His Majesty's Starship (23 page)

“Is it anything you didn’t have backed up?” Hannah said.

“No, but-”

“Quiet then.” Hannah realised she was still kneeling, a convenient target for any more incoming fire that might pass their way. She lay down flat again and flipped the aide open. “Get me
Ark Royal
.”

“This unit is unable to contact
Ark Royal
,” said the aide.

“Damn. Can you reach any ship in orbit?”

“Attempting.” Pause. “Negative.”

“Why not?”

“All microwave signals from this area are being jammed.”

“Listen,” said Samad, interrupting Hannah in mid-curse. The fighting had stopped and there was only silence. She could hear her heart beat.

Then an amplified voice spoke out, echoing around the building.

“This is Brigadier Rao, commander of Confederation operations on the ground. The Dome and its vicinity are now under the control of the Confederation. All humans in the vicinity are instructed to make their way to the central area of the Dome.”

Samad had gone pale: Hannah put an arm around her husband and squeezed in sympathy. Samad’s father had fled persecution in the Punjab and settled in Bangladesh, in vain: as a child, after his native Bangladesh was overrun, Samad had sailed in a crowded and rickety boat across the Bay of Bengal and grown up in the refugee camps in Thailand. Samad had always lived with the knowledge that his own country was occupied by the forces of the Confederation and whenever things had got hard he had comforted himself that it could be worse – he could be back in Bangladesh. Now the Confederation had caught up with him.

“We’d better go,” she said. He looked at her without comprehension. “Downstairs,” she said. “Like the man said. Before they come looking for us.”

“Yes ... yes, you’re right ...” he murmured. He only seemed half there and Hannah had to guide him out of the door and into the corridor.

A party of soldiers was coming the other way, kicking open each door as they passed it and checking inside. Hannah felt their gaze on her back as she and Samad walked along the corridor round the edge of the Dome, then down the staircase and into the open space that was the Dome’s core. Other humans were arriving slowly, walking reluctantly into who knew what fate. Soldiers were everywhere, guns raised, eyes darting suspiciously over the captives. The Dome’s lounge had been converted into an ad hoc field hospital.

They joined a queue to walk between two soldiers and Samad’s hand in hers tightened its grip when they saw the uniforms – pale green, in contrast to the more usual Defence Force camouflage. Samad was reacting as Hannah’s forebears had once reacted to black uniforms with silver lacing and deathsheads. These were NVN, the elite, the mainstay of their captors’ military power, and their reputation was legendary.

Each person ahead of them had to produce identification: some nationalities were then herded into the middle, some were not. One of the NVN would wave an instrument over each individual, confiscating aides and investigating anything else that the machine discovered with an alarmed beep. Hannah was first: she surrendered her aide and produced her id-chip, which an NVN man scanned. Then she turned to wait for Samad.

The NVN man was looking from Samad, to his id-chip, to Samad again.

“Your name is Samad Loonat?” he said.

“Yes,” Samad said.

The man half-smiled. “Your nationality?”

“I am a citizen of the United Kingdom.” Samad was holding the man’s gaze but his voice trembled.

Now the man grinned. “It says here you were born in Sylhet, East Bengal Prefecture, in 2115.”

“It’s incorrect,” Samad said. “I was born that year in Sylhet, Bangladesh.”

The man’s grin vanished and Hannah felt as though someone had stabbed her through the heart. But Samad held his head high, proud and noble. Hannah had never known he had it in him and she loved him for it.

“There is no Bangladesh,” the NVN man said, but he handed Samad’s id-chip back. “You would be advised to get used to it. Move along.”

Hannah grabbed Samad’s hand and pulled him away into the centre space where everyone else milled nervously around under the gaze of the guns. “Do something like that again,” she hissed, “and I’ll kill you myself.”

A tall NVN man with a moustache and a lean, ruthless face came to stand among the prisoners, flanked by alert soldiers. “Your attention, please. I am Brigadier Rao and you are being held provisionally by the forces of the Confederation. For the moment, pending the formal acquiescence of your superiors and the surrender of your ships, you will be kept here. Food and drink will be served shortly.

“Excellency Krishnamurthy has been in contact with the First Breed leader Iron Run to explain his actions. I am authorised to play you the message that was sent and I trust that no further explanation will be needed.” He nodded at a couple of his men, who while he spoke had been setting up a playback unit with military speed and efficiency. A larger-than-life image of a beaming Krishnamurthy appeared and started to speak.

“Greetings to Iron Run, Senior of the First Breed nation. By the time you receive this message, I will be in charge of all human affairs in this system. You are probably wondering at my reasoning for this apparently impetuous action and at the various minor infractions of your laws that my people have committed at my command.”

Mild curiosity, yes, thought Hannah. She glanced at Samad, who scowled at the image with undisguised loathing.

“Ever since your arrival in our home system, I have studied your ways. I have spent many, many fascinating hours, days, going through your information pack and talking to your representative on
Shivaji
. I have read about your wars and conflicts here on the Roving.

“On Earth, during a legal case, the counsels for prosecution and defence are obliged to reveal all their evidence to each other. If there is something in the evidence that one side does not want the other to have, often their tactic is to submit everything, every single datum, however irrelevant, to cloud the important data. Of course, this signals to the opposition that there is important data to be had: the problem is to find it. To deduce it.”

Krishnamurthy’s beam increased in intensity. Hannah found it almost amusing, this proud little man lecturing the Rusties on their own thought processes.

“That, Iron Run, is why you have bombarded us with so much information about your race. You have deliberately scattered clues in our path; you want us to work out the true facts and prove ourselves worthy partners. Well, that is what we have done.” Despite herself, Hannah was finding this fascinating.

“Your race has had wars, Iron Run. You are no stranger to conflict. When you first appeared to us you know we tried to hide our own history of combat. We need not have worried because your ancestors have certainly matched ours in aggression.

“And your ancestors have followed an invariable pattern in victory. To impose their will on another nation that has been defeated in combat, they executed the Seniors and imposed their own. Invariably! It is the First Breed way. Do you see the parallel, Iron Run? By imposing my power on these people, I have made their nations my nation. That is what has happened on this world, is it not? Once, there were many nations; now, there is one and it is led by you, Iron Run. And why is this? Clearly, because all others have been subjugated. My action today should have convinced you that we of the Confederation understand your ways. We can work with you.

“I apologise that, to get my men on the ground, I was forced to disobey orders from your Traffic Control. I apologise that in a couple of instances my men were obliged to discharge air-to-air missiles in your airspace. I stress that no one was hurt in these cases and that these were purely to expedite my chosen course of action: that course of action being, to pass the test that you set us.

“Let me also assure you that my intentions towards the human hostages I am forced to take are purely benign. I wish them no harm and their fate is out of my hands. I have planned measures to convince their leaders of my resolve and it is my hope that I will not be forced to implement them.

“Let me repeat, worthy Iron Run, that this conflict is purely internal to the humans in this system. The Convocation may proceed tomorrow as planned, but with a reduced number of attendees. Instead of the original number there will be the Confederation and as many of our allies as have joined us by then. That is the matter to which I must now attend.” For the first time, Krishnamurthy actually grinned. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

The image froze, then cleared. Rao looked about him.

“That is the situation,” he said. “His Excellency will now interview each of the leaders of the delegations individually. We trust that they will see reason and that we will not have to take-”

He slapped the holster at his belt and his gaze roamed over the prisoners. It distinctly lingered on Samad, and Rao smiled without mirth when it did so.

“-further persuasive measures,” he said.

- 18 -

21 May 2149

“... in, please.
Ark Royal
, come in please.
Ark Royal
, can you hear me? Come in, please, oh shit,
Ark Royal
, come in-”

Michael Gilmore quickly blanked the letter that he had been composing for Joel and answered the call.

“This is
Ark Royal
. What’s the problem?” Gilmore was already drawing up a list in his mind. With that degree of alarm in Nichol’s voice, someone must be hurt. Get the medbay out of storage. Alert one of the bigger ships with a proper hospital on board to stand by-

“They’ve been kidnapped! They just swooped down, and they shot at me, and they told me to pull out, and they’ve been kidnapped, and-”

“Mr Nichol!” The gabble from the radio stopped in mid-flow. “Now, in words of one syllable, what’s happened?”

There was a pause at the other end while Nichol collected his thoughts together. Then he spoke, more slowly but still frightened. “I was on my way to the RV, to collect Julia and Peter, and suddenly there was this voice telling me to pull up, and they shot a missile to show they meant it-”

“Who?” said Gilmore in disbelief.

“Um, two landing boats, sir. Didn’t show up on radar. They just appeared behind me-”

“Did you get a look at these boats?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any insignia on them? Any identification?” A ghastly thought occurred to Gilmore. “Were they human?”

“They were human, sir. They had that whirly wheel thing on them. I think they were the Confederation, sir.”

Whirly wheel. The wheel of law. But at least the Rusties hadn’t turned nasty.

“Go on,” Gilmore said.

“Well, I tried to shake them off but while I was doing that one of them just went on and picked them up anyway. By the time I got to the rendezvous it was too late ... the others tried to nail me on the way back up, too, sir, only Arm Wild had words with them and then they backed off sharpish.”

“You’ve got Arm Wild there?” Having one of the First Breed on board, Gilmore thought, was probably Nichol’s go-anywhere card.

“Yes, sir. I tried to fly him to Capital but they said they couldn’t guarantee their automatic defences wouldn’t shoot us down, so we’re coming up.”

Go-anywhere safe, rather, Gilmore thought.

“All right, Lieutenant, I’ll expect you both.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Comms,” said Gilmore. “Get me Julia Coyne or Peter Kirton.”

“I am unable to establish contact with their aides,” said the comms AI. Gilmore swore. He had wanted to help Kirton snap out of himself and all he had done was make him available to those who wanted what was in Kirton’s head. They had probably tracked
Sharman
’s outward journey from orbit. Good work, Michael Gilmore. One of your better decisions.

“Get me Prince James,” he said, biting his lip.

“I am unable to establish contact with his aide. A blanket of microwave signals at our common frequencies has been laid around this world.” Then, “a message is being sent from
Shivaji
to all delegation ships.”

“Let’s hear it.”

The message began.

“This communication is sent on behalf of Excellency R.V. Krishnamurthy to the captains and crews of all delegation vessels in orbit around the Roving at 19:27 hours. Greetings. As of 19:00 hours Capital time, the forces of the Confederation and her allies have taken control of human affairs in this system. All delegates have been offered the chance to join our alliance and share in the rewards of the bid for the Roving. Those that have so far accepted are the delegates of the Northern Chinese Republic, the Pacific Consortium and the Southern African Republic. The ships of the delegates that have not done so will transmit their immediate surrenders to
Shivaji
and prepare to be boarded. We stress that our offer of alliance stays open and will remain so until the bid is won, and should any delegate choose to accept it before that time, his or her ship will be returned to its crew.

“Meanwhile, no communication or physical traffic unauthorised by the Confederation may take place between the Roving and orbit. Ground-based citizens of nations not presently allied with the Confederation are being held for their own safety on the Roving. Stand by for further announcements. This message now ends.”

Gilmore gazed into space. What did the maniac think he was doing? Were the Rusties just going to accept this?

Maybe they were. Krishnamurthy wouldn’t do something like this without planning, without looking ahead. He must have good reason for believing the Rusties would go along with his scheme.

Well, let the diplomats have their little squabbles downstairs but no one was going to take Gilmore’s ship away from him.

He glanced at the display showing the four ships that had surrounded
Ark Royal
ever since Polyglot’s existence became known. Their formation was a natural unit;
Ark Royal
could never hold out on her own. He took a deep breath, dreading what was coming. Supposing they said no? Supposing they laughed? Supposing he made a hash of it-

“Access the orbital net and find out who are the ranking officers currently on board
Algol
,
Bruxelles
,
Nikolai
and
Enterprise
.” he said.