Ark Royal

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “That isn't our concern,” he said, finally. “Unless anyone has any strong objections, I intend to inform the Admiralty that Ark Royal will be ready for deployment at the end of the week.”

  No one objected, although he saw a handful of concerned expressions. He couldn't really blame them. Ark Royal had been sitting in the reserves for so long that she might well have problems that wouldn't become apparent until she was fully powered up. But the sooner they found out, the sooner such problems could be overcome.

  Farley smiled. “Has there been any word on deployments?”

  “Nothing so far,” Ted said. “We may be assigned to the unified defence fleet — or we may find ourselves assigned to serve as an independent raider and head behind enemy lines.”

  “That would be interesting,” Fitzwilliam observed. “But we don’t know where to go.”

  “We’ll find out,” Ted assured him. “The scouts are already searching for enemy territory.”

  He looked back at the starchart. Assuming that humanity’s sphere of expansion had brushed against alien territory — and assuming that the aliens had similar requirements to humanity — there were several dozen G2 stars that might possess alien-settled worlds. The scouts would still take months to sort through them, hunting for potential targets. And some of them might not come back.

  If they don’t, he told himself, we would know where to look.

  “We’ll do a full power-up tomorrow,” he said, as he rose to his feet. “And then we will know where we stand.”

  * * *

  The sound of the intercom woke him from a fitful sleep.

  “Captain,” Midshipwoman Lopez said, “we have picked up an emergency signal from the Admiralty. You and Commander Fitzwilliam are to report to Nelson Base at once.”

  Ted groaned, then reached for his chronometer. It was 0423 and he’d slept for less than five hours, after watching the final preparations for power-up in engineering. Even if he wasn't drinking, he wasn't sleeping very well. No doubt he was having too many fears about taking his ship into combat for the first time.

  “Inform the Commander that I’ll meet him in the shuttlebay,” he ordered, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “Did they give any explanation?”

  “No, sir,” Midshipwoman Lopez said. “Just an emergency call.”

  Ted groaned, then fumbled through his desk drawers for a stimulant, which he swallowed before getting dressed. An emergency call was never good news, even though the last time he’d visited Nelson Base he’d managed to keep command of his ship. He eyed the bottles of rotgut with interest, then picked up the bottle of water and took a long swig. Once he was refreshed, he made his way to the shuttlebay. Commander Fitzwilliam was already there, looking disgustingly well-presented. Ted nodded to him, then led the way into the shuttlecraft. The pilot was already powering up the drive.

  He said nothing to Fitzwilliam as the shuttle headed out of the shuttlebay and directly towards Nelson Base. Orbital activity didn't seem to have reached any higher a tempo than it had once the first warnings had reached Earth, but he couldn't help noticing that Ark Royal wasn't the only starship sending shuttles to the naval base. In fact, almost every ship was sending shuttles to its respective headquarters. Something had clearly gone very wrong, he decided, feeling a chill settling around his spine. Had the aliens attacked again?

  They were greeted by a party of Royal Marines, who checked their ID implants and then pointed the two newcomers into a large briefing chamber. Dozens of other commanding officers — and a handful of subordinates — were filling into the chamber, all looking equally bemused. Ted nodded to a couple of commanders he knew, then found a seat near the stand and sat down. Fitzwilliam sat down next to him.

  The First Space Lord entered a moment later and took the stand. He looked more than just tired, Ted noted; he looked badly shocked. Something had definitely gone badly wrong… he leaned forward as a Commodore called the room to attention, then dismissed the formalities with almost indecent speed.

  “Four hours ago, a courier boat arrived from New Russia,” the First Space Lord said, without preamble. “The system has fallen to the enemy.”

  It took a long moment for his words to sink in. Everyone knew just how many starships had been assigned to New Russia, along with the planet’s not-inconsiderable orbital and planetary defences. The Russian government had always taken a progressive view of building up their defences, if only to ensure that the new Russian homeland remained untouched and untouchable. There were few worlds with more fixed defences…

  “Analysts are working on the recordings now,” the First Space Lord continued. “However, it is with a heavy heart that I must confirm the destruction of the unified defence force, including HMS Invincible and Formidable.”

  This time, shock swept around the compartment like a physical thing. Invincible and Formidable were — had been — the two most modern carriers in the Royal Navy. They’d both carried the most capable fighter units in the fleet, while their crews had been counted among the elite. And now they were gone.

  “As of now, we must assume that New Russia is under occupation,” the First Space Lord said. “Furthermore, the political unity of humanity has been badly dented.”

  Ted swallowed. There had been twelve carriers at New Russia; six Russian, three American, two British and one French. Between them, the smaller ships and the fixed defences, there had been almost a million naval personal assigned to the system. The recriminations would start soon, if they hadn’t begun already. Humanity’s unity could be lost before it had ever really been established.

  “The Russians only had nine carriers,” Fitzwilliam said, softly. “Losing six of them is going to hurt.”

  It would do more than that, Ted knew. The Russians had believed, perhaps rightly, that it was better to have a handful of carriers but place most of their resources into smaller ships. Right now, though, those smaller ships would be badly outmatched by the aliens. There was little hope of recovering New Russia.

  He scowled, thinking through the implications. Humanity had lost the industrial base the Russians had built up over seventy years, along with losing control of gravitational tramlines leading further into human space. The aliens could jump out towards Earth, if they were so inclined, or they could alter course and pick off a number of smaller colony worlds before bringing the war to an end. There were just too many targets to be defended adequately.

  If there is such a thing, he told himself, bitterly. There had been twelve carriers at New Russia… and the aliens had taken them apart. God alone knew how much damage the aliens had taken, but he couldn't help feeling that it was very limited. And, even if humanity had taken out twelve alien carriers in exchange for the human ships, no one knew how big a dent that was in alien capabilities. They might have a thousand carriers on their way to human space.

  Fitzwilliam nudged him. The First Space Lord had yielded the podium to a tired-looking analyst. For once, almost every officer seemed to be paying attention, even though the officer was only a lieutenant — and not even a line officer. But they all needed to know what had happened at New Russia.

  “We have only preliminary results,” the analyst said. “However, they suggest that the aliens are dangerously advanced over us. In particular, their weapons and drives seem to be vastly superior.”

  Ted sat up, feeling cold. Ark Royal had been the most advanced starship of her time, but she couldn't hope to beat a modern carrier in a long-range engagement. Even a handful of such carriers would have problems winning against a more advanced foe. The original warships launched by the Royal Navy would have been rapidly wiped out by the modern ships, no matter how numerous they were. If the aliens were advanced enough, there was no amount of blood sweat and tears that would make up the difference.

  “Alien fighters seem to be roughly equal to ours in terms of drives,” the analyst said. “However, they posses both stealth systems and advanced energy weapons capable of seriously damag
ing a starship’s hull. Our best guess is that they are actually modified plasma cannons, which suggests that the aliens have actually overcome the containment field problems that bedevil human researchers. An alternative is that the weapons actually induce limited fission in their targets.”

  Ted winced. Humanity’s plasma cannons had a nasty habit of overheating and exploding, which was why they were rarely deployed by the military. But if the aliens had cracked that problem, somehow, it would give them a decisive advantage. For one, all of their starfighters would pack the punch of a torpedo-bomber. They’d have genuine duel-role starfighters.

  “They also managed to get much closer to our carriers without being detected than we believed possible,” the analyst added. “Indeed, our first thought was that the alien starfighters had managed to make an in-system FTL jump. If we hadn't been so convinced that was impossible, we might not have realised that they merely remained hidden until they were very close to our ships. We are currently looking for ways to break their stealth systems, but so far we have come up with nothing.

  “Worse, it seems likely that they have a better FTL system than ourselves,” he concluded. He pointed to a starchart, then focused it on the New Russia system. “Their appearance within the system didn't correspond to any known tramline. It seems that they jumped from a star we would consider outside normal tramline range. This suggests that our strategic maps of human space may be badly outdated.”

  Ted exchanged a long look with Fitzwilliam as the information sank in. Normally, the tramlines rarely stretched past five light years. It still took time to move from system to system… but if the aliens had access to weaker tramlines, they might well be able to evade the human defences and outmanoeuvre the human starships. It could give them a potentially decisive advantage.

  To add to the other ones they have, he thought, grimly. They’d been wrong; the aliens hadn't been reluctant to attack further, they’d just waited until humanity had offered them a tempting target. And then they’d attacked, wiping out a colossal force and shattering humanity’s unity. The loss of New Russia alone was a serious blow.

  “We have prepared recordings of the battle for you,” the First Space Lord said. “I advise you to watch carefully, as the recordings will not be released until the PM has addressed the nation.”

  “Good idea,” Fitzwilliam muttered. “There will be panic if this gets out.”

  Ted didn't bother to disagree. Everyone knew that carriers were the most powerful starships in existence. Losing one alone would be a disaster, losing twelve… even if only two of them had been British, would seem catastrophic. And, if the aliens really did have a decisive technological advantage, it might not be long before Earth itself was targeted.

  He leaned forward as the main display lit up, showing the New Russia system as a tactical display. The alien fleet — fifteen carrier-sized starships, forty smaller craft — jumped into the system, well away from any known tramline. Ted wondered, absently, if the aliens were actually trying to trick the human analysts. They had enough stealth technology to hide their fleet until the moment they chose to show themselves. Why not try to intimidate humanity into surrender?

  But those plasma weapons weren't illusions, he thought, numbly. They were real.

  Humanity’s fleet assembled, blocking the alien advance. Messages were sent, offering talks… only to be ignored. Humanity’s starfighters had advanced forward, ready to engage the enemy… until the moment the enemy starfighters had appeared, between the human starfighters and their carriers. They had to have passed through the swarm of human fighters, completely undetected. Ignoring the suddenly frantic starfighters, the aliens threw themselves at the human carriers. Powerful blasts of plasma fire tore into their hulls, burning through flimsy armour and wrecking havoc inside the ships. One by one, humanity’s ships were rapidly torn apart.

  The battle wasn't completely one sided, he noted. Human weapons could and did kill enemy fighters, but there were just too many of them. The humans were overwhelmed and destroyed before they could reorganised their formation, allowing the alien starships to advance forward to engage New Russia itself. And then the recording came to an end.

  “We will be rethinking our plans in light of this development,” the First Space Lord said, with admirable understatement. “I don't think I need to explain just how serious this situation is, do I?”

  No one disagreed.

  Ted stared down at his hands, wondering briefly why he hadn't taken early retirement. It wasn't as if the navy wanted to keep him. And he could have been on the ground, instead of standing on the command deck of a carrier. But the navy was his life. And he knew his duty.

  I volunteered to place myself between Britain and war, he reminded himself. And yet he’d never really faced the prospect of his own death in wartime. Accidents had accounted for more naval deaths over the past decades than enemy action. I don’t get to back out because it might have become dangerous.

  “Dismissed, gentlemen,” the First Space Lord said. “Captain Smith, if you and Commander Fitzwilliam will remain behind…”

  “Yes, sir,” Ted said.

  He waited until the massive compartment was almost empty, then followed the First Space Lord through a guarded airlock into a tactical planning centre. A handful of analysts were seated at terminals, working their way through the data from New Russia. He looked at one of the screens and saw an alien carrier, a fragile-looking craft. But they hadn't needed heavy armour to rip New Russia’s defences apart.

  “Take a seat,” the First Space Lord ordered. “We have a mission for you.”

  Chapter Seven

  “A mission,” Ted repeated. “What do you want us to do?”

  “The important detail, I think, is that the modern carriers simply lacked the armour to stand up to alien weapons,” the First Space Lord said. “That, combined with their stealth systems, gave them a definite advantage over the united fleet, allowing them to tear us apart.”

  His voice was curiously flat. Ted realised, not entirely to his surprise, that the First Space Lord was too tired to really feel the deaths… and grasp the full magnitude of what it meant for the war. If humanity’s unarmoured ships were easy prey for alien fighters, the war was within shouting distance of being lost along with the carriers. Once the carriers were gone, humanity wouldn't even be able to continue the war.

  Understanding clicked. “Ark Royal might be able to stand up to them,” he said. He found himself fighting to hold back the urge to giggle in a decidedly-unmilitary manner. “We still have our armour.”

  “Indeed,” the First Space Lord agreed. “Ark Royal might be able to survive where more modern carriers would have real problems.”

  He tapped a switch, activating the star chart. “We are still studying the records, of course, but it seems to me that the aliens managed to jump over nine light years to New Russia, judging by their appearance. If this is the case, they have a major advantage over us. In particular, they will be able to avoid all of our blocking forces and reach Earth directly.”

  Ted nodded. Earth possessed over seventy percent of humanity’s industrial base, population and fixed defences. It wouldn't go down easily, but if Sol were to be lost the human race might as well set off and try to escape in a ragtag fleet of starships, hoping they could evade the enemy long enough to rebuild and return to restart the war. But the odds would be against a successful escape.

  “I believe that the aliens will attempt to jump here” — the First Space Lord tapped another star — “and use it as a waypoint on their road to Earth. There’s nothing there, apart from a handful of tiny mining stations and independent settlements. The aliens will have no trouble destroying them — or simply ignoring the settlers completely. I want Ark Royal in position to intercept the enemy fleet.”

  “And then… what?” Ted asked. “We would be massively outgunned.”

  “Delay them, force them back on their heels,” the First Space Lord said, grimly. “Their carriers don�
��t appear to be any stronger than ours — and you have mass drivers and other projectile weapons. I intend to attach a squadron of missile frigates too, once they’re worked up and ready for deployment. If you can give them a bloody nose…”

  Ted saw the logic, even though it still seemed chancy. It might well be a suicide mission, yet he could understand why the First Space Lord would want to keep the fighting as far from Earth as possible. Between the political shockwaves and the panic that was likely to result, once the news finally broke, Earth would be in no state to defend itself.

  Commander Fitzwilliam studied the map for a long moment. “What happened to New Russia?”

  “We don’t know,” the First Space Lord confessed. “But we’re not optimistic.”

  “They might have wiped out most of the population,” Ted said, softly. New Russia wasn't anything like as developed as Earth, but it would still be easy for the aliens to wipe out the settlements from orbit. “Or they might have destroyed the orbital defences and moved onwards.”

  “We don’t know,” the First Space Lord repeated.

  He looked up, meeting Smith’s eyes. “I confess I had my doubts about Ark Royal,” he admitted, keeping his voice so quiet that Smith had to strain to hear him. “The ship seemed a waste of resources, nothing more than a dumping ground for crew we couldn't be bothered to sack. Now… she might be our salvation.”

  Ted swallowed. Ark Royal was effectively unique, the only carrier with such heavy armour — let alone primitive weapons. It would take years to modify the yards to produce new armoured ships, unless the boffins came up with a new form of ablative armour that could be rapidly applied to the modern carriers. If Ark Royal were to be lost… but there was no alternative, at least as far as he could see. The carrier was the only effective weapon humanity had.