James looked down at the display, silently weighing up the potential vectors.  Just how much endurance did the alien starfighters have?  There was no way to know, which meant any estimates of the location of their carrier were nothing more than guesses at best.  For all they knew, the alien starfighters could travel for hours before needing to replenish their supplies.

“If they found us here, they have to know where we’re going,” James mused.  “They could have ambushed us at New Russia instead.”

“True,” the Captain agreed.  On the display, the first squadron of alien starfighters was breaking up, skimming along the edge of the flotilla.  “Go to the CIC and take command there.  If we lose the bridge ...”

James nodded and left the compartment.  Outside, much to his astonishment, he ran into a pair of reporters.  Were they actually trying to sneak onto the bridge during a battle?

“Get back to your quarters,” he snapped.  There was no point in trying to show them to the secondary bridge, not now.  “Get back there or the Marines will escort you to the brig.”

The reporters hesitated, then fled.

***

Kurt gritted his teeth as the starfighter was blasted out of the launch tube and into interplanetary space.  He checked the display briefly to make sure that the entire wing had launched from the carrier, then refocused his systems on the alien starfighters.  They seemed to be dodging and dancing at the edge of weapons range, rather than pressing the offensive against the human ships.  It made no sense to him until he realised that they were trying to get hard sensor locks of their own, pinning down the human ships.

“Alpha squadron, with me,” he ordered, visions of an alien mass driver running through his head.  Ark Royal was tough, but not that tough.  “We need to drive those bastards away from the carrier.”

He heard the acknowledgements as he led the flight towards the alien starfighters.  As before, they didn't seem as capable as his own starfighters, although that might not make a difference if there was enough of them.  The aliens hesitated, then ducked back towards the second flight of their starfighters, concentrating their forces.  Moments later, they turned and raced towards the outer edge of the flotilla.  Kurt switched his targeting systems to full power, then gunned his engine and roared towards them.  At such speeds, they entered firing range within seconds.

“Two targets down,” Alpha Three reported.  The computers had to handle the firing.  No human mind could handle an engagement at such speeds.  “One more broke off.  I might have winged him.”