“Agreed,” the Rhino said, when he mentioned his theory on the command channel. “And they’ve already prevented us from leapfrogging their positions and dropping troops into their rear.”
Charles nodded. Two American helicopters had died in quick succession; the remainder had been pulled back to await developments. They might have armoured hulls, but they couldn't stand up to plasma weapons fire. It struck him, suddenly, that that might be why they hadn't seen any signs of an alien air force. They believed aircraft to be largely useless in modern war.
The march towards the alien city devolved into a series of ambushes, each one costing time to clear. Thankfully, the aliens didn't seem to have invented IEDs or other insurgent tricks or the battle would have taken much longer. Instead, they jumped out, opened fire and then fell back rapidly. They were moving too quickly to be caught by the shells the Rhino would inevitably direct into their position.
“This would be beautiful countryside if the aliens didn't live here,” he muttered. He couldn't help thinking of a mixture of the English countryside and the rainforests they’d used for training exercises, years ago. “We could just come to an agreement about sharing planets ...”
The Rhino snorted. “So people have been saying,” he said, as the Marines reached a large river running down to the sea – and the alien city. “But we have to get them to talk to us first.”
Charles nodded as the aliens launched another ambush. The tanks opened fire, tearing through undergrowth and aliens alike, while the armoured infantry ran forwards in hopes of preventing the aliens from retreating. Charles saw a pair of aliens stumbling right towards him – a shiver ran down his spine as he saw their movements, utterly creepy compared to human movements – and held up his hand, trying to get them to stop. The aliens lifted their weapons instead, refusing to even try to surrender. Charles opened fire with bitter regret, wondering just why so many aliens were prepared to die in a futile attempt to slow the human advance. Were they terrified of humanity?
He put the thought aside as they finally brushed through the last ambush and found themselves staring down at the alien city. For a moment, it took his breath away; the aliens might be eerie and creepy, but their city looked like something out of a fairytale. It was a glowing mass of spires, all gleaming as if they were made of ice, while water seemed to run freely through the streets. Half of them, he realised, were actually canals. To the aliens, they were as good as roads. Hell, there were boats on the surface.
“Odd design,” Private Butcher commented. “Where the hell are the oars – or the outboard motor?”
Charles frowned, using his suit’s sensors to zoom in on the closest boat. Butcher was right; there were no engines or slots for the oars. It puzzled him, leaving him wondering if the aliens had used the canals as rapids, then he understood what he was seeing. The aliens swam under the boat to provide motive power.
“Odd,” Butcher said, when he pointed it out. “No engines?”
“I guess they like to use muscle power,” Charles said. “We did when we were sneaking up on Abu Hsian and his gang of merry murderers.”
He cleared his throat, checking the HUD. The landing forces had spread out, carefully sealing off all land routes to the city. It would have been more impressive if he hadn't been all too aware that the aliens preferred to swim through the water, allowing them to bring supplies in and out by sea. The alien city seemed to have captivated everyone, even the Rhino. There were no suggestions about forcing their way into the city and taking it by storm.
But then, no one is trying to bar our path any longer, he thought, grimly. They must have given up on trying to hold the city.
“The recon units will advance, carefully,” the Rhino said, finally. “Report at once if you run into trouble.”
Charles braced himself and led the way into the alien city. He’d been in the Middle East, China and even Russia, but none of their cities had ever given him such an odd feeling in his bones. Part of him was still captivated by the alien city, part of him found the whole structure oddly creepy. Up close, it was easy to tell the city hadn't been built for humans. There were doors that were simply too small for anyone larger than a kid. But for an alien, with their immensely flexible bodies, they would be easy to use.
He forced his way into one icy block – the walls did look to be covered with ice, although he had no idea why – and looked around. There was nothing, apart from a large pool in one corner of the room; when he peered inside, he saw a handful of fish-like creatures swimming in the water. Pets, he wondered, or a food supply? It was impossible to tell. He looked into the next room, remembering all the lectures on how best to search a site for anything the intelligence types would find useful, and saw a handful of plastic sheets on the floor. When he picked them up, he saw writing on them.
“Good find,” Sergeant Jackson complimented him.
Charles snorted as they walked out of the building. The alien writing hadn't been deciphered, even though it wasn't the first time they’d recovered samples from an alien base. For all he knew, they’d picked up the alien counterpart to great literature – or pornography. The reports had suggested that the aliens were actually nowhere near as sexual as humanity, but Charles was inclined to dismiss that as wishful thinking. In his view, the mating urge was one of the prime drivers of human civilisation.
But if the aliens reproduce like frogs, he asked himself, would they even have anything like sex?
Inch by inch, the Marines spread through the city, carefully inspecting every last room and compartment. There was no resistance, not even a single sighting of an alien, merely endless rooms, some of which were filled with incomprehensible machines. The Marines marked them down for larger removal by the intelligence officers, then passed on to the next section, hunting for signs of where the aliens had gone. Charles peered out over the ocean, waves lapping against the edges of the city, and knew the answer. The aliens had gone underwater, where humans couldn't follow.
“Pull back to Base Camp,” the Rhino ordered, finally. “The follow-up forces can continue the searches.”
Charles nodded, relieved. It had been hours since they’d landed – and it felt like days. If it hadn't been for the suit, he would probably have reached the limits of his endurance long ago. Instead, he led the way back to the Base Camp, which had been established alarmingly close to the city. A handful of Marines were already pumping water from the nearby river and using it to help set up the base. Others were working on the damaged tanks. He removed his suit, detailed Sergeant Jackson to look after the remainder of the Marines, then went looking for his commanding officer.
The Rhino met him in the mobile control centre, which had already been buried under a protective canopy of earth. he didn't look happy; Charles knew he would have preferred to command from his suit, rather than a vehicle that was a clear target if the enemy managed to parse their way through humanity’s datanet. But with units from several different countries operating in the field, he couldn't afford any miscommunications.
“Good work,” the Rhino grunted. “Opposition seems to have faded away entirely.”
Charles nodded, looking at the Blue Force Tracker display. The humans had secured the coastal cities, having smashed the planetary defence fortresses, but the aliens had largely withdrawn into the waters. Stalemate, it seemed, at least until the humans could start deploying the underwater probes. But it would take several days before they felt comfortable enough to start bringing scientists, some civilian, down to the planet’s surface.
“They weren't ready for us,” he said. “The next time we force a landing on an alien world, sir, it will be a great deal harder.”
“Almost certainly,” the Rhino agreed. He slapped Charles on the back. “Go get some sleep, mate. You’ll be useless to yourself and your men when you’re half-dead on your feet.”
Outside, the sun was already starting to set. Charles looked towards a glow in the distance, realised to his amusement that a handful of soldie
rs were smoking, then up towards the sky. Hundreds of pieces of debris were still tumbling through the atmosphere, leaving fiery trails as they burnt up and vanished. Beyond, there was no sign of the fleet. It was still holding station some distance from the planet.
Lucky bastards, he thought. Night was falling rapidly now, sending chills down his spine. There was a faint smell in the air, he realised now, that was completely alien. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to sleep well, no matter how tired he was. They don’t see the mud on our boots.
With that thought, he headed for the tent and sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Stand down from Red Alert,” Ted ordered. “But maintain a full sensor watch at all times.”
“Yes, sir,” Lopez said. “Do you wish us to enter orbit?”
Ted shook his head. It would be irritating and inconvenient to the Marines, but entering orbit – particularly when there were still thousands of pieces of debris floating through space – posed too many risks to the fleet. The aliens might still have plasma weapons hidden on the surface, even if space debris didn't become a threat. Besides, he wanted room to manoeuvre when the aliens returned to the system in force.
“We’ll stay here, but keep randomising our positions,” he ordered. Just because the aliens hadn't shown mass drivers yet didn't mean they couldn't produce them. There was nothing particularly complex about the technology. “And make sure that we maintain regular CSP around the carriers.”
He looked down at the display, suddenly feeling very tired. The fleet had shot through nearly its entire supply of loaded missiles, something that would cost them if they had to return to battle within the next few hours. If they hadn't brought the bombers along, Ted knew, Target One’s defenders would have won the battle, forcing him to either risk deploying mass drivers or withdrawing, conceding defeat. It wouldn't have set a good precedent for future operations ...
“Yes, sir,” Lopez said.
“And order the resupply officers to begin resupplying the fleet,” Ted continued. “I want us loaded to the gunwales as quickly as possible.”
He wondered, briefly, what the other commanders were feeling. The French and Japanese had good reason to be relieved; they’d each lost a carrier at New Russia and the victory at Target One had gone some way towards redeeming their navies. But then, if Ark Royal hadn't been kept in reserve, the Royal Navy would have been smashed within six months of the war’s start. And the Americans ... they’d actually lost a carrier.
Ted glanced down at the reports from the SAR teams. Only a handful of crewmen saved, out of a complement that numbered in the thousands. It was a serious loss to any of the interstellar powers, he knew; spacers couldn’t be trained as easily as soldiers. The Royal Navy was already threatening to start conscripting merchant spacers, even though there weren't enough of them either. They’d probably have to design yet another accelerated training program, he reasoned, with all the problems that would cause.
He’d expected losses, he knew. God knew he’d lost men and women in combat before; starfighter pilots, the crews of the frigates that had escorted Ark Royal into combat, even a handful of Royal Marines. But losing so many stung, even if he hadn't known them personally. And yet, even though he knew it could have been worse, it still nagged at his mind.
“I need to speak to Admiral Shallcross,” he said. “Establish the link.”
Moments later, Admiral Shallcross’s face appeared in front of him. “Admiral?”
The American looked tired and worn, Ted decided, at least as tired as Ted felt himself. The entire fleet needed a rest, he knew, but it was unlikely the aliens would give them much chance to relax. They might have blown up the orbital installations to prevent the humans from getting their hands on them, yet they had to know that humanity could pull secrets from the groundside cities too. No, they would take as little time as possible to mount a counterattack.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ted said, formally. There would be no time to hold a fleet-wide ceremony before they returned to Earth, but there was nothing stopping him from expressing his condolences. “The carrier and her crew fought well and deserved better.”
“I know. Admiral,” Shallcross said. “But we will have our revenge, in time.”
Ted nodded, feeling oddly relieved that the alien civilians had vanished below the waves. He had faith in his landing forces to remain disciplined, but he knew all too well just how badly discipline could suffer under the weight of strong emotion. Civilians had been abused before by soldiers and no amount of later recompense could make up for the damage. But then, there weren't many humans who would argue the aliens deserved any concern at all.
“We will,” he agreed. “However, we also need to proceed with the resupply operations as quickly as possible, then start smashing the rest of the system. Can you handle the fighters from Roosevelt?”
“We would prefer to pass some of them over to you,” Shallcross said. “Or fly them from Napoleon, if necessary.”
“Speak to her commander; tell him I authorised it if he balks,” Ted said. He understood why the Frenchman would want to balk – the American pilots wouldn't have been trained to launch from a French carrier – but there was no time to deal with it. “His pilots can be launched first, I think.”
“That won't please my pilots,” Shallcross said, darkly. They shared a look of understanding; fighter pilots were trained to be aggressive, to get out into space and start fighting the enemy. “But they’ll cope with it.”
Ted smiled. “Good,” he said. “Once we have completed the resupply operations, we’ll start attacking the other installations within the system. The frigates can handle that, I think, which will allow us to keep the carriers here.”
“Probably the best course of action,” Shallcross agreed. “How long do you think we have before they come back?”
“As short as they can make it,” Ted said. He made a mental note to dispatch other frigates to peek through the other tramlines. They needed to know what was on the far side before it was too late. “But we will see, Admiral. They might have problems working out just what we have in mind.”
He smiled as he closed the connection. It was unlikely the aliens would leave them in peace long enough to complete the destruction of the system’s facilities, but he could hope. And, if they did, he could pull the fleet out through Tramline One or attack targets of opportunity along the other Tramlines, depending on just what they found on the far side.
“Admiral,” Lopez said. “You really need to get some sleep.”
“You keep telling me that,” Ted said. He shook his head, shortly. It was her job to tell him when he needed sleep. “I’ll be in my office. Wake me the moment – and I mean the moment – something happens.”
He stood, nodded to his officers, and strode out of the CIC.
***
“We’re reloading the missile tubes now,” Amelia said. The XO had to be as tired as everyone else, but she didn't seem to have a single hair out of place. “The missiles were less effective than we had hoped.”
“The aliens had too much time to plot their course and plan an intercept,” James said, rubbing his forehead. The bomb-pumped lasers had seemed a dream come true, the answer to the problem of getting close enough to the alien ships to do real damage. But, like all weapons systems, they could be countered by a cunning adversary. “And they’re too fragile to take even a minor hit without being destroyed.”
He looked down at the report from the analysts. They’d managed – as always – to produce dozens of pages worth of blather, but the basics were clear. The missiles were effective, but not effective enough. Somehow, the lasers needed to be triggered further from the alien ships, which reduced their effectiveness considerably.
“Maybe we need to return to the mass driver concept,” Amelia said. She looked down at the terminal, then back up at him. “And just keep throwing projectiles at them.”
James considered it, then smiled as another idea struck him
. “We need to cut down on their reaction time,” he said. “Maybe we could launch the missiles on a ballistic trajectory, then trigger their drives when they get closer to their targets.”
“We’d need a two-stage missile,” Amelia observed. “Admiral Webster has been trying to get that concept to work for years.”
“Maybe we could launch the missiles through a mass driver-like system instead,” James said, after a moment’s thought. “There wouldn't even be a launch flare to warn the aliens ... hell, we can deliberately aim to miss.”
His XO frowned. “Aim to miss?”
“You can't alter a mass driver projectile’s course in transit,” James pointed out. “So the aliens have a habit of disregarding projectiles they know are harmless, because they’re not going to go anywhere near their ships.”
“But if the projectile happens to be a missile, it can alter course,” Amelia said, grinning. It utterly transformed her face. “And then hit the aliens in the back.”
“Or at least go active long enough to confuse them,” James said. “Make them work to blow them out of space.”
Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch Page 24