“Or they refitted a design they already had,” he mused. He dismissed the thought a moment later. “How many ships are we looking at?”
“Twenty-two,” Farley said. “Fourteen frigates, two cruisers, three carriers, one battlecruiser and one monster…”
“Designate her as the Monster class,” Ted ordered, calmly. It was a formidable force, easily enough to break through Earth’s defences and launch stealth missiles into the planet’s atmosphere. And, facing carriers that were lightly armoured, they might even cripple humanity’s remaining fleets beyond repair. “Time to intercept.”
“They’re moving along the projected course, at speed,” Farley said. “They’ll enter engagement range in fifty-seven minutes.”
Ted smiled, then walked over to his chair and sat down. “Continue feeding targeting data to the sensors,” he ordered. “The principle target are the carriers, not the superdreadnaught. I want them smashed as soon as we open fire.”
Commander Williams gave him an odd look. “You don’t want to target the superdreadnaught?”
“No,” Ted said. He hesitated, then explained. “The superdreadnaught doesn’t carry any starfighters, I assume. Without starfighters, she will be vulnerable to volley-fire from Earth’s defences, even if she smashes us into pulp. Even if her armour is as tough as ours, Commander, she will be vulnerable.”
He studied the display for a long moment. The aliens might be in a hurry, but they weren’t being too trusting. They had a CSP fanning out ahead of them, probing for trouble. It was quite likely they’d stumble across the waiting ambush before it was too late to save their fleet from instant annihilation.
“Take aim,” he ordered. “If they stumble across us, fire without waiting for orders.”
Farley swallowed, nervously “Aye, sir,” he said. “Weapons locked on target.”
Ted understood. A twitch on Farley’s part could start the battle early, sacrificing the advantage they’d risked everything to build. He understood far too well.
He keyed his console as the alien fleet grew closer, opening a channel to the entire ship. “All hands, this is the Admiral,” he said. “We are about to engage the enemy one final time. If we win, the war comes to an end. If we lose, the aliens will push past us and attack our homeworld. On us rests the fate of Earth — and all of humanity.”
There was a pause as he struggled for words, then fell back on the classics.
“Britain expects that every man will do his duty,” he said.
He closed the channel. On the display, the alien ships were drawing closer and closer, their starfighters fanning out ahead of them. It wouldn’t be long before they stumbled across the ambush and then all hell would break loose. But it had been long enough.
“Fire,” he ordered.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Projectiles away, sir,” Farley said.
“Launch starfighters,” Ted snapped. On the display, the alien carriers were starting to launch their own starfighters, despite being caught by surprise. “Launch missiles!”
Ark Royal shivered again as she launched her first barrage of missiles. Ted had few illusions — only a handful of them would survive long enough to detonate — but one or two direct hits would finish any alien starship, apart from the enigmatic superdreadnaught. The craft was heavily armoured, of that he was sure. It simply didn’t seem to have the speed of any of the other alien craft.
“Starfighters launched, sir,” Farley reported. He swore, barely loudly enough for Ted to hear. “Enemy ships are launching missiles of their own.”
They must have the reactions of a Marine, Ted thought, with cold amusement. They didn’t know we were waiting in ambush, but they still had their starfighters ready to launch at a moment’s notice.
“Direct hit,” Farley reported. “One of the alien carriers is gone, sir.”
Ted nodded. On the display, one of the alien carriers had been shattered into debris by a direct hit. Another was dodging mass drive projectiles, but even its drive was unable to alter course radically enough to save it completely. A direct hit to the rear section smashed its drives and left it completely helpless. Ted was marginally impressed that the remainder of the starship remained intact, despite the damage. A final projectile slammed into the hulk and completed its destruction.
“Target destroyed, sir,” Farley reported. There was a hint of heavy satisfaction in his voice. “Their starfighters are motherless now.”
“Continue firing,” Ted ordered. The mass drivers were running out of ammunition at terrifying speed. There simply hadn’t been time to find a suitable asteroid in the New Russia system and reload. “Target the remaining carrier and the superdreadnaught. Destroy them both.”
The smaller alien ships picked up speed, advancing towards the Old Lady as they fired missiles towards the flotilla. Ted watched numbly as hundreds of missiles closed in on his ships, most of them picked off by the point defence or the CSP. But the priority — protecting Ark Royal — had a cost. Four missiles engaged HMS Blackburn and blew the escort carrier into flaming debris.
“Blackburn is gone,” Farley reported. “No lifepods detected.”
Ted nodded. He’d mourn later.
“Continue firing,” he ordered. “Move Wart Hog into position to provide covering fire.”
He scowled, inwardly. The attack on Earth had been gravely weakened by the loss of the carriers, but the aliens could still break through and use a frigate to attack the planet with a radioactive warhead. It was the old nightmare of terrorism on a planetary scale, one that had only grown worse as humanity expanded further into space. They’d hoped the aliens could be deterred from attacks aimed at genocide, but it was unlikely the War Faction gave a damn about their own people. All they wanted was the destruction of the human race.
“Alien starfighters are closing in,” Farley reported. “Our own starfighters are moving to cover us.”
“Stand by point defence,” Ted ordered. “Warn the CSP not to come within plasma range.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said.
Henry wanted to cheer as two of the alien carriers died in quick succession, but there was no time. The bastards had managed to launch their starfighters quicker than the Old Lady could match, putting over two hundred starfighters into space before they’d been smashed by the mass drivers. Some of the alien craft would have to be pushed back into space, Henry was sure, because their remaining carrier wouldn’t have space for them all. But it wouldn’t matter.
“Prepare to engage,” Rose said. She sounded firmer, much to his relief. “Remember; we have to kill at least four apiece.”
She makes it sound easy, Henry thought. He was relieved, more than he cared to admit, that Janelle had been sent back to Earth. The aliens had them badly outnumbered, even though they’d lost their carriers. There was a very strong possibility that none of the human starfighter pilots would survive this day. But what else can we do?
The alien starfighters flashed into range, firing madly the moment they had clear shots at the human craft. Henry jinked his starfighter to one side, then fired back, selecting automatic and allowing his targeting systems to do the firing for him as he concentrated on evading incoming fire. Space filled with plasma bolts as both sides converged, the aliens trying to blow their way through the human formation. But the CSP had a plan.