Instead, he forced himself to watch as the bombers closed in on their targets.
“Incoming enemy fighters,” Farley reported. “They’re targeting us specifically.”
James nodded. The aliens should have learned, by now, that they couldn’t damage the Old Lady’s hull with their plasma weapons, merely destroy her sensor blisters and weapons tubes by blasting them right off her hull. But it was a valid tactic, crippling the carrier… and besides, they could also intercept her fighters as they returned to the barn.
“The point defence is to engage as soon as they enter range,” he ordered. So far, the battle had gone humanity’s way, but that might be about to change. A single solid strafing run on one of the other carriers would almost certainly blow her apart. “And warn the CAG to prepare to dispatch a squadron to support our allies.”
He braced himself as the aliens closed in, ducking and weaving as they came. They’d been surprised, he suspected, when they’d seen that humanity, too, had plasma weapons, but they’d definitely adapted quickly. Not, in the end, that it mattered. Four alien craft died rapidly before the others opened fire, blasting their shots right into the carrier’s hull.
“Nineteen blisters destroyed,” Farley reported, grimly. “No internal damage.”
James narrowed his eyes. The aliens had to know Ark Royal by now; it wasn’t as if she was identical to any other carrier in service. At the very least, they had to know they were facing a carrier of the same class as the Old Lady. And yet they were using a tactic they knew would fail. It made no sense. Surely, they’d do better if they fell on the other carriers…
“Detail the CSP to force them back,” he said. Maybe it was a mistake, but he couldn’t leave the aliens to get on with whatever the hell they were doing. Half of any surprise, Admiral Webster had said, was misinterpreting what one was seeing. “And then…”
A dull tremor ran through the ship. “Report!”
“One of them rammed the hull, sir,” Anderson said. “Damage control teams are on their way.”
“Better make it quick,” James said, as the alien fighters concentrated, then launched themselves down towards the chink in the carrier’s armour. Oddly, he felt a moment of sympathy for the alien pilot. He’d sacrificed his life to give his buddies a chance at taking out the carrier. “The aliens certainly intend to take advantage.”
The CSP arrived seconds later, scattering the alien pilots. James let out a sigh of relief as the aliens fell back, then blasted their way through the entire formation before turning back to engage Napoleon. The French CSP intercepted them and took out four alien starfighters before the remaining fighters broke off and headed back towards Ark Royal. Behind them, Yamato and Lincoln’s fighters chased them, firing every time they got a clear shot.
“Their tactics make no sense,” he muttered. “They could have taken out one of the thin-skinned carriers if they’d tried.”
He contemplated it for a long second. The aliens weren’t stupid, so there had to be a reason behind their seeming insanity. But what? Was it possible, he asked himself, that they were facing the alien version of the Territorial Army, but in space? Civilian soldiers, called up in time of warfare… or maybe the aliens had just not attached any great importance to defending this part of space. If they’d thought it couldn’t be attacked, they wouldn’t have bothered to station front-line units to defend it. Maybe they’d put the carrier and two battlecruisers in the system to exercise and prepare for war.
But he would still have expected them to be more careful.
On the display, one of the alien battlecruisers vanished.
“Target Two is down,” Paton said. “Swing around to cover the bombers as they engage Target Three.”
Henry smiled, then concentrated as the remaining alien fighters closed in on the bombers, firing savagely towards their targets. He snapped off a shot at the aliens, then followed the rest of the squadron forward as the American fliers attacked from the rear. The aliens didn’t hesitate; they gunned their own engines and charged at the British starfighters, blasting past them at terrifying speed. Two more starfighters vanished, one without any clear explanation, as Henry yanked his starfighter around and raced in hot pursuit. But it was already too late.
“Shit,” he breathed, as the aliens passed through the bomber formation. The bombers didn’t stand a chance. One by one, they were picked off before the aliens turned and followed the battlecruiser into the inky darkness of space. He had the unmistakable feeling that the aliens had flipped them the bird before departing, fast enough to make pursuit useless. “They got away.”
“Not yet,” Paton said. “The French are on the way.”
“Oh,” North muttered. “Stopped holding back, have they?”
“That will do,” Paton snapped. “Cover them as they go into action.”
Henry found himself smiling, coldly, as the aliens responded to the new threat. They’d thought they’d escaped, but now… the French closed in, slipping into firing position as the alien starfighters turned and raced to engage them. Absently, Henry wondered just how long they could remain in space without recharging their drives and life support, even if they didn’t have to replace their expended weapons. No one had managed to take an alien starfighter intact.
He fired a shot at one of the alien starfighters, then watched as the French launched their torpedoes in one glorious salvo. The battlecruiser turned slightly, pouring point defence fire towards the missiles, but it couldn’t hope to take them all out. Five missiles made it into engagement range and detonated, sending more laser beams lashing into her hull. Somehow, absurdly, the battlecruiser remained intact. Instead of exploding, she turned back and kept crawling away from the task force.
“Wow,” someone breathed. “That’s one tough little ship.”
“Coming apart now,” North observed. “She’s dead for sure.”
Henry watched, shaking his head in awe, as the alien battlecruiser disintegrated. It was no longer an enemy now, just another starship fighting for survival — and losing. Moments later, something exploded, shattering the entire ship into countless pieces. The remaining alien starfighters turned and hurled themselves at the human ships. They killed five before the last of them was picked off and killed.
“We won,” North said. He sounded awed — and tired. “We won!”
“Yeah, you did,” the CAG said. “Well done, all of you.”
He paused. “The CSP is to remain on guard duty,” he added. “The remainder of you are to return to the barn at once.”
Henry nodded and glanced down at his display. Alpha Squadron had been lucky, he realised; they’d only lost one pilot. But he’d known her since he’d entered the Academy. Bitterly, he found himself torn between grief and a tiredness so complete that he could barely keep his eyes open. He reached for the injector tab and shot stimulant into his bloodstream, even though he knew he’d pay for it later. It would be worse than a hangover, but he didn’t dare fall asleep in the cockpit. His starfighter would never make it home.
There will be time to mourn later, he promised himself. And I survived. And I did well.
“The damage is already being repaired,” Captain Fitzwilliam said. “But it could have been a great deal worse.”
“It could have,” Ted decided. The task force’s first major battle… it was a good thing they’d had the enemy so badly outnumbered, he knew, because the battle had revealed a number of problems that had to be handled before they faced a stronger enemy force. “But we survived.”