A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (15 page)

He paused, for a moment, outside the memorial in the exact centre of the giant supercarrier and bowed his head.  Had it really been six years since he'd first set eyes on Admiral Smith - and five since his death?  It had seemed so easy to unseat the older man from his command chair, to take
Ark Royal
for himself.  No one had seriously expected the ancient museum piece to be the only starship actually capable of facing the Tadpoles in open battle.  James had honestly thought he’d spend a year in command, then use it as a footstep to command of a modern fleet carrier. 

And if I had kept command
, he thought,
it would have been disastrous
.

His cheeks burned as he remembered the very first meeting.  He’d thought Smith a drunkard; he’d thought the meeting a formality before Smith was shuffled off somewhere even more harmless than a decaying supercarrier.  Instead, Smith had coolly pointed out that
James
was utterly unready to command the Old Lady - and succeeded in retaining his command.  He’d been right, James had to concede.  His younger self had been an idiot.

He saluted the portrait - he couldn't remember Admiral Smith ever looking so good in real life, but the artist had probably never seen him in person - and then headed onwards, visiting compartment after compartment.  He’d helped to design the ship, yet there had been quite a few changes as the yards struggled to turn the concept into reality.  The combination of modern drives and older-style armour alone had caused a whole string of problems.

His wristcom buzzed.  “Admiral,” Susan said.  “We’re ready to depart.  Do you wish to watch from the bridge?”

James hesitated. 
He’d
commanded
Ark Royal
during Operation Nelson and he’d been irked at how Admiral Smith had watched over his shoulder.  It had been understandable - Smith had served on
Ark Royal
longer than James had been in the Royal Navy - but it had been annoying.  The Royal Navy had long established that the ship’s captain held final authority while a starship was in transit, yet few commanding officers would have the nerve to tell off an admiral.  It didn't help that the commander of a shuttle, who might be a lowly midshipman, would technically have the right to issue orders to a senior officer.

“No, thank you,” he said, finally.  “I’ll watch from CIC.”

A dull tremor ran through the giant ship as he turned and slowly walked back to the CIC, taking his seat underneath the main holographic display.  It was standardised - he'd used one like it during his first command along the border - but he made a mental note to start working through all the possible scenarios once they were underway.  Another quiver ran through the ship - the drivers coming online - and he smiled.  The temptation to just take the intership car up to the bridge was almost overwhelming. 

Better let Susan handle it
, he told himself, firmly. 
She doesn't need you in the way
.

“Admiral,” Commander Eland said.  He was a newcomer, hastily reassigned from HMS
Victorious
, but he’d worked hard to fit into the command staff.  “Nelson Base has cleared the fleet for departure.”

“Good,” James said.  “Has the rest of the task force checked in?”

“Yes, sir,” Eland said.  “There are no problems.”

James settled back in his chair.  Fifteen warships - with nine more waiting to meet them at Terra Nova - three assault ships, three RFA support ships and ten freighters crammed with supplies.  There would be more on the way, he knew, once several more warships had assembled at Nelson Base to provide an escort.  Unless the Indians rolled over the moment the Royal Navy arrived, which he doubted, they’d have to burn through their supplies at a terrifying rate.

But it’s the most formidable task force the Royal Navy put together since the war
, he thought, grimly.  It seemed impossible that the Indians could make a stand against it, yet Soskice - damn the man - had awakened a kernel of doubt. 
If we lose, here and now, there will be no second chance.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought.  They’d assumed, right up until the end, that the Tadpoles had wanted to exterminate the human race.  Some of their factions, certainly, had been determined to do just that, wiping out the threat they thought humanity was to them.  There had been no way to back down, no way to avoid the fight; they’d thought the choice was between fighting to the last or utter extinction. 

But the Indians can’t defeat us completely, any more than we can defeat them
, he thought, sourly. 
The politicians might just decide to swallow the insult rather than go back to war
.

Susan’s face appeared in front of him.  “Admiral,” she said.  “We will be leaving orbit in five minutes.”

“Good,” James said.  There was no point in trying to hide.  Indeed, he expected a number of other foreign warships to shadow the task force.  Some of them would be covertly supporting the Indians, he was sure, but others would be trying to learn what they could from the first human-on-human interstellar war.  “You may take us out on schedule.”

Chapter Fourteen

HMS
Warspite
, Pegasus System

“Two new starships detected,” Tara said, softly.  “They’re either destroyers or frigates.”

John nodded, feeling the tension rising again.  There were fifteen Indian starships within detection range - and more, perhaps, lurking in stealth mode.  A handful was near the carrier, covering her against incoming threats, while the remainder were orbiting Clarke III or surveying the system.  John wasn't sure why they thought they needed to bother - they’d certainly have obtained copies of the Royal Navy’s survey results - but it did have the advantage of keeping a number of ships away from the danger zone.  They wouldn’t be able to intervene if the shit hit the fan.

Not that it would matter that much
, he thought, as he silently worked through the vectors in his head. 
They’d have plenty of time to concentrate their forces before the task force arrives.

“The carrier is running a regular active sensor sweep,” Tara added.  “I don’t think we can slip into weapons range without being detected.”

“They’d be worried about space junk,” John said.  There was no shortage of tiny pieces of debris orbiting the gas giant.  The last time he’d been in the system, the scientists had speculated that a moon had broken up millions of years ago and most of the remains had entered stable orbits.  There’d even been an interesting argument over just
why
the moon had broken up in the first place.  “But it does make it easier for us to keep tabs on where they are at any given time.”

“Unless that’s what they want us to think,” Howard offered.  “We don’t have eyeballs on the target.”

John nodded.  The Indians could fake a carrier, if they wanted; the
real
carrier could be concealed under stealth mode while the fake carrier drew fire from any incoming ships.  There was no way to tell the difference, save for watching the carrier launch starfighters or move out of orbit.  And even the latter could be faked, if the Indians were prepared to put in the effort.  Given the value of a supercarrier, John wouldn't have cared to bet against it.

“We’ll slip a platform as close as possible to the carrier on the way out,” he said.  The original settlement hadn't included any stealthed platforms; there'd seemed no reason to prepare the system for enemy occupation.  But really, who would have imagined the chain of events that led to the war?  “Helm?”

Armstrong looked up.  “Yes, sir?”

“Keep us inching towards the moon,” John ordered.  “We’ll deploy the first set of platforms once we get close enough.”

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.

John keyed his console.  “Major Drake” - the SAS officer had been granted a courtesy promotion while onboard ship - “we should be at the deployment zone in two hours.  Is your team ready for deployment?”

“We’re ready to man the shuttle,” Drake confirmed.  “I’ve just got the lads having a brief rest until the mission commences.  All we need to do is get out there and cast off.”

“Good,” John said.  He’d thought himself a brave man - he still had nightmares about the final desperate attack on a Tadpole ship, just after
Canopus
had been destroyed - but the planned deployment to Clarke III sent chills down his spine.  “We’ll alert you thirty minutes prior to shuttle launch time.”

He closed the channel and turned his attention back to the main display.  A handful of automated miners were coming into view, marking yet another Indian effort to assert their control over the system.  It would probably take months, at the very least, to set up a full-scale mining operation - and
that
would raise the question of just what they intended to do with it - but it was a potential nuisance.  Besides, as
Ark Royal
had proven, mining asteroids for raw materials that could be turned into mass driver ammunition wasn't particularly hard. 

And that carrier will be bristling with mass drivers
, he thought, coldly. 
They’ll have been planning to fight the Tadpoles, if necessary
.

It wasn't a pleasant thought.  Mass drivers didn't throw their projectiles at the speed of light - it was impossible for
anything
with mass to travel at the speed of light - but there would be very little warning before a mass driver shell slammed into
Warspite
.  His ship was nimble - certainly when compared to a carrier - yet it would be hard to evade the projectile before it was too late.  The only other countermeasure, besides moving the ship, was hitting the projectile with something hard enough to destroy it and taking the shot in time would be difficult.  He couldn't recall it ever having been tried outside simulations.

Wonderful
, he mused. 
We’re going to be testing all the war-fighting theories of the past five years for the first time
.

John forced himself to relax as the moon grew closer.  The Indians were clearly establishing an orbiting station, rather than relying on their ships; it looked, very much, as though they were planning to establish a habitable asteroid too.  They were
definitely
planning to stay.  John was surprised they were prepared to make the investment, but overshadowing the British commitment would be one way to make their control stick.  Even so, it was about as odd as setting up a mining operation.  The investment might be completely wasted, if the Royal Navy took the system ... and, if the Royal Navy was defeated, it would still be a long time before the investments started to pay off.  It was quite possible the Indians would be going into debt, even if the war ended with them in control of both Pegasus and Cromwell ...

They must be very confident of victory
, he told himself. 
Or are they holding out for a share in the system regardless of who wins the war
?

He considered the point for a long moment.  Terra Nova was the only human-settled star system where the locals didn't exert any control beyond their planet’s atmosphere.  Even if they did manage to unite their world and start building a navy, the other interstellar powers would object.  There wasn’t a single nation that didn’t have interests, directly or indirectly, in the Terra Nova System.  The standard rules of ownership simply didn't apply.  But Britain owned the rights to Pegasus ...

Unless they plan to assert that their investments aren't connected to the war
, he thought. 
And that capturing them would be naked theft
.

He made a mental note to discuss the possibility with the Admiral - it was well above his pay grade - and then turned his attention to reports from engineering.  The recon platforms were ready for deployment, each one crammed with passive sensors and completely undetectable unless the Indians got
very
lucky.  Once emplaced, the Royal Navy would have a record of every Indian starship that went active, as well as shuttles flying to and from the colony on Clarke.  The intelligence staff would be able to make a number of very good guesses about just what the Indians were planning ...

“Captain,” Armstrong said.  “We have reached the first deployment point.”

John took a breath.  “Deploy the first platform,” he ordered.  In theory, the Indians shouldn't be able to detect them, but it wouldn't be the first time someone accidentally radiated a betraying emission.  “Now!”

“Aye, Captain,” Tara said.  There was a long chilling pause.  “Platform deployed, sir.  Laser link established; coordinates set.”

“Recheck everything,” John ordered, tersely.  There was no room for errors.  The first platform could
not
be lost without risking the entire network.  “Confirm status.”

“All systems go,” Tara confirmed.  “Live feed coming through the network now.”

“Good,” John said.  “Helm, move us to the second deployment point.  Prepare to launch the second platform.”

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.

It was nearly an hour before all seven recon platforms were deployed, two stealthily making their way towards Clarke III while the remainder held position in orbit around the gas giant, linked together by pinpoint laser beams.  There would be almost no chance of the Indians detecting them, John was sure, and in the unlikely event of a miner stumbling across them the platforms would self-destruct, ensuring that nothing fell into enemy hands.  The boffins had been very insistent on that, pointing out the dangers of allowing the Indians a good look at British stealth and recon technology.  John suspected the Indians weren’t far behind - if at all - but there was no point in arguing.  Trying to prevent the Indians from gaining any insight into British capabilities was worth any effort.

Not that it matters
, he thought, glumly. 
If they stumble across a platform, even if it destroys itself, they’ll know they’re being watched
.

“Move us to the final deployment point,” he ordered.  “Keep a direct laser link to Platform One.”

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.  “We’re on the move.”

John nodded, feeling sweat running down his back.  He didn't dare take
Warspite
any closer to Clarke III, not when the Indians had presumably scattered recon platforms of their own around the tiny moon.  The SAS would be running a gauntlet ... and, from what he knew of the stealth shuttles, they’d be dead if the Indians got a sniff of their presence.  They were simply designed for nothing more than being undetectable.  A single plasma burst would be more than enough to swat them out of existence.

“Captain,” Tara said.  “The carrier is launching a flight of starfighters.”

John braced himself.  The carrier was
real
.  It
had
to be real, unless the Indians had managed to fake a flight of starfighters.  “Are they coming towards us?”

“No, Captain,” Tara said.  “It looks like a standard training flight.”

“Keep watching them,” John said.  He studied the formation for a long moment, then nodded slowly.  It
did
look like a training formation.  The Royal Navy - and God knew there was no sign the Indians disagreed - believed in regular training fights and exercises, even during deployments.  It was vitally important to keep the pilots at their best.  “Let me know the moment anything changes.”

“Aye, Captain,” Tara said.

John watched the Indians for a long moment as
Warspite
made her way towards the final deployment point.  The starfighters would have no trouble catching up with his ship if they detected her presence, which would force him to test Admiral Soskice’s theories in real life while he tried hard to put as much distance as he could between
Warspite
and the Indian capital ships.  His ship was crammed with point defence weapons, but how well would they work in practice?  The simulations changed depending on what assumptions one fed into the system.

We may be about to find out
, he thought.  Another flight of starfighters launched from the Indian carrier, falling into a very definite exercise formation.  No one in their right mind would fly in a predictable pattern during wartime, no matter how elegant it was.  They’d be blown out of space before they could realise they were in trouble. 
And then we'd know just which theories actually work
.

The Indian pilots looked to be good, although he thought he could see a certain lack of
real
experience that would cost them, in a real battle.  Exercises, no matter how realistic, were rarely as unpredictable as real combat ... but then, there hadn't
been
any real combat since the war.  And the Indians had only had a handful of officers and men who’d fought in the Battle of Earth.  They certainly hadn’t joined the Great Powers in planning ways to take the offensive.

And no Indian carrier took part in Operation Nelson
, he thought. 
Did they have something planned even as far back as then
?

He shook his head.  In hindsight, it might have been a mistake not to take the Indians seriously, but there was nothing to be done about it now.  Once the war was over, there would be time to place international affairs on a whole new footing.  And that, too, was well above his pay grade.