A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (40 page)

“Percy, take your section to the south and link up with the Paras guarding the prefabricated buildings,” Hadfield ordered.  “Any Vesy within the walls are to be regarded as hostile; I say again, any Vesy within the walls are to be regarded as hostile.”

Percy shuddered.  How many Vesy had gone in and out of the base since it had opened for business?  The NGOs, the religious factions ... they’d all invited the aliens into the base, showing them the wonders and glories of human civilisation.  And the aliens had used that knowledge to precisely target their attack.  How much of it, Percy asked himself bitterly, was
his
fault?  If he’d taken a tougher line with the aliens, he wondered, would they have dared to attack Fort Knight?

Of course things would have been different
, he thought, sourly. 
They’d have attacked and wiped out the last human presence on their world before we received any further word from Earth
.

He gritted his teeth, then led the way through a gash in the walls and into Fort Knight.  The barracks the aliens had built, the barracks that had housed the reporters - including Penny - were nothing more than piles of debris.  He shuddered as he saw a body, half-trapped under pieces of falling wood, then cursed as he realised the man was far beyond salvation.  The face, by some dark miracle, was untouched, but Percy didn't know him.  He took one final look at the body, then pressed on, lifting his rifle as he heard the sound of shots ringing out ahead of him.  Moments later, they came face-to-face with a pair of armed Vesy.

Percy levelled his weapon and shot the first one through the chest; the second fell to Peerce’s shot, right through the head.  He took a moment to inspect the bodies, then walked on, leaving the Vesy behind.  There was no point in picking up the bodies now, not when they had a mission to do.  He kept a sharp eye out for Penny as they rounded a corner and saw a set of burned bodies lying on the ground, but they were completely unrecognisable.  DNA analysis would be the only way to identify them, after the bullets had stopped flying. 

He allowed himself a sigh of relief as the prefabricated buildings came into view, guarded by a number of Paras who’d hastily dug themselves foxholes and prepared for a long siege.  Their positions were surrounded by a number of dead Vesy, who’d clearly tried to charge their enemies only to run into vastly superior firepower.  Percy felt a glimmer of pride, mixed with sadness, then walked forward, careful to keep his hands in view.  The Para in command stood up and waved back.

“Lieutenant Schneider, reporting as ordered,” Percy said.  There were only five Paras in the line, two badly wounded.  “Where do you want us?”

“We’re still holding this line,” the Para said.  He sounded tired, but proud.  “The CO thinks the attack is slacking off.  What’s your ammo like?”

“Got reloads in the shuttle,” Percy said.  He keyed his radio.  “Captain, we've linked up with the Paras.”

“Remain there while we sweep the base,” Hadfield ordered, coolly.  “We’ll link up with you afterwards.”

Percy nodded, then dove into the foxhole as he heard the sound of incoming mortar fire.  The aliens might have realised they weren't going to win, but that hadn't discouraged them from pressing the offensive anyway, even though it was pointless.  Or perhaps it wasn't pointless, he thought; there weren't that many British troops on the planet, making every soldier killed or wounded at Fort Knight one the Flowered Clan wouldn't have to face later.  The ground shook as the shells landed, then shook again as one of the shuttles launched a spread of missiles towards the mortar post.  A hail of explosions billowed up in the jungle, silencing the gunners before they could launch another shell.  Or so he hoped. 

Standard procedure is to fire one shell, then relocate and fire again
, he thought. 
Did the Indians teach the Vesy to do that?

Slowly, very slowly, the fighting died away as the last of the infiltrators were rooted out and killed.  Percy found him and his men assigned to patrolling the outer edge of the walls, then pulling bodies out of the wreckage as the surviving civilians were urged towards the shuttles and dispatched to orbit.  There were no shortage of bodies; indeed, he had a sneaking suspicion that they would all have to be buried on Vesy, rather than transhipped back to Earth.  Or stored until a special freighter convoy could be arranged. 

“Take some rest,” Hadfield ordered, after what felt like hours.  “But make sure you sleep with your weapons.”

Percy was too tired to make the obvious joke.  “Sir,” he said.  “Have you seen anything of Penny?  My sister?”

Hadfield shook his head.  “She’s not on the list of known dead or people transported to orbit,” he said.  He sounded too tired to try to offer any real reassurance.  “But she could be buried under the rubble somewhere and we’d never know until we started digging into the wreckage.”

“I know, sir,” Percy said.  Penny had nerve, no doubt about it.  She’d been so determined to win her story that she’d stayed on the base until it was far too late.  He should have forced her to leave ... but how?  He wasn't her boss, nor was he in command of the base.  “But ...”

He shook his head.  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said.  “I ...”

“Don't worry about it,” Hadfield said.  “Just get some bloody rest.  You need it.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“She deserved better,” Grace Scott said.

John eyed her sharply.  They stood together in
Warspite’s
sickbay, looking down at the sleeping body of Ambassador Joelle Richardson.  The doctor had prescribed rest and relaxation for the ambassador and told them that she would be kept under for at least another couple of days, long enough for the shock to wear off.  John knew better than to try to argue with the doctor.  He still owed the man his regular check-up.

“She will recover,” he said.  Shock could be nasty - he’d seen people stumbling around like drunkards after being badly shocked - but the ambassador was tougher than she looked.  “I have no doubt of it.”

Grace said nothing as they walked back through the corridors and into John’s office.  John took advantage of the quiet to study her, wondering just what was going through her mind.  She’d been an idealist, of sorts, when they’d first met; she'd even taken him to task for daring to consider the Vesy as anything other than human.  But since then, she'd learned hard lessons.  The Vesy simply
weren’t
human and couldn’t be judged by human standards.

Not that that would stop people trying
, he thought.  The steward brought them both mugs of coffee, which he sipped gratefully as he glanced at the latest updates from the surface. 
If they’re prepared to try to judge the Tadpoles by human standards, why not the Vesy
?

He sighed, inwardly.  Seven hours after the attack had begun, Fort Knight was still being sniped or mortared, while most of the outposts were simply gone.  There was no way to know what had happened; hell, he didn't even have the manpower to send recon missions to the bases to see if there were any survivors.  The Indians had been loudly offering to do just that, citing their ties to the Flowered Clan; a handful of minor diplomatic representatives had agreed, despite the risk.  John ground his teeth in bitter frustration, then concentrated on his coffee.  It was just a shame the steward hadn't put something stronger than coffee grains into the machine before making the drink.

“Ambassador Richardson is currently ... out of commission,” Grace said, once she’d drunk her coffee.  “I believe that puts me in command of the mission.”

John considered it for a moment.  Grace was right, technically, but the appointment was something of a poisoned chalice, under the circumstances.  Besides, Ambassador Richardson had never commanded the military side of the mission.  His orders were purposefully vague over just how much he was obliged to listen to her, let alone follow her lead.  But then, he’d seen enough of the inner workings of the Admiralty to know that if he’d failed, he would be blamed for misunderstanding or outright disobeying his orders.  Admiral Soskice was just waiting for the chance to stick a knife in his back.

Life was so much simpler
, he thought,
when we only had to worry about the enemy in front of us
.

He pushed the thought aside, then nodded.  “You have certain limited powers, yes,” he said, flatly.  “I don’t believe that
all
Ambassador Richardson’s powers devolved on you.”

Grace shrugged.  “I believe the mission has failed,” she said.  “Fort Knight is a ruin, the outposts are gone and hundreds of people are dead.  Would you disagree with this assessment?”

The Indians have us in check
, John thought.  The Vesy-UN was deader than the alien leader who’d trusted the British Government to keep its word.  He suspected the demand that the British evacuate Fort Knight would be backed up by the Indians, sooner rather than later. 
But they have to know there will be consequences for this
.

“Provisionally, I will agree that the mission has hit a major snag,” he said.  “I don’t think we’ve lost yet, just ...”

“I do,” Grace said.  Her voice rose, sharply.  “We have stumbled from disaster to disaster, Captain.  Our influence with the aliens has fallen to the point they’re prepared to take the risk of waging war on us.  The Indians have outsmarted us right down the line.  It’s time to pull out and rethink our approach.  Let the Indians have the planet if they want it so much!”

John eyed her, sharply.  “Are you suggesting we cut our losses and abandon the planet?”

Hypocrite
, his own thoughts mocked him. 
Wasn't that what you wanted to do
?

He ground his teeth. 
I wanted to remove the civilians,
he told himself. 
Too many people were caught in the middle for us to risk pushing matters
.

“Yes,” Grace said.  “The only things of real interest here are the tramlines and ... well, we can agree to abide by the
Indian
proposal of free navigation.”

“The Prime Minister might have other ideas,” John said.  He knew word was already heading back to Earth, but it would be at least a fortnight before a response reached them, if it was relayed up the chain.  A physical message would take a great deal longer.  “Shouldn’t we wait for orders?”

“There’s nothing we can do here, save for serving as a punching bag,” Grace snapped.  “I can only advise that we leave, then have a rethink.”

John scowled.  The hell of it was that she had a point.  Fort Knight was vulnerable, with most of its population heading to orbit; the outposts were gone.  Worse, the Flowered Clan was steadily absorbing the alliance of cities Ivan had painstakingly built, then lost when the British Government had betrayed him.  Colonel Boone might be able to dominate the surrounding territory, but only until he ran out of ammunition.  The fort’s stockpiles were already dangerously low. 

And they just have to keep wearing away at us until we collapse
, John thought. 
The Indians have created a situation where the only rational choice is to concede defeat and abandon the planet
.

He sighed, inwardly.  It wouldn't go down well on Earth.  The last count claimed that over three hundred British soldiers and civilians were dead, along with at least fifty-seven foreigners.  God alone knew how many people had died in the various outposts.  If a number hadn't been evacuated just before the shit hit the fan, it would be a great deal worse.  And quite a few humans remained completely unaccounted for.  No matter what excuses the Indians offered, it might well mean war.

“We need to finish locating the missing - or the dead,” he said.  “Miss Scott ...”

Grace shook her head.  “We don’t have the time,” she said.  “Captain, in my post as current head of the ambassadorial party, I am ordering you to withdraw everyone to orbit and then return to Earth.”

John gave her a long considering look.  “Do you have the authority to issue such an order?”

“I believe I do,” Grace said.  “We leave the planet, salvaging what we can, and then sort out what to do next.”

Like finding ways to punish the Indians for this
, John thought. 
Get the civilians out of the zone, then start putting together a coalition to sanction the Indians ...

“Very well,” he said.  “But I hope Ambassador Richardson will understand when she wakes.”

He keyed his wristcom.  “Mr. Howard,” he ordered.  “Contact Colonel Boone and inform him that he is to evacuate the remainder of Fort Knight.  I say again, that he is to evacuate Fort Knight.  I want every last one of our remaining personnel off the surface as quickly as possible.”

He scowled.  “You do realise that a number of our personal may have been taken hostage?”

Grace blinked.  “I thought we’d all been implanted,” she said, rubbing her upper arm.  “Travis told me that we could be found, if we were kidnapped ...”

“Yes,” John said.  He met her eyes.  “And those transmitters would still be working, even if the people carrying them were dead.  We should be able to locate their bodies, but we can't.”

“And so you think the aliens have them,” Grace said.  She stared down at her hands.  “I can speak to the Indians ...”

“Better make it convincing,” John said, tiredly.  The Vesy had nothing capable of blocking the implant signals, unless they took the prisoners so deep underground that they were surrounded by miles of solid rock.  But the Indians could easily put together a jammer, if they wanted to help the aliens take hostages.  “They won't want to commit themselves to anything.”

***

Percy jerked awake as Peerce shook him.  “Sergeant?”

“We’ve just received orders from the Colonel,” Peerce said.  “We are to transport everyone back to orbit at once, then shut down Fort Knight.  We’re leaving the planet.”

“Shit,” Percy said.  He wasn't too surprised at closing down Fort Knight - the base’s defences were ruined, providing an excellent excuse for moving operations elsewhere - but abandoning the planet?  The Indians would take the entire world, if they cared to.  “What about the missing?”

“Still missing,” Peerce said, sympathetically.  “There’s nothing we can do.”

Percy cursed under his breath as they stumbled outside, then grabbed for his terminal and checked the records.  Everyone who’d landed at Fort Knight had a locator implant, something the Vesy couldn't begin to imagine, let alone remove safely.  The search and recovery crews had found dozens of bodies, from defenders caught in the open to civilians cut down as they tried to run, simply by tracking the implants through the drones.  But a number of people remained unaccounted for ...

Penny
, he thought, bitterly.  Where
was
she?  Even if she’d been blown to bits, the implant might well have survived.  Hell, the Paras had found a couple of implants in the crater where the north wall had been, where several Paras had been literally disintegrated. 
Where are you
?

Hadfield met them outside, still wearing his suit.  “The civilians need to be escorted to the shuttles,” he ordered.  “They are not to bring anything apart from the clothes on their backs; if they try to bring anything else, take it off them and leave it here.  There just isn’t the room.”

Of course not
, Percy thought. 
Half the freighters that should have offered berths for civilians have buggered off through the tramlines
.

“You may tell them that they will be heading to Cromwell, rather than Earth,” Hadfield continued.  “We may not have the life support to get them all the way home.  Do not listen to any arguments they may offer, just get them into the shuttles as quickly as possible.”

He broke off as a trio of shuttles flew overhead, dropping down to land just outside the remains of the fort.  “Use whatever force is necessary to get them onto the craft,” he concluded.  “You may secure them, if they refuse to listen to reason.”

Percy nodded, then led his section towards the prefabricated buildings.  Most of the surviving civilians - he felt a stab of hatred for them, merely for not being Penny - had been gathered there, watched by the Paras.  He exchanged a brief word with the Paras on guard, then opened the hatch.  The civilians were lying inside a hall, looking tired and dazed.  Some of them were asleep, others clearly wishing they were.

“On your feet,” he snapped, taking command right from the start.  “We’re going to the shuttles.  Leave bags and everything else behind, just take the clothes on your back ...”

A burly man stumbled to his feet, clutching a heavy carryall.  “I can't leave this here,” he protested.  “It’s mine ...”

“It's staying here,” Percy said, feeling his self-control starting to fray.  He hadn’t felt so tired since the first week of training, when the Drill Instructors had pushed them right to the limit, just to see who would break under pressure.  They’d been sadistic bastards, he’d always thought, but they’d never included a genuine threat to his sister.  Maybe he
would
have broken if one had been offered.  “Leave the bag here,
sir
, or it will be thrown aside.”

The man saw his expression - Percy was sure he looked tired and murderous - and dropped the bag with a clatter.  There was no time to feel relief.  Percy hastily assessed the civilians, then sent the women ahead first, escorted by Peerce and a handful of marines.  No one objected, although there were several sharp glances from those who remained behind.  They had to be wondering if they were going to be left behind, if the occasional bombing and sniping managed to take out a shuttle.