He braced himself as the starfighter rocketed out of the launch tube, followed by the remaining twenty-one pilots under his command. Barely two squadrons, he noted, composed of survivors from six separate units. His idea for expanding Starfighter Command, he decided, would have to be implemented as soon as they got home. The Royal Navy couldn't afford these loss rates — there was a shortage of trained personnel — and nor could any of the other human powers.
We might have to do more than just train more starfighter pilots, he thought. No one had ever foreseen a joint campaign against an alien enemy… at least as far as he knew. Soon, they might have to take Russian or Chinese pilots onboard Ark Royal or assign British pilots to fly off their carriers. We will have to unify everything.
Ark Royal had plenty of non-British components packed into her hull, but Ark Royal was unique. It would be harder to add Russian components to a modern British carrier, even American or European components required careful modification before they could be used without causing problems down the line. That would have to change, he knew; the next generation of human warships would have to be completely compatible, even among human states that were historical enemies. He wondered, absently, if their mission — if it succeeded — would give Britain the diplomatic clout to insist on standardising everything… or if the Admiralty would attempt to keep the alien starship to itself. There was precedent for both, he knew, and no way to know how the politicians would jump.
He pushed his meditations aside as the alien battlecruiser started to turn, angling its prow towards the oncoming starfighters. Kurt puzzled over the movement for a long moment, then realised that the aliens were revealing as little of themselves as possible to Ark Royal’s mass drivers. They seemed less concerned about the starfighters, he decided, which wasn't too surprising. Unlike a human ship, their point defence could fire randomly, sweeping through space in the hopes of scoring a lucky hit. The closer the starfighters came, the greater the chance of the aliens hitting their target.
“Ark Royal is engaging now,” a voice said, though the datanet. “Missiles inbound; I say again, missiles inbound.”
Kurt nodded. They were placing everything on one last throw of the dice. Every missile, every remaining projectile — although those could be replaced, given time — and every starfighter. He wondered, again, just how much the aliens actually knew. Did they realise that their target was about to expend the last of its weapons?
They configured their weapons for our modern ships, he thought. It made sense, he decided; the aliens had taken the measure of their opponents, then attacked with savage force. Earth would have fallen as easily as New Russia, he suspected, if Ark Royal hadn't intercepted the alien task force. And now the aliens were taking stock, presumably building up their own weapons to confront a new and unexpected threat. He smirked at the thought. Didn't expect the Old Lady, did they?
“Picking up power surges around the alien prow,” Rose reported. She paused, then spoke in a dramatic tone of voice. “If I don't come back, get in touch with my mother and tell her I was alive all this time, I just couldn't be bothered to call the old bat.”
“It was a mistake to let you pick the entertainment for the ready room,” Kurt said. He grinned, imagining her outraged expression. “On my command, break and attack; I say again, break and attack!”
“The alien energy signature is growing stronger,” Farley reported. “The analysts are unsure what we’re facing.”
Ted nodded, studying the display as if the answers would magically appear. It didn't look like anything they recognised, not a point defence system or a FTL drive. Or a normal space drive, for that matter. There was a sudden energy spike…
Ark Royal rocked, violently. Ted was nearly pitched out of his chair as the compensators struggled to handle the unexpected assault. Alarms sounded; the display glowed red, sounding the alert. Ted gripped hold of his chair and held on for dear life as the network attempted to identify the damage.
“Direct hit to our starboard launch tube,” Farley reported. He sounded badly shaken. “Our armour took most of the blow, but there's some internal damage.”
He paused. “Something damaged our external sensors too,” he added. “We're down thirty percent of capacity.”
Ted swore. He’d thought they were out of alien weapons range. Clearly, the aliens had had other ideas. But why hadn't they used the system earlier?
“Rotate us,” he ordered, quickly. Damage control teams were already on their way, he was pleased to note, although they were somewhat undermanned with the absence of the Marines. If worst came to worst, they could withdraw the crew to the main hull and then separate the launch tube from the remainder of the starship. “Present our strongest armour to them, then launch decoy drones.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said.
Ted looked back the alien ship, clearly preparing to take another shot. Ark Royal was tough, but tough enough to take several more blows like that? Somehow, he doubted it.
“Launch sensor drones too,” he added. His display pinged as the analysts finally came up with a theory about the alien weapon. They’d supercharged a plasma cannon, then used it to take shots at Ark Royal. Their best guess, he saw at the bottom, was that the weapon couldn't be fired very rapidly or the aliens would burn out their own systems. “And hold us here.”
He wanted to pull back, to escape the alien weapon. But he needed to keep their attention focused firmly on the carrier, not on anything else.
“Continue firing,” he ordered. It would be the height of irony, he decided, if they actually scored a hit with the mass drivers. The alien battlecruiser didn't look tough enough to survive a direct hit. “Don't give them a moment to think.”
“They're advancing towards us,” Rose reported. “Alien point defence is coming online.”
Kurt nodded, then threw his craft into a series of evasive patterns that no computer could hope to match, let alone predict. It was just in time. Apparently heartened by scoring a hit on Ark Royal, the alien battlecruiser was gliding forward, intent on getting into range for another shot. According to a stream of data at the bottom of his screen, the alien weapon lost its effectiveness at long range. A shot at close range might blow the carrier apart like an eggshell.
“Noted,” he said. The rate of alien fire was increasing, picking off missiles and inert projectiles with surprising accuracy. “We need to keep them busy.”
Bracing himself, he altered course and zoomed towards the alien craft in a straight line for as long as he dared, around five seconds. His spine prickled as he altered course sharply, just as a spray of plasma fire lanced through where he’d been. Moments later, a warhead detonated close to the alien craft, blasting an EMP straight towards her hull. The rate of plasma fire slacked rapidly, but didn't come to an end. Their targeting, on the other hand, seemed to go entirely to hell.
“They didn't lose the big gun,” Gladys exclaimed. “It's still charging up.”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” Kurt said. He yanked his starfighter back, then powered down towards the alien hull. Most of the plasma cannon was embedded into the alien ship, but enough of the containment system was exposed to make it an easy target. “Fire at will.”
The alien cannon buckled under the spray of pellets from his railgun. Kurt watched a sudden surge of energy spike, then fade back into nothingness. He thought, for a brief chilling moment, that they’d actually succeeded in starting a chain reaction that would take out the entire ship. Normally, that would have let them paint an alien silhouette on their starfighters, but now it would be a disaster. Thankfully, the aliens merely altered course as they powered down their weapons.