Fear God and Dread Naught (36 page)

“
New York
is gone,” Granger said, hoarsely.  “Captain ...”

“I know,” Susan snapped.  There hadn't been time for
New York
to launch lifepods.  It was possible, vaguely possible, that there were survivors, but if Admiral Harper had survived he was completely out of contact.  “Inform the datanet that I have assumed command, then order
Indianapolis
to continue firing on the alien battleship.”

She watched, grimly, as the alien ship tried desperately to evade their fire, but her main drives were gone.  A human ship would be trying to surrender, she thought; the aliens, it seemed, were determined to keep firing even as their ship was torn apart.  The remainder of their ships moved closer, one attempting to ram
Vanguard
only to be vaporised by a salvo from her main guns.  And then the alien ship lost power completely and went dead.

“Cease fire,” Susan ordered, sharply.  “I say again ...”

The alien ship exploded.  Susan wondered, for a long moment, if one of the last shots had hit something vital, then decided that it was more likely that the aliens had triggered the self-destruct, rather than risk something important falling into human hands.  Human ships were designed to purge and destroy their databanks before surrendering - if only to render the ship useless - but the battleship had taken immensely heavy damage.  The aliens might have believed, not unreasonably, that they couldn't guarantee that their ship’s secrets would be safely destroyed. 

And even a look at their ship would tell us a great deal about them
, she thought, as the debris field expanded rapidly. 
But they didn't even launch lifepods
!

“The enemy carrier is reversing course,” Granger reported.  “She's recovering her starfighters.”

“Pursuit course,” Susan snapped.  She was damned if she was letting the carrier slip away, after losing
New York
and Admiral Harper.  The task force had taken one hell of a battering, but it had won the day.  “And signal the planet.  Inform them that the skies are clear.”

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

He paused.  “Captain Yegorovich is requesting permission to launch his own starfighters in pursuit.”

Susan hesitated.  There was no reason to think that
Vanguard
and
Indianapolis
couldn't smash the enemy carrier between them.  She might need Yegorovich’s starfighters for the next engagement, if the enemy reinforcements arrived before hers.  Yegorovich wanted glory, yet he and his pilots had done more than their fair share during the campaign.

“Denied,” she said, finally.  “The starfighters are to return to their carriers and prepare for antishipping strikes.”

She glanced at Unity on the display, then returned her attention to the enemy carrier.  If all had gone according to plan, the marines - and the other groundpounders - would be attacking the enemy garrison now, forcing it to keep its head down.  Once the enemy carrier was gone, the task force would return to Unity and reclaim the high orbitals.  If the enemy refused to surrender afterwards - even when they had been clearly beaten - she’d pound them into scrap from orbit.  The marines had made it clear that the aliens didn't seem to have landed anything that could target her ships.

“Captain Yegorovich doesn't sound pleased,” Parkinson said.  “But he has accepted your orders.”

Susan nodded, curtly.  Yegorovich hadn't liked her when they’d first met - and he probably still didn't like her - but at least he was professional enough to follow orders.  She gave him credit for that, at least, as she watched the enemy carrier come slowly into range.  It launched its starfighters again, as the battleships closed in, but it was already too late.  There was no way they could hope to escape.

“Broadcast a demand for surrender,” Susan ordered.  The marine report had noted that the aliens had definitely learned
some
English.  “Inform them that we will treat them well, if they surrender.”

There was no response, save for the alien starfighters screaming closer, firing missiles as they closed in on their targets.  Susan cursed, wondering just why the aliens were so reluctant to admit defeat.  Didn't they
know
they were doomed?  A carrier, no matter how armoured, couldn't stand up to a single battleship at knife-range, let alone two.  There were just too many fragile places in her hull.

“Open fire,” she ordered, quietly.

The alien carrier opened fire itself, spitting defiance towards her tormentors as she writhed under their fire.  Susan watched, grimly, as pieces of hull plating were blown off, plasma fire smashing through her recovery decks and obliterating her innards.  A chain of explosions ran through her hull, eventually destroying the entire ship in a final savage explosion.  The starfighters desperately tried to ram the human ships, but it was pointless.  Susan allowed herself a moment of relief as the last of the starfighters vanished, then glanced at the main display.  The battle was over.

“Dispatch additional damage control teams to critical areas,” she ordered.  “And then prepare to alter course ...”

“Captain,” Charlotte said.  “Long-range sensors are picking up two
more
alien battleships on an intercept course!”

Susan swore.  No wonder the carrier had tried to fight rather than surrender.  She'd known that reinforcements were on the way.  The battle wasn't over after all.  And that meant ...

“Alert the task force,” she ordered, grimly.  Two battleships against two battleships ... it would have been a fair fight, if her battleships weren't already badly damaged.  But getting out of the system before the aliens intercepted them might well be impossible.  “Prepare to engage.” 

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

Mason shot her a worried look.  “Captain, we’re in no state for a fight.”

“I know,” Susan said.  The damage reports were still rolling in, yet it was already clear that her ship was going to need at least two months in a shipyard before she was ready for anything.  “But can we get away from them?”

She smiled, suddenly.  “And besides,” she added, “I’ve just had an idea.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

George had always liked the dark.

It wasn't something she could explain to anyone else, although she’d tried more than once when her mother had caught her out of bed in the middle of the night.  There was just
something
about how the world looked different in the dark, something about how the most familiar things could become strange and eerie in the darkness.  Sneaking through the estate in the dark had been an adventure, creeping around the school after Lights Out - and trying to slip into the male dorms - had merely added extra spice.  But now, grimly aware that the aliens would be rushing to relieve their garrison, she thought she understood why so many others were scared of the dark. 
Anything
could be out there, lurking in the shadows.

She crouched low by the roadside, peering southwards.  The aliens had taken over the spaceport for their garrison, landing enough troops and supplies to set up a near-impregnable command base.  She rather doubted they were satisfied, given the
amount
of supplies they’d had to land in a very short space of time, but it would suffice - for the moment.  And yet, the groundpounders - including her friends - were sneaking up to engage the enemy, unless something had gone badly wrong.

And once the garrison comes under attack, the enemy outposts will send everything they have to break the siege
, she thought, grimly. 
And we have to stop them
.

She glanced at her watch, feeling the butterflies in her stomach growing stronger.  This wasn't an insurgent hit-and-run raid, this was a deliberate attempt to hold the line and force the aliens to
bleed
.  She looked up at the stars, wondering just how many of them were alien starships and automated weapons platforms.  If the aliens genuinely thought they were losing, they were likely to call hell down on the planet.  Blowing up the entire settlement and calling it a draw might just suit their mindset.

Depends which one of them is in charge
, she reminded herself.  Cows committed suicide when captured, it seemed; Foxes went submissive. 
A Fox might concede defeat and surrender
.

“Ten minutes,” a voice said, quietly.  The man beside her looked nervous, although the darkness made it hard to be sure.  “They’ll be ready, won’t they?”

“They’re the best of the best,” George assured him.  “If they can get into position to attack the garrison, they can do it.”

She took another look along the darkened road, trying to pick out the emplaced heavy weapons and MANPAD teams.  But she saw nothing.  She hoped the aliens wouldn't see anything either, at least until it was far too late.  And yet, she knew all too well that the aliens might just blast their way through the resistance barricade in their mad rush to reach the spaceport.  They weren't likely to engage a tiny force when their garrison was under threat.

“I hope you’re right,” the fighter said.  “We’re gambling everything on this operation.”

George nodded.  The resistance had plenty of pistols and rifles, but they were
very
short on heavy weapons.  No one had seen any need to supply the planet with anything heavier than a handful of automatic weapons.  She suspected, cynically, that the policy was more intended to deter the colonists from rebelling than anything else, but it hardly mattered now.  All that mattered was that they were gambling the handful of heavy weapons they
did
have on a single operation.  If it failed, the resistance would be reduced to nothing more than a nuisance, at least until more supplies could be shipped to the planet.

And they won’t be
, George thought. 
There will always be somewhere more important than Unity
.

She looked north, just in time to see the illumination round explode over the spaceport, casting an eerie pearly white light over the scene.  Byron had argued for attacking in darkness, but he’d been overruled by the American General, who’d pointed out that darkness actually favoured the Foxes more than the humans.  Moments later, she heard gunfire echoing from the north, followed by flashes and flares as mortars strove to drop rounds into the heart of the enemy position.  A bright light rose off the ground - a helicopter, she assumed - only to be swatted down by a MANPAD.  Another made it higher before it too was blown out of the air.

“It looks different from back here,” the fighter muttered.

George shook her head.  It was easy to pretend that it was just another Bonfire Night, but she knew that her friends were fighting and dying to keep the enemy pinned down.  She couldn't see it as anything other than a bloody battle.  God alone knew how many groundpounders had survived - no one had told her - but almost all of them had been assigned to the attack.

“Hey,” someone called.  “We have incoming!”

George turned, just in time to see the shape of five alien vehicles racing along the road.  They were completely unlit, but there was just enough light for her to see them as they drew closer and closer.  She had to admit they’d done well to get out of the patrol base and race for the garrison, even though it was likely to cause her problems.  But then, she might be looking at an alien quick reaction force.  The remainder of the outpost’s defenders might be readying themselves for departure even as the QRA was nearing its destination.

She lifted her rifle and took aim, then ducked as the first IED exploded under the lead vehicle, flipping it up and tossing it into the jungle.  The second vehicle ground to a halt, aliens spilling out in combat formation; she opened fire with the remainder of the fighters, hosing down the aliens with grim determination.  She kept firing, even as the remaining vehicles moved to cover the infantry, their machine guns blasting streams of fire into the jungle.  She’d wondered if the aliens were having supply difficulties - and Byron had agreed with her that it was possible - but if they were there was no sign of it as they fired endless streams of bullets through the nearest trees.

There was a flash of light, then a stream of fire as the first antitank missile was fired, straight into the side of the nearest alien vehicle.  It exploded a split-second later, sending the aliens scurrying for new cover as the resistance exploited the opening.  The other alien vehicles pulled back, only to come under fire themselves.  George watched, feeling an odd burst of pride mixed with fear, as the remaining vehicles were destroyed.  The resistance had slowed the aliens down, if only for a few minutes.  They’d be in no shape to help the garrison.

The aliens must have known they were in trouble, but they didn't seem inclined to fall back and escape into the darkness.  Instead, they found more cover and continued to fire, sniping at the resistance with brief bursts of fire.  They
could
see in the dark, George noticed, as the illumination round began to burn out.  Their shooting was distressingly accurate for creatures that shouldn't have been able to pick out the resistance fighters from the surrounding jungle.

Someone tapped her shoulder as the alien fire intensified.  “Pull back,” a fighter snapped, when she turned to look at him.  “Now!”

George nodded and glanced at the man who’d chatted to her earlier.  He was dead, his body lying beside her.  A bullet had struck the side of his head - his brains were leaking out onto the muddy ground - and she hadn't even noticed!  She gagged, despite herself, then crawled backwards, not daring to rise.  The alien shooting was actually intensifying, even though they
must
be running short of ammunition.  They were certainly spending it freely.

She moved deeper into the jungle, feeling safer as the darkness enveloped her.  The sound of shooting was growing louder, along with a hail of explosions that suggested that the aliens were trying to counterattack.  Her ears ached - no matter how she tried, she couldn't determine just what was going on as she rose and ran to the next rally point.  The sound of engines in the distance grew stronger as she reached her destination, warning her that more alien vehicles were on the way.  They’d link up with the stranded infantry, she assumed, and then launch a thrust down the road.

Or they’ll try to sneak through the jungle
, she thought, grimly. 
They’d take us in the rear if they had a chance
.

“Take a grenade,” someone ordered.  The resistance fighters had already started to set up a barricade, half of them digging a trench while the other half felled trees so they fell across the road.  “And get ready to join the fight.”

The noise grew louder as the first alien vehicle appeared, surrounded by a handful of alien soldiers.  They were advancing forward at a remarkable speed, but clearly watching for traps instead of impaling themselves on the resistance’s guns.  George braced herself, hastily checking her ammunition.  She cursed under her breath a moment later.  She'd gone through nearly two-thirds of her supply without even noticing!

An explosion enveloped the first vehicle, sending its infantry escort scattering in all directions.  George cursed as two more vehicles appeared, their machine guns opening fire and practically disintegrating the barricade.  She clung to the earth as the ground shook around her, suddenly very aware that the trench was very fragile and provided very little protection.  There were so many bullets flying overhead that she didn't dare lift her head and look out of the trench.  Fear practically held her frozen as she cowered at the bottom - she could practically
smell
the aliens as they advanced on the trench.  And then a helicopter, flying overhead, was blown out of the sky by a direct hit.  Shocked out of her paralysis, George pulled herself up and peered over the side of the trench ...

... And beheld a disaster.

The aliens had smashed the resistance position, leaving only a handful of fighters alive as more and more aliens marched onto the scene.  She hadn't expected much from the barricade - it wasn't as if they’d had hours to get it in place - but it had been blasted aside with casual ease.  And the aliens were marching forward, weapons at the ready.  They’d find her ...

George scrambled out of the trench, crawling as fast as she could towards the edge of the jungle.  She felt stark naked, utterly exposed.  There was no way she could count on the darkness to hide her, not when the aliens could see in the dark.  It felt as if a pair of crosshairs had been drawn on her back, as if she could feel, deep inside, that someone was pointing a gun at her.  She heard footsteps behind her, a pitter-patter that wasn't remotely human; she tried to turn and bring up her rifle, but it was casually snatched out of her hands before she could fire a shot and tossed into the distance.  And then the alien slammed her face-down into the muddy ground, pushing her nose and mouth into the dirt.  She struggled, but it was useless.  The alien was far stronger than her.

She choked as she tried to breathe, then went limp.  Woof had submitted when the marines had beaten him, hadn't he?  Perhaps, if she submitted too, the aliens would spare her life ... there was a long moment when she thought she’d failed, that she was about to die, then the alien hauled her upright and held her effortlessly in the air.  Claws flickered out of his palm and sliced her clothes away, leaving her naked and helpless.  She stared numbly at the creature, wondering just what was about to happen.  All those Z-Grade movies about aliens coming to Earth to steal women couldn't be true, could they?

The alien dropped her to the ground and spun her around, resting one hand on her naked shoulder.  She stayed very still, remembering the razor-sharp claws that could slice through her neck as easily as a hot knife through butter.  The alien gave her a gentle push, marching her towards the remains of the ambush site.  A handful of other human prisoners were kneeling on the ground, as naked as herself, their hands on their heads.  Four aliens were guarding them, weapons at the ready.  George couldn't help wondering if she was being marched to her execution.  The aliens couldn't be
pleased
with everything that had happened since the attack had begun.

“Sit,” the alien said.

It pushed her down at the same moment.  George knelt, placing her hands on her head.  The aliens marched around, exchanging comments in their barking tongue; she wished, suddenly, that she was better at reading their moods.  She'd killed a couple of foxes on her father’s estate - Anne had hated the whole idea, claiming it was cruelty to dumb animals - but she’d never bothered to learn how to read them.  And even if she had, the aliens weren't actually
related
to Foxes.  They merely looked similar.