The enemy starfighters looked as if they weren't even bothering to try to hold a formation.  A civilian pair of eyes would have thought the pilots were drunk or incompetent, but experienced starfighter pilots knew better.  Predicable flight paths meant certain death for the pilots; the enemy were jinking around like mad, even as they approached Ark Royal’s defenders.  Long-range shots would almost certainly do nothing more than alarm them – and accomplish that much only if they were not experienced enough to know that the odds of being hit were almost non-existent.

Spitfires didn't look anything like their famous namesakes from the Battle of Britain.  They were spherical craft, bristling with weapons and drive thrusters that could push them in any direction.  Spacecraft didn't have to be bound by the laws governing jet aircraft in planetary atmospheres, after all.  It was impossible to build a starfighter that also functioned as a jet fighter to engage targets on the ground.

“Mark,” he ordered.  “Now!”

The starfighters jinked, then opened fire as the enemy came into range.  Kurt watched grimly as the enemy concentrated on blowing through the defending formation, instead of trying to hunt them down one by one.  It suggested, part of his mind noted, that they were armed with anti-carrier missiles rather than being configured to sweep space clean of hostile starfighters.  But they still carried chain guns of their own, ready to take shots at any starfighter that presented itself as a target.  Kurt cursed under his breath as two of his pilots died, followed by five enemy fighters.  The remainder accelerated towards Ark Royal, forcing the defenders to give chase.

We’re rusty, he thought, sourly.  Two weeks of intensive practice had allowed the pilots to recover their skills, but none of them had worked together before being assigned to Ark Royal.  It didn't help that some of the reservists hadn't set foot on a carrier for years, let alone flown a starfighter.  If they were being graded, Kurt suspected, the entire unit would have been relieved of duty and probably broken up completely.  But instead they might have to face a mysterious alien foe ...

The enemy starfighters didn't flinch as they flew into the teeth of Ark Royal’s point defence.  Instead, they launched missiles towards the carrier, then tried to break free before it was too late, scattering randomly as they fled.  Kurt cursed again as four of the missiles struck home, nuclear warheads detonating against the ship’s hull.  Moments later, it was all over.

“End exercise,” he ordered, quietly.  Ark Royal was tough, armoured in a way no modern carrier was armoured, but even she couldn't survive four nuclear blasts in quick succession.  Even a single direct hit would have been alarming; if nothing else, it would damage the network of sensors and weapons mounted on the ship’s hull.  “Return to base; I say again, return to base.”