A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5)

by Christopher Nuttall

  But one thing was certain. A great many Vesy were about to die.

  “We need to counter this,” she said. She could simply withdraw the mission - she did have that authority - but that would concede Vesy to the Indians. By the time the legal battle ended, the Indians would be more firmly entrenched than ever. “I propose offering an agreement of our own to our allies. Get them to form a ... a Vesy-UN.”

  “The UN ended badly,” Schultz pointed out.

  “They need a united front,” Barouche said. “But how far are we prepared to go?”

  Joelle swallowed. The Indians had brought more weapons and tools to Vesy than anyone else, as far as she knew. They’d even set up factories to produce bullets and other basic equipment the Vesy would need ... and the Russians, of course, had introduced the Vesy to gunpowder. What else would they introduce to the aliens? Armoured vehicles? Light aircraft? Long-range guns?

  And even if she wanted to open the floodgates, she was damn sure the PM wouldn't agree to an unlimited arms race. Too many MPs would defect to the Opposition if he did.

  The Indians might just have won, she thought, grimly.

  “Give them whatever we can,” Schultz said. “And pledge to defend them against the Indians, should they take an active hand in the coming war ...”

  “We can't keep that pledge,” Barouche pointed out. “Between us, we have nine warships in the system. Seven if the Chinese don’t get involved.”

  Joelle looked at the Chinese Ambassador, who shrugged. “My government has not issued any orders,” he said. “I believe, however, that they do not consider Vesy to be a prime concern.”

  So they might have done some horse-trading with the Indians already, Joelle thought, coldly. China and India were neighbours, after all; they might have found a reason to cooperate, even though they distrusted each other. If they don’t give a damn about the Vesy, it would be quite easy to abandon them - and, in doing so, shatter the unity of the Big Five beyond repair.

  “The Indians have twenty-two warships in the system, plus a number of armed freighters,” Barouche continued. “They have at least six thousand troops on the ground, going by my intelligence staff’s estimates. I don’t think we can keep them from driving us away from Vesy, if they feel like it.”

  “They couldn't win a war against the combined might of America, Britain, China and France,” Schultz snapped. “They’d have to be insane to start one.”

  “Or crazy like a fox,” Barouche said. “Are you so willing to break the Solar Treaty? To shatter the Earth Defence Organisation?”

  “They’re playing poker for very high stakes,” Joelle said. Barouche had a point; the Indians might well be gambling that the Big Five wouldn't want to break the Solar Treaty, no matter what the Indians did. And they might well be right. “They could easily blunder into a war.”

  She rose. “With your permission, I will seek an interview with Ivan at once,” she added. “If you talk to your allies, we can try to put together a united front. And hope that the Indians hold off long enough for the diplomats back home to sort things out.”

  “Really?” Schultz asked, as he rose too. “I had the impression they wanted us to sort things out.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “This could get interesting,” Peerce muttered, as the small convoy approached Ivan’s City. “And not in a good way.”

  Percy nodded. It was the first time they’d been allowed to take the AFVs out of Fort Knight, save for the training exercises they’d conducted with the Paras, and he was grimly aware that the Vesy were watching them through cold beady eyes. They didn't seem scared of the vehicles, merely contemplative; they’d not only seen them being deployed from the shuttles, but also taking the long way around to get to their destination. Going off-road slowed them down considerably.

  We should have brought heavier tanks, he thought, grimly. The Bulldogs were, in theory, all-terrain vehicles, but they had their limits. And perhaps some more firepower as well.

  “We couldn't get them very far into the city, sir,” Peerce warned. “I’d hate to have to fight my way through the city, block by block.”

  “Yeah,” Percy agreed. He’d done training simulations for urban warfare and they all agreed that it was nightmarish, with all the advantages of high technology cut down to the bare minimum. In hindsight, Penny and the Paras - including one who seemed to be well on the way to becoming her boyfriend - had been incredibly lucky. “We couldn't clear the whole city easily.”

  He keyed his radio as they approached the gates. “Stop well away from the walls, then dismount,” he ordered. “We’ll stick to the script.”

  The Bulldog lurched to a halt. Percy checked his rifle automatically, then jumped down to the ground, followed by five other Marines. Behind them, the Paras hastily secured the Bulldogs, then opened a hatch, allowing the Ambassador to climb out. She looked hot and sweaty, Percy noted; her shirt was clinging to her skin in all the right places. He looked away hastily, towards the welcoming party emerging from the gates. They couldn't afford any problems, not now.

  “We greet you,” the lead alien said. “We will take you to our leader.”

  The Ambassador’s lips twitched. “It would be my honour,” she said. “These men will accompany me.”

  Percy nodded to his men, then followed the ambassador through the gates and into the city itself. Ivan’s City had always seemed odd, a combination of old structures and newer - human-inspired - buildings, but now it seemed on edge. Hundreds of aliens were watching them, standing by the roadside or staring from windows; he couldn't help feeling more threatened than he’d felt when he’d taken part in the attack on the Russian base. There were no weapons in view, but that wasn't reassuring. Normally, every alien in sight, apart from the slaves, would be armed with a sword. It was out of character for them and it bothered him.

  The aliens were eerily silent as the humans approached the central building. Percy had dubbed it the Palace, even though he wasn't sure it was anything of the sort. Ivan wasn't a king or an emperor, at least as far as Percy knew; he was a strange cross between elected religious leader and professional politician. And he’d been a resistance leader, back before encountering the British. But the precise terms simply didn't translate very well.

  He glanced at the Ambassador, whose face was pinched and drawn. She looked alarmingly like his mother for a long moment, in expression if not in appearance. Percy shivered, recalling his mother’s expressions during the war, back when she’d come into his father’s share of the prize money from the alien ship. Maybe he would have thought better of her, he knew, if he'd known she would be lost to him shortly afterwards.

  They stepped into the palace, which was mercifully cool. Percy watched grimly as they were led down a long corridor, decorated with alien carvings, and into a giant ballroom-sized compartment. Hell, perhaps it was a ballroom. He had no idea if the aliens actually danced, but maybe they did. There was so little humanity truly knew about the Vesy. Ivan was seated on a giant throne, flanked by a number of other aliens. Percy’s eyes narrowed as he realised they came from different cities. He hoped the ambassador saw it, because he couldn't speak to her now. It would be undiplomatic.

  “The guards stay here,” the alien escort said. “The Speaker approaches alone.”

  Percy gritted his teeth, very aware that they might have walked straight into a trap, but did as he was told.

  ***

  Joelle had never felt so pressured in her life, even when she’d just started out in the Foreign Office and her mentor had piled her with so much work - and pointless tasks - that she nearly broke under the strain. Sweat trickled down her back, alternatively hot and cold as gusts of air blew through the giant building; her back and buttocks ached after sitting in the cramped vehicle and trying to focus her mind. The alien escort stepped back as she approached Ivan, unsure - for once - just how to talk to him. This too was unprecedented.

  They prefer us to be blunt, she told herself. It went against the
grain - insulting a human leader to his face tended to lead to diplomatic incidents - but it would have to be borne. It’s the only way to deal with them.

  “The Flowered Clan have secured the open support of the Indians,” she said, without preamble. “They have signed a series of treaties with them. One of those treaties grants them recognition as the sole rulers of the system.”

  Ivan let out a hissing sound. “They do not rule the world,” he said. “Their allies know this to be so.”

  Joelle hesitated. The Vesy would be unimpressed by any assertion that recognising someone as having authority conferred authority. All that mattered to them was power and the will to use it to shape reality, not names. If they’d been ruling Britain in 1940, they would promptly have recognised Nazi Germany as the ruler of Europe, even though there were a number of free governments in exile. But it probably wouldn't have stopped them fighting.

  Though we did get into trouble ourselves through recognising the wrong government, she thought. That nearly cost us a war more than once.

  “They have a legal claim to large parts of your star system,” she said. “This claim may well be upheld by human courts.”

  Ivan looked at her. “Your system makes no sense,” he charged. “Why would human courts be involved?”

  “Our weapons are terrifyingly destructive,” Joelle said. By his standards, he had a point. The Vesy might be irked at the Turks - and everyone else - snatching asteroids, but they wouldn't waste time whining about the unfairness of it all. It was just what the powerful did when they had power. “We prefer to try to avoid confrontations that might lead to mass slaughter on both sides.”

  Absently, she wondered if the Indians had told the Vesy about the Tadpoles - or the First Interstellar War. Did the Vesy know that they and humanity weren't the only intelligent race out there? Or that a war between the other two had claimed literally billions of lives. More humans had died in the war than there were Vesy on Vesy.

  “So they have an agreement with the Flowered Clan,” Ivan said, after a moment. It took Joelle a second to realise he’d simply dismissed her words. “This is of no concern to us.”

  “It will be,” Joelle said. “The Indians will use these agreements to assist the Flowered Clan to take over the entire planet. They are already preparing to wage war against you.”

  “We have already received offers to switch sides,” Ivan said. “What do you intend to offer to counterbalance their offer?”

  Blunt, Joelle thought. Very blunt.

  “We can offer the same level of protection and support as the Indians are offering the Flowered Clan,” Joelle said, simply. “They will be unable to provide direct assistance to the Flowered Clan.”

  “We are given to understand that they have more” - a word Joelle didn't recognise - “than you,” Ivan said. “Can you keep your word?”

  Joelle blinked. Did the alien mean starships? The Vesy weren't ignorant, by any means; they had telescopes and starships were visible from the surface, but how could they tell the difference between British and Indian ships? Coming to think of it, how could they identify a warship? It wouldn't look that different to a freighter if one didn't know what to look for ...

  Or someone talked to them, she thought. Or the Indians simply did a little boasting.

  “They would start a general war if they decided to challenge us,” she said, pushing the question aside for later contemplation. “It would be” - she searched desperately for an analogy that might make sense to the Vesy - “it would be like attacking a party of troops in unclaimed territory. There would be a general war once the survivors got home and reported in.”

  She hoped that made sense, although she wasn't sure. The Vesy didn't really seem to have fixed borders, not as humans understood the term. Each city-state had farmland, then grazing land, then land that remained largely unclaimed. Indeed, she had a private suspicion that some of the smaller settlements, positioned between two of the larger city-states, wound up paying taxes to both sides.

  “We would also require considerably more support,” Ivan said. “The Flowered Clan has received a great many items you never suggested were possible.”

  Joelle swore, mentally. What the hell were the Indians playing at?

  “We will try to match what they have offered,” she said, instead. “And there may be other things we can offer to you.”

  ***

  Percy couldn't help wondering, after the first hour became the second, just how long the Vesy intended to keep them in the city. The aliens watching them didn't seem restless, as far as he could tell; indeed, they stood so still they could easily pass for soldiers on their passing-out parade. It wasn't so easy for him, despite years of training. The crippling awareness that they were in the midst of a city full of heavily-armed aliens, aliens who could easily turn from friendly to murderous in a split second. By the time the Ambassador was finally released, he would almost have welcomed a fight, if only to break the monotony.

  The aliens led them back out of the Palace, past the hordes of watching aliens, and out to the AFVs. Percy was amused to note that the Ambassador looked almost relieved to be back in the vehicle, even though he knew from bitter experience that they were hot, uncomfortable, smelly and impossible to escape if something punched through the armour before it was too late. But there shouldn't be anything on the planet that could do any real damage, he’d been assured ...

  But there was that damned rocket launcher, he thought, as he scrambled up onto the AFV, Peerce right behind him. Colonel Boone had told him, during his debriefing, to try and capture an intact launcher next time, if only so that they could figure out who to blame for giving it to the aliens in the first place. What would that do to an AFV?

  He shook his head, then tapped his headset, telling the driver to take them back to Fort Knight. Bulldogs had the latest in light ablative armour; bullets would simply bounce off them, as would primitive antitank weapons. But plasma cannons and modern missiles would rip the Bulldogs open like tin cans, killing everyone inside before they had a chance to escape. Hell, if the vehicles hadn't been so light, they probably would have been removed from service long before the war. He grabbed hold of the railing as the vehicle lurched to life, then forced himself to relax. They’d be back at Fort Knight shortly and grab some downtime before they were expected to go back on duty.

  “I don't think negotiations went well, sir,” Peerce noted, through the radio. “The Ambassador didn’t look pleased.”

  “Looks that way,” Percy said. He kept a sharp eye on the alien countryside as the Bulldog continued to circle the jungle between Ivan’s City and Fort Knight. “The Indians have stolen a march on us.”

  He felt a flicker of sympathy for Ivan. The alien was caught between two human powers, both of whom might abandon him in a split second. He had to worry about just how reliable the British were, particularly after Kun’s stupidity. Ivan couldn't support the British openly as long as there were question marks over British interference in his society.

  And Kun convinced many of them we couldn’t be trusted, he thought, darkly. God damn the bastard to hell.

  He ducked before his mind had quite registered the gunshot. A bullet pinged off the AFV, fired from the jungle. Percy closed and dogged the hatch, just before a hail of fire swept over the Bulldogs, glancing off the armour and spinning off into the tall grass.

  “Contact,” he snapped, keying his headset. “I say again, contact!”

  “At least seven aggressors, hiding in the jungle,” Peerce noted. “Do we return fire?”

  Percy hesitated. So far, the attackers hadn't shown anything actually capable of hurting the Bulldogs ... and he didn't want to make the situation worse by leaving a number of dead aliens behind him. But on the other hand, not making a vigorous response could easily cause more problems for Fort Knight. It might well be seen as a sign of weakness.

  And they already see us as potential blasphemers, he thought. It could get a great deal worse.

&nb
sp; “Swing the machine guns, then return fire,” he ordered.

  The incoming fire slacked off as the machine guns unleashed a long blast into the jungle, slicing through trees and bushes with effortless ease. Percy watched, waiting for the enemy to either run or return to the attack, wondering if they’d realised just how lethal machine guns could be against what the aliens normally used for cover. Trees that would stop arrows with ease would be ripped apart by the machine guns. A handful of shots rang out, then silence.

  His headset buzzed. “Lieutenant, two assault helicopters are taking off now,” a voice said. “Drones inbound; I say again, drones inbound.”