James frowned, studying the holographic planet. “They might be establishing settlements of their own,” he said. “But surely they’d want to keep a close watch on the human settlements.”
“Surely,” the Captain agreed. “Assuming, of course, that they think like us.”
He looked over at the analyst. “Are there any signs they’re occupying the major cities?”
“No, but we would need to move the recon platforms into low orbit to be sure,” the analyst said. “We can’t pick up individual humans or aliens at this distance.”
The Captain nodded to James, then led the way into a side office. “It looks like we will have to go with Plan Gamma,” he said, once they were alone. “Do you have any disagreements?”
James hesitated, then shook his head. Plan Gamma made no attempt to liberate the planet, instead merely raiding the alien positions before beating a hasty retreat. Ivan and his team of commandos could try to make it down to the planet's surface while the aliens swarmed around, giving chase to the impudent human carrier…. and then linking into the recon network to upload messages to the next human formation to raid the system. It should work perfectly.
He shook his head again, sourly. The aliens had some technology that humanity hadn’t been able to duplicate. If they had yet another surprise, something that tipped the balance in their favour, they might be able to win the coming battle. James already knew they didn't dare come within hitting range of an alien frigate. Small as they were, their plasma cannons could do real damage.
“Then we will launch our unpowered missiles towards the planetary occupation forces and use the mass drivers to target their fleet,” the Captain said. “They won’t see the first attack coming, I hope, but after that…”
James scowled. War was a democracy, he knew. The enemy got a vote too.
“Tell the Russians to prepare for launch,” the Captain added. “We will start operations” — he checked his chronometer — “one hour from now.”
Ted felt the seconds ticking away one by one as he reviewed the data they’d pulled from the Russian network. The last Earth had seen of the Battle of New Russia — when the recording starship had made its escape — the aliens had been ripping the defending fleet to shreds. But there was more. Some of the Russian starships had made a final stand, fighting desperately to protect their adopted homeworld. Others had withdrawn into the outer reaches of the system to prepare for the day they could return to New Russia in triumph.
They hadn't been willing to commit themselves, Ted discovered, not entirely to his surprise. By any reasonable standard, Ark Royal was badly outnumbered and outgunned, leaving the Russians convinced that they had to make a hit and run attack, rather than chasing the aliens out of the system. But they had agreed to record the course of the battle, just so Earth would know what had happened. It was the most Ted could reasonably expect of them.
“Sir,” Farley said. “The mass drivers are ready to open fire.”
Ted smiled. One of the little realities of interplanetary combat that civilians were persistently unable to grasp was that an object, once in motion, remained in motion. There was no need for a rocket engine to push the object forward, not like there would be in a planetary atmosphere. The mass driver projectiles would keep going until they ran into something… which, in interplanetary space, wasn't too likely to happen. It was one of the reasons humanity had shied away from using mass drivers as weapons. One could be fired at a starship in orbit and miss, hitting the planet instead with terrifying force.
“Good,” he said. Fourteen of the escorting frigates had their own mass drivers, ready to add their fire to Ark Royal’s own. The targeting wouldn’t be precisely accurate, but hundreds of solid projectiles would be rocketing through space occupied by the alien formation. Unless, of course, the aliens decided to move before the projectiles reached them. “You may fire at will.”
The display changed as the first stream of projectiles launched from the giant carrier, rocketing away at a fair percentage of the speed of light. Ted silently calculated the odds against the aliens spotting them in advance, then silently prayed that the aliens didn't have a piece of technology that shattered humanity’s preconceptions. The search for a FTL sensor had been one of the holy grails of human technology for so long that most naval officers had come to believe it was impossible. But they’d believed the same of long-range FTL tramlines.
“Projectiles away, sir,” Farley said. On the display, the frigates were launching their own projectiles. “Impact projected in two hours, forty minutes.”
“Continue firing until we have drained our magazines to thirty percent,” Ted ordered. He was tempted to throw everything he had at the aliens, but he knew the value of keeping a reserve. It was unlikely that all of the alien craft would be destroyed by the bombardment. “Launch the unpowered missiles.”
He gritted his teeth. It went against the grain to launch unpowered missiles — they had many of the risks of using mass drivers, without some of the advantages — but there was no choice. Unlike the alien fleet, the starships they had covering the planet seemed to alter course randomly, as if they knew they were being observed. The missiles, when they went active, would be able to alter their courses to bring them to bear on the alien ships. None of the mass driver projectiles could be so flexible.
But they're also expensive, he thought, thinking wistfully of the battleship designs he’d seen during the extensive debriefings following their first encounter with the alien forces. Given a few years, we will have entire starships crammed with mass drivers… and lose some of the flexibility in having missiles.
The stream of projectiles came to an end. “We’ve reached thirty percent of our stockpiles,” Farley reported. “Holding fire.”
“Good,” Ted muttered. He raised his voice, fighting the urge to whisper. “Take us out on the pre-planned course.”
The downside of ballistic projectiles was that they didn't change course. Given a few moments, the aliens could easily project their course backwards and locate Ark Royal. But, once they'd moved, the aliens would be wasting their effort… or so he hoped.
He shook his head. Now, all they had to do was wait… and see how the aliens reacted. He tried to form a mental picture of their entire fleet smashed, like bugs, but he knew it wasn't likely to happen. They’d be lucky if they crippled or destroyed more than a carrier or two. “And the Russians?”
“They’re on their way,” Farley confirmed.
Poor brave stupid idiots, Ted thought. The odds against the Russians making it to the surface were staggering — and that assumed that the diversionary plan worked perfectly. If it didn't… somehow, Ted doubted the aliens would just ignore a mystery heat trail burning through the planet’s atmosphere. A single plasma blast would vaporise the Russian commandos, along with their fancy suits and re-entry gear.
He shook his head. All they could do now was wait.
“So the attack is underway,” Yang said. “The aliens have no idea we’re here?”
“So it would seem,” James agreed. Yang, at least, understood some of the implications. And he was smart enough not to demand immediate results. Space was big and — he glanced at the timer — there would still be several hours before they knew what, if anything, they’d hit. “They certainly haven’t ambushed us, even when we moved away from the tramline.”