Someone — the file refused to say who — had named the red star Barong. Ted puzzled over it for a long moment, then decided it didn’t matter. Barong had nothing to interest anyone, apart from a pair of tramlines that led to New Russia and Vera Cruz. Even the handful of asteroids and comets weren't particularly interesting. There was barely enough of them to sustain a very tiny settlement.
“No sign of pursuit,” Farley reported. “I…”
He broke off as red icons appeared on the display. “Contact,” he snapped. The mood on the bridge sank rapidly. “Four frigate-sized craft, Captain.”
Ted swore. He'd known better than to think they’d fool the aliens for long, but he had hoped… and now those hopes had been shattered. But the aliens had come through the tramline at some distance from them, enough — he prayed desperately — for them to overlook the carrier when they started searching in earnest. If they did start searching in earnest…
“Keep a sharp eye on them,” he ordered. It was possible that the aliens would merely maintain a watch for several hours, then pull back. Or that they would go doggo themselves and wait for the carrier to reveal herself. “Alert me if they start probing space near us.”
He silently ran through the vectors in his mind. Ark Royal might have been unpowered, but she was still moving away from the tramline at a considerable speed. Given enough time, they might make it far enough from the alien craft to be able to manoeuvre without being detected, although it would take days. He shook his head. Days of rest, recuperation and repair work sounded very good right now.
“Understood, sir,” Farley said. He sounded tired, utterly exhausted. “So far, they’re just holding position.”
Ted scowled, trying to put himself in his enemy’s shoes. What would he think, if he thought he’d seen the carrier he was chasing accidentally destroy herself? Would he suspect a trap or would he gloat over his victory and return to preparing the invasion of human space? Ted knew, naturally, that it was a trick. It was hard to imagine what the enemy would do when he knew that… and that the enemy was thoroughly alien. Who knew what would seem to make sense to them?
“Then we will do nothing,” he said. He shrugged. There was no shortage of repair work that had to be done. The point defence network had to be repaired, the mass drivers had to be reloaded… he smiled, thinking of the asteroids drifting in orbit around the dull red star. A few days of intensive mining and processing and they’d have more than enough projectiles to rebuild their stockpiles. “Contact the other ships. I want a complete breakdown of their status.”
He sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “And then switch out the Alpha shift completely,” he added. “Tell everyone that I want them to get at least a few hours of rest.”
His earpiece buzzed, two minutes later. “Captain,” Fitzwilliam said. “Might I advise you to get some rest too?”
Ted shook his head, then remembered that his XO couldn't see him. “No,” he said. Rest sounded a very good idea right now, but he knew his duty. “I have to stay on the bridge.”
“Captain,” Fitzwilliam said, “you’ve been in command for the last twenty hours. You need some rest. As your XO, I must insist on it.”
“You must insist,” Ted repeated. It was true; one of the duties of the XO was to point out when the Captain was overworking himself. The duty was laid down in naval regulations, but it made for some awkward conversations. Ted had never heard of any other XO actually carrying out the duty. But then, it wasn't the sort of thing that would be recorded in starship logbooks. “And yourself?”
“I snatched a nap before we launched the attack,” Fitzwilliam reminded him. “I’ll take the next few hours on the bridge, then you can relieve me.”
Ted sighed and gave up. “Very well,” he said. “You take the bridge. I’ll be in my office.”
He looked back at the display as the channel closed. The alien ships were still holding position, watching and waiting. If they started to search… but they weren’t moving. Every moment they delayed, he knew, Ark Royal’s chances of escape grew much stronger. But realistically… all they would have to do was blockade the two tramlines and prevent the carrier from leaving the system. If, of course, they thought the carrier was still intact.
The hatch opened, revealing Fitzwilliam. Ted took a moment of petty pleasure in noting that the XO looked tired and exhausted himself, then rose to his feet and surrendered the bridge to his subordinate. The XO eyed him for a long moment, clearly concerned, then nodded towards the office hatch. Tiredly, Ted left the bridge and stepped into his office, then noticed that his terminal was blinking. The list of dead officers and men — mainly starfighter pilots — was waiting for him.
Ted glanced at it, then cursed under his breath. He knew he should feel something — anything — for the dead, but he was too tired to let their loss affect him. Instead, he sat down on the sofa, then lay down and closed his eyes. Sleep overwhelmed him seconds later.
“It’ll take us at least four days to close all the blind spots,” Anderson said. “The bastards did a damn good job of peeling away our defences.”
James sighed, rubbing his forehead. His head hurt, but he didn't dare take anything for it, not even a simple painkiller. The last thing he needed was to have his judgement impaired any further. Even as it was, he was deeply worried about accidentally doing something that would alert the aliens to their position. The carrier was in no state to fight off a renewed offensive.
The Chief Engineer was right, he knew. Ark Royal had lost enough of her point defence to make her hellishly vulnerable, although none of the internal systems and power conduits had actually been destroyed. Given time, the damage could be repaired, while the destroyed weapons could be replaced from the stockpiles they’d taken onboard before they’d departed from Earth. But would they have the time?
“Start work as soon as possible, but remember we have to remain undetected,” he ordered. Ideally, he would have preferred to wait a week, long enough to place quite some distance between themselves and the alien craft even without the main drives. But if the aliens caught them now, they wouldn't have a hope of fighting back long enough to reach the other tramline. “I don't want a single betraying emission.”
Anderson gave him an offended look. “My crew are not amateurs,” he said, crossly. “They know what they’re doing.”
James opened his mouth to deliver a stinging rebuke, then realised that the engineer was as exhausted as everyone else. “Get some sleep first,” he said, instead. “Your second can handle the work.”
“I don’t trust anyone to work on the Old Lady without supervision,” Anderson said, flatly. “With your permission…?”
“Keep me informed,” James said. Four days of work, all of which had to be undertaken without emitting a single betraying pulse of energy that would bring the aliens down on them like a hammer. It wasn’t going to be easy. “And don’t hesitate to conscript others if you need more hands.”
He sighed, remembering one of the stories passed down from his illustrious ancestors. One particular Fitzwilliam had shocked his aristocratic relatives by taking command of a submarine, rather than an aircraft carrier or a battleship, during the war against Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. That Fitzwilliam had once spent several days being hunted by German ships after a mission into the Baltic Sea had gone badly wrong. James hadn't understood how his ancestor had felt, not until now. Detection would mean almost certain death.