A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (28 page)

“On the record, of course not,” the captain said.  He smiled.  “Off the record, the British Government cannot afford to back down.  If it does, it conveys an impression of weakness that other enemies will be quick to capitalise upon.  The more times the government backs down, the harder it will be to convince the
next
set of aggressors that the government is serious about fighting
this
time.  The Indians have basically forced us into a position where we have to fight or surrender - and they gambled we would surrender.”

“But we haven’t,” Penny said.

“That flips the problem into
their
lap,” the captain said.  “If
they
back down now,
they
look weak; they’d have problems convincing others that they would fight, if pushed.  India has more natural enemies we do too; both China and Russia have reason to fear Indian influence in East and Central Asia.  They’ve gambled their way into a position where their only
real
hope is to win the war on the cheap, to do it without losing one or both of their carriers.”

“Because the Chinese might stab them in the back, even if they beat us,” Penny muttered.

“Of course,” the captain agreed.  “The Chinese would even be able to claim that they were enforcing the Great Power system.”

“And so all we can do is carry on the war,” Penny said.  She shook her head in amused disbelief.  “There’s no room for a compromise, is there?”

“There's nothing to compromise
with
,” the captain pointed out.  “Anything we could reasonably offer them would be seen as a sign of weakness, a sign that being aggressive gets you rewards.  Either we win or they win with no middle ground.”

“We could offer them Vesy,” Penny suggested.  “There isn't anything there we
want
.”

The captain shook his head.  “That’s arguable,” he said.  “The Indians would certainly be able to gain a great deal, simply by controlling access to the natives.  They’d also be able to take advantage of their insights into our technology, if the Indians start training them in human methods ...”

“They’re primitives,” Penny snapped.  She knew that wasn't entirely fair, but they’d taken her prisoner and would have eaten her, perhaps, if the Indians hadn't ransomed her.  It was hard to consider them anything other than barbarians.  “They’re not going to open the doorway to tramline-free FTL.”

“How do you know?”  The captain asked.  “The Tadpoles introduced us to plasma cannons - we had the theory, we could just never get them to work.  Now, we’ve actually improved on the design; the latest generation of human-built plasma weapons are an order of magnitude more powerful than anything the Tadpoles deployed.”

“That you know about,” Penny said, tartly.  She couldn't imagine the Tadpoles declining to improve their own technology while humanity developed its own.  “They will have advanced themselves, won’t they?”

“Probably,” the captain agreed.  “They
did
design their fleet mix to overwhelm ours - or so they thought.  New Russia proved they certainly had the advantage against our modern warships.  In that case, we inspired them; hell, the concepts the Vesy learned from human contact were already causing innovation amongst their city-states when we had to leave the planet for good.  I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the suggestion that we couldn't learn anything from them.”

Penny scowled.  “But the Tadpoles ... the Tadpoles know that solid matter is composed of atoms,” she said, searching for something simple.  “They understand the universe around them on a level the Vesy can’t match.  The Vesy still think that chanting loudly brings the favour of the gods.”

“Yet,” the captain said.  He cleared his throat.  “But this is a little off-topic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Penny agreed.  She sighed inwardly.  It wasn't easy to admit she was bored, but perhaps she should.  Half of her insights into the war would never get past the censors - and if she tried, she’d wind up in the brig.  She spent far too long watching movies, reading books and writing long emails to Hamish.  “It’s quite a way off-topic.”

She turned to look at the display.  “I meant to ask,” she said.  It wasn't
precisely
a lie - the issue had been bugging her for weeks.  “Why doesn't Clarke III have its own name?  Half the public seems convinced we’re attacking a planet rather than a moon?”

The captain shrugged.  “It’s generally the practice for the settlers to name their world, if it wasn't already named by the discoverer,” he said.  If he was surprised by the question, he didn't show it.  “I imagine the settlers will hold a referendum on the question in a year or so, once everything is nicely established.  They’ll have plenty of time to choose a name.”

Penny smiled.  “Penny is a lovely name.”

“Find your own planet,” the captain said, dryly.  “You get to name it whatever you please.”

“Fat chance,” Penny said.  “Most exploration missions are run by either governments or large corporations.  I couldn't buy an exploration ship for love or money.”

“Probably not,” the captain agreed.  “But you
could
add a name to the list of
suggested
planetary names.”

“It sounds a bit pointless,” Penny mused.  “You can name the world, if you discover it, but you can only choose from a list of pre-approved names.”

“It could be worse,” the captain pointed out.  “The first men to land on Mars, Venus, Titan and Terra Nova all had to say lines that were carefully scripted by PR hacks.  After that, it became more acceptable to say ‘I claim this world for my country.’”

“True,” Penny said.  “I ...”

She broke off as an alarm buzzed.  “Captain?”

The captain held up a hand as he keyed his console.  “Report!”

“Captain,” Tara said.  “We just picked up a warning from the stealthed platforms.  A number of Indian starships are leaving orbit.”

“Understood,” the captain said.  “I’m on my way.”

He glanced at Penny.  “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”

“Good luck, captain,” Penny said.  “And thank you.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Pegasus System

“Report,” James barked, as he strode into the CIC.  “What do we have?”

“Admiral,” Sally said.  “Two large flotillas of Indian ships have departed Clarke.”

James sat and keyed his console, activating the main display.  “Where are they going?”

“Unsure,” Sally said.  “They’re not heading towards us or any of the tramlines.”

James frowned.  The time-delay was a problem - the Indians could have changed course already and he wouldn't know about it for at least ten minutes - but the more he looked at it, the less sense it made.  Sally was right; the Indians didn't seem to have
any
real destination in mind.  They’d have to alter course before they travelled too far from Clarke to do anything.

Unless they’re trying to convince us to attack Clarke
, he thought, slowly. 
They might not realise we know about the mass drivers
.

“Admiral,” Sally warned.  “Three more fleets have been detected leaving Clarke.  The total
apparent
ship count is over seventy, including three carriers.”

James looked down at the display, shaking his head in disbelief.  The Indians didn't
have
seventy ships, not in Pegasus.  And if they'd had three carriers, they would have pushed for a decisive battle as soon as possible.  No, those carriers had to be fakes, drones posing as enemy ships.  They’d probably copied the tactic from the raiders he’d sent to keep the Indians on alert. 

They’d know we wouldn't be fooled
, he thought.  They might manage to get away with inflating their ship count, but only if they stuck to smaller ships.  A carrier couldn't be faked realistically.  There was no way the Indians could believe that
anyone
would be convinced by the fake carriers.  And that meant ... what? 
Do they want us to know the carriers are faked
?

He contemplated it for a long moment.  The Indians
had
to want him to know; there was no other possibility that made any kind of sense.  Did they truly believe he’d be unable to determine which carrier was the real one?  Or were they intent on forcing him to keep an eye on all five dummy fleets?  One of them might well be real.

Or they might all have some real ships
, he mused. 
But if they come into close range, it would be easier to determine which ones are real and which ones are fakes.

“Admiral,” Sally said.  “The task force is requesting orders.”

James nodded, slowly.  “Signal to
Warspite
,” he ordered.  It would be at least eight minutes before
Warspite
received her orders and sixteen before James knew she was ready to carry them out, but there was no way to avoid it.  “She is to probe the edge of the Indian defence zone and attempt to confirm if the carrier remains in orbit.”

“Aye, sir,” Sally said.

“And order the task force to stand by,” James added.  Even if the Indians changed course immediately, it would still be hours before they came into engagement range.  “Yellow alert; I say again, yellow alert.”

“Yes, sir,” Sally said.

James forced himself to relax, thinking hard.  It was hard to escape the impression the Indians were taunting him; they’d launched five separate fleets they
knew
he’d recognise as fakes, right from the start.  And yet, he couldn't afford to completely dismiss them.  One of those fleets might be real, protecting a full-sized fleet carrier.  Or he might be meant to allow himself to be mesmerised by the sheer weight of firepower drifting through the system.  It might be intended to keep him from noticing the
real
threat.

“Order the escort ships to launch an additional shell of sensor drones,” he said.  “I want to know about it if something comes within a million kilometres of our location, stealthed or not.”

“Aye, sir,” Sally said.

“And signal the foreign observers,” James said.  A number of ships were already retreating from the task force, but others were obstinately remaining where they were.  “Inform them that local space might be about to get hot.”

He sat back in his chair, watching the Indians closely.  They didn't seem inclined to alter course, but there was nothing to be gained by powering out of the system.  The only scenario that made sense was that they thought they could escape his sensors entirely, then reverse course and strike him in the rear, but he’d already covered his back.  Unless the
real
ships were making a beeline for him in stealth mode ...

They’ll be inclined to gamble
, he thought, coldly.  There was no easy way to avoid it. 
The long-term advantage lies with us
.

“Inform me the moment
Warspite
responds,” he ordered.  If the
real
carrier was still in orbit around the gas giant, he had some manoeuvring room.  “And signal
Hotchpotch. 
I want them to confirm the second carrier is still in the Vesy System.”

Unless they’ve replaced that carrier with a drone and slipped it into this system
, he thought, darkly.  There were too many options if the Indians were prepared to gamble he wouldn't try to attack Gandhi.  Putting one carrier into the system without being detected, certainly not at such long range, wouldn't be difficult. 
But they’d still need to get into attack range before they launched their fighters
.

He scowled at the display showing the foreign ships.  There was no way he could take his own ships into stealth, not when the foreigners would point the Indians right to him.  He could order them away from the task force, but not all of them would obey and opening fire on them would be a PR disaster.  It had been
far
simpler when they’d been fighting the Tadpoles.

But then we were also fighting to the finish
, he reminded himself. 
Or so we thought
.

***

“Captain,” Tara said.  “I believe the carrier is still in position.”

John leaned forward.  “How can you be sure?”

“She’s launching starfighters,” Tara said.  “I think they’re sweeping local space for drones.”

“Looks that way,” Howard agreed.  “Unless they’ve managed to find a way to fake starfighters.”

John rather doubted it.  Unless the Indians had made a breakthrough, drones capable of faking starfighters convincingly would be staggeringly expensive.  It would be cheaper to fly starfighters on remote control, even though it would be blindingly obvious that that was what they were doing within minutes.  Combat AI simply couldn't cope with the decisions required to fly a starfighter into combat. 

But we were always wary about actually creating artificial intelligence
, John reminded himself.  Countless movies about rogue AIs turning on their creators had left a scar. 
The Indians might have decided to violate the taboo.

“Prepare to pull us back,” he ordered.  The last thing he wanted was to be detected and overwhelmed by a flight of starfighters.  “Communications, raise the Admiral.  Inform him that we have confirmed the presence of one fleet carrier in orbit around Clarke.”

“Aye, sir,” Gillian said.

John nodded as he studied the display.  The Indians were playing at something, but what?

“See if you can determine how many of those destroyers are real,” he added, after a moment’s thought.  The Indians had concentrated their forces, following the task force’s arrival; they hadn't even diverted ships to serve as convoy escorts.  “They may be trying to dupe us into believing the carrier is unescorted.”

But surely they wouldn't have deliberately shown us more ships than they have
, he thought, as Tara went to work. 
They’d know we’d deduce that that were fakes ...

He scowled, inwardly.  What if they
weren't
fakes?  What if the Indians had secretly managed to build or buy more ships than MI6 had realised?  The Russians were desperately short of foreign currency; they could easily have transferred a handful of smaller ships to the Indians in exchange for hard cash.  It wasn't as if the Russians would feel obliged to warn anyone, either.  Whatever had happened to isolate them from the other Great Powers, it had clearly been bad.  They might want a little indirect revenge.

“I think some of the ships are real,” Tara said, slowly.  “But others are definitely drone-created images.”

John frowned.  “I see,” he said.  “Upload the data to the Admiral.”

“Aye, sir,” Tara said.

***

“The fleets are on their way, General,” his aide said.

Anjeet nodded, curtly.  The British didn't realise it, but they had an advantage.  His dispersed forces were so far apart that coordinating would be a bitch, while the British were concentrated in one location.  They
would
have problems working out which of the starships were actually
real
, but once they figured it out they’d find it easier to react than any of the dispersed Indian formations. 

And I can't take command directly
, he thought, sourly. 
I have to remain with the carrier
.

He gritted his teeth.  The Prime Minister had told him to stay with the carrier, pointing out that India could hardly afford to lose one of its most experienced officers.  Anjeet had argued that the carrier would draw fire, to which the Prime Minister had countered that it was also the most heavily-defended ship in the fleet.  It was galling - he disliked the thought of remaining in safety while his men plunged into danger - but it did have some advantages.  He could coordinate the dispersed fleets from the Flag Bridge ...

But not command the engagements personally
, he told himself. 
My orders would be out of date before they were even issued
.

“Order the fleets to execute Kali One on the designated moment,” he ordered, finally.  The British would see the ships coming, but that was part of the point.  “And inform Admiral Joshi that he may deploy the ... special units when he sees fit.”

“Aye, sir,” his aide said.

Anjeet cursed under his breath.  The greatest naval battle since Operation Nelson - and the first major space battle between two human navies - and he, the commander of one side, was effectively stuck on the sidelines.  His counterpart would be right in the thick of it.  If only he hadn't been given orders not to risk the carrier ...

But at least the British will get a surprise
, he thought. 
And if they are disabled, I can finish them off personally
.

***

“Admiral,” Sally reported.  “The Indian ships are altering course.”

“They must have altered course simultaneously,” James commented.  The display showed the Indian formations changing course one by one, but in reality they’d probably started their movements at the same time.  “They’re heading towards us - confirm.”

“Yes, sir,” Sally said.  “Indian One will be within firing range in two hours, seventeen minutes; Indians Two through Five will be within firing range in two hours, thirty minutes.”

“Expect Indian One to slow at some point,” James said.  Given the problems they’d had to face, the Indians had done remarkably well.  It
looked
as though his fleet was being attacked from several different angles at once.  The reporters were probably even taking the reports of fleet carriers for granted.  “Launch a new spread of drones towards each of the oncoming formations.”

“Aye, Admiral,” Sally said.

James sat back in his chair, thinking hard. 
Warspite
had confirmed that one carrier and a number of smaller ships remained in orbit over Clarke, which meant that at least thirty of the ships in the advancing formations had to be fakes.  The carriers definitely were, unless the Indians had sneaked the
second
carrier into Pegasus - and if they had, he’d still be reasonably confident about a battle.  There would be the danger of the
first
carrier getting involved, but if he smashed one ship he could mousetrap the other.