He gritted his teeth as a pair of American helicopters flew overhead, unleashing missiles towards the alien vehicles. The aliens returned fire, trying to swat both the missiles and the helicopters out of the air; Charles bit down another swearword as one of the helicopters exploded in midair, while the other staggered and then plummeted down towards the ground. It crashed into one of the alien vehicles and exploded, but the alien machine kept moving, although it was clearly damaged.
It’s designed for high-pressure environments
, Charles thought, as he motioned for his men to fall back again.
It can shrug off anything, but a direct missile hit
.
“Lay mines in its path,” he ordered, separating out his platoon into two groups. The aliens weren't worried by small arms fire, even machine guns. Their response was always the same; a withering hail of fire, followed by a slow steady advance towards the next contact. In human terms, they were too slow to launch a proper blitzkrieg, but Charles was starting to think it didn't matter. “Slow the bastards down!”
Two American tanks burst out of hiding and charged towards the alien vehicles, firing antitank rounds towards their weaker points. The aliens, taken by surprise, hesitated long enough to allow the Americans to land several blows before finally returning fire, trying hard to take out the tanks. One of them was ripped apart by multiple hits; the other managed to flee, crashing wildly from side to side as it was chased by a hail of plasma fire. The aliens seemed angered; their vehicles picked up speed, even though it was nothing more than a slow crawl by human standards. New alerts flashed up in the display; Charles glanced at them, then realised that the aliens were reoccupying their city.
I hope the boffins got out in time
, he thought. Half of them had been outright rude to the soldiers – they seemed to believe the military had deliberately started the war – but they didn't deserve to be alien prisoners. He’d had more than a few nightmares about the humans they’d rescued from the alien POW camp on Alien-1.
And that anyone stupid enough to actually talk to the aliens was dragged out before it was too late
.
“Fall back to Point Alpha,” the Rhino ordered. “Leave as many unpleasant surprises as you can as you move.”
Charles nodded, after taking another look at the display. The aliens were advancing forward, bringing more and more troops out of the water. It was clear that the humans could retreat indefinitely, but the aliens would simply overrun the plasma cannon emplacements and then call in fire from orbit. He hadn't seen anything so strange – and yet so unbeatable – since the no-win situation he’d faced in the simulators.
“We’re on our way,” he said.
The Royal Marines joined the retreat, passing through an emplacement of antitank missiles set up by the French Foreign Legion. Charles paused long enough to share what they’d learned with the French CO, who looked grimly determined to hold his position as long as possible. Once they were nearly a kilometre away from the French position, Charles and his men slowed and started to dig another trench for themselves. They’d try to slow the aliens down while the French made their escape.
It was nearly forty minutes before the crawling alien vehicles encountered the French. The French had used the time well, Charles had to admit; they’d set up long-range guns as well as antitank rockets and smoke grenades, although the latter didn't seem to slow the aliens down very much, if at all. Two alien crabs – the term seemed to have become adopted by the defenders – went up in colossal fireballs, the remainder pounded the French position into rubble and kept moving.
“They must have a very high-pressure interior too,” one of the analysts muttered. Charles barely heard him as he prepared for a stand. “When they’re penetrated, they explode.”
“Sounds like a bitch I once knew,” someone muttered. “She really hated it when I took my time.”
Charles ignored the byplay, concentrating instead on calling in fire from the gunners. Only direct hits seemed to inflict any damage, although one alien crab had come to a halt after a shell had smashed one of its legs. The aliens seemed to be hesitating, rather than advancing ... and then they unleashed a new weapon of their own. Charles had only a few seconds to recognise it as a long-range gun before the shell exploded somewhere to the rear.
“They’ve set them up along the beach,” the Rhino observed. “Our gunners will have to deal with them.”
“They must have stolen the idea from New Russia,” Sergeant Jackson said.
“They probably developed gunpowder on their own,” Charles disagreed. He honestly couldn't see how the aliens had reached into space without developing gunpowder. Maybe they’d had projectile weapons themselves, then gave them up when they realised that plasma weapons were much more effective. But they couldn't use plasma weapons underwater. “They just kept them in reserve for when they needed them again.”
The alien gunners didn't seem to be very accurate at first, but they learned quickly. Charles took advantage of the sudden pause to strengthen his position, then plan his retreat to the east of the advancing aliens. The alien crabs were spreading out now, allowing his men a chance to slip between them and cut them off from the water. If their guesses about alien psychology were correct, the aliens would react badly to the challenge. They might even swing around and go after the Marines.
They don’t seem to have thought of battlesuits for themselves
, he thought, as the aliens closed in on his position.
Will they be able to operate them if they try
?
He pushed the thought aside as the aliens opened fire. Brilliant streaks of light blazed over his head, then started to narrow down towards their targets. The Royal Marines returned fire at the same instant, launching five missiles towards the alien crabs. One exploded so violently it smashed the legs of its neighbour, the others kept moving forward with deadly intent. Charles sucked in his breath, then barked commands. As one, the Royal Marines took to their heels and ran east.
“They’re not coming after us,” he said. The aliens couldn't hope to catch the suits, but he’d expected them to try. “We’re clear.”
“Then cut them off,” the Rhino said. “Good luck.”
Charles nodded as the Marines changed course, running back towards the shoreline. The aliens were uncomfortable on dry land, which offered the chance to make them
more
uncomfortable. Warfare was a test of wills as well as technology and weapons; if the aliens believed themselves to be cut off, they might delay their attack on the forward bases.
But if they were wrong, Charles knew, it wouldn't be long before the aliens cleared enough of the plasma cannons to allow the orbital craft to move in for the kill.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“There's one inhabited planet, on the outer edge of the life-bearing zone,” Lopez reported, as they crossed the tramline into the unexplored system. “There’s definitely an orbital presence, but there doesn't seem to be a major industrial node here.”
Ted wasn't too surprised. The system didn't seem to have any gas giant, as far as they could tell, and a gas giant was vitally important for large-scale industrialisation. They probably did have some local industry – unless the alien economy was very different from humanity’s it was probably cheaper to produce some items locally rather than ship it across several star systems – but not a shipyard. Besides, there didn't seem to be any large-scale defences either.
“Good,” he said. He wanted –
needed
– to attack the system, to avenge the ambush and the dead crewmen and the damaged ships in the worst possible way, but he knew better. The aliens could not be allowed to catch even a sniff of their presence. “Keep us well away from anything that might detect us.”
“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. “Do you want to launch recon probes?”
Ted considered it, hastily. Recon probes were damn near impossible to detect; certainly, the aliens had no greater success at detecting them than humanity. But even the slightest hint that there was a human fleet in the system could be disastrous. The aliens didn't seem to be aware that they had slipped through the tramline, but they could still jump back into the Target One system quicker than he, if they had reason to believe they should.
“No,” he said, finally. “We will restrict ourselves to long-range observations only.”
“Aye, sir,” Lopez said.
He looked down at the list of updates from the rest of the fleet and smiled, grimly. The aliens had inflicted considerable damage, but all five remaining carriers were still reasonably operational, apart from one that had taken some damage to her landing tubes. Her fighters had already been shared out among the remaining carriers as her engineering crews struggled to repair the damage. By the time they returned to Target One, Ted had been assured, they would either have a carrier capable of launching fighters once again or a ship that would need to sneak back to the tramline that headed back to human space.
“There are no traces of alien warships within the system,” Lopez added, ten minutes later. “I don't even think there’s a major presence away from the settled world.”
“They may have gone dark,” Ted said. If he'd known there was a marauding enemy fleet in the next system,
he
would have ordered his forces to go dark too. “But keep us well away from anything that might detect us.”
He stood and walked towards the hatch, feeling his age pressing down on him. “Get some rest too,” he added, as the secondary CIC crew filed into the compartment. “All of you.”
Bracing himself, he walked down to his cabin and stepped into the compartment. This time, there was no Marine on guard duty. As soon as the hatch had closed, he sat down on his chair and looked down at the small embedded terminal. There were at least seven hours before the fleet was in position to slip through the tramline back to Target One.
Seven hours
, he thought, coldly.
A great deal can happen in seven hours
.
***
Henry looked down at the flight roster with some dismay. After the first battle, it seemed that every successive battle was fought with new wingmen, all as unused to him as he was to them. This time, a pair of French pilots had been assigned to the squadron, both of whom claimed more experience than any of the British rooks. There had already been several arguments, which had finally been terminated by the CAG and a series of dire threats to have them cleaning the ship’s toilets with their own toothbrushes. Like the rest of them, Henry had realised, the CAG was right at the limits of his endurance. The pilots had stopped arguing very quickly after his threats.
Sighing, he walked out of the ready room – checking his communicator carefully – and made his way towards the observation blister. He felt an odd twinge of surprise when he discovered it was empty, although he knew he was being silly. He’d half-expected Janelle to be there, waiting for him. His hand twitched towards his communicator, intending to send her a message, then he pushed the thought aside. She might well be too busy right now to listen to him. Instead, he sat down on the bench and stared out at the stars.
He’d done well, he knew, and yet the squadron had been badly hammered. The aliens had pressed the offensive to the point where they’d actually managed to board
Ark Royal
, a thought that sent shivers down his spine. No one had seriously expected anything of the sort before the war ... and, even after
Ark Royal
had captured an alien craft, no one had expected the aliens to try the same tactic. His hand dropped to the pistol at his belt, recalling the CAG’s stern instruction for his pilots to practice in the shooting range when they had time, even though none of them were groundpounders. But the Admiral’s paranoia had been proved to be entirely correct.
Tiredly, he closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, Janelle was sitting facing him, her long legs almost brushing against his knees. Henry smiled as soon as he saw her, wondering just why he hadn’t woken up when she entered the compartment. He’d never had any real privacy back home on Earth, to the point where the slightest sound could jerk him awake. Maybe it was a good sign, he told himself, that he felt he could trust her enough to fall asleep in front of her. Someone else might have taken photos of him while he slept and sold them to the tabloids. Or tried to push him into an incriminating position and
then
take photographs of him.
“Hi,” she said, with a brilliant smile. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Henry said. He snapped awake as he realised he might have slept through his shift and reached for his communicator. Thankfully, it had only been an hour, not long enough for him to miss his turn in the ready starfighters. The CAG would probably have murdered him if he’d failed to report for duty, or at the very least ensured there would be no promotion in his immediate future. “And you?”
“I’ve felt better,” she said. Up close, it was clear she was tired too. “This system seems suspiciously harmless.”
Henry nodded. He knew the feeling.
“So the Admiral told me to take some rest,” she added. “But I couldn't sleep.”
“I had problems sleeping too,” Henry said. The sleep machines had always made him feel odd, even though they did replenish his energy reserves. “And so I came here.”