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Authors: Christopher Nuttall

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BOOK: The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal)
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Henry frowned – Rose hardly sounded commanding – but obeyed, making a mental note to have a private chat with her later.  It was probably against regulations to do so ... he shook his head.  Given that he planned to leave the Royal Navy at the end of the war, it wouldn't matter if she wrote angry remarks in his file – and besides, it was unlikely anyone would take them seriously. 

 

He sighed, inwardly.  Had he finally fallen into the trap of using his rank as a weapon?

 

The wave of alien starfighters kept their distance from
Ark Royal
, but positioned themselves to stand between the human ships and the War Faction’s flotilla.  Henry watched grimly, wondering if the War Faction’s monomania would lead it to open fire on the other aliens, even though they were grossly outgunned.  But it seemed not.  Instead, the aliens recovered their starfighters and set out for the tramline, exchanging angry messages with their fellows the whole time.  Henry would have liked to be able to understand what they were saying.  He had a feeling that it would have shown him more of just how the alien society actually worked.

 

But it wasn't possible.  One day, he knew, there would be an automatic translator that would allow translations to be carried out in real time.  Until then, all they could do was wait ... and pray it wasn't an elaborate trick.

 

***

“Hold fire,” Ted ordered, as the alien starfighters slipped into position.  He had to admire their nerve, although the certainty of possessing superior firepower had probably helped the alien decision to cover
Ark Royal
.  “Recall one half of the starfighters and get them replenished, then replace the CSP and send them through replenishment.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Janelle said. 

 

Ted nodded to himself, then looked back at the display.  He'd known absolute despair as the wall of starfighters rushed towards his ships, then a burst of pure relief as the aliens ordered their fellows to stop firing.  He couldn't help reflecting on how the aliens had clearly drawn inspiration from humanity’s actions.  Kurt Schneider’s death had definitely not been in vain, not when he'd given his life to save the aliens from the Russians.  The aliens had mirrored that action when they’d put themselves between the humans and the War Faction.

 

But the War Faction’s ships were still retreating, broadcasting angry messages towards the alien world.  Their homeworld, perhaps?  Ted knew there was no way they could be translated properly, leaving him with a disturbing mystery.  What, if anything, was the War Faction actually
saying
?  His imagination provided everything from lists of Captain Haddock’s favourite insults to promises of revenge at a much later date.  But the aliens seemed inclined to just let the War Faction go without taking further action.  It couldn't be that serious, could it?

 

His console buzzed.  “Admiral,” Commander Williams said, “is it wise to draw down the CSP?”

 

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Ted said.  “The starfighters do need replenishment – and besides, they have enough firepower to make the issue immaterial.  If half of those ships are armed with missiles, they’ll take us apart within seconds, no matter how many starfighters we have on CSP.”

 

“Yes, Admiral,” Commander Williams said.  She sounded annoyed and worried; Ted didn't blame her.  With her commanding officer in sickbay and unlikely to return to duty anytime soon, the responsibility for commanding the ship had fallen on her shoulders.  At least she’d had more experience of being the XO than Captain Fitzwilliam, when he’d assumed command.  “However, we still don’t understand their intentions ...”

 

“I suspect we will find out,” Ted said.  He smiled.  “Personally, I’m inclined to view this as a hopeful gesture.  If the other factions are prepared to intervene to help us, we may well have grounds for peace after all.”

 

He sighed inwardly as the connection broke.  Despite his optimism, and he
was
optimistic, he knew it wouldn't be that easy.  The human race had an agreement that there would be no serious fighting within the Sol System itself.  It was quite possible that the aliens had something comparable, something that had forced them to intervene despite preferring not to take a side.  But they’d already taken a side, simply by intervening.  Somehow, Ted was sure the War Faction wouldn't change its ways because the other factions had disagreed with it.

 

“Admiral,” Janelle said, “I have the basic damage report.”

 

“Show me,” Ted ordered.

 

He studied the display for a long moment, silently blessing the starship’s long-dead designers.  They’d worked enough redundancy into the carrier that the damaged compartments could simply be sealed off, rather than repaired before they returned to Earth and entered a shipyard.  And the launching tubes could be patched up, given enough time.  The whole system was designed for quick repair.  It was, after all, the most vulnerable place on the ship.

 

But the real problem lay in the damaged armour.  There was enough damage to ensure that the aliens would have several places to shoot at, when they returned to the offensive.  They couldn't be patched up in time, not without a shipyard ...

 

“Tell the engineers to do what they can,” he said.  “Then order the compartments evacuated and sealed.  I don’t want anyone in them if we have to engage the enemy once again.”

 

“Aye, Admiral,” Janelle said. 

 

Ted took a breath as he mentally worked through the list of repairs.  They’d loaded additional sheets of more modern armour when they’d crammed the ship before departure, but he knew it wouldn't have the resiliency of the old-style protection.  The aliens might realise that the hull wasn't properly patched and target it specifically.  It was what Ted would have done in their place.  And it would prove hellishly effective.

 

Bastards
, he thought.

 

“We also fired off half of our mass driver projectiles,” Janelle added.  “The tactical section is requesting permission to mine a nearby asteroid.”

 

Ted shook his head.  He could see their point – mass drivers tended to run through ammunition at terrifying speed – but the aliens might well object to humanity taking some of their patrimony.  They could ask, of course, yet he had the feeling the aliens would say no.  It would probably be better, from their point of view, to have the Old Lady effectively disarmed. 

 

We wouldn't be too happy about an armed alien ship orbiting Earth,
he thought, ruefully. 
Why would they be any different?

 

“Admiral, Ambassador Melbourne is requesting an immediate meeting,” Janelle said, suddenly.  “There doesn’t seem to be time to bring him back to the ship, so he wants to open a secure channel.”

 

“I’ll take it in my office,” Ted said, rising to his feet.  A request for a secure channel ... it had to be bad news.  “Inform Commander Williams that she has tactical command; continue to monitor the repairs and inform me if anything requires my attention.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Janelle said.

 

Ted stepped through the hatch into his office, sat down at his desk and pressed his hand against the sensor, allowing the terminal to identify him.  The touch reminded him of Captain Fitzwilliam’s implant, missing – presumed destroyed – since the destruction of the stolen starfighter.  They’d have to produce another implant, Ted knew, for Captain Fitzwilliam or Commander Williams if she assumed permanent command.  The medical reports had suggested that would be the case, sooner rather than later.  Captain Fitzwilliam was in no state to resume command.

 

“Ambassador,” he said, when Melbourne’s face appeared in the small display.  “I understand you wished to speak to me?”

 

“Yes, Admiral,” Ambassador Melbourne said.  He looked deeply worried.  “The aliens just informed me that the War Faction has fragmented.  One faction has decided to accept peace, Admiral, but the other faction has no intention of ending the war.”

 

Ted felt ice crawling down the back of his spine.  It had happened before, when humans fought humans, that some extremists refused to accept a negotiated peace, even when the peace terms were in their favour.  Some of them had even managed to prolong the war until the end was undeniable.  And they’d always cost their fellows dearly. 

 

He took a breath.  “Admiral,” he warned, “they’re going to attack
Earth
!”

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

James had rarely felt quite so helpless in his entire life.  He’d endured his fair share of bumps and bruises as a child, including a fall from a horse that had left one leg broken, but nothing ever quite like this.  It had taken hours of arguing to convince Doctor Hastings that he could attend conferences in a wheelchair, then he’d had to endure the indignity of being pushed through the corridors by his steward.  The only saving grace was that he wasn't – quite – out of command.  It wouldn't last, but for the moment he intended to savour it.

 

But being in a wheelchair was nothing compared to the thought of what was advancing towards Earth.

 

“The War Faction has mustered a considerable fleet,” Admiral Smith said.  His fingers traced the tramlines on the holographic display.  “It is their intention to head directly to Earth and end the war by bombarding the planet with radioactive weapons.  Earth will be rendered uninhabitable and billions of humans – billions
more
humans – will die.”

 

James took a breath.  It hurt even to breathe.  “Can't the other factions stop them?”

 

“Apparently not,” Admiral Smith said.  “They took heavy losses in the earlier battles too, Captain.  They claim they don’t have more than a handful of ships available and they’re holding them back to defend their worlds against the War Faction.”

 

“Or us, if we retaliate,” Farley said.  The tactical officer leaned forward.  “Some of their factions may want peace, but they might also think that the War Faction succeeding wouldn't actually be a bad thing.  Or they may assume we can tell the difference between factions when we counterattack.”

 

“Or they may all be hostile, just disinclined to lift a finger themselves,” James said.  He’d seen aristocrats watch others self-destruct without doing anything to save their lives, merely because it was more fun to watch than intervene.  “Can we stop them?”

 

“Earth’s defences ... were badly battered during the previous battle,” Admiral Smith said.  “If the objective is to get a single radioactive warhead into the planet’s atmosphere, Captain, they’ll succeed.    A stealth missile will accomplish the mission perfectly.”

 

Just like we planned with the bioweapon
, James thought. 
And we may still deploy the bioweapon in response to the War Faction’s attack.

 

Admiral Smith leaned forward.  “According to the aliens, the War Faction has a base here,” he said, tapping one location on the starchart.  “You will note that it is some distance from the border, as they suspected there would be further contacts between Heinlein and Vera Cruz and they wanted distance between us and their shipyards.  Their fleet is gathered there ...”

 

“We can't get there in time,” James said.  It would take at least two weeks to get to the alien system, by which time the aliens would have already started off towards Earth.  The signal ordering the offensive would probably have
already
reached the system.  His chest twanged, painfully.  “Admiral ... is it hopeless?”

 

“No,” the Admiral said.  “I believe there is another possibility.  They must assume we will be warned, so they will take the shortest possible route to Earth.  In order to do so, they will have to jump through the New Russia system.”

 

He looked from face to face.  “We will depart within the hour, along with all but one of our flotilla,” he continued.  “If we move at considerable speed, we should be able to reach New Russia before the aliens and prepare to make a stand there.”

 

“We will be pushing the drives to the limit,” Anderson warned.  The Chief Engineer looked exhausted.  “If we lost the drive midway to our destination, Admiral, we would be screwed.”

 

“We have to take the risk,” Admiral Smith said.  “We can try to buy time for Earth to prepare its defences, or even come to our aid.  That is
all
we can do.”

 

He rose to his feet.  “It has been seventy years since the Old Lady was commissioned into the Royal Navy,” he said.  “Until this war began she was not tested in combat.  But now she has been tested and she has done us proud.  She will do us proud once again in this, our final battle.

BOOK: The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal)
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