A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (16 page)

“Steady as we go,” he ordered, quietly.  Thirty minutes to the final deployment point, then the SAS would be on their way.  “There’s no reason to panic just yet.”

***

“Percy,” Penny said, as Percy popped his head into the observation blister.  “Are you alright?”

“I always feel nervous before deployment,” Percy said.  His face was so pale that Penny seriously considered dragging him to sickbay.  “I’ll feel better as soon as we’re on the way.”

“You’re going down to Clarke,” Penny said.  She hesitated, then told him what she’d found out.  “You’ve joined the SAS.”

“I’m .... just working with them,” Percy said.  His eyes narrowed.  “How did you find out about them?”

“Everyone on the ship knows,” Penny said, sarcastically.  It hadn't taken her long to discover that there were no secrets on a small warship.  “And they know I’m your sister too.”

“As long as they’re not sharing nude photographs of you,” Percy muttered.  He cleared his throat before she could demand to know what he meant.  “Don’t put that in your reports, ok?  The censors will not be amused.”

“I won’t,” Penny said.  She’d written a handful of articles, but most of them had been puff pieces.  Neither she nor Stevenson had been permitted to watch from the bridge as
Warspite
made her approach to Clarke.  She was tempted to complain it wasn't the full access she’d been promised, but she had a feeling that complaints would get her nowhere.  “You owe me an interview when you get home.”

“If I do,” Percy said, morbidly.  “Penny ...”

He shook his head.  “This could be the last time we see each other,” he said.  “I wish you hadn't come.”

Penny felt her temper flare.  “Would it have been better if I’d stayed on Earth and only heard about your death months or years after it happened?”

She glared at him.  “At least this way I’ll know what happened!”

Percy smiled.  “But you could make up something far more impressive to tell your children,” he pointed out.  “Percy, my brother, who died in the arms of a dozen women after ingesting a large meal of oysters and injecting himself with super-boost.  We should all try to pass that way.”

“I hate you,” Penny said.  “And I wouldn't tell my children that you died in bed like
that
.  I’m not Uncle Al.”

“I’m pretty sure Uncle Al was making up most of his stories,” Percy said.  “Mum always said he was a braggart, a liar and a pain in the ass.”

Penny had to smile.  Uncle Al had been their mother’s brother; he’d died two years before the war.  He’d been fun, she had to admit, although the tales he told of adventures in faraway lands had been completely unsuitable for children.  Their mother had regularly shouted at him for telling Percy and Penny about how he’d met strange women and courted them.  Percy had once made the mistake of telling their mother that he wanted to be like Uncle Al and wound up grounded for a week. 

“I’ll tell them they should be proud of you,” Penny said.  “But I think you’ll be fine.  You’re like a cockroach.  You just don’t die even when you get smacked with a shoe.”

Percy shuddered.  “Don’t joke about cockroaches,” he said.  “The barracks in Malaysia were
full
of the damn things.  We had to resort to a flamethrower just to keep them from crawling on our bunks.”

“I hope you’re joking,” Penny said.  Burning down a barracks was probably worthy of a court martial, not reassignment to Edinburgh.  “I didn't hear anything about you being booted out of the military for gross stupidity.”

“It could be worse,” Percy said, refusing to rise to the bait.  “We were doing battle with
huge
scorpions in the Middle East.  Some of them were so large and nasty we used to joke they’d been mutated by radioactivity.  There was a Yank base next door and we pitted our scorpions against theirs in duels to the death ...”

His wristcom bleeped, once.  “I have to go,” he said.  “Penny, take care of yourself, all right?”

“I’ll try,” Penny said.  She gave her brother a hug.  “And good luck, Percy.  Come back alive.”

She watched him go, feeling cold ice crawling through her heart.  Percy ... had always been strong and confident, even before he’d joined the military, but now ... he’d always been overprotective, yet now he was overdoing it.  Had her near-death on Vesy affected him so badly?  She was the only blood relative he had, after all.  And they’d been forced to struggle together to escape the floodwaters during the war.

“I’ll see you again, Percy,” she whispered.  “But I can’t stay out of danger.”

***

“We’re holding position at the final deployment point,” Armstrong reported.

“There are no signs we’ve been detected,” Tara added.  “The SAS should be able to deploy without problems.”

John nodded.  Getting out wouldn't be hard, unless the Indians decided to radically expand their exercise schedule.  It looked as though they were practicing dogfighting rather than search and locate patterns.  They didn't seem to be doing too badly, as far as he could tell; he was already making notes in a file for the Admiral’s tactical staff.  But any weaknesses he saw in their formations would probably be corrected by the time the task force arrived.

“Very good,” he said.  He keyed his console.  “Major Drake?”

“We’re ready, Captain,” Drake said.  “Thank you for the lift.”

“You’re welcome,” John said.  He wanted to tell the SAS officer to make sure he kept a laser link to the platforms, but he knew Drake would know his job.  No one passed Selection without being
very
capable, even at the start.  “Have a good one, Major.  You may undock at leisure.”

“Just make sure you get home alive,” Drake said.  “The task force is going to need your intelligence too.”

John nodded.  The connection broke.

“Captain,” Tara said.  “The shuttle has undocked.”

“Hold our position,” John ordered.  “We’ll let them get some distance before we take our leave.”

Chapter Fifteen

Stealth Shuttle
Sneaky Bastard
, Pegasus System

“You know,” Jimmy said, as he sat down in the stealth shuttle.  “This ship needs a name.”

Percy shrugged and connected his suit to the shuttle’s support system.  Oddly, he’d done a handful of covert insertions himself, although not in a first-class stealth shuttle.  They couldn't risk any transmissions, even very low-power microbursts.  Flying in the suits would be bad enough, but being detected by the Indians would be worse.  The shuttle might as well be made of glass for all the protection it would give them against incoming fire.

“It
has
a name,” Corporal Ed Hill said.

“It has a set of numbers,” Jimmy said.  “There isn't a proper name.  It’s bad luck for a ship not to have a proper name.”

“We’re not smacking a bottle of bubbly into the hull,” Lewis said.  The sergeant smiled in a manner Percy found more than a little alarming.  “I’m not going home to explain to a court martial board precisely how we managed to break an expensive shuttle.”

“We're going to break it anyway,” Jimmy pointed out.

“You flew in helicopters and none of them had names,” Lewis snapped.

“Yes, they did,” Hill said.  “No one dared write them down, but they did have proper names.”

“Pick a name,” Drake said, as he took his seat next to the pilot.  “Something we can be proud of when we read it in the history books.”

“
SAS Rules
,” Rupert offered.  He snickered.  “Or
Fuck Off.
”

“I was going to suggest
Sneaky Bastard
,” Jimmy said.  “It suits her, doesn't it?”

“Very well,” Drake said.  “I hereby name this ship the
Sneaky Bastard
and may God help all who fly in her.  Now, take your places and prepare for departure.”

Hill smiled.  “The flight to some godforsaken patch of rock is about to depart,” he said, in shrill falsetto.  “In line with our standard policies, the food served will be anything but edible, no matter how much you harass the stewardesses.  The pilot is drunk” - Percy had to conceal a smile as Corporal Cook, the pilot, made a one-fingered gesture without looking round - “the co-pilot is mad and the stewardesses all got engaged last week to the same Para.”

“The lucky bugger,” Jimmy said.

“And the guy sitting next to you is so fat you’ll be squashed against the window and you’ll want to hurl every time you look at him,” Hill continued.  “And ...”

“That will do,” Drake said.  He glanced over his shoulder.  “Is everyone suited, buckled and ready to go?”

“Yes, sir,” Lewis said.  The troopers rapidly checked and rechecked their equipment; Lewis inspected Percy’s gear carefully before reluctantly nodding.  “All checked and ready to go.”

A quiver ran through the shuttle as she undocked from
Warspite
.  “We’re on our way,” Drake said.  “Get some sleep.  You’ll need it.”

Percy sighed inwardly as he closed his eyes.  Lewis had told him, in no uncertain terms, that electronic players, e-readers and music boxes were strictly forbidden.  They simply couldn't risk using
anything
that might produce an electronic signature the Indians could detect.  He would have liked to bring a book, but it would be impossible to handle one in his suit.  And taking off the suit, even for a brief moment, was also forbidden.  They would have no other protection if the shuttle sprung a leak.

“I could always tell a story,” Jimmy offered.  “There was this girl back in Las Vegas ...”

“Which ends with you fleeing the city ahead of a hundred policemen and a dozen outraged fathers,” Lewis interrupted.  “Don’t you have any stories that aren't about sex, drugs and rock and roll?”

“I’m hurt, Sergeant,” Jimmy said.  “To think that I would waste time talking about drugs and rock and roll.  Honestly!”

Lewis snorted.  “Just get some sleep, Jimmy,” he ordered.  “There’s a long walk ahead of us.”

Percy smiled to himself - Jimmy’s stories were even less plausible than Uncle Al’s - and forced himself to sleep.  There was no point in remaining awake for the five hours it would take to reach the moon’s atmosphere - and besides, there was nothing they could do if the Indians happened to detect them.  He wasn't sure quite what the Indians would do, but they’d either be killed out of hand or forced to surrender.  Either one would bring his war to an undignified end. 

The alarm jerked him awake, hours later.  He glanced around in shock, cursing the spacesuit under his breath; four and a half hours in the suit hadn’t done wonders for the smell.  Lewis was talking quietly over the network, briefing the troopers on the atmospheric conditions ahead of them.  They didn't sound pleasant.  Percy allowed himself to feel relieved that Corporal Cook was flying the shuttle, instead of him, even though it would leave him and the others feeling utterly helpless.  There was something about flying through turbulence that unnerved him, no matter how many times he’d been in more danger on the ground.  The risks of dying were considerably higher in a war zone ...

He forced the thought out of his mind as the shuttle altered course slightly, banking towards the moon.  Clarke III didn't look any different, he noted; it was still an icy world, reflecting the light of the gas giant back into space.  He silently calculated the location of the colony, hoping that Cook didn’t make a mistake and put them down in an ocean, or the other side of the moon.  Either one would prove fatal.

“We’ll be entering the atmosphere in twenty minutes,” Cook informed them.  His tone turned mischievous.  “If you want to go to the toilet, now is the time.”

Percy rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge no one could see him behind his visor.  They were in suits, not uniforms; if they needed to go, they had to go inside the suits.  It wasn't a very pleasant process, but it beat trying to get out of the suits in the cramped passenger compartment.  And yet ... he understood why the troopers kept joking, even as they drew closer to their destination.  If they started to think about just what they were doing, they might freeze up ...

And in the middle of combat
, he thought grimly,
freezing could prove fatal
.

“Get into landing positions,” Lewis ordered.  “Captain?”

“It will be a rough landing,” Drake confirmed.  “And we’ll have to move out as soon as we’re down.”

Percy sucked in a breath as he shifted position.  The last time he’d flown through the moon’s atmosphere, it had been on a standard shuttle, without any need to hide.  They’d been able to alter course as necessary, just to avoid threats from snowstorms and other high-altitude disturbances.  Now ...
Sneaky Bastard
wouldn't be able to avoid anything unless Cook wanted to run the risk of being detected.  They’d just have to hope that the preselected flight path was clear of anything that might make the flight more interesting than any of the troopers would have preferred.

“Here we go,” Cook said.  “Try not to be sick.”

Percy swallowed hard as the shaking began. 
Sneaky Bastard
shuddered violently, as if she was slamming into a body of water rather than the moon’s thin atmosphere.  The sensation only grew worse as they plummeted further down towards the surface; he swallowed again and again, refusing to be sick inside the spacesuit.  It would be uncomfortable, he knew from bitter experience, and he would just have to endure until they finally set up camp near the colony.  There was nothing else he could do.  Somehow, he managed to keep his gorge down as the shuttle levelled out, then started to shake again.

“Cookie,” Hill called.  “Are you
trying
to hit every last patch of turbulence?”

“Stop bitching,” Cook called back.  “You couldn’t do a better job!”

Sneaky Bastard
rang like a bell; Percy braced himself, convinced for a long second that they’d slammed into something solid.  Had they landed?  The shuttle dipped again, convincing him that they’d merely hit a rough patch of air.  He grabbed hold of the makeshift seat and held on for dear life, promising himself he’d never make fun of anyone on a commercial airliner ever again.  His mother had been
very
nervous the first and last time they’d flown together. 

“We need to turn around,” Jimmy said.  “I left my stomach somewhere back there!”

Percy laughed.  He wasn't the only one.

“It’s your own stupid fault for letting go of it,” Cook called.  “I hope you had it insured.”

“There was this bunch of girls in a bus,” Jimmy said, “and we were driving alongside them, wearing our uniforms.  And they started waving and flashing their tits at us.  It was great fun.  We followed them into a service station and got laid there ...”

Percy didn't believe a word of it, but the story was a welcome diversion.  It grew filthier and filthier as the shuttle levelled out again and flew straight for several minutes, then fell further into the atmosphere.  Jimmy had just reached the conclusion when Cook shouted for them all to brace themselves; Percy covered himself, just as there was a final terrifying crash.  The shuttle hit the ground hard enough to do real damage.  Pieces of debris fell all around them.

“Get up,” Lewis snapped, as one bulkhead caved in.  “Grab your packs and go!”

“There's nothing overhead,” Cook confirmed.  “The next starship entering visual range of this location will be overhead in fifteen minutes; I say again, we have fifteen minutes to hide the evidence.”

Percy unsnapped his suit from the chair and ran, snatching up his pack on the way out.  The landscape looked just as he remembered; white snow on the ground, twisted mountains in the distance ... and, looming over the entire moon, the dominant presence of Clarke III.  A light gust of snow blew across the landscape, hiding the tracks the shuttle had left when it had come down hard.  Five of the troopers hastily hid the shuttle below camo netting, ensuring that no one overhead would see her if they bothered to peer down at the surface.  The others - and Percy - moved the supplies away from the shuttle and concealed them under the snow, waiting for the moment they started the march to the colony.  When he looked back, the remains of the shuttle were almost impossible to see.

Lewis caught his attention.   “We move in twenty minutes,” he said, using hand signals.  It was too dangerous to risk radio transmissions, not with the Indians holding the high orbitals.  “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Percy signalled back.

The troopers hastily sorted out the supplies, then started the long march to the colony.  Percy found it oddly relaxing; he’d been on forced marches on Vesy and, despite being trapped in a spacesuit, he had to admit that marching on Clarke III was considerably easier.  It wasn't so hot or awkward; the only real danger was being spotted from orbit and the suits were camouflaged to make it hard for the Indians to notice them.  Drake set a hard pace, but seemed willing not to push the limits too far.  They might have to fight when they reached their destination.

I hope not
, Percy thought.  Seventeen men couldn't hope to overwhelm the Indian defenders, not when the Indians were supported by orbiting starships.  He was sure the troopers would give a good account of themselves, but the outcome would be inevitable. 
We need to dig in and find a way to scout out the Indian positions
.

It was nearly five hours before they started to cross through terrain that looked familiar, terrain Percy recalled from the exercises they’d held on Clarke before they’d been summoned to Cromwell and Vesy.  The troopers paused for a brief conference, then altered course slightly so they would be climbing up the rear of the mountain between them and the colony in hopes of avoiding detection.  Percy was silently grateful for the mountaineering course he’d taken during training - and then the climbing he’d been encouraged to do on his first leave - as he followed Lewis up the treacherous slope.  The troopers, it seemed, had no difficulty whatsoever handling the climb.

They are the best of the best
, Percy reminded himself, as they reached a suitable vantage point. 
And they’ve fought all over the world
.