He shrugged, again. That too was no longer his decision.
Chapter Twenty
“So tell me,” Anjeet said. “What do you make of the rumours?”
Nikolai Petrovich Zaprudnyi looked thoughtful. He’d changed, in the two months since the Indians had picked him up, after the medics had taken a long look at him and insisted that he eat a proper diet laced with nutritional supplements. Anjeet rather approved of the Russian’s willingness to do whatever it took to get a new identity and enough money to live the rest of his life somewhere comfortable. It ensured he would remain loyal as long as necessary.
“They seem to be taking them seriously,” Zaprudnyi said, carefully. “But it may be a long time before trouble bubbles into the open.”
Anjeet smiled. Stories grew in the telling - particularly when they were repeated with someone with an axe to grind. It hadn't been too hard to suggest that India, which was a majority-Hindu country, was more inclined to be friendly to Vesy religions than anyone else; indeed, a couple of the priests he’d brought with him had found common ground with their Vesy counterparts. Monotheism, in all its manifestations, was strikingly different to anything the Vesy had developed for themselves. And suggesting that the missionaries who’d come to tend to the Vesy would soon move on to compulsion hadn't been difficult at all.
The Vesy themselves, as far as he had been able to tell, had no real hesitation over adopting gods from different cities. It was generally acknowledged, among them, that all gods were real, even if they were not worshipped. A Christian, a Muslim or a Jew would hesitate to pray in another’s style, even when visiting a city run by a different faith, but the Vesy would see nothing wrong with praying to a different god in a different place. It was just polite to pay homage to the gods of other cities. But the Russian-backed God-King had upset the rules and now the Vesy were worried.
“Oh, I doubt that,” he said, mischievously. “The priests won’t like the idea of alien religions spreading through their lands.”
It was a galling thought, but he had to admit that the first Muslim missionaries to enter India had had an unfair advantage. The caste system had been stronger in those days, much stronger, and it had offered little to those born at the bottom. Islam, on the other hand, had proclaimed itself a religion of equality, at least to those who submitted to Allah. It was no wonder, he had forced himself to consider, that Islam had spread so rapidly into India. The Vesy faced much the same problem, with the added disadvantage that the missionaries were backed by stunningly powerful force. It hadn't been hard to suggest that, sooner or later, the monotheists would attempt to force their religion on the Vesy by force.
“They’re not stupid,” Zaprudnyi disagreed. “They wouldn’t challenge vastly superior force.”
Anjeet shrugged. The Vesy had real problems comprehending the power at human fingertips ... which wasn’t too surprising, as they’d only recently discovered that their world was a sphere orbiting a star. But if they should happen to come to believe that they had a choice between fighting or accepting terminal decline, they might well decide to fight. Who knew? Their gods might help them to win? And they might even have Indian allies ...
He smiled at the thought. Agreeing to ban NGOs from bringing in weapons had been the sole accomplishment of the ambassadors on Vesy. Thanks to the constant arrival of newcomers and skilled delaying tactics, nothing else had been agreed. There was no universally accepted commanding officer, no one in command of the various troops on the surface; if all hell broke loose, everyone would be fighting on their own, rather than as a coordinated force. Anjeet wasn't worried about the dangers - he had five thousand soldiers defending his growing base - but he knew some of the other powers were. They were terrifyingly exposed on the surface, against hordes of potential enemies.
And when they get into real trouble, he thought silently, we will be there to help them. For a price.
“We will see,” he said, out loud. “Tell me; how are they coping with their new weapons?”
“Very well, once they get the idea,” Zaprudnyi said. “There were some ... incidents ... when they didn't understand what they were being given, but we smoothed them out piece by piece and continued training. They didn't seem to care about the deaths. Right now, they’re evolving tactics of their own to make use of their new weapons.”
Anjeet nodded. The Vesy hadn’t had any real concept of firearms until the Russians had arrived, but they were learning. “And are they likely to be a danger to us?”
“The training officers have carefully not mentioned anything that might pose a real threat,” Zaprudnyi assured him. “The heaviest thing they possess is a mortar; they have no antitank weapons, no antiaircraft weapons, no plasma cannons. They shouldn't be able to threaten this base or Fort Knight, now the British are there in force.”
“Unfortunate, that,” Anjeet said. If something were to happen to Fort Knight, it would knock the other powers back a pace or two. They’d waste a lot of time making sure it couldn't happen again. “But they can hurt smaller detachments?”
“As long as they’re prepared to soak up casualties,” Zaprudnyi said.
Anjeet nodded. The British - and everyone else - didn't realise it, but they were sitting on a powder keg. Allowing the missionaries to land on Vesy had been a mistake, one that would send tremors through the alien society. And it hadn't been the only one. The aliens were starting to wonder if the NGOs really took them seriously, simply because they hadn't provided weapons and the aliens needed weapons. It had been simple enough to use that as a selling point, when it came to expanding Indian influence.
Idealism, he thought, with a flicker of contempt. What can it do?
“We continue, then,” he said, shortly.
He looked up at the map; nine city-states had joined the Indian-backed alliance, while two more were wavering. Given time, they should have control - directly or indirectly - over a large area, locking out influence from other human powers. The fact that the concept had largely been borrowed from the British Raj in India would amuse no one, he rather suspected, apart from himself. It wasn’t likely the British would appreciate the irony.
Control is simple enough, he thought. They’d distributed weapons like seeds on the land, giving them to any alien faction who showed even the faintest sign of willingness to join the alliance. Let them become dependent on us - and then make sure they pay for what they need.
***
“Things seem to have settled down a bit,” Joelle said, as she poured tea. “Or isn't that your impression?”
John took a moment to consider his answer. He hadn't wanted to visit the planet, but Joelle had invited him and he knew he couldn't have reasonably declined the request. His instincts told him, though, that taking too much time off his command deck could be disastrous. The Vesy might be primitive, but that didn't keep them from posing a danger to the human visitors. And besides, new ships were arriving all the time.
“For the moment, things seem to be under control,” he said, carefully.
He took his mug of tea, emblazoned with the logo of the Royal Engineers, then glanced around the office. It had been improved considerably, with new air conditioning and secure data terminals, but it might just create a misleading impression. There was no point in putting a new coat of paint over a damaged bulkhead.
“A very diplomatic answer,” Joelle said. She sat down facing him, holding her mug of tea in one hand. “Have you ever considered a career in the Foreign Office?”
“God forbid,” John said, before he realised he was being teased. “We’d probably wind up at war with the entire world at the end of my first day in office.”
“It isn't normally that bad,” Joelle assured him. “You normally just end up a lame duck ambassador if you don’t get told to take yourself and your aides out of the country by the end of the day.”
John lifted his eyebrows. “A lame duck ambassador?”
“No one pays any attention to you,” Joelle said. “It happens,
quite a bit; someone will always try to contact the PM if they think you’re not being generous enough. The PM will then take it out on you, for allowing some foreign leader to get the impression that you don’t actually speak for the country. He will not be pleased.”
“I see,” John said. He sipped his tea, thoughtfully. “This is good tea.”
“First thing you learn in the Foreign Office,” Joelle said. “How to make tea. They call it a secret test of character.”
“How to make tea,” John repeated.
“Oh, yes,” Joelle said. “As you progress up the ladder, you will get people asking you for a little more than a cup of tea. Learning how to give them what they want without showing any irritation at the request - or how to turn it down - is an essential lesson to learn. That, or my mentor couldn't be bothered hiring a proper steward and gave me the job.”
“Sounds reasonable,” John said. He cleared his throat. “For the moment, Ambassador, we seem to have the situation under control. All NGOs, whatever their ... cause, are being landed at Fort Knight and briefed before being allowed to go out under supervision. There are so many of them that Colonel Boone doesn't have the troops to escort them all. The national detachments have started to set up their own bases, but for the moment Fort Knight remains the centre of activity, save for the Indian base.”
He frowned. “I’m afraid the reports from there aren’t good.”
“Ambassador Begum keeps stalling me,” Joelle said. She sniffed, disdainfully. “As if I would be taken in by such tactics.”
“I imagine she doesn't want any further agreements,” John said. “We have proof, if you want it, that the Indians are doing a great deal more than merely supplying weapons. They’re supplying training as well. It will make any city that allies with them more deadly in future.
“Worse” - he leaned forward before she could say a word - “they’re setting up factories as well. We don’t know for sure what they’re designed to produce, but my intelligence staff believe they’re intended to produce ammunition.”
Joelle’s eyes narrowed. “Ammunition?”
John nodded. “You can't fire a weapon without ammunition,” he said. “I suspect the Indians have been practically giving away weapons to the Vesy, then driving a hard bargain over each ammunition clip. The Vesy can’t produce ammunition for themselves, so they really have no choice but to do whatever the Indians want. If the Indians cut them off ...”
“They’d be wiped out as soon as they ran out of ammunition,” Joelle said, darkly.
“The God-King’s followers were slaughtered,” John agreed. “Or held for sacrifice.”
“Yeah,” Joelle said. “That was something of a problem.”
John nodded, ruefully. One month since the sacrifice had been long enough for the media reports to be sent to Earth and a reply to get back. It hadn't gone down well, with questions being asked in the Houses of Parliament about just why Britain was sending any aid at all to the Vesy. The NGOs hadn't helped; the farm equipment they’d shipped to Vesy could have been used on Earth, or so various politicians were insisting. It hadn't made anyone look good.
“So far, we haven’t received any orders to keep the Vesy from killing their own people,” Joelle added. “But that might change.”
“I hope not,” John said. “How would we even begin?”
He looked down at the mug of tea, cursing the politicians and reporters under his breath. It was generally agreed, on Earth, that a nation could do whatever it liked within its borders, as long as it didn't threaten foreign nationals or the rest of the world. No one had any real stomach for interfering on humanitarian grounds, not now. If the inhabitants of a country wanted change, they could change themselves.
But the Vesy were different, at least in some eyes. They weren’t human - and they were primitive. John had no doubt that a single destroyer could smash any overt resistance from orbit, but a long grinding insurgency would be a nightmare that would drain human resources beyond belief. If human politicians had no stomach for trying to impose a peace on Terra Nova, why would they have felt differently about the Vesy?
The Vesy aren't human, John reminded himself. Perhaps that makes a difference.
“That’s the problem,” Joelle said. John brought himself back to the conversation with a start. “I don’t think we could stop them, unless we offered fairly considerable bribes.”
“They might not take them,” John said. “Are you a religious person?”
“I was raised Presbyterian,” Joelle said. “I can't say I ever really followed the faith.”
John shrugged. “One of my old boyfriends was a Reformed Buddhist,” he said, smiling fondly. It hadn't lasted, but they’d shared some good times. “He would never eat meat, you see; I used to tease him about it when I was young and immature. I don’t think I could have convinced him to try a bacon sandwich, no matter what bribes I offered.”
“He took it seriously, I suppose,” Joelle said.
“He did,” John agreed. “Point is, Ambassador, would they change even if we offered them everything?”
He placed the empty mug on the table, then smiled. “We live in an age of profound scepticism,” he continued. “The Age of Unrest left us with a permanent fear of religious mania and a ruthless determination to prune down any group that started planning a holy war, even if it meant civilians getting caught in the crossfire. We know so much about the universe, including the existence of two other intelligent races, that we don’t really take religion that seriously any longer.”
“If that was true,” Joelle pointed out, “there wouldn't be any missionaries landing on Vesy.”
“Point,” John agreed. “But my point is that we don’t see religion as something to become emotional about, not now.”
“I don’t think that’s true for everyone,” Joelle said.
“We have an unspoken agreement to mind our own business when it comes to religion,” John conceded. It was true enough; a person could worship whatever they liked, as long as they kept it to themselves. “We no longer tolerate people trying to impose religious norms on an entire population. However, the Vesy do not share our view of the universe.”
“There are lots of humans who do not share that view of the universe,” Joelle objected. She held up a hand before he could say anything else. “I take your point, Captain, but not everyone will.”
“Precisely,” John said. “So you need to tell your superiors that meddling in alien religions is likely to end in disaster. They take their religions seriously.”
“I’ll try to bring it to their attention,” Joelle said.
John nodded. “The other concern may be a little more immediate,” he added. “A couple of Indian ships have been exploring the other tramlines, taking notes about where they actually lead.”
Joelle frowned. “And where do they lead?”
“Good question,” John said. “They’re not talking. There’s been no attempt to claim any of the systems as yet, apart from our claim to Pegasus, but that may not last.”
“Because the Outer Space Treaty grants transit rights to anyone with a colony at the end of a tramline chain,” Joelle finished. “If they registered a claim to one of the other systems, they’d have a legal right to pass through the Vesy System whenever they pleased.”
“Quite,” John agreed. “I’d like to detach one of the destroyers to do some basic survey work, but we’re desperately short of ships. Can you ask the Admiralty for reinforcements?”
Joelle blinked. “Can't you?”
“I’ve tried,” John said. There was a good prospect that the commander of any other warship that arrived would be senior to him, but he wouldn't have cared. “The Navy is stretched a little thin at the moment, Ambassador. They may not take the request seriously unless you countersign it.”
He sighed. “A few more American or even French warships would be equally welcome,” he admitted. “I don’t trust the Indians or the Chinese. It’s impossible to prove anything, but I
have a feeling they’re not searching ships as thoroughly as they should.”
“Shit,” Joelle said. “There’s no way to prove it?”
“Not without rigging a freighter ahead of time with visual sensors and recording everything,” John said. “We’d need someone else to collaborate, too; we have an agreement that each nation is responsible for searching its own ships. The Indians have brought in another dozen freighters in the last week alone.”
Joelle’s eyes narrowed. “Bringing what?”
“I wish I knew,” John said. “Weapons? Factories? Farming gear? Pornography?”
“I don’t think the Vesy would be interested in our porn,” Joelle said, dryly. “Mind you, they did let a couple of researchers watch the sex act. Only they wanted a demonstration of our sexual activity in return.”
A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) Page 21