Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7) (25 page)

“Understood,” George said.  “Is the venting system online?”

“Just in case,” Barton confirmed.  “I don’t think the gunner will thank us if we accidentally vent a containment chamber.”

George nodded - if nothing else, the chamber would have to be carefully inspected, then refilled - and started to check the field components, one by one.  Barton did the same on the other side of the section, making notes as he worked.  A couple of components were reaching the end of their service, even though they didn't need to be replaced immediately.  George had a feeling Simpson would make sure they were replaced a week before regulations
insisted
they had to be replaced.  Simpson hadn't risen to his current post by taking chances.

“Some of these parts can be broken down and refurbished, then sold to civilians,” Barton commented.  “Or turned into mines.”

“Pretty dangerous work,” George said.  “Who’d want them?”

“Less dangerous than you might think,” Barton said.  He glanced up at her, his face shining with sweat.  “There’s a shitload of redundancy built into each of these little beauties.  We replace them because our demands change randomly, but a civilian power system wouldn't have so many shifts in demand.  Or we can just use them to construct mines.”

George made a face.  Minefields were normally wasted in space, although mining the skies over a couple of worlds had delayed the Tadpoles by a few hours.  On the other hand, if an enemy force could be lured into the minefield ... she saw the idea, but she wouldn't have wanted to try it.  A single mistake could turn the minefield into a deadly trap for both sides.

And civilians talk about mining the tramlines
, she thought. 
It just isn't possible
.

She finished her section, then moved over to recheck Barton’s work.  She’d found it annoying, back when she’d started at the academy, but there had been enough early problems for her to understand the value.  He’d check her work, just in case she’d missed something; she worked her way through her section and decided he’d done everything right.  But then, with Simpson riding herd on him, she doubted he’d dare to make a mistake.  The gunner’s disappointment would be worse than a screaming fit.

“So,” Barton said, as he finished.  His voice was casual, too casual.  “When do you expect your next shore leave?”

George laughed, despite herself.  “I have no idea,” she said.  She was an officer, to all intents and purposes and he was a crewman; he certainly shouldn't be trying to pick her up.  And yet, she had to admire his nerve.  “It depends on where the ship goes, doesn't it?”

***

“Welcome to the bridge, Your Highness,” Captain Blake said.

Henry groaned, resisting the urge to shoot a murderous look at the captain’s back as he relieved his XO.  He’d told Captain Blake seven times - at least - that he was no longer in the line of succession, yet the man kept insisting on addressing him as
Your Highness
.  He wouldn’t have minded
Sir
, or
Flying Officer -
it had been his rank when he'd left the navy - or
Mr. Ambassador
but
Your Highness
was nothing more than a reminder of the past, a past he’d put firmly behind him.

And Victoria is going to grow up without being in line to the throne
, he told himself, as he stood at the back of the bridge. 
And any reporter who even looks at her funny is going to be hit with a harassment suit
.

He smiled at the thought - putting a reporter through legal hell would have given him no end of pleasure - as he studied the display.  UXS-469 looked deserted, save for the joint fleet; a handful of scouts were already racing towards the alien tramline.  There was no sign of any unknown starships, yet he understood why so many officers were concerned.  Logically, the newcomers should have access to the tramlines.  Why hadn't they picketed UXS-469, if nothing else?  It was what both humanity and the Tadpoles would have done?

Perhaps this is the very edge of their space
, he thought. 
And the world we’re approaching is their version of Cromwell or Pegasus
.

“As you can see, Your Highness, all is in order,” Captain Blake said.  “There’s no sign of alien contact.”

“That is always good to hear,” Henry said, keeping his expression blank.  He’d learned to hide his true feelings early in life, although living on Tadpole Prime had weakened his control.  There was no point in maintaining a poker face when the Tadpoles wouldn't have noticed - or cared - if he’d thrown a tantrum.  “Let us hope things stay that way.”

“Ah, yes,” Captain Blake said.  He nodded towards an unoccupied console.  “If you’d care to take that ...”

Henry nodded and strode over to the chair.  He had no idea how his father endured so many ceremonies without either strong drink or mental conditioning - or why his sister actually
wanted
to be Queen.  Didn’t she have enough problems as a princess?  If she put on even a little weight, she was fat; if she slimmed down, she was terrifyingly thin ...

“Captain,” the sensor officer said.  “I’m picking up something odd, behind us.”

The XO sat upright.  “What?”

“I’m not sure,” the sensor officer admitted.  Her already pale face seemed to pale further.  “It could be a sensor distortion field.  I can’t see it directly, but there are hints from the other ships ...”

“Alert Admiral Boskone,” the XO ordered.  She shot a sharp glance at Henry.  “Captain, I recommend we move to red alert.”

“We don’t know what the contact is,” the captain objected.

Henry groaned inwardly.  He’d flown starfighters, not starships, but even
he
knew that the mystery contact was too close.  And it was blocking their line of retreat.  If that was a coincidence, it was a very dangerous one.  The fleet needed to know what was creeping up behind it, now ...

The display flared with red light.  “I’m picking up active sensors, multiple sources,” the sensor officer snapped.  “Sensor analysis calls them targeting sensors.”

“Red alert,” the XO snapped, hitting a control on her console.  Alarms started to howl.  “All hands to battlestations.  I say again ...”

“Incoming missiles,” the sensor officer said.  “They’ve opened fire!”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“They’ve opened fire?”

Susan barely had time for the captain’s stunned question.  The unknowns - and she doubted they’d run into a
second
unknown race - had carried out a near-perfect ambush.  They had to have detected the survey ships, part of her mind noted, and lurked in UXS-469 until more starships arrived.  And then they’d attacked.  Unprovoked, they’d attacked.

“Stand by point defence,” she snapped.  Launching missiles from long range was an exercise in futility, which suggested the aliens had something nasty up their sleeves.  “Alert the screen; order them to adjust formation and prepare to repel attack!”

“They can't,” Captain Blake stammered.  He sounded as if he were on the verge of panicking again.  “They shouldn't even be here!  Run the first contact protocols - we have to
talk
to them!”

Susan gritted her teeth, pulled the stunner from her belt and stunned the captain before he could hope to react.  He collapsed on the deck, unconscious.  It was unfortunate, part of her mind noted, that he’d seen fit to invite Prince Henry to the bridge.  The bridge crew might keep quiet about a pre-planned mutiny, but the prince might be experienced enough to recognise what she’d done.  And yet, he might also understand
why
she’d done it.

“I am formally relieving the captain of command,” she stated, for the record.  “If any of you wish to object, you may insert a note into the ship’s log.”

She sat down in the command chair, resting the stunner in her lap.  None of the senior officers would object, she was sure, but the juniors might do something stupid.  And then there was the prince, a wild card.  She was tempted to order him off the bridge, yet she knew she didn’t dare take the risk of him going straight to the marines.  The last thing they needed was a shootout on the bridge.

“Admiral Boskone has ordered all starfighters launched,” Parkinson reported.  “He’s also attempting to use the first contact protocols, but the unknowns are not responding.”

“Shooting at someone is also a form of communication,” Mason noted.  “It says they don’t want us around.”

“Launch sensor probes,” Susan ordered.  It was hard, very hard, for the tactical sensors to get a lock on their foes.  Their sensor stealth system wasn't a
perfect
cloaking device, but it seemed capable of keeping active sensors from gaining a hard lock on enemy hulls.  “And ...”

“Incoming starfighters,” Charlotte snapped.  “They’re launching starfighters of their own.”

“Order the point defence to concentrate on the missiles,” Susan ordered.  The enemy missiles
had
to carry something nasty, something
far
nastier than a standard nuke.  They
had
to know the defenders would swat most of the missiles out of space before they could enter attack range.  “Can you get me a target breakdown?”

“They’re concentrating on the bigger ships,” Charlotte said.  “
Courageous, Enterprise
, the Tadpole carriers ... and us.”

Susan braced herself as the missiles roared into attack range.  The fleet’s point defence opened fire, picking off dozens of missiles before they could pose a danger ...

... And then the missiles began to detonate.  Laser heads, part of her mind noted, but far more powerful than any humanity had managed to design.  Shafts of deadly force lanced out towards their targets, slicing through their hulls and inflicting heavy damage on their interiors.  A destroyer blew apart in a flash of light - the first ship to die - followed rapidly by an American cruiser and a French frigate.

“Got a solid lock,” Charlotte snapped.  The display cleared, revealing twelve heavy starships - battleships or superdreadnaughts - and nine carriers, surrounded by over seventy smaller ships.  “They’re firing a second spread of missiles!”

And most of our heavy ships are designed to fire energy weapons
, Susan thought.  Admiral Boskone was reorganising his formation, but the enemy were already pounding the crap out of the screen. 
They have an undeniable edge at long-range
.

“Launch our own missiles,” she ordered.  She doubted they’d score
any
hits, unless the alien point defence was puny, but it would give them something else to worry about.  “And prepare to reverse course.”

Mason sucked in his breath.  “
Courageous
and
Enterprise
have been targeted,” he snapped, loudly.  “Their screens are moving to provide cover ...”

“Alter course,” Susan ordered.  If the aliens had been watching the fleet from a distance, they might have successfully identified the command ships.  Or they might just have been shooting at the carriers.  “Bring us about.  Prepare to close the range.”

She clenched her fists as missiles roared down on the two fleet carriers.  Hundreds died, but dozens survived long enough to detonate, blasting laser beams directly into the massive starships. 
Courageous
staggered out of formation, plasma venting from her hull; Susan found herself praying that the crew had had enough time to run for the lifepods before the massive ship exploded into a ball of expanding plasma.  Seconds later,
Enterprise
followed, the American carrier struggling valiantly until the end.

“Admiral Boskone is dead,” Mason reported.

“Enemy ships targeting the Tadpole carriers,” Charlotte added.  “Our starfighters ...”

New icons flared to life on the display.  “Commander,” Charlotte snapped, interrupting herself, “there are new enemy starships emerging from Tramline Two!”

Well
, the morbid side of Susan’s mind noted,
that settles the question of whether or not the aliens can use the tramlines
.

“Get on to the fleet command network,” she ordered.  Losing both of the fleet’s commanding officers meant ... what?  Who was in command?  “Find out who’s in command!”

“Aye, Commander,” Parkinson said.

Susan nodded, then watched grimly as the three starfighter groups collided.  The unknowns seemed to be at a slight disadvantage, although they possessed plasma weapons; the missiles she’d launched into the teeth of the enemy formation had all been picked off effortlessly.  But the loss of the fleet carriers - the unknowns had blown a Tadpole carrier apart and were now concentrating their efforts on the remaining carriers - meant that recovering the fighter pilots would be far harder ... and rearming them would be impossible.  The entire formation was coming apart.

It could be a Tadpole in command
, she thought, as the sensor display updated again.  The unknowns had
definitely
planned the ambush, blocking both the fleet’s retreat and any prospect of it charging through the tramline to fight to the death. 
Or ...

She shuddered.  Was Captain
Blake
supposed to be in command?

“
Belfast
has been destroyed,” Mason reported quietly.  “
Dallas
has taken heavy damage and her commander has ordered an evacuation ...”

Let’s hope the aliens are in the mood to take prisoners
, Susan thought. 
But even if they want to take prisoners, can they keep them alive?

“Commander,” Parkinson said, quietly.  “Captain Blake is meant to be in command.”

Susan swore.  She should have had a contingency plan for
that
, but ... but she’d never anticipated every officer above him being either killed or knocked out of contact.  Surely there was someone else who could take command?  And yet, with the fleet carriers taking a pounding,
Vanguard
was probably the only ship in the fleet that had a reasonable chance of remaining intact.  Or, at least, the only human ship.

“They’re requesting orders,” Parkinson added.  “I can inform them that Captain Blake has been ... disabled ...?”

“No,” Susan said.  She wasn't sure what to do - no regulations covered this situation - but the fleet couldn't afford an argument over who was in command, not now.  “Reroute the fleet command network through the CIC, then update me on the fleet’s status ...”

She thought, rapidly.  The fleet couldn't stay where it was or it would be smashed to rubble, piece by piece.  Charging forward into the teeth of enemy fire wasn't an option, not when there was only one battleship and four superdreadnaughts. 
Vanguard
and the superdreadnaughts might survive, but the remaining ships would be lost.  And yet, there was something odd about the alien formation, something she was missing ...

It struck her in a moment of brilliant insight.  The unknowns didn't need to worry about trapping the fleet in an inescapable trap; they’d brought more than enough firepower to complete the fleet’s destruction.  And yet, they’d left the fleet a way out ... why?  The way to Tramline Three was clear!  No matter how she looked at it, the only answer was that the unknowns hadn't figured out how to use the alien-grade tramlines!

“Signal all ships,” she ordered.  “They are to change course and head directly to Tramline Three.”

“Aye, Commander,” Parkinson said.

Susan ran her hand through her sweaty hair.  She’d either be promoted, if she got the fleet back home, or shot.  Or both.  The Admiralty would have problems deciding just which charge to put on the execution warrant.  She fought down a very childish giggle at the thought, then studied the display.  The human starfighters were doing well, very well, but the aliens had the numbers.  And it was clear that the only thing holding them back was their technology, not any lack of skill.  Given updated starfighters, Susan noted, they’d have a definite edge.

“Order the fleet carriers to take point, escorted by half of the destroyers,” she continued, as the display updated. 
Vanguard
and the superdreadnaughts would have to take the brunt of enemy fire.  Luckily, their armour should be able to resist the enemy weapons.  But if there was a
third
enemy fleet, she'd just sent her remaining fleet carriers to their doom.  She pushed the thought aside as she considered her options.  “And then order the starfighters to engage the enemy formation ...”

She swore, inwardly, as the second wave of enemy ships launched a new force of starfighters towards the human ships.  “Belay that order,” she added. 
Vanguard
could shrug off starfighters, unless they were armed with something completely new, but the fleet carriers and the smaller ships were dangerously vulnerable.  “Recall the starfighters.  They are to provide cover.”

“Aye, Commander,” Parkinson said.

“The enemy ships are targeting us,” Charlotte said.  “They’re launching another spread of missiles.”

And at closer range too
, Susan noted.  It probably wouldn't make any difference, but it showed just how forcefully the aliens were pressing the advantage. 
We may be about to give Vanguard her first real test
.

“The point defence cannons are to fire at will,” she ordered.  If only they’d been able to link the human and Tadpole ships together!  The formation was really composed of two separate formations, barely able to talk to one another!  Did the aliens realise it?  All they’d have to do was run a tactical analysis and the patterns would be unmistakable.  “And try and link our communications overlay with the Tadpole systems!”

“That may cause problems, Commander,” Parkinson said.  “I ...”

“So will a flight of missiles,” Susan snapped.  And the aliens were launching yet another salvo, targeting the remaining carriers!  “We have to stop as many of those missiles as possible!”

“Recommend a hammerhead firing pattern,” Mason said.  “It might work.”

“Do it,” Susan ordered.

The captain moaned from the deck.  Susan hesitated, unsure what to do.  There was a risk of brain damage if someone was repeatedly stunned, but if the captain recovered he could try to retake command.  If only he’d had the sense to stay in his cabin, chatting up the prince ...