Ark Royal (29 page)

Ted smiled.  “Pull us back towards the tramline,” he ordered, as the alien sensors started to sweep through space for a hint of the flotilla’s presence.  If they managed to get out of the system before the aliens got a clear lock on them, the aliens would waste hours searching for a flotilla that had already departed.  Or maybe they’d just blame everything on the Russian stragglers in the outer system.  “What about the Russian commandos?”

“They made it into the atmosphere,” Farley said, checking the live feed from one of the probes.  “Other than that ... we don't know.”

Ted silently wished them good luck, then turned his attention back to the swarming alien fighters.  The aliens seemed determined to ramp up their sensors to the point where human sensors would significantly damage themselves, although their ships showed no traces of the problems human sensors would rapidly develop.  Behind the sensor sweeps, swarms of starfighters were advancing forwards, heading towards the human tramlines.  Someone, Ted realised, was thinking ahead.  The tramlines were the only way out of the system and blocking them was the quickest way to prevent
Ark Royal
from escaping.

“Accelerate towards Tramline Three,” he ordered.  The alien starfighters would get there first, but he was quite prepared to bet that
Ark Royal
could blast her way through them even without the help of the flotilla.  “Launch a second set of drones towards the alien ships and ...”

The display flared red for a long chilling moment, then faded back to black.  “They swept us with a high-power radar,” Farley reported.  Long minutes passed as they waited to see if the aliens would lock on, then the display turned red again.  This time, it stayed that way.  “They’ve got a solid fix on our location.”

Ted swore, although he’d expected it from the moment the aliens had started powering up their sensors. 
Ark Royal
might have been impossible to separate from an asteroid if she’d been lying doggo, but a carrier moving at high speed was instantly recognisable.  On the display, a swarm of alien starfighters turned and gave chase, followed by the smaller ships.

“Order our starfighters to prepare to launch,” Ted ordered.  “Go active; ramp up our own sensors as much as possible.  There’s no point in trying to hide any longer.”

“I guess we poked the hornet’s nest,” Fitzwilliam said, from the CIC.  “Mass drivers are unlikely to score hits at this range.”

Ted nodded.  The alien ships were accelerating forwards, but they were also altering their courses randomly, making it impossible to predict their location in time to fire at them with the mass drivers.  Besides, with a swarm of starfighters covering their asses, it was unlikely that any projectiles would get through and do some real damage.  Shotgunning them might have an effect, but not enough to make the expenditure worthwhile.

“The newcomers are also on their way,” Farley noted.  “They’re pulling quite a high clip.”

“Fast buggers,” Fitzwilliam’s voice said.  “I don’t think we could match them.”

“True,” Ted agreed.  The alien carriers didn't seem to have a better acceleration rate that a modern human carrier – which still gave them an edge over
Ark Royal
– but the alien battlecruisers definitely had the highest acceleration rate ever recorded.  It would be tricky for a human ship to match it, at least without heavy reengineering.  But it was clear that they were going to have to do just that, sooner rather than later.  “Calculate prospective intercept vectors.”

He ran through them in his head, then checked them against the computer.  The larger alien ships were unlikely to run them down until they crossed the tramline, but the smaller fighters would definitely try to slow them down.  Even if they hadn't improved their weaponry, Ted knew he couldn't rule out the prospect of a lucky shot ... or, for that matter, the simple destruction of his ship’s ability to shoot back.  Once they’d stripped
Ark Royal
of her defences, they would allow the bigger ships to catch up and blow his carrier apart.

“Enemy fighters will enter intercept range in ten minutes,” Farley warned.

And if they had mass drivers, they would have used them by now
, Ted told himself.  He hoped, desperately, that he was right.  A single direct hit with a mass driver would smash his ship like an eggshell.

“Launch fighters at the seven minute mark,” Ted ordered.  That should give his pilots enough time to launch and get into intercept position.  “Hold the bombers for the moment.”

Silently, he cursed the decision not to build any more
Ark Royal
-class carriers ... or even makeshift escort carriers.  He didn't have the starfighters to cover both his hull
and
escort the bombers to their targets, while the aliens – with their multirole fighters – had no trouble doing both.  Maybe he should have pleaded with the Admiralty to assign additional modern carriers to the flotilla ... but he knew they would have refused.  The modern carriers, once the queens of space, were now too vulnerable to be easily risked.

“Aye, sir,” Farley said.  “Fighters are primed now.”

“Use one of the drones to try to raise the planet,” Ted ordered.  If the Russians had any form of passive sensors left in orbit – or even simple ground-based telescopes – they'd know that
someone
was attacking the occupation force.  And there was definitely no point in trying to hide now.  “Transmit the pre-recorded message and wait for a reply.”

Until the drone is destroyed
, he thought, absently.  The planners might not have realised it, but the moment the drone started transmitting its signal, the aliens would know precisely where it was lurking.  They’d send a starfighter to vaporise it within minutes.  But at least the Russians on the ground, assuming they still have a radio receiver, would know that they weren't alone. 

But they’d also know that the human raiders had retreated.

He shook his head, absently.  There was no alternative.  The Russians would know, at least, that the rest of human space remained free ... and that the aliens were far from invincible.   And they would have hope ...

***

To an unprepared civilian, the tactical display was a indecipherable mixture of red and green lights, dancing around in seemingly random patterns.  The fact that most of his fellow reporters couldn't understand what they were seeing, Marcus Yang suspected, was all that was stopping them from panicking.  Marcus, who
could
read it, could tell that a formidable alien force was giving chase, bent on destroying the imprudent carrier that had given them a bloody nose.

He settled back, watching – with some private amusement – the reactions shown by his fellow reporters.  Barbie seemed shocked at the carnage, even though it was minuscule compared to the Battle of New Russia.  No, the
first
Battle of New Russia, he corrected himself.  One way or another, this was definitely the second.  Other reporters seemed almost pleased.  They knew that humanity hitting back would make for high ratings ... assuming, of course, they survived the experience.

Barbie looked over at him, her too-wide eyes disturbingly inhuman in the darkened compartment.  “What is happening now?”

Marcus hesitated, then made a deliberate decision to be kind.  “We’re withdrawing from the system,” he said, which was true enough.  If, of course, a few of the details – such as an onrushing alien fleet – were left out.  “You’ll have time to file your story soon enough.”

Barbie gave him a pitiful glare.  “How can you be so calm?”

Marcus shrugged.  “Whatever happens, happens,” he said.  Being an embed in ground forces had taught him that bullets, IEDs and mortar shells were no respecters of press credentials.  Nor were insurgents, as a general rule, and they tended to be savvy enough to check which reporters they’d kidnapped before deciding what to do with them.  Some reporters had been released with exclusive interviews, others had been brutally raped, tortured and then murdered.  “There's nothing I can do about it, so why worry?”

He smiled at her.  The display kept them curiously disconnected from reality, but that would change when the aliens started hammering at
Ark Royal’s
hull.  And they would, he was sure; this time, the aliens had enough firepower to just punch their way through the carrier’s defenders.

“You may as well relax too,” he added.  “There’s nothing you can do to help or hinder operations.”

***

“Launch fighters,” Ted ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Farley said.  He pressed a switch on his console.  “Fighters launching, now.”

***

Kurt winced as the starfighter rocketed out the launch tube and into open space, followed rapidly by the rest of his pilots.  Ahead of them, one cluster of alien fighters rested on the tramline; behind them, a colossal cloud of alien starfighters was catching up rapidly with the flotilla.  There were so many of them that the sensors seemed to be having problems picking individual starfighters out of the cloud.  Kurt had never seen so many starfighters outside exercises and flying displays for the King’s birthday.

“Wonderful,” Rose said.  She sounded better, now they were in open space with an enemy force bearing down on them.  They could take their frustration out on the enemy pilots.  “I make it twenty enemy fighters each.  We’ll all be aces by the time this is done.”

“True,” Kurt agreed.  “Alpha and Beta squadrons; break up the enemy formation.  Delta and Gamma, mind the carrier.”

The starfighters rocketed forwards, slipping past the frigates moving into intercept positions.  Kurt scowled at them, hoping and praying that the IFF systems worked perfectly, even though he feared they wouldn’t.  It was bad enough with British systems alone, but when several other nations were involved ... he gritted his teeth.  In hindsight, the strongest argument against there being any foreknowledge of the alien attack was that there had been no attempt to ensure that all human technology was compatible.

But if someone had tried
, he thought,
would it have been accepted
?

He pushed the thought aside as his squadron raced towards the alien craft at a staggering closing speed.  Quickly, he flipped his weapons on to automatic – he'd have to gamble that the computers didn't accidentally take a shot at an allied starfighter – then braced himself, keeping his starfighter on a random course.  It seemed only seconds before the guns started chattering away, spitting out tiny balls of metal towards the alien fighters.  Kurt saw a handful of icons vanish from the display, only to be replaced instantly by other alien craft. 
His
starfighters weren't replaced so quickly ...

“Alpha-five and Alpha-seven are gone,” Alpha-nine reported.  Kurt hadn't even
seen
Alpha-seven die.  “Alpha-three is disabled ...”

Lucky bastard
, Kurt thought.  A fluke, a million-to-one shot that had damaged a starfighter, rather than destroying it outright.  Behind him, the alien starfighters disengaged and roared towards the flotilla.  Cursing, he yanked his starfighter around and gave chase, while Delta and Gamma squadrons rose up to cover the carrier.  There were so many alien starfighters that some of them were almost certain to get through.

***

“Incoming starfighters,” Farley reported.  “Weapons range in thirty seconds.”

“Open fire as soon as they enter effective weapons range,” Ted ordered.  The alien starfighters were ducking and weaving past the frigates, refusing to engage them.  It made sense, Ted knew; if they could cripple
Ark Royal
, the frigates were unlikely to make any difference to the balance of power.  Still, he would have preferred the aliens to show tactical inflexibility rather than a limited degree of imagination.  “Fire at will.”

He braced himself as the starfighters roared down on the carrier, scorching her hull with plasma bolts.  It looked like random fire – it
was
random fire, he knew – but it had a very definite purpose.  The aliens didn't have to target precisely to do damage ... and, for them, spraying and praying was actually a viable tactic.  Piece by piece, the damage mounted ...

The carrier shuddered, slightly.

“Report,” Ted snapped.

“One of the aliens crashed into our hull,” Anderson said.  “No major damage, sir.”

But the minor damage was steadily mounting up, Ted knew.  One of the mass drivers was already crippled and would need a week of repair before it was ready to use again.  Other weapons and sensor blisters had already been destroyed, crippling the carrier’s ability to defend herself.

“Captain,” Farley snapped.  Ted heard a hint of panic in his voice.  “New contacts!”

Ted swung around and stared at the display.  A new series of red icons had appeared, right in front of them ... and blocking their escape route from the system.

They were trapped.

Chapter Twenty-Three

For a moment, Ted’s tired mind refused to believe his eyes.  How the hell had the aliens managed to get a force in position to come through the tramline and block their escape?  If the aliens had a way to communicate at FTL speeds, without sending ships through the tramlines, humanity was thoroughly screwed.  There was no way to move inside the alien decision-making loop when the alien leadership could follow events at the front from hundreds of light years away. 

Or was it just sheer luck?  The aliens had known that the flotilla was poking around; they might have stationed a fleet in the system, then ordered it to move after
Ark Royal
once the alien fleet at New Russia came under attack.  It would work ... and it would have the advantage of confusing their enemies.  Ted pushed the thought aside for later contemplation as the aliens started to deploy.  He could attack the newcomers – he would have to attack the newcomers, if he wanted to use that tramline – and yet the force in to pursuit would catch up and overwhelm the flotilla.  If he turned back to fight them, he would still be overwhelmed.