He snickered at the thought, then sobered. They’d had their first major clash with the aliens since the fall of the God-King ... and who knew, really, what would happen next?
And where, he added to himself, did that rocket-launcher thingy come from?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You seem to be intact,” the doctor said. “I recommend a change of clothes, but other than that ...”
Penny barely heard him. Her entire body was shaking with fear and remembered horror. It seemed as though she’d been far too close to death. Somewhere along the line, she’d lost control of her bladder and wet herself ... and she hadn't even noticed. It hadn't been until the doctor had started to examine her that she’d realised her crotch was soaking wet.
And to think I was bored, she thought, bitterly.
“It’s natural to be a little shaken after being in danger,” the doctor continued. “Take the rest of the day off, if you like.”
“I don’t think much of your bedside manner,” Penny muttered. She wrapped her arms around her chest in the hope it would stop the shaking. “No words of false comfort? No sweet nothings? No pills?”
“I’m a military doctor,” the doctor pointed out, dryly. “Soldiers don’t normally want words of false comfort and would probably try to hit me if I uttered sweet nothings.”
Penny had to smile, despite her nerves. “What about the others?”
“Kun is currently in a drug-induced coma,” the doctor said. “Two of the Paras got hit with stones, but their body armour coped admirably. They have some bruises, which they will probably show off if you ask nicely, and not much else. I believe they’re being debriefed now.”
“Oh,” Penny said. She would have to see Hamish and his comrades again, if only to thank him for saving her life. “Will I be debriefed too?”
“Probably,” the doctor said, “but I insisted on getting you and Kun some medical treatment before anything else happened.”
“It was his fault,” Penny recalled. “Kun’s, I mean. He straight up told them that their gods don’t exist.”
“Not the brightest thing to do,” the doctor agreed. “Make that clear to the intelligence crew, when you speak to them. They may already have preconceptions of just what happened.”
Penny nodded, then rubbed her shoulder. Her recorder was gone, but she’d definitely had it in the helicopter; someone had probably taken it while she was in shock and handed it over to the intelligence crews. It was quite likely her superiors would make a fuss, yet she found it hard to care. The evidence needed to convict Kun of gross stupidity was on the recorder, after all.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” the doctor said, after a brief glance at Penny. “But this had better be important.”
The door opened and Percy stepped through, looking worried. “Is she alright?”
“She can speak for herself,” Penny snapped, before the doctor could say a word. “And she’s fine.”
“Just make sure you stay with someone else for the rest of the day, if you’re still shaking,” the doctor advised. Penny glowered at him. She knew who would want to spend the rest of the day with her. “But physically, you’re fine. I can prescribe sleeping tablets if you need them.”
“No, thank you,” Penny said. She’d used them once or twice and they’d always left her feeling rather thick-headed the following morning. She had the very definite impression that she would require all her wits around her when she was debriefed. “I’m fine, really.”
She slipped off the table and down to the ground. Her legs felt unsteady, for a moment, then she forced herself to stand upright properly. Percy watched her, concerned, but she refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him. The doctor nodded once, then turned back to his terminal and started to tap notes into the machine. Penny was tempted to watch - she knew doctors often added things to their notes they never said out loud - but she didn't have the time. Instead, she allowed Percy to lead her out of the room and into a small corridor.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” Percy said, once they were alone. “I’m ... I was desperately worried about you.”
“So was I,” Penny admitted. The shakes were fading away, replaced by a warm awareness that she’d survived her first brush with real combat. “Can we go back to my room so I can have a shower?”
Percy glanced at her, then nodded. Thankfully, the corridors were largely empty; they barely saw anyone before they entered the new living block. Penny allowed herself a moment of relief, then hurried into the communal shower and turned the water on. It was, as always, lukewarm. She’d hoped for a proper shower, but reporters were classed as somewhere below alien porters and biological threats.
“Go to my room,” she said, as she started to close the door. “Get my robe from behind the door and bring it back here.”
She took a long moment to wash her body, rubbing her skin clean, then dried herself with one of the communal towels and took the robe Percy offered her. It felt surprisingly warm against her bare skin, but she told herself it was just another effect of staying alive. Percy smiled tiredly at her as she came out of the shower compartment, then led her back to her room.
“I don’t think you should be alone right now,” he said, flatly.
Penny scowled. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Royal Marine?”
“I’ve got my bleeper,” Percy said. He tapped his belt, then leaned forward. “And I - my entire section - have been told, in no uncertain terms, to remain here so we can be debriefed by the head sheds. We’re not exactly withdrawn from the front lines, but it will be a long time before we’re called up again.”
“Oh,” Penny said.
“We’re still defending you,” Percy added, mischievously. “But we’re pretty much the last line of defence right now.”
Penny nodded, then led the way into her room. It wasn't much; a cramped bed, a tiny washbasin and a set of drawers, but it was home as long as she stayed on Vesy. A faint rattling sound could be heard as the air conditioner fought to keep the temperature at a reasonable level, losing the battle one step at a time. She sat down on the bed, then shook her head in droll amusement. Where the hell was Percy supposed to sit?
He solved that problem by sitting on the floor, then crossing his legs and peering up at the picture Penny had hung on the wall. It had been taken seven years ago, before the war; their father and mother stood together, with their children between them. Percy didn't look anything like as muscular as he did now, she had to admit, while she looked disgustingly cute. Their mother had been fond of dressing Penny up whenever they went out together.
“They still haven’t found the body,” she said, following his gaze. “No one really knows what happened to her.”
Percy looked irked. “I still haven’t been able to uncover the mystery of just what happened to our father, either,” he admitted. “I thought you were going to crack the puzzle all by yourself.”
“The whole affair is cut and dried, as far as my editor is concerned,” Penny said. “And the other person who might be able to tell us that we know, outside our work, is the same person who flatly refused to talk about it.”
“Admiral Fitzwilliam,” Percy said.
Penny nodded, slowly. Admiral Fitzwilliam had always treated them well, even though they weren’t his biological children, but there were some things he had refused to talk about, even to them. If there was anyone who had a right to know what had happened on Ark Royal’s final flight, it was Percy and Penny ... unsurprisingly, that argument hadn't managed to unlock the Admiral’s lips. He’d simply refused to discuss the matter at all.
“We’ll find out one day,” Percy said. He looked up at her. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to go back to the media ship and stay there?”
“No,” Penny said, flatly. She smirked, then said the next words with malice aforethought. “I owe Hamish a drink.”
Percy frowned. “You’re going on a date with a Para?”
“It isn’t a date
,” Penny protested. “It’s a drink.”
“Not that there’s much else to do here,” Percy muttered. “Look, I know how this is meant to go. I’m meant to object hugely, which will encourage you to go on the date anyway, despite my misgivings. So I won’t do anything of the sort. In fact, I will tell you that Hamish is a wonderful man.”
“Thank you,” Penny said. “So you won’t object to me going for a drink with him?”
Percy sighed as she started to giggle. “Just make sure you don’t go until you’re feeling a bit more stable,” he warned. “You're not in a good state for making decisions right now.”
“Tell me something,” Penny said. “Would this explain some of your girlfriends?”
“Probably,” Percy muttered. He pointed to the pillow, meaningfully. “Get some sleep, Pen-Pen. You need it.”
“I know,” Penny said. She glanced at her watch, then frowned. 1445; it felt later, much later. “You can go see to your men, if you like. I won’t go anywhere until morning.”
***
“I’m not looking for recriminations,” Joelle said, as she glared around the office. Grace, Colonel Boone, Mortimer and Professor Nordstrom looked back at her, while Captain Naiser was attending electronically. “What I want to know is what happened and why.”
“The why is simple,” Mortimer said. “We studied the records from Miss Schneider’s personal media device. Kun, who clearly wasn't a great thinker, told the aliens, outright, that their gods did not exist. They didn't take it too kindly.”
“Damn it,” Joelle snapped. “What was he thinking?”
“Probably that it was his duty to bring the cold light of rationality to the comforting darkness of ignorance,” Professor Nordstrom said. “Or so he claimed, on his Social Blog. The Eminent Rationalists believe that religion held humanity back for years, wasting effort on crusades and jihads and wasting resources building temples to God we could have been using to develop ourselves. They presumably feel that the Vesy suffer from the same problem.”
“And the Vesy got pissed,” Mortimer said.
“It’s worse than that,” Boone offered. The Para leaned forward, grimly. “They had to take refuge in what we assume was a birthing chamber. Our xenospecialists believe that they lay the eggs, then leave them in the ground to ripen. The battle will almost certainly have killed dozens of unborn children. They won't take that very kindly either.”
He paused, then nodded to Professor Nordstrom.
“It’s impossible to be sure until we hear from them,” the Professor said, “but there’s a very strong possibility that children of aristocrats, religious personalities and other people of importance were killed. It would make sense, we think, for most Vesy to lay their eggs at home, rather than place them in a birthing chamber.”
“We do have maternity wards,” Joelle pointed out.
“I don’t think it’s the same,” Professor Nordstrom said. “Our children are completely helpless when they come out of the womb. Their children are already quite tough when they break out of the egg and fight their way to the surface.”
Joelle shivered, feeling a moment of pity for the infant aliens. The idea of being buried alive was one of humanity’s worst nightmares, but the Vesy were practically born in the soil. Maybe they liked the idea of having them all born in one place, or maybe it was designed to allow the children to impress on one another, to become familiar with their scent before their parents arrived to collect them. Scent was important to the Vesy; indeed, it was quite possible that one city’s population would smell quite different to another city’s population.
They may have problems understanding us because we don’t smell right, she thought, morbidly. Or they may never be able to create proper nation-states because the larger the group, the less communal the smell.
She shuddered, then pushed the thought aside. “So we have a major crisis on our hands,” she said. “How do you propose we deal with it?”
“Give Kun to the Vesy,” Mortimer said. “Let them do as they please with him.”
“That would cause political problems back home,” Joelle muttered. “We don’t have an extradition treaty with the Vesy and, even if we did, we would need to try him in Britain first.”
“The World Court may insist on hearing the case,” Grace pointed out.
“Tell the Vesy he’s dead,” Captain Naiser offered. “They know he was carried out by one of the Paras, so tell them the rock actually inflicted internal injuries and that he died on the helicopter on the way back to Fort Knight.”
“They’d want to see the body,” Boone said.
“Tell them we cremated the body,” Captain Naiser said. “They don’t have any way of proving us liars.”
“And what,” Boone asked, “do we do with the real Kun?”
“Put him in the brig,” Captain Naiser suggested. “We can send him back to Earth on the next ship, with enough evidence to put him in jail for a very long time. He’s certainly guilty of ignoring the rules governing contact with the Vesy, if nothing else.”
“His lawyer would probably point out that he didn't sign the rules,” Grace said.
“Immaterial,” Joelle said. “He caused a riot that resulted in the deaths of countless aliens, including unborn children, and nearly killed seven humans, including himself. I don’t think we can afford to do anything else.”
She looked at Mortimer. “Have him moved to orbit and dumped in the nearest brig before he gets out of his coma,” she ordered. “His possessions can be seized, searched and then placed in the communal pool.”
“Yes, Ambassador,” Mortimer said.
“But we have two other problems,” Boone said. “First, what are we going to say to the Vesy of City Seven, when their leaders finally come out of hiding? Second, where did that rocket launcher come from?”
“Shame your people couldn't capture it,” Mortimer said.
Boone glowered at him. “It was destroyed,” he said, “which suggests it wasn't a very well-made design. However, it wasn't the only human weapon involved in the skirmish. There were quite a few automatic rifles involved too.”
Joelle tapped the table, sharply. “So where did they come from?”
“City Seven wasn't the recipient of any of our weapons,” Mortimer said. “They could be Russian, but I rather doubt it. The Indians are the most likely suspects.”
“They wouldn't have given the Vesy a rocket-launcher,” Grace said. “Would they?”
“I wouldn't have thought so,” Mortimer said. “But I could easily be wrong.”
“It's something to raise at the next meeting,” Joelle said. One had hastily been arranged for the following day, once word had spread to the other ambassadors. It wasn't a discussion she was looking forward to. “But whoever gave them the weapon has a strong motive to keep it to themselves.”
“Because it’s a weapon that could be used against us,” Captain Naiser growled.
“Correct,” Joelle agreed.
She sat backwards, feeling old. “So what are we going to tell the Vesy?”
“Tell them that Kun is dead and that we will pay compensation for the results of his stupidity,” Captain Naiser said. “And then see what they want in exchange for burying the whole affair.”
“Wait a minute,” Boone growled. “It is a principle of our operations that we don’t pay compensation.”
“This is not a made-up claim,” Captain Naiser snapped. “This isn't some backwards farmer trying to convince us that his elderly mother-in-law was accidentally killed by a rocket that missed its intended target by fifty miles, or that he had a hundred sheep in his backyard that were flash-fried by a plasma blast. There is no doubt that Kun provoked a riot, that upwards of a hundred Vesy were killed, that an unknown number of eggs were smashed ... this is going to make us look very bad back home, if nothing else. What would we think if an outside force came into a nursery and killed a dozen children?”
“We’d want blood,” Mortimer muttered.
�
��Exactly,” Captain Naiser said. His image looked at Joelle. “Find out what they want in compensation, Ambassador, and pay it.”
Joelle cursed under her breath. She must be getting old, because the media issue hadn't occurred to her even though a reporter had been caught up in the riot. By the time the news reached home, it would probably have mutated; the Paras would find themselves with a black mark on their record that made Bloody Sunday look like nothing. The simple fact that the Paras had acted in self-defence would be lost in the recriminations. By the time the government had finished its investigations, the truth would be completely buried under a mountain of shit.
A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) Page 24