A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (13 page)

It would be more than that, he knew.  His freighters held enough prefabricated components to put a small fortress together on alien soil.  If things went sour, they would be able to hold out indefinitely against the best the aliens could do ... or shelter while they called in KEW strikes from orbit to obliterate the imprudent aliens.

He looked at the veiled alien, once again, then took a gamble.  “Who are you?”

There was a long pause, then the alien pulled back his hood to reveal a pale human face.  It wasn't familiar - the Russians had refused to provide lists of potential deserters on Vesy - but that hardly mattered.  All that mattered was that the Russian had spent the last six months trapped among the Vesy, learning more about them than anyone else.

“I am surprised the Indian Government was the first to send ships,” the Russian said, in poor English.  “The British should have been able to take the lead.”

“There were too many political battles on Earth,” Anjeet explained.  “And to whom do I have the pleasure of talking?”

The Russian clammed up.  Anjeet felt his patience start to fray. 

“Your comrades have been shot for desertion and various other crimes, chief amongst them embarrassing their government,” Anjeet lied smoothly.  In truth, the surviving Russians were being milked of everything they knew about the Vesy.  “However, I need someone with experience of talking to the aliens on their terms.  Come work for me and I will ensure you leave with a new identity and a small fortune.”

The Russian eyed him, darkly.  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t,” Anjeet said, wondering if the Russian had cracked.  Six months without seeing another human face, six months surrounded by aliens who might easily turn on him at any moment ... it was enough to drive anyone insane.  “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life here?”

He watched the Russian closely, wondering just which way the man would jump.  It would be easy enough to trade additional weapons or ammunition for the Russian, if he demanded to stay with the Vesy, and the Russian had to know it.  Or, even if the Indians showed no further interest in him, his own government would want his head.  Embarrassing the Russian Government carried a death sentence, particularly now.  Anjeet had no idea
just
why the other Great Powers had practically sent the Russians to Coventry, without supplying any of the aid they’d promised as part of the peace deal, but the Russians were clearly furious about it.

“My name is Nikolai Petrovich Zaprudnyi,” the Russian said, finally.  “I was an advisor to the Vesy when ... when the base was captured by the British.  The Vesy I was with were captured by another city-state, who took me and sold me onwards.”

Anjeet nodded.  He didn't blame the Russian for not trying to escape his captors.  Where would he go?  The British would be supremely unwelcoming and there were no other human bases on the planet, at least as far as he knew.  Now ... absently, he made a note to ensure that Zaprudnyi was properly debriefed.  He could tell the Indians more about local politics than they could hope to find out for themselves.

“We’ll buy him off you,” he said, to the Vesy.  Slavery was legal on Vesy, after all, and they’d bought Zaprudnyi from his former captors.  “I can offer an extra 1000 rounds of ammunition for him ...”

Another long haggling session followed.  The Vesy had relied on Zaprudnyi to tell them about humanity, it seemed, and they weren't keen to let go of him.  Anjeet didn't really blame them, but he needed the Russian himself.  In the end, Zaprudnyi was sold to the Indians for 3000 rounds of ammunition and a handful of radios.  Faster communication between the city-state - which Zaprudnyi insisted was called something that translated as Flowering Spring - and its armies would only help their expansion.  It would probably also lead to micromanagement, Anjeet considered, but it was something he would leave them to find out on their own.

“Thank you,” Zaprudnyi said, when the aliens were shown out the hatch.  “I ... I thank you for saving my life.  They would have killed me eventually.”

“You’re welcome,” Anjeet said.  “My intelligence officers will debrief you,
thoroughly
.  Tell them everything they want to know; indeed, help them as much as possible.”

He paused.  “Why did they bring you with them?”

“They wanted my impressions of the shuttle and your offers,” Zaprudnyi said.  “I told them to take what they could get.”

“Excellent advice,” Anjeet said, dryly.  The shuttle rocked as the pilot prepared to move to the land he’d purchased at such high cost.  “And I’m sure you will be very helpful in the future.”

Chapter Twelve

“Transit complete, Captain,” Armstrong said.

John nodded in relief.  The passage through Pegasus had been slower than he’d expected, as they’d needed to hold a long-range conversation with Governor Brown and his team of experts.  Unsurprisingly, Brown had complained - hugely - about diverting so much material from his supplies to Vesy, while Captain Minion had been forced to remain at Pegasus, rather than spread his ships between the two systems.  It had boded ill for the future.

“Send a standard IFF pulse to the satellite network,” he ordered, shortly.  “And then take us towards the planet, best possible formation speed.”

“Captain,” Lieutenant Gillian Forbes said.  “I’m picking up multiple IFF signals orbiting Vesy, sir, and several more in the out-system.”

John swore, mentally.  “How many?”

“At least thirty orbiting the planet itself,” Gillian said.  She worked her console for a long moment.  “I’m picking up Indian, American, French, Israeli and Turkish signals, sir.”

We were beaten here
, John thought, bitterly.  It wasn't entirely unexpected, given how badly the political debate had broken down, but he’d hoped to get to the planet before anyone else could arrive and complicate matters. 
God alone knows what’s happening on the surface
.

He frowned, thinking hard.  It was a minimum of seven hours to Vesy at their current speed, as the freighters couldn't hope to match
Warspite’s
acceleration.  He could shave that in half by leaving the destroyers with the freighters - and the troop transport - but that would make him look frantic.  And he
would
be frantic.  It didn't
look
as through the various newcomers had started a fight, either with Fort Knight or each other, and he had no legal right to deny them access to Vesy.  God alone knew who would win
that
debate in the World Court.

Because if we follow the standard rules
, he thought,
either the Vesy hold the legal right to tell us all to fuck off ... or the Russians own the system.  Neither one will please the Admiralty
.

“Send them all a standard greeting,” he ordered, finally.  “And then send a message to Fort Knight, requesting a complete update.”

“Aye, sir,” Gillian said.

John tapped his console, sending Ambassador Richardson a brief update, then scrutinised the display as it started to fill with more and more icons.  The Indians seemed to be the largest presence - they had sixteen ships orbiting the planet, five of them warships and one of them a heavy troop transport that had only just entered service.  It was possible, John had to admit, that they’d scooped up a small army of researchers and stowed them onboard the transport, but it didn't seem likely.  He had a feeling the Indians had brought a considerable number of troops to show that they had no intention of allowing anyone else to dictate to them.  Beyond them, there were three American ships, one French ship and a number of others that had been chartered by various NGOs, religious organisations and the media. 

And there are several survey ships operating in the system
, he thought, grimly. 
Looking for asteroids to mine, setting up a cloudscoop ... or what
?

His console chirped.  Moments later, Joelle Richardson’s face appeared in the display.

“Captain,” she said.  “It appears we were beaten to the planet.”

“That would appear to be the case,” John agreed.  They were too far out to tell if the newcomers were sending shuttles to the surface or not, but he wouldn't have bet against it, not when whoever made a deal with the Vesy first would have an edge against everyone else.  “There are at least three governments represented here, as well as a number of other interested parties.”

“So I see,” the Ambassador said.  “Can we get to Fort Knight without being intercepted?”

John blinked.  “I don’t believe that any of the powers represented here will try to keep us away from the planet,” he said.  “But, at the same time, we cannot police the entire system and keep
them
from landing, if they haven’t done so already.”

“I understand,” the Ambassador said.  She paused, thinking hard.  “With your permission, Captain, I would like to send signals to the other nationalities, requesting a conference to discuss a joint approach to Vesy.”

“Granted,” John said.  He had no grounds to deny the request, even if he’d wished to.  “I should warn you, however, that our ability to enforce our position is very limited.  Some of the nations represented here are our allies.”

The Ambassador frowned, then cut the connection.  Her face vanished from the display, which blinked back to showing the squadron following
Warspite
like ducks following their mother.  John’s lips twitched at the mental image, then he looked at his first officer.  Howard was looking as concerned as John felt.  They’d sketched out contingency plans for discovering they weren't the first to return to Vesy, but it had been impossible to guess at just which way things would go.  The presence of so many Indian ships was a nasty surprise.

The Indians have always had a chip on their shoulder
, John thought.  He’d served with Indians, during the final months of the war, and they’d struck him as having something to prove. 
And they do have a colony in the same general direction.  But what do they want from Vesy
?

“Inform Captain Hadfield and Lieutenant-Colonel Boone that the situation isn't what we hoped for,” he ordered, quietly.  “We have yet to receive any updates from the surface.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said.

John frowned, inwardly.  The original plans would definitely have to be scrapped.  He’d hoped to deploy 3 Para to Fort Knight, then allow the diplomats to make contact with the aliens in a single location where they could be protected.  But now, with other governments, NGOs and religious factions running around, it would be impossible.  If nothing else, they’d have to coordinate long enough to prevent accidental clashes between the different groups. 

“Captain,” Gillian said.  “I just received a secure datapacket from Fort Knight.”

“Transfer it to my console,” John ordered.  He knew he should probably get some rest - it would be at least five hours before anything happened - but he couldn't bring himself to leave the bridge.  “And then copy it to the Ambassador and Captain Hadfield.”

He tapped his console, opening the datapacket.  Percy Schneider had been in command of Fort Knight for far too long, given his extremely low rank, but at least he’d managed to get his motley crew through the wait unharmed.  Fort Knight wasn't quite where he’d expected it to be, but as he read on, he saw why.  The handful of engineers and prefabricated equipment the marines had been able to obtain from Pegasus hadn't been sufficient to transfer everything to the planned location. 

We muddled through
, he thought, sourly.  If they'd known they were going to be encountering aliens, he rather suspected the Admiralty would have doubled the supplies sent to Pegasus; instead, they’d had to strip one system of vital resources to maintain a base in another system.  It had been sheer luck that the consequences hadn't been much worse. 
But the long-term effects might be unpleasant
.

The diplomatic section of the report pulled no punches.  Thankfully, the Americans and French - and most of the NGOs - had agreed to operate from Fort Knight, but the Indians and a handful of NGOs had flatly refused to have anything to do with the British.  Percy Schneider had monitored the Indian activities as best as he could, noting that they’d clearly started to establish a base four hundred kilometres from Fort Knight and, he assumed, make contact with the local aliens.  But he knew nothing else about their plans.

Shit
, John thought.  He cursed the diplomats under his breath.  Would it really have been so politically incorrect to dispatch another warship or two to Vesy as soon as
Warspite
returned to Earth? 
We won’t be able to convince them to change their posture now.

“Keep us on our current course,” he ordered, as he started to skim through the more detailed sections of the report.  There was no point in trying to increase speed and get there sooner, not when there were so many problems.  “Once we’re in orbit, the first teams can head down to Fort Knight.”

He glanced at the timestamp on the report and frowned.  Five days.  Five days between the arrival of the Indians - and the others - and
Warspite
and her squadron.  Five days.  And if they’d left even a week earlier, they would have beaten everyone else easily. 

Captain Hadfield - he’d been promoted after
Warspite’s
return to Earth - popped up in John’s display.  “Captain,” he said.  “The situation is not optimal, but Wilson and I believe we can proceed with the planned landing.”

“Understood,” John said.  “However, it will need to be coordinated to avoid running into the other powers.  I believe most of them will have brought their own guards too.”

“Yes, sir,” Hadfield said.  “We do have practice operating with the Americans and French.”

“And the Indians have landed well away from Fort Knight,” John agreed.  “Very well; prepare your troops for deployment once we enter orbit.”

He sighed as the connection closed.  Five hours to orbit and then ...?  He had a feeling, somehow, that the ambassador and her staff were going to be earning their pay.

***

“That’s the shuttle inbound, sir,” the operator said.

“Thank you,” Percy said.  “I’ll meet them at the shuttlepad.”

He took one last look at the office he’d made for himself, then walked out the door and down towards the gates.  He’d been relieved beyond measure when the next group of arrivals had proved to be a British squadron, then terrified when he’d been sent a private message informing him that
Captain
Hadfield and Lieutenant-Colonel Wilson Boone of 3 Para were on their way - and that the first order of business was a long chat with Percy about his conduct during the six months he’d been cut off from Earth.  Somehow, Percy expected that it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation.

But there will be mail,
he reminded himself.  It was a consolation, of sorts. 
Maybe not physical mail, but definitely recorded messages.

The shuttlepad had been built by the Vesy to Percy’s specifications, he recalled, as he watched the shuttle land neatly in front of him.  A line of Paras jumped out, weapons in hand, and surveyed the scene for possible threats.  Percy couldn't help noticing that some of them stared at the Vesy labourers, watching from a safe distance, as if they’d never quite believed in them, no matter how many visual images they’d seen.  Five years after the war, it was still hard for some people to grasp the existence of one alien race, let alone a second.  Percy and his men had grown used to the sight through long experience, but it would be a while before the Paras were truly used to the Vesy.  He just hoped there weren't any unfortunate incidents before they learned how to survive on the alien world.

Behind them, Captain Hadfield emerged from the shuttle, wearing light armour and carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder.  His face was expressionless, but Percy couldn't help suspecting that he was privately annoyed as he examined the buildings just outside the walls.  If
Percy
could see them as a problem, the far more experienced Hadfield would have no difficulty in doing the same.  And Lieutenant-Colonel Boone had more experience than Percy’s entire section put together.

And the Paras have always picked fights with us
, he thought, feeling his heart sinking. 
Boone will happily remind the Captain about my failures for the rest of the deployment
.

“Corporal,” Hadfield said, as Percy saluted them both.  “Show us the office.”

“This way, sir,” Percy said.

He led them through the gates, then into the small office.  It looked cramped to them, he was sure; a single metal table, a pair of metal chairs and a small terminal perched on the table.  But then, he hadn't spent much time in it; he’d needed to do too many things to allow himself to become shut away in the room.  Maybe Boone would want a bigger office.  The diplomats certainly would.