He scowled. The alien tactics made no sense. It looked as though they were trying to rush the carrier, a pointless exercise if there weren’t infinite reserves. Their forces would probably punch through the CSP and strafe the hull — the Admiral’s insistence on letting the aliens fire first unless they crossed the red line would make certain of it — but it wouldn’t get them anything. Unless they had a nasty surprise up their sleeves…
Which they don’t wear, he thought, dryly. Perhaps they’re just so desperate to restart the war that they’re trying to goad us into firing on the other factions. But the more distance we put between ourselves and them, the less-likely that is to happen. We’re not going to accidentally fire on the good guys…
“They will cross the red line in thirty seconds,” Rose said. Everyone could already see it from their displays. “Lock weapons on target; prepare to engage.”
And the game, if game it is, becomes serious, Henry thought. But what are they doing?
“Red line in ten seconds,” Rose said. “Choose your partners…”
Henry felt his stomach clench. It had been easier before he’d been a captive, he realised, easier to deal out death against a faceless and monstrous enemy. Now…
They want to restart the war, he thought. What were they doing? Were they planning to sacrifice themselves in the hopes of convincing the other factions to rejoin the war or did they merely intend to carry on without their former allies? Did they intend to force the humans into firing first or were they merely taking advantage of the situation to get closer before they opened fire? Or were they planning to break off at the very last minute?
They could have engaged us already, if they’d chosen to open fire, he thought. We’re well inside their engagement range and vice versa.
And yet they didn’t know about the red line. How could they?
But it didn’t matter, he told himself, until after the war had been brought to a formal end, when historians from both sides could fight and refight the war at leisure. They have to be stopped.
“Enemy craft are launching missiles,” Rose said. “All starfighters; engage. I say again; all starfighters, engage.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Enemy craft are launching missiles,” Janelle reported.
Ted nodded, unsurprised. Plasma weapons were largely useless against the Old Lady and the War Faction knew it. Using missiles — probably with bomb-pumped laser warheads — was their only hope of inflicting serious damage on the carrier. And they’d managed to launch the missiles from a dangerously close range. He cursed diplomacy under his breath, then keyed a switch.
“Commander Williams, you are authorised to open fire,” he said. “Take out as many of those missiles as possible.”
He forced himself to watch calmly as Ark Royal’s point defence weapons opened fire. Humanity had improved the system enormously since the start of the war, adding plasma weapons and rail guns to the ancient systems that had once been designed to counter older threats, but he knew the targeting was far from precise. Several of the alien missiles vanished as the point defence picked them off, others fell to the starfighters as they opened fire on the alien ships, yet a handful made it into engagement range and detonated. The ancient carrier rocked violently as bomb-pumped lasers stabbed into her guts.
“Four direct hits,” Janelle reported, as red icons flashed up on the main display. “No serious damage, as far as I can tell, but our armour took a beating.”
Ted winced, feeling his ship’s pain. “Keep engaging the alien ships,” he ordered. Damage control teams were already on their way to the damaged compartments, while the datanet had already adapted to the loss of various communications nodes and other systems destroyed by the blasts, but he knew damage would likely mount up rapidly. “And try to drive the alien ships away from us.”
New red icons flashed into view on the display as the alien ships launched a second salvo of missiles. Ted frowned — the aliens had to know ship-launched missiles were hellishly inefficient — then realised the aliens were playing it carefully, rather than coming close enough to allow Ted to pick them off with his mass drivers. It would be a long drawn-out engagement, but the aliens would hold the upper hand. He turned his attention to the targeting systems as the mass drivers continued firing, sending blasts of scattershot towards the alien ships. One of them was hit and blown apart by the impact, the remainder kept evading the incoming projectiles.
He frowned as the missiles closed in on his ship, then redirected part of the CSP to form the first line of defence. The remainder kept dogfighting with the alien fighters, trying to keep them from returning to their mothership or interfering with the point defence systems. Alien missile after alien missile vanished — there was plenty of time to plot targeting solutions as the missiles had been launched from well outside sprint mode range — but there were too many of them to ensure they were all destroyed. Ted braced himself for a second attack on his ship, then let out a sigh of relief as three of the four missiles that detonated managed to miss their target. Only one beam stabbed into his ship.
“They’ve damaged the starboard flight deck,” Janelle said. “I’m redirecting damage control teams to that sector.”
Ted cursed. The aliens, deliberately or otherwise, had crippled Ark Royal’s ability to recover her fighters. Cycling the starfighters that required replenishment through the ship was going to take time, placing a colossal strain on his operations. And even though the alien starfighters were being beaten back, counterattacking was going to be a major problem.
“Redirect the bombers and two squadrons of escorting fighters,” he ordered. “They are to target and destroy the alien ships.”
He gritted his teeth in frustration. Kurt Schneider should never have died. He would have handled the matter without Ted’s personal intervention. But Commander Labara had to be out there with her ships… Ted cursed under his breath, angrily. If he took up a post at the Admiralty after returning home, if the war came to an end, he was going to make damn sure there would never be another shortage of starfighter pilots.
“Aye, sir,” Janelle said. The carrier shuddered again as one of the alien starfighters accidentally crashed into her hull. “Starfighters are being redirected now.”
Ted let out a long breath. “Target the alien carrier with scattershot,” he ordered. The timing was just about right, assuming the intelligence geeks were correct about just how long the alien fighters could remain active without replenishment. “Then throw two massive barrages at her. Make her run for her life.”
Janelle smiled, darkly. “Aye, sir,” she said. There was a long pause. “Projectiles away.”
The alien formation scattered, their carrier falling back rapidly as she tried to evade. Ted felt a moment of envy — the lighter carrier was far more manoeuvrable than Ark Royal — before dismissing it as stupid. The price paid for the ability to alter course sharply was a near-complete lack of armour. One hit from a mass driver and the alien carrier would be blown into dust. It was why modern carriers had thinned out their armour until it was almost non-existent.
But it made sense until we encountered the aliens, Ted thought, morbidly. Our own attempts to produce plasma weapons failed miserably.