He paused as the alien position came into view. They weren’t very good, he noted, but perhaps it wasn’t too surprising. Their wars were probably fought below the waters, rather than on the surface; hell, maybe they found the surface world more than a little uncomfortable. He’d read the reports on the alien battlecruiser and, even though it hadn’t been filled with water as some analysts had expected, it’s atmosphere was moist enough to cause real problems for the maintenance crews. The Old Lady’s atmosphere was far drier than anything in Britain, or even on Earth outside a desert.
“Fire,” he ordered.
The aliens barely noticed before the first rounds slammed into their bodies. Two of them spun around desperately and fired back towards the Marines; the remainder died where they stood, caught between two fires. Luke braced himself and ran forward as the sound of shooting faded away, checking the alien bodies one by one. Nothing, he told himself, could survive so many rounds through their most vulnerable sections. Still, he checked them anyway. There were quite a few animals who could soak up a great deal of damage and keep going, even without cybernetic modifications.
“I think we killed them,” one of his men said.
“Leave the bodies,” Luke ordered. They’d have to be removed by the ship’s crewmen, after careful precautions were taken to avoid any biological hazard. The scientists believed that there was no chance of an alien disease moving into a human host, but there was no point in taking chances. “We need to get back to their shuttles.”
He led the way back into the damaged section, keeping a careful eye out for any surviving aliens. But they found nothing until they reached the shuttles themselves, all of which seemed to be completely useless. Their drives and sensors had been reduced to dust by — he assumed — microscopic self-destruct systems. The aliens evidently hadn’t wanted to take the risk of any more of their technology falling into human hands.
“We’ll sweep the section,” he said. In hindsight, the alien attack seemed odd, as if they’d been experimenting rather than committing everything to the raid. There was something about it that didn’t make sense. Had the aliens put it together in a hurry or was there something else they hadn’t seen? “But it appears we got them all.”
“Good,” the Captain said. “But make sure you check everywhere an alien might be hiding, including the outer hull.”
“Yes, sir,” Luke said. He did have some experience, after all. But he couldn’t blame the Captain for worrying. “It will be done.”
There was a click as someone else joined the conversation. “This is the Admiral,” a new voice said. “I want you to check for any other surprises the aliens might have left behind.”
“Understood,” Luke said. He scowled, inwardly. It wasn’t going to be easy. The ship’s interior had been badly mangled by the lasers. Something out of place might well be missed completely. “We’ll start looking now, but we’ll need assistance.”
“I’ll detail crew to assist you,” the Captain said. He sounded grim, but resolved. At least he understood the problem, which was more than Luke expected from some senior officers, and wasn’t bitching about needing to keep his crew to repair the ship. “Inform us the moment you find anything.”
“I’ll launch the alien craft into space,” Luke said. “I don’t think we’ll pull anything useful from them and we don’t have time to take them apart.”
“Do so,” the Admiral said. “And good luck.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“We have lost sensor locks from the remains of Force One,” Lopez reported.
Ted sighed in relief. A careful search of the damaged section of the hull had found nothing, apart from dead bodies and plenty of destroyed systems, but he doubted it could be taken completely for granted. Civilians said the military was anal about making sure that everything was in order, yet it made it easier to spot anything out of place. Now, with the hull torn open and badly compromised, anything could have been left there in the wreckage.
“Deploy decoy drones,” he ordered, taking a long look at Force Two. Given the battering his forces had taken, he had few doubts that Force Two could finish them, if the aliens chose to leave their station and drive straight for the human fleet. But that would open up the risk of the humans managing to evade them and slipping back to the tramline. “And then recall all fighters.”
He looked down at the display as the fighters slowly returned to their motherships, then settled into the landing bays. There were over a hundred new radio sources where the alien starships had been, each one — he assumed — an alien lifepod. If there had been time to pick them up… he shook his head, dismissing the thought. Even if there had been time, it would have been far too dangerous. The aliens might well attempt to resist recovery efforts.
“All fighters have returned to their ships,” Lopez said, after several minutes had passed. “I confirm we lost roughly a third of our fighters.”
Ted cursed under his breath. There were spare fighters in the fleet train’s holds, assuming they managed to link back up with the freighters they’d left in Target One, but there were few spare pilots. The CAG going out to fight might have been against regulations, yet it had been necessary; Ted only wished he had more trained pilots at his disposal. But the Royal Navy hadn’t been able to produce enough pilots in time. He made a mental note to raise the issue once again when they returned to Earth, or to invite crewmen to attempt to qualify on the simulators. It would be better than nothing.
“Understood,” he said. He paused, studying the display. “Prepare the ships for switchover… now.”
“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. There was a long silence as she worked her console. “All ships confirm readiness, sir.”
“Good,” Ted said. “Trigger the drones, then take us into darkness.”
He watched, grimly, as the drones moved ahead of the fleet. If they were lucky, alien long-range sensors would mistake the drones for the fleet, allowing the fleet itself to alter course and make a long dog-leg towards the system’s second tramline. And if they weren’t lucky… Ted had few illusions. If the aliens detected them trying to race towards the second tramline, they’d either give chase or set up an ambush back in Target One.
“Drones underway,” Lopez confirmed. “They’re on the planned course.”
Ted nodded, hoping they’d struck the right balance between maintaining their distance from Tramline One without heading too obviously towards Tramline Two. It was logical, he knew, for his fleet to want to take the time for repairs, particularly now that Ark Royal herself was badly damaged. The aliens shouldn’t see anything unusual in that, he hoped. They’d be more interested in waiting for reinforcements themselves before pushing the attack against the fleet home.
“Alter course,” he ordered. “We will proceed towards Tramline Two.”
Grimly, he looked down at the roster of missing or dead crewmen. Over three hundred crewmen were believed to the dead after the attack on Ark Royal, although only seventy bodies had been pulled from the damaged sections and shipped to the shuttlebay for emergency storage. The remainder might have been vaporised, tossed into space by the aliens or simply kidnapped. Ted had his doubts — the sensors hadn’t recorded any alien shuttles leaving Ark Royal after they’d boarded her — but there was no way to be sure until all of the bodies were recovered. Some of them might only be identifiable through DNA testing.
He switched to the list of dead pilots and shook his head, grimly. Over a dozen pilots were dead, including seven of the bomber pilots, a testament to the sheer determination they’d shown in pressing their attacks against the alien fleet. The remainder would have to be reconfigured into brand new squadrons, once again, and then sent out to fight when they broke back into Target One. Ted winced at the thought, but he knew there was no alternative, not when there were over four thousand soldiers on the surface. He was damned if he was leaving them behind.