The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal) (30 page)

“Yes, sir,” Henry said.  “But would the aliens need them while they’re building an underwater colony?”

There might have been other signs the colonists had overlooked, he knew.  The aliens had presumably introduced plants and animals from their homeworld to Heinlein – and their biochemistry wouldn't have matched the local biology.  But there had been no reason to run any tests, not if the colonists had believed the planet to be completely undiscovered.  All they’d really had to do was ensure the local biochemistry was compatible with humanity or make sure their people knew not to eat it.

“So they believed us to be hostile,” the Admiral said, “and struck first?”

“One of the alien factions believed that to be the case,” Henry said.  “The other aliens call them the War Faction.  Sir ... the aliens don’t think like us.  I don’t think the War Faction is capable of considering any alternatives.  They’re ... I think they build up their factions around ideology and political concepts.  They don’t tend to let in other ideas.”

“How very human,” the Admiral observed.

“It’s more like a datanet chat forum,” Henry said.  “I
think
.  They chatter and chatter until the group only consists of aliens who agree with the group, with everyone else excluded from the consensus and sent off to find another group.  My
guess
, sir, is that this worked reasonably well when they were all on one world.  But when they went into space, the factions effectively became echo chambers.  There was no room for new ideas.”

“Like some of the asteroid colonies,” Janelle said, suddenly.  “My Grandfather’s colony was based around a specific religious group.”

“That would make sense,” the civilian said, slowly.  “The alien prisoners might be trying to convince each other of their respective ideologies, then sulking when they don’t get anywhere.  They’re just saying the same thing over and over again.”

Henry nodded.  Humanity had been moving towards a cultural union, some claimed, when space travel and interstellar settlement had become commonplace.  These days, there were worlds that attempted to build and maintain a national character – or a religious harmony – that had never really existed on Earth.  There had always been ideas creeping in from outside the cultural consensus.  But an isolated settlement might be able to maintain a cultural stasis that would endure for thousands of years.

He shivered, remembering some of the debates over religious-themed asteroids.  Was it right to allow disparate groups to settle their own asteroids, keeping their people isolated from any outside influences?  And then there had been the inevitable accusations of racism and attacks on religious liberty ...

“So the War Faction determined we were a threat and took steps to deal with us,” the Admiral mused.  “And the other factions did ... what?”

Henry hesitated.  “I
think
, sir, that the other factions were partly convinced,” he said.  “
We
might not be too happy if the situation was reversed and they landed on one of our worlds.  But once the war started going badly – and we didn't act like monsters – the other factions started having second thoughts.  They wanted to at least
try
to talk to us.”

“Good God,” the Admiral said.  “And the War Faction tried to stop them – twice, now.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said.

The civilian leaned forward.  “I’m going to have to go through everything you saw very carefully, Your Highness,” she said.  “Hopefully, we can actually
talk
to the aliens you brought with you.”

“They’re Ambassadors,” Henry said.  Or he thought they were.  The concept hadn't been easy to discuss.  “But I’m not entirely sure which factions they represent.”

“I assume they didn't show you anything militarily useful,” the Admiral stated.

“No,” Henry confirmed.  The aliens hadn't shown him anything he could use against them, except – perhaps – what he’d learned of their culture.  “I have no idea where they held us – or even how long it was since the battle.”

“Two months,” the Admiral said.

Henry shook his head in disbelief.  It had felt longer.  Much longer.

The Admiral cleared his throat.  “We also need to move from this location,” he added.  “By now, the aliens on Target One will be aware of our presence.  They will probably start screaming for help.”

“Yes, sir,” Henry said.  “I believe the aliens will accompany us, if necessary.”

The Admiral looked down at the table.  “I’d prefer to head further into alien space,” he said. slowly.  “I don’t think anyone would thank us for bringing an alien ship home.”

“They did on your first mission,” Henry pointed out.  But there was something odd about the way the Admiral spoke, as if he was contemplating something he didn't want to think about.  “But I think the aliens will be happy to escort you elsewhere.”

“No doubt,” the civilian said.  “I believe the other factions will be just as monomaniacal as the War Faction, just focused on different issues.  A faction that wants peace will be quite likely to do whatever it takes to
get
peace.”

Henry considered it, briefly.  There were no shortage of diplomats who were willing to make whatever concessions seemed necessary to get the other side to sign on the dotted line, even though the concessions were dangerously one-sided.  Diplomats hated to admit they’d failed, even when their negotiating partners were intractable.  But he hadn't seen that sort of insane single-mindedness from his captors, although he had to admit it was hard to be sure.  The aliens hadn't tried to actually
negotiate
with him.

Will they offer us concessions to keep us talking to them
, he asked himself,
or will they demand them from us to satisfy the other factions?

“Let us hope so,” the Admiral said.  He looked at Henry.  “Janelle will escort you to your new quarters, Your Highness.  I’m afraid I can't put you back on the flight roster right now.”

“No, sir,” Henry said, reluctantly.  It had been foolish, but part of him had dared to hope he could pass the diplomacy to the Admiral and return to a cockpit.  “Will I be able to speak to some of the other flyers?”

“Not all survived,” Janelle said, very quietly.  “Most of the pilots you knew were transferred elsewhere, in the wake of the Battle of Earth.”

Henry started.  “They attacked
Earth
?”

“Yes,” the Admiral said.  “And that will make peace negotiations very difficult.”

Ted had never taken part in high-level diplomatic meetings before the war.  Afterwards, when he’d been promoted to Admiral, most of his meetings had been little more than formalities, setting the seal on matters discussed and agreed by lower-ranking diplomats.  He hadn't regretted it.  Diplomats could spend hours discussing something of minor importance, laying the groundwork for later – more serious – discussions, while military officers had little time to debate their decisions.  Being a commanding officer of a starship was much simpler.

But this was different.

He watched through the monitors as human and alien diplomats met for the first time.  None of the humans looked particularly comfortable, although that might have been because of the alien environmental requirements rather than coming face to face with the aliens themselves.  Ted had a hunch the aliens were just as uncomfortable as their human counterparts, just for different reasons.  They’d probably prefer to be under the water, rather than half-sitting, half-standing in atmosphere, no matter how hot and moist the atmosphere was.

“It's working better than I hoped,” Polly said, from where she was standing beside him.  “It will be a long time before we have perfect translators, but between us we’ve managed to close the gap to the point we can actually
talk
to them and vice versa.”

Ted nodded.  The diplomats were talking in what amounted to baby talk and the aliens were doing it right back, often using computer displays to draw out what they meant, but it seemed to be working.  There was no time to use fancy words, let alone draw up an elaborate treaty, not when time was steadily ticking away.  Who knew when the War Faction would send more ships into the system?

He looked at Polly.  “Are you sure this is reliable?”

“We did a lot of work, they did a lot of work ... I think this is the best we can do, for the moment,” Polly confessed.  “I’ve been working with a couple of aliens on building up a shared system, but that’s been going slowly.  Their computer designs aren't that different from ours, Admiral, yet some of the underlying programs and operating systems are very different.  The techs think the aliens don't have any concept of a decentralised computer system, let alone a secure database.”

“They must have
something
for classified information,” Ted objected.  He looked back towards the diplomats – and, standing at the other side of the compartment, the observers.  Several of them were Russians.  “Or don’t they even have a concept of classified data?”

“Unknown,” Polly said.  “But they may not have anything of the sort, Admiral.  They don’t think the way we do.”

Ted frowned.  It was true enough that governments had a habit of trying to classify data that could be embarrassing or cost them the next election, but it was also true that quite a bit of data was classified for extremely good reasons.  The bioweapon formula, he knew, would be buried in the vaults once the war was over, particularly if it was never used.  It would only upset people to learn how close the taboo on engineered bioweapons had come to being broken – and by world governments, at that. 

But the aliens, it seemed, didn’t understand the idea behind classifying or otherwise restricting data.

“I think they’re coming to a break,” Polly observed.  “They’re leaving the compartment.”

Ted nodded.  The human observers were leaving through one set of hatches, the aliens were leaving through the other, which lead to a compartment specifically designed for their comfort.  It had taken a considerable amount of engineering to make it possible, but it had been done.  The aliens hadn't complained once, although they hadn't thanked the humans either.  Ted suspected, from reading Prince Henry’s report, that they didn't have social graces in the same way the humans had them.  Maybe politeness, too, was a foreign concept.

He turned as Ambassador Melbourne strode into the compartment, already removing his sweaty jacket.  Ted concealed his amusement with an effort.  The aliens wouldn't notice if the human negotiators turned up wearing nothing, but their birthday suits.  On the other hand, he did understand their problem.  Recordings of the first talks between humans and aliens were likely to be studied for countless years ... and no one would want to see them stark naked when they reviewed the data.  But they could easily have worn swimsuits.

“Ambassador,” he said.  “I trust that talks were productive?”

“I believe so,” Melbourne said.  He jerked a head towards the hatch leading into a private compartment.  “It took quite some time before we managed to smooth out communications, though.  We haven’t done anything quite like this since Cortes encountered the Aztecs.”

“And this would be worse,” Ted said, as he led the way into the private compartment.  Inside, there was nothing more than a pair of chairs and an empty desk.  “Cortes would have been able to understand the Aztecs being human ...”

“Cortes also had a handful of people who spoke both tongues,” Melbourne interrupted.  He sat down, rubbing his white shirt.  The sweat had stained it badly.  “We have computers that may not be translating properly and some very different ideas about how the universe works.”

He shrugged.  “Every so often, they have to check with their fellows on their ship,” he added, dryly.  “I think we’re actually dealing with three separate alien factions, not one.  Luckily, it allows us a chance to chat with our advisors too.”

“Good,” Ted said, impatiently.  “What have they said to us?”

“First, they'd like to escort us to one of their worlds,” Melbourne said.  “From what we think we’ve drawn from them, this will be a chance to talk to several other factions and hopefully convince them to support peace terms.  There will also be an opportunity to get to know them better, I believe.  Young Henry believes there is little point in hosting a cultural exchange, but I beg to differ.”