“Might,” Admiral Fitzwilliam said. He looked down at the deck. “I’ll give it some thought, Captain. Until then ... return to your ship and prepare for departure.”
“Yes, sir,” John said.
He disengaged the hologram. His head spun, as always; he removed the goggles and headband, reminded himself savagely that he’d never left Warspite and hastily keyed the terminal in front of him. The orders were already there; HMS London, Cardiff and Manchester had been assigned to his command. He glanced at the files - he knew the captains of two of them personally, which was a relief - and then read the second half of the orders. Disengaging from the task force without being seen would be a challenge, but doable if they were careful. The Indians wouldn't realise that two flotillas had left the main body until it was far too late.
“Two hours,” he mused. “And then we can engage the Indians at will.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
J-35/Pegasus System
“All ships have checked in, Admiral,” Sally said. “They’re ready to deploy.”
“Prepare to start ECM on my mark,” James ordered. There was some room for error, but not much. “Are our guests still watching?”
“Yes, sir,” Sally said. “They’re right on the line.”
Spies, James thought, crossly. He couldn't imagine being bombarded with requests for interviews during Operation Nelson, or the desperate flight to Alien Prime. The media ships would definitely not have dared to come so close to an alien ship. We should open fire and blow them all into dust.
He pushed the thought aside, savagely. “Activate ECM,” he ordered. “Inform Beta and Charlie that they may depart as planned.”
“Aye, sir,” Sally said. She watched her console for a long moment. “ECM field is active, Admiral. Drones are in place and ready to activate. Beta and Charlie are signalling that they’re ready to slip into stealth mode.”
“Activate the drones,” James ordered. He sucked in his breath. Anyone watching with passive sensors would see the entire task force suddenly wrapped in a blaze of ECM. It would be impossible, assuming the boffins were correct, to pick out individual starships among the throng. “And order the fleet to advance.”
“Aye, sir,” Sally said.
James settled back in his command chair. If everything went according to plan, neither the Indians nor the other foreigners would be aware that the task force had dispatched two flotillas on separate vectors. They'd assume he was keeping the fleet as a united body, which wouldn't actually be a bad idea ... if, of course, one knew nothing about the mass drivers and the threat they posed. As it was, he’d have to abandon the pretence a long time before they slipped towards Pegasus.
“Admiral,” Sally reported. “One of the Indian ships has jumped out.”
“Off to warn its commander,” James noted. He’d considered attempting to jump the Indian ships, but they’d been lurking right on the tramline. The attack would have had to succeed in the first few seconds or fail utterly. “The other?”
“Still watching us, sir,” Sally said.
“We’ll take her out with starfighters if she’s still there when we get into engagement range,” James said. He would be surprised if she was - the Indians wouldn’t throw a ship away for nothing - but he had to prepare for it anyway. “Keep a sharp eye on her.”
“Aye, sir,” Sally said. She paused as the display updated. “Admiral, our shadows are following us.”
We won’t be able to do anything secretly while they’re here, James through, grimly. But he couldn't do anything about it, not now. They’ll just have to keep their distance.
“Keep the task force on course,” he ordered. They’d be nice and predictable, exactly what the Indians were expecting to see. “And take us through the tramline as soon as we enter jump radius.”
“Aye, sir,” Sally said.
***
“We’ve broken free, sir,” Tara said. “There’s no sign they’ve detected us.”
John nodded. If they were lucky, the watchers were still convinced that Bulldog Beta and Bulldog Charlie were still with the task force. The Indian ship on the tramline wouldn't have a clue that his tiny flotilla was bypassing her and sneaking into the Pegasus System. Unless, of course, the Indians were just playing dumb.
“Helm, take us to the tramline,” he ordered. It was quite possible the Indians had a stealthed ship watching the tramline, but it would have some problems detecting the British flotilla unless they risked using active sensors. “And jump us through as soon as we arrive.”
“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.
John smiled coldly, feeling his heart starting to race in his chest. This was it; they’d sneaked into the enemy system twice now, but this time they intended to launch the first strike against the Indian Navy. Part of him regretted it; the rest of him relished the challenge, relished the chance to prove he was better than his Indian counterparts. He pushed that feeling into the back of his mind - he didn't want to make himself overconfident - and watched as Warspite advanced towards the invisible tramline. The single red icon representing the Indian ship didn't move.
They must be mesmerised by the advancing task force, he thought. Had the Indians assumed Britain would back down without a fight? It might have been the only thing that had convinced them to invade the systems in the first place. Are they now regretting their choice?
He shook his head, slowly. The Indians could withdraw at any moment - or even signal their willingness to withdraw - and the Royal Navy would let them go. He’d read the Admiral’s briefings; there was no hope, whatever happened, of a complete victory. The Solar Treaty would see to that, unfortunately. All they could do was drive the Indians out of British territory and declare victory. If the Indians wanted to run, they could. No one would try to stop them.
“Captain,” Armstrong said. “We are entering the tramline.”
“Jump us through,” John ordered.
The display flickered and rebooted itself, hastily. John had braced himself for everything from an immediate attack to an Indian battle fleet holding position where the task force was likely to appear, but the display was empty. The Indians were either holding position near the planet - which made a certain kind of sense - or hidden under stealth.
“Link into the remote platforms,” he ordered. “We need to locate that carrier.”
He sucked in a breath as the carrier appeared, still in position near the gas giant. But the gas giant was several light hours away ... he shook his head as the display updated again, showing the carrier’s possible locations. No starship, certainly not one as large as a supercarrier, could have travelled over five light hours in less than a day.
“She hasn’t moved, sir,” Tara said.
“That’s about to change,” John muttered. The Indian CO would probably know the task force was on the way ... he’d probably already started putting his contingency plans into operation. “Keep a very sharp eye on her.”
“Aye, sir,” Tara said.
At least we know the Indians haven’t cracked the secret of FTL communications, John thought wryly, as Warspite continued to slip further into the system. They’d have reacted by now if they had.
The display changed, again. “Captain,” Tara said. “The task force is transiting into the system now.”
“Understood,” John said. If the Indians were planning an ambush, it would be sprung now ... if, of course, they’d had time to get an ambush into position. “Inform me the moment anything changes.”
***
General Anjeet Patel jerked awake as alarms began ringing through the giant ship, calling her crew to battlestations. He grabbed his trousers as he rolled out of bed, pulled them on as quickly as possible and ran out of the cabin while buttoning his jacket. The alarms were still sounding as he entered the CIC, just in time to see the first set of red icons appearing near the tramlines. A line of text at the bottom warned that the data was five hours out of date - the British task force had had plenty of time to alter cour
se before the Indians received their first warning. Anjeet would have been surprised if they’d stayed near the tramline.
“Report,” he ordered.
His aide looked up. “General, we received a warning from the picket ships, just before the British started to jump through the tramline,” he said. “The full task force has entered the system.”
“Understood,” Anjeet said. He cursed the alarms under his breath. Even if the British made a beeline for his fleet, and it didn't look as though they had, it would still take several hours before the two fleets were in engagement range. “Order the fleet to stand down to yellow alert.”
The young man frowned. “Sir?”
“There’s no point in tensing ourselves up now,” Anjeet said, sharply. He disliked having to explain the rationale behind his orders, but it was a reasonable request. “They’re not going to be on us in seconds, are they?”
“No, sir,” the aide said.
“Of course not,” Anjeet said. If the British had managed to find a way to move at FTL speeds without the tramlines the war was already lost. “It will take them at least ten to fifteen hours to close with us, if that’s what they want to do. So we will prepare to meet them, as calmly as you please, without overstressing the crews.”
“Yes, sir,” the aide said.
“Cancel those alarms,” Anjeet ordered. He took a moment to study the display, silently breathing a sigh of relief when the alarms were silenced. The noise was bad enough to give him a pounding headache. “Deploy an additional line of pickets to surround the fleet - inform the captains that I am authorising the deployment of the laser net. Dispatch two destroyers to watch the British ships from a safe distance. Make it clear to their commanders that I want intelligence, not heroics. If they get jumped by the British, they’d better hope they go down with their ships or I’ll kill them personally.”
“Yes, sir,” his aide said.
Anjeet nodded at the younger man, then sat down in his command chair and forced himself to relax. What would the British do? If they came right for his fleet, he intended to pull back and see if they could be induced to come into range of the mass drivers on Clarke III. If not ... well, he could wait and see what happened before committing himself. He had a whole string of useful options he could use.
“Inform all ships committed to Operation Sitka to prepare for deployment,” he added, after a moment. It still didn't look as though the British intended to challenge his fleet directly, but he couldn't allow the British to hold position indefinitely. “And send a signal to Vikramaditya. I want her to hold herself at readiness to advance into Pegasus if necessary.”
“Yes, sir,” his aide said.
Anjeet smiled, coldly. One way or another, he told himself firmly, there was a nasty surprise in store for the British.
***
“The Indians are still holding position near the gas giant,” Sally reported. “They’re dispatching at least two ships towards us, but no other notable reaction.”
“Understood,” James said. He cursed the speed of light delay under his breath, but consoled himself with the thought the Indians would be having the same problem. On the other hand, they also had a horde of spies following the British ships. “And the detached units?”
“They’re in stealth mode, sir,” Sally said. “I am currently unable to track them.”
James nodded, shortly. Commodore Blake was an old friend - they’d been at the Academy together - while he’d come to respect Captain Naiser. The man might have started life as a starfighter pilot, which wasn't the best of pedigrees, but he’d matured into a capable commanding officer. But it still felt wrong to remain in the rear, to issue the orders and watch junior officers carry them out. He should be in danger too.
I am in danger, he reminded himself. The Indians couldn't leave the task force in place for long, not without risking their control over the system. And when they come, this ship will be the main target.
“Captain Pole is deploying the CSP,” Sally informed him. “One squadron of starfighters on CSP; the remainder held in readiness for immediate launch.”
“Understood,” James said. He frowned as he turned his gaze back to the display. “Launch a spread of probes to monitor local space and to hell with the beancounters. I want to know the moment one of their ships tries to sneak up to us.”
“Aye, sir,” Sally said.
***
It was impossible, John knew from bitter experience, to coordinate an operation across interstellar distances. Hell, it was hard enough coordinating one over interplanetary distances. The Indians would have real problems bringing their second carrier into the Pegasus System if they intended to launch a joint attack. They’d also - if the analysts were correct - have problems telling their convoys to abort course and return to Earth.
Unless they did manage to get a message off in time, he thought, as the small flotilla approached Tramline D. It still annoyed him that they hadn’t discovered it led to Vesy until after they’d gone the long way around, although if they had Warspite might have been jumped by the Russian deserters and destroyed. But even if they did, they’d start running out of supplies pretty quickly.
He looked down at the analyst’s report and scowled, inwardly. There were just too many question marks - he silently gave them points for admitting as much - but certain things couldn't be avoided. The Indians would have no trouble using British components ... if, of course, they’d managed to capture any. Clarke III might have been intended as a fleet base, eventually, but none of the installations had been established, not even a standard supply dump for Royal Navy starships on long-range patrols. The moment the Indians were cut off from their supply lines, the analysts had concluded, their fighting power would start to decay.
That’s true of us too, of course, he thought wryly. The Indians will probably already be preparing deep-strike missions into J-35. All of our supplies have to come through that system.
The display changed, sharply. “Captain,” Tara snapped. “Six ships have just jumped through the tramline. Two long-range frigates, sir, and four freighters.”
John shared a dark look with Howard. “Right on time,” he said. “Helm, move us into interception range.”
He worked through the vectors in his head. Assuming the Indians knew precisely when the convoy was going to arrive, they could have sent a warning message ... or, more likely, ordered one of their ships to wait for the convoy and pass on a warning at once. But the timing would be very complex. Given the arrival of the task force, on the other side of the system, it wasn't too likely the Indians would manage to get a warning off in time ...
“We’re in position, sir,” Armstrong reported. “Enemy ships moving into missile range.”
“Enemy warships targeted, sir,” Tara added. They’d picked the interception point with malice aforethought; the chances of the enemy being warned were minimised, while the incoming ships would have no time to jump back into Vesy. “Missiles online, ready to fire; defence grid active, ready to fire.”
John braced himself. He was about to fire the first shot of the war. He knew shots had been exchanged on Clarke III - the SAS report had been very detailed - but that had been a minor skirmish. Now ... there wouldn't be any hope of a peaceful solution left, once the convoy was smashed.
But then, there wasn’t much hope of a peaceful solution anyway, he thought, grimly. They know they had ample opportunity to withdraw, once we showed ourselves ready to fight.
“Fire,” he ordered.
Warspite shook as she unleashed the first salvo, a dozen missiles plunging towards their targets. The destroyers fired a moment later, overwhelming the Indian defences through a combination of ECM and sheer weight of fire. John watched, dispassionately, as the Indians struggled to bring their defence online, but simply ran out of fire. The destroyers weren't modern either, part of his mind noted. Bomb-pumped lasers were more than enough to rip them apart, slaughtering the crews before they had a chance to escape.
> “Targets destroyed,” Tara said. Her voice was very calm. “I say again, targets destroyed.”
John sucked in his breath. “Hail the freighters,” he said. The ships were trying to alter course, but they were too underpowered to hope to escape. He doubted the Indians had bothered to cram weapons into their hulls ... and, even if they had, it would make no difference to the final outcome. “Order them to surrender or be destroyed.”
“Aye, sir,” Gillian said. “Message sent.”
There was a long pause. John cursed under his breath as the silence lengthened, wondering just what he should do if the Indians refused to surrender. His orders were clear - the freighters were to be captured or destroyed - but he didn't want to fire into helpless ships. It would look very bad in a war where public and international opinion was actually important.
A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) Page 23