“Thank you, Prime Minister,” Sandra said. She’d be one of the Prime Minister’s personal intelligence officers, James decided. “The situation is as follows.
“The Indians have definitely occupied both Vesy and Pegasus - specifically, Clarke III,” she said. “We believe they have occupied Cromwell too, but the only evidence we have for that is a flash message relayed down the chain of communications beacons before the Indians took the beacons offline. In any case, our tactical staff believes that the Indians would have good reason to occupy Cromwell. They would find it easier to block our advance through that system.
“Despite their advance, losses have been minimal. There was a brief exchange of fire at Clarke III before the destroyers retreated; the Indians did not pursue. They have returned almost all of the prisoners they took on Vesy, who testify to their good treatment. In some cases, the Indians even ransomed the prisoners from the aliens who took them captive. The only exceptions, as far as we can determine, are a handful of men who are critically wounded and are currently undergoing treatment.”
“How nice of the Indians,” Uncle Winchester muttered.
Sandra ignored him. “The Indians have been reported in Boston, but so far they have not made any hostile moves against the planet. We believe the Indians have no intention of trying to occupy the system as that will add the Americans to their list of enemies. However ...”
The Prime Minister held up a hand. “That will do, for the moment,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I received the ultimatum from the Indians personally.”
James sucked in his breath. It was rare, very rare, for Heads of Government to handle diplomatic discussions personally. There was just too great a risk of a personality clash that would lead to diplomatic rows, or even all-out war. It was generally better to allow the diplomatic offices to handle such matters at first, knowing that they could be disowned if necessary. A diplomat could be declared persona non grata and sent home. It was a great deal harder to ignore a Head of Government.
“It's a strange piece of work,” the Prime Minister continued. “For an ultimatum, it has some oddly conciliatory phrases.”
“The Indians may themselves be divided,” Neville Murchison said. The Foreign Secretary leaned forward. “They may not be as determined on war as it seems.”
“Or that’s what they want you to think,” Uncle Winchester growled. Murchison and he were old sparring partners. “What do they actually want?”
The Prime Minister frowned. “They want recognition as a Great Power,” he said, flatly. “Their control over both Vesy and Pegasus is to be recognised; they are to be effectively granted possession of those systems and the sectors beyond. In short, it is a land grab on an interstellar scale.”
He shrugged. “If we accept those terms without further debate, the Indians will graciously allow us access to Vesy and the tramlines,” he added. “But we will no longer control any of the systems ourselves.”
“So the Indians expect us to just roll over and surrender those systems,” the First Space Lord said. “We can't let this pass.”
“No, we can’t,” Uncle Winchester agreed. “We do have allies.”
“We don’t,” Murchison said, flatly. “The Great Power system is dead, Henry. It was killed by the war. Right now, the Americans are having their election; they won’t risk getting involved unless the Indians do something they can't ignore. The French have their own internal problems; they’re unlikely to get involved unless we make concessions to them instead. I rather doubt the Chinese will go to bat for us and the Russians ... well, we believe the Indians have been making inroads with the Russians.”
James winced. The Russians, during the height of the war, had attempted to deploy biological weapons against the Tadpoles, effectively committing genocide. Their commandoes had tried to take control of Ark Royal and launch the weapons, injuring James badly in the process. He cursed inwardly at the thought. If he hadn't been wounded, he would have been on the Old Lady when she made her final flight. It would have been better, perhaps, than surviving.
And Admiral Smith would have told you that you were being an idiot, he reminded himself sharply. You have far too much to live for.
“So we’re alone,” Uncle Winchester said. “We still have a considerable firepower advantage, don’t we? Six fleet carriers to three?”
“Three of our carriers are deployed to the border,” the First Space Lord said. “Concentrating an overwhelming force will take time.”
“We can still take the offensive,” Uncle Winchester said.
The Prime Minister tapped the table, sharply. “The question before us is simple,” he said. “We have a choice between either conceding that the Indians have successfully captured some of our territory or going to war. Which choice do we make?”
Murchison cleared his throat. “Prime Minister,” he said. “I understand the primal urge to just hit back at our enemies. There is no excuse for invading and occupying our territory, territory claimed by us in line with the various interstellar treaties; the Indians have committed acts of aggression and must be made to pay a price.
“But ... we are not in a good position ourselves. The Royal Navy was gravely weakened by the war and there are endless demands on our resources. We could take the offensive against the Indians and beat them, only to discover that we’ve killed ourselves too. A long war might not only bring in other human powers, Prime Minister; it might weaken us to the point the Tadpoles see a chance to resume the war on their terms. They have to regard us as a dangerous enemy.
“We have denied the Indians recognition as a Great Power in the past, even though they probably deserved the title. Conceding that now will do us no harm; it may even serve as a bridge to opening other discussions. We gain little from Vesy; the system isn't worth fighting to keep. Let the Indians have it, if they wish. The only sticking points are Pegasus and Clarke and I believe the Indians can be talked into withdrawing from both systems. It would be a clear breach of the international order to keep them.”
James had his doubts. Yes, there was little to gain by keeping Vesy; the natives were primitive, barely crawling out of the Stone Age. But otherwise ... rewarding the Indians for acts of aggression stuck in his craw. Maybe they could be talked into withdrawing from Cromwell and Pegasus ...
Uncle Winchester cleared his throat. “It has always astonished me just how often the diplomats want to talk, talk, talk,” he said. “In this case, there is nothing to talk about.”
“Jaw-jaw is better than war-war,” Murchison quoted.
“I doubt Churchill would agree with you,” Uncle Winchester said. “There is literally nothing to talk about.”
He held up a hand before Murchison could say a word. “There may - may - be some truth in the suggestion we unfairly denied the Indians recognition as a Great Power,” he continued, his voice growing harder. “It wasn't our call. The Russians and Chinese were against it; the Americans and French didn't care enough to argue their case. Perhaps we did treat them badly. But ... it doesn't serve as an excuse to kill our personnel, occupy our territory and demand - in the cheekiest of tones - that we kindly accept the status quo.
“Did we learn nothing from the Age of Unrest? Giving in to blackmail only leads to more demands! How many concessions were made to tin-pot dictators and religious fanatics during the Crazy Years that came back to haunt us when the entire global system hiccupped? How many of our people died because we tried to make nice with our irredeemable foes, instead of squashing them like bugs while we had the chance?
“So we surrender to the Indians? Let them get away with it? Maybe, if we grovel sufficiently, they will kindly allow us to reclaim Pegasus. And then what? What happens the next time someone decides they can take a bite out of our territory, in the certain knowledge we’ll just let it go? We cannot allow the Indians to humiliate us! It will spell the end of Britain as a Great Power.
“The only acceptable outcome, the only one that maintains our current position, is
recovering the territory the Indians occupied by force! And we must do it alone. There is literally no other alternative. The Indians cannot be allowed to get away with this.”
He turned to face the Prime Minister. “I strongly suggest that we declare war on the Indians and do whatever it takes to recover our territory.”
“India is not a rogue state,” Murchison said, quietly. “We cannot send in the troops to give her a damn good thrashing. They may thrash us back.”
“That’s what they thought during the Crazy Years,” Uncle Winchester said. “They were so scared of getting hurt, even if they could inflict far more harm on their foes, that they allowed threats to grow until they nearly proved lethal. The death of a single soldier was seen as grounds to surrender and walk away. And look how badly it cost them! The Troubles might have been averted if someone had stood up and said enough.”
“India is not a rogue state,” Murchison repeated. “And if we concentrate the level of force we would need to deal with her, we would leave the border gravely weakened.”
“We may be able to convince the Americans or the French to move additional forces of their own to the border,” the First Space Lord said, quietly. “They might not be willing to take overt steps to support us, but they’d understand what’s at stake.”
“The longer the Indians remain in possession of our territories, the harder it will be to dislodge them,” the Prime Minister said.
“Then we seize their territories,” Uncle Winchester said. “They have two Earth-type worlds we could capture.”
“Neither of them is a worthwhile target,” the First Space Lord said. “The bulk of the Indian shipbuilding industry is in the Sol System. Off-limits.”
“This is war,” Uncle Winchester said.
“The logic behind the Solar Treaty remains in place,” the Prime Minister said. “We cannot afford to break it. Everyone would turn on us.”
James nodded. Acts of aggression were banned within the Sol System, if only to preserve humanity’s infrastructure and prevent collateral damage. It was one of the few treaties that every interstellar power honoured.
Or every human power, he thought, wryly. The Tadpoles didn't sign the treaty before they attacked Earth.
“Parliament will have to make the final call,” the Prime Minister said, “but I will need to advise them. If we go to war, and Parliament may well vote for war, can we win?”
“Numerically, we have the advantage,” Uncle Winchester said.
“They may have advantages of their own,” Murchison insisted. “Most of their ships are post-war designs.”
James felt his eyes narrow. Someone had been briefing Murchison ...
“We have modern ships too,” Uncle Winchester said. “The fact remains that we cannot let the Indians get away with this. If we fail to defend our interests now, when we have advantages, when will we start to stand up for ourselves?”
“And if we win, we win at a terrifying cost,” Murchison snapped. “We could lose everything in the crossfire.”
The Prime Minister looked at the First Space Lord. “Admiral Finnegan?”
“We have been looking at our options,” the First Space Lord said. “Admiral Fitzwilliam’s team has devised a number of potential operational concepts. With your permission, sir, he will brief you on them.”
“Granted,” the Prime Minister said.
James opened his briefcase, removed a datachip and plugged it into the processor slot beside his seat. The holographic starchart vanished. James took the control and opened the files, displaying another starchart. This one showed potential angles of approach to Pegasus, Vesy and Cromwell.
He took a breath and began.
Chapter Three
10 Downing Street, London, Earth
“Time is not on our side, Prime Minister,” James began, “but it may not be on their side either. We have to act fast before they can fortify their possessions; they have to secure recognition of their possession before the other interstellar powers bring pressure to bear on them. Accordingly, we have good reason to seek a quick decision and so do they.”
He paused for effect before proceeding. “We believe, given the tramlines, that they will have placed the main body of their fleet in Vesy,” he continued. “That would allow them to determine our approach vector and concentrate their fleet against us. They would have pickets emplaced to watch for us, as well as human intelligence sources. They’d have time to redeploy before we arrived in the war zone. It is unlikely we could avoid a duel with their fleet.
“We have several possible choices. Variant One - Bulldog One - is to occupy their worlds and trade them for ours, although this would force us to deploy ground units to keep the local population under control. This might allow us to avoid a major fleet clash, but I regard that as unlikely. We believe the Indians will attempt to harass our forces on the ground while picking the time and place of a naval engagement. Besides, in the long term, we would have to make some hard choices concerning the local populations.”
He saw the Prime Minister frown and nodded in agreement. Terra Nova had been settled by hundreds of ethnic and religious groups, back when no one had known just how many worlds there were for the taking, and it had been a complete disaster. If Britain kept the Indian worlds, they would either have to remove the settlers or accept a permanent ethnic mishmash, which would probably lead to war. And one round of the Troubles had been quite bad enough.
“Bulldog Two calls for us to proceed up the tramlines to Vesy,” he said. “That would probably allow us to dictate the time and place of the battle, as we would be neatly positioned to block any enemy passage between Pegasus, Cromwell and Gandhi. However, the Indians would have plenty of time to prepare to meet us. We would also face the problem of fighting for a system we don’t particularly want.”
He tapped a switch, altering the starchart. “The third and final choice - Bulldog Three - is to proceed directly to Pegasus and force a battle there. That has a number of advantages; we’d be fighting for territory that is unquestionably ours, we’d be able to insert Special Forces onto the ground and our supply lines would be short. Well, shorter. Our logistics aren't going to be very good at the best of times. The Indians would also have the option of choosing to withdraw, if they didn't want to force a battle themselves. If they did, we would allow them to leave.”
Murchison frowned. “Do you think they’ll withdraw?”
“There’s no way to know,” James said. Diplomacy was outside his sphere of interest. “They may be running a giant bluff, in which case they’ll back down when it’s called, or they may be serious about keeping what they’ve taken. In that case, they will certainly have to fight at Pegasus. They won’t have a choice.”
“I see,” the Prime Minister said. “Which option do you believe we should take?”
“I would prefer to choose either Bulldog Two or Bulldog Three,” James said. “In an ideal world, we would proceed up the tramlines to Hannibal” - he tapped a star on the chart - “while deploying fast frigates or cruisers to spy out the terrain. At that point, the task force would either head to Vesy or Pegasus, depending on the Indian deployments. Bulldog One offers the least risk, but also the least potential gains. The Indian industries are effectively off-limits.
“Task Force Bulldog would be built around the Theodore Smith” - he couldn't help a twinge of pain at the ship’s name - “and a hard core of escort carriers, destroyers and frigates. It would proceed to Hannibal, then advance onwards; ideally, we would attempt to tackle the Indian carriers separately. Both of their carriers are modern ships, after all; I’d prefer not to risk one of the pre-war carriers against them. The objective would be to secure Pegasus, land troops, recover the colony and then proceed to either Cromwell or Vesy. Once Cromwell was recovered, we could seek peace terms from a position of supremacy.”
“We would have nothing to gain from kicking the Indians while they were down,” Murchison commented.
“Except for the certainty
they wouldn’t be able to threaten us again,” Uncle Winchester snapped. “We made damn sure that Iran couldn't do more than bluster during the Age of Unrest.”
“The Indians could lose their colonies,” the Prime Minister said, “but they couldn’t lose their industries in the Sol System. Not unless we were prepared to throw the Solar Treaty out of the window. I think we must accept from the beginning that any victory we win will be limited in scope.”
“And we may need their firepower if we end up fighting another war with the Tadpoles,” the First Space Lord added.
And if we take the gloves off here, they’ll do the same, James thought, privately.
The Prime Minister nodded, once. “How long will it take to gather the ships and assemble the task force?”
“We’ve already ordered the ships to prepare for redeployment,” James said. “I believe it won’t take longer than a month to ready the entire task force - maybe less, if we aim to deploy to Hannibal within the fortnight. The real problem will be logistics. I’d prefer to have our fleet train deployed with the task force, rather than risk having the freighters move in small convoys. The Indians will understand our weaknesses, Prime Minister, and will try to target the convoys where possible.”
A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) Page 3