Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch

by Christopher Nuttal

  “We launch in twenty minutes, unless the aliens attack earlier,” the CAG informed them. “I suggest you try to relax.”

  Easier said than done, Henry thought. I couldn't relax right now if you paid me.

  ***

  “We pulled thirty-two crewmen out of the lifepods,” Lopez reported. “None of the others were recovered.”

  Ted nodded, fighting to keep the emotion off his face. Five thousand men and women had just died on his watch, including a large number of experienced officers. He hadn't been able to do anything to prevent it from happening, but he had a feeling the board of inquiry would feel differently. There were just too many civilians who believed they had the right to pass judgement on the military, even though they knew nothing about it. Ted was a firm believer in civilian control of the military – military-ruled states rarely worked very well – but there was a difference between civilian control and searching for a scapegoat.

  “Make sure they’re returned to the American ships, if they don’t want to stay on the Old Lady,” he ordered. At least Admiral Shallcross hadn't called him for the express purpose of accusing him of deliberately losing an American carrier. He’d known British officers who would be less understanding. “Have the fighters rearmed?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lopez said. “They’re currently held at two minutes to complete launch and dispersal.”

  Ted nodded. If they had to suddenly launch their fighters within seconds, they could do it ... if, of course, nothing went wrong. The Demon Murphy was still alive and well in space, he knew; something always went wrong. But the trick was to adapt, react and keep going, no matter what happened to impede progress. Stopping long enough to remove all the element of risk – if possible – invited disaster.

  He keyed the display, looking up at Target One. It hung in front of him, surrounded by a small galaxy of tactical icons. Some orbital stations were obvious problems, armed to the teeth and protected by starfighters, others were of uncertain capabilities. He had a feeling that some of the seemingly innocent stations were civilian, rather than military, but it was impossible to be sure. The problem nagged at his mind as he worked his way through the data the drones had assembled, wishing he could just talk to the aliens. He could issue warnings, threats and demands for surrender to humans, but how could he say anything to the aliens?

  “Call the Marines,” he ordered, as the remaining alien ships kept heading towards Tramline Two, heading – he assumed – towards reinforcements. “They have some targets to occupy.”

  He paused, wondering if the aliens could understand English. They’d captured a number of teaching machines from Vera Cruz, he knew; they should be able to use them to put together the basics of English, even if they hadn't pulled it from the Heinlein colony. And yet they seemed completely unable – or unwilling – to talk to humanity. He found it impossible to believe that the aliens were truly unaware that humanity could talk, or that they couldn't overcome the language barrier. There hadn't been any attempt to classify the bare bones of English on Vera Cruz.

  “Record a message,” he ordered. “This is the human commander. We intend to secure the orbital space surrounding your world. Any station that fires on our forces will be destroyed. Any station that does not fire on our forces will be occupied, but not destroyed. We suggest that you remove the civilian population from your orbital facilities.”

  “They may not understand, even if they speak English,” Lopez pointed out. It was her job to point out when he might be making a mistake – or, in this case, dubious assumptions. “Or they may think we’re asking them to show us which stations are safe to occupy.”

  Ted shrugged. If he’d been facing a human opponent, a standard warning to evacuate the facilities would have been demanded by the ROE. And, if the enemy hadn't heeded the warning, any deaths would be on their heads, not on his. But no one really knew if the aliens could speak English.

  He smiled, rather coldly. If the aliens started abandoning their facilities, he knew, it would be evidence that they did understand English. It would prove that they were ignoring humanity’s attempts at communication. And that meant ... what? That they were determined to fight the war to the bitter end anyway or that there was something else going on?

  And besides, he was not going to commit any atrocities if they could be avoided.

  “Send the message,” he ordered. He wished, not for the first time, that someone had managed to get the alien POWs to talk. They’d shown a fortitude human prisoners would have a hard time matching. Trapped hundreds of light years from their homeworld, captives of a strange alien race, they still said nothing. It would have been impressive if he’d hadn't been so desperate to actually talk to their superiors. “Let's see what happens.”

  There was no response for nearly ten minutes, then shuttles started to break away from some of the asteroids, heading down towards the planet’s surface. Ted stared, feeling an odd mixture of relief and fear; there didn't seem to be enough of them to convey everyone down to the surface. If they’d been human ... he shook his head. Humans showed enough different patterns of behaviour that it was often difficult to tell what a single human would do in a given situation, yet along a handful of aliens.

  “They did understand,” Lopez said. She sounded astonished, as if she didn't quite believe her own words. “They knew what we were saying.”

  Ted nodded, slowly. He didn't blame her for being stunned. The aliens had been silent for so long that some humans had given up hope of being able to talk to them. But now there was very definite proof that the aliens understood at least one human language. It opened up all sorts of possibilities.

  “Record a second message,” he ordered. He waited for her nod, then continued. “This is the human commander. We would like to speak directly to your leaders. If you do not open communications within five minutes, we will commence offensive operations.”

  He looked over at Lopez. “Send the message,” he said. “We’ll give them ten minutes before we start engaging the orbital defences.”

  Lopez blinked. “Ten minutes?”

  “They might not understand our time measurement system,” Ted pointed out. Even explaining minutes, seconds and hours to the aliens would be tricky. They’d have to show the seconds ticking by, then match them to names ... which the alien timing system could be very different. For all Ted knew, their version of hours could be three or four human hours long. “We’ll give them time.”

  The minutes ticked by slowly. There was no response.

  Ted let out a long breath. It would have been nice to have opened proper communications, if only to discuss the planet's surrender. They could have moved on to other matters of mutual interest, starting with just why the damn war started in the first place. But, after their telltale response to the first message, the aliens had just fallen silent again. Now, though, they had a piece of data for the analysts to study. Who knew – maybe they could find the aliens on the planet’s surface who understood English and speak to them.

  But there was no time for that now.

  “The Marines are on their way,” he said. The Rhino wasn't dawdling either, or bothering with stealth. His ships would reach the fleet in just under an hour. “Signal the fleet. It’s time to start clearing the way.”

  He paused, gathering himself. “The known defensive stations are to be engaged with extreme force,” he added. “Stations that have not revealed any weapons or the willingness to use them are to be left alone, hopefully so they can be boarded. Any large chunk of debris that might impact the planet's surface is to be smashed before it can enter the planet’s atmosphere.”

  It was a risk, he knew. The orbital stations might all be armed – or they might be rigged to explode when humans forced their way into the stations. Or, if the alien leadership was trying to drum up support for the war amongst its people, it might have rigged the stations to cause an atrocity, perhaps by knocking one of the asteroids out of orbit. There was no way to know without taking the risk of trigge
ring any booby traps the aliens might have left behind. He shook his head; like so many other things when it came to dealing with the aliens, they were facing riddles wrapped in mysteries and enigmas. If only they could talk!

  “Order the fleet to engage,” he said, quietly.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Henry smiled as the starfighter was, once again, catapulted out into interplanetary space, followed rapidly by the remainder of his squadron. A quick glance at his display showed the alien stations marked in a mixture of red and yellow; red for known threats, yellow for potential threats. Several of them were launching additional starfighters, dispelling any hopes he might have had that they’d already destroyed the alien starfighters defending the planet.

  “Shoot,” North commented. “There's more of the buggers.”

  “More targets,” a grim American voice said. With Roosevelt gone, the remaining Americans wanted blood. “You have the ten on the right, I’ll take the hundred on the left ...”

  “Stay in formation,” the Wing Commander growled. “And try to engage the starfighters away from the stations. Those bastards are probably crammed full of point defence.”

  “Understood,” North said.

  Henry smiled. He had a feeling that they were definitely about to earn their pay. No one – no one human, at least - had assaulted a heavily defended planet, but all the theorists agreed that it would be bloody. But the aliens had crushed New Russia’s defences with uncompromising brutality. Humanity might do as well ... or discover that the aliens had their own surprises waiting for attackers.

  He pushed the thought aside. One way or another, they were about to find out.

  ***

  “Launch decoys,” Ted ordered. “The frigates are to open fire on my mark.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lopez said. “Decoys launching ... now.”

  Ted nodded. Hopefully, the aliens would suddenly see the human fleet quadruple in size. They’d know three-fourths of the sensor images were decoys, of course, but it would still be hard for them to separate out the true starships from the illusions, particularly when the missiles went to work. The alien ability to command and control their defences was about to take a severe beating.

  “Order them to stick with Attack Pattern Alpha,” he said, as more and more of the alien active sensor arrays came online. They would be far more precise than passive sensors, but the human attackers knew where they were now. “I want all of the alien active sensors targeted for destruction.”

  He watched as the alien network slowly revealed itself, then smiled. “Order the frigates to open fire,” he said. “I say again, they are to open fire.”

  The display suddenly sparked with new icons as the frigates opened fire, volley-firing their missiles towards the planet’s defences. Moments later, the aliens responded, directing their starfighters into position to intercept the missiles. But the human starfighters knifed into the alien ships and a series of dogfights began as the they started to knock down the alien craft one by one. Moments later, the first set of missiles started to detonate, blasting laser beams towards the enemy stations. Others were knocked down before they had a chance to detonate.

  “Sir,” Commander Higgs said. The analyst sounded tired, but enthusiastic. “The data is revealing certain patterns. Among other things, the aliens defending the planet are not as well-trained as the aliens who fought at New Russia and other battles.”

  “You think we’ve encountered a reservist unit?” Ted asked. He'd thought the same at the previous battle, but he wasn't inclined to assume he was correct. “Or one unprepared for war?”

  “Their training is definitely flawed,” Higgs insisted, calmly. “They might have taken out a carrier, but they’re outmatched by our pilots.”

  “Let us hope you’re right,” Ted said.

  He turned and looked back at the display. Some of the missiles were finding their targets, but others were being knocked down by the enemy defenders. Their point defence crews were clearly very motivated, Ted thought, with a moment of bitter amusement. But then, unless alien reactions were far faster than human reactions, they’d probably programmed their computers to handle the guns. There was no way a human mind could keep up with the incoming missiles, designate targets and engage them before it was too late.

  “Keep a sharp eye on the stations that have yet to open fire,” he ordered. “I want to know if they show the slightest sign of hostility.”

  “The first wave of missiles has been completed,” Lopez reported. “We've damaged a couple of stations, but not enough to cripple the planetary defences.”

  Ted swore, inwardly. He’d expected more than that from the modified missiles, but he’d underestimated the planet’s defences. They’d crammed more point defence and armour into the stations than he’d expected. Some of them might be as heavily armoured as Ark Royal herself ...

  “Launch the second salvo,” he ordered. But ship-mounted missiles wouldn't be enough, he knew. “Then detach half of our remaining bombers to target their stations. Try to coordinate the strikes so they go in simultaneously.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lopez said.

  Ted gritted his teeth as the first flight of bombers started to launch from their carriers. He’d hoped to keep the bombers in reserve, just in case the alien carriers managed to link up with reinforcements and launch an immediate counterattack. But instead they would have to be committed to the attack on Target One. He briefly considered adding mass drivers to the fury wracking the skies of Target One, then dismissed the thought with some irritation. There was too great a risk of accidentally striking the planet’s surface.

  If all of our attacks are so difficult, he thought, we might want to consider building additional attack ships. Or just blockading the worlds and leaving the aliens to rot on the vine.

  ***

  The alien starfighter came out of nowhere. Henry had barely a second’s warning before bursts of hot plasma screamed past his fighter and vanished somewhere in the inky darkness of space. Swearing out loud, even though he knew his mike was on, he yanked the starfighter out of the alien’s path and tried to draw a bead on his opponent. If the alien hadn’t been distracted by a missile that flashed past his ship, close enough almost to be seen with the naked eye, Henry suspected his career would have come to a very sudden end. As it was, he managed to line himself up on the alien long enough to blow him into plasma.

  He pulled back and fell into formation escorting the bombers as they roared towards their target, one of the larger alien battlestations. It seemed to be glowing with light on his display as it hurled bolt after bolt of plasma fire towards the incoming ships, a display of fury that would have overloaded any comparable human system. He felt a moment of envy which rapidly became pity as the bombers launched their missiles towards the alien station. A handful made it into attack range and detonated. Moments later, the station shuddered and started to disintegrate.

  “Pull back,” the Wing Commander snapped. “You don't want to be hit by a piece of flying debris.”

  Henry nodded and followed the bombers as they retreated, chased by vengeful alien fighters. Behind them, warnings flashed up in his display as pieces of debris shot in all directions, most of them heading down into the planet's gravity well. A quick check revealed that most of them would almost certainly burn up in the planet’s atmosphere, although a handful might make it down to the surface. He doubted having so much debris dumped into the atmosphere would do the planet any good, but at least it wouldn't cause immediate problems.

  “The bombers are to return to the carriers to rearm,” the Wing Commander ordered. “Starfighters are to engage their counterparts.”

  Henry nodded and flipped the starfighter over, following North and his comrades as they headed back towards the alien starfighters. The aliens were fighting with a bitter desperation that almost made up for their poor training – Henry had never appreciated how hard the CAG had made them work until he saw the aliens – but it was hopeless. One by one, the alien star
fighters were burned out of space, followed by their battlestations.

  Alerts flashed up in his display. He evaded automatically, searching for his target. One of the alien asteroids had started to disintegrate, shattering into a tidal wave of rocky debris that seemed to fly in all directions. He stared, then glanced at the overall update as other pilots started to fill the airwaves with chatter. What the hell had happened to the alien asteroid?

  “Unknown,” the CAG said, finally. “No missile went near the asteroid.”

  He paused. “Continue operations.”

  Henry nodded and led the charge towards the next alien station.

  ***

  “They blew it up?”

  “Radar reports suggest that the cause of the destruction was internal,” Lopez confirmed. “As far as the analysts can tell, sir, none of our missiles or starfighters went anywhere near the station.”