A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (11 page)

“That’s something we’re working on,” Soskice said.  “We’re actually looking at plans for a battleship, rather than a carrier.”

James’s eyes narrowed.  “Wouldn't that have all the disadvantages of a carrier with none of the advantages?”

“No, because we could scale up the drives,” Soskice said.  “Given the latest improvements in power and weapons technology, we could also rig the ship with solid armour and heavy energy weapons.  It would be on a very different scale to anything we currently have.”

“I’d like to see the plans,” James said.  “But for the moment, we won’t be able to deploy it against the Indians.”

“It isn't anything more than a concept,” Soskice admitted.  “The real question, of course, is just how far the
Indians
have advanced.”

James sighed.  There were several different intelligence assessments of just how far the Indians had advanced, all of which came to radically different conclusions.  One had asserted that the Indians simply didn't have anything more advanced than the pre-war Royal Navy; another had claimed that the Indian Navy was composed entirely of modern ships and had the firepower to even the odds against the British.   James was inclined to believe the truth lay somewhere between the two, but where?  He knew the Indians had at least one modern carrier, and presumably a number of smaller modern ships, yet just how capable
was
it?

They never trained with us, after the war came to an end
, he thought. 
Their government must have been plotting the war as soon as they realised we were gravely weakened; they wouldn't have wanted to give us any insight into their capabilities.

“There’s no way to know until we actually engage them,” James said.  He rather doubted the Indians would withdraw, even though they had to know the task force was gearing up for war.  Instead, MI6 reported that they were working on shoring up their diplomatic position and preparing to hold the territory they’d stolen.  “Unless you have any insights ...?”

“They will be looking for a silver bullet themselves,” Soskice noted.  “I expect they’ll have poured more resources than us into finding ways to counter starfighters.”

“But you don't know,” James said.  He cursed the simulations under his breath.  Was it not possible, really, to hold a simulation without politics becoming involved?  War games made more sense ... but then, there
had
been war games in the past when the winning party was known in advance.  “No one knows.”

“Of course not,” Soskice said.  “But we have to assume the worst.”

“And try not to fall into the
Superiority
trap at the same time,” James said.  “They
did
make you read it, didn't they?”

“The people in the story were idiots,” Soskice said.  He leaned forward as he spoke.  “They
already
held the whip hand when they started fiddling with their weapons mix and coming up with new ideas.  The story makes it clear that their victory was just a matter of time.”

“True, I suppose,” James said.  “One could make the same argument about the First World War, Admiral.  It doesn't mean that sending wave after wave of men across No Man’s Land to be mowed down by machine guns was particularly bright.”

“
We
are not in that situation,” Soskice continued, ignoring the comment.  “You served during the war, Admiral.  The Tadpoles held the whip hand and we would have been defeated,
easily
, if we hadn't kept an ancient carrier in service.  They had more advanced weapons, more advanced ships and knew us far too well.  We knew nothing about them until we recovered bodies and a semi-intact ship during the war.”

“I was there,” James snapped.

“That’s my point,” Soskice said.  “We
cannot
afford to stop pushing the edges and researching newer weapons, because we
cannot
rest on our laurels.  The Tadpoles will advance further now, as will the smaller human powers.  We simply do not have enough of a margin of superiority - no margin at all - to relax.  Pushing the edges is our only hope of remaining in the lead.”

“You assume there
will
be future developments,” James said.

“From a modern-day perspective,
Superiority
is laughable,” Soskice pointed out.  “They build a colossal tactical computer so large they have to carry it in a giant space liner. 
We
can produce something with far more computing power easily, something so small it can sit on your desktop.  Clarke simply couldn't imagine some of the developments that took place during his lifetime. 
We
didn't master the use of plasma weapons until the Tadpoles showed us the way.”

James scowled at him.  “The
principle
remains unchanged.”

Soskice shrugged.  “Yes, there
will
be new developments,” he said.  “And yes, some of them will not be as useful as we might hope, at least on first blush.  But we have to be ready to take advantage of them.  Or the Indians will do it instead.”

“We don’t have time,” James said.  “And we are reluctant to give up the weapons mix we
know
works in exchange for something we don’t trust.”

“The Indians have every incentive to innovate,” Soskice said.  “It’s not easy to predict the future, James, but I ran a set of simulations.”

“Psychohistory was discredited a long time ago,” James said.

“With good reason,” Soskice said.  “It could not predict the Tadpoles, for example, or the slow avalanche of changes caused by unpredictable human decisions.  But you can predict
some
things reasonably well.  Assuming there isn't a second war, or a series of natural disasters, our productive capability will continue to rise sharply.  The Indians simply don’t have the groundwork to match us.  In ten years, we’ll be well ahead of them.”

“Good,” James said.

“But that doesn't take into account new developments,” Soskice added.  “What if the Indians develop something
new
?  Like I said, they have every reason to innovate.”

“Which would be inherently unpredictable,” James said.  “We have to deal with things as they are.”

He shook his head.  “I understand your concerns, Admiral, but I have a great deal of work to do,” he said.  “My next appointment is due at any minute.”

“This is a serious matter,” Soskice said.

“I know,” James said.  He
did
understand Soskice’s position.  Hell, he even
agreed
with it to some extent.  “But there’s no way to improve our weapons within the week, is there?  We have to challenge the Indian positions with what we have on hand, not what we’d like to have.  The future will have to take care of itself.”

Chapter Ten

Clarke III, Pegasus System

“General,” his aide said.  “A courier boat just jumped into the system and made contact.  There is a secure message for you.”

General Anjeet Patel nodded, shortly.  “Have it relayed to my office,” he said.  “I’ll decrypt it there.”

He stood, taking the opportunity to look around the CIC.  INS
Viraat
was the most modern carrier in the navy - perhaps the most modern carrier in the human sphere - but it was the first time she’d gone into a war zone.  Her crew had never been truly tested, despite endless exercises; it galled him, sometimes, that the Indian Navy hadn't been a big player in the First Interstellar War.  The British, whatever else could be said about them, had amassed a staggering number of experienced officers to command their ships.

And the British had plenty of time to rebuild their starfighter arm
, he thought, as he stepped through the secure hatch into his office. 
Viraat
had more than enough space for his staff, as well as the two thousand officers and men who made up the crew. 
They’ll have learned a great deal from the war
.

He closed the hatch behind him and strode over to the table.  The message was already blinking up on the terminal; he pressed his hand against the scanner, allowing it to read his ID implant, as he sat down on the chair.  A steward appeared from the side hatch, offering coffee; Anjeet shook his head firmly and dismissed the steward as the message finished decrypting itself.  It should be secure, he told himself, but there was no way to be sure.  If there was one form of international warfare that had never abated, even during the Age of Unrest, it was the endless contest between intelligence agencies.  The British would have been trying to crack India’s codes long before they knew there would be war.

The Prime Minister’s face popped up in front of him, looking grim.  “General,” he said, without preamble.  “The British have flatly refused to accept our terms.  They will not recognise our conquests and will not consider our other demands until we withdraw from the occupied star systems.  There is, in short, no reason to assume they will concede some points in exchange for our submission.”

Of course not
, Anjeet thought, wryly. 
If we backed down, they’d take it as a sign of weakness
.

“Instead, the British are assembling a task force to recapture the occupied systems,” the Prime Minister continued.  “Details are attached; intelligence believes there will be at least one fleet carrier, two escort carriers and at least a dozen smaller ships.  The British have been quite successful in concealing precisely
which
ships have been assigned to where; we believe there will be several more ships added to the task force, but we don't know for sure.  There will be talks and more talks, no doubt, none of which will get anywhere.  There are no reasonable grounds for compromise.

“Accordingly, you are ordered to move to phase two.  Defend the occupied territories; prevent, if possible, the British from gaining a foothold in either Pegasus or Cromwell.  The ROE have been updated, allowing you to fire first if you believe the British threaten your positions.  However, we do
not
want any atrocities.  The war is to be conducted in as civilised a manner as possible.”

Anjeet nodded, curtly. 
He
had no interest in any atrocities either. 

“I don’t think I have to remind you that the world is watching like an elderly relative who
knows
you did something rude, even if she isn't quite sure,” the Prime Minister warned.  “Do everything you can to protect the British civilians; keep the POWs separate, if you don’t want to spare the shipping to return them home, and treat them in line with the standard conventions.  The other interstellar powers may become involved if we do otherwise.”

He paused for a long moment.  “We need to slap the British back as hard as possible, once their task force arrives,” he concluded.  “Should open shooting commence, the gloves are to come off completely; you are to switch to ROE-3.  At
that
point, General, you may take the offensive down the tramlines.”

“Brilliant,” Anjeet muttered, sarcastically.

“I’ll keep you updated to the best of my ability,” the Prime Minister said.  “Good luck.”

His image vanished, revealing a handful of encrypted files.  Anjeet cursed under his breath as he opened them, one by one, and skimmed through.  He’d wanted to place pickets in Hannibal and the other systems between Terra Nova and Pegasus, in hopes of attacking the British Fleet Train, but the Prime Minister had vetoed the plan.  As long as there was hope of a peaceful solution, he’d be reluctant to take the gloves off ahead of time.

“Which will give the British time to mass their forces and take the offensive,” he said.  “They’ll get to choose the time and place of the first engagement.”

He finished skimming the files and sighed again.  There was a second carrier in Vesy, but he didn't dare bring her through to Pegasus for fear the British would take the offensive towards Cromwell instead.  It wouldn't change the balance of power, he was sure, yet it would be embarrassing.  He needed to keep his forces in place to react quickly to any British moves.

And they may be capable of jumping one of our carriers
, he thought. 
That would even the odds quite sharply
.

He keyed his terminal, sending the files to the intelligence staff.  They’d go through them, teasing out all the nuggets of information and making educated guesses about which ships the British would add to their task force.  Not, he knew, that it would matter.  They’d probably be able to track the British once they entered Hannibal ... unless, of course, the British decided to take the war to the Indian worlds instead.  It was quite possible.

Shaking his head, he looked down at the display.  The troops were still landing on Clarke, setting up a whole network of defences.  If the British took the offensive, they’d get a bloody nose; it was possible, quite possible, that they wouldn't even realise the danger until they got too close to avoid the mass drivers.  Civilised nations disliked them, but the war had removed all taboos concerning their use.  A single hit would be enough to cripple a carrier beyond repair. 

“And if they do recognise the trap,” he mused to himself, “they will still have to spring it if they wish to recover their territory.”

He rose to his feet.  The command staff would have to be briefed, now they knew there
would
be war.  They’d have to dust off the contingency plans, update them as best as they could and then place their forces in the best position to repel attack.  And earmark ships for later raiding, if the British took the offensive.  Knocking out the British supply lines would make winning the war easier.

Of course,
he reflected as the hatch hissed open in front of him,
they will feel the same way too
.

***

“I think this compartment is safe,” David Majors said.  “They certainly haven’t bothered to
look
into it.”

“You
think
this compartment is safe,” Doctor Sharon Henderson echoed.  “Are you
sure
?”

“There’s no such thing as surety,” Lillian said.  She’d been surprised to be invited to the covert meeting, but she supposed there weren't many others with genuine naval experience on the colony.  “If the bug sweep turned up nothing ...?”

“It didn't,” Majors confirmed.  He wasn’t an electronics expert, but he’d admitted to serving a term in the Royal Signals during the war.  “However, the Indians may have developed something new.”

“They could be listening through the datanet,” Sharon said, nervously.  “We’re not
spies
.”

“I took the precaution of isolating this sector,” Majors reassured her.  “The Indians
have
installed monitors in the datanet, true, but they won’t actually be able to peer into this compartment without actually reconnecting the system.  We’d know if they did.”

“And what will happen,” Sharon asked, “if they catch us?”

“They said it themselves,” Lillian said.  “We’ll be treated as insurgents, who can be shot on sight - perfectly legally.”

“So we keep our heads down and wait for the navy,” Sharon said.  “Getting involved now might be pointless.”

“The problem is that the navy will need intelligence,” Majors said, tartly.  “Like ... what are the Indians doing on the surface?”

“They’re building defences,” Lillian said.  She scowled in bitter memory.  “I’m not sure what they are, but I overheard two of the guards talking about being able to hit ships in orbit.”

“That would make them mass drivers,” Majors said.  “Unless they
have
managed to solve the problem of creating a plasma containment field that lasts for more than a few seconds.”

“Mass drivers seem more logical,” Lillian said.  “Combined with an orbiting sensor network, they could seriously upset anyone trying to approach the planet.”

“Right,” Majors said.  “Is there anything we can do about them?”

“Not now,” Lillian said, after a moment’s thought.  “They don’t seem to care about us going outside, but they sure as hell object to us going anywhere near their fortifications without permission.”

“They had you driving a vehicle for them,” Majors said.  “Are they going to keep expanding the colony?”

“I believe so, but it’s still nowhere near their positions,” Lillian said, flatly.  “And they may be planning to wait until the end of the war.”

Sharon leaned forward.  “Can’t you sneak a signal into the communications net?”

“I doubt it,” Lillian said.  “They took over the entire command network the day they arrived.”

“We’d find it very hard to insert a signal without the new command codes,” Majors agreed, softly.  “One of you
could
try to seduce the local commander ...”

Sharon bunched a fist.  “Are you serious?  I’m a doctor, not Mata Hari.”

“I don’t think the Indians would be seduced,” Lillian said, quickly.  “They rarely spend time with any of us, save for when they’re issuing orders.”

“True,” Majors agreed.  “Could one of us sneak out of the colony?”

“You’d have to survive on your own,” Lillian said.  “I don’t see how you could do it ...”

“Take a tractor,” Sharon suggested.  “Strip the life support system, then destroy the rest of it so they find nothing, but wreckage.  It wouldn't be the first time there’s been an accident that caused an explosion.”

“And even if you did,” Lillian added, “what then?”

Majors shook his head.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I just ... I just hate being helpless!”

Lillian understood, but she also knew that the Indians were firmly in control.  The colonists had no weapons, no secure access to the datanet and no control over the life support.  And even if they
did
manage to throw the Indians out, the orbiting starships could simply bombard the moon from orbit, flattening the colony into rubble.  It might be
neat
to get someone outside the colony, to fake his death so the Indians had no idea he was on the loose, but what would be the
point
?  None of them were soldiers!

“I think the only thing we can do is gather information and hope there will be a chance to use it,” she said, finally.  She wished, suddenly, that she’d paid more attention in the brief Conduct After Capture course, although it hadn't been designed for living under enemy occupation.  They had a moral duty to resist, if they could, but how?  “The Royal Navy
will
be coming, I’m sure.”

Sharon snorted.  “And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then we get to decide if we want to stay here under their rule or go somewhere else,” Lillian said.  She rose to her feet as her watch beeped an alert.  “I have to go.”