09- We Lead

by Christopher Nuttall

  ES-11 slowly revealed its secrets as Black Hunter crawled into the system. A heavily-defended - and populated - planet, a gas giant that was used as a fuel source as well as a secondary set of habitats ... and a hundred or more asteroid settlements that hadn't been included on the captured files. Somehow, George wasn't surprised. The Royal Navy’s charts of Sol, Terra Nova and even Britannia were permanently out of date. Asteroids were so easy to settle - and the dwellers rarely bothered to wait for permission - that new ones sprang up every year. Oddly, it made the Foxes seem more human.

  And for all I know, she thought, the Tadpoles have the same problem.

  The timer pinged. “The fleet should be crossing the tramline now,” Sammy warned, as Major Andres entered the command deck. “They’ll be detected.”

  “Unfortunately,” Major Andres agreed. “Let me know if they have new orders for us.”

  George felt a hot flash of resentment, mixed with grim understanding. Major Andres was used to taking command - and used to thinking of her as an unwanted tagalong. Maybe she was, technically, the senior naval officer on Black Hunter. In practice, he wouldn't think of her as his commander ... and there was no way she could put him in his place. And really, she didn't blame him. Normally, the billet would have been passed to a lieutenant.

  “They may expect us to help search for the fleet,” she said, instead. “And if that happens, we’re going to have to decline.”

  She turned her attention to the display, wondering just how far they could take their impersonation. The Royal Navy wouldn't allow any starship to enter orbit without making sure of the newcomer’s bona fides, even though most people assumed that aliens couldn't pass for humans without making all sorts of mistakes. Did the aliens know they’d lost a starship? Did they think Black Hunter had been blown out of space? Had Black Hunter’s consorts managed to get a warning off before it was too late? Or did they merely believe that the squadron had managed to escape certain death?

  We’re about to find out, she thought.

  In a time of war, she doubted she could fly the lone survivor of a powerful squadron into the Sol System without having to answer some very hard questions. What had happened to the other ships, for a start. The Royal Navy - and the other human navies - had procedures to ensure that a surrendered starship was useless to her captors, but human error could easily lead to a ship being captured intact. And the Foxes, coming to think of it, had reason to be far more careful. They knew their captured personnel could - and would - switch sides, if captured. George had no idea how the Foxes managed to survive with their racial limitations, but there was no denying that they had.

  Maybe it works in their favour, she thought, as the minutes ticked by. They don’t attempt to destroy their enemies and their enemies don't attempt to hold out after it becomes futile.

  “They just sent us another signal,” Sammy said. “They’re asking us for our sensor readings.”

  “Send them what we have,” George ordered. Black Hunter’s sensors were good - the boffins had made a fuss about not tearing them out of the hull before the ship was dispatched on her mission - but they weren't tracking the task force. “Don’t give them any reason to suspect us.”

  She glanced at Major Andres, then back at the display. What would she do, if she suspected a ship had been captured and pressed into enemy service? Stop her right at the edge of the defence grid, she suspected; too close to the planet to escape, too far from the vital targets to be dangerous. And yet, it would be risky. The starship’s commander might decide to charge the defenders and go out in a blaze of glory, if he thought he couldn't hope to escape. But there was enough firepower orbiting the planet to take the ship out before it was too late.

  “They’re allowing us to come in,” Major Andres commented. “Are you ready to escape?”

  “Yes, sir,” George said. The plan was weak, but it was the best one they had. “If they catch on to us before we’ve deployed the missiles, we’re sunk.”

  “But we should be able to clear their range before it’s too late,” Major Andres said. “Right?”

  George flushed. She was the naval officer. “Right.”

  “Good,” Major Andres said. He made a show of glancing at his watch. “And as you have six hours before we enter engagement range, might I suggest you sleep for five of them?”

  “Yes, sir,” George said. She glanced at Sammy. “Inform me if anything changes.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Sammy said. This time, he sounded a little more sardonic. “I believe Jon brought a VR suite, if you want a different form of relaxation.”

  “Remind me to have a word with him later,” Major Andres said. “And I suggest” - his tone made it very clear that it was an order - “that you sleep.”

  “Yes, sir,” George said.

  The cabins on Black Hunter were largely unspeakable by human standards, although she was amused to note they were better than some of the foxholes she’d napped in on Earth. She had a small blanket in one of the holds next to the marines and considered herself lucky. Given time, she would have stripped out the alien cabins and turned them into something humans could use, but the odds were vastly against Black Hunter surviving long enough for that to matter. Her most optimistic set of assumptions ended with them limping away from the planet, desperately trying to link up with the task force before it was too late.

  She lay down and closed her eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe she should ask to borrow the VR suite, if Jon had brought any programs she could use. It wasn't too likely. Most people used them for sexual fantasies, which were gender-specific. But it would be messy and public, something she couldn't afford. There were no showers on Black Hunter - the aliens seemed to prefer communal baths - and nothing that would wash away the damage to her reputation, if the marines saw her ...

  She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she felt was Corporal Roberts shaking her gently. “George, get up,” he hissed. “The Major’s raging.”

  George cursed as she jumped to her feet, used the facilities and hurried to the bridge. Roberts hadn't dumped cold water over her, for which she was thankful, but she had to admit that it would probably have woken her up quicker. She’d forgotten to set an alarm ... she glanced at her wristcom, gritting her teeth. If they’d been on Vanguard, in Marine Country, she would have had about a zillion push-ups coming her way.

  “Captain,” Major Andres said. He invested the word with so much sarcasm that George found herself flushing, again. “We are approaching our target.”

  “Yes, sir,” George said.

  She sat down on the throne and hastily checked the systems. The alien planet was growing closer, her sensors picking up more and more details. It was impossible to tell, yet, if it was a multiracial planet, with Foxes and Cows living together in harmony, but it was clear that their population estimates might be an order of magnitude too low. Indeed, if she hadn't known ES-11-2 was a colony, she would have assumed it was the alien homeworld. The population density matched Earth.

  And what, she asked herself, does that say about their homeworld?

  Sammy entered the bridge and took his spot, relieving Corporal Hicks. “The targeting systems have been updating constantly,” he said. “I have clear locks on all of our targets.”

  “Very good,” George said. She studied the display for a long moment, wishing she could see the task force. It would have been reassuring, even though she knew it would also have meant that something had gone wrong. “Are you ready to begin launching ballistic missiles?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Sammy said. “The missiles are ready for launch.”

  George nodded, slowly. One reason for their slow progress towards the planet had been to keep the aliens from wondering why they'd slowed, when they’d nearly reached their destination. She didn't want anything to alert them, not now they were slowly approaching the edge of the planetary defence system. ES-11-2 wasn't as heavily defended as Earth, but there was enough firepower orbiting the planet to give Black
Hunter a very exciting - and very short - time. And their window for offensive operations was starting to open.

  “Upload the final targeting datapackets, then start deploying the missiles,” George ordered. It was time to roll the die. “And ready defensive weaponry.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Sammy said.

  “And prepare to evacuate,” Major Andres added. “This ship may not survive the next few minutes.”

  “See to it, Major,” George ordered.

  She had a suspicion she'd pay for that comment later - the look he gave her was far to reminiscent of her old gym mistress for comfort - but he merely nodded and keyed his wristcom, issuing orders. The memory made her smile, even though she’d been terrified of the old battleaxe at the time. If nothing else, life in space underlined just how pointless her life had been as a schoolgirl. Most of her achievements, in hindsight, had been mind-numbingly boring.

  But we could throw Mrs Hawker at the Foxes, she thought, as the final minutes ticked down to zero. And then they’d be begging to be allowed to surrender.

  “Missiles away, Captain,” Sammy said. “No sign they’ve been detected.”

  George gritted her teeth. Too much depended on the enemy now. If they thought - perhaps rightly - that there was something odd about her ship, they might demand she hold position until she could be inspected. Or they might just do an active sensor sweep, which would pick up the missiles before they went active. Hell, there was no way she could let an inspection team board Black Hunter. They'd know something was wrong the moment they laid eyes on her crew.

  “Picking up a signal,” Sammy warned. “They're ordering us to hold position.”

  He paused. “Incoming starfighters!”

  “Hold position,” George ordered. The starfighters didn't seem particularly suspicious, as far as she could tell, but they might notice something when they made an inspection of Black Hunter’s hull. If they spotted something out of place ... she’d have to take them out quickly, knowing it would be far too revealing. “And track them on passive sensors.”

  She waited, grimly, as the starfighters came closer. They had no reason to go active, she told herself, but they also had nothing to gain from not going active. Their drive emissions marked them out as targets, whatever they did. Maybe, just maybe, their active sweeps wouldn't pick up the missiles. They were tiny objects in the endless sea of space ...

  The starfighters swept past, far too close to her hull for comfort, then vanished into the distance.

  “Show-offs,” Sammy pronounced. “All starfighter pilots are the same, whatever the species.”

  He smiled. “I once knew a pair of starfighter pilots on Invincible who ...”

  Major Andres cleared his throat. “I’m not sure George is old enough to hear this story,” he said. “Coming to think of it, I’m not sure I’m old enough to hear this story.”

  George blinked, then realised he was trying to make a joke. She giggled, feeling the tension starting to evaporate. She’d never really understood why the marines joked in foxholes, but she thought she did now. It was a way of looking at death and laughing.

  “Picking up another alien signal,” Sammy warned. He looked up at her, his brown eyes worried. “They’re dispatching a shuttle.”

  “Shit,” George said. By her most optimistic calculations, the shuttle would reach them before the missiles entered attack range. She briefly considered trying to take the boarding party prisoner, but too much could go wrong. There would be someone on the shuttle in position to scream for help. And those damn starfighters were on their way back. “Stand by to engage.”

  She tapped the display. “We take her out here,” she ordered. Plasma weapons weren't exactly light-speed weapons, but at such close range it wouldn't matter. The aliens would die before their sensors sounded the alert. “And then reverse course.”

  And hope they don’t notice the missiles, she thought. They’d give the missiles a few extra seconds, perhaps. Just long enough for them to enter attack range and go active. It might cost us our lives, but there will still be a chance for the plan to work.

  “Aye, Captain,” Sammy said. His voice was very even, but she could detect a thin trace of anticipation. “Ready ...”

  George braced herself as the enemy shuttle drew closer. It looked more like a standard civilian model than a military design, according to the sensors, but she knew better than to take that for granted. The craft would probably have some armour, even if it wasn't obvious.

  “Target the starfighters afterwards,” she ordered. Maybe, just maybe, they could wipe out all the threats before it was too late. That would give them an excellent chance to escape. “Fire on my command.”

  She took a breath. “Fire!”

  Black Hunter fired. The shuttle exploded, blotted out of existence before it even knew it was under attack. George cursed as the starfighter pilots threw themselves into a series of evasive manoeuvres, then spun around to take the offensive. They’d either suspected trouble, part of her mind noted, or they’d merely been on alert. Black Hunter was already pulling back, yet there was no way they could outrun the starfighters. Sammy opened fire, using the point defence to force them to keep their distance, but it wasn't enough. They closed to attack range and opened fire ...

  “The missiles have gone active,” Sammy snapped. The display filled with alerts as the enemy active sensors came online, too late. The missiles were already flashing towards their targets. “I think we did it!”

  “Good,” George snapped back. The ship shook as plasma bolts slammed into its thin armour and burned through into the hull. Moments later, the power dropped sharply as one of the fusion cores was taken out. The end was approaching with terrifying speed. “And now we have to escape!”

  She keyed her wristcom as she sprang up. “Abandon ship! I say again, all hands abandon ship!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Launch fighters,” John snapped, as the task force decloaked. “All batteries, commence firing!”

  He allowed himself a tight smile as the enemy recoiled. Black Hunter had done a very good job, her ballistic missiles tearing into the planetary defences. They were trying desperately to recover, but they wouldn't have time to do more than launch a handful of starfighters. His battleships were already advancing forward, their main guns and mass drives launching blast after blast into the enemy positions. They’d be too busy fending off his ships and starfighters to notice the mass driven projectiles, at least until it was far too late.

  “Eisenhower has launched all her starfighters,” Commander Janette Williamson reported, looking up from her console. “Vikramaditya is launching the remainder of hers now.”

  “Remind both ships to remain out of reach of enemy weapons,” John ordered, as the enemy starfighters altered course to engage the newcomers. “We don’t want to lose another carrier.”

  He glanced down at the display as his active sensors probed the system. It was definitely a bigger target than he’d realised, although - thankfully - most of what they’d missed during the recon flights appeared to be harmless. He marked some possible sites down for later attention, then looked back at the main display. King Edward and Alabama were exchanging fire with a massive alien battlestation, while Texas and Montana were crushing a second and the remaining battleships were sweeping orbital targets out of existence. As smash-and-run raids went, he had to admit, it had been terrifyingly effective. The defenders didn't have a chance to rally their forces before it was too late.

  “Picking up several planetary defence centres on the surface,” Janette warned. “They’re firing mass drivers now.”

  “Return fire with KEWs,” John ordered. A duel with ground-based mass drivers was likely to end badly, even though the enemy weapons were at the bottom of the gravity well. “And then warn the task force to attempt to stay out of range.”

  He winced as the alien battlestation struck Alabama a glancing blow, a second before parts of the battlestation’s armour failed. The two battle
ships pressed their advantage ruthlessly, launching a stream of missiles into her weak spot. Moments later, the battlestation exploded into a cloud of debris, half of which plummeted towards the planet below. John cursed under his breath. Most of the debris was too small to do any real damage, assuming it survived its passage through the atmosphere, but a handful of pieces were alarmingly large. And they were out of effective range. There was nothing he could do about them.

  “Signal the fleet,” he ordered. The last enemy industrial node was gone. Their shipyards were already nothing more than atoms. “They are to withdraw to high orbit once the final targets have been destroyed.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Janette said. She paused. “Clive has been destroyed.