Clarke III, Pegasus System
“Here comes the transport, boss,” Lewis said.
“Good,” Drake said. “Percy, you’re with me.”
“Yes, sir,” Percy said. He’d expected to remain at the rear, but he had a feeling he was more expendable than any of the troopers. “I’m with you.”
The transport slowly came into view. Percy had half-expected a normal lorry, but the vehicle cruising slowly towards him looked like a cross between a railway locomotive that had been forced to travel on normal ground and an army transport. It was massive too, easily twice the size of a shuttle. If he hadn't been forced to learn to drive transports when he’d joined the marines, he would have wondered if they were wrong and there was an entire crew on the vehicle, rather than just one driver. But only one person was visible through the viewport at the front.
Which means nothing, he reminded himself. The marines preferred to have at least two people in the cab at all times, although there were sometimes moments when only one person could be spared to drive. There could be someone asleep in the rear.
“Get ready,” Drake ordered. “We’ll only get one chance to scramble onboard.”
“Aye, sir,” Percy said. He watched the transport growing closer, marking out the ladder up to the hatch. “I’m ready.”
“Go,” Drake ordered.
***
Lillian would not willingly have credited the Indians with anything, but she had to concede they were efficient. The more supplies they brought down to the surface, the more work they found for the colony’s original settlers ... which made it harder and harder to avoid outright collaboration. Lillian did as little as she felt she could get away with, but others were less capable of passive resistance. A number of colonists had even thrown their lot in completely with the Indians, as far as she could tell. It helped that the Indians were paying wages well above the average for even the simplest task.
Bastards, she thought, as she drove the all-terrain transport over the icy ground. They could at least refuse to volunteer for anything.
She shook her head in dismay. The Indians were setting up military installations all over the moon, putting her and the other engineers to work shipping supplies from the colony to the satellite outposts. Lillian had welcomed it at first, despite having to sleep in the vehicle’s cab, but now it was just a nuisance. The pleasure of being away from the colony paled when compared to the irritation of having to assist the Indians at the far end. She was tempted to call in sick, but the Indians had made it clear that there were limits to how much passive resistance they would tolerate. By the time the colony was liberated, if indeed it was ever liberated, sorting out who resisted passively from those who collaborated openly would be a nightmare.
A dull thump echoed through the transport. Lillian cursed under her breath and glanced out of the cab, looking to see what - if anything - she’d hit. The transport was rated for environments a great deal harsher than Clarke, but the icy ground was far from stable. She would have preferred to take a different route each time; the Indians, however, preferred her to follow the same path. They didn't seem to realise that there weren't any solid roads on Clarke, merely paths through the ice.
And one of them goes far too close to the ocean, she thought. She had no illusions about what would happen if she accidentally drove onto the ice and fell through. The transport was airtight - it had been designed for operations in a poisonous atmosphere - but recovering her would be incredibly difficult, even if the Indians helped. I could die out here and they'd only moan about losing the supplies.
She tensed suddenly as she heard the sound of a hatch opening. It was impossible; she had to be imagining it. There was no one else on the transport; she’d hoped to share the transport duties with someone else, but there weren't enough qualified drivers on the colony to give her a partner. And yet ... the transport did produce odd sounds from time to time ... could she be imagining it? Or ... she jumped and spun around as she heard the hatch behind her opening, her mouth dropping open in shock as she saw two black-clad men emerging from the sleeping compartment. They couldn't be real ...
“Please don’t sound an alarm,” the leader said. “We’re friendly.”
Lillian found her voice. “Who ... who are you?”
“SAS,” the leader said. “And you?”
“Lillian Turner,” Lillian stammered. SAS? Who else would be picked to sneak onto the colony? And yet she had no way of knowing if they were telling the truth. Their English was perfect, but the Indians spoke perfect English too. It could be a trap to get her to do something stupid. She’d never laid eyed on an SAS officer before. “How ... how did you get onboard?”
“Jumped on while you were driving past, opened the airlock and made our way forward,” the leader said. “We need to talk to you.”
Lillian stared at him, trying to think. Were they genuine? The black suits they wore were completely unmarked, although that proved nothing. She could have worn a soldier’s uniform herself without being a soldier. The accents were understandable and ...
The second trooper removed his helmet. Lillian blinked in surprise as she recognised him, vaguely. He’d been a Royal Marine, one of the complement assigned to Warspite; he’d been her guard during her brief imprisonment on the starship. He didn't seem too pleased to see her - it was hard to blame him, as he’d know how stupid she’d been - but at least it proved their bona fides. She just wished she could remember his name!
“Percy,” the trooper said. “It’s been quite some time.”
“Yeah, yeah it has,” Lillian said. She sagged back into the driver’s seat. “What can I do for you?”
“Start with the obvious,” the leader said. “How long do you have until you need to check in?”
Lillian glanced at her radio. “I’m meant to call in every two hours,” she said, shortly. “And once more before I park up for the night.”
“I see,” the leader said. “And do you believe you’re being watched?”
“I don’t think so,” Lillian said. She hesitated. The Indians could produce bugs so tiny they couldn't be seen with the naked eye. As far as she knew, there hadn't been any counter-surveillance technology on the colony before the invasion. She certainly didn't have access to any of it. “But I don’t know.”
The troopers exchanged glances, then started to sweep the cab with a handful of sensor devices. Lillian watched, feeling her body starting to shake. The Indians might have hidden a few bugs in the cab and, if they had, she was dead. They’d know the SAS had landed and that the Royal Navy wouldn't be far behind. The Royal Marine - Percy, she reminded herself - winked at her. He wasn’t exactly ugly, she decided; indeed, he was remarkably handsome in many ways.
And you’re being an idiot, she told herself. Letting yourself get distracted when you should be driving.
“Clear,” the leader announced, finally. “You’re not being watched.”
“That means you can do what you like in the sleeping compartment,” Percy jibed. He sounded as relieved as Lillian felt. “It’s bigger than our sleeping compartments.”
“No doubt,” Lillian said. The Indians would probably notice if she stopped the transport, but otherwise ... they were safe. “What can I do for you?”
“We need answers,” the leader said. He squatted down, facing her. “Percy, take the wheel.”
“Yes, sir,” Percy said.
“Keep her on a steady course,” Lillian advised, as she surrendered the driver’s seat to him. “There shouldn't be anything to run into here, but keep a sharp eye out anyway.”
The leader removed his helmet and frowned. “Indian patrols?”
“They don’t bother to patrol the landscape away from the colony, as far as we know,” Lillian said. She cursed under her breath as she remembered the most important piece of information. “They’re installing mass drivers, sir.”
“We know,” Percy said, without taking his eyes off the landscape. “How many of them?”
> “They’re setting up at least a dozen outposts,” Lillian supplied. “If each of them houses a mass driver ...”
“They could hit anything within a light minute of Clarke before it knew it was under attack,” the leader said. He didn't sound angry, merely curious. “I have a long string of questions for you.”
He wasn't lying, Lillian discovered. The interrogation was so intensive that her head started to pound halfway through, even though she knew she was innocent this time. How many Indians were on the moon? How many occupied the colony? How many colonists were collaborating and how many were resisting passively? What had the Indians told the colonists and why? What had happened when the Indians invaded? What had happened to the POWs taken during the landing? By the time he was finished, Lillian wanted nothing more than a strong painkiller, a glass of water and a chance to get some sleep.
“I think she’s had enough for the moment, sir,” Percy said, glancing round. “You’re very intense.”
“You didn't collapse under my questions,” the leader observed.
“I knew what I was getting into,” Percy countered. “And I volunteered for the job.”
“Thank you,” Lillian said. If she could have kissed him, she would have. “We’ve been trying to collect information, but the Indians have the datanet and control systems thoroughly sewn up.”
“So you don’t know how many soldiers there are on the planet,” the leader mused. He looked her in the eye. “You have no idea at all?”
Lillian hesitated. “We set up nine prefabricated barracks for them,” she said. She didn't miss the sudden flicker of alarm in the leader’s eyes. “Assuming that those barracks are only used for soldiers, sir, they have at least ten thousand on the moon.”
“Seems a bit of a heavy investment,” Percy said, lightly. “Are they really that determined to hold Clarke?”
“The Governor was fond of saying that the next few decades would bring massive changes,” Lillian said. “Just controlling the tramlines alone would make the system wealthy. Being able to settle Wells and mine space junk would only enhance our position. Those of us who got in at the ground floor, he said, would wind up very wealthy.”
Percy blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Lillian said. She wasn't sure if it applied to her, but it might. “The settlement corporation offered vast incentives to anyone willing to come to Clarke, rather than Britannia or Nova Scotia. Everyone who came to Clarke has non-voting shares in the corporation and is thus guaranteed a share in the profits. The Indians have good reason to want to hang on to the system.”
“I see,” Percy said. He shrugged. “When are you expected at your destination?”
Lillian glanced at the GPS. “Four days,” she said. The only advantage, as far as she could tell, was being away from the Indians for ten days. “These transports aren't very fast.”
She hesitated and started to shake. Were they going to kill her? She had no illusions about how long she’d be able to hold out if the Indians used truth drugs ... or merely pulled out her teeth, one by one, until she talked. The SAS troopers needed to maintain their secrecy, whatever happened, or the Indians would start tracking them down. Their safest course of action was to kill her.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” the leader said, as if he’d read her mind. “We just need you to keep quiet about our presence.”
“I will,” Lillian said, quietly. “I won’t even mention it to anyone else who might be interested in resisting.”
She swallowed hard. It must be a common problem for the troopers. If they were spotted, did they kill the spotter or risk being betrayed? She knew she couldn't stop them, if she’d been armed. If they wanted to break her neck and fake an accident, perhaps by triggering an explosion in the fuel tank, it would be easy.
“Good,” the leader said. “Now ... what are you expected to do at the far end?”
Lillian nodded towards the rear of the giant transport. “Get their boxes unloaded and head back to the colony,” she said. “They don’t normally insist on riding with us, but Pat did have to take a couple of Indian soldiers back with him. I’ve never had to do that, at least not yet. I think they may prefer to use shuttles for themselves.”
The leader frowned. “Or they’re worried about putting their soldiers in with defenceless females,” he mused. Lillian shuddered at the thought. “But you’d think they’d put the best of their men on Clarke.”
“Unless they don’t think the moon can be held,” Percy offered. “If something were to happen to that carrier, sir, the Indians would be in a very bad position.”
“And so they might have rated the soldiers as expendable,” the leader said. “I’ve seen that happen, Percy, but only on Earth. I don’t think anyone would waste the training necessary to prepare men for Clarke so casually.”
Lillian looked from one to the other. “How can you be so calm?”
“Panic wouldn’t actually help,” the leader pointed out. “Do you know what they’re shipping?”
“We’re not allowed to open the boxes,” Lillian said. “They told us that we’d be shot if there were any signs of tampering. It could be anything from mass driver projectiles to ration bars and reading matter.”
“Maybe they should just keep eating our ration bars,” Percy said. “A few weeks of chewing and farting loudly and their men will desert.”
“Indeed,” the leader said. He smiled, suddenly. “Most of our men deserted after eating them.”
Lillian smiled too, even though she knew they were trying to make her feel better. “Are you going to try to open the boxes?”
“I’ll take a look at them,” the leader said. “Percy will stay and keep you company.”
And make sure I don’t call the Indians while you’re gone, Lillian added, mentally.
“It’s been a while,” Percy said, once they were alone. “How were you coping down here?”
“It was better, I think,” Lillian said, slowly. She wasn't sure why she wanted to open up to him. They had been on the same ship, but they’d barely known one another. Hell, he’d practically been her arresting officer. “They were suspicious of me at first, yet I slowly earned their trust.”
“And then the Indians arrived,” Percy said. He seemed inclined to repeat some of his superior’s questions. “How many people are collaborating?”
Lillian sighed. “There are around fourteen people who seem to have gone over completely,” she said, “but there’re over a hundred other colonists who are being pushed into assisting the bastards. People like me, Percy; people who don’t want to find out what happens if we say no. The line between outright collaboration and doing the bare minimum is getting thinner every day.”
“And they have you supplying military installations,” Percy mused. “They’re certainly pushing the limits of the surrender agreement.”
“I know,” Lillian said. “They took the governor after they occupied the colony. I don’t know what happened to him after that. Was he returned to Earth?”
“Not as far as I know,” Percy said. “He may have been moved to the carrier and held there.”
Lillian blinked. “The carrier?”
“The Indians have a supercarrier in the system,” Percy said. “Didn't they tell you?”
The hatch opened, again, before Lillian could answer. “The boxes are completely sealed,” the leader said. “Breaking in would be easy, but sealing them up again to remove all evidence of tampering would be impossible. I think we’ll just have to leave the mystery unsolved for the moment.”
Lillian breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s ... I don’t know what to do.”
“Here,” the leader said. He produced a small pen from his suit and passed it to her. “This emits a very low-level radio signal. To make it work, push the top down hard for thirty seconds; to deactivate the signal, click the top up again. The next time you’re on one of these transports, alone, use the pen to signal us. Do not use it within a kilometre
of the colony or any Indian outpost.”
“James Bond would be proud,” Lillian said. She examined the device thoughtfully. “Can it serve as a real pen?”
“Of course,” the leader said. “Just keep it in your pocket like you would with an engineering pen. Even if the Indians confiscate it, they’d have to take the device apart to prove it wasn't anything other than a normal pen. Just make sure you don’t try to use it anywhere near the Indians. They may detect the signal and track it down.”
“I understand,” Lillian said. She tucked the pen into her shirt and looked at them. “I’m normally out again within the week. Do you have anything in particular you want me to do?”
“Just keep your eyes open,” the leader said. “And ... see if you can work out just how much freedom of movement we’d have if we slipped into the colony. We need that sort of information.”
A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) Page 18