A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “And what,” the alien said, “would you want in exchange?”

  And how, Anjeet added mentally, are you planning to betray me?

  He smiled, inwardly. Ivan would have had problems wrapping his head around the concept of bare-faced lying, but once he'd gotten the idea it would probably have occurred to him that Anjeet could lie as easily as Ambassador Richardson. The Vesy did seem to place more weight on the word of a soldier, rather than a civilian, yet Anjeet knew better than to take that for granted. He might well be blinded by his own preconception that soldiers were inherently more noble than civilians.

  And besides, he reminded himself, just about every freeman in that city will be a warrior.

  “The Flowered Clans will want your support in destroying the British-led alliance,” Anjeet said, flatly. It was true enough, but it would have the added advantage of making it impossible for Ivan to switch sides a second time. “Your city must join us in war.”

  “You speak of fighting a foe who can drop hammers from the sky,” Ivan pointed out. “The Russians smashed walls with firebolts, the British stomped on the God-King so hard that the ground shook miles away. His forces were crushed. Who could fight such a foe?”

  Anjeet swore, inwardly. Most of the Vesy he’d spoken to hadn't quite taken the concept of KEWs seriously. How could they when all they’d heard had been rumours? But Ivan had seen the Russians and British both use KEWs to great effect. He knew they were far more than just absurd rumours, rumours that had grown in the telling.

  “They will be barred from deploying any such weapons,” Anjeet said, simply. There was no point in saying anything else. “We will be extending our protective umbrella over you too. To drop rocks on you would mean a general war.”

  He wished, suddenly, for the ability to read minds. Emotions were one thing, but emotions could be controlled. Ivan had to know he’d been betrayed - and that the Flowered Clan was a mortal threat to his city - and yet, he might fear the consequences of switching sides. But if he didn't switch sides, and word got out, he would rapidly find himself replaced. His government, insofar as the term could be used, would fall.

  “Then we will join you, on even terms,” Ivan said. “What do you want us to do?”

  “We welcome you,” Anjeet said, without a trace of irony. He took a moment to organise his thoughts. “This is what we want you to do ...”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Captain,” Tara said. “We just picked up a FLASH alert from the drones monitoring Tramline Three.”

  John blinked in surprise. Tramline One led - eventually - to Cromwell and Earth, while Tramline Two led to Pegasus, but the remaining tramlines were largely unexplored. No one who had jumped along them had reported back, at least to him. Chances were they had slipped back to Earth, if there was anything worth claiming, to lodge a claim with the World Court.

  But a FLASH alert? That meant trouble.

  “Yellow alert,” he ordered. “Can you get me an IFF?”

  “Not yet, sir,” Tara said. “The newcomers probably wouldn't bother announcing themselves to the drones.”

  Because the drones are stealthy and meant to remain ignored, John thought. Placing them there would probably have annoyed the beancounters - drones were expensive - if they hadn't just proved their value. There’s nothing to gain by signalling them.

  “Keep an eye on the tramline,” he ordered, glancing at his display and running through some mental calculations. Assuming the newcomers headed straight for Vesy - the drone would send a second update soon, if it was close enough to track them - it would be at least nine hours before they reached orbit. “Let me know the moment we pick up either a sensor image or beacon data.”

  “Aye, sir,” Tara said.

  John forced himself to sit still, thinking hard. The drone had sent a FLASH alert, which meant that more than one ship had come through the tramline, but it hadn't sent an update. Had the drone been honestly unable to glean enough data ... or had the drone been attacked before it could send a second message? Or was he just being paranoid? If someone was good enough to locate, then destroy the drone before it sent a second message the Royal Navy was in deep trouble. No known sensor array, human or Tadpole, could track the drones except at very close range ...

  They might be aliens, he told himself. It would have seemed unlikely, five years ago, but now two non-human races were known to exist. Why not a third? Or the Tadpoles could have decided to pay a visit.

  He shook his head, after a moment. Vesy was deep within the Human Sphere; the Tadpoles could have come to investigate a whole new intelligent race, but they would have passed through human space and someone would have forwarded an alert to him first. Hell, given the growing tension, it might be the best thing that could happen. The EDO treaties would be activated and the human forces would band together, just in case. Who knew what the Tadpoles might have in mind?

  “Picking up a second transmission,” Gillian said, breaking into his thoughts. “Captain ... I think you’re going to want to see this.”

  “Show me,” John ordered, feeling cold ice congealing around his spine. “Put it on my display.”

  He sucked in his breath a moment later as twelve icons appeared on the display. Seven of them were frigates, four were cruisers ... and one was very definitely a fleet carrier. It wasn't transmitting any IFF signals, but the Combat Information Computer had no difficulty in identifying it as INS Viraat, the Indian carrier. Between the newcomers and the forces already in orbit around the planet, a good two-thirds of the Indian Space Navy had been dispatched to Vesy. John had known the other warships were badly outmatched, but this ... he shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. The Indians had dispatched enough firepower to cause a great deal of damage to a seemingly unimportant star system.

  There must be a link between Vesy and the Indian colonies, he thought, grimly. It was hard to predict the tramlines, but logic suggested that one of them might go towards a star that had a tramline to New Delhi. They must have scouted out the system during their early explorations, then brought ships with alien-grade drives through the tramlines.

  “Send a priority alert to the relay ships,” he ordered. The presence of the ships meant ... what? A deliberate attempt to intimidate everyone or a mere coincidence? He had to admit the latter was possible. No one, but a complete idiot would attempt to coordinate a multipart operation over a hundred light years. “Attach the sensor readings and inform the First Space Lord that matters may be reaching their denouement.”

  We thought we had an advantage, John thought, as Gillian hurried to send the message. The link through Pegasus should have let us get ships to Vesy quicker than anyone else. But the Indians may have their own pathway through the tramlines.

  “Then send a second priority alert to Ambassador Richardson and Colonel Boone,” John added, feeling almost mesmerised by the tonnage bearing down on him. “Inform them that the Indians have raised the stakes yet again.”

  He glanced at the status board and swore under his breath. There were hundreds of tiny outposts on Vesy, not counting either Fort Knight or the Indian bases. Did the Indians believe they could seize the entire planet? Or were they just racheting up the tension in hopes of getting something out of it? They’d have to be mad to risk war with the Great Powers, even after the First Interstellar War ...

  “Captain,” Gillian said, “I’m picking up a PTA burst from the direction of Tramline Three, with IFF signals attached. The Indians are requesting permission to enter orbit.”

  How very polite, John thought, sarcastically. The words of a very old joke ran through his mind. Where does a fleet carrier-based task force sit? Anywhere it wants to.

  “Contact System Command and request that they assign the Indians orbital slots,” he ordered. Maybe it was just a friendly visit after all. And if that was true, he added privately, he'd give up his command and go work in Sin City as a fucktoy. “And keep a sharp eye on them.”

  He gritted his teeth as he
looked back at the drone’s sensor images. The cruisers alone would be a nightmare, if the Indians did intend to chase them away from Vesy, but the carrier tipped the balance firmly in their favour. No one had actually tested one of the post-war carriers, not outside simulations and war games ... he shook his head. The human race had learned a whole series of nasty lessons from the war and the Indians would be ready for anything he could do, if he had a chance to put up a fight. And he couldn't even leave orbit and prepare for a scrap without causing a diplomatic incident ...

  “Send a second message to Ambassador Richardson,” he added. “Invite her onboard Warspite at her earliest convenience.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gillian said.

  John left her to get on with it, thinking hard. The Indians had raised the stakes once again, but why? What did they hope to get out of it? They already had a powerful alien faction on their side, with a guaranteed supply of weapons and ammunition to keep them on their side, and they’d created a great deal of disagreement among the ranks of the Great Powers ... what more did they want? Why bring the carrier at all?

  It couldn't be a coincidence. Fleet carriers were expensive to build and maintain; John knew, for a fact, that no British carriers had travelled beyond Britannia until Ark Royal had launched its first strike into alien space. Hell, even the Americans had been reluctant to send a carrier more than a tramline or two away from their claimed systems ... and they’d been staring down the barrels of a war with China. The Indians were taking one hell of a chance sending INS Viraat so far from Earth. It definitely couldn't be a coincidence ...

  He swore as it struck him. There was something the Indians could do ... and if they were lucky, it would allow them to walk away with Vesy, enhanced status and no threat of a general war.

  “Mr. Howard, you have the bridge,” he said, rising from his chair. “Inform me the moment the Indians come into sensor range. Gillian, get me a direct and secure link to Colonel Boone.”

  “Aye, sir,” Howard said.

  John stepped into his office, then sat down at the desk and waited, impatiently, for Boone’s face to appear in the display.

  “Captain,” Boone said. He didn't sound worried, although Paras were notoriously phlegmatic. “I hear we have more guests.”

  “Enough firepower to kick the ass of anything smaller than a Theodore Smith-class carrier and escorts,” John said, flatly. Perhaps Admiral Soskice’s theories about the role of the starfighter in modern war were about to be tested. “But they may not be the real problem.”

  He took a breath. “I think you can expect a major attack soon, Colonel,” he added. “Either on Fort Knight and the outposts, or on the cities supporting us.”

  Boone frowned. “Why?”

  “The Indians would have to be crazy to start a fight here,” John said. “It isn't just us, Colonel; they’d be picking a fight with the Americans and French, perhaps even the Chinese. And there are quite a few other smaller powers here too. The Indians could find themselves at war with everyone else.”

  “True enough,” Boone said.

  John met his eyes. “But they have an agreement with the Flowered Clan,” he added. “They’ve agreed to defend them against any human attempts to intervene in their conflicts - say, by hammering advancing columns from orbit. They drew a line, Colonel, and they made damn certain we would know about the line. And what does that mean if the Flowered Clan launches a war against us?”

  “We have the right to defend ourselves,” Boone said, stiffly.

  “But if we called on our most effective weapons, the Indians would be obliged to join the war,” John said. “And they have enough firepower to rapidly wipe out everyone in orbit before we could make a real difference. I think they sent a carrier because they wanted to make it clear that any attempt to join the war would be an exercise in futility.”

  “They could pretty much win a war against us here, on Vesy,” Boone pointed out. “Would they win a war against us everywhere else?”

  John ticked off points on his fingers as he spoke. “Five years ago, they would have been swatted down long ago,” he said. “Now, after the war, is that still true? Do we have the nerve to take them on, even though victory is certain? And it would come at a very high price, Colonel. We’d be weakening humanity’s defences against the Tadpoles - or any other alien threat.”

  “And they’d be counting on the Solar Treaty remaining in force,” Boone said. “We wouldn't be able to hammer their industries because they’re orbiting the Earth!”

  “Precisely,” John said. “They could lose both of their out-system settlements, Colonel, but they wouldn't be greatly harmed.”

  “Then we bluff them,” Boone said. “Tell them that we won’t feel obliged to honour the treaties.”

  “They would call our bluff,” John said.

  And it would be a bluff, he knew. Eighty percent of humanity’s remaining industry was orbiting the Earth, vulnerable to a war breaking out among two human powers. Britain couldn't take the risk of uniting the remaining nations against it, while the Indians wouldn’t, not when it worked out in their favour to honour the treaties. The hell of it was that he could see it working, even if the Indians did manage to start a war with the rest of the human race.

  They know we can't take risks with the industrial base we need to support another war, he thought, numbly. The sheer scale of the plan worked in their favour; hell, even he had trouble believing in it. And that traps us into playing their game. Either surrender what they want and allow them to reap the rewards of boldness or fight a war that might have no real winners.

  “I see,” Boone said, sourly. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Prepare for attack,” John ordered. He was the military commander of the mission, but he would defer to Boone on the ground. “Get as many people as you can into defensible positions and secure Fort Knight.”

  “I can try,” Boone said. “Many of the NGOs aren't respecting our authority so much, now.”

  John groaned. The Indians had started to offer basing rights to NGOs, even ones that couldn't be relied upon to toe the party line. It had puzzled him at the time, until he’d realised the NGOs were largely working with Vesy cities that had already obtained weapons from the Indians. The arrangement suited both parties; the NGOs got to introduce new ideas to the Vesy, while the aliens got their weapons from third parties. Given time, the Flowered Clan would become the dominant force on the surface, while the Indians ruled the skies.

  “Do the best you can,” he ordered. “Have a word with the other military officers on the surface too. Their bases may come under attack.”

  “And none of them are as well-defended as Fort Knight,” Boone finished. “And we’re not as well-defended as the Indian fortress.”

  John sighed, bitterly. “Do the best you can,” he repeated. “I’ll speak to the Ambassador and get back to you.”

  “Understood,” Boone said. “Have a good one, sir.”

  “Thank you,” John said.

  He tapped a switch, closing the channel, and then glanced at his updates. Ambassador Richardson had agreed to visit Warspite, but she needed to talk to two of the alien representatives first. John groaned, then forced himself to focus on writing out a report to the First Space Lord. It would be relayed to Earth before the Indian carrier entered orbit and then ...

  They can't spare anything capable of standing up to the Indians, he thought. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to admire the Indian who’d dreamed up the whole scheme, to shake his hand and then strangle him. They’d taken the opportunities presented by Vesy and run with them, while the Great Powers had been arguing over just what should happen to the Russian deserters. We need to take the initiative, somehow, but we can't. The bastards have boxed us in neatly ...

  His intercom pinged. “Captain, a freighter just popped through Tramline One,” Gillian said. “She transmitted a sealed message for you.”

  “Understood,” John said. He wondered, briefly, if someo
ne at home had finally realised that Viraat was missing. “Send it down to my terminal here.”

  The message, when it popped up on his display, insisted on a full series of security codes, fingerprint scans and DNA readings before it condescended to decrypt itself. John cursed inwardly - anything so sensitive had to be trouble - then swore under his breath as the message activated, displaying an image of the First Space Lord.

  “John,” the First Space Lord said. “The World Court, after weeks of arguing, has finally come to a set of decisions concerning Vesy. I’m afraid they won’t make your position any easier. This message should be a day or two ahead of the official notification, assuming I’ve timed it properly. It’s all the warning I can give you.”