A low drumbeat echoed through the ship, bringing the crew to full readiness. “I’m going to the bridge,” the Captain added. “We’re about to find out the truth for ourselves.”
James nodded, then turned back to the display.
* * *
“Get your ass in gear,” Kurt snapped, as the pilots ran for their starfighters. “Into the cockpits, now! Move, damn it!”
He scrambled up the ladder into his own cockpit, then hastily keyed the switch to bring his fighter to full power. They’d been sitting in the ready room when the alert had sounded; if he’d had his druthers, half of the formation would have been on combat space patrol at all times. But he understood the Captain’s logic, even if he didn’t like it. They didn't dare let the aliens seem something that suggested the decoy carriers weren't real.
“Ready for launch,” he said, once he’d strapped himself into the cockpit. “Check in, by the numbers.”
One by one, the pilots sounded off. Nothing had gone wrong, thankfully; he’d seen several deployments when starfighters had suffered failures that had forced the crews to hold them back long enough to be fixed. Pilots hated it when that happened, but Kurt suspected that it was better than suffering a catastrophic failure while in interplanetary space. He checked in with the CIC as soon as all of the pilots had reported in, then braced himself for the launch. It always felt like a roller coaster, despite the best compensators the Royal Navy could produce.
He forgot his concerns as soon as he was blasted out of the tube into interstellar space. The stars burned brightly around him, illuminating the darkened shape of the carrier. There was no way they could see the alien craft with the naked eye, but their carriers were showing up clearly on his display. The starfighters, on the other hand, weren't showing up at all. He gritted his teeth, realised just how dangerous the alien stealth systems could be. If their sensors were unreliable, the aliens could just snipe the human craft out of visual range, picking them off one by one.
“Additional sensor drones are being launched,” the XO said. “If the aliens can't maintain their stealth when they go to full power…”
And if they can, we’re dead, Kurt thought. He looked back at the alien carriers on the display, trying to estimate how long it would take the alien starfighters to enter engagement range. But there just wasn't enough hard data to make a realistic guess.
“Alpha and Beta, with me,” he ordered. “Delta and Gamma, remain to cover the Old Lady.”
He listened to the acknowledgements, then gunned the starfighter’s thrusters, forcing it forward. Ahead of them, the alien carriers grew larger on the display.
* * *
Ted wanted a drink, desperately. Something to give him a little courage and determination, something to keep him going as seven massive alien carriers bore down on his command. It was clear that the aliens had been fooled by the decoys — it was the only explanation that made sense — and yet, he knew all too well that they had the firepower to deal with the illusionary ships. He needed a drink…
He forced the thought aside as he watched his starfighters advancing towards the enemy, fighters taking the lead while the bombers followed afterwards, waiting for their chance to launch their missiles at the enemy ships. The aliens had a definite unfair advantage, he decided; their starfighters could switch roles effortlessly, while the human craft were easy to separate out, isolating the ones that posed a definite threat to the enemy ships. He had no doubt that the aliens intended to take advantage of their technology as much as possible. It was what he would have done.
“Picking up some odd distortion as the drones advance forward,” Farley said. The tactical officer was staring down at his console, puzzled. “We might be able to provide rough locations for the alien fighters.”
“We need something more precise,” Ted said. They could detonate a string of nukes… but if they weren't careful, they’d risk damaging their own starfighters too. “Can you get a lock on them we can use to…”
He broke off as new red icons blinked into existence. Despite himself, he couldn't help a flicker of admiration for the alien technology… and the pilots of the alien starfighters. Flying so close to their target was ballsy, all right, even if they knew they were effectively invisible. But now they could be seen… he watched as Gamma wing altered course, swinging up to confront the alien craft, while Delta wing remained behind to shield the carrier’s hull. So far, their planning seemed to have paid off.
“Clear to engage,” he ordered, as the alien starfighters accelerated forward. Their power curves were definitely less capable than human starfighters… and there was a curious elegance about them that seemed oddly impractical. Or maybe they genuinely could operate within a planetary atmosphere. “I say again, clear to engage.”
“They’re coming right towards us now,” Commander Fitzwilliam said, through the intercom. “They must have realised that the other carriers are decoys.”
“Looks that way,” Ted agreed. “Deactivate the drones. We can recover them after the battle.”
He scowled as the alien craft came closer, showing no hint of surprise when the dummy carriers vanished from the screens. Yes, they’d definitely seen through the deception… he tried, quickly, to work out when they’d seen through it, but it was impossible to say for sure. He pushed the thought aside, gritting his teeth. The whole theory about his ship’s armour was about to be put to the test.
The alien starfighters didn't bother to do more than fire a handful of shots at the human starfighters as they roared past them, concentrating instead on Ark Royal. Ted watched, feeling a moment of relief as four alien starfighters vanished from the display, picked off by his ships, then braced himself as they came into engagement range. This was where they’d torn the more advanced carriers apart… a handful of them fell to the carrier’s point defence, but the remainder kept boring in. He watched, mentally praying desperately to a god he wasn't sure he believed in, as the alien weapons flared to life… and slammed into the carrier’s armour.
“No major damage,” Anderson reported. The Chief Engineer sounded as relieved as Ted felt. “I say again, no major damage.”
“Continue firing,” Ted ordered, as Delta wing chased the alien starfighters over the carrier’s hull. “Drive them away from us.”
He glanced down at the reports, sighing in relief. Ark Royal’s armour could take the alien blasts… but it wouldn't stop the alien starfighters from disarming and blinding the carrier by picking off her weapons and sensors. One by one, the alien craft fell back towards their own carriers, clearly rethinking their task. Behind them, Gamma wing gave chase while Delta wing remained with Ark Royal.
“Lock mass drivers on target,” he ordered. The alien carriers were coming into effective range, although — unlike powered missiles — the mass drivers were nothing more than ballistic weapons. “Prepare to fire.”
What, he asked himself absently, would a mass driver do to a modern carrier? Assuming a direct hit, it would rip the carrier apart from end to end. It made him wonder if there had been a quiet agreement among the various interstellar powers to ban mass drivers from starships, even though they were effective weapons. If there was, it wouldn't last much longer, not if the theories were correct. The aliens were about to be kissed.
“Weapons locked on target,” Farley reported. “Ready to fire.”
Ted smiled. “Fire,” he ordered.
Projectiles launched from mass drivers couldn't alter course, allowing them to be evaded fairly easily if the target saw them coming. But they made up for that by being immensely destructive if they did hit, as well as fast enough to give the targets relatively little warning of their arrival. The aliens clearly didn't see them coming in time; one carrier was smashed amidships by a projectile, while another, clearly badly damaged, limped out of formation and started to retreat.
“Two direct hits,” Farley said. On the display, the first alien carrier disintegrated in a series of tearing explosions. “The mass driver is re
loading.”
“Fire as soon as possible,” Ted ordered. The mass driver took too long to reload, another problem that would have to be solved before the end of the war. “Target an untouched alien ship.”
The aliens seemed uncertain of what to do, he realised, as he watched their formation spread apart. They clearly hadn't expected the mass driver, but now they’d seen it they were taking precautions, making it harder to guarantee a direct hit. And mass drivers needed direct hits to be effective…
“Take us towards them,” he ordered. Ark Royal was large and intimidating and she’d just handed out the worst beating the aliens had taken in the war. If they were lucky, the aliens might just break off… but he wasn’t sure he wanted them to break off. He wanted revenge for the dead crewmen who’d died at New Russia. “Order our escorts to open fire.”
The alien starfighters altered course, then swept back towards Ark Royal. Ted watched grimly as he realised what the aliens had in mind. Take out the mass driver, take out the missile tubes… and Ark Royal would be practically defenceless. He barked orders as the alien craft closed in, blowing through the defending starfighters, only to run straight into the teeth of the carrier’s point defence. They weren't even trying to stealth themselves.
The stealth system must have a huge power requirement, he decided, as the starfighters lanced down and opened fire. Again, the armour deflected most of it, but a number of weapons and sensors were blown off the hull. Absently, he wondered what would happen if the aliens kept firing into where the weapons had been. There were additional layers of armour under the primary hull, but they weren't as thick as the first line of defence.
“Firing,” Farley reported. There was a long pause as five solid projectiles raced towards their targets. “One hit; three more picked off by the aliens.”
One solid miss, Ted noted. He cursed under his breath. The aliens had thought of using counter-battery fire — and, unlike most offensive weapons, mass drivers were vulnerable to defensive fire. It was simple enough to predict their courses and take them out before it was too late. Given time, the human raced might manage to build enough mass driver-armed ships to render that a moot point, but God alone knew what the aliens would improvise as a countermeasure. Or were they incapable of innovation? It didn't seem likely.
They’re not stupid, he told himself. Dealing with a stupid enemy would be easier — but a stupid enemy could never have built those ships. Whatever else they are, they're not stupid.
He scowled. He really needed a drink.
“Lock missiles on target, then open fire,” he ordered, instead. On the display, the alien carriers had started to reverse course, tacitly abandoning the battlefield. But it would take them at least ten minutes to reach a usable tramline. He’d be able to use that time to hammer their ships into scrap metal. “And continue firing with the mass drivers until we run out of projectiles.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said. “Opening fire… now.”
On the display, Ark Royal and her escorts went to rapid fire. Moments later, the enemy point defence came to life, spewing out blasts of plasma fire like machine gun bursts…
Ted gritted his teeth. If they shot their magazines dry, the aliens could still win. This was going to hurt…
Chapter Ten
Kurt had expected, he realised now, the alien carrier to look rather like human carriers, which tended to follow the same basic design. Ark Royal was the only real exception and then only because her designers hadn't known as much about designing starships as their successors. But the aliens, it was clear, had their own aesthetics. Their carriers were giant spheres, seemingly completely unarmed. And yet, when the human starfighters came within range, bursts of plasma fire swept out towards them from hidden gun ports.
“Evasive action,” he snapped, yanking his starfighter away from a burst of light that almost ripped him apart. The aliens, it seemed, didn't have to worry about running out of ammunition. Nor were they inclined to hold back some of their starfighters to provide a combat space patrol. “Let the bombers go in to launch missiles.”
He watched, grimly, as the bombers launched their missiles. The aliens, realising the threat, focused all of their attention on the nuclear-tipped warheads, wiping all but one of them out before they stuck the alien hull. One missile made it through and detonated, significantly damaging the alien carrier. It drifted out of formation, then exploded in a shockingly powerful blast. Kurt wondered, absently, just what the aliens used for a power source.
Antimatter would have killed us all, he guessed, as he led the fighters back towards the carrier. Nearly a third of the bombers had been wiped out, while the remainder had shot their missiles. The aliens had a definite advantage… he hoped, silently, that the human race managed to improve their own directed-energy weapons or plasma cannons. Without them, they were always going to be at a disadvantage.
The alien starfighters lanced back towards the human craft, intent on killing them before they could return to Ark Royal and rearm. Kurt barked orders, then led his craft through the enemy formation, firing madly at brief targets. Two alien craft died, the remainder fell back and let the humans escape. Behind them, Ark Royal and her escorts were approaching rapidly, launching a steady stream of missiles. Another alien carrier, already badly damaged, exploded into a ball of expanding plasma, leaving the remainder to escape as best as they could. The alien escorts were already putting themselves between the carriers and Ark Royal.
Brave of them, he conceded, reluctantly. They’re safeguarding the carriers at the cost of their own lives.
He watched grimly as the bombers returned to Ark Royal, then turned his starfighters to cover the carrier as she advanced on the alien craft.
* * *
“Sir, the bombers are reloading.”
Ted nodded, thinking hard. The bombers had lost nearly a third of their number, a staggeringly high loss rate even if they had taken out a single alien carrier. And the aliens were in full retreat. But he didn't want to let them escape, if it were possible to stop them.
“Order them to launch again once they have reloaded,” he ordered. “And then…”
He broke off as a red light flashed up on the display. “Sir, Amati is gone,” Farley snapped. “They just blew her apart!”
Ted stared down at the display. There was nothing left of the missile frigate save an expanding cloud of atoms. “What happened?”
“Unsure,” Farley said, after a moment. “I think… I think they have a short-range plasma weapon of staggering power.”
It would have to be, Ted realised. A mass driver would have been noticeable — and logically the aliens would have fired it at Ark Royal, rather than one of the smaller craft. And, whatever it was had to be short-ranged or Ark Royal would have been blown apart by now.
“Hold the range open,” he ordered, thinking hard. What was the minimum range? He keyed his console. “Analysis; I want to know what happened and why.”
There was a long pause. “Our best guess is that they have an intensely powerful plasma system,” the analyst said, finally. She sounded unhappy; analysts were rarely called upon to provide data during a battle. Or at least they hadn't been. That too was going to change. “I think they couldn't maintain containment for very long, sir. Once the field fails, the blast would simply come apart.”
And be harmless, Ted thought. One by one, the alien escorts were slowing their retreat, threatening to bring the human ships into range. If he wasn't careful, he would wind up impaling himself on their weapons.
“Thank you,” he said. Unlike a mass driver, the alien weapon’s plasma would move at the speed of light. There would be no warning before it struck home… and it was clearly an order of magnitude more powerful than the weapons mounted on alien starfighters. “Will our armour be able to handle it?”
“Unknown, sir,” the analyst said. “However, the weapon did manage to take out a frigate. We have to assume the worst.”
Ted closed the channel, then looked over
at Farley. “Target missiles and mass drivers on the alien escorts,” he ordered. He was effectively letting the alien carriers go — they were picking up speed at a surprising rate — but there was no alternative. If nothing else, the aliens had taken a very definite bloody nose after trying to outflank Earth’s defences. “The bombers are to attempt to engage the alien carriers.”
He settled back in his command chair and watched as the range continued to open. The alien ships were in full retreat, not even trying to send their own starfighters to engage Ark Royal and her escorts. Ted allowed himself a moment of pleasure at their discomfort, then glanced down at the reports from engineering. The damaged weapons and sensors wouldn’t take too long to repair, thankfully. They could give chase if their FTL drive had been equal to the alien system.
“Captain,” Farley said, “they’re approaching the tramline.”
Ted sighed. By any standards, they had won a naval victory… but they still had no idea just how powerful the aliens actually were. It was impossible to tell if they’d degraded the enemy fleet by ten percent, one percent or point one percent. The only sign that the aliens might not be as strong as they had feared was that they’d sent only a handful of carriers through the back door. But they might well have been attempting to secure their lines of communication before launching the main thrust towards Earth.
“Recall the fighters,” he ordered, softly. “Let them go.”
Five minutes later, the aliens flickered out and vanished.
* * *
It was against regulations, but Kurt couldn’t help flipping his starfighter over in a loop-the-loop before guiding the tiny craft into the recovery bay. Outside, the maintenance crews were going crazy, cheering the fighter pilots as they cracked open their cockpits and jumped out onto the deck. Kurt found himself being kissed by several women and two men before he finally managed to disentangle himself and bellow for order. Slowly, quiet fell over the recovery bay.
“We won,” he said.
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