And won’t Percy be surprised to see me, she thought, as she stepped through the hatch. His little sister all grown up.
The thought made her smile. Percy had been annoying, in the way of older brothers to younger sisters since time immemorial, right up until the moment their lives had been turned upside down by tidal waves. Their mother had been lost, somewhere in the chaos - it hadn't been until much later that Penny had realised that their so-perfect mother had been having an affair - while they’d had to struggle to survive. And Percy, annoying Percy, had become terribly over-protective. Not that Penny really blamed him, not after their parents had died; they’d only ever had each other. But it had grown more and more wearying as she’d grown older and finally found a place for herself.
“Miss Schneider,” the Captain said, breaking into her thoughts. “I believe you requested an interview?”
“Yes, thank you,” Penny said.
She stepped forward, the hatch closing behind her, and looked around the Captain’s cabin. It was larger than the compartment she was sharing with a midshipwoman, but not by much. The bulkheads were bare, save for one that was covered in medals, commissioning papers and a large photograph of Captain Naiser with another man. He’d been quite handsome as a young man, Penny decided, before the war had overwhelmed him. Now, there was something in his blue eyes that suggested he wasn't quite the same.
“Please, take a seat,” the Captain said. “I do hope you recall the rules concerning media interviews?”
“Of course,” Penny said, nettled. She’d paid close attention to the briefings, after all; the briefing officers had been trying to tell her how to stay alive in space. “The recordings will be run past the censors first, before being released on Earth, even though we’re not at war.”
“Good,” the Captain said. He sat on a comfortable armchair, watching her through cold blue eyes as she set up her recorder. “You never know what will prove important to enemy intelligence agents until it does.”
Penny scowled. “Off the record,” she said, “why is it that everyone treats reporters as enemy spies?”
The Captain snorted. “Off the record? Reporters, as a general rule, are more concerned with snatching the latest scoop than thinking about the consequences of releasing their scoop. It doesn't take much imagination to realise that they might tell the enemy something useful, then hide behind claims of freedom of the press.”
“I wouldn't do that,” Penny insisted. “My brother is at risk! And my adopted father.”
“Reporters are often incapable of judging what is and what isn't sensitive material,” the Captain pointed out. “I could tell you a hundred facts about Warspite, but would you be able to tell which of them are classified?”
Penny scowled, again. “Point taken.”
She finished setting up her recorder, then tapped a switch. “Preliminary background interview with Captain John Naiser, 23rd March 2207 at 1745,” she said, for the record. It was a habit she’d never managed to lose, even though the recorder would attach date and time metadata to the recording. “Subject: alien contact.”
The recorder clicked once, in acknowledgement. It was larger than it needed to be, she knew, but reporters had discovered over the years that using a device that was clearly visible tended to work better than something so microscopic that it couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. Besides, there had been quite a few lawsuits when people had been recorded without their permission, some of which had resulted in massive payouts.
“Captain,” she said. “How much can you tell me about your early life?”
“Nothing that hasn’t already been said a thousand times,” the Captain said. “My life was thoroughly dissected on the datanet after we returned from Vesy.”
Penny groaned, inwardly. She should have expected that reaction. It was hard, very hard, to move through modern life without leaving an electronic trail, although the bombardment had erased quite a few records from existence. The Captain might not have been Prince Henry or Princess Janelle, but it wouldn't have been hard for the reporters to uncover his early life and expose it to the world. It helped that he’d been one of the heroes of the war who hadn't gone down with Ark Royal.
She gave him a pleading smile. “You can't tell me something no one else knows?”
“I don’t think so,” the Captain said. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. “I was a perfectly ordinary child, then a perfectly ordinary starfighter pilot, then a war hero ...”
Penny seized on that, quickly. “Do you feel you deserved to be feted?”
“I wasn't the only hero of the war,” the Captain said. “I did my duty and that was all there was to it.”
“I understand,” Penny said. Her father - both of her fathers - had rarely talked about their service, but she knew they’d both had nightmares. “What do you believe we should do about the Vesy?”
The Captain didn't seem thrown by the sudden change in subject. “My personal opinion is that we should quarantine their world and leave them to develop on their own,” he said, flatly. “Nothing good can come of us meddling in their affairs. Let them develop on their own until they build starships, then they can meet us on even terms.”
“But by then our starships will be even more advanced,” Penny pointed out. “I’m sure Warspite could smash the first starships to jump through the tramlines with ease.”
“Yes, she could,” the Captain agreed. “But the crews of those ships knew much - much - more about the universe than the Vesy. The difference between their vessels and Warspite isn't really that great, nor is anything we have truly beyond their comprehension. For the Vesy, the gulf between us and them is so great as to be unimaginable. It will take them centuries to develop all the theories we have discovered and then progress past them to join us on an equal level.”
“They need to make the theories to make the theories,” Penny said. She paused. “If that makes any kind of sense.”
“It does,” the Captain assured her.
Penny considered it, slowly. The Captain seemed content to wait for the next question, rather than volunteer information or ask her to hurry up. In truth, she wasn't sure what to say, let alone ask. The Captain wouldn't be impressed if she asked for more information that was already in the public domain. A more experienced reporter, she was sure, would have found better questions to ask.
“My brother is still on Vesy,” she said, slowly. “Did you intend to leave him there for so long?”
The Captain looked irked. “No,” he said. “I had hoped a ship would be dispatched earlier, perhaps before other nations launched their own ships. Six months on an alien world would be pushing their endurance to the limit.”
Penny blinked in alarm. She might have found Percy irritating, at times, but she didn’t want him dead. The thought of something killing her brother was unthinkable ... and he might be dead now, only they would never know. How could they know when no ship had visited Vesy since Warspite had left?
“I’m sure he’s fine,” the Captain said, reading her expression. “The Royal Marines are tough.”
“I couldn't help noticing that 3 Para has been dispatched to Vesy,” Penny said, fighting to keep her voice under control. “Do you expect trouble?”
“It is normally a good idea to prepare for trouble, even if you don’t expect it,” the Captain said, flatly. “Having forces on the ground might be necessary if something goes badly wrong.”
Penny frowned. “The Vesy might rise up against us?”
“Or someone might provoke them into attacking a smaller human group,” the Captain countered. “I really don’t like the idea of missionaries going out among the Vesy. They are unlikely to be welcomed, particularly when they’re not offering anything beyond the word of god.”
“I see,” Penny said. She took a breath. “When we get there, Captain, what do you intend to do?”
“It depends on what we find when we get there,” the Captain said. “If we’re the first to arrive, we will set up on
the surface and make contact with the Vesy factions; if we’re not, we will proceed as we think best. A great deal depends on just how the other nations react to the Vesy.”
Penny let out a breath, then made a show of clicking the recorder off. “And myself?”
The Captain shrugged. “I believe you are, technically, embedded with the ambassador, rather than my ship,” he said. “If you want to go down to the surface, you may go with her - or, if you wish, go on tour if the Vesy are willing to show you around.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Penny said. She clicked the recorder back on. “Now, do you feel that Warspite represents a whole new model of warfare ...?”
***
“We have four days until we reach Vesy,” Colonel John Mortimer said, once the ambassadorial staff had gathered in the compartment. “It is as good a time as any to go over the mission-specific protective details, all the more so as we lack a Foreign Office close-protection detail. They have chosen to pass those responsibilities to the Paras.”
Joelle frowned, inwardly. It hadn’t been her choice, and she’d argued against it, but the Foreign Office had been insistent. The dedicated close-protection teams, who had watched over British diplomats for years, were to be replaced with heavily-armed Paras from the Parachute Regiment. Perhaps it was a good idea - she’d seen the videos of the final battle on Vesy - but the Paras weren't trained in keeping a low profile. Their mere presence could be considered provocative.
“You may not approve of that decision,” Mortimer continued, as if he’d read her thoughts. “I advise you, however, to accept it. The Paras are highly-trained soldiers who may be precisely what you need to get out of trouble, should you get into it. However, the person who is principally responsible for taking care of yourself is yourself.”
He leaned forward, cutting off any debate. “You will each be given a tracking implant before you leave the ship,” he said. “We should be able to find you wherever you are, as there will be nothing on the planet capable of blocking the signal; however, I strongly advise you never to leave Fort Knight without informing us and taking a security detail. Do not leave the base without permission, no matter what you’re told. Troops have been lured away before and they have not always returned alive.”
Joelle winced. She’d been involved with negotiations after a pair of soldiers had been lured away from a garrison in North Africa. It had ended very badly, with one of the soldiers dead and the other mutilated so badly that it had taken months to put him back together. The insurgents had paid - their base camps had been flattened from orbit, along with a pair of local villages that had supported them - but it should never have been necessary. They’d been very careless to leave the base and walk straight into a trap.
At least the Vesy won’t be showing hot girls to horny and isolated men, she thought, wryly. It was very hard to tell the difference between male and female Vesy - and no one, at least no one human, would find either sex attractive. But they could probably come up with a very attractive bribe, if they wished.
“Those of you who are cleared to carry weapons may do so, at will,” Mortimer added. “Bear in mind that all such weapons and ammunition have to be accounted for, at all times. The Vesy, if they feel like stealing from us, will consider such weapons to be prime targets; don’t let go of them and, if you do lose one, report it at once. You will be in shit, but trust me; you will be in deeper shit if one of those weapons winds up being used against us, catching us unaware. If you’re not cleared to use a weapon, you may borrow the shooting range 3 Para intends to set up and take a brief proficiency course.”
He held up his hand. “Yes, you’re diplomats, and you try to settle things through talking rather than shooting,” he warned. “But you may need to shoot your way out of trouble if all hell breaks loose.”
Joelle nodded when several heads turned to look at her. She’d never been caught in a trap, but she had been shot at twice, an experience she would have gladly foregone. It had been years since she’d carried a pistol outside the Foreign Office’s shooting range, but she made a mental note to draw one for herself and practice when she had a moment. The Vesy had no reason to comprehend just how much firepower could and would be brought to bear against anyone who threatened a British Ambassador. It had been a long time since any state had just swallowed an offense to the flag.
She looked back at Mortimer, who had moved on to a different subject.
“They may attempt to open private negotiations with you,” Mortimer said. “Either to purchase technology or weapons off you, or to try to learn more about our negotiating stance and society. Report all such contacts to Ambassador Richardson at once. Do not take any payment from them without permission, as they may intend to blackmail you later; it’s happened before, on Earth, and it may happen here. There is no shortage of horror stories in the files if you care to look at them.
“In addition, do not tell them anything about our society, no matter how harmless you feel it may be. There is no way to know what they may be able to use against us.”
Grace put up her hand. “Isn't that rude?”
Mortimer gave her a sharp look. “Explain.”
“They may try to talk about comparing our lives,” Grace said. “It would be rude for us not to talk about life on Earth.”
“But you won’t, because you might tell them something important without realising it,” Mortimer told her, flatly. “We will be telling them more about ourselves, but not in a piecemeal fashion.”
“But how could it be used against us?” Grace asked. “They can’t get to Earth!”
Joelle spoke before Mortimer could formulate a response. “You might accidentally tell them that we have a rivalry with the other Great Powers,” she said. “Or tell them something that allows them to think we have a rivalry. They would then try to play us off against the other Great Powers, which would allow them to get better terms.”
“Or you could tell them about the war,” Mortimer said. “They might start thinking they could talk to the Tadpoles instead.”
He cleared his throat. “Take recorders with you whenever you leave the fort, but do not mention them to our hosts,” he added. “All recordings are to be handed over to the researchers at Fort Knight for long-term study. Do not turn off the recorders, even when you go to the toilet. I assure you that the researchers have better things to do than watch you shit.”
Joelle smiled at her staff’s horrified reactions. “If worst comes to worst,” she said, “you can just hold it in until you get home.”
“Indeed,” Mortimer agreed. “Your piss might be a state secret.”
He chuckled, then resumed his lecture. Joelle settled back and forced herself to relax, despite the growing excitement in her chest. Four days ... and then she would set foot on an alien world, speak to alien minds ...
One hell of a challenge, she thought. And I’d better be ready.
Chapter Eleven
General Anjeet Patel watched, feeling a surge of sudden anticipation, as the shuttle flew over the Vesy city, then proceeded towards the LZ they’d identified in the fields, a mile from the alien settlement. He had to admit the city was a remarkable sight, given the technological limitations the builders faced; towering stone buildings, some covered in patches of green grass-like plants, surrounded by a wall that would be practically invulnerable, faced with Stone Age weapons technology. India had plenty of old buildings of its own, but there was something about the vibrant realness of the alien city that called to him and repelled him in the same breath. Perhaps it was the sense that it was subtly wrong, somehow, or perhaps it was the awareness that the minds that had designed the city were very far from human.
“Take us down,” he ordered, as they hovered over the designated LZ. “And deploy the troops as soon as we land.”
The shuttle touched down with nary a bump; the hatches opened a moment later, disgorging a dozen heavily-armed soldiers who fanned out around the shuttle, watching for potential threats. Anjeet rose to his
feet and strode out of the hatch himself, taking a deep breath as he stepped onto alien soil. The air was hot and wet, smelling of something he couldn't even begin to identify, something very definitely alien. He took another breath, willing himself to suppress his reaction, then forced himself to relax. It wouldn't be long before diplomacy began.
They won’t have any difficulty seeing where we landed, he thought. He hadn't trusted the Russian files completely - and the British base was sitting far too close to where the Russians had lived and worked - but it hardly mattered. The local aliens could hardly avoid coming to see what the humans were doing, ensuring he had a chance to make contact with a whole new alien faction. All we have to do is wait.
A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) Page 11