But if they were wrong, Charles knew, it wouldn’t be long before the aliens cleared enough of the plasma cannons to allow the orbital craft to move in for the kill.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“There’s one inhabited planet, on the outer edge of the life-bearing zone,” Lopez reported, as they crossed the tramline into the unexplored system. “There’s definitely an orbital presence, but there doesn’t seem to be a major industrial node here.”
Ted wasn’t too surprised. The system didn’t seem to have any gas giant, as far as they could tell, and a gas giant was vitally important for large-scale industrialisation. They probably did have some local industry — unless the alien economy was very different from humanity’s it was probably cheaper to produce some items locally rather than ship it across several star systems — but not a shipyard. Besides, there didn’t seem to be any large-scale defences either.
“Good,” he said. He wanted — needed — to attack the system, to avenge the ambush and the dead crewmen and the damaged ships in the worst possible way, but he knew better. The aliens could not be allowed to catch even a sniff of their presence. “Keep us well away from anything that might detect us.”
“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. “Do you want to launch recon probes?”
Ted considered it, hastily. Recon probes were damn near impossible to detect; certainly, the aliens had no greater success at detecting them than humanity. But even the slightest hint that there was a human fleet in the system could be disastrous. The aliens didn’t seem to be aware that they had slipped through the tramline, but they could still jump back into the Target One system quicker than he, if they had reason to believe they should.
“No,” he said, finally. “We will restrict ourselves to long-range observations only.”
“Aye, sir,” Lopez said.
He looked down at the list of updates from the rest of the fleet and smiled, grimly. The aliens had inflicted considerable damage, but all five remaining carriers were still reasonably operational, apart from one that had taken some damage to her landing tubes. Her fighters had already been shared out among the remaining carriers as her engineering crews struggled to repair the damage. By the time they returned to Target One, Ted had been assured, they would either have a carrier capable of launching fighters once again or a ship that would need to sneak back to the tramline that headed back to human space.
“There are no traces of alien warships within the system,” Lopez added, ten minutes later. “I don’t even think there’s a major presence away from the settled world.”
“They may have gone dark,” Ted said. If he’d known there was a marauding enemy fleet in the next system, he would have ordered his forces to go dark too. “But keep us well away from anything that might detect us.”
He stood and walked towards the hatch, feeling his age pressing down on him. “Get some rest too,” he added, as the secondary CIC crew filed into the compartment. “All of you.”
Bracing himself, he walked down to his cabin and stepped into the compartment. This time, there was no Marine on guard duty. As soon as the hatch had closed, he sat down on his chair and looked down at the small embedded terminal. There were at least seven hours before the fleet was in position to slip through the tramline back to Target One.
Seven hours, he thought, coldly. A great deal can happen in seven hours.
Henry looked down at the flight roster with some dismay. After the first battle, it seemed that every successive battle was fought with new wingmen, all as unused to him as he was to them. This time, a pair of French pilots had been assigned to the squadron, both of whom claimed more experience than any of the British rooks. There had already been several arguments, which had finally been terminated by the CAG and a series of dire threats to have them cleaning the ship’s toilets with their own toothbrushes. Like the rest of them, Henry had realised, the CAG was right at the limits of his endurance. The pilots had stopped arguing very quickly after his threats.
Sighing, he walked out of the ready room — checking his communicator carefully — and made his way towards the observation blister. He felt an odd twinge of surprise when he discovered it was empty, although he knew he was being silly. He’d half-expected Janelle to be there, waiting for him. His hand twitched towards his communicator, intending to send her a message, then he pushed the thought aside. She might well be too busy right now to listen to him. Instead, he sat down on the bench and stared out at the stars.
He’d done well, he knew, and yet the squadron had been badly hammered. The aliens had pressed the offensive to the point where they’d actually managed to board Ark Royal, a thought that sent shivers down his spine. No one had seriously expected anything of the sort before the war… and, even after Ark Royal had captured an alien craft, no one had expected the aliens to try the same tactic. His hand dropped to the pistol at his belt, recalling the CAG’s stern instruction for his pilots to practice in the shooting range when they had time, even though none of them were groundpounders. But the Admiral’s paranoia had been proved to be entirely correct.
Tiredly, he closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, Janelle was sitting facing him, her long legs almost brushing against his knees. Henry smiled as soon as he saw her, wondering just why he hadn’t woken up when she entered the compartment. He’d never had any real privacy back home on Earth, to the point where the slightest sound could jerk him awake. Maybe it was a good sign, he told himself, that he felt he could trust her enough to fall asleep in front of her. Someone else might have taken photos of him while he slept and sold them to the tabloids. Or tried to push him into an incriminating position and then take photographs of him.
“Hi,” she said, with a brilliant smile. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Henry said. He snapped awake as he realised he might have slept through his shift and reached for his communicator. Thankfully, it had only been an hour, not long enough for him to miss his turn in the ready starfighters. The CAG would probably have murdered him if he’d failed to report for duty, or at the very least ensured there would be no promotion in his immediate future. “And you?”
“I’ve felt better,” she said. Up close, it was clear she was tired too. “This system seems suspiciously harmless.”
Henry nodded. He knew the feeling.
“So the Admiral told me to take some rest,” she added. “But I couldn’t sleep.”
“I had problems sleeping too,” Henry said. The sleep machines had always made him feel odd, even though they did replenish his energy reserves. “And so I came here.”
Janelle smiled at him. “It’s a good place to come, isn’t it,” she said. “Beautiful, but reasonably private.”
She leaned forward, opening her lips slightly. Henry leaned towards her and kissed her, gently. The kiss grew deeper and deeper until she was sitting next to him, without him having the slightest idea of when she’d moved from her chair. Her lips tasted faintly of summer, probably an engineered perfume. Royal Navy crewmen were only allowed minimal cosmetics.
“My mother thought it was an advantage to smell nice,” Janelle said, when he broke the kiss and asked. Despite her dark skin, she flushed with embarrassment. “She was always more traditional than my father. And she told me she wouldn’t speak to me again if I went into the Royal Navy.”
Henry winced. He had some relatives like that too, although in his case he was reasonably sure they were more concerned about avoiding a nasty succession crisis than Henry’s own survival. It had struck him, more than once, that they were wasting their time. If Henry died in the service, his sister would take the throne and any debate about male primacy would be put off for at least another generation. There wouldn’t be any way to argue, in the immediate aftermath of his father’s death, that Henry should take the throne if Henry was dead.