Ark Royal (45 page)

“Prepare two more drones,” he ordered, looking over at Farley.  “I want to cause as much confusion as possible as we come out of the tramline.”

It might be wasted effort, he knew.  Given enough time, the aliens could have seeded space with beacons and detectors.  But he had to try.

Shaking his head, he picked up the latest report from the doctors and started to read.  The aliens were very alien, unsurprisingly.  But there didn't seem to be any threat of disease, thankfully.  God alone knew what would happen if the Admiralty believed
Ark Royal
to be compromised.  They’d probably insist on flying the carrier right into the nearest star.

But there was one thing the report couldn't answer.  How, precisely, did the alien thought processes differ from human ones?

And just what were they planning for
Ark Royal
?

“Angle us towards the tramline,” he added, watching the timer closely.  Soon enough, the aliens wouldn't be able to intercept them before they made the jump.  There would be an opportunity, Ted calculated, to make an escape into silent running before the battlecruiser caught up ... assuming that there was no waiting ambush.  If there was ... they’d just have to fight and pray.  “Give me a countdown as soon as we reach the two-minute mark.”

***

“Why don't we just go faster?”

James concealed his tired amusement at Barbie’s question. 
Ark Royal
wasn't
trying
to crawl through space, not with her drives straining desperately to push them faster and faster towards the tramline.  But, compared to a modern human carrier – or the alien battlecruiser – she was a wallowing hippo.  The only thing preventing the alien ship from closing to engagement range was her commander’s reluctance to close the distance between them and the carrier.

“Because we don’t have the drives to go faster,” he said.  “It was a terrible oversight on the part of the designers.”

The thought made him scowl.  He’d read all the debates in the various naval forums, after
Ark Royal
had been commissioned into the Royal Navy, in what little spare time he’d had since becoming fascinated with the ship.  Some designers had argued that the carrier was simply too heavily armoured for her own good, that she would hold back the fleet if the Royal Navy ever went on the offensive.  And she was cripplingly expensive.  Even the American and Russian carriers that had come into service at the same time were lighter.

But now ... now
Ark Royal
had a survival rate the modern carriers could only envy.  New Russia had proven that; twelve modern human carriers, all wiped out with ease.  Even now the alien weapons were a known quality, the modern carriers would still be in trouble.  The last he’d heard, the designers were planning to add extra armour, hoping it would give the ships a fighting chance. 

I guess the designers got the last laugh, after all
, he thought. 
But will they ever know what happened to us
?

“Heads should roll,” Barbie said, with great certainty.  “When we get home, we will make sure everyone knows just how badly the designers performed.”

“Don't tell them that,” James said, quickly.  “They did better than the more modern designers.”

His communicator buzzed.  “We cross the tramline in ten minutes,” the Captain said.  “Report to the CIC.”

“Understood,” James said.  “I'm on my way.”

Barbie caught his hand before he could leave the compartment.  “Commander,” she said, “once we cross the tramline we’ll be safe, right?”

James hesitated.  The truth was that the alien battlecruiser would have no difficulty in crossing the tramline after them, although it might take the time to ensure that the humans couldn't lay an ambush.  He'd thought about advising the Captain to do that, but it would be chancy.  Too chancy, perhaps.

“We’ll be out of this system,” he said.  He didn't have the heart to tell her that they might fly straight into an ambush.  “I don't know what will happen afterwards.”

Shaking his head, he turned and walked out of the hatch. 

***

“No sign of any picket ships,” Farley reported.  “The tramline seems to be empty.”

Ted nodded, although he knew it meant nothing.  The aliens could be hiding under stealth or simply running silent.  It wouldn't be hard to use passive sensors to track the carrier’s progress, not now they were close to the tramline.  And the battlecruiser was still keeping its distance.

“Sound the alert,” he ordered, quietly.  The alarm howled through the ship, bringing the crew to battlestations.  Ted watched as the ship’s weapons came online, followed rapidly by the starfighter pilots checking in.  Tired as they were, they were still ready to fight to defend their carrier.  “Reports?”

“All decks report ready, sir,” Farley reported.

Ted took a breath.  “Jump,” he ordered.  “Now!”

Space twisted around them, the display fading into darkness before lighting up again.  Ahead of them, there was a dull red star, surrounded by hundreds of asteroids. 

“No contacts,” Farley said.  “No alien contacts detected at all.”

Ted stared at the display, wonderingly.  Had the aliens merely sought to keep an eye on them rather than placing an ambush ahead of their course?

An alarm sounded from the helm console.  “Captain,” Lightbridge said.  “There are no other tramlines here.”

Ted swore in sudden understanding.  The aliens hadn't engaged because they'd known
Ark Royal
was heading towards a dead end.  She’d been heading in precisely the direction the aliens wanted her to go.  Hell, the bastards could use the battlecruiser to keep the carrier penned in while they summoned additional reinforcements.  He thought, desperately, as the carrier moved away from the tramline, but nothing came to mind.  They were trapped.

“Silent running,” he ordered.  Unless the aliens had surveyed the system very carefully,
Ark Royal
could pose as just another asteroid.  One battlecruiser couldn't hope to identify them among the other pieces of space junk.  “Leave one powered-down drone by the tramline, but hold the others.  We need to hide.”

“Yes, sir,” Farley said.

Ted scowled down at the display.  A thin translucent line – an alien tramline – winked into existence, mocking him. 
They
couldn't use it to escape, even though it seemed to head back into human space.  There was no way they could build an improved Puller Drive in time to make it out.  Moments later, the alien battlecruiser popped into existence.  Ted watched, holding his breath, then sighed in relief as he realised the aliens had lost them.  But that wouldn't last indefinitely.

The conclusion was inescapable.  They were trapped.

“You have the bridge,” he growled.  Bitter helplessness warred in his mind.  They were trapped – and it was his fault.  If he’d taken the risk of jumping back towards New Russia instead ... he shook his head, angrily.  Now, he would have all the time in the world to second-guess himself.  “Keep us drifting here.”

With that, he strode through the hatch and headed down towards his cabin.

Chapter Thirty-Five

James studied the display, feeling cold ice congealing around his heart.

The realities of the tramline network were well-understood, he knew.  Without a tramline, travel from star to star was impossible.  God knew that at least one sublight colony venture had deliberately aimed for a star that was believed to have no tramlines, putting six light years between them and the closest human world.  But every other star system reached by humanity had at least one tramline.  Here, through, they had come to the end of the line.

He sucked in a breath as the alien battlecruiser made her appearance, sitting on top of the tramline and showing no sign of budging.  Once again, thankfully, the aliens had prepared for an ambush that hadn’t been prepared, giving the human ship time to hide. 
Ark Royal
would remain undetected as long as she remained still, he knew, particularly since the aliens didn't seem to be actually
looking
for her.  But they wouldn't be able to re-enter the tramline at a different point without altering course radically enough to risk detection ... and even if they did, they’d only jump back to Alien-Two.  No, they were trapped ... and the aliens would be gathering the force to destroy them.

A note blinked up on his display.  Someone – Midshipwomen Lopez – was asking for a private conversation. 
That
was rare, particularly in the middle of a battle.  Alarmed, unsure of
why
he was alarmed, James reached for his earpiece and voder, pressing one into his ear and the other against his throat.  It had been years since he had used either of the pieces of equipment, but his body remembered how to use them.

“Sir, it’s the Captain,” the young woman said.  James frowned in puzzlement, then recalled that he’d asked her to keep a subtle eye on her commander.  “He just left the bridge.”

James felt his brow furrow in alarm.  He'd known Captains who were tyrants and Captains who were too soft, but he’d never known a Captain who had abandoned his bridge when his starship was in deadly danger.  Whatever else could be said about Captain Smith, he’d definitely had the same worth ethnic.  It had been hard enough to convince the Captain to take a nap when the alien battlecruiser had been maintaining her distance.  But why would he leave the bridge now?

“I see,” he subvocalised.  He didn't dare speak out loud.  God alone knew what the CIC’s officers would think if they heard him.  “Who’s in command now?”

Midshipwomen Lopez spluttered.  “You, I think,” she said.  “But he passed bridge command over to Commander Farley ...”

James felt a shiver run down his spine.  Something was
definitely
wrong.  Traditionally, the officer on the bridge held command, even if he was outranked by someone elsewhere on the ship.  Captain Smith should have called James himself to the bridge or at least informed him that someone else would be holding formal command, if James couldn't leave the CIC ...

“Inform Commander Farley that he is still in command, but he is to alert me if the situation changes,” James said, pulling up the personnel display. 
Ark Royal
automatically tracked and logged the locations of everyone on the ship, including the aliens and their former captives, snug in their secure quarters.  The Captain wasn't in his office, but his cabin.  “I will deal with the situation.”

“But ...”

“I will deal with the situation,” James repeated.  The young woman had done enough – more than enough.  No matter what had happened, her career wouldn't survive if the Admiralty found out what she’d done.  “Remain on the bridge.”

He passed CIC command over to his second, took one final look at the tactical display – the alien ship was
still
holding position, mocking them – and hurried out of the CIC.

***

Ted entered his cabin, closed and locked the hatch behind him and sat down on the sofa, feeling absolute despair working its way through his mind.  He’d failed; he’d failed everyone from the First Space Lord to the lowliest crewman on his ship.  The aliens had them trapped now, holding in place and waiting for the force they needed to smash
Ark Royal
like a bug.  Ted had no illusions.  The aliens
knew
his ship now; they knew what they needed to destroy her.  When they came, it would be the final battle.

He cursed his own stubbornness as he stared down at the deck.  If he’d been thinking, he would have gracefully accepted the First Space Lord’s attempt to remove him from starship command.  God knew there were few officers who had served on armoured carriers, let alone spent so long improvising improvements to the original design.  Ted could have worked in the planning office, assisting the designers to prepare updated designs for carriers and battleships that would have combined modern technology and older systems to create powerful warships.  Or he could have found a place in the Admiralty, doing paperwork to allow other – more capable – officers to take command. 

But no, he’d had to keep his starship.  He’d had to keep command.

He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled over towards the safe in the bulkhead, pressing his hand against the sensor so it could read the implant buried within his palm.  It clicked open, revealing ten bottles of expensive alcohol.  He'd considered disposing of them when he’d realised that
Ark Royal
was going back into active service, but he hadn't been able to convince himself to take the plunge.  Maybe he would have served them at a dinner for his fellow commanders – he damned himself, silently, for not speaking more with them – if they hadn't all died because of his mistakes. 
Ark Royal
had only escaped because the European frigates had sacrificed themselves ...

Their sacrifice was in vain
, he told himself, as he picked up a bottle at random.  Fancy wine, he noted, from the Picard Vineyards on Mars.  Who would have thought that humanity’s first and last full-scale experiment with terraforming would have produced a modified grape that could be made into an elegant wine?  Not that Ted really cared about the details, he had to admit, or the pretensions harboured by wine snobs.  All he really cared about was the alcoholic content, the ability to blot out his mind and escape the pain.  He would have called the Chief Engineer and ordered rotgut if Anderson hadn't been so busy.