Interesting that they chose to build specialised vessels, she thought. Vanguard was heavily weighted in favour of energy weapons, but she could fire salvos of missiles too. I wonder what their designers were thinking.
She pushed the thought aside as they closed rapidly on the alien fleet. “Target the fleet carriers first,” she ordered. Like the Tadpoles, the aliens had stationed their carriers towards the rear of their fleet. “And prepare to rip them apart.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.
“Interesting design,” Charlotte said. “They have quite a bit in common with Ark Royal.”
Prince Henry would love to hear that, Susan thought. Although, if the enemy were more inclined to use energy weapons they probably had good reason to add extra layers of armour to their ships. Human designers had followed the same reasoning. Are they as slow and cumbersome as the Old Lady?
“Weapons locked on target,” Mason said. “Two minutes to optimum firing range.”
Susan braced herself. The enemy had other problems to worry about, but she would be astonished if the fleet managed to get into firing range without being detected. Indeed, even a cursory active sensor sweep would reveal the fleet’s presence. No human commander, particularly one who had studied the Anglo-Indian War, would have risked leaving his rear so unprotected. A starship could sneak into firing range and blow a carrier away ...
Just as we proved in the war games, Susan thought.
“Fire missiles as soon as they detect us,” she ordered. “And engage with plasma cannons the moment we enter firing range. Don't wait for orders.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.
Susan watched the last minute tick down, then the display flared red. “They have us,” Mason snapped. “Firing missiles!”
Vanguard shuddered as she unleashed a full broadside, launching missiles right into the enemy rear. The enemy seemed to flinch - perhaps she was imagining it - as their sensors penetrated the cloaks, their commanders suddenly unsure what to do. Susan had seen simulations where a sudden shock stunned commanding officers, rendering them incapable of reacting ... it was good to know, on some level, that the aliens could be shocked ...
“Increase speed,” she ordered. The best countermove the aliens could make, she thought, would be to scatter, making it harder for Vanguard to do significant damage. “Open fire on the carriers as soon as they enter range.”
“The carriers are launching missiles, many missiles,” Mason reported. “Buckshot countermeasures engaged.”
Very like Ark Royal, Susan thought. She’d seen the original plans, dating back over eighty years. The Admiralty had envisaged Ark Royal as a cross between a fleet carrier and a command ship, but the march of technology had rendered the whole idea impractical. And yet it might no longer be impractical ...
“Buckshot countermeasures seem effective,” Mason added. “The enemy are recalling their starfighters.”
“Pass a message to the Tadpoles,” Susan ordered. The display blossomed with green icons as Roosevelt launched her fighters, then altered course to stay out of the fighting. “Inform them of our arrival, then copy our tactical files to their ships and the fleet base.”
“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.
Susan nodded in relief. Whatever happened, the full story of the ambush and the fleet’s retreat through unexplored space would not be lost. The Admiralty would get the full story, including the sensor recordings and the various post-battle analysis reports. God alone knew what they’d make of it, but at least the story would not be forgotten.
“Entering firing range,” Mason said. “Opening fire ... now.”
Vanguard seemed to shudder, again, as her main guns opened fire, sending pulse after pulse of superheated plasma into the enemy carriers. Susan watched, feeling a cold vindictive glee, as the carriers shuddered under the pounding, one turning to bring its weapons to bear while two more tried to head in opposite directions. And then the first carrier stumbled out of line, venting atmosphere and plasma ...
“She’s trying to come about completely,” Mason reported. “I think she’s hoping to ram us.”
“Launch nuclear missiles,” Susan ordered. It was unlikely the enemy carrier could succeed, but she needed to be certain. “Take her out completely.”
She glanced at the screen as the alien starfighters fell on Vanguard, spitting plasma fire and missiles into her armoured hull. The point defence returned fire, updated fire control programs helping to swat the alien craft out of space. She smiled in relief as the first wave of starfighters retreated, having inflicted almost no damage at the cost of a third of their number blown into dust. But they had picked off a number of point defence weapons ...
“Direct hits,” Mason said. “The carrier is dead.”
Susan glanced at the display, just in time to see a missile lance into a gash in the carrier’s hull and detonate. Her internal armour was nowhere near as tough as Vanguard’s, Susan noted; the first blast set off a chain of explosions that ripped the starship apart. Her companions were trying to escape, but it was too late. Vanguard and her screen unleashed a withering hail of fire that wiped out their point defence, then started to hammer deep into their vital innards. One carrier died in fire, the other lurched right out of formation and went dead ...
“I can finish her,” Mason said. “But there might be no point.”
“Leave her,” Susan agreed. The hulk looked powerless ... and she’d have plenty of warning if the aliens managed to get some of her systems back online. Besides, the chance to actually capture an alien ship was not to be denied. “Detach two probes with orders to keep an eye on her.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.
He sucked in a breath. “The enemy cruisers are turning back to face us,” he added. “They’re locking missiles on our squadron.”
“Stand by point defence,” Susan ordered.
She braced herself, knowing the pause was about to come to an end. The alien starfighters were reforming, half of them running CSP around the remaining two carriers while the other half were angling towards Vanguard. They had to know that Vanguard had very little fighter cover of her own, particularly with the Tadpoles hastily taking advantage of the sudden change in circumstances to rearm and replenish their own starfighters. But even if they hadn't, there had been no opportunity to plan for joint operations, let alone train for them. It would be a minor miracle if they managed to drive the enemy back out of the system.
They’ll still have several possible axis of attack, she thought, remembering the sector starchart. And even if they didn't, the nature of the tramlines means that putting a cork in the bottle would be damn near impossible.
“Tactical analysis thinks the aliens plan to break through our formation,” Mason said. “They may see us as the weaker target.”
They might well be right, Susan thought. Vanguard was the toughest ship in the system, but there had been no chance to resupply any of the ships. The former contact fleet would be in deep trouble if it had to fight a long running battle. We’re running out of missiles and our starfighters are short on supplies. The chance to crush us before we can find resupply is one that shouldn't be wasted.
“Then we’ll just have to show them the error of their ways,” she said. If the enemy ships were kind enough to enter energy weapons range, which they would have to do if they wanted to finish her off, she was more than prepared to hand out a drubbing. “Stand by all weapons.”
The aliens held their fire as they came closer, somewhat to her surprise. They could have started spitting missiles towards her, given their improved range and laser warheads. Were they having supply problems too? Or were they just holding their fire until the chances of scoring a direct hit grew larger? They had to have figured out that their long-range missiles had as many weaknesses as strengths, after the first violent encounter.
“They’re launching probes,” Mason reported. He sounded perplexed. Vanguard and her screen weren’t trying to hide. “They may thin
k we have more ships under cloak.”
Susan scowled. It didn’t make sense. The aliens had to have a good idea of just how many ships had escaped their first ambush. They’d certainly had plenty of time to do a count before the fleet jumped out of the system. And, save for Roosevelt and the escort carriers, every ship that had survived was facing the enemy now.
“Keep a careful eye on them,” she ordered. “Do we have an improved targeting pattern?”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.
“Enemy ships will be within firing range in seventy seconds,” Reed added.
The display sparkled with red light. “Enemy ships have opened fire,” Mason said. “I say again, enemy ships have opened fire.”
Susan swore. There were a lot of missiles heading towards the fleet ...
“Fire as soon as they come into range,” she ordered. No matter what happened, Vanguard was about to get hurt - and a number of smaller ships were about to be blown out of space. “I say again, fire at will.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“They’re opening fire,” Simpson said.
George nodded, grimly. There had been little call for her to do anything in Turret Five, save watching as the bridge crew directed the main guns into pouring wave after wave of fire into a trio of enemy carriers. But watching them die had been ... satisfying, in a dark way. She knew, intellectually, that thousands of aliens had died, yet she found it hard to be sympathetic. The aliens had started the war.
She tensed, despite herself, as the wave of missiles came closer, dozens vanishing from the display as they were picked off by buckshot. It was odd to think that such an inefficient system was capable of taking out enemy missiles, but point defence cannons had a very limited range. And yet the range would have been perfectly satisfactory, against human-designed missiles. She had a nasty feeling that the Admiralty would be ordering extensive research into extending the range of human point defence as soon as they saw the recordings of the first battle.
“Coventry is gone,” someone said. There was a hint of pain in his voice. “They just blew her to hell.”
“Concentrate on your post,” Simpson ordered. “The enemy hasn’t left us alone ...”
Vanguard rocked, violently, as something slammed into the hull. George gritted her teeth, expecting to see consoles exploding into sheets of white fire, but nothing happened. The main guns were still firmly under outside control. She watched, a silent witness, as they turned to bear on their first target, then opened fire. An alien destroyer staggered under the blows, then exploded into a fireball. Another altered course rapidly, trying to escape even as she launched salvo after salvo of missiles towards the giant battleship. But it was far too late ...
“Target destroyed,” George noted. “That’s two destroyers gone.”
“Keep your eye on the display,” Simpson reminded her. “You never know what will happen.”
George nodded, then watched as the next wave of alien starfighters zoomed down on Vanguard, their weapons picking off point defence emplacements with practiced ease. A dozen died in the first pass, but each destroyed emplacement made it easier for the bigger ships to score hits on the battleship’s hull. Their missiles slammed into turrets, trying to burrow into the armour before exploding. It was hard to see just how much damage they were doing, but she was sure they were wearing the armour down.
Peter will be sorry he missed this, she thought. The doctors still hadn't cleared him for active service, despite his protests. The turrets ...
She swore as a dull vibration echoed through the compartments, alarms sounding a moment later. “They struck the control link,” Simpson snapped. “Take direct control of the turret!”
George stared - how the hell had they done that? - and then did as she was told. The turret was undamaged, thankfully - she didn't want to have to escape into space for a second time - but the laser warhead had definitely cut both the primary and secondary control links to the bridge. Given time, the damage control teams would be able to patch up the wound and re-link the turret, yet she doubted they had time. The alien ships were closing in rapidly.
“Searching for targets now,” she said, as the turret began to move under her command. She made a mental note to insist, assuming they survived, that additional control links be fitted to the turret. The Royal Navy hadn't planned for enemies with heavier weapons. “Two cruisers within firing range.”
“Engage,” Simpson ordered.
George tapped the console. A stream of plasma pulses emerged from the main gun and rocketed towards their target. They didn't move at quite the speed of light, she vaguely recalled from her briefing, but nothing larger than a starfighter could have hoped to dodge in time. The enemy starship buckled under the fire, then altered course towards Vanguard, streaming plasma all the while. George swore, then kept firing until the starship finally exploded into a fireball.
“Keep firing,” Simpson said. “Don’t let one of those ships get close enough to ram.”
“Aye, sir,” George said.
***
“They’re pulling the carriers out, while using the smaller ships to keep us busy,” Henry noted. “They clearly don’t consider the carriers expendable.”
“I would hope not,” Lieutenant Felicity Carver said. She hadn't been too keen on allowing Henry to join her in the tactical analysis section, but she’d reluctantly dropped her opposition when he’d made it clear that he knew more about how aliens thought than anyone else on the ship. “It takes us nearly five years to build a carrier.”
Henry nodded. Starfighters were considered expendable - building a starfighter only took a few months, training pilots took only slightly longer if the course was condensed down to the bare essentials - but he doubted anyone could afford to write off even a single carrier without a very good cause. The loss of five fleet carriers in the first battle was going to have nasty repercussions - Admiral Boskone and Admiral Pournelle were probably lucky they’d both died in the ambush - and replacing both the ships and trained personnel would take years.
Anyone who can throw away a fleet carrier for nothing has to be immensely wealthy, he thought, grimly. And so far our new enemies don’t seem to be that free with their money.
He watched, grimly, as the battle continued to unfold. The Tadpoles were launching their reserve starfighters, trying to slice into the enemy rear, while the enemy ships were clearly breaking past Vanguard and her squadron. They were inflicting damage - they’d killed seven starships and wounded Vanguard - but was it enough? Could the enemy afford to write off nearly a hundred ships, just to kill Vanguard and devastate the system?
It depends on just how significant this battle is for them, he reminded himself. Taking the system and destroying the fleet base would secure their lines of advance into Tadpole space, but do they know it?
“They’re brave enough,” Felicity added. “That’s the sixth ship that’s tried to ram.”
“As long as they don’t get close enough to succeed, it doesn’t matter,” Henry said. “Let’s just hope it stays that way.”
***
“Captain, the damage control parties need more time,” the Chief Engineer insisted. “They’re already dangerously exposed as it is!”
“They don’t have time,” Susan snapped back. She cursed the designers and their lack of imagination under her breath. Losing one set of command links was bad enough, but losing two was potentially disastrous. Vanguard could no longer coordinate her fire from the rear turrets. “We need to repair the fire control system before we lose coordination altogether!”
She glared at the status display as another wave of alien starfighters screamed down on Vanguard, despite the Tadpole starfighters in hot pursuit. They couldn't do more than scratch the hull - if that - but they could take out the point defence. And every lost point defence emplacement risked more enemy missiles getting through the defence grid and slamming into the hull.
“We need it now,” she snapped. “Tell them to hurry.”
She closed the connection, then looked at Parkinson. “Ask the Tadpoles to keep pushing at the alien rear,” she ordered. A thought struck her mind and she smiled. “Helm, ramp up the drives and take us straight towards the alien carriers.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.
Susan nodded, grimly. Unless the aliens had really improved their drives, their carriers didn't have a hope in hell of evading Vanguard before it was too late. And the smaller ships wouldn’t be able to stop her from destroying both carriers.
“Try and get a wireless command link into the turrets,” she added. Deprived of the united command and control system, the turrets were engaging targets independently. “Issue verbal orders, if necessary.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said.
Susan cursed the designers - again - under her breath. The concerns about an enemy hacking the wireless command network were valid - command networks had been hacked during the Age of Unrest, sometimes with disastrous results - but she rather doubted the aliens could hack into her ship while she was underway and turn off the weapons. Unless, of course, the aliens had yet another surprise up their sleeves. Vanguard depended on hardwired command networks and the aliens, by accident or by design, had managed to cut them. She’d have to make sure that extra armour was buckled onto the ship during the refit.
Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7) Page 38
