The Trafalgar Gambit

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Major Charles Parnell gritted his teeth as he led the way through the airlock, knowing all too well that the aliens could be waiting in ambush on the far side. He’d never liked hard-entry operations, where there were only one or two angles of attack and the enemy knew it, and this was worse. An injury that could be handled on the ground would be utterly lethal in space. But no one greeted his Marines with fire as they filed out onto the hull. Instead, there was no sign of the enemy.

“Advance carefully,” he ordered. “And watch your backs.”

He shivered as he led the advance forward. Flickers of light danced overhead, like twinkling stars, as the aliens pressed the offensive against the carrier. Bolts of lightning — plasma fire — seemed to flare out from the weapons blisters and vanish into the darkness, while shapes moved high over their heads. He thought, for a second, that he caught sight of something moving, only to realise that it was one of the blisters altering its position. The aliens could be anywhere.

Charles kept a careful eye out for the aliens as they snuck forwards. It had been months since he’d walked on the Old Lady’s hull, during damage control duties. Fighting in space was very different to fighting on the ground; if they accidentally jumped off the hull they would keep going and be lost in space forever. His boots were magnetically linked to the hull, but it wasn’t strong enough to ensure he could never lose touch with the ship. That would have made it impossible to walk.

“Sir,” one of his men hissed. There was no need to whisper, but they kept their voices low out of habit. “I see them.”

Charles followed his pointing finger and saw the aliens, clustering around one of the larger weapons blisters. They wore heavier suits than anything the Marines wore, but it shouldn’t have been surprising. Their environmental requirements were different from humanity’s, after all. He used hand-signals to motion his men forward, then lifted his rifle. The real danger of fighting on the ship’s hull was accidentally inflicting more damage on an already battered starship. But there was no alternative.

“Fire,” he ordered.

A stream of pellets killed five of the aliens before they could react, blowing their bodies away from the ship and out into space. The remainder spun around with surprising speed — Charles couldn’t help wondering if they’d been enhanced in some way — and started to return fire with handheld plasma weapons. They didn’t seem to care about damaging the ship. Charles cursed the weapons under his breath as he dropped to the hull, then crawled forwards. Months of research had not yet delivered a way to duplicate the alien weapons for humanity, despite their obvious advantages. It was a very minor frustration in the great scheme of things, but it rankled.

He tongued his communicator as the Marines advanced rapidly. “We have engaged the enemy,” he said. Another alien shuttle drifted into view, heading towards the hull. One of the Marines launched a handheld missile at it before it could start unloading its boarding party. “Prepare reinforcements at the major airlocks, but do not deploy unless we call for them.”

And then he concentrated on sweeping the aliens off his ship’s hull.

The alien superdreadnaught was armed to the teeth, Henry discovered, as the humans starfighters closed in on their target. She practically bristled with plasma weapons, each one spewing out hundreds of bolts every minute. A dozen human starfighters died as they tried to slip into firing range, the remainder ducking and weaving so wildly that one of them actually slammed into the ship’s hull. It absorbed the damage and rumbled on, utterly uncaring.

“Break off,” Rose ordered, finally. “She’s heading right for the Old Lady.”

And she might prove indestructible, Henry thought, as they put some space between themselves and the alien ship. She has too much firepower for missiles or mass drivers to slip through her defences.

He fired a shot at an alien starfighter, then rejoined the badly weakened CSP surrounding Ark Royal. The aliens were actually landing on the ship’s hull, hacking away at her point defence and sensor blisters. He had to admire their dedication; they probably wouldn’t survive, but they’d fatally weaken the Old Lady. Ark Royal wouldn’t be able to retreat any longer…

Up close, it was clear the Old Lady was in serious trouble. One of her starfighter launch bays was wrecked, while atmosphere was venting from her lower hull. Henry couldn’t help finding that more ominous than anything else. The Old Lady had plenty of atmosphere — carriers were far larger than any other ship in the fleet — but her inner airlocks should have automatically closed, preventing much of the atmosphere from leaking through the gashes in her hull. If the airlocks had failed, the interior damage had to be severe.

“Shit,” Rose said, as a flight of alien starfighters descended on the carrier. “They’re going to shoot through the holes. Take them out!”

“Understood,” Henry said. The regular squadrons had been shot to pieces. Pilots flew with whoever they could find, no matter what squadron they were assigned to. Many of the survivors were doing well, he noted, or they would be dead by now. There were only thirty-two starfighters left in the fleet. “Moving in… now.”

The alien starfighters hung in front of the gash, pouring plasma fire into the Old Lady’s interior. Henry had no illusions. They would hit something explosive or important sooner or later, blowing through airlocks and exposing more of the crew to vacuum. He opened fire as soon as he was in position, blowing one of the starfighters into flaming debris. The second starfighter angled away, returning fire in a steady stream of glowing bolts, but the third starfighter hit its drivers and flew right into the carrier. Moments later, it slammed into the bulkhead and exploded, violently.

“Incoming missiles,” Rose snapped. “Engage them…”

Henry spun his starfighter around, too late. Rose picked off one of the missiles, but the second was far too close to be stopped. And then Rose shoved her starfighter forward and both the missile and her craft vanished in a ball of fire.

“No,” Henry said. She couldn’t have sacrificed herself like that, not now. There were pilots who needed her. But she had found the death he suspected she’d craved. “I…”

He shook his head. There would be time to mourn later.

“This is Henry,” he said, as he yanked his starfighter away from the ship’s hull. He’d never quite sorted out the difference between Prince Henry and Charles Augustus. “I am taking command of the starfighter squadrons.”

He glanced at the status display and shuddered. Five more pilots had died in the last few minutes. The aliens were regrouping themselves, while the Old Lady’s point defence had been critically weakened and the superdreadnaught was closing in, belching out missiles as if her commander no longer cared about holding back. And maybe he didn’t…

“Regroup here,” he ordered, silently thanking God that they’d duplicated the alien weapons system. If they’d had to replenish their weapons as well as life-support packs, they would have been wiped out by now. “And prepare to fight to the last.”

“War Hog is gone, sir,” Farley reported.

Ted nodded. The aliens had battered Ark Royal so badly he could feel his starship dying around him. War Hog had seemed to lead a charmed life; she’d been part of Operation Nelson, then Operation Trafalgar, without taking any damage at all. But now she was gone, blown away so completely there was nothing left. There certainly weren’t any lifepods drifting through space…

The bastards would probably use them for target practice, he thought, sourly. Surrender wasn’t an option. All we can do is fight.

He gritted his teeth as he looked down at the mounting damage reports. Entire compartments and sections were unsalvageable, sealed off to prevent the damage from spreading, while over half of the ship-mounted weapons and sensor blisters were gone. If the Marines hadn’t been trying to keep the alien boarders from hacking away at the ship’s systems they’d all be gone by now, leaving the ship blind and defenceless. Fusion Four had followed the previous reactor into death, crippling his ship. If the aliens managed to take out one or two more, he knew, they wouldn’t have to take out any more of the weapons. The Old Lady would be defenceless anyway.

“Warn Doyle to move into position to cover us,” he ordered. The last frigate… she wouldn’t last long, but perhaps long enough. “And continue launching missiles and projectiles towards the superdreadnaught.”

He took a long breath, tasting smoke in the air. That was far from normal. The air circulation system had to be breaking down too. He keyed his console, sending a warning to all hands to keep their breathmasks at hand. If the circulation system was dying, considering just how much damage the ship had taken, the air would rapidly become toxic.

“Aye, sir,” Farley said. “But we’re not breaking through its defences.”

Ted nodded, reluctantly. The alien commander seemed to be mad; he was keeping his ship crawling towards Ark Royal, as if he intended to hammer her to pieces at point-blank range. Some alien weapons did have very short ranges — the magnetic bottle holding the plasma together rarely lasted long — but it seemed a little extreme. At least there was no sign the aliens had developed mass drivers. Ted couldn’t understand the oversight — mass-producing mass drivers was a relatively simple — yet he couldn’t help being grateful for it. The Old Lady was in no state to survive a single direct hit.

But perhaps there was method in the alien commander’s madness. His ship was intact, no matter how many missiles Ted threw at it. Her designers seemed to have placed a great deal of effort into protecting the ship and Ted had to admit, reluctantly, that they had done a very good job. The ship was almost as tough as Ark Royal, perhaps more so. They’d created a war machine intended to take the war to Earth…

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. 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?