They’re closing in on Formidable,” Parkinson reported.

  “Move us closer to provide cover,” Susan ordered. Formidable mounted formidable - her lips quirked - point defence, like all fleet carriers, but she wasn't anything like as heavily armoured as Vanguard. “Try to lure them on to us.”

  The aliens refused to be distracted. Susan gritted her teeth as seven gunboats raced towards the carrier, their point defence firing madly to keep the CSP away. Three vanished in tiny fireballs, picked off by the plasma cannons, but four survived long enough to fire their missiles into the carrier. Susan watched, horrified, as nine missiles slammed into Formidable, blasting through her armour and detonating inside her hull. The carrier staggered out of formation, plasma leaking from a dozen wounds ...

  “Captain Jones has ordered his crew to abandon ship,” Parkinson reported. “They ...”

  Too late, Susan thought.

  Formidable exploded, violently. Susan closed her eyes for a long moment, silently honouring her crew. She’d served on Formidable, years ago. The fleet carrier had been heavily armoured, but no armour in existence could have saved her. There hadn't been any time for her crew to get to the lifepods, which meant ... she shuddered. Two thousand men and women were now dead. She watched as the remaining gunboats were swatted out of space, knowing that the aliens had come out ahead.

  She clamped down on her emotions, hard. She’d mourn later. If there was a later.

  “Bunker Hill has taken heavy damage,” Charlotte reported. “Verdun has lost main power and ...”

  She broke off. “Verdun is gone, Captain.”

  “Signal from the flag,” Parkinson injected. “The fleet is to close up and prepare to repel attack.”

  Susan cursed under her breath as the second enemy wave came into range. Gunboats, over seventy of them. They didn't have any more surprises - she hoped - but it hardly mattered, not now. The task force had taken a beating - losing Formidable would make it harder to mount an effective CSP - and it wasn't over yet. If she was any judge, Vikramaditya would be the next target.

  “Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said. “The battleships are to cover Vikramaditya.”

  “Move us forward,” Susan ordered. She felt a flicker of bitter amusement. Vikramaditya was suddenly the most important ship in the task force. Theoretically, starfighters could be launched from shuttlebays; in practice, she knew it was impossible. Maintaining any sort of operational tempo would be hellishly difficult. “And prepare to repel attack.”

  She glanced at the status display, silently summing up their losses. Formidable and Verdun had been destroyed outright, both lost with all hands. Bunker Hill was badly damaged and unlikely to be able to continue, at least without major repairs; Yamamoto had lost a chunk of her armour, rendering her vulnerable if the enemy made another pass. Her only chance for survival was the simple fact that there were bigger targets within the task force that might draw enemy fire.

  And we could take out a hundred of their installations, she thought, bitterly. But we’d never be sure what we were actually targeting.

  “The analysts have finished reprogramming the point defence systems, Captain,” Mason said. “They think they can do more accurate targeting now.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Susan said.

  She studied the live feed from the analysts carefully, even though they were telling her things she didn't want to know about the enemy craft. The gunboats had been a very nasty surprise, one that had come close to beating the task force outright. Who would have expected ship-grade missiles mounted on such small craft? Starfighter torpedoes, even the latest versions, were nowhere near as powerful. It gave the aliens so many advantages that she hoped - prayed - that they were merely facing the first models. They had to get a warning back to the front lines before the gunboats started tearing their way through the defences and smashing onwards to Tadpole Prime.

  “They may have been building them here,” Mason said. “ES-13 is a long way from the front lines.”

  Susan hoped he was right. The Royal Navy did most of its secret research work in the Britannia System, rather than Sol, for the same reason. But she dared not assume that the enemy had hastily put their ships into active service when the task force had appeared in her rear. The attack had been too well planned for that. She rather suspected that the gunboats had been working up, in preparation for deployment to the front, before hastily being thrown into combat against her ships.

  Maybe that’s a good sign, she told herself. They wouldn't risk showing them ahead of time - knowing they could be decisive - unless they had no other choice.

  She studied the display as the second enemy formation advanced, the third following at a respectable distance. It looked as though the aliens hadn't known where they were until it was too late, although they definitely knew now. She was surprised they hadn't concentrated their forces, giving them a far greater advantage. Perhaps their commanders wanted to claim the credit for the kill ... she shrugged, tiredly. She'd take what she could get.

  “The flag is redeploying the starfighters,” Parkinson reported. “They’re advancing against the enemy.”

  Susan winced. Starfighter pilots had always annoyed her - disciplining them had been a nightmare when she’d been Commander Air Group on Formidable - but she knew the flyers were about to take heavy losses. The poor bastards knew what they were facing, now, yet they hadn't had any time to train. Hell, half their squadrons were shot to hell, pairing British and Indian flyers together in improvised formations. She wished, suddenly, that Admiral Naiser had kept Eisenhower with the task force instead. British pilots had spent far more time exercising with their American counterparts, instead of the Indians. They'd known they might have to fight the Indians ...

  She gritted her teeth as the starfighters converged on their targets, firing madly. The gunboats
had another advantage, one she hadn't appreciated until she saw their second formation engaging the starfighters. They could keep the starfighters dodging without altering course, trying their hardest to pick off the humans before they got into firing range and returned fire. It didn't quite render the starfighters useless, she acknowledged, but it limited them. And that was the last thing they needed.

  “Order the main guns to engage as soon as the enemy enters range,” she said. Her fingers danced across her console, forwarding the suggestion to Admiral Naiser. “We might get lucky.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Jean said.

  Susan watched, grimly. Flying too close to a heavy plasma bolt might just cause problems, even if the gunboats weren't hit directly. But they kept coming, regardless ...

  “They’re entering point defence range now,” Jean reported. “All ships are engaging.”

  “Switch to countering their missiles as soon as they open fire,” Susan said. The analysts seemed to think that each gunboat could only carry one missile. She was no starship designer, but she tended to agree. There had to be a point of diminishing returns. “And list any gunboat that does fire its missile as a secondary target.”

  The aliens swarmed forward, trying to reach Vikramaditya. There was nothing subtle about their tactics, no attempt to hide their final destination. Susan watched, knowing that matters were out of her hands, as the task force poured fire into the enemy formation, picking off dozens of gunboats as they tried to reach engagement range. A handful even fired at long range, clearly trying to launch their missiles before it was too late ...

  “Bunker Hill is gone, Captain,” Charlotte reported. “A lone gunboat rammed her.”

  “She must have triggered her missile at the last second,” Mason commented.

  Susan nodded, tightly. There would be time for a formal post-battle assessment afterwards, assuming they survived. Right now, the loss of an American cruiser was annoying, but hardly fatal. Vikramaditya had to be protected. And she knew, all too well, that the Foxes knew it too. Their third formation was already closing on the task force.

  “That’s the last of the second wave of gunboats,” Jean reported. “They made no attempt to escape, even after launching their missiles.”

  “Weakening our starfighter formations,” Mason growled. “We haven't taken losses like this since the First Interstellar War.”

  Susan nodded in grim agreement. The aliens might not succeed in destroying the task force, but in taking out Formidable and killing dozens of starfighters they had definitely weakened it. The repair crews were good, yet there were limits to how much they could do without a shipyard. It was possible, all too possible, that the offensive had just come to an untimely end. And if that were the case ...

  “The third formation is entering attack range,” Charlotte warned. “All ships are engaging.”

  Susan exchanged a grim look with Mason. It didn't look as though there were any more alien formations out there, but that couldn't be taken for granted. Even if there weren't, the task force had been badly damaged. Losing Formidable weakened their combat power ...

  She watched as the enemy gunboats hurled themselves on her ships. A German destroyer was blown out of space, followed rapidly by a Brazilian frigate. This time, the enemy commander seemed more intent on weakening the point defences than pushing through to Vikramaditya. It wasn't a bad tactic, she had to admit. Stripping the task force of its escorts would make taking it out easier ...

  “Incoming attack,” Charlotte snapped. “Five gunboats in attack formation.”

  “Swing point defence around to take them out,” Susan ordered. The remaining enemy ships were closing rapidly, readying their missiles. Maybe they thought the battleship would make an easier target. It would certainly be impossible to miss. And they were the last gunboats. “Engage the enemy!”

  “Enemy ships firing,” Charlotte said.

  “Point defence engaging,” Jean added. “Captain, missile locks are failing!”

  The entire ship shook, violently. Susan cursed out loud as half the consoles went blank, the remainder switching to emergency mode. The lights dimmed, then brightened. Her console flickered, red icons everywhere ...

  “Report,” she snapped.

  “We’ve taken major damage,” Mason reported. His voice was very flat. “Main power is gone!”

  We’re dead, Susan thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Just how bad is it?”

  “Bad, Captain,” Alan Finch said. The Chief Engineer looked badly shaken. “Three of the fusion cores have been totalled - one more is badly damaged, although still functional for now. We’ve been crippled.”

  Susan felt numb. Vanguard had been damaged before, but this ... this was far worse. They were hundreds of light years from the nearest friendly star, trapped in an alien system that had already proven its ability to hurt them. Her ship could limp along the tramlines, she thought, yet it wouldn't be hard for the aliens to hunt them down. Vanguard didn't have a hope of making it home before it was too late.

  She glanced into the engineering compartment. Dozens of engineers were scurrying around, opening hatches and removing damaged components. They looked industrious, but she knew - all too well - that they were only scratching the surface. Removing the power cores would be a far harder job. And, perhaps, one beyond them.

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  “Yes, given time,” Finch said.

  He tapped his console, bringing up a hologram of the drive section. “Two of the power cores can be dismantled in situ and removed, allowing us to replace them with units from the logistics ships,” he said. “I’d prefer to borrow one of King Edward’s power cores, but I suspect Captain Tolliver would object. Even if he didn't ... removing the core in a combat zone would be asking for trouble. Given time, it should be doable.”

  Susan met his eyes. “How long?”

  “If we work double shifts, and borrow some crewmen from the other ships, we should have it done in five to ten days,” Finch said. “We’ve practiced breaking down a core before, but our drills always left out the emergency. Really, Captain, I’d advise going to a shipyard if we could.”

  “We can't,” Susan said, bluntly.

  Finch nodded. “The second problem is the damage to the armour,” he added. “I’m going to have to buckle a replacement armour plate over the gash ... which will be a weak spot, if they know what they did to us. Even if they don't, optical sensors will pick up the patchwork on the hull. They'll know precisely where to target.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Susan said. She didn't have an answer, yet. Their only real hope was that the gunboats had been wiped out before they’d managed to report back to their superiors. “Right now, what can we do?”

  “We can crawl,” Finch said. “Captain, the remaining two power cores cannot produce enough power to let us fly and fight. We can cut power demands, to some extent, but we really need to replace one of the cores.”

  “Start now,” Susan said. It was going to be a nightmare. She knew it. “And work as fast as you can.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Finch said. “I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Beg whatever you need from Captain Tolliver,” Susan added. “And I’ll countersign any other requisitions you need to make.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Finch said.

  But we may still need to evacuate, Susan thought, as she strode through the hatch. Vanguard had been crippled. Her armour had absorbed blows that had killed a fleet carrier, but she’d still been crippled. And if that happens, we will have to abandon ship.

  She resisted - barely - the urge to sag against the nearest bulkhead. Vanguard had been damaged before, but this ... this was fatal. Or it would be, if the aliens managed to launch an attack before the repairs were completed. Maybe they could power the weapons - there were ways to cut all other demands - yet there was no way they could power the drive. Admiral Naiser might order her to abandon ship and transfer his flag to an
other battleship, rather than delay the advance any further. Vanguard would merely delay the rush to ES-12.

  And if Commodore Hoover has run into his own problems, she thought grimly, the entire operation might have failed.

  ***

  Over two thousand, five hundred dead, John thought.

  He sat in his cabin, wondering how Admiral Fitzwilliam had been able to endure the thought of losing so many men. The Anglo-Indian War had been genteel, almost, but no one had doubted that the Indians would have killed Theodore Smith if they could. And yet, the losses of that war paled in comparison to the First Interstellar War. He’d never been a fleet commander, not until now. Had he made a mistake by splitting the fleet? Or had he run into something he couldn't have hoped to anticipate?

  The gunboats were unpredictable, he told himself. But it wasn't very convincing. We should have seen them coming.