The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal) (58 page)

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
.

He smiled at the thought, then glanced around the bridge.  Consoles were darkening as power failed or internal reporting systems collapsed, but it hardly mattered any longer.  They were doomed the moment they struck the alien craft.  He searched for the words to tell his crew just how proud he was of them, yet nothing came to mind.  But he thought they knew.

Goodbye
, he thought, silently.  There was no point in trying to evacuate the ship.  Even if the lifepods made it away in time, the alien starfighters would pick them off one by one. 
I love you all
.

Moments later, the two ships came together and exploded.

***

His life support unit was flashing red, but Henry ignored his own orders and watched helplessly, forcing himself to bear witness, as
Ark Royal
slammed into the alien ship.  For a moment, he thought the carrier would shatter the alien ship but survive herself ... and then the first giant explosion billowed through her hull.  Moments later, both craft had been smashed by the blasts.  Giant pieces of debris blasted out of the fireball and drifted through space.

Henry closed his eyes, silently bidding the ancient carrier farewell.  She had been his home – his first true home, where he could be himself.  He’d met his friends and lover there ...

... And now she was gone.

But she had not died in vain, he told himself.  She'd created a legend ... and she’d ensured there would be peace.  What better legacy could she ask for?

“Well,” Uncle Winchester said, “I dare say your old commander would be proud.”

“I don't think he would have cared for a state funeral,” James said, sourly.  Admiral Smith had requested burial in space, according to his will.  “But I suppose the politicians must have their chance to pay homage to him.”

“Welcome to politics,” Uncle Winchester said.  He leaned forward.  “But I dare say he would have approved.”

James had his doubts.  The Russians had been blackmailed once – and it had ensured that they had largely escaped consequences for the attempt to use the bioweapon.  Officially, rogue agents had carried out the attack on
Ark Royal
, only to be stopped at the last hurdle.  The truth would remain buried – forever, if the Russians had their way.  It was infuriating to think that the Russians had largely escaped punishment for their actions.  The only consolation was the awareness that they wouldn't be paid any compensation by the other powers.

But they may get New Russia back anyway
, James thought.  The final negotiations with the aliens had hinted that they might abandon New Russia, purely to disarm the remaining elements of the War Faction.  At that point ... the Russians would reassert their claim to the system and, with so many people on the planet’s surface, they’d probably win. 
And who knows what will happen then
?

“Perhaps, Uncle,” he said, finally.  “And what of your plan to leave the system to die?”

“We may send the ships out anyway,” Uncle Winchester said.  “Who knows
what
we will encounter in the future?  It might be a sensible idea to have a hidden colony or two, some distance from the rest of humanity.”

“And stake a claim before the official borders wash over the system,” James pointed out, snidely.  “It might be workable.”

“Indeed it might,” Uncle Winchester said.  “And
congratulations,
Admiral Fitzwilliam.”

James sighed.  The Admiralty had been coming under fire for failing to dispatch the relief mission in time to save
Ark Royal
.  It was irritating – for once, it wasn't the bureaucrats fault – but they’d tried to make up for it by handing promotions out to the survivors like confetti at a wedding.  James was now the youngest Admiral in the Royal Navy and charged with taking command of the multinational fleet guarding the border worlds.  It wasn't a job he particularly wanted.

“Thank you, Uncle,” he said.  “And have you made the arrangements I wanted?”

“I have,” Uncle Winchester said.  “No one could deny you anything, not now.  I would suggest you start looking for a wife.  Quite a few young ladies were introduced to London during the last season.  One of them would be interested.”

“No, thank you,” James said.  “I don’t want a young wife.”

He scowled.  “Did you complete the arrangements
exactly
as specified?”

“Yes,” his uncle said.  “If there had been a problem, young man, I would have told you.”

James nodded.  “I think Admiral Smith would have approved of
that
,” he said.  “And I thank you for your assistance.”