The Nelson Touch

Chapter Twenty-Nine

In hindsight, Ted realised, as the alien ships closed in, it should have been obvious. Everyone had known that tramlines didn’t form between planets and the stars they orbited — but then, everyone had also known that it was impossible to extend a tramline. If the aliens could do one, why not the other?

“They used a tramline between the gas giant and the star,” he realised. “Jumped their fleet right into prime interception position.”

Lopez blinked at him. “Sir?”

“If they’ve mastered jumping without a tramline, we’re dead,” Ted pointed out. “They could have jumped right into close range and torn us apart before we even knew we were under attack. Instead… where they appeared says there has to be a tramline there, even if we didn’t expect it to exist.”

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. The analysts could work on it later, once they got out of the trap. “Launch probes at both alien fleets,” he ordered. “I want to know what we’re facing.”

The display updated rapidly. Both alien fleets included eight large carriers and a number of smaller ships, including several of unknown design. Ted had to admit they’d timed it very well; if he continued to advance towards the planet, he’d have to fight his way through one force while the other came up behind him. If he turned and retreated back to the tramline, the same thing would happen, only in reverse. And, with one enemy fleet blocking his path back to the tramline, he couldn’t hope to avoid engagement.

We can’t enter the tramline without engaging the fleet, he thought, grimly. And if we don’t try to enter the tramline, we’ll die here.

“Alter course,” he ordered. If the enemy could be tempted to merge their fleets into one unit, the tactical problem would become simpler. But then, if they did, they could just crush his fleet by sheer weight of numbers. “I want to head away from both fleets.”

He watched, grimly, as the enemy fleet altered course too. Force One — the fleet between them and the gas giant — started to move in pursuit, while Force Two hunkered down near the tramline. Ted silently cursed the enemy commander under his breath, knowing just what it meant; whoever they were facing was not someone inclined to make rash moves. They might be able to beat Force One, but Force Two would still be blocking their escape. And, given the alien speed advantage, it was unlikely he could smash his way through Force Two before Force One caught up with them.

And even if we did, they’d still be in position to charge after us into the Target One system, he thought. He shot a wistful look at the display, where Target Two still glowed invitingly, then dismissed the thought. There was no way they could attack the system now. We have to beat them both here.

“Force Two is moving,” Lopez said. “She’s advancing along the tramline.”

Ted nodded, unsurprised. Force Two would always be between the humans and their only means of escape. If they set out through interstellar space, it would be years before they reached another star… and they’d better hope it had a tramline. And if the drives failed in interstellar space, they’d be stranded for the rest of their lives. No, that wasn’t an option. But nor was forcing their way back through the tramline…

“Show me the system’s other tramlines,” he ordered, slowly. If they were trapped, and it certainly looked that way, it was time to gamble. “And then compare them to the data we pulled from the alien battlecruiser.”

There was a long pause as Lopez worked her way through the data, then forwarded it to the analysts to check and double-check. “There’s one tramline that leads here,” she said, bringing up the star chart. “And that star has, we think, a link back to Target One.”

We think, Ted mused. Tramlines were normally predicable, but there were odd hiccups from time to time. He vaguely recalled a gravity specialist predicting that the tramline network would sometimes shift configuration from time to time, upsetting all of humanity’s trade networks. But in over a hundred years of exploration, no tramline had ever been noted to vanish or shift to a different star. No one really took the threat seriously.

He stared down at the display, calculating the odds. There was no way of knowing what they’d encounter along the way, or what the aliens would do when they realised that the humans weren’t planning to risk engagement with Force Two. No, Ted shook his head; he had a very good idea of what the aliens would do. They’d mass their forces and then advance against the human fleet. Their speed would make it possible to catch up with his fleet sooner rather than later.

Or they’d head back to Target One and wait for us there, he thought. Cold ice ran down his spine as he realised just how easily the aliens could thwart them. All they’d have to do was return to Target One and set up an ambush there, which meant… that he’d have to defeat at least one of the alien forces here before it could ambush them for the second time.

“Alter course,” he ordered, using his fingers to trace out a course on the display. “Let them come after us, if they dare.”

It was a hell of a risk, he knew. In order to disable or destroy the alien fleet, he had to tempt them with the prospect of actually crushing his fleet. And yet, if they refused, he would have to either challenge them directly or take the risk of passing through the other tramline without damaging the alien fleet, which would merely move the decisive battle to Target One.

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said.

Ted sat back in his chair, silently cursing the sheer… slowness of space battles under his breath. It would be nearly an hour before Force One entered engagement range, assuming the aliens took the bait, and longer still before he knew if they’d won or lost. He would have plenty of time for second-guessing himself, or working out possible alternatives to a direct confrontation. Maybe they could simply break contact completely…

Unlikely, he thought. He looked down at the display, thinking hard. The aliens presumably had a solid lock on his fleet. They might well have scattered stealth platforms around the tramline, taking advantage of their rough idea of where his fleet would appear. No, he couldn’t hope to break contact easily. It was much more likely that the aliens would be able to keep tracking him anyway.

“Program some of the drones for multiple images,” he added. The aliens wouldn’t lose their sensor lock, but maybe he could spoof it. “And stand by to deploy mines.”

It was rare to use mines in space combat. Normally, the enemy could pick one of any number of approach vectors and mining them all would be staggeringly expensive. But now, the enemy fleet was advancing on a predicable vector. They’d run right into the mines, if they were laid properly.

“Aye, sir,” Lopez said. She paused, inspecting her console. “The analysts want us to beam the First Contact package to the alien ships.”

Ted snorted. It was alarmingly clear the aliens had hostile intentions, even if they hadn’t been fighting a war for the past year. Their fleet deployments were intended to trap or destroy the human fleet. Maybe it was possible to open communications… but it was also possible that the aliens would use the exchange of signals to try to convince him to stand down, perhaps as a prelude to more formal talks. And then, when he was helpless, open fire.

But it had to be tried.

“Send the package,” he ordered, reluctantly.

He thought, suddenly, of Prince Henry. The Prince had wanted to be in danger, he’d wanted to be treated like a normal pilot… and he’d gotten his wish. Ted had to smile at the thought, even though he knew it would open a huge can of worms back home. At least one of them was going to be happy when the aliens finally entered engagement range.

“Nothing, sir,” Lopez said, after twenty minutes had ticked past. “They didn’t respond at all.”

Ted nodded. He wasn’t surprised.

“You’re suiting up?”

Kurt nodded as he zipped up the flight suit, then motioned for Rose to check that he’d sealed it properly. “We have a spare starfighter without a pilot,” he said, “and the odds are pretty damn bad out there. I’m needed out there, not in here.”

Rose eyed him for a long moment. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to get out of the paperwork?”

“Yes,” Kurt said. He laughed. She’d heard him complaining about the paperwork more than once over the last month, although half the time he’d used it as an excuse to be in his office, away from prying eyes. “If we get blown up today, there will be no paperwork ever again.”

He reached for his helmet, checked it carefully, then inspected her suit. It was impossible to avoid noticing how it fitted against her body, revealing the curve of her breasts, but he forced down the reaction it aroused in him. It always happened when he was about to go to war, he knew; the sudden erection, the sudden desperate desire to sow his wild oats one final time, even though they both used contraception implants. Angrily, Kurt forced his eyes down to the deck, then away from her. They were alone, but not in a private compartment. He didn’t dare get caught doing something that would get them both in very deep shit.

Rose gave him an odd look. Perhaps she’d caught something of his emotions.

“Don’t worry,” she said, finally. “We’ve been in bad situations before, sir.”

Kurt nodded. Ark Royal seemed to have a habit of blundering into bad situations, from the raid on New Russia to the capture of the alien battlecruiser. He couldn’t help noticing the similarities between their current situation and the latter, although he could also see the differences. This time, the carrier wasn’t alone. There were four other modern carriers with her, each one crammed with the most modern human technology…

And thin-skinned enough that a single flame on a message forum will burn through their armour, he thought. If the aliens made one good strafing run, those carriers are dead.

“Yes,” he said. “And we’ve managed to get out of them too.”

He found himself flushing and looked away, swallowing hard. He’d known, after the raid on New Russia and their desperate attempt to escape enemy pursuit, that they were dead, that it was only a matter of time before the aliens killed them. It was why he’d started sleeping with Rose in the first place, knowing that he would never have to face the consequences. But now… they’d survived, against all odds. And if they survived this battle too…

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, although he wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. Rose had been the one to start things, not him. Maybe he should have said no. But then, he’d been attracted to her and he’d known they were about to die. And now… he thought suddenly of Molly and wondered, bitterly, just who she was fucking. If she was fucking anyone…

Rose glanced around the compartment, then kissed him hard on the lips. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, when they broke contact. “We have to get out there and defend the ship. Our personal lives can come later.”

Kurt nodded and watched her walk out of the compartment, twitching her hips in a ludicrously sassy manner. He snorted, checked his appearance in the mirror, then followed her through the airlocks and into the briefing room. All of the pilots were gathered there, save for the ones already in their starfighters, waiting for the command to launch. It was possible, they knew, that the aliens might have a third fleet sneaking round in front of them, ready to ambush the humans when they entered engagement range.

He paused, long enough to try to capture the mood in the room. Some of the rooks — no, they were hardly rooks any longer — seemed nervous, as if they hadn’t expected to be forced against the wall so soon. The older pilots looked resigned; they, at least, knew how quickly a situation could move from being firmly in control to absolute chaos. Kurt briefly glanced at Prince Henry, trying not to show any untoward interest, and was relieved to see that the Prince was holding up well. He’d met some aristocrats who were so used to the idea of the universe bending to their whims that they started to whimper or scream in protest when the universe refused to cooperate.

Good, he thought, dryly. Maybe he would make a good King after all.

Or maybe not, part of his mind suggested. The King wasn’t meant to do anything, beyond looking good and signing laws put forward by the Prime Minister and his Government. Some people might enjoy a coddled existence, but Henry — from what he’d seen of the young man — would hate it so much he’d either lash out or try to escape. Perhaps his sister would be a better choice… besides, Queens called Elizabeth had a good record. The same couldn’t be said for Kings called Henry. He honestly had no idea why the Royal Family had chosen that name.

And to think that Molly would want me to suck up to him, he added, silently. Henry would hate that too, he was sure. If he’d wanted to be sucked up to, he would have served under his real name. Brave boy…

Rose cleared her throat, meaningfully. Kurt snapped out of his thoughts and walked up to the stand, then glared at his pilots. There were too many empty chairs, he saw, wishing they could be removed as they were on the modern carriers. But Ark Royal’s were bolted to the deck. Not, in the end, that it was anything more than an illusion. There would be many more empty chairs at the end of the day.

“The enemy thinks they have us bent over a barrel,” he said. The crude analogy would appeal to them, he knew. “They’re currently planning to ram something unpleasant right up our buttocks, probably a dildo coated in chilli.”

There were some chuckles. The atmosphere of doom started to lift, slightly. Kurt smiled inwardly, then continued.

“We have to stop them,” he said. “In particular, we will have to keep them off the modern carriers as well as launching antishipping strikes of our own, in unison with the ship-mounted weapons. Ideally, we want to wreck their carriers and force the rest of their ships to keep their distance. This will not be easy, but if it was easy, they wouldn’t need us.”

He paused. “This is what we’ve trained for, since the start of the operation,” he continued. “You will be flying in makeshift formations, operating beside pilots from several separate nations, defending all of us from the aliens. I expect each and every one of you to do your duty, knowing that everything rests on you.

“Years ago, Britain’s fate rested in the hands of a handful of pilots. Now, the fate of all of humanity may rest on her starfighters and the brave men and women who fly them. It will not be easy, it will be costly, but there is no other choice. Watch your wingmen, fight with your comrades and kick alien butt.”

He took another moment to survey the room. The next operation, if there was a next operation, would involve more prep time, if he had anything to say about it. They’d flown endless simulated missions, but not enough real flying beside their international allies. Most of their experience had come from learning on the job. In future, he promised himself, the Royal Navy would take the lessons from this deployment and apply them thoroughly.

“Good luck,” he said. He lifted his helmet. “I’ll be flying out there beside you, so don’t let me down.”

They looked surprised, even though he was wearing a flight suit and carrying a helmet. Kurt remembered his own days as a young pilot and understood their feelings; he’d never really believed, emotionally, that his CAG had also been a pilot. No, the pilots had assured themselves that the CAG didn’t really know what it was like to be a pilot. But they’d been wrong, as he’d discovered later. The CAG had been a flyer — it was a requirement for the post — but he’d never needed to fly into battle. Back then, the Royal Navy had never really believed that a war was likely.

Which does raise the question of just how much the world governments knew, Kurt thought, coldly. It was a question that was still hotly debated. Did they start the military build-up because of a prospective alien threat?

“Your flight schedules are posted on the datanet,” he concluded. “Half of you will escort the bombers; half of you will cover the carriers. If you have to switch roles in a hurry, I’ll let you know. Try not to fuck up under enemy fire. That’s always costly.”

The pilots grimaced. One advantage of the simulators was that they could make mistakes without anything more than public humiliation. And, as always, they’d made every mistake in the book long before taking a single starfighter out of a launch tube. But, thankfully, most of them had learned from the experience.

Kurt smiled at their expressions. “Report to your starfighters,” he ordered, finally. The pilots would do well, he knew, or die trying. But far too many of them would die anyway. “And prepare for launch.”