A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (20 page)

“Very well,” Thompson said, grudgingly.  “In the interests of saving the Vesy from selfish human interests.”

“Thank you,” John said.  “Major Hadfield?  Escort him out and hold him in the shuttlebay until I have finished speaking to Captain Samsun.”

He watched Thompson leave, escorted by two burly Marines, and then looked at Samsun.  “Long trip?”

“The longest,” Samsun said.  He looked tired and worn.  “If I’d realised just how much of a problem they would be, I would have let the damned bankers take my ship.  No
wonder
hardly anyone else wanted them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” John said, sincerely.  “And I’m sorry I may have caused you problems with your government.”

“They will probably lodge a protest,” Samsun said.  He smiled, rather wanly.  “And if I had more energy, I would be screaming the place down.”

“I wouldn't blame you,” John assured him.  “What do they
want
?”

“They see themselves as being on a religious mission, only without god,” Samsun said.  “If I never hear another lecture on the duties and obligations of the human race to our alien brothers, I will be happy.  I think they’re in for a nasty shock.”

“Quite probably,” John agreed. 

He smiled, rather tiredly.  The sacrifice had been the first major glimpse into the Vesy society, the first sign that the Vesy played by very different rules to modern humanity, but it hadn't been the last.  One reporter had recorded a long ceremony where the slaves were formally declared enemies of the state, something that had reminded John of Sparta and the Helots.  After they’d completed the ceremony, each of the slaves - bound in iron chains - had been whipped, then put back to work.  Some of the reporters had even started to file stories suggesting that the only true solution was for the human race to take over completely.

And that won’t go down well at home
, John thought. 
God knows we have enough problems without trying to invade an alien world
.

“Tell me something,” Samsun said.  “Can I just abandon them here?”

“I don’t know,” John said, after a moment.  Was that a joke ... or was he serious?  “What does your contract say?”

“It’s a little vague,” Samsun admitted.  “I was merely hired to take them to Vesy.”

“Then you can, it would seem,” John said.  “I’d make sure they have somewhere to stay first, though.  You probably don’t want to be hit with a lawsuit implying that you abandoned them to the wolves.”

“Or to the Vesy,” Samsun agreed.  He lowered his voice.  “Captain, between you and me, they were talking about doing more end runs around any governmental presence on the surface.  I think they may have brought Apocalypse Files too.”

John blinked in surprise.  Apocalypse Files had been common during the Age of Unrest, even though they’d never been necessary.  They were nothing more than instructions for rebuilding civilisation from scratch, assuming a nuclear war or a biological plague that exterminated much of the human race, but they were fantastically detailed.  John had seen copies in the British Library, back when he’d been a student.  Now, they were rewritten and dispatched to colony worlds, just in case something happened to Earth.  It would have seemed pointless if the human race hadn't run into the Tadpoles.

“Good thinking on their part,” John said.  It wasn't as if Apocalypse Files were hard to find, let alone copy.  Most of them were firmly in the public domain.  “They could build on what the Russians introduced, even without further interference from outside powers.”

And they will have to be confiscated, if they exist
, he thought, inwardly.  He made a mental note to order Fort Knight to check everything when the Brothers landed. 
They’d put too much information in alien hands
.

He sighed, then rose.  “I’m sorry you had to endure their presence,” he added, “but you
did
take their money.  Where do you think it came from, by the way?”

“I have no idea,” Samsun said, as he rose too.  “The Bank of Ceres confirmed they had the cash to pay, up front, for a trip to Vesy, so I didn't much care.”

John nodded.  Ceres had a banking sector that made Switzerland or the Cayman Islands look transparent, a legacy of the trouble the asteroids had had breaking free of their founder corporations.  The Brothers could have got their money from anywhere and then funnelled it through Ceres, if they wanted to obscure the source.  A few rich idiots, a pound or two apiece from millions of people ... there was no way to know.

Perhaps we should find out
, John thought. 
That freighter-load of goods must have cost well over a million pounds
.

“Drop them off at Vesy, then go home,” John advised.  Under the circumstances, it would be hard to blame Samsun for not sticking around.  Lurking in orbit wouldn't shift cargo, unless there were some goods to go home.  “The Marines will escort you back to your ship.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Samsun said.

John watched him go, then sat down at the desk.  The Brothers had chartered two ships, one from Israel and one from Ceres; the former, at least, known for responding badly whenever someone interfered with their shipping.  Ceres was unlikely to be pleased either, even though Captain Samsun might not press the issue.  It was the principle of the thing.  Britain - and the other powers - might wind up having to pay compensation for searching the ship and confiscating some of the goods.  But that led back to the original question.  Where, just where, did the money come from?

Maybe I'm just being paranoid
, he thought.  It wasn't as if the Society of Interstellar Brotherhood was a small organisation.  If every one of the millions of members they claimed to have donated a pound, they’d have millions of pounds. 
Or maybe something sinister is going on
.

He hastily wrote out a short update for Ambassador Richardson, warning her of the incoming ship and potential problems, and then fired off a message to Captain Samuel Johnston.  The American might not know just what weapons the Brothers had bought, but he could certainly send a request back home for the information.  Who knew
what
it might turn up?

His intercom bleeped.  “Captain,” Howard said.  “The shuttle has reached
Makeweight
.”

“Good,” John said.  “Once she’s back, take us towards the planet and transmit a full update to System Command.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said.  “Any other issues?”

“Inform Chief Richards that I wish to speak with him at his earliest convenience,” John said, flatly.  It meant
now
.  “And keep an eye on
Makeweight
.  I want to know if he does anything stupid.”

“Yes, sir,” Howard said.  He sounded puzzled, but didn't question the order.  “We’ll keep a close eye on him.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Are you a religious man, my son?”

Percy took a moment to consider his answer.  Father Brennan was a tall thin man, wearing a black outfit with a wooden cross hanging around his neck.  He wasn't a bad man - and, unlike some of the others, he hadn't complained loudly at the thought of having to walk to an alien city - but Percy couldn’t help feeling suspicious.  Religious disputes were likely to lead to far more clashes between humans and aliens.

“There are no atheists in foxholes, father,” he said, carefully.  “Are you looking for converts here?”

“We believe in issuing the call to all,” Father Brennan said.  “The call may not be heeded, the call may even be mocked, but all that matters is that the call is issued.  Those who do not choose to heed the call will have to live with the consequences of not doing so.”

“I know very little about your sect,” Percy admitted.  “But as long as you don’t try to compel worshippers, you shouldn't have any problems.”

“We believe that the rightness of our position will shine through the clouds of ignorance on Vesy,” Father Brennan said.  “By definition, a polytheistic religion cannot be correct because it really consists of worshipping incredibly powerful beings.  They may as well worship
us
.  But God, the One True God, is literally everything, the be-all and end-all of our multiverse.  He is truly worthy of worship.”

Percy considered it for a moment.  “The Vesy may not take kindly to you telling them otherwise,” he said, warningly.  “You need to be aware of the dangers.”

“If it is God’s will that I die issuing the call,” Father Brennan said, “I will accept it.”

He paused.  “You would be welcome at one of our prayer meetings, my son,” he added.  “All are welcome.”

“I'm not particularly religious,” Percy said.  He’d seen too much of what religion could do to people, people who might otherwise have been good and decent.  “And I have grave doubts about allowing anyone, no matter what he calls himself, to serve as an intermediary between myself and God.”

He glanced back at the rest of the column.  The handful of reporters looked used to marching by now, although sweat was pouring down their faces and soaking their clothes.  Behind them, a handful of NGO experts were grumbling along, clearly resentful that the ban on ground transport applied to them too.  Percy wasn't feeling too sorry for them; in the week since they’d landed, they’d made themselves pains in the arse wandering around Fort Knight and demanding to be allowed to talk to the Vesy, or alternatively holding interviews with the media where they’d pledged to bring the Vesy into the modern age.  But now they were finally going to meet an alien face to face.

The city came into view, looking smaller than Ivan’s city-state.  Percy couldn't help noticing that the walls had been badly damaged at some point in the recent past, probably through cannonballs, and that hundreds of aliens were swarming over them, trying to repair the stone barriers as quickly as possible.  It was hard to be sure, but most of the aliens looked to be free, rather than slaves.  The city might have been liberated, in the wake of the God-King’s death, yet it had taken months for the population to return.

They probably took in a lot of stragglers too
, Percy thought. 
Vesy who had nowhere to go
.

He nodded to his men as they walked up to the gate and passed through, entering a giant clearing with a handful of alien dignitaries waiting for them.  By now, he was starting to separate out the different castes of aliens; some were rulers, although how they gained power was a mystery, others were priests or scribes.  The real problems came when a single alien shared two or more roles. 

“I greet you,” he said, as the alien leader approached.  “As promised, I bring wise men to speak with you.”

“I welcome them,” the alien answered.  His beady eyes flicked from face to face, clearly wondering which of the ‘wise men’ would be most useful.  “We understand that you do not wish to give offense, but you also do not wish to eat with us?”

It took Percy a moment to realise it was a question.  The Vesy shared food with their visitors, a sign of peace and friendship ... or at least of a localised truce. 
Not
taking the food they were offered was a sign of something other than peace, he knew all too well.  But the aliens, at least, had realised that humans had problems eating their food.

“We have brought food of our own,” Percy said.  “We will eat with you, if you will allow us?”

“Interesting,” Father Brennan muttered, as he took a ration bar.  The Vesy ate something that looked like cold bread and meat, cooked in a foul-smelling oil.  “They understand our problem?”

“They know we have problems with their food,” Percy muttered back.  He had problems with the ration bar too, which might have been edible but simply wasn't very tasty.  “I think they find it something of a relief.  They rarely have a surplus of food, Father.  The idea of hosting guests who don’t need to be fed is quite welcome to them.”

He shrugged.  “They also understand that we don’t think of it as an insult,” he added.  “There may be some problems, as we extend our visits well beyond the original landing zone, but we will overcome them.”

Thompson stamped over to them, looking irked.  “Can we hire alien porters next week?”

“You could, I suppose,” Percy said.  The issue hadn't come up yet, which was surprising, but it was a rational solution to the problem.  “Can't you carry everything yourself?”

“No,” Thompson said.  “The farming gear alone is far too heavy.”

Percy concealed his amusement.  Captain Naiser had not only ordered the weapons confiscated, he’d also ordered the men on the ground to make a careful search of everything else the Brothers had sent down to the planet.  Percy had led the crew and he’d uncovered a surprising amount of material that skimmed far too close to the banned list.  In the end, the Brothers had been left with the farming gear, a handful of technological trinkets and a surprising amount of medical supplies. 

They probably expected to be allowed to land their shuttle right next to the alien city
, he thought. 
We forbade them to land anywhere but Fort Knight.

“Check when we get back to the Fort,” he said.  Thompson was sweating like a pig, despite wearing shorts, a shirt and a pith helmet.  “There should be no shortage of labourers willing to porter for you.  Just make sure you pay them well.”

“Of course,” Thompson said.

He marched off, looking thoroughly pissed.  Percy shook his head after him - he had the feeling that Thompson was in for a nasty surprise - then turned to watch as the alien leader gave a long speech of welcome, half in English and half in Vesy-One.  It would be recorded for later translation, Percy knew, but he had a good idea what it said.  The Vesy welcomed their honoured guests with odd table manners and poor tastes in food.

“Tell me,” Father Brennan said, elbowing Percy.  “How do you tell the difference between the priests and everyone else?”

“The priests are the ones who wear the masks,” Percy said.  The masks were truly beautiful, he had to admit, combinations of gold leaf and silver feathers that glimmered brightly in the sun.  “When they have them around their necks, they’re in mortal form; when they actually have them on their faces, they speak for the god.  Indeed, in some ways, they
become
the god.”

“Ah,” Father Brennan said.  He gave the aliens a long considering look.  “We have nothing like it, of course.”

The aliens came forward, the priests seeking out their human counterparts.  Percy kept an eye on Father Brennan and his fellows, including people from four different religions, but they seemed to be talking peacefully in broken English.  Maybe it was harder to offend each other, he considered, if they couldn't really
understand
each other.  Or maybe they were both being really polite.

Thompson seemed to have having worse luck.  “Marine,” he bawled.  “Some help, please!”

Percy signed inwardly, then walked towards the small group.  Thompson and his assistant, a young woman no older than Penny, were surrounded by a handful of Vesy rulers, all wearing golden robes.  The discussion seemed to have become heated, although no punches were being thrown.  It wasn’t a consolation, Percy feared, when it looked like that would change at any moment.

“I’m here,” he said, quietly.  When had
he
become a diplomat?  He was trained to fight on behalf of the United Kingdom, not negotiate with aliens.  “What seems to be the problem?”

One of the aliens spoke rapidly in his own language, so fast that Percy doubted he could have followed the words even if he
had
a basic understanding of the speech.  Another answered in the same tongue, casting what looked like a reproving look towards Thompson.  The overweight man started to splutter, then looked at Percy.

“They are insisting that we provide them with weapons,” he said.  “And when I said we couldn't supply weapons, they wanted to leave.”

“Then you might want to respect their wishes,” Percy said.

“But we have so much else to offer them,” Thompson protested.

“Come with me,” Percy ordered.  Thompson gave him a nasty look, but followed him to a place where they should be out of earshot.  “You’re offering them something that isn't any practical use to them.”

Thompson stared at him in disbelief.  “How can they
not
want to farm?”

Percy stared back at him, feeling much the same way.  How could someone have organised such a large freighter-load of supplies and, at the same time, be completely blind to some of the implications? 
Percy
had known ... although, to be fair, Percy had spent six months camped out on Vesy, chatting with the locals and gaining a feel for their society.  And he’d put it all in his reports which, as far as he knew, were freely available to everyone at Fort Knight.

“The only thing they care about, right here, right now, is survival,” Percy said, flatly.  It was why the first demand Ivan had made, and repeated every week for six months, was for weapons.  There was no point in being wealthy if they couldn't defend themselves.  “You ...”

“I’m giving them the tools they need to survive,” Thompson insisted.

“No, you’re not,” Percy said.  He cleared his throat.  “Suppose, for the sake of argument, you manage to teach them how to double the amount of food they produce in a year.  Let’s suppose you manage to do that, adapting the farming tools you brought to local conditions without problems.  What happens then?”

Thompson blinked at him.  “They eat more?”

Percy sighed.  “No,” he said.  “The Vesy in the nearest city with access to human weapons, be they weapons we gave them or weapons they copied from the Russians, will attack and take the food, as well as the city.  You will simply make them a better target, a more tempting target, to hostile city-states.  They’re not stupid, Mr. Thompson.  You’re offering to make them victims of their own success.”

“I can't believe it works that way,” Thompson said, stubbornly.

“You would make them both rich and weak,” Percy said.  “How many human states were rich and weak - and how many of them lasted long enough to reform?”

“We can offer medicine as well as farming tools,” Thompson said.

“Which will, again, make them a bigger target,” Percy said.  He shook his head.  “You can't offer them weapons, sir, so they have no interest in talking to you.”

“I will lodge an official protest with the British Ambassador,” Thompson said.  He sounded as though he expected the mere threat of a protest to sway Percy, although Percy had no idea quite what he could do.  “We came to help our brothers ...”

“That is your right, sir,” Percy said.  He kept his voice calm with an effort.  “However, right now, you are offering them nothing they actually
want
.  You need to bear that in mind when you approach the Vesy.”