Ark Royal (27 page)

“Picking up a response,” Farley said.  “They’re sending us a detailed data dump.”

“Run it through the standard security precautions, then pass it to the isolated analyst system,” Ted ordered.  It was unlikely in the extreme that the aliens could produce a virus capable of attacking
Ark Royal’s
computers – and, if they did, it wouldn't be any use against more modern carriers – but there was no point in taking chances.  Besides,
human
opponents might well have worked out ways to attack the ship’s systems.  “And then order one-half of our crews to stand down.”

“Understood,” Fitzwilliam said.  “Will you be resting yourself, Captain?”

“No,” Ted said.  He couldn’t relax ... and if he left the bridge, he might give into the temptation to take a drink or two.  Or, if he took a pill, Fitzwilliam might have to command
Ark Royal
and the flotilla when the aliens finally attacked. 
That
would look awful on his service record.  “But you are to take a nap in your quarters.”

An hour ticked by slowly as the recon platforms inched their way into the inner system, towards the looming presence of New Russia.  The handful of orbital stations the Russians had built to make transhipment easier were gone, not entirely to Ted’s surprise.  Stalin, the larger of the two moons, had once held a large-sized mining colony.  That too was gone, leaving only a scar on the lunar surface.  Judging by the size of the blast, the aliens definitely did have nukes – and were prepared to use them too.  There was nothing else, as far as he knew, that could produce such damage.

“Interesting that they didn't want to capture the facility,” Farley mused.  “They don’t build their starships out of unobtainium or anything unknown to us.  The Russians mined for materials to build starships here.  Why wouldn’t the aliens want it for themselves?”

Ted shrugged.  “Maybe they don’t intend to
keep
New Russia,” he suggested.  “As long as we don’t know where their homeworlds are, they can just keep dancing around us, defying us to catch and crush their fleets.  Eventually, they’d grind us down to the point where they can launch an invasion and occupy our remaining worlds.”

He scowled at the thought.  While they were crawling towards New Russia, the aliens might well have launched their fleets towards Britannia, Washington, Ghandi or even Confucius, targeting humanity’s shipyards and industrial nodes away from Earth.  The thought of Britannia being ravaged by the aliens was horrifying – and he knew the other spacefaring powers would feel the same.  They’d invested literally trillions of pounds in the out-system colonisation program.

The console chimed.  “Sir,” Farley said, “we’ve found the alien fleet.”

“Show me,” Ted ordered.

One by one, the alien fleet came into view.  It wasn't in orbit around New Russia – apart from a handful of frigate-sized craft that seemed to be in low orbit – but lurking some distance from the planet.  Ted puzzled over it for a long moment, then decided that the aliens were clearly preparing an offensive.  As alien as their craft were, they seemed to fall into roles comparable to humanity’s fleets.

“Fourteen carriers, of two different types,” Farley said.  “Fifty-two smaller craft, mainly frigate-sized, and thirty-five freighters.  The latter seem to be transhipping supplies to the carriers.”

Ted cursed their luck.  If they’d arrived in time to take advantage of the alien distraction ... he shook his head.  They’d just have to work with what they had.

“Keep expanding the recon network,” he ordered.  A direct assault on the alien fleet would be suicidal, but there were always options.  “And then let me see what happened when the system fell.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“It doesn't look too different from Earth,” Barbie said.

James rolled his eyes.  New Russia was Earth-like, right down to an ecosystem that could support human settlement, even if it hadn't produced any form of intelligent life form.  The existence of worlds like New Russia had once been used to confirm the theory that humanity was alone in the universe, the sole race to pass through the bottlenecks that led to intelligence and spacefaring status.  That theory, he suspected, wouldn't be heard in future.  God alone knew how many other intelligent races there were out there.

“Yes,” he said.  None of the reporters struck him as particularly intelligent, but Barbie took the cake.  “It is, in fact, a remarkably habitable world.”

He allowed himself a moment of relief as his terminal buzzed, calling him back to the CIC.  Leaving the reporters in the tender care of the PR officers, he stepped through the airlock and walked down the corridor to the CIC.  The Marines on duty nodded as he walked past them, keeping their weapons in plain view.  James rather doubted the aliens would try to board the carrier, but the Marines could and did keep the reporters away from the CIC.  They didn't want to be interrupted by stupid questions in the middle of a battle.

Inside, a holographic representation of New Russia floated in the centre of the giant compartment, surrounded by a handful of red icons.  The alien formation looked oddly familiar; James realised, with a sudden flicker of relief, that it was a formation designed to provide total coverage of the planet below.  They hadn't obliterated the Russian population, thankfully.  Their formation allowed them to keep the humans under control.

“They’ve taken out the spaceports and a handful of military bases,” the analyst muttered, as he worked his way through the tidal wave of incoming data.  “But there doesn't seem to be much damage to any of the cities.”

“For which we should be grateful,” the Captain said.  “Is there an alien presence on the surface?”

“Not that we can pick up from this distance,” the analyst reported.  “We are picking up a handful of alien radio transmissions, but they’re all located several hundred miles from the nearest city.”

James frowned, studying the holographic planet.  “They might be establishing settlements of their own,” he said.  “But surely they’d want to keep a close watch on the human settlements.”

“Surely,” the Captain agreed.  “Assuming, of course, that they think like us.”

He looked over at the analyst.  “Are there any signs they’re occupying the major cities?”

“No, but we would need to move the recon platforms into low orbit to be sure,” the analyst said.  “We can’t pick up individual humans or aliens at this distance.”

The Captain nodded to James, then led the way into a side office.  “It looks like we will have to go with Plan Gamma,” he said, once they were alone.  “Do you have any disagreements?”

James hesitated, then shook his head.  Plan Gamma made no attempt to liberate the planet, instead merely raiding the alien positions before beating a hasty retreat.  Ivan and his team of commandos could try to make it down to the planet's surface while the aliens swarmed around, giving chase to the impudent human carrier .... and then linking into the recon network to upload messages to the next human formation to raid the system.  It should work perfectly.

He shook his head again, sourly.  The aliens had some technology that humanity hadn’t been able to duplicate.  If they had yet another surprise, something that tipped the balance in their favour, they might be able to win the coming battle.  James already knew they didn't dare come within hitting range of an alien frigate.  Small as they were, their plasma cannons could do real damage.

“Then we will launch our unpowered missiles towards the planetary occupation forces and use the mass drivers to target their fleet,” the Captain said.  “They won’t see the first attack coming, I hope, but after that ...”

James scowled.  War was a democracy, he knew.  The enemy got a vote too.

“Tell the Russians to prepare for launch,” the Captain added.  “We will start operations” – he checked his chronometer – “one hour from now.”

***

Ted felt the seconds ticking away one by one as he reviewed the data they’d pulled from the Russian network.  The last Earth had seen of the Battle of New Russia – when the recording starship had made its escape – the aliens had been ripping the defending fleet to shreds.  But there was more.  Some of the Russian starships had made a final stand, fighting desperately to protect their adopted homeworld.  Others had withdrawn into the outer reaches of the system to prepare for the day they could return to New Russia in triumph.

They hadn't been willing to commit themselves, Ted discovered, not entirely to his surprise.  By any reasonable standard,
Ark Royal
was badly outnumbered and outgunned, leaving the Russians convinced that they had to make a hit and run attack, rather than chasing the aliens out of the system.  But they had agreed to record the course of the battle, just so Earth would know what had happened.  It was the most Ted could reasonably expect of them.

“Sir,” Farley said.  “The mass drivers are ready to open fire.”

Ted smiled.  One of the little realities of interplanetary combat that civilians were persistently unable to grasp was that an object, once in motion,
remained
in motion.  There was no need for a rocket engine to push the object forward, not like there would be in a planetary atmosphere.  The mass driver projectiles would keep going until they ran into something ... which, in interplanetary space, wasn't too likely to happen.  It was one of the reasons humanity had shied away from using mass drivers as weapons.  One could be fired at a starship in orbit and miss, hitting the planet instead with terrifying force.

“Good,” he said.  Fourteen of the escorting frigates had their own mass drivers, ready to add their fire to
Ark Royal’s
own.  The targeting wouldn’t be precisely accurate, but hundreds of solid projectiles would be rocketing through space occupied by the alien formation.  Unless, of course, the aliens decided to move before the projectiles reached them.  “You may fire at will.”

The display changed as the first stream of projectiles launched from the giant carrier, rocketing away at a fair percentage of the speed of light.  Ted silently calculated the odds against the aliens spotting them in advance, then silently prayed that the aliens didn't have a piece of technology that shattered humanity’s preconceptions.  The search for a FTL sensor had been one of the holy grails of human technology for so long that most naval officers had come to believe it was impossible.  But they’d believed the same of long-range FTL tramlines.

“Projectiles away, sir,” Farley said.  On the display, the frigates were launching their own projectiles.  “Impact projected in two hours, forty minutes.”

“Continue firing until we have drained our magazines to thirty percent,” Ted ordered.  He was tempted to throw everything he had at the aliens, but he knew the value of keeping a reserve.  It was unlikely that
all
of the alien craft would be destroyed by the bombardment.  “Launch the unpowered missiles.”

He gritted his teeth.  It went against the grain to launch unpowered missiles – they had many of the risks of using mass drivers, without some of the advantages – but there was no choice.  Unlike the alien fleet, the starships they had covering the planet seemed to alter course randomly, as if they knew they were being observed.  The missiles, when they went active, would be able to alter their courses to bring them to bear on the alien ships.  None of the mass driver projectiles could be so flexible. 

But they're also expensive
, he thought, thinking wistfully of the battleship designs he’d seen during the extensive debriefings following their first encounter with the alien forces. 
Given a few years, we will have entire starships crammed with mass drivers ... and lose some of the flexibility in having missiles
.

The stream of projectiles came to an end.  “We’ve reached thirty percent of our stockpiles,” Farley reported.  “Holding fire.”

“Good,” Ted muttered.  He raised his voice, fighting the urge to whisper.  “Take us out on the pre-planned course.”

The downside of ballistic projectiles was that they didn't change course.  Given a few moments, the aliens could easily project their course backwards and locate
Ark Royal
.  But, once they'd moved, the aliens would be wasting their effort ... or so he hoped. 

He shook his head.  Now, all they had to do was wait ... and see how the aliens reacted.  He tried to form a mental picture of their entire fleet smashed, like bugs, but he knew it wasn't likely to happen.  They’d be lucky if they crippled or destroyed more than a carrier or two.  “And the Russians?”

“They’re on their way,” Farley confirmed.

Poor brave stupid idiots
, Ted thought.  The odds against the Russians making it to the surface were staggering – and that assumed that the diversionary plan worked perfectly.  If it didn't ... somehow, Ted doubted the aliens would just ignore a mystery heat trail burning through the planet’s atmosphere.  A single plasma blast would vaporise the Russian commandos, along with their fancy suits and re-entry gear. 

He shook his head.  All they could do now was wait.

***

“So the attack is underway,” Yang said.  “The aliens have no idea we’re here?”

“So it would seem,” James agreed.  Yang, at least, understood some of the implications.  And he was smart enough not to demand immediate results.  Space was big and – he glanced at the timer – there would still be several hours before they knew what, if anything, they’d hit.  “They certainly haven’t ambushed us, even when we moved away from the tramline.”