Ark Royal

by Christopher Nuttall

  Kiev vanished from the display. Long seconds passed before she popped back into existence, signalling urgently. There was no alien fleet waiting for them, Ted saw to his relief, but there was a source of radio signals orbiting the G2 star. An alien settlement? There shouldn't be anything human on the other side of the tramline.

  He smiled to himself. No one had explored the tramline, according to the latest records. In hindsight, that had clearly been a disastrous mistake. Who knew what precautions could have been taken if the aliens had been discovered before the first encounter? But now ... One way or another, they were definitely going where no man had gone before.

  “Jump,” he ordered, quietly.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Disappointing, isn't it?”

  Ted had to smile at Fitzwilliam’s judgement. The first alien star system – the first star system humanity had ever discovered belonging to another intelligent race – was disappointing, in one sense. It didn’t look any different from a human-occupied star system. In many ways, it reminded Ted of Vera Cruz, except the alien system was lucky enough to have a gas giant for later mining. But it was an alien world orbiting an alien star and that made all the difference.

  He looked up at the display, watching as the passive sensors sucked in data from across the star system and channelled it down to the analyst section. A number of signal sources – strong signal sources – on the planet itself or in close orbit, a handful of smaller signal sources scattered across the star system and very little else. If it was a forward alien base, Ted decided, feeling an odd hint of disappointment himself, the aliens had been criminally lax about fortifying it. But another part of him was relieved for the very same reason. A fleet of alien battleships would not be a pleasant discovery, not now.

  “Locate the other tramlines,” he ordered. Tramlines were largely predicable, but there were times when reality didn't follow the laws laid down by human theorists. Ted had always been amused by how shocked the scientists sounded when they realised there was something in the universe they hadn't accounted for in their models, no matter how elegant they seemed. “Where do they go?”

  There was a long pause as the passive sensors measured the gravimetric flickers around the local star. “Four tramlines,” Farley said, finally. “One leading back the way we came; two heading further into unexplored space, one dogging back along the edge of human space.”

  Ted found himself seriously considering taking the tramlines that led further into alien territory, then quashed the impulse ruthlessly. “Launch probes towards the alien world,” he ordered, once he was reasonably sure that they weren't about to be attacked by alien starships guarding the tramline. “And then take us towards” – he glanced at the display – “Tramline Two.”

  Fitzwilliam’s voice echoed in his ear. “You don’t mean to engage the planetary defences?”

  “It depends on what kind of defences there are,” Ted replied. “We will just have to wait and see.”

  The thought made him scowl. He couldn't blame Fitzwilliam for wondering; they had, on the face of it, a rare chance to attack an alien-settled world and rock them back on their heels. But the sheer lack of noticeable defences was worrying him. Had the aliens only discovered humanity when they’d stumbled across Vera Cruz and attacked at once? Where they facing the equivalent of a quick-reaction force? If that was true – and he doubted it – what would they face when the enemy actually mobilised?

  Or would they make a deliberate decision not to fortify Alien-One? The thought was odd – in their place, he would certainly have insisted that the sole known point of contact between human and alien was heavily fortified – but perhaps it made a certain kind of sense. We might survey the system before they were ready to meet us.

  He had a sudden mental image of humanity’s territory reaching out further and further, spreading the levels of deployable military forces ever thinner as their responsibilities grew rapidly. Perhaps, sooner or later, their ability to respond to a crisis before it got out of hand would be completely lost. He shook his head, putting the thought aside for later contemplation. Now humanity knew it was no longer alone in the universe, it was unlikely that petty nationalism could be tolerated any longer.

  But we have aliens to hate now, he thought, cynically. There’s no point in hating humans when we have aliens to hate.

  Hours passed slowly as the display continued to fill up with data. There was an asteroid belt in the system, several worlds that could have passed for Mars or Venus ... and one Earth-like world, the source of the radio signals. Analysis indicated that the world rated at least 80% Earth-like; the atmosphere was breathable, the sea water was suitable for fish from Earth ... from afar, it seemed the perfect colony. The drones kept creeping closer, boring their way through space on ballistic courses, sending data back via laser link to the carrier. There was no way – yet – to get pictures of the surface, but the alien orbital facilities were all too clear.

  “It looks like a transhipment hub,” Anderson said. He sounded a little disappointed too, perhaps by the sheer normality of the alien structure. It was a boxy mass that looked too like some of Ark Royal’s contemporaries for comfort. But it was necessary. Humanity’s giant colonist-carriers couldn't land on planetary surfaces; judging by the presence of the station, nor could their alien counterparts. “I don't even think its armed.”

  “We have to be careful,” Fitzwilliam reminded him. “The aliens might have different ideas about arming their settlements against possible attack.”

  Ted couldn't disagree. Now, with alien attack a very real possibility, even the smallest colony worlds were bolting weapons to their orbital stations. Few of them had any real chance of standing off an alien attack, even one carried out by a single starship, but there was no way they would agree to leave themselves defenceless. Just before they’d left Earth for the second time, he’d heard that stocks in companies producing war material had skyrocketed. It almost made him wish he'd taken the time to invest some of his salary in such corporations. God knew he wasn’t doing anything with it.

  He shook his head, studying the display. “Is there anything else in orbit?”

  “A handful of satellites, but nothing else,” the analyst said, firmly. “Unless they have a way to cloak an entire battlestation from our view.”

  He paused, looking down at the live feed from the drones. “Sir,” one of the drones just got into orbit,” he said. “It found a camp on the surface. “I think it’s a POW camp.”

  Ted leaned forward, alarmed. “Show me,” he ordered. “Are you sure?”

  He scowled as the images appeared on the display. The settlement was encircled by solid metal walls, guarded by aliens ... and, inside, there were humans. They wore nothing, but the clothes they were born in; listlessly, they wandered around the camp.

  “Two hundred and forty-seven men, women and children,” the analyst said, with heavy satisfaction. “Source unknown.”

  Fitzwilliam coughed. “Are there any other alien settlements on the planet?”

  “Not as far as we can tell,” the analyst said. He paused. “There is a handful of buildings outside the camp’s walls, but I don't think they’re large enough to be a full-scale settlement.”

  “We’re missing something,” Ted mused. The aliens had installed a transhipment hub; clearly, they'd intended to settle the world. Had they changed their minds when they’d discovered Vera Cruz or were the human observers missing something? “But what?”

  Fitzwilliam spoke rapidly. “Sir,” he said, “we cannot let this opportunity go to waste. This is a rare chance to recover a number of human prisoners from alien hands!”

  “I know,” Ted said, rather more tartly than he intended. “But this could easily be a trap.”

  He looked down at the display, contemplatively. Fitzwilliam was right; this was a rare chance to give the aliens a bloody nose, as well as removing human prisoners from their hands. But if it was a trap ... he looked over at Major Parnell’s image
on the display, quirking his eyebrows. The Major nodded, accepting the challenge.

  “Very well,” Ted said. “We will act to recover the prisoners.”

  It took nearly thirty minutes to draw up a plan of attack. On the face of it, destroying the alien transhipment hub and the handful of satellites would be easy, but if the aliens had intended to make it hard for the humans to recover the POWs it would be very tricky. His imagination provided a dozen possibilities, all based on human history. There could be a nuke buried under the POW camp, the prisoners could all have been forcibly addicted to something only the aliens could produce ... or they could simply have been brainwashed into servitude. Even if Ted and his crew did manage to get them all home, they might never be trusted again.

  “Hostage rescue is always a pain,” Parnell had said. The Marine had sounded as enthusiastic as ever, but there had been an undertone of worry in his voice that bothered Ted. “The hostages have to be treated with great suspicion, because they might have bonded with their captors.”

  It seemed absurd, Ted considered, for anyone to bond with the aliens. But after their images had been released, there had been humans extolling the virtues in their noble bodies ... or something like that. Ted hadn't been paying close attention to the lunatic fringe. But, if someone felt completely cut off from Earth and the rest of the human community, could they be seduced by the aliens? It was a definite possibility.

  “Take us into attack position,” he ordered. The closer they sneaked to Alien-One, the greater the chance of detection. He’d been tempted to snipe at the alien transhipment hub from a distance, just like they’d done at New Russia, but there was too great a chance of a projectile missing its target and striking the planet instead. “Is the fleet ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” Farley said. He nodded towards one of the monitors, tracking the location and status of every ship in the flotilla. “The fleet is standing by.”

  “Good,” Ted said. He smiled, inwardly. As tiny as the alien settlement was – although he couldn't escape the feeling they were missing something – it was still the first alien world to be attacked by human forces. Ark Royal and her crew would go down in the history books ... absently, he wondered just who would be writing the histories of the war. Humans ... or the aliens? “Launch the first spread of unpowered missiles.”

  He settled back in his chair as the flight of blue icons darted out from the icons representing Ark Royal and headed towards their target. Unpowered as they were, not even Ark Royal could track them, but as long as they kept their drives deactivated they would follow a strictly predicable ballistic course. Long minutes ticked away until the missiles finally entered attack range and went active, bringing up their drives and lancing towards the alien station. There was a brief flurry of activity as the aliens realised the danger, too late. The missiles slammed home, blasting the space station into flaming debris. Ted watched, emotionlessly, as the debris started to de-orbit and fall towards the planet below.

  Too much firepower, he thought, ruefully. If they’d realised the alien point defence would have been so pitiful, he could have saved a handful of missiles. But at least we killed it.

  “Target destroyed,” Farley reported, with heavy satisfaction. “I say again, target destroyed.”

  “There's nothing large enough to pose a threat to the ecosystem,” one of the analysts added. “The pieces of junk should all burn up in the planetary atmosphere.”

  Ted kept his thoughts to himself. It was quite possible that there had been human POWs on the station, humans who had been killed without ever knowing what had hit them. There had been no choice, he told himself; the station had to be destroyed as quickly as possible. But he would never know for sure if humans had died because of him. The thought would torment him for the rest of his life.

  “Launch starfighters,” he ordered. “I want orbital space swept clean.”

  ***

  Kurt put thoughts of Rose out of his mind as the starfighter lurched forward and crashed out into interplanetary space at a colossal speed. Ahead of him, Alien-One glowed in the inky darkness of space, surrounded by unblinking stars that seemed to gaze pitilessly at the tiny humans infesting their domain. He shivered, helplessly, as he looked back at them. Most humans, even starship crewmen, didn't really comprehend the true vastness of space. He and his fellow pilots, however, knew it all too well. They were utterly insignificant on such a scale.

  Bracing himself, he took the shuttle down towards planetary orbit, wishing – again – that the designers had solved the problem of crafting a starfighter that functioned equally well in space as on the ground. There were humans down there, according to the announcement, humans who had been taken prisoner by the aliens. He wanted to get down to the surface and tear into the alien defenders, pulling the prisoners out before they died in alien hands. But his craft couldn't hope to survive a trip through the atmosphere ...

  An alien satellite loomed up ahead of him. The computers engaged it automatically, blowing it apart before it could do anything threatening. Tiny pieces of debris fell towards the planet’s atmosphere as Kurt led the rest of the squadron forward, searching for other alien satellites. None of the satellites seemed anything other than civilian designs – not too different from anything human – but Kurt knew just how easy it was to hide a weapon in space. They didn't even dare risk trying to take one of the satellites intact.

  “Space is clear, sir,” he reported, finally.

  Despite himself, Kurt was almost disappointed. If he’d taken prisoners from an alien race, he would have made damn sure they were held somewhere that was heavily defended. But the aliens, for whatever reasons of their own, clearly disagreed with his logic. Maybe they’d assumed that humanity wouldn't bother to try to recover POWs. Or maybe they just hadn't had the shipping to move them further into their territory.

  “Very clear,” Rose agreed. As always, hearing her voice while they were on duty provoked a multitude of contradictory responses in his mind. It had been much easier before they'd become lovers ... now, he was in danger of obsessing over her. But, at the same time, he found it more than a little irritating. “Even the debris is falling rapidly.”

  Kurt nodded. Earth had always had nightmares about a settled asteroid or a massive space station falling out of orbit, even if it shattered into countless pieces first. Adding that much junk to the planet's ecosystem couldn't possibly be healthy. But the alien world wouldn't be badly affected by the relatively small amount of debris ... and besides, it was an alien world, not a human colony. The aliens could take care of themselves.

  “Return to CSP positions,” he ordered. Ark Royal was holding position some distance from the planet, making it easier to run for the tramline if necessary. A handful of frigates, however, were moving into orbit, ready to provide fire support if the Marines needed it. “And keep your eyes peeled. These bastards have very good stealth, remember?”

  ***

  “Space is clear, sir,” Farley reported. “No sign of any ground-based defences.”

  Ted wasn’t too surprised. Ground-based defences were expensive and unreliable ... although, with their technology, the aliens could probably create something more capable than humanity had been able to produce. But Alien-One was clearly nothing more than a tiny settlement and a POW camp, perhaps a clearinghouse for the aliens to use to sort through their prisoners and work out who they wanted to interrogate more carefully. Or perhaps they just wanted to put the POWs out of the way and forget about them.

  He shook his head. The aliens had gone to too much effort to gather the POWs merely to leave them alone. Perhaps, once the POWs were recovered, they could shed light on how they’d been treated – and why. Or perhaps they'd be as ignorant as their fellow humans.

  There was a bleep from the tactical console. “Wait,” Farley said. “One large ground-based transmitted, several hundred miles from the POW camp. It’s broadcasting out into space.”

  Ted didn’t hesitate. “Kill it,” he ordered. Tha
t far from the POW camp there would be no risk of hurting the prisoners. “Can you identify the intended destination?”

  Farley shook his head. “The signal was beamed towards Tramline Four,” he said. “But I don't know what – if anything – actually heard it.”

  They won't have heard it yet, Ted thought. Tramline Four – leading further into alien-controlled space - was five light minutes from the planet. But even though the transmission had been terminated, there was no stopping the first signal burst from reaching its destination. There must be a ship there, lying doggo. They’ll bring help from the next system.

  Farley looked up. “The transmitter is dead, sir,” he said. On the display, a fireball was rising from where the frigate-launched KEW had struck the transmitter. “But I still don't know where it was aimed.”

  “Launch a pair of additional drones towards Tramline Four,” Ted ordered. “If there are reinforcements within shouting distance, they’ll have to come from there.”

  He tried to work it out in his head, then gave up as he realised there just wasn't enough data to make even educated guesses. What was on the other end of Tramline Four? If there was an alien fleet in the system, how long would it take them to power up and advanced to Alien-One? Long enough to get the POWs off the surface ... or quickly enough to force Ted to abandon some of them on the ground.