Christopher Nuttall - A Learning Experience

The Hordesmen came closer, their weapons charging as their sensors locked onto the freighters. Daniel wondered, coldly, why they weren’t firing already, then he realised they were being macho idiots. Just like a particularly idiotic biker gang, he decided, they wanted to play chicken. Accidental collisions in interstellar space were rare, according to the datafiles, but deliberate collisions quite easy. The incoming ship had to be vaporised completely to prevent it doing real damage.

“We have permission to fire,” Christian said.

Daniel sucked in a breath. Life on a submarine hadn’t prepared him for deep space warfare, not really. And it hadn’t convinced him that he might have to make a last stand…

“Fire,” he ordered.

For a long moment, Yss!Yaa simply refused to accept what he was seeing. The freighters had fired… and nine Horde starships had simply been blown out of space. Their weapons had burned right through the defence shields and chewed right into their hulls, ripping them open effortlessly. It was impossible . And yet it had happened.

He watched, helplessly, as the advancing starships opened fire, their directed energy weapons slicing through minimal shields and then cutting deep into the freighter hulls. And then there was another colossal series of explosions. The entire command network crashed under the tidal wave of radiation. He swore out loud, then demanded answers from his staff as they worked frantically to reboot the system. The entire fleet was vulnerable until they managed to get the command network back up and running…

It was impossible, part of his mind insisted. But it had happened, somehow. And a number of his ships had been destroyed by a far inferior foe. How?

“Antimatter,” the sensor officer said. “They crammed the ship full of antimatter and just waited for us to destroy it.”

Yss!Yaa silently gave him points for brains. Yes, it was obvious now. The humans had mass-produced antimatter and turned it into a weapon. It was one hell of a risk, but it had paid off for them. The Horde had lost nine starships, at least. Piece by piece, the command network shuddered back into existence. Two more starships, it seemed, had vanished in the blasts.

But they’re resorting to trickery , he thought. The Galactics rarely bothered to be subtle when they were pruning the Hordesmen down a little. They can’t be very strong .

“Keep us heading towards their world,” he ordered. He would need to do something to make it clear to his subordinates that he was still in command. They couldn’t be allowed to think of him as weak, not now. He knew, all too well, that none of his subordinate commanders would be able to handle the battle. “And prepare for long-range bombardment.”

Steve heard his crew cheer as the enemy ships were struck, then the antimatter explosions slapped the Hordesmen back. The idea had been simple enough; they’d mounted dozens of bomb-pumped lasers on the freighter hulls, giving them an unexpected advantage over their opponents. As overconfident as they were, the Horde had clearly never expected the freighters to be turned into traps — and then bombs. The whole tactic had clearly caught them by surprise.

He watched the remaining Horde starships, trying to get a handle on what his opponent was thinking. In their place, Steve knew he would have backed off, particularly if his women and children were also on the line. But the Hordes seemed to be composed of prideful asses. If their leader thought better of the attack, it was quite possible that his subordinates would overthrow him and then continue the charge. The volley of insults Steve had fired at them probably didn’t make it easier for the aliens to be coldly rational.

“Prepare the fallback position,” he ordered, softly. On the display, the Hordesmen were finally overcoming their shock and advancing once again. “And warn the Mayflower to run.”

“Aye, sir,” Mongo said. “The Q-ships are in position, as are the mines.”

All right , Steve thought, as he looked at the display. Oddly, he found himself wishing he knew who he faced. Maybe the knowledge would have provided an insight into the Horde’s plans. If you want Earth, you bastards, we’ll claw you good and proper as we go down .

Sol System

“They’re approaching the minefield,” Mongo said. “But they’re also sweeping space very carefully.”

Steve gritted his teeth. The Hordesmen had been fooled once — and it was clear that they didn’t want to be fooled again. Their advance was odd — it seemed to be a cross between a reckless charge and a careful approach to the enemy — but there was a strong possibility they’d pick up the minefield before they entered attack range and the mines went active.

“Contact the fleet,” he ordered. “We will prepare to advance and engage the enemy.”

He ran through the odds quickly in his head. Eleven Horde starships were gone and four more were significantly damaged, but that still left ten warships in reasonably good condition. He had three warships and a handful of modified freighters. The odds were not good. He could delay the Horde, perhaps distract them from going after the mines, but he couldn’t stop them. Only the minefield could do that, he knew.

We should have asked Friend for a war fleet , he thought. But that would have compromised our independence too badly .

“We will advance on my command,” he said, grimly. If they could keep the enemy from looking for threats, they might just be able to pull off a victory. “I say again, we will advance on my command.”

“Stay in formation, damn you,” Yss!Yaa roared at one of his subordinate commanders. “We need to stay in formation!”

He cursed again as it became clear that it was a futile effort. His subordinates wanted blood, human blood, and they all wanted the honour of landing the first blows against Earth. His formation was a formation in name only, now that several of his officers had recovered from their shock and were advancing rapidly towards Earth. And, despite the best he could do, he couldn’t keep them focused on the possibility of another trap.

“The human world is coming into range,” his weapons officer reported. “Human defences might be insufficient to stop our missiles.”

“Good,” Yss!Yaa said. “Open fire.”

“They’ve started to launch missiles,” Mongo reported. He sounded puzzled. “Missiles?”

Steve shared his puzzlement. The Galactics rarely used missiles, knowing that any halfway capable point defence network could simply swat them out of space. Even antimatter warheads wouldn’t cause much damage unless they impacted directly against a target’s shields. It was unusually stupid, even for the Horde. They didn’t gain anything by giving the human ships free targets…

His blood ran cold as the truth sank in. “They’re firing on Earth,” he whispered. Unlike a starship, a planet couldn’t dodge… and Earth’s defences were puny compared to any Galactic world. The best he’d been able to set up was a handful of point defence weapons and sensor networks, enough to take down any human missile launch, but nowhere near enough to tackle a swarm of Galactic-level missiles. “They want to kill us all!”

Kevin swore out loud. “We have to stop them!”

Steve gritted his teeth. The missiles would pass through the outer edge of the fleet’s engagement envelope, but only for a few seconds. In hindsight, the missile trajectories were obvious clues as to their targets. It was vaguely possible, he knew, that the Horde might be shooting at the planet’s orbital industries, but a miss would be absolutely disastrous in any case. The missile would fly onwards and strike the planet…