Kurt winced as the starfighter rocketed out the launch tube and into open space, followed rapidly by the rest of his pilots.  Ahead of them, one cluster of alien fighters rested on the tramline; behind them, a colossal cloud of alien starfighters was catching up rapidly with the flotilla.  There were so many of them that the sensors seemed to be having problems picking individual starfighters out of the cloud.  Kurt had never seen so many starfighters outside exercises and flying displays for the King’s birthday.

“Wonderful,” Rose said.  She sounded better, now they were in open space with an enemy force bearing down on them.  They could take their frustration out on the enemy pilots.  “I make it twenty enemy fighters each.  We’ll all be aces by the time this is done.”

“True,” Kurt agreed.  “Alpha and Beta squadrons; break up the enemy formation.  Delta and Gamma, mind the carrier.”

The starfighters rocketed forwards, slipping past the frigates moving into intercept positions.  Kurt scowled at them, hoping and praying that the IFF systems worked perfectly, even though he feared they wouldn’t.  It was bad enough with British systems alone, but when several other nations were involved ... he gritted his teeth.  In hindsight, the strongest argument against there being any foreknowledge of the alien attack was that there had been no attempt to ensure that all human technology was compatible.

But if someone had tried, he thought, would it have been accepted?

He pushed the thought aside as his squadron raced towards the alien craft at a staggering closing speed.  Quickly, he flipped his weapons on to automatic – he'd have to gamble that the computers didn't accidentally take a shot at an allied starfighter – then braced himself, keeping his starfighter on a random course.  It seemed only seconds before the guns started chattering away, spitting out tiny balls of metal towards the alien fighters.  Kurt saw a handful of icons vanish from the display, only to be replaced instantly by other alien craft.  His starfighters weren't replaced so quickly ...

“Alpha-five and Alpha-seven are gone,” Alpha-nine reported.  Kurt hadn't even seen Alpha-seven die.  “Alpha-three is disabled ...”

Lucky bastard, Kurt thought.  A fluke, a million-to-one shot that had damaged a starfighter, rather than destroying it outright.  Behind him, the alien starfighters disengaged and roared towards the flotilla.  Cursing, he yanked his starfighter around and gave chase, while Delta and Gamma squadrons rose up to cover the carrier.  There were so many alien starfighters that some of them were almost certain to get through.

***

“Incoming starfighters,” Farley reported.  “Weapons range in thirty seconds.”