A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (16 page)

Percy reached out and took her hand.  “Who do I have to kill?”

“It isn't that bad,” Penny assured him, hastily.  “It’s just hard to make any headway when the older reporters guard their posts like ...”

“Dogs in the manger?”  Percy guessed.

“More like hyenas gnawing at carrion,” Penny muttered.  She glowered down at the wooden floor.  “If an assignment is offered that promises fame, expect all of the older reporters to pull strings to get it for themselves.  There’s no real sense of comradeship among the bastards when they are really chasing name recognition, not a tradition of long service.  The ones that reach the very highest levels are practically regarded as little tin gods.  They can get away with practically anything as long as they keep delivering the goods.”

She sighed.  “There’s this bitch who looks like a doll,” she added.  “She keeps saying she was actually assigned to
Ark Royal
, but I don’t believe her.  And yet she keeps getting all the good assignments because she’s got real name recognition.  I don’t have that yet ...”

“Our name is known across the country, if not the world,” Percy pointed out.

“Just for who our father was,” Penny snapped back.  “I’m not known for
myself
.”

She pulled her hand free, then glowered at her brother.  “I’m going to use this assignment to make my name,” she said, firmly.  “And you are not going to get in my way.”

“Just don’t ask me to be interviewed,” Percy said, tiredly.  “And please, watch your back.”

“I always do,” Penny said.  She had picked up the habit at the refugee camp and never really lost it.  “I still shoot every weekend for practice.”

“Make sure you spend some time at the shooting range here,” Percy said.  He sighed.  “Do you have a registered firearm?”

“Not from here,” Penny said.  It hadn't been easy to get the gun permit, even though the government had been practically handing them out like candy after the bombardment.  There just hadn't been enough policemen or soldiers to maintain order over large parts of the country.  “I brought the pistol I got in Newcastle.”

“Get the weapon registered at the shooting range or draw yourself a new one from the armoury,” Percy said.  “No one wants to lose a weapon to the locals - but if we do, we want to know what we lost.  There’s a colossal fine if you lose one and don’t actually report it.”

“I thought there was a colossal fine if you lost the weapon anyway,” Penny said.  She’d been required to place a bond for the pistol before she’d been allowed to buy it.  “Or is it different here.”

Percy smirked.  “You would be astonished just how much equipment is marked down as having being lost during a war,” he said.  “It provides a convenient excuse for ... losing something that actually got lost on exercise, or was shipped elsewhere owing to bureaucratic stupidity.”

“Oh,” Penny said.  She looked her brother in the eye.  “Is it really a problem?”

“We’ve lost quite a few small trinkets,” Percy said.  “I believe they were stolen by some of the local workers while they were building the fort.  Even something minor to us” - he looked around, then nodded at the lantern - “is worth its weight in gold to them.  I think that several datapads crammed with books and movies have gone missing over the last six months.”

Penny blinked.  “You
think
?”

“I know they went missing,” Percy said.  “But I don’t know where they
went
.”

“Well,” Penny said, after a moment.  “I’m sure the Vesy will be
very
interested to see the sort of movies you used to hide on your datapad.”

“You might have a point,” Percy said.  He didn't look as embarrassed as he’d done when their mother had caught him watching porn, Penny noted.  “It would teach them a great deal about human biology.  And some of the books might teach them something about how the human race is governed.”

Penny shook her head.  “The fantasy shit you used to read won’t teach them anything,” she disagreed.  “All those wizards and goblins and things that go bump in the night ...”

“Thrillers will,” Percy said.  “One of the missing datapads had a complete set of books by Brett Mole, the former naval officer who used to write military thrillers about a general war between America and China.  Someone could put together a great deal about the two different systems of government, merely by reading the books.”

“And a great deal about pre-war weapons and tactics,” Penny said.  Brett Mole had retired from the navy and gone into writing well before First Contact.  “But it will be all magic to them, won’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Percy said.  “No amount of reading
Wizards of Wisdom
will teach someone how to use magic, not when the rituals are all nonsensical and there’s no such thing as magic.  But they know our technology works ... and they may make reasoned deductions from what they read.  It could turn into a major problem.”

His eyes narrowed suddenly.  “And they have been fighting each other regularly,” he added, sharply.  “So, again, watch your back.  And keep an eye on your possessions.”

“I will,” Penny promised.  She’d make sure she kept her recorder and communicator with her at all times.  “Now, why don’t you tell me more about the planet and its population?”

“Because there are some things you really have to experience for yourself,” Percy said.  “And I would hate to spoil the surprise.”

Chapter Fifteen

The conference room was as good as Grace and a handful of aides from other human powers could make it, Joelle knew, as she stepped into the room.  But she knew it didn't remotely live up to the standards of conference rooms on Earth.  A large pair of fans blew cold air over the table, which was made from wood and polished until she could practically see her own face reflected in it, while a single smaller table was covered with glasses and large jugs of boiled water.  They’d been warned, more than once, to keep all liquids covered, at least outside of the air-conditioned buildings.  It didn't normally take more than a few minutes for insects to descend on anything uncovered and start devouring it for themselves.

But that isn't a bad thing
, she told herself, as the other diplomats started to file into the room, a handful carrying bug detectors so they could do their own private sweeps. 
It should focus a few minds on where we are, rather than the comforts of Geneva
.

She concealed her amusement with an effort at their appearance.  The black suits and ties were gone, replaced by shorts, slacks and shirts.  None of them looked particularly diplomatic; they looked more like middle-aged men and women going to a holiday resort for the first time in their lives, trying to be hip and yet not having the slightest idea how to pull it off.  Joelle couldn't help thinking, as she took her seat around the round table - carefully designed so that no one appeared to be in charge, or more important than anyone else - that maybe they would actually get something
done
.  Time was not exactly on their side.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, once the last bug sweep had been carried out and everyone had taken a seat, along with a glass of water.  “I apologise for the informality of these rooms, but right now we don’t have better living spaces for humans.”

“There is no need to apologise,” Sam Schultz said.  The American leaned forward, one hand stroking his flaming red beard.  “We quite understand.”

Joelle nodded in relief.  Whatever else they’d done, every interstellar power that had expressed an interest in Vesy had sent a grown-up diplomat, rather than someone who would quite happily delay matters by raising issues with the tables, the food, the staff or anything apart from the issue in question.  Such adult children had played a major role in
delaying
the second mission to Vesy, leading to the chaotic scene in orbit.  But then, she reflected morbidly, it might be precisely what they’d wanted all along.

She took a moment to survey the table.  The Americans and French were allies, although the Americans had an election campaign underway and the French tended to look for their own advantage, first and foremost.  Every other interstellar power did the same, of course, but the French were refreshingly honest about it.  The Indian representative, a dark-skinned woman wearing a pair of white trousers and a tight shirt, might be an opponent, if handled badly; beside her, the Turks and Chinese both looked inscrutable.  Joelle had a feeling the Turks and Indians had conferred previously - British Intelligence was sure that the two minor powers had been quietly collaborating for years - while the Chinese could jump either way.  And who knew just what the Brazilians, Germans and Japanese had in mind?  They’d only sent a single warship apiece.

“I will come right to the point,” she said, mentally throwing the standard diplomatic rulebook out of the airlock.  “There’s no point in trying to quarantine Vesy, not any longer.  Quite apart from the damage the Russians caused, by introducing gunpowder to alien warfare, our own people will not let us.  I have in my hand” - she held up a datapad, waving it in front of them - “a series of requests from hundreds of private interests, ranging from charities to corporations that believe Vesy is an untapped paradise.  It will be impossible to keep them from landing on the planet.”

“Not least because you set up a base yourself, six months ago,” Louis Barouche pointed out, dryly.  The French Ambassador smiled, rather coolly.  “It would seem absurd for you to argue for quarantining Vesy now.”

Translation; you want a share for yourself
, Joelle thought. 

She kept her face impassive.  As far as she could tell, Vesy had nothing to offer apart from raw knowledge, but knowledge could be quite useful when an enterprising company found a way to use it to make money.  It wasn't as if there was any point in strip-mining the entire planet.  What could the planet offer that couldn't be extracted, without so many ethical, legal and practical barriers, from the asteroids drifting in orbit around the star?

“We need to devise a framework for handling such requests in the future, one we can all support,” she continued.  “The current situation is unsustainable.”

“My government’s position is that the Vesy, and the Vesy alone, are masters of their world,” Rani Begum said.  “While we recognise that Russia was the first human state to encounter the Vesy, we do not accept that gives them any claim to the planet or the star system.  The Vesy got there first.”

“Now hold on, wait a minute,” the American snapped.  “The Russians in question were deserters, not representatives of the Russian Government!”

Joelle winced.  Something had happened between Russia and the other Great Powers, something bad, something that had practically led to Russia’s exclusion from the rest of the world.  And yet, she had no idea
what
.  Someone had kept the information so tightly restricted that nothing, not even a peep, had leaked out to the media.  She hated to admit it, but that scared her.  What could convince so many people, from so many different countries, to keep their mouths firmly closed?

And,
she thought,
to hate the Russians at the same time
?

“The point is immaterial,” Barouche said.  “We can all agree, I think, that none of us have a pressing claim to own the system.”

“My government upholds that point,” Rani said.

“My government would agree,” Joelle said.  The public would probably not react well to any attempt to claim Vesy for Britain, not when it was already inhabited by a native non-human race.  “However, the fact remains that the Vesy are simply incapable of preventing human factions from meddling on their world.  Furthermore” - she held up a hand - “they are already badly contaminated.  I do not believe we can prevent it from spreading all over their world.”

“You make it sound as though they have caught a disease,” the American grumbled. 

“On the face of it, my government would not object to setting up a framework for contacting the Vesy,” Rani said.  “However, we insist on maintaining our own contacts with the aliens.”

“I would tend to agree,” Barouche said.

“You mean you wish to gain influence over the system,” the German said.  “You have already landed a considerable amount of supplies at your base.”

“That is correct,” Rani said, simply.  “How many of you” - her dark eyes swept the room - “really do
not
intend to gain influence over the aliens?”

None of us
, Joelle thought, ruefully. 
She’s right
.

“Then let us be careful what we introduce,” Barouche said.  “They are simply not mature enough, as a society, to accept what we give them.”

“They’re not children,” Schultz snapped.  The American leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.  “I believe we shouldn't be
treating
them as children.”

“Tell me,” Barouche said.  “How many of our problems last century came from giving advanced technology to people who were culturally unable to handle the implications?”

Joelle had to smile.  “It wasn't just the Middle East that had problems because of technology’s rapid advancement,” she pointed out.  “The rest of the world had problems too.”

“But everyone else was able to understand and embrace change,” the Frenchman countered.  “The Middle East could not ... and eventually, when we found a way to live without them, we cut them out of the global network.”

“That’s an old argument,” Joelle said.  She'd heard it before from Professor Nordstrom and Grace, who’d fought and refought it time and time again.  “The problem here is that we are not dealing with humans.”

“They test out as roughly equal to us,” Schultz said.  “They’re not
inherently
less intelligent than ourselves.”

“That doesn't mean they have the social experience to cope with new technology,” Barouche snapped.  “You might as well give growth hormones to a baby and expect a mature adult at the end!”

“I believe we are getting away from the point,” Rani said.  Her cool voice cut through the air in a manner Joelle could only admire.  “I assume there is a proposal in mind for a working framework?”

Joelle nodded.  “First, I believe we should place limits on what sort of weapons we supply to the Vesy,” she said.  She glanced briefly at Rani.  “It may be too late to keep from supplying
some
weapons to the locals, but we need to make sure they don’t present a threat to us.  In particular, we would like to ban antiaircraft weapons, long-range missiles, tanks and other systems they do not know - yet - exist.”

“They will,” Schultz pointed out.  “I believe 3 Para has a number of LAVs.”

Light Armoured Vehicles
, Joelle translated, inwardly.  They were thin-skinned, compared to heavy Wellington tanks, but by local standards they were effectively unstoppable. 
And he has a point
.

“It will be far easier to keep the arms race from getting out of control if we
all
agree not to sell tanks,” she said, instead.  “And there is a certain risk inherent in providing weapons to forces that may not be entirely under our control.  It could lead to a diplomatic nightmare.”

She watched their faces as the implications sank in.  Small arms could come from anywhere, everyone knew it.  But heavier systems, even simple antiaircraft weapons, could be traced back to their producer.  And who knew what would happen then, if one such system was used to shoot down a shuttle?  The Indians could get the blame if one of the factions they backed shot down a British shuttle.  It could lead to a major diplomatic crisis, perhaps even a war. 

“We will certainly consider the list of banned systems,” Rani said, finally.

There were nods from around the table.  They were experienced enough, after all, to understand the dangers in providing advanced weapons systems to unreliable aliens.  Better to work together, at least to some extent, rather than cause a major headache for their superiors back home.  Besides, it wouldn't really work against any of them. 

“Second, I believe there should be a flat ban on NGOs supplying weapons to the Vesy,” Joelle continued.  “I also think there should be strict limits on what they can and cannot do on the surface.  Trying to win Vesy converts to their religions might lead to real trouble.”

“I don’t think the President would approve a ban on missionaries,” Schultz said.  The American looked irked at the mere suggestion.  “There is such a thing as religious freedom ...”

“And what will you do,” Rani asked dryly, “if one of your missionaries gets killed and eaten by the locals, merely for daring to question their religion?”

Joelle frowned.  She knew little about the Vesy religions - the marines hadn't really had a chance to do any proper research - but she did know they worshipped multiple gods.  It struck her, suddenly, that the Hindus might have an unfair advantage when it came to talking about religion to the aliens. 
They
shared the concept of multiple gods.

“Good question,” Schultz said.  “I wish I had an answer.”

“You will need one soon,” Rani said.  She looked at Joelle.  “I for one would agree to a ban on weapons, but not on anything else.”

“Then we would need to agree to search ships as they approach Vesy,” Joelle said.  She'd talked it through with Captain Naiser and Colonel Mortimer beforehand and they’d both agreed that the only way to make it work was to search any incoming ships ... which would only be possible if
all
of the powers agreed.  “Inform any newcomers that weapons shipments will not be permitted and search the ships to make sure they’re complying?”