Christopher Nuttall - A Learning Experience

But if they altered course to engage the missiles, they’d run the risk of being unable to cover the minefield. And they’d lose their best chance to stop the enemy dead in their tracks.

“Continue on our current course,” he ordered, harshly.

Mongo looked up, sharply. “Steve…”

“We don’t have a choice,” Steve snapped. He hated himself for saying the words, but he didn’t have a choice. The entire world would hate him… yet they’d be alive to hate him. It was better than a dead or enslaved world. “If we don’t stop them, here and now, we lose everything.”

Yss!Yaa watched, dispassionately, as the missiles passed through the human engagement envelope — five of them being picked off before they made it out again — and roared towards the human world. Whatever the odder structures in orbit actually were, he noted, relatively few of them had any kind of point defence. Seven more missiles were picked off; three more were redirected by their smart warheads to take out the automated orbital weapons platforms and clear the way for the second salvo. The remaining missiles plunged into the planetary atmosphere and sought targets. Seconds later, nuclear detonations flashed into existence for long seconds before fading away, leaving devastation in their wake.

“Twelve human cities have been destroyed,” the weapons officer reported. “Should I fire a second salvo?”

“No,” Yss!Yaa said. They were getting far too close to infringing the convention against genocide as it was. The Galactics might cheerfully ignore any law that couldn’t be enforced effectively, but almost every power would assist in hunting down the Horde, if they were publically charged with genocide. “Concentrate on the human warships.”

He smiled. On the display, the human ships were growing closer. He wouldn’t underestimate them again, he vowed, but he couldn’t see how they could hope to match his firepower, no matter what they stuffed into a freighter hull. This time, he told himself, it would be different.

“New York is gone,” Kevin said, flatly. “Manchester, England; Paris, France; Warsaw, Poland; Moscow, Russia…”

Steve barely heard him. The devastation was simply impossible to imagine, the death rate even more so. New York alone had over eight million people. Between all eleven targets — one missile seemed to have plunged into the water, triggering tidal waves across East Asia — there might well be a hundred million dead. But it was beyond his ability to grasp. The aliens had slaughtered so many humans that they might as well be nothing more than statistics.

No wonder we rarely react when we are told so many thousands have died , the morbid part of his mind whispered. We simply can’t grasp it.

“Enemy ships coming into range,” Mongo reported. “They’re locking weapons on us.”

“Fire at will,” Steve ordered.

The Hordesmen kept coming towards the small human fleet, firing as they came. Steve watched, dispassionately, as bursts of energy flared through the void, some slamming into his shields while others pulsed onwards and faded into the darkness. The Horde, it seemed, was showing off, while the human ships were more careful with their fire. One Horde ship exploded as she was caught in a crossfire, another rolled over and came to a halt as she took major damage. But the remainder of the Horde ships were closing in.

“Slip into evasive pattern delta,” Steve ordered. Most of the Horde ships were smaller than Shadow Warrior , but that didn’t make them ineffective. Instead, they were firing savagely and weakening his defences. “And inch us back towards the minefields…”

The display bleeped, a low mournful sound. “ Vincent Hastings is gone, sir,” Kevin reported. His voice was very calm, too calm. They’d named the Q-ship after their dead friend, but they’d known she wasn’t a real warship. The only advantage she had was sheer mass and it wasn’t enough to keep the Horde from killing her. “I don’t see any lifepods.”

“If there were, the Horde would get them,” Steve muttered. “Continue firing!”

The Horde pressed closer, as if each of them were eager to put an end to the human fleet personally. They were, Steve realised grimly; they all wanted the glory that came from taking out the human ships. And it was working in his favour; from time to time, one of the ships would deliberately block another’s path, just to try to prevent them from scoring a decisive blow. He smirked as he imagined the enemy commander’s feelings, then concentrated on the battle. They needed to keep inching backwards…

“The minefield is active,” Kevin reported. “A few more minutes and we will be ready to give them such a blow…”

“Let us hope so,” Steve muttered.

Yss!Yaa watched, powerless to affect events, as his ships danced around the human vessels, firing madly into their shields. It was insane! They should have been able to overwhelm the humans with ease, but they simply weren’t cooperating! At least one starship had been lost through another starship nudging it away… right into human sights. It was absolute madness… and yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to call a halt. His people were angry; they wanted blood. Worst of all, he knew, he wouldn’t even be able to penalise the idiots after the battle, because they would look like victors!

I wonder if the humans have these problems , he thought, savagely. He clacked a claw against the side of his throne as a human starship slammed several pulses of energy into his ship’s shields. Unlike his people, the humans seemed to have mastered rotating their shield generators to provide additional protection, damn them. And if they don’t, why not ?

But he knew the answer, even if it wasn’t something he could admit outside his own head. Everyone who might push for change had a strong incentive to keep matters precisely as they were… and everyone who didn’t had no real power to force change, not even him. He might be their leader, but there were limits to his power.

“The enemy is retreating,” the weapons officer said. “They’re trying to pull back.”

Yss!Yaa sighed. “Then take us after them,” he ordered. “Let us put an end to this.”

Steve watched grimly as the alien ships gave chase, pushing forward recklessly to try to claim the kills for themselves. They’d stealthed the minefield as best as they could, using a mixture of human and alien technology, but he had few illusions about just how long the cover would work if the aliens started to really hunt for them.

“The mines are active,” Kevin reported. “I’m supplying them with targeting data directly.”

“Good,” Steve said. If the mines had started to use active sensors of their own, the Horde would have known they were there at once. But by broadcasting targeting data from the starships, the mines could remain passive. “Do they have total lock?”

“Yes,” Kevin said, after a moment. “They’re locked on all remaining Horde starships.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “Fire,” he ordered.

“Energy spike,” the sensor officer snapped. “All around us!”

Yss!Yaa opened his mouth to shout orders, but it was already too late.

The mines were simple enough. Nuclear bombs had been taken from Earth and converted into bomb-pumped lasers, each one capable of stabbing out one single blast of ravenous energy. Unlike a conventional nuclear blast, which would have largely been deflected by a starship’s shields, the needle-like laser struck the force fields and burned right through them.