But perhaps there was method in the alien commander’s madness. His ship was intact, no matter how many missiles Ted threw at it. Her designers seemed to have placed a great deal of effort into protecting the ship and Ted had to admit, reluctantly, that they had done a very good job. The ship was almost as tough as Ark Royal, perhaps more so. They’d created a war machine intended to take the war to Earth…
Maybe they didn’t have it planned before they encountered us for the first time, Ted thought, sourly. The bastard is practically designed to face Ark Royal.
His ship shuddered as another alien missile slammed into the hull, thankfully striking a piece of intact armour. If it had gone into the hull before detonating… Ted didn’t want to think about what would have happened if it had. And the alien starfighters were regrouping…
“Prince Henry has taken command of the starfighters,” Farley said. “They’re preparing to defend the ship.”
Ted nodded. It was futile now, he knew. There was no way any of the starfighters could be recovered and replenished under enemy fire. Prince Henry and his remaining pilots would die in space, alone. They’d create a new legend, he was sure, but they would die. He remembered how some of the PR staff had tried to make a legend out of the Prince’s first reported death and shuddered, again. The Monarchy would probably benefit from Prince Henry’s death.
“Understood,” he said. There was nothing he could do now, but keep fighting. If the enemy commander wanted a close-range engagement, Ted would give it to him. “Helm, point us right at the enemy superdreadnaught.”
“Aye, sir,” Lightbridge said.
The carrier shook, yet again.
“Damage to rear sectors,” Anderson reported, though the intercom. “We’ve lost rear sensors and point defence. Long-range communications are down.”
Ted cursed. The communications didn’t matter — there was no one to talk to — but losing the sensors and weapons was disastrous. Once the aliens realised what they’d done, they’d target their missiles through the blind zone and rip the carrier to shreds.
“Take us right towards them,” he ordered. If the alien superdreadnaught had one disadvantage, it was that she was almost as cumbersome as Ark Royal. “Reroute all spare power to the drives, even life support. I want everything you can give me.”
“Aye, sir,” Anderson said.
Ted sucked in a breath. “Gentlemen, it’s been a honour,” he said. “Ramming speed.”
“Aye, sir,” Lightbridge said.
James shuddered, then vomited into a plastic bag as HMS Formidable crashed through the tramline and entered the New Russia system. He wasn’t the only one in the CIC to lose his lunch, despite having made two more high-speed transits over the last four days. Angrily, he spat into the bag, then dumped it into the recycler and fixed his gaze on the display. It was far too clear that there was already a battle being fought within the system.
He gritted his teeth against the ache in his chest, then straightened up. His uncle and everyone else had advised him not to join the relief force, let alone take command, but he’d insisted. The doctors had stabilised his condition, yet they’d also warned him there would be pain. They’d been right.
But he was damned if he was leaving the Admiral to fight alone for any longer than necessary.
“Launch probes,” he ordered, as the passive sensors fought to make sense out of what they were picking up. “And transmit a general signal. Inform Admiral Smith that we are on our way.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Benton said.
James nodded. It had taken two days of arguing, pleading and outright blackmail to convince the other interstellar powers to join the relief mission. HMS Formidable had been joined by the Russian Kirov and the American George Bush, as well as a dozen smaller ships. Putting together the mission had been a political nightmare. The Russian commander had strict orders to cooperate, but as he hadn’t been told anything about the bioweapon it was clear he thought he was supposed to be obstructionist. And the Americans hadn’t been much better.
If we manage to survive this war, James thought, we’ll build up the navy to the point we won’t ever need to think about coalition operations again.
He stared in horror as the display rapidly filled with data. The flotilla was almost gone, save for Ark Royal and a single frigate. It was clear the carrier had taken one hell of a battering… and was heading towards the massive alien ship, preparing to ram. James couldn’t imagine anything standing up to a direct impact from the carrier, no matter how much armour the aliens had bolted onto their ship. But it would almost certainly destroy the Old Lady too…
“Take us towards them, maximum speed,” he ordered. “Communications, raise Admiral Smith!”
“No response, sir,” Benton said. “I’m not even picking up her IFF. She may have lost communications completely…”
“Then extend the signal,” James snapped. On the display, the final frigate’s icon winked out of existence. “Contact the starfighters, get them to pass on the message…”
But he already knew it was too late.
For a long moment, the battle seemed to come to a halt as the two massive starships advanced towards each other, neither one able or willing to change course. Henry stared in disbelief as the Old Lady inched forward, aiming directly at the alien superdreadnaught. The alien pilots seemed equally stunned, equally unsure what to do. Henry fought for words, for orders, for… something, but nothing came to mind. The collision had become inevitable.
“No,” he said, as the alien superdreadnaught opened fire. Plasma bolts rained down on Ark Royal… and glanced harmlessly off her armour. They’d already crippled her point defence and sensor blisters; no matter how badly they hammered the hull, they simply didn’t have the firepower to break through and destroy the ship before it was too late. “No…”
He swore as a new communication icon popped up in front of him. HMS Formidable, it stated. For a moment, he thought it was an alien trick; HMS Formidable had died at New Russia. But then he remembered the new carriers, the ones that had been on the verge of entering service, and glanced at his rear sensors. Three new carriers had come through the tramline, a wave of starfighters sweeping out in front of them. But he already knew it was too late.
“Fall back on Formidable,” he ordered. His pilots were alarmingly close to running out of life support. “And remember this day.”
Ted clutched his command chair as the aliens finally brought their heavy plasma weapons to bear on Ark Royal. Damage started to mount up rapidly, but the carrier’s armour could handle most of the blasts, deflecting them from her innards. Not, in the end, that it mattered.
You did well, he told himself, silently. His career had stalled after he’d turned to drink — and even the love he’d developed for the Old Lady hadn’t kept him out of the bottle. It was only the prospect of actually fighting a war that had caused him to abandon his alcohol, flushing it down the toilet rather than taking the risk of storing it. And you wouldn’t have been suited for a desk job anyway.