Ark Royal 2: The Nelson Touch (29 page)

He watched as the alien network slowly revealed itself, then smiled.  “Order the frigates to open fire,” he said.  “I say again, they are to open fire.”

The display suddenly sparked with new icons as the frigates opened fire, volley-firing their missiles towards the planet’s defences.  Moments later, the aliens responded, directing their starfighters into position to intercept the missiles.  But the human starfighters knifed into the alien ships and a series of dogfights began as the they started to knock down the alien craft one by one.  Moments later, the first set of missiles started to detonate, blasting laser beams towards the enemy stations.  Others were knocked down before they had a chance to detonate.

“Sir,” Commander Higgs said.  The analyst sounded tired, but enthusiastic.  “The data is revealing certain patterns.  Among other things, the aliens defending the planet are not as well-trained as the aliens who fought at New Russia and other battles.”

“You think we’ve encountered a reservist unit?”  Ted asked.  He'd thought the same at the previous battle, but he wasn't inclined to assume he was correct.  “Or one unprepared for war?”

“Their training is definitely flawed,” Higgs insisted, calmly.  “They might have taken out a carrier, but they’re outmatched by our pilots.”

“Let us hope you’re right,” Ted said.

He turned and looked back at the display.  Some of the missiles were finding their targets, but others were being knocked down by the enemy defenders.  Their point defence crews were clearly very motivated, Ted thought, with a moment of bitter amusement.  But then, unless alien reactions were far faster than human reactions, they’d probably programmed their computers to handle the guns.  There was no way a human mind could keep up with the incoming missiles, designate targets and engage them before it was too late.

“Keep a sharp eye on the stations that have yet to open fire,” he ordered.  “I want to know if they show the slightest sign of hostility.”

“The first wave of missiles has been completed,” Lopez reported.  “We've damaged a couple of stations, but not enough to cripple the planetary defences.”

Ted swore, inwardly.  He’d expected more than that from the modified missiles, but he’d underestimated the planet’s defences.  They’d crammed more point defence and armour into the stations than he’d expected.  Some of them might be as heavily armoured as
Ark Royal
herself ...

“Launch the second salvo,” he ordered.  But ship-mounted missiles wouldn't be enough, he knew.  “Then detach half of our remaining bombers to target their stations.  Try to coordinate the strikes so they go in simultaneously.”

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said.

Ted gritted his teeth as the first flight of bombers started to launch from their carriers.  He’d hoped to keep the bombers in reserve, just in case the alien carriers managed to link up with reinforcements and launch an immediate counterattack.  But instead they would have to be committed to the attack on Target One.  He briefly considered adding mass drivers to the fury wracking the skies of Target One, then dismissed the thought with some irritation.  There was too great a risk of accidentally striking the planet’s surface.

If all of our attacks are so difficult
, he thought,
we might want to consider building additional attack ships.  Or just blockading the worlds and leaving the aliens to rot on the vine.

***

The alien starfighter came out of nowhere.  Henry had barely a second’s warning before bursts of hot plasma screamed past his fighter and vanished somewhere in the inky darkness of space.  Swearing out loud, even though he knew his mike was on, he yanked the starfighter out of the alien’s path and tried to draw a bead on his opponent.  If the alien hadn’t been distracted by a missile that flashed past his ship, close enough almost to be seen with the naked eye, Henry suspected his career would have come to a very sudden end.  As it was, he managed to line himself up on the alien long enough to blow him into plasma.

He pulled back and fell into formation escorting the bombers as they roared towards their target, one of the larger alien battlestations.  It seemed to be glowing with light on his display as it hurled bolt after bolt of plasma fire towards the incoming ships, a display of fury that would have overloaded any comparable human system.  He felt a moment of envy which rapidly became pity as the bombers launched their missiles towards the alien station.  A handful made it into attack range and detonated.  Moments later, the station shuddered and started to disintegrate.

“Pull back,” the Wing Commander snapped.  “You don't want to be hit by a piece of flying debris.”

Henry nodded and followed the bombers as they retreated, chased by vengeful alien fighters.  Behind them, warnings flashed up in his display as pieces of debris shot in all directions, most of them heading down into the planet's gravity well.  A quick check revealed that most of them would almost certainly burn up in the planet’s atmosphere, although a handful might make it down to the surface.  He doubted having so much debris dumped into the atmosphere would do the planet any good, but at least it wouldn't cause immediate problems.

“The bombers are to return to the carriers to rearm,” the Wing Commander ordered.  “Starfighters are to engage their counterparts.”

Henry nodded and flipped the starfighter over, following North and his comrades as they headed back towards the alien starfighters.  The aliens were fighting with a bitter desperation that almost made up for their poor training – Henry had never appreciated how hard the CAG had made them work until he saw the aliens – but it was hopeless.  One by one, the alien starfighters were burned out of space, followed by their battlestations. 

Alerts flashed up in his display.  He evaded automatically, searching for his target.  One of the alien asteroids had started to disintegrate, shattering into a tidal wave of rocky debris that seemed to fly in all directions.  He stared, then glanced at the overall update as other pilots started to fill the airwaves with chatter.  What the hell had happened to the alien asteroid?

“Unknown,” the CAG said, finally.  “No missile went near the asteroid.”

He paused.  “Continue operations.”

Henry nodded and led the charge towards the next alien station.

***

“They blew it up?”

“Radar reports suggest that the cause of the destruction was internal,” Lopez confirmed.  “As far as the analysts can tell, sir, none of our missiles or starfighters went anywhere near the station.”

Ted nodded.  Was it a warning – the other stations might be rigged to blow too – an accident or an attempt to deny the stations to humanity?  Moments later, he had his answer as the other orbital installations started, one by one, to disintegrate.  He cursed out loud as he realised that the debris would cause very real problems for his landing craft, as well as threatening the planet with nuclear winter.  Billions of tons of dust entering the planetary atmosphere would do it no good at all.

“They blew all the civilian stations,” Lopez said.  She sounded utterly shocked.  “Sir, they just blew them all!”

“Probably didn’t want us getting a look at them,” Ted said.  He wasn't too surprised, even though he had a feeling the alien leaders had just sacrificed thousands of their own people just to hide their secrets.  “They know what we did with the last ship we captured, after all.”

He took a breath.  The remaining orbital battlestations were fighting savagely, but there was no longer any doubt about the outcome.  If only they would surrender!  Ted had strict orders concerning alien POWs, orders he agreed with wholeheartedly.  They certainly wouldn't be mistreated in human custody.  But then, now they had proof that some aliens understood English, they might well be turned into a source of intelligence for the human race.

“Reassign the Marines who would have boarded the stations,” he ordered, flatly.  “There's no point in trying to take them any longer.”

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said.

“Then redirect the bombers to take out the last battlestations,” Ted added.  “Then we can put an end to this.”

***

Kurt stared down the roster as the bombers hastily returned to
Ark Royal
and the two makeshift carriers.  All four bomber squadrons had taken a beating, forcing him to reconfigure them on the fly.  Worse, two of them had lost their commanding officers, which meant he would have to promote one of the rooks to CO, transfer a more experienced officer or concentrate the four squadrons into two.  Any of the options would cause real problems as exhausted pilots took their craft out once again to engage the enemy.  But there was no choice.

At least the experienced officers would know how to handle newcomers
, he thought,
but I hate doing it when we’re in the middle of a battle
.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes.  It was hard to really
feel
the battle deep within
Ark Royal’s
armoured superstructure.  He wasn't outside in space, with only his skill and daring keeping him safe and well in the face of concentrated enemy attempts to kill him, but inside a starship that had, so far, proved invincible.  But the enemy had already managed to damage the carrier once on the mission ... they’d certainly know how to try again. 

And Rose was out there, risking her life.  So was the Prince and all the other rooks. 

Kurt cursed under his breath.  Molly had tried to nag him into getting a nice safe job flying a desk, but reservist pilots never really had much choice about their assignments.  Indeed, he knew he’d been lucky to draw assignment to
Ark Royal
, even though no one had expected the Old Lady to become the effective flagship of the navy and the linchpin of humanity’s defence.  But he would never have been happy flying a desk ... and this, no matter what gloss he tried to put on it, was flying a desk.  The only real danger was the very real prospect of being killed by the aliens.

I need to get back out there
, he thought, sourly.  Being CAG as well as a Wing Commander was stressful, but it wasn't as shameful as being a desk jockey. 
Whatever it takes, I need to get back out there
.

“All right,” he said, keying his console.  “The following pilots are assigned to Bomber Squadron Two ...”

He sighed at the explosion of protests from the remainder of Squadron Four.  It was hard to blame them.  The Royal Navy worked hard to create a sense of unity in squadrons, a sense of belonging ... a sense that would make it hard to fit pilots from one squadron into another.  No doubt a few of the rooks had assumed
they
would have their chance to take command of the squadron, at least for a few glorious hours.  It would have looked very good on their service records when the Admiralty started handing out medals ...

“Do as I fucking tell you,” he ordered, feeling his temper snap.  “I know you didn't goddamn train together, but you’ll goddamn fight together because if you don't you’ll wind up fucking dead, all right?”

There was silence.  He forced himself to calm down.  Swearing like one of Percy’s friends who’d come home once – Molly had banished him almost at once and forbade Percy from speaking to him again – wouldn't help calm nervous young men and women.

“This is too important for you to be distracted,” he said, quietly.  There was really no time for a long debate.  “Slot into the combined squadrons and do your best.  And remember, your new comrades are not the enemy.  It’s the aliens who are the enemy.”

He closed the channel, then rested his head in his hands.  The rooks had taken far too much of a beating, he knew, and they simply didn't have the experience to come to grips with it.  At least the other powers had sent veteran pilots, thankfully.  The Americans, Japanese and French had done very well.  And the Americans ... he made a mental note to make sure that accommodations were prepared for the surviving pilots from
Roosevelt
.  The other American carriers were already crammed with pilots and starfighters.

“I’ll get back out there somehow,” he muttered.  “Somehow ...”

***

The final alien battlestation exploded violently, adding yet more debris to the clouds drifting in orbit around the planet.  Ted watched, grimly, as pieces of space junk plummeted into the planet’s atmosphere, hopefully distracting the alien defenders on the ground from monitoring the human ships.  If there was one advantage to the whole sorry affair, he decided, it was that it was forcing the aliens to reveal the location of their ground-based planetary defence systems.  The plasma cannons would have done some real damage if the humans had tried to land without a clear idea of their location.

“Add them to the lists for targeting,” he ordered, calmly.  “I want them all hammered as soon as we commence the assault.”

“Yes, sir,” Lopez said.

Ted remembered the old arguments about ships versus forts and realised the aliens had written a new chapter.  The ground-based systems were far more powerful than anything they'd seen before, save perhaps for the plasma guns a handful of alien frigates mounted.  A single shot could do real damage to
Ark Royal
and probably blow a modern carrier into little pieces.  He didn't dare enter orbit until the ground-based weapons were suppressed.

He glanced down at the update from the analysts.  With the battlestations gone, their discussions had devolved into an argument about if the aliens
really
understood English or if it was just a wild coincidence.  After all, as one analyst was arguing, the aliens were perfectly capable of seeing a vast fleet bearing down on them.  Evacuating the stations might have seemed a sensible idea, all the more so as alien installations across the system were going dark, one by one.  The aliens might not understand English at all!