Ark Royal

Chapter Nine

No one had bothered to give the system a name, not even the miners who had flocked to the asteroid cluster when a survey party had discovered that the asteroids were rich in raw materials. The brief wave of interest in the system hadn't lasted past the discovery of other sources in more habitable systems, leaving a handful of miners and settlers making a living from selling what they mined at low cost. According to the database, most of the settlers really wanted to isolate themselves from the rest of the human race.

It was hard to escape the feeling, James decided, that they had succeeded. If Ark Royal hadn't known the settlements were there, it was quite possible that they would have been overlooked. They were really nothing more than a handful of mined-out asteroids, closed ecosystems powered by solar collectors. There wasn't much room for expansion, he knew, but they could maintain their position for hundreds of years before they had to make some hard choices. By then, human space would have changed so radically that who knew what sort of society would greet them, if they chose to return home?

Ark Royal hung near the tramline to Earth — or where the tramline would be, if the Old Lady’s drive had been able to use it. Predicting where the aliens might go was easy enough, assuming that the First Space Lord’s calculations had been correct. There was certainly nothing else to interest the aliens; the settlements weren't worth the effort of destroying them, assuming that the aliens weren’t bent on total genocide. But if they were wrong…

He looked up at the display, seeing a handful of fast-attack frigates hanging close to the massive carrier. They’d arrived the day after Ark Royal, bringing updates from Earth, including records from a Russian starship that had remained concealed and watched as the aliens landed on New Russia. Apparently, the aliens had bombarded the planetary defence centres, but otherwise ignored the human population. James couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. It was good, because it suggested that the aliens weren't bent on genocide after all, yet it was also bad because it prevented contact between humans and aliens. There was no hope of opening a dialogue that might result in peace talks.

Not that they have to worry, he thought, grimly. As long as they’re winning, they can dictate terms to us and we will have to bend over and take them.

“Captain on the deck,” the duty officer said.

James turned to see Captain Smith entering the CIC. The Captain looked galvanised, but — like the rest of his crew — he was clearly worried about what they were doing in the unnamed system. If they were wrong about the alien plans, they were quite likely to discover it the hard way, when they finally returned to Earth and found it under alien occupation. James was merely relieved that the Captain hadn't started to drink again. If he did, James would have to relieve him of command… which would almost certainly doom James’s career too.

“Captain,” he said. “We have finished deploying the decoys.”

The Captain nodded. They’d hashed out the possibilities endlessly, but one thing had been clear from the start. They would have to lure the aliens to their position, not gamble on the aliens appearing right next to them. Any planetary system, even one orbiting an insignificant red dwarf, was so vast that the odds against them being in the right place were staggeringly high. But if the aliens thought they had a valid set of targets…

“Activate them,” the Captain ordered. “And hope that they fool the aliens.”

James nodded. The drones were the most advanced decoys produced by human technology, but no one knew what the aliens would make of them. If their sensor technology was advanced enough, they would probably realise that the decoys weren't real carriers and give them a wide berth. Or maybe they would assume that the decoys were nothing more than a bluff.

He keyed a switch, activating the drones. Sensor ghosts appeared briefly on the display, showing the location of five modern carriers. Even knowing that the images weren't real, Ark Royal’s sensor crews had difficulty separating the illusions from reality. Hopefully, the aliens wouldn’t question what they saw.

“They won’t see any starfighters,” he warned. “Or, rather, they won’t see enough starfighters.”

The Captain shrugged. Ark Royal carried four wings of starfighters; a modern carrier could carry ten, along with a small armada of smaller craft. There was no way their four wings could pretend to be the fighters attached to five modern carriers, but if they were lucky the aliens would assume that the remaining fighters hadn't been launched. Or maybe they would think that the human carriers were trying to retreat…

James made a face. There were too many flaws in the plan for him to be entirely comfortable with it.

Idiot, he told himself. If you’d taken command, you would have to grapple with the same problems yourself.

An alarm sounded, making him jump. “Sir,” Farley said, “we just picked up a warning signal from the sensor drones. Seven enemy carriers and forty smaller ships have just jumped into the system.”

“Show me,” the Captain ordered. Red icons appeared on the display, surrounded by lines projecting their course and speed. They were heading towards the predicted tramline. “It appears we have company.”

“Yes, sir,” James said, feeling cold ice running down the back of his spine. The aliens had chopped through twelve modern carriers… what if they were wrong about Ark Royal’s armour? Or what if they were right… and they were still overwhelmed anyway. “I think they saw the drones.”

On the display, the alien craft altered course. “No fighters,” the Captain noted. “Or are they there and we can’t see them?”

James shrugged. A human CO might keep his pilots in the launch tubes as long as possible, giving them what protection he could, but who knew how the aliens thought?

The Captain keyed his terminal. “Red alert,” he said, “I say again, red alert. All hands to battlestations.”

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 reloading.”

“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…