She walked past Roebuck, out of the room and down towards her barracks. Somehow, she wasn't surprised to see Percy standing there, carrying enough weaponry to fight a minor war.
“Percy,” she said. “Is this for real?”
“Yes,” Percy said, flatly. Her brother looked her up and down. “Pen-Pen, I need you to put your name on the list for immediate evacuation ...”
“No,” Penny said, surprising them both. “I can't just cut and run ...”
Percy took a step forward, then stopped himself with an effort. “Pen-Pen ...”
“My name is Penny, or Penelope if you insist on being formal,” Penny snarled. Being called Pen-Pen made her feel like a child, even though it had been cute and funny years ago. But they’d both grown up a great deal since then. “This is my great chance to ...”
“Get yourself killed,” her brother snarled back. He softened his voice with an effort. “Penny, the base could be in very real danger.”
“So I gathered,” Penny said. She waved a hand at the grenades on his belt. “Is that why you’re walking around like Desperate Dan?”
“We could come under attack at any moment,” Percy snapped. “Penny, please get on the first shuttle.”
Penny shook her head. “I can't, Percy,” she said. “How would your superiors feel if you got on the first shuttle?”
“I get paid to fight,” Percy said. “You don’t.”
“I get paid to report on events of major importance,” Penny countered. She took a breath, glaring at her brother. “This is my one real chance to make a name and a reputation for myself. I am damned if I’m going back to reporting on things that won’t even make Page 10, unless it’s a very slow news day. That’s if I don’t get sacked for running from the story!”
“Would your bosses rather you were dead?” Percy asked, angrily. “Your body buried in a makeshift grave on this shithole of a planet?”
“I won’t leave,” Penny said. She crossed her arms under her breasts, then glared at her brother. “Are you going to try to drag me off the planet by force?”
“I should sedate you and put you on the list for medical evacuation,” Percy muttered, just loudly enough for her to hear. “Hamish would probably help, if I asked.”
Penny sighed, then reached out and touched his shoulder. “I can't back away, not now,” she said. She understood his feelings - it wasn't as if they had anyone else - but she wasn't his kid sister any longer. “I’ll be fine, really.”
“I hope,” Percy said. He reached for her holster and removed her pistol. “One clip, just one.”
“It’s enough,” Penny said.
“Draw more clips from the armoury before the rush starts,” Percy snapped. “And really, try to stay out of ...”
His wristcom bleeped. “Shit,” he said. “I have to go.”
“I’ll be fine, really,” Penny said, again. “Have a good one.”
“You’ve spent far too long with that damned Para,” Percy said. “Good luck, Penny.”
He kissed her forehead, then hurried off into the distance.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Sir,” Percy said, as he entered the office. Colonel Boone was seated behind his desk, with Ambassador Richardson and Grace Scott seated in front of him. “Reporting as ordered.”
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Colonel Boone said. “We have a mission for you.”
Percy nodded, but didn't relax. It was rare for marines to be briefed in front of civilians, which meant ... what? Was Boone showing off? It didn't seem likely. Or was he planning to raise concerns in a manner he couldn't be called on? Percy shrugged mentally, then waited. He’d find out soon enough.
“The Ambassador needs to be escorted to Ivan’s City,” Boone said. “You and your men will accompany her, providing a standard close-protection detail.”
“Unfortunately, this mission may turn dangerous,” the Ambassador said. She sounded as though she had bitten into a lemon. “We have to give the aliens bad news.”
Percy frowned, biting down the question he wanted to ask. He had no idea how Ivan would react, if only because he had no idea what the bad news actually was? He’d heard nothing, save for the order to go armed at all times and prepare to man the defences if necessary. Part of him resented being left in ignorance, but he knew that was always likely to be the case. A young officer wouldn't be told more than his superiors thought he should know.
“In the event of trouble, two armoured platoons, four helicopters and a dozen Bulldogs are ready to pull you out,” Boone said. “Keep the Ambassador safe, then hole up as long as possible; we’ll have help on the way.”
“Aye, sir,” Percy said. He couldn't help feeling cold. None of this sounded good. “We’ll do it.”
He paused, then asked the question anyway. “Sir ... what are we going to tell them?”
It was the Ambassador who answered. “The World Court has declared a general embargo on shipping weapons to the Vesy,” she said. “We won’t be able to send them any more weapons until the embargo is lifted.”
Percy gaped. “They’ll go mad,” he said, forgetting himself. “We made promises ...”
“As you were, Lieutenant,” Boone snapped.
“I know,” the Ambassador said. “But we have no manoeuvring room at all.”
“Sir,” Percy said, turning to Boone. “I think we should be delivering this message from a safe distance. They will not take it calmly.”
“The least we can do is go to them,” the Ambassador said. “They may desert us, but they’re not likely to pick a fight.”
Percy hoped she was right. Ivan knew more than any other Vesy about the power of human weaponry, but ... how long would Ivan stay in power after this betrayal? The Vesy had a quaint custom, one he rather admired, of insisting that their political leaders were responsible for their decisions. Ivan, who had gambled everything on his alliance with Fort Knight, was likely to lose everything after his failure. And then ...
Someone will come into power who doesn't like us, he thought. And that someone will go elsewhere for their weapons.
“It will be risky, sir,” he said. He would carry out the mission, if ordered to do so, but it was his duty to make his superior aware of the risks. “They may turn on us.”
“Yeah,” Boone said, drawing the word out. “If they do, we can have reinforcements there quickly. Very quickly.”
But will they be quick enough? Percy thought. It wasn't far to Ivan’s City, not from Fort Knight, but it would still take time. We could be overwhelmed within seconds.
“Yes, sir,” he said, out loud. At least he’d written a will ... not that he had much to give away, apart from his share of his father’s prize money and his banked salary. Penny would get it, as well as his other possessions. “I assume we have permission to use the Bulldogs to reach the city?”
“You do,” Boone said. “Have a good one, Lieutenant.”
Percy nodded. “Then I will brief my men,” he said. He made a brief calculation in his head, then doubled it. “We will be ready to leave in twenty minutes.”
“That will be fine,” the Ambassador said.
Boone looked irked. “I suppose it will be,” he said. “Watch your back.”
Percy saluted, then turned and marched out of the room. It wasn't hard to work out what had happened, in the moments before he’d arrived. Boone had clearly argued against the mission, only to be overruled by the Ambassador. Percy had to admit she had balls, at least metaphorically; he'd known marines who would have hesitated to walk into an alien city and announce that the solemn treaties of friendship and mutual respect were going to be cast aside on the whim of REMFs back home. Ivan might let them go ... or he might take his frustration out on them. Why not? By cutting him loose, the REMFs had doomed his political career ... and, perhaps, doomed his city too.
“Sir,” Peerce said, as he stepped into the ready room. The entire section was there, reading datapads or trying to catch a nap before the shit hit the fan. “What�
�s up?”
Percy wished, suddenly, that he’d had a more normal career. He hadn't wished to be put in an awkward position on Warspite, he hadn't wished to be left behind at Fort Knight and he hadn't wished for promotion. No, that wasn't entirely true; he’d wished for promotion, but not responsibility. He would have sold his soul to be a mere private again, to know nothing more than what his officers told him ...
“We’re going back to Ivan’s City,” he said, simply. “Prepare the Bulldogs.”
Peerce gave him a sharp look as the marines hurried to obey. “Sir?”
“They’re going to betray our allies,” Percy said, flatly. He felt numb, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. “And all hell is going to break loose.”
Twenty minutes later, they were on their way.
***
“You passed on the message?”
“Yes, General,” Rani said. “There’s no way to trace it back to us either. The freighter that brought the news was kind enough to broadcast it all over the system.”
Anjeet nodded, curtly. He'd known the World Court was moving towards an embargo - the messages he’d received from home had made that quite clear - but he hadn't expected them to move so quickly. The British should have vetoed it, he was sure; India would have done so, if her interests had been so badly exposed. But the British Government was a prisoner of its backbenchers ... and the idealistic fools squatting in the House of Commons. They only saw the downside of selling human weapons to the aliens, not the simple fact that the Vesy fought each other as often as humans and someone might as well advance their interests by providing the weapons.
He glanced at the live feed from the orbiting satellite. Seven British vehicles, all Bulldogs, heading down towards Ivan’s City. They’d be there in thirty minutes, he calculated, unless they ran into trouble. It wasn't too likely - every unit the Flowered Clan had dispatched had strict orders not to engage until they received the signal - but accidents happened. And sometimes they were even real accidents.
“The message is prepped, ready to go,” Rani added.
“Good,” Anjeet said. He swallowed, hard. “You may transmit it once the fighting begins.”
He shook his head, mentally forcing himself to relax. Whatever happened, they were committed. There was no way he could pull back now. India, his India, stood on the cusp between apotheosis and nemesis. It had seemed a good idea at the time, he knew, but now ... now everything was ready to go, he couldn't help feeling jittery. Too much could go badly wrong.
“And then we pray,” he added. If everything went according to plan ... but nothing ever did, he knew. “And hope we survive the coming months.”
***
Joelle had rapidly learned to dislike the Bulldogs. They weren't the ambassadorial cars she’d used on her foreign postings, where the interiors were comfortable even though the vehicles were almost as armoured as a heavy tank; they were cramped, smelly and far too warm for her peace of mind. Sweat dripped down her back as the vehicle lurched onwards, making it impossible for her to concentrate on the coming meeting. The aliens would take it badly, she knew; nothing she’d seen or heard had made it possible for her to believe otherwise. Hell, a human would take it badly.
But we don’t have a choice, she thought, even though she knew it was pointless. The Vesy would never understand if she tried to explain about the World Court, not when it was hundreds of light years away and well outside their frame of reference. They will think we’re lying for our own reasons.
The vehicle lurched violently, then shuddered to a halt. Joelle swallowed, trying hard not to be sick, then let out a sigh of relief as the hatch opened. They might be at the outskirts of an alien city, on an alien world, but the air smelled better than the Bulldog. Too many hot and sweaty men in close proximity, she guessed, as she allowed one of the marines to help her out of the vehicle. Outside, the alien city gleamed in the sunlight, brilliant flickering light dancing over its stone walls. She could see a dozen aliens standing on top, looking down at the humans. They all carried human-designed weapons, ready to use them against threats to their city.
“Ambassador,” a voice said. She looked up to see Lieutenant Schneider, holding out a set of body armour. “Might I advise you to wear this, please?”
Joelle frowned. She’d never liked body armour - it gave the wrong impression, she'd always thought - even when she was on Earth, where it was generally cooler. On Vesy, she suspected that wearing the armour for any length of time would leave her drowning in her own sweat. But the more she looked at the alien city, the more she felt that she was badly exposed. No doubt Schneider had waited for this moment to ask, just to make sure she felt the potential threat. She silently saluted him, then pulled the armour on over her shorts and shirt. It felt as hot and uncomfortable as she’d expected.
“Well,” she said, once she’d buckled the armour into place. “Shall we go?”
Schneider looked nervous, but led her towards the gates. As before, the streets were lined with aliens, some staring with unconcealed interest, other watching dispassionately, as if they were merely standing there because they’d been told to stand there. Joelle couldn't help a flicker of disappointment. She’d been in countries where the locals had been gathered up and told to cheer loudly - and threatened with beatings or worse if they refused to comply - but she’d hoped it was a purely human shame. The idea that the Vesy, on some level, were no different from humanity stung.
The marines fell in around her as they walked in eerie silence towards the Palace. Joelle had the sense they were running a gauntlet, even though no one was hurling blows or firing guns towards them. Dark beady eyes watched their every move; Joelle still found it hard to read alien motions, but it was all too clear that the marines were nervous. She could only hope that the aliens weren't canny enough to understand human body language.
But they might have secured a few of our textbooks, she thought. It had surprised her to discover just how many people on the base were studying for degrees of one kind or another, or just how many datapads and datachips had gone missing. They might even have studied our own works on how we think and act.
She scowled, inwardly, as they reached the Palace and were shown through the massive doors. In hindsight, the mission might have been doomed from the start. It would have been easy to cut a deal with the Russians to claim Vesy, then supervise access to the system ... but even so, the native culture had been badly contaminated. And the Russians would have demanded a high price for signing over their rights without demur. And not everyone would have accepted that the Russians had any rights. The Indians would certainly not have accepted their claims unless they were presented with a compelling reason to submit.
“Stay wary,” Schneider muttered. She wasn't sure if he was addressing her or his men, but it was clear they were in danger. The corridors were lined with alien guardsmen, watching them with dark eyes. “Don’t let your guard down for a second.”
Joelle felt her heartbeat suddenly speed up as they stepped into the throne room. Ivan stood there, waiting for them, flanked by a handful of other aliens. But, unlike last time, the rest of the room was empty. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Maybe Ivan didn't want any witnesses to what was about to happen.
She looked into the alien face and knew, with a certainty so strong it surprised her, that he already knew why they’d come.
The Indians must have told their allies about the betrayal, she thought, numbly. And those allies passed word to Ivan - or to their friends within his city.
“I greet you,” Ivan said, in English. “You demanded a meeting. Speak.”
Joelle felt Schneider tense beside her. The aliens were blunt, but they were rarely truly rude ...
She swallowed - her mouth was suddenly very dry - and then forced herself to speak.
“Our leaders back home have ruled that we may no longer give weapons to you,” she said. She’d tried to think of a way to sugar-coat the message, but she had
n't been able to think of one. “That none of us humans may give weapons to any of you until we have sorted out our affairs. That ...”
Ivan cut her off. “When you came, you assured us that you could speak for your people,” he said, flatly. A strange scent filled the air as he leaned forward. “We made agreements with you in good faith. We have endured your people wandering through our cities and asking foolish questions in good faith. We allied ourselves with you in good faith.”
Joelle felt almost as if she’d been slapped. “We don’t have a choice,” she said. On Earth, she would have found a way to sweeten the pill. Here ... she doubted there was any way to make the Vesy feel better. “Our people ...”
A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) Page 36