Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7) (33 page)

“I’ll make sure you are called when it’s held,” she said.  She glanced at her wristcom and swore under her breath.  There probably wouldn't be time for a nap, but Mason had insisted that she try to snatch
some
rest before they encountered the enemy for the third time.  “And ...”

She took a breath.  Apologising wasn't something she enjoyed, particularly when her teachers had often ordered her to apologise to children with better-connected parents, parents who could have caused real trouble for the school.  Prince Henry’s existence pushed far too many of her buttons, even though he’d done his best to escape his birth.  And yet, at least in this case, she’d gone too far.

“I apologise for my harsh words,” she said. 

“I’ve had worse,” Prince Henry assured her.  He gave her a charming smile.  “I once got a thirty-page document from a Russian diplomat that boiled down to a handful of insults.”

“Oh,” Susan said.  “And what did you send in reply?”

“A fifty-page document arguing over where to eat dinner,” Prince Henry said.  “It counts as aggressive negotiations.”

***

“So we risked exposure,” Captain Haddock said.  “We risked exposure for
nothing
!”

“I wouldn't say that,” Captain Fletcher said.  “We now know
something
about our foe!”

“Two races sharing the same star system is a little unlikely,” Captain Drummond commented, carefully.  “We may be facing a civilisation with a far larger region of settled space than ourselves.”

“Which would give them more flexibility in meeting us, rather than committing themselves to drive the fleet away from their homeworld,” Haddock pointed out.  “We told them where we were, for what?  A handful of pieces of flesh and nothing else!”

Susan closed her eyes in dismay.  Captain Harper might be the senior officer, and as such the commanding officer, but he didn't have the rank to keep the other commanding officers in line.  The fleet might have scored a minor victory, yet everyone
knew
they were no closer to home - and the aliens might well have a lock on their position.  Morale was fading, despite the destruction of five alien ships, because of the unknown.  If the aliens could signal at FTL speeds, what else could they do?

“
Enough
,” Captain Harper snapped.  “We took a calculated risk and it proved worthwhile, I think.  The data we have gained may be of limited value at the moment, but it may be immensely important later.  More to the point, we also have harder data on enemy sensor systems, starship armour and other details that will be very useful in planning our future operations.”

“And we can't bicker in here,” Captain Francis said.  “This is the war room.”

“It’s actually a holographic conference chamber,” Captain Fletcher said.  “I ...”

Captain Harper cleared his throat.  “The presence of alien ships, emerging from Tramline Two, suggests that the aliens are assembling a blocking force to face us,” he said.  “We can try to head back through Tramline One, but that opens the prospect of being caught between two fires.  Alternatively, we can jump through Tramline Three, yet that would push us further into unexplored space.  At best, we’d be adding weeks to our journey.”

“And at worst,” Captain Haddock added, “we wouldn’t make it home at all.”

“Correct,” Captain Harper said.

He brought up the holographic starchart and twisted it so they could see the fleet’s position, relative to the tramlines and the alien debris.  “We have no way to know if the alien ships we killed got a warning off or not before they were killed,” he said.  “As one ship
was
chased and killed by
Vanguard’s
escorts, we have to assume the worst.  Even a standard radio message would have plenty of time to reach a cloaked ship before we reached the tramline.”

Susan could find no flaw with his analysis.  If the FTL com, however it worked, was limited to one system, they
might
manage to get inside the enemy’s OODA loop, but if it crossed light-years there was no way to avoid the enemy having advance warning of the fleet’s intentions.  And if
she
was in charge of the enemy fleet, she would have made damn sure there was a cloaked ship lurking near the tramline, just to watch for any unpleasant surprises and pass the word up the chain.

“Therefore, we will do two things,” Captain Harper stated.  “First, we will dogleg around the system”-  the display updated, showing his planned course - “and enter the tramline here, rather than taking the least-time course.  It’s where they’ll expect us to appear.  Yes, it will add five days to our transit time, at best, but it gives us the greatest chance to escape detection.

“Second, we will deploy ECM probes on an automated trajectory.  Ideally, the probes should pass for the fleet, limping towards the tramline on a least-time course.  They may assume we took damage in the brief skirmish or that
Vanguard
was several days ahead of the remainder of the fleet.  If they take the bait, they’ll be drawn out of position and give us a chance to sneak past them before they realise they’ve been tricked and double back.”

And even if they stay where we think they are
, Susan added mentally,
they’ll still find it hard to keep track of us.

“The probes will be rigged with laser-head warheads,” Captain Harper said.  “Automated systems are far from perfect”- there were some chuckles; automated combat systems had far too many limitations - “but it should give them a nasty surprise, when they swoop down on the drones.  It should also destroy the remainder of the drones, just to make sure that no further examples of our technology fall into enemy hands.”

Captain Haddock scowled.  “Can you guarantee that none of the ECM drones will survive?”

“There are no guarantees in war,” Captain Harper pointed out, tartly.  “The drones exist to be used, gentlemen.  I know there is a risk of losing a drone to the enemy, but it has to be faced.”

He paused.  “We took a beating, true,” he added.  “But we just proved the enemy are not gods.  They can be beaten.  And we will beat them again.”

Susan nodded in agreement.  The plan was simple enough, yet it would give them the best chance of sneaking through enemy territory and returning to friendly space.  Better to lose a few dozen drones than the entire fleet.  And, even if a drone were to be captured, standard procedures should keep the enemy from learning anything useful.

And even if the precautions fail
, she thought darkly,
they will have had ample time to draw intelligence from the remains of the fleet.  They already know more about us than we do about them
.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Signal from the flag, Captain,” Parkinson said.  “The last of the drones is in place.”

“Good,” Susan said.  “Any contacts?”

“Negative,” Charlotte reported.  “The system appears to be empty.”

Susan frowned as she studied the display.  If the aliens had managed to get a lock on their position, they’d need to act as quickly as possible before the fleet moved.  And yet, no further attacks had materialised.  Had the handful of ships
Vanguard
destroyed been nothing more than a probe?  Or had the aliens been unable to get a larger force into the system before it was too late?

The FTL communications system must have a downside
, she thought, mischievously. 
Their high command is forced to watch, helplessly, as we slip away.

She smiled at the thought, then sobered.  Having an FTL communications network, even one that operated on an interplanetary scale only, would allow the enemy to coordinate their operations without having to worry about the pesky time delay.  It might strip their squadron commanders of some of their independence -
Susan
wasn't sure
she’d
want a superior officer looking over her shoulders at all times - but the advantages would outweigh the disadvantages.  And if the system operated on an interstellar scale, the enemy high command would be able to halve the time it took to react to any new threat.

They were ready for us
, she reminded herself. 
Did they have someone watching when we linked up with the Tadpoles
?

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said, again.  “The fleet is to proceed along the pre-planned dogleg to the tramline.”

“Acknowledge the signal,” Susan ordered.  Captain Harper would probably
love
an FTL communicator right now, even though the three squadrons were slowly drawing closer together for mutual support.  “Helm, take us out along the pre-planned course.”

“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.  “Main drives engaging ... now.”

Susan felt the background hum of the drives increase in power as
Vanguard
moved, slowly, out of position.  Any enemy ships expecting the refugee fleet to take a least-time course to the tramline would be circumvented, hopefully without ever
knowing
they’d been circumvented.  But the FTL communications mucked even
that
up ... the fleet might run into another enemy force that could summon reinforcements to attack the fleet from the rear. 

And all we can do is watch for enemy ships
, she reminded herself. 
And hope we can get back home before it’s too late
.

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said, forty minutes later.  “They are ready to activate the drones.”

Susan nodded, slowly.  The plan was sound, at least in theory, but it was based on a great deal of guesswork.  If any of the guesses were wrong, the best they could hope for was that a number of drones had been wasted for nothing; at worst, the enemy would not alter course as planned and the fleet would have to force a crossing of the tramline.  The beancounters would throw a fit, she was sure, when they realised just how many drones had been expended, but that was Captain Harper’s problem.  They were his drones.

You’d think they’d be happier about losing a million-dollar drone than a billion-dollar starship
, she thought. 
But bureaucratic stupidity is a law of nature
.

“The drones have gone active,” Charlotte said.  She sounded impressed.  “I
know
they’re fakes, Captain, and I’d be fooled at this distance.  The sensor images are very accurate.”

“Clever,” Susan agreed.  Hopefully, the enemy wouldn’t be able to tell that the drones were fake until they closed in on the presumed fleet.  “Better than ours?”

“I think so,” Charlotte said.  “They’re certainly more powerful.”

“We’ll have to trade for the technology,” Mason said.  “If it isn’t shared, as part of the joint defence against the new threat.”

Susan nodded, grimly, as the hours passed and
Vanguard
and her squadron slid towards the tramline.  Getting the fleet back home, or at least to friendly space, would be one thing, but it wouldn't be the end of the war.  She rather doubted the diplomats could patch things up, not after so many people had been killed.  Humanity was likely to plunge back into war regardless of its wishes, fighting to protect itself from a coalition of at least two species.  Humanity and the Tadpoles, versus ... she wondered absently what the aliens called themselves, then shook her head.  No matter what the researchers did with the alien biological matter, they still didn't know what the aliens
looked
like.

“Captain,” Reed said.  “We are approaching the tramline.”

“Inform the flag,” Susan ordered.  In theory, they should be undetectable, but if ... she pushed the thought aside, angrily.  They had no time for second-guessing themselves.  “Tell Captain Harper that we will proceed as planned.”

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

“Sound full tactical alert,” Susan added.  “Bring the ship to battlestations.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.  Alarms howled through the ship as her crew rushed to their duty stations, readying themselves for anything.  The status board updated rapidly as the various departments switched to combat protocols.  “All stations report combat readiness, Captain.”

“Good,” Susan said.  “Inform the screen that
Vanguard
will make the first transit.”

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

“Twenty seconds to the tramline,” Reed informed her.  “Puller Drive online.”

“Take us through,” Susan ordered.

She braced herself, unsure what to expect, as the battleship crossed the tramline.  The display faded - she felt a moment of panic, convinced that the enemy were at point-blank range - and then rebooted, displaying a G2 star and a handful of planets.  There were no icons, enemy or otherwise, at close range, but as the display continued to update a number of other icons flickered into existence.

“They appear to be commercial ships, Captain,” Charlotte said.  “It’s impossible to be entirely certain at this range, but I’d say they were asteroid miners or light freighters.”

Assuming that the enemy development patterns match ours
, Susan thought.  The Admiralty hadn’t been keen on building light freighters, pointing out that the operating costs for
bulk
freighters weren't much higher and they could carry more goods.  But bulk freighters also made much larger targets. 
Those ships might be something we’ve never encountered before
.

“This could be a Tadpole system,” Mason offered.  “And we just came in through the back door.”

“Not unless they left it off the charts they gave us,” Reed said.  “This system was marked down for later exploration, assuming that the tramline projections were accurate.  Given that it’s a G2 star, they may have wanted to steer survey ships away from it.”

Because they’d have first claim on any life-bearing world
, Susan thought.  Prince Henry had argued otherwise, but she didn't see why the Tadpoles wouldn't press their own advantage, if they thought they had an opportunity. 
And besides, this system is somewhat off the beaten path, even for them
.

“Drive signatures are rather obscured at this range,” Charlotte said.  “But I don’t believe they’re either Tadpole or human.  A number of other radio sources are grouped around a planet within the life-bearing zone.”

“But no enemy forces within range,” Mason muttered.  “It’s a trap.”

Susan glanced at the display. 
Vanguard’s
screen had passed through the tramline and was fanning out, their passive sensors watching for signs of alien starships lurking along the tramline.  The aliens would have to get immensely lucky to have an attack force within range, unless they
had
maintained a hard lock on the fleet.  But the opportunity to land a decisive blow from hiding, just as
Vanguard
had taken out the enemy scouts, was fading fast.  The battleship might have jumped in blind, but that was no longer the case.

“I don't think so,” she said.  She studied the system’s activity for a long moment.  It reminded her of a stage-two colony, one where the planet had been tamed and the settlers were investing heavily in orbital infrastructure.  Judging by the source of radio signals orbiting the gas giant, the settlers either had a cloudscoop or were trying to establish one.  “I don't think they’re lurking in ambush.”

She took a breath.  “Signal the screen,” she ordered.  “One ship is to jump back through the tramline and inform Captain Harper, then tell him to bring the remainder of the fleet through as quickly as possible.”

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

Susan looked at Reed.  “Plot us a course that keeps at least a light-minute between us and any known enemy position,” she added.  “Do you have a solid fix on the tramlines?”

“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.  “There’re three in the system, one alien-grade.”

“We could take it,” Mason suggested.  “Captain, if they can't follow us through the alien-grade tramlines.”

We really do need another name for them
, Susan thought. 
It isn't as if there's only one alien race now
.

She leaned forward.  “Where does it go?”

“Deeper into unexplored space,” Reed said.  “It’s possible there might be another way back to Tadpole space, but we’d add at least a month to our journey.”

Susan scowled.  The absolute worst case scenario was that the unknowns had departed the scene of the ambush and attacked the nearest friendly settlements.  Indeed, given that they’d picked a fight with two races, they would have good reason to seize as much space as possible before the inevitable counterattack.  And if that was the case, the Tadpoles already knew something was badly wrong.  But the fleet’s firepower would be required to preserve as much of their territory as possible. 

And going along a predictable course will only make it easier for them to ambush us
, she thought. 
That too is Captain Harper’s decision.

“The fleet has completed its transit,” Mason reported.

“No sign of enemy activity,” Charlotte added. 

Susan studied the display, trying not to show any tension on her face.  The enemy hadn't taken the bait - or had they?  There was no way to be entirely certain of
anything
.  But they seemed to have entered the system without being detected ...

“Signal from the fleet,” Parkinson said.  “We are to proceed along an evasive course until we reach Tramline Two, at full tactical alert.  Captain Harper is calling a command conference.”

“Understood,” Susan said.  She wasn't pleased.  Even stepping into the Ready Room, during a tactical alert, felt like dereliction of duty.  “Helm, take us out as planned.  Communications, inform the screen that I want them sweeping the fleet’s path.  If there’s a single hint of an enemy fleet lying in wait, I want to know about it.”

“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.  “ETA Tramline Two, forty-seven hours.”

We could do it quicker if we went on a least-time course
, Susan thought. 
But the risk is too great to be borne
.

“And ask Prince Henry to meet me in the Ready Room,” she added, keeping her thoughts to herself.  “I believe he should attend the conference too.”

***

“The question of the hour is simple,” Captain Harper said.  “Do we take advantage of the opportunity to attack this system or not?”