“Continue firing until we have drained our magazines to thirty percent,” Ted ordered.  He was tempted to throw everything he had at the aliens, but he knew the value of keeping a reserve.  It was unlikely that all of the alien craft would be destroyed by the bombardment.  “Launch the unpowered missiles.”

He gritted his teeth.  It went against the grain to launch unpowered missiles – they had many of the risks of using mass drivers, without some of the advantages – but there was no choice.  Unlike the alien fleet, the starships they had covering the planet seemed to alter course randomly, as if they knew they were being observed.  The missiles, when they went active, would be able to alter their courses to bring them to bear on the alien ships.  None of the mass driver projectiles could be so flexible.

But they're also expensive, he thought, thinking wistfully of the battleship designs he’d seen during the extensive debriefings following their first encounter with the alien forces.  Given a few years, we will have entire starships crammed with mass drivers ... and lose some of the flexibility in having missiles.

The stream of projectiles came to an end.  “We’ve reached thirty percent of our stockpiles,” Farley reported.  “Holding fire.”

“Good,” Ted muttered.  He raised his voice, fighting the urge to whisper.  “Take us out on the pre-planned course.”

The downside of ballistic projectiles was that they didn't change course.  Given a few moments, the aliens could easily project their course backwards and locate Ark Royal.  But, once they'd moved, the aliens would be wasting their effort ... or so he hoped.

He shook his head.  Now, all they had to do was wait ... and see how the aliens reacted.  He tried to form a mental picture of their entire fleet smashed, like bugs, but he knew it wasn't likely to happen.  They’d be lucky if they crippled or destroyed more than a carrier or two.  “And the Russians?”

“They’re on their way,” Farley confirmed.

Poor brave stupid idiots, Ted thought.  The odds against the Russians making it to the surface were staggering – and that assumed that the diversionary plan worked perfectly.  If it didn't ... somehow, Ted doubted the aliens would just ignore a mystery heat trail burning through the planet’s atmosphere.  A single plasma blast would vaporise the Russian commandos, along with their fancy suits and re-entry gear.

He shook his head.  All they could do now was wait.

***

“So the attack is underway,” Yang said.  “The aliens have no idea we’re here?”

“So it would seem,” James agreed.  Yang, at least, understood some of the implications.  And he was smart enough not to demand immediate results.  Space was big and – he glanced at the timer – there would still be several hours before they knew what, if anything, they’d hit.  “They certainly haven’t ambushed us, even when we moved away from the tramline.”