A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (9 page)

“Local space is clear,” Tara reported.

It proved nothing, John knew.  A starship with her drives and active sensors shut down would be completely undetectable, except at very close range.  The Indians
could
have a watchdog spying on the tramline ... but they’d have to know, in advance, the precise coordinate where
Warspite
would materialise.  It wasn't impossible, he knew.  Just merely very unlikely.

“Launch the drone,” he ordered.  “Take us into stealth mode ...
now
.”

“Aye, sir,” Tara said.  There was a long pause.  “The drone is on its way to Tramline B.”

John nodded, once.  The beancounters would make a fuss - they never let a war get in the way of keeping costs as low as they could - but it didn't matter.  All that mattered was the simple fact that anyone watching
Warspite
from a distance would track the drone on its course to Tramline B, where it would deactivate itself.  They’d think that
Warspite
had left the system, rather than altering course to head to Tramline E.  If everything went according to plan, the Indians would never know that
Warspite
was on her way to Pegasus.

“Set course for Tramline E,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.  “Course laid in.”

“Engage,” John ordered. 

He smiled to himself.  Armstrong would, of course, have plotted out the course as soon as John had mentioned where they’d be going, then stored it in his console until the time came to bring it out.  It was a common technique. 
Warspite
thrummed again as she picked up speed, thrusting away from the tramline before anything else could come through and detect their presence.  He sat back in his command chair and forced himself to wait, keeping a sharp eye on the passive sensors.  If anyone
was
close enough to watch them without being detected, they’d have to reveal themselves now or lose track of
Warspite
.

“Commander Howard,” he said.  “You have the bridge.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said.  “I have the bridge.”

John nodded, stepped into his office and opened the secure drawer.  The sealed orders were where he’d left them; he plugged the datachip into his terminal, waited for the verification program to confirm that they had left Earth far behind and then sat down to read through the orders as soon as they were unlocked and displayed.  They were nothing more than a more detailed version of Admiral Fitzwilliam’s verbal instructions, he was relieved to note.  It wouldn't be the first time sealed orders had differed markedly from whatever the recipient had been told beforehand.

He uploaded the orders onto the datanet, rose and walked back onto the bridge.  Howard rose to his feet; John sat back down, motioned for Howard to read the orders quickly, then keyed his console.  It was time to inform the crew.

“All hands, this is the Captain,” he said.  Everyone would hear him, from the reporters to the SAS troopers in Marine Country.  “As some of you will have surmised, we are
not
heading for Britannia.  Our orders, instead, are to make our way to enemy-held territory and conduct a full tactical survey of their positions.  This is, of course, a somewhat more challenging mission than you may have expected.”

He smiled at the thought before continuing.  “We will proceed immediately up the tramlines to Pegasus and commence our mission,” he said.  “As it is imperative that we remain undetected, we will remain in stealth mode from this moment on.  We will
not
be opening communications links to anyone until we rendezvous with the remainder of the task force after completing this mission.  They are
depending
on us to succeed.

“This is not our first operation where we had to sneak through enemy territory, but it will be the most difficult,” he added.  “And yet, we have the experience to make it work.  The Indians will not even catch a
sniff
of us before we return to the task force.  I have faith in our ship - and in each and every one of you.  We will complete our mission and lay the groundwork for recovering our territory.”

He keyed his console again, closing the channel.  “Commander Howard,” he said.  “You have read the orders?”

“Yes, sir,” Howard said.  He didn't sound very surprised.  “I will make a note of it in my log.”

“Thank you,” John said.  He had to fight down the urge to ask just how much his XO had guessed before the sealed orders were revealed.  Howard was smart; he’d probably guessed the truth long before the SAS had arrived.  “Note also that the sealed orders were not disclosed ahead of time.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said.

John settled back in his command chair and forced himself to relax, as completely as he could.  It would take a fortnight, at the best speed they could manage while remaining in stealth mode, to reach Pegasus.  The Indians might have pickets watching for them, he knew; if he was in command of their fleet, he would have placed at least one watching scout in J-34, one jump from Pegasus.  An enemy ship advancing from Earth, thanks to the tramlines, would
have
to pass through that system.  There was simply no way to avoid it.

But we’re very tiny and space is very big
, he reminded himself. 
They won’t be able to spot us unless we get unlucky - or careless
.

“Inform the crew that one deck is to be put aside for the SAS, once they start training,” he ordered, curtly.  The presence of the SAS had been meant to be secret, although he suspected some of his crewmen had probably guessed who they were.  “And make sure it’s completely sealed off.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said.

“We'll discuss other aspects of the mission tonight,” John said.  He’d have to meet with the reporters at least once, even though he would have preferred to avoid it.  “But it can wait for the moment.”

He took one final look at the display, then forced himself to think about the future.  The voyage would be the easy part.  Hell, it would be boring once they slipped out of settled systems and away from watching eyes.  But once they reached Pegasus, the real fun would begin ...

... And if the Indians were on the prowl, he knew, getting close enough to deploy the stealth shuttle would be far from easy.

Chapter Eight

HMS
Warspite
, In Transit

“There's someone at the door,” Stevenson called.  They’d been told they could leave their cabin, once the starship had left Earth, but he’d spent most of his time just lying on the sofa.  “He wants to see you.”

“Oh,” Penny said.  She stood and peered out of the cabin.  “
Percy
?”

“Penny,” Percy said.  He didn't sound pleased.  “Can we talk?”

Penny nodded, slowly.  She had known he’d been assigned to
Warspite
for her first cruise, but she hadn't realised that he’d be returned to the ship after the disaster on Vesy.  Meeting him was a shock ... she hesitated, wondering if they could use the bedroom, then walked out of the cabin.  Percy would have to know somewhere they could go for a private chat.

“I suppose we can,” she said.  “Do you know anywhere private?”

Percy nodded and led her through a maze of corridors into the observation blister.  It was empty, thankfully; she ran forward and pressed her face against the transparent material, staring out into the vastness of interstellar space.  Countless stars burned steadily in the darkness, their unblinking gazes calling to her.  She knew, intellectually, that
Warspite
was making her way through space at unimaginable speeds, but it looked very much as though they were standing still.  The stars didn't seem to be moving at all.

“I was surprised to see you,” she confessed, once the hatch was firmly closed.  “Did you
know
you’d be returning to
Warspite
?”

“I was surprised to see
you
,” Percy said, gruffly.  “What are you doing here?”

“My job,” Penny snapped.  There were times when having an overprotective brother came in handy, but this wasn't one of them.  “Witnessing living history and sending reports back home.”

“So the enemy can read them with great interest,” Percy sneered.  He had never really approved of her career choice.  “Are you sure you won’t accidentally betray us?”

“Everything I write has to pass through the censors,” Penny snapped back.  “It’s not my fault if they miss something that might help the Indians!”

“They’ll probably overlook
tons
of useful information,” Percy muttered.  “I doubt they know which end of a rifle fires the bullets.”

“I’m sure the Indians do,” Penny said.  “Unless you’re expecting them to commit suicide when you land on Clarke.”

Percy tensed, slightly.  It would have been unnoticeable if she hadn't known him so well.

“I’m expecting hard fighting,” he said, finally.  Was he
planning
to land on Clarke?  She didn't like the thought, but it was his job.  “You could get yourself killed out here.”

“
You
could get yourself killed out here,” Penny said.  She crossed her arms under her breasts, scowling at him.  “This isn't a refugee camp, Percy, and I’m not a teenager any longer.”

“Thanks be to God,” Percy said.  “You were hellish as a teenager.”

Penny smirked.  “I could tell Canella all sorts of stories about
your
teenage years ...”

Percy’s expression darkened.  “She broke up with me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Penny said, sincerely.  She’d only met Canella once, but she’d liked the girl.  “Did the deployments get to her?”

“Yeah,” Percy said.  “I think she must have had second thoughts from the moment I said goodbye to her.  Being on a starship is a far cry from serving on the other side of the world.”

Penny nodded in agreement.  It only took seven hours to travel from one side of the world to the other - or it had, before the war.  The hypersonic jets that had once bound Earth together had largely been grounded, all services cancelled as the human race struggled to survive and rebuild.  Percy could have returned to Edinburgh every couple of months when he went on leave, if he wished; it was a great deal harder to travel between Earth and Vesy.  Canella hadn't seen him for over a year.

“Well, I’m sure you will find someone else,” she said, briskly.  “Are there any young women on the ship you might like?”

“If I have time,” Percy said.  “Do you know how hard it was to get a chance to come see you?”

Penny gave him a sharp look.  “No,” she said.  “What are you doing?”

“Training,” Percy said.  He held up one hand.  “And it’s classified, so please don’t ask about it.”

“I won’t,” Penny said.  She had a feeling that she was right, that Percy was going to land on Clarke, but she kept that thought to herself.  “It’s good to see you again, even if it is ...
here
.”

“I suppose,” Percy said.  “I'd be happier if you were safer, Pen-Pen.”

Penny felt her cheeks heat.  “I’m not a child any longer, Percy,” she said.  “And is there
anywhere
safe these days?”

It wasn't a pleasant thought.  They’d grown up in a safe environment; their father hadn't been wealthy, but he’d earned enough to give the family a security blanket and ensure that his children received a good education.  And then their father had gone off to war, their mother had vanished during the bombardment and they’d had to flee the onrushing waters in hopes of finding a safe place to rest.  She'd gone back to their home town later, after the area had been declared safe, only to discover that their home had been looted.  Everything they’d owned had been either stolen or destroyed by the waves.

They’d been lucky, she knew.  Admiral Fitzwilliam had taken them in, after the war; they’d had a measure of safety that few others had enjoyed.   And yet, there had been no guarantees of anything.  They’d worked in the Reclamation Corps before Percy had gone into the Royal Marines and she’d found work as a reporter, but it could easily have been worse.  She’d seen the bodies recovered from the waters and known she could have died there too.

“I suppose there isn't,” Percy said.  “But a war zone is even less safe than anywhere else.”

Penny rolled her eyes.  “Like I said, I’m not a child any longer,” she said.  “I knew the job was dangerous when I signed up for it.”

She cleared her throat.  “So ... do you have your eye on anyone?”

“Not yet,” Percy said.  “Who’s the milksop in your cabin?”

“A fellow reporter,” Penny said.  “He gets the sofa, I get the bed.”

“What a fair division of labour,” Percy murmured.  “So ... not a boyfriend then?”

“No,” Penny said.  “I’m still writing to Hamish, but ...”

“A Para,” Percy said, with mock horror.  “You’re dating a Para.  I’ll never be able to hold my head up in public again.”

Penny stuck out her tongue.  “Does it really matter who I date?”

“I just don’t want you hurt,” Percy said.  He sighed.  “Our parents had problems because dad was away, fighting the war.”

“I know,” Penny said.  She had no idea if Percy knew - she was damned if she was going to tell him, if he didn’t - but she was sure their mother had been having an affair.  And their father too, perhaps.  “I’m only writing to him, Percy.  There’s no guarantee of
anything
.”

“I suppose not,” Percy said.  “3 Para was earmarked for deployment, the last I heard, but they’re currently reforming after Vesy.  They may wind up being held back while 2 Para joined the task force.”

“His last message wasn't too clear,” Penny said.  “I had to tell him that I’d been accepted as an embed and that I wouldn't be able to email him for a while.”

“I have no idea what he’ll make of that,” Percy said.  “Some of the lads I served with were married.  They liked the thought of coming home to a wife and kids.”

“I suppose it would have its charms,” Penny said.  “Does it always work out?”

“We’re encouraged not to marry until we’ve completed our first deployments,” Percy said, softly.  “It can play merry hell with marriages.”

Penny gave him a sharp look.  “How would you know about that, Percy?”

“It’s one of the things we’re told in training,” Percy said.  “Being a marine means that your life no longer belongs to you.  Your service to the company comes first.”

He glanced at his watch.  “There isn't much time left,” he admitted.  “I’ll try to see you again before the shit hits the fan.”

“It can't be worse than Vesy,” Penny said.  She'd come far too close to death on the alien homeworld.  She still had nightmares, sometimes, about alien mobs closing in on her.  “Can it?”

“I hope not,” Percy said.  He shrugged.  “How did the Indians treat you?”

“They were decent enough,” Penny said.  “Once they had us, they tended to our wounds - those of us who were wounded - and then shipped us back to Earth.  I was half-hoping they’d give me a chance to embed with their forces, but they evidently thought better of it.”

“They’d have turned you into a propaganda mouthpiece,” Percy said.  “You wouldn't have been able to hold your head up in public again.”

“I imagine it would have been embarrassing,” Penny agreed, dryly.  “The Admiral would not have been pleased.”

She sighed.  “Did you have a chance to talk to him?”

“Not properly,” Percy said.  “I only saw him at a couple of debriefings, where he listened without speaking.  There was no chance for a private chat.”

Penny winced.  The Admiral was, perhaps, the only person they knew who could tell them how their father had died, but he’d refused to be drawn on the subject.  She’d researched it as best as she could, yet no matter what she did she kept running into stone walls.  There was a great deal of information in the public domain about the final flight of
Ark Royal
, but it only made it clearer just how much had been hidden.  How and why had their father died? 

If he’d died in the final battle, he would have been memorialised as such
, she thought.  There had to be
some
mystery surrounding his death.  An accident - or a suicide - wouldn’t have been covered up. 
Did he die on the Old Lady herself?

“I haven’t seen him for years,” she said.  “I actually turned down an invitation to the Christmas Ball because I was busy.”

“Go interview him,” Percy suggested.  “You’re a reporter, aren't you?  I’m sure he’ll be delighted to give you a proper interview.”

“I doubt it,” Penny said.  Apart from the PR officers, who could talk for hours on end about nothing at all, she had yet to meet a naval officer who was glad to see a reporter.  Percy probably didn't count.  “What would you say if I tried to interview
you
?”

Percy smirked.  “Just remember to describe me as a handsome, strong, clever, sophisticated, cunning, smart, snarky, alpha male ...”

“Oh, piss off and eat a dictionary,” Penny said.  She struck a writing pose.  “Corporal Percy is a smug conceited git ...”

“Lieutenant,” Percy said.  “I’m a Lieutenant now.”

“I notice you didn't deny the rest of it,” Penny said.  She smirked at his expression, then sobered.  “I don’t think the Admiral would be too pleased to get an interview request from me - I’d either have to be tough, which would irritate him, or soft-pedal.  And
that
would be held against me later.”

Percy frowned.  “It would?”

“He’s our guardian,” Penny reminded him, sarcastically.  “All right, we’re both adults now, but we haven’t broken the connection.  People will expect me not to be too hard on him.”

“So they’ll assume the worst,” Percy mused.  “That could be a problem.”