“No major damage,” Anderson reported. The Chief Engineer sounded as relieved as Ted felt. “I say again, no major damage.”
“Continue firing,” Ted ordered, as Delta wing chased the alien starfighters over the carrier’s hull. “Drive them away from us.”
He glanced down at the reports, sighing in relief. Ark Royal’s armour could take the alien blasts… but it wouldn't stop the alien starfighters from disarming and blinding the carrier by picking off her weapons and sensors. One by one, the alien craft fell back towards their own carriers, clearly rethinking their task. Behind them, Gamma wing gave chase while Delta wing remained with Ark Royal.
“Lock mass drivers on target,” he ordered. The alien carriers were coming into effective range, although — unlike powered missiles — the mass drivers were nothing more than ballistic weapons. “Prepare to fire.”
What, he asked himself absently, would a mass driver do to a modern carrier? Assuming a direct hit, it would rip the carrier apart from end to end. It made him wonder if there had been a quiet agreement among the various interstellar powers to ban mass drivers from starships, even though they were effective weapons. If there was, it wouldn't last much longer, not if the theories were correct. The aliens were about to be kissed.
“Weapons locked on target,” Farley reported. “Ready to fire.”
Ted smiled. “Fire,” he ordered.
Projectiles launched from mass drivers couldn't alter course, allowing them to be evaded fairly easily if the target saw them coming. But they made up for that by being immensely destructive if they did hit, as well as fast enough to give the targets relatively little warning of their arrival. The aliens clearly didn't see them coming in time; one carrier was smashed amidships by a projectile, while another, clearly badly damaged, limped out of formation and started to retreat.
“Two direct hits,” Farley said. On the display, the first alien carrier disintegrated in a series of tearing explosions. “The mass driver is reloading.”
“Fire as soon as possible,” Ted ordered. The mass driver took too long to reload, another problem that would have to be solved before the end of the war. “Target an untouched alien ship.”
The aliens seemed uncertain of what to do, he realised, as he watched their formation spread apart. They clearly hadn't expected the mass driver, but now they’d seen it they were taking precautions, making it harder to guarantee a direct hit. And mass drivers needed direct hits to be effective…
“Take us towards them,” he ordered. Ark Royal was large and intimidating and she’d just handed out the worst beating the aliens had taken in the war. If they were lucky, the aliens might just break off… but he wasn’t sure he wanted them to break off. He wanted revenge for the dead crewmen who’d died at New Russia. “Order our escorts to open fire.”
The alien starfighters altered course, then swept back towards Ark Royal. Ted watched grimly as he realised what the aliens had in mind. Take out the mass driver, take out the missile tubes… and Ark Royal would be practically defenceless. He barked orders as the alien craft closed in, blowing through the defending starfighters, only to run straight into the teeth of the carrier’s point defence. They weren't even trying to stealth themselves.
The stealth system must have a huge power requirement, he decided, as the starfighters lanced down and opened fire. Again, the armour deflected most of it, but a number of weapons and sensors were blown off the hull. Absently, he wondered what would happen if the aliens kept firing into where the weapons had been. There were additional layers of armour under the primary hull, but they weren't as thick as the first line of defence.
“Firing,” Farley reported. There was a long pause as five solid projectiles raced towards their targets. “One hit; three more picked off by the aliens.”
One solid miss, Ted noted. He cursed under his breath. The aliens had thought of using counter-battery fire — and, unlike most offensive weapons, mass drivers were vulnerable to defensive fire. It was simple enough to predict their courses and take them out before it was too late. Given time, the human raced might manage to build enough mass driver-armed ships to render that a moot point, but God alone knew what the aliens would improvise as a countermeasure. Or were they incapable of innovation? It didn't seem likely.
They’re not stupid, he told himself. Dealing with a stupid enemy would be easier — but a stupid enemy could never have built those ships. Whatever else they are, they're not stupid.
He scowled. He really needed a drink.
“Lock missiles on target, then open fire,” he ordered, instead. On the display, the alien carriers had started to reverse course, tacitly abandoning the battlefield. But it would take them at least ten minutes to reach a usable tramline. He’d be able to use that time to hammer their ships into scrap metal. “And continue firing with the mass drivers until we run out of projectiles.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said. “Opening fire… now.”
On the display, Ark Royal and her escorts went to rapid fire. Moments later, the enemy point defence came to life, spewing out blasts of plasma fire like machine gun bursts…
Ted gritted his teeth. If they shot their magazines dry, the aliens could still win. This was going to hurt…
Chapter Ten
Kurt had expected, he realised now, the alien carrier to look rather like human carriers, which tended to follow the same basic design. Ark Royal was the only real exception and then only because her designers hadn't known as much about designing starships as their successors. But the aliens, it was clear, had their own aesthetics. Their carriers were giant spheres, seemingly completely unarmed. And yet, when the human starfighters came within range, bursts of plasma fire swept out towards them from hidden gun ports.
“Evasive action,” he snapped, yanking his starfighter away from a burst of light that almost ripped him apart. The aliens, it seemed, didn't have to worry about running out of ammunition. Nor were they inclined to hold back some of their starfighters to provide a combat space patrol. “Let the bombers go in to launch missiles.”
He watched, grimly, as the bombers launched their missiles. The aliens, realising the threat, focused all of their attention on the nuclear-tipped warheads, wiping all but one of them out before they stuck the alien hull. One missile made it through and detonated, significantly damaging the alien carrier. It drifted out of formation, then exploded in a shockingly powerful blast. Kurt wondered, absently, just what the aliens used for a power source.
Antimatter would have killed us all, he guessed, as he led the fighters back towards the carrier. Nearly a third of the bombers had been wiped out, while the remainder had shot their missiles. The aliens had a definite advantage… he hoped, silently, that the human race managed to improve their own directed-energy weapons or plasma cannons. Without them, they were always going to be at a disadvantage.
The alien starfighters lanced back towards the human craft, intent on killing them before they could return to Ark Royal and rearm. Kurt barked orders, then led his craft through the enemy formation, firing madly at brief targets. Two alien craft died, the remainder fell back and let the humans escape. Behind them, Ark Royal and her escorts were approaching rapidly, launching a steady stream of missiles. Another alien carrier, already badly damaged, exploded into a ball of expanding plasma, leaving the remainder to escape as best as they could. The alien escorts were already putting themselves between the carriers and Ark Royal.