A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (11 page)

He sighed inwardly as the connection broke.  Fort Knight was large, but not large enough to host
everyone
.  They’d need to expand, which would make defending the fort even more of a nightmare.  God alone knew how many groundpounders the Americans had brought, but he couldn't simply hand the fort over to them ...

“Picking up a message from the Indians,” the operator said.  “They want to talk to whoever is in charge.”

Percy nodded.  Moments later, an Indian face appeared in the display.

“This is General Anjeet Patel,” he said.  His voice was curt, too curt.  “Fetch your commanding officer at once, boy.”

“I am in command,” Percy said, fighting down a flash of anger.  He hadn't been addressed in such tones of contempt since he’d started his early training.  “My superiors have yet to relieve me or send reinforcements.”

“How convenient for them,” Patel sneered.  “They can blame any diplomatic mistakes on an officer so young he has yet to learn how to shave.”

Percy forced his voice to remain calm.  “Welcome to Vesy,” he said.  Perhaps the best response to the Indian’s unpleasantness was to ignore it.  “Do you require living space at Fort Knight?”

The Indian puffed up.  “It is the official position of my government that the Vesy and no one else are masters of their homeworld,” he said.  “We do not recognise your claim to control orbital space, nor do we believe you have either the right or the ability to prevent us from forging alliances with alien factions.  Or do you wish to dispute this?”

“No,” Percy said, carefully.  The Indian was right; Percy simply didn’t have the ability to prevent anyone from landing wherever they chose.  “However, in line with Provision Seven of the Outer Space Treaty, please keep us informed of your movements.”

The Indian didn't seem inclined to argue
that
point.  Percy wasn't too surprised.  Provision Seven insisted that all spacefaring powers should notify the others of their movements, at least when moving through crowded orbital space.  Earth’s early days of expansion into space had been marred by the Cold War, where a rocket launch could easily be mistaken for the first strike in a nuclear war.  Since then, all powers had kept the other powers updated, even when the Outer Space Treaty had been largely superseded by the Solar Treaty.

And they won't want to set any precedents that could be used against them later
, Percy thought.  Britain wasn't the only power that had an interest in Vesy. 
Or we might retaliate elsewhere
.

“We will land at once,” Patel said.  “Goodbye.”

His image vanished from the display.  Percy cursed under his breath, wondering just what the Indians were planning, then looked at Peerce.  The Sergeant seemed just as mystified as Percy himself.

“If Ivan wanted you to help him,” Peerce said finally, “the Indians might make him a better offer.”

Percy nodded.  Nine freighters was a significant investment ... and, judging from their ponderous movements as they settled into orbit, they were loaded to the gunwales.  God alone knew how long it would take the Indians to make contact and learn to speak the alien tongue - although it was quite likely they would find aliens who could speak either English or Russian - but once they did, they would definitely have something to trade.  Somehow, judging by Patel’s attitude, he had a feeling the Indians wouldn't hesitate to trade weapons in exchange for political influence.

“Picking up a shuttle launch,” the operator said.

“Track them,” Percy ordered.  The satellite net was pathetic, compared to the networks orbiting Earth, but they should be able to keep an eye on the Indians.  “Let me know where they’re going.”

It was nearly ten minutes before he had an answer.  “They’re heading to City #34,” the operator said.  “We don’t have any contact with them, as far as I know.”

Percy glanced at the map, then nodded.  City #34 was five hundred miles from Fort Knight, just past the edge of the God-King’s empire.  If that was a coincidence, he would eat his dress uniform cap.

“They learned something from the Russians,” Peerce commented, putting Percy’s thoughts into words.  “That
cannot
be a coincidence.”

“It looks that way,” Percy agreed.  The Indians would be making contact with city-states that had heard of off-worlders, but hadn't had any real contact with them or access to advanced weapons.  They’d be hungry for tech and the Indians would be happy to supply.  “It’s going to be a right mess.”

He sighed, then looked at the next wave of starships approaching the planet.  American, French, Chinese ... a hundred NGOs, corporations and media outlets ... and not a single British warship.  He’d lose control very quickly, if he’d even had it in the first place.  The Indians had probably broken the ice, simply by refusing to acknowledge his authority ...

“Keep in touch with as many of the newcomers as possible,” he ordered.  It wouldn't be long before Fort Knight gained a few thousand new citizens.  “And try to convince them to land here.”

But he knew, as he looked at the map, that it wasn't going to happen.

Chapter Ten

Penny Schneider had never really seen the value of a military career.  Her biological father had been called back to the colours at short notice, leaving his family alone, while her adopted father spent most of his time away from Earth.  She had considered a military career, when her brother had joined the Royal Marines, but it had never really appealed to her.  The idea of being a reporter was much more attractive.

It hadn't been easy.  Jobs were in short supply on Earth and she had a feeling that the only thing that had saved her from the labour pool was her name and family connections.  Even so, getting a post as a reporter had required a great deal of luck - and snaring the assignment to HMS
Warspite
as an embedded reporter had probably relied on her family connections, no matter how embarrassing she found them.  But then, with a brother who was already on Vesy and an adoptive father who might become First Space Lord one day, she was better-placed to gain a scoop than most of the other reporters. 

She sighed to herself as she checked her equipment, then tapped the buzzer outside the Captain’s cabin.  She’d been given nearly unrestricted access to
Warspite,
but interviewing crewmen had seemed rather pointless after the first couple of interviews turned up nothing of great interest.  The crewmen and marines seemed more interested in flirting with her than giving her a scoop, although she had to admit it was unlikely they had anything new to offer after endless interviews on Earth.  It was hard to find a crewman from the first cruise who hadn't been plastered across the datanets, their names and faces public knowledge.  In hindsight, she couldn't help wondering if she’d been tricked.

But nothing has really happened yet
, she thought. 

She shook her head as the hatch slid open, dismissing the thought. 
Warspite
had made three jumps, progressing up the tramline chain towards Vesy; nothing could reasonably be expected to happen until they actually reached their destination.  Then, she hoped and prayed, her attachment to the ambassador would pay off.  A solid story from Vesy would make her career, putting her beyond the charge of using connections to force her way onto the staff; hell, if she acquired a reputation for working on Vesy, she would be the go-to girl for future assignments.  It was definitely something worth aiming for.

And won’t Percy be surprised to see me
, she thought, as she stepped through the hatch. 
His little sister all grown up
.

The thought made her smile.  Percy had been annoying, in the way of older brothers to younger sisters since time immemorial, right up until the moment their lives had been turned upside down by tidal waves.  Their mother had been lost, somewhere in the chaos - it hadn't been until much later that Penny had realised that their so-perfect mother had been having an affair - while they’d had to struggle to survive.  And Percy, annoying Percy, had become terribly over-protective.  Not that Penny really blamed him, not after their parents had died; they’d only ever had each other.  But it had grown more and more wearying as she’d grown older and finally found a place for herself.

“Miss Schneider,” the Captain said, breaking into her thoughts.  “I believe you requested an interview?”

“Yes, thank you,” Penny said. 

She stepped forward, the hatch closing behind her, and looked around the Captain’s cabin.  It was larger than the compartment she was sharing with a midshipwoman, but not by much.  The bulkheads were bare, save for one that was covered in medals, commissioning papers and a large photograph of Captain Naiser with another man.  He’d been quite handsome as a young man, Penny decided, before the war had overwhelmed him.  Now, there was something in his blue eyes that suggested he wasn't quite the same.

“Please, take a seat,” the Captain said.  “I do hope you recall the rules concerning media interviews?”

“Of course,” Penny said, nettled.  She’d paid close attention to the briefings, after all; the briefing officers had been trying to tell her how to stay alive in space.  “The recordings will be run past the censors first, before being released on Earth, even though we’re not at war.”

“Good,” the Captain said.  He sat on a comfortable armchair, watching her through cold blue eyes as she set up her recorder.  “You never know what will prove important to enemy intelligence agents until it does.”

Penny scowled.  “Off the record,” she said, “why is it that everyone treats reporters as enemy spies?”

The Captain snorted.  “Off the record?  Reporters, as a general rule, are more concerned with snatching the latest scoop than thinking about the consequences of releasing their scoop.  It doesn't take much imagination to realise that they might tell the enemy something useful, then hide behind claims of freedom of the press.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Penny insisted.  “My brother is at risk!  And my adopted father.”

“Reporters are often incapable of judging what is and what isn't sensitive material,” the Captain pointed out.  “I could tell you a hundred facts about
Warspite
, but would you be able to tell which of them are classified?”

Penny scowled, again.  “Point taken.”

She finished setting up her recorder, then tapped a switch.  “Preliminary background interview with Captain John Naiser, 23rd March 2207 at 1745,” she said, for the record.  It was a habit she’d never managed to lose, even though the recorder would attach date and time metadata to the recording.  “Subject: alien contact.”

The recorder clicked once, in acknowledgement.  It was larger than it needed to be, she knew, but reporters had discovered over the years that using a device that was clearly visible tended to work better than something so microscopic that it couldn’t be seen with the naked eye.  Besides, there had been quite a few lawsuits when people had been recorded without their permission, some of which had resulted in massive payouts.

“Captain,” she said.  “How much can you tell me about your early life?”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been said a thousand times,” the Captain said.  “My life was thoroughly dissected on the datanet after we returned from Vesy.”

Penny groaned, inwardly.  She should have expected that reaction.  It was hard, very hard, to move through modern life without leaving an electronic trail, although the bombardment had erased quite a few records from existence.  The Captain might not have been Prince Henry or Princess Janelle, but it wouldn't have been hard for the reporters to uncover his early life and expose it to the world.  It helped that he’d been one of the heroes of the war who hadn't gone down with
Ark Royal
.

She gave him a pleading smile.  “You can't tell me something no one else knows?”

“I don’t think so,” the Captain said.  He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort.  “I was a perfectly ordinary child, then a perfectly ordinary starfighter pilot, then a war hero ...”

Penny seized on that, quickly.  “Do you feel you deserved to be feted?”

“I wasn't the only hero of the war,” the Captain said.  “I did my duty and that was all there was to it.”

“I understand,” Penny said.  Her father -
both
of her fathers - had rarely talked about their service, but she knew they’d both had nightmares.  “What do you believe we should do about the Vesy?”

The Captain didn't seem thrown by the sudden change in subject.  “My personal opinion is that we should quarantine their world and leave them to develop on their own,” he said, flatly.  “Nothing good can come of us meddling in their affairs.  Let them develop on their own until they build starships, then they can meet us on even terms.”

“But by then our starships will be even more advanced,” Penny pointed out.  “I’m sure
Warspite
could smash the first starships to jump through the tramlines with ease.”

“Yes, she could,” the Captain agreed.  “But the crews of those ships knew much - much - more about the universe than the Vesy.  The difference between their vessels and
Warspite
isn't really that great, nor is anything we have truly beyond their comprehension.  For the Vesy, the gulf between us and them is so great as to be unimaginable.  It will take them centuries to develop all the theories we have discovered and then progress past them to join us on an equal level.”

“They need to make the theories to make the theories,” Penny said.  She paused.  “If that makes any kind of sense.”

“It does,” the Captain assured her.

Penny considered it, slowly.  The Captain seemed content to wait for the next question, rather than volunteer information or ask her to hurry up.  In truth, she wasn't sure what to say, let alone ask.  The Captain wouldn't be impressed if she asked for more information that was already in the public domain.  A more experienced reporter, she was sure, would have found better questions to ask.

“My brother is still on Vesy,” she said, slowly.  “Did you intend to leave him there for so long?”

The Captain looked irked.  “No,” he said.  “I had hoped a ship would be dispatched earlier, perhaps before other nations launched their own ships.  Six months on an alien world would be pushing their endurance to the limit.”

Penny blinked in alarm.  She might have found Percy irritating, at times, but she didn’t want him
dead
.  The thought of something killing her brother was unthinkable ... and he might be dead now, only they would never know.  How could they know when no ship had visited Vesy since
Warspite
had left?

“I’m sure he’s fine,” the Captain said, reading her expression.  “The Royal Marines are tough.”

“I couldn't help noticing that 3 Para has been dispatched to Vesy,” Penny said, fighting to keep her voice under control.  “Do you expect trouble?”

“It is normally a good idea to prepare for trouble, even if you don’t expect it,” the Captain said, flatly.  “Having forces on the ground might be necessary if something goes badly wrong.”

Penny frowned.  “The Vesy might rise up against us?”

“Or someone might provoke them into attacking a smaller human group,” the Captain countered.  “I really don’t like the idea of missionaries going out among the Vesy.  They are unlikely to be welcomed, particularly when they’re not offering anything beyond the word of god.”

“I see,” Penny said.  She took a breath.  “When we get there, Captain, what do you intend to do?”

“It depends on what we find when we get there,” the Captain said.  “If we’re the first to arrive, we will set up on the surface and make contact with the Vesy factions; if we’re not, we will proceed as we think best.  A great deal depends on just how the other nations react to the Vesy.”

Penny let out a breath, then made a show of clicking the recorder off.  “And myself?”

The Captain shrugged.  “I believe you are, technically, embedded with the ambassador, rather than my ship,” he said.  “If you want to go down to the surface, you may go with her - or, if you wish, go on tour if the Vesy are willing to show you around.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Penny said.  She clicked the recorder back on.  “Now, do you feel that
Warspite
represents a whole new model of warfare ...?”

***

“We have four days until we reach Vesy,” Colonel John Mortimer said, once the ambassadorial staff had gathered in the compartment.  “It is as good a time as any to go over the mission-specific protective details, all the more so as we lack a Foreign Office close-protection detail.  They have chosen to pass those responsibilities to the Paras.”

Joelle frowned, inwardly.  It hadn’t been her choice, and she’d argued against it, but the Foreign Office had been insistent.  The dedicated close-protection teams, who had watched over British diplomats for years, were to be replaced with heavily-armed Paras from the Parachute Regiment.  Perhaps it was a good idea - she’d seen the videos of the final battle on Vesy - but the Paras weren't trained in keeping a low profile.  Their mere presence could be considered provocative.

“You may not approve of that decision,” Mortimer continued, as if he’d read her thoughts.  “I advise you, however, to accept it.  The Paras are highly-trained soldiers who may be precisely what you need to get out of trouble, should you get into it.  However, the person who is principally responsible for taking care of yourself is yourself.”