“Scratch one flattop,” Rose said. “I say again, scratch one flattop.”
She paused. “Target the superdreadnaught,” she added. “And the frigates.”
“Understood, Commander,” Henry said. He cursed as he saw one of the frigates the aliens had configured as an anti-starfighter craft hove into view. There was no point in trying to engage her, not when she could put out more plasma firepower than Ark Royal herself. “On my way.”
“Direct hit, lower decks,” Anderson reported. “They targeted the weakened sections of the hull.”
Ted nodded, unsurprised. The aliens had managed to slip at least one missile close enough to detonate — and they’d already had a good idea where to aim. Thankfully, they’d stripped as much as they could out of the damaged section, but the aliens had burned through the armour and damaged other parts of the ship. It wasn’t a good sign.
“Get the damage control parties to work,” he ordered. There would be no time to do anything more than patch up the holes, but it had to be done. “Cover them as best as you can.”
He turned his attention back to the main display, just in time to see the alien carrier become a ball of flaming plasma. Many of her starfighters had survived, but their days were now numbered, unless they could land on the superdreadnaught and replenish there. Ted glanced at the constantly updating reports from the analysts and noted they didn’t seem to have concluded the superdreadnaught could carry fighters. It certainly hadn’t launched them…
So why did they build you? Ted asked, silently. You’re a big target — and you would be dead by now, if we had more projectiles. We didn’t build battleships because we knew they were nothing more than easy victims if the enemy used mass drivers. So what were they thinking when they built you?
“Enemy starfighters are returning to the attack,” Farley reported, breaking into Ted’s thoughts. “Their frigates are following… and launching additional missiles.”
“Clever of them,” Ted said. It was; the missiles could do real damage, thus the point defence had to be retargeted on the incoming missiles. But that gave the starfighters a chance to get close and attack the point defence directly, which would cripple the Old Lady’s chances of responding to further missile attacks. And the network had already lost several cannons to overloading containment chambers. “Target the missiles, then recall our own starfighters. We’re going to need them.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said.
Ted nodded, then surveyed the situation. Any halfway rational foe would be breaking off by now, but the War Faction had burned its bridges when it had defied the other alien factions and tried to restart the war. They had nowhere to go; they had to complete their objective of destroying Earth or die trying. And they also wanted to destroy Ark Royal. If they’d been human, they might have thought of the carrier as lucky, just like so many other ships named Ark Royal throughout the years. They’d throw everything at the carrier in hopes of smashing her, once and for all.
“Alien craft are launching shuttles,” Farley added. “And breeching pods.”
Ted blinked in shock. They’re trying to board us?
“Warn the Marines,” he ordered. They’d already donned their armour, thankfully, but they’d been reassigned to the damage control teams. “Tell them to prepare to repel boarders.”
He looked up at the display. Missiles, starfighters and shuttles were racing towards Ark Royal, forcing him to make some desperate decisions. Which threat had to be handled first?
“The starfighters are to go after the shuttles,” he ordered. “Point defence is to continue to engage the missiles.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said. He paused. “Recommend we set the starfighters as a secondary priority.”
“Do it,” Ted said. If a point defence weapon didn’t have a shot at a missile, it could take a shot at a starfighter. The aliens couldn’t be allowed to realise that the starfighters were no longer primary targets. “And…”
Missiles started to vanish, but two got close enough to detonate, stabbing deep into Ark Royal’s guts. The entire carrier seemed to scream in pain; Ted thought, for one horrified moment, that the compensators had failed completely before rational thought caught up with him . If the compensators had failed, they’d be dead. Red lights flared on the display, showing damage mounting up at terrifying speed…
“We took a major hit,” Anderson said. “Fusion Three is gone; datanet nodes #51 to #78 are gone. I have no links at all to section…”
“Patch it up,” Ted snapped, cutting him off. There was no time for a detailed damage report, not now. The loss of one of the fusion reactors alone was disastrous. “They’re about to land.”
“Marines are being deployed now,” Farley reported. “But the aliens aren’t heading for the gaps in the hull.”
They did that before, Ted recalled. The carrier shuddered as another missile slammed into her hull. This time, the warhead was conventional, which puzzled him. It looked as though the aliens had wasted a hit. A nuke would have been largely deflected by the armour, but it would have inflicted some damage…
His thoughts mocked him as the aliens altered course. It looked as if they were being stupid. And yet he knew they were far from stupid. But it’s the only way in…
He looked up at the display and knew the answer. “They’re planning to land on the hull and take our defences apart,” he said. Why the hell hadn’t they considered it a possibility? “Tell the Marines to get out there, now!”
But he already knew it might be too late.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Major Charles Parnell gritted his teeth as he led the way through the airlock, knowing all too well that the aliens could be waiting in ambush on the far side. He’d never liked hard-entry operations, where there were only one or two angles of attack and the enemy knew it, and this was worse. An injury that could be handled on the ground would be utterly lethal in space. But no one greeted his Marines with fire as they filed out onto the hull. Instead, there was no sign of the enemy.
“Advance carefully,” he ordered. “And watch your backs.”
He shivered as he led the advance forward. Flickers of light danced overhead, like twinkling stars, as the aliens pressed the offensive against the carrier. Bolts of lightning — plasma fire — seemed to flare out from the weapons blisters and vanish into the darkness, while shapes moved high over their heads. He thought, for a second, that he caught sight of something moving, only to realise that it was one of the blisters altering its position. The aliens could be anywhere.
Charles kept a careful eye out for the aliens as they snuck forwards. It had been months since he’d walked on the Old Lady’s hull, during damage control duties. Fighting in space was very different to fighting on the ground; if they accidentally jumped off the hull they would keep going and be lost in space forever. His boots were magnetically linked to the hull, but it wasn’t strong enough to ensure he could never lose touch with the ship. That would have made it impossible to walk.
“Sir,” one of his men hissed. There was no need to whisper, but they kept their voices low out of habit. “I see them.”
Charles followed his pointing finger and saw the aliens, clustering around one of the larger weapons blisters. They wore heavier suits than anything the Marines wore, but it shouldn’t have been surprising. Their environmental requirements were different from humanity’s, after all. He used hand-signals to motion his men forward, then lifted his rifle. The real danger of fighting on the ship’s hull was accidentally inflicting more damage on an already battered starship. But there was no alternative.