A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Shit,” Peerce said. “Incoming, sir.”

  Percy looked back. Waves of aliens had charged through the harem and were running towards them, weapons in hand. There were too many of them ...

  “Use the gas grenades,” he ordered. He’d brought them because the medics had speculated they would have a nasty effect on the aliens, but no one knew for sure. “Now!”

  Peerce nodded, then unhooked one of the grenades and threw it towards the aliens. It detonated, spewing coloured gas everywhere. Percy watched, then smiled as the aliens staggered backwards, the mob coming to a halt as more and more of its members began to retch. The grenades weren't pleasant for humans, not by any definition of the word, but for the aliens, with their powerful sense of smell, they had to be an absolute nightmare. Percy took a moment to watch, then motioned for the marines to follow him. They weren't out of the nightmare yet.

  His radio buzzed. “Percy? This is Hadfield.”

  “Captain,” Percy said. He unhooked a second gas grenade and threw it as they stepped through the door and into the open air. “You have no idea how pleased I am to hear from you.”

  “Us too,” Hadfield said. “We're inbound and armoured; coming down hard. All hell’s broken loose.”

  “Tell me about it,” Percy said. He watched the aliens retching, then cursed as he saw a new line of alien solders, well away from the gas. Two of them looked to be carrying primitive RPGs. “It isn't very pleasant here, either.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “The marines are jumping now,” Gillian said.

  John nodded. “Keep me informed,” he ordered. There was no point in trying to micromanage from orbit, even if Hadfield had been inclined to allow him to try. “Let me know when they’re ready for pickup.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gillian said.

  “Captain,” Tara said. “A number of freighters are leaving orbit!”

  John glanced at the display, then swore under his breath. Most of the ships breaking orbit and abandoning Vesy were civilian, but a couple belonged to various national merchant marines. He’d hoped to use them to transport refugees away from the surface, before they’d started to run. But even if he’d had the authority to stop them, he rather doubted they’d listen. With Fort Knight under attack and a giant Indian fleet in orbit, it looked as though their commanders had chosen not to run the risk of being caught in a war zone.

  “Damn,” he muttered. There was nothing else he could do. “Copy our records to them before they jump out through the tramline, just in case.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gillian said.

  ***

  Percy fought the urge to let out an unprofessional cry of delight as armoured marines plummeted from the skies, landing all around him and opening fire with plasma weapons on alien targets. The shuttles roared high overhead, launching missiles towards a handful of makeshift weapons emplacements, then turned and flew off to the south. He felt a hint of wistfulness at their departure, then pulled himself up and saluted as Hadfield landed in front of him.

  “Lieutenant,” Hadfield said. “Report!”

  “Four men injured, but no one dead,” Percy said. He glanced at Ambassador Richardson, still stumbling between two marines, and winced. “Ammunition frighteningly low. And one Ambassador in shock.”

  “Got it,” Hadfield said. “Follow us. We’ll cover you.”

  Percy nodded, then covered his eyes as the armoured marines opened fire again, spraying plasma bolts towards their targets. Most of the Vesy in view fled, trying to escape the hellish weapons; it was clear, he reasoned, that the Indians hadn't introduced them to those. It did make a certain kind of sense, he told himself. Plasma weapons could burn through armoured combat suits and the Indians might want to keep those in reserve.

  He took a moment to check the Ambassador and swore, inwardly. She was remaining upright, somehow, but she was shaking so badly that he knew she needed medical attention. No matter where she’d been, she’d never been in the midst of a war zone, let alone forced to hide behind armed guards as they fought their way out of the trap. Percy felt a stab of sympathy, then turned to follow Hadfield as the marines made their escape. The resistance slacked sharply as they moved towards the gates, as if the Vesy were prepared to just let them go. Percy didn't blame them. They had nothing that could do more than dent the armoured suits.

  They’ll pay a price for what they did here, he thought, as they inched down the empty streets, watching for traps. Hundreds of bodies lay everywhere, including some that looked to have been killed by alien weapons. Not all of Ivan’s faction had accepted their removal from power gracefully, he suspected. But with Ivan dead, who’s going to hold this city together?

  His headset buzzed. “Got a major troop movement crossing the border and coming towards the city,” a voice said. “They’re advancing at quite a clip too.”

  The joys of not being loaded down with more crap than a toilet cleaner, the irrelevant side of Percy’s mind noted. Alien soldiers had one advantage, at least, over their human counterparts; their logistics were considerably easier. They only carried weapons, ammunition and a small pack of food. In the long term, they would have to develop Roman-style logistics - an army would rapidly eat its unwilling hosts out of house and home - but for the moment it gave them a definite edge. How long until they’re at the city?

  He frowned as he saw the gates; abandoned, but sealed tightly shut. Hadfield barked orders and five armoured marines walked forward and pressed their weight against the stone. There was a long pause, then the gates fell outwards, smashing to the ground with a deafening sound. The aliens would find that intimidating, Percy hoped, as the marines advanced forward, weapons at the ready. He swore bitterly as he realised the Bulldogs were nothing more than burning wreckage, their crews either dead or taken prisoner. Ivan had to have been in on the ambush all along.

  “Check the Bulldogs,” Hadfield ordered. “How many men did you leave with them?”

  “Two each,” Percy said. It was standard procedure; he’d seen no reason to change it. Two men in each vehicle should have been more than enough to stand off any reasonable threat, or simply move away and outrun it. “They were drawn from the Para supporting units.”

  He gritted his teeth, then peered into the wreckage. The faint stench of burning flesh rose to his nostrils - he had to force himself not to be violently sick - but the bodies were completely gone, unsurprisingly. Modern antitank weapons - nothing less could have smashed the vehicles so effortlessly - punched through the hull, then detonated inside. The bodies would have been reduced to atoms. He checked the other vehicles, but found nothing. There was no way they could take their bodies back home.

  “There’s nothing to salvage, sir,” he reported. “Sergeant?”

  “I concur,” Peerce said. He sounded distant, as if he was replaying what had happened over and over again, looking for a way they could have changed things. Eight men were dead, eight men who’d served beside the marines. They’d deserved better than to die in a treacherous attack. “The Bulldogs are completely beyond repair.”

  “Then we leave them,” Hadfield said. He glanced back as the sound of shooting broke out again, back in the city. “The Flowered Clan isn't that far away.”

  “We could engage them,” Percy suggested. “They won’t have anything that could harm the suits ...”

  “We have orders to avoid engagement, if possible,” Hadfield said. He turned and led the way towards the fields. “Follow me.”

  The Ambassador groaned and slumped to the ground. Her escorts caught her before she could collapse completely, then exchanged glances with Percy. Percy sighed, stepped forward and hefted the Ambassador over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, then followed Hadfield. Behind him, a handful of armoured marines brought up the rear, watching for signs of attack.

  Poor girl, he thought, even though the ambassador was at least a decade older than him. She shouldn't have been caught in this position.

  He gritted his teeth as he fought
to pick up speed. Ivan had betrayed them and that hurt; he’d liked the alien and he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But Ivan had always been fixated on defending his people, no matter how much he liked his British allies. Once the British had abandoned him, he’d had no choice but to seek the best terms he could from the Flowered Clan. And if that had meant luring a British party into an ambush ...

  Maybe he got sloppy deliberately, he thought. The alien ambush hadn't been bad - it was clear Ivan had hoped to take hostages, rather than killing them all in the first few seconds - but it had failed. Maybe he wanted to give us a chance to escape.

  He shook his head, then glanced up as the shuttles roared overhead and then started to descend towards the fields. Percy checked around out of habit, but there were no aliens in view; he jogged towards the shuttles as soon as they landed, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the medics emerging from the craft. He carefully unslung the Ambassador, then placed her gently on the ground. One of the medics bent over her while the others attended to the wounded marines.

  “She’s in deep shock,” the medic said, pressing an injector to her neck. “She needs rest, really. Hopefully, she won’t turn into a zombie.”

  Percy shivered. He’d seen zombies in the refugee camps, men and women who had been so badly traumatised by the bombardment that they’d effectively checked out of life and just shuffled around like zombies. Most of them had died, unable to recognise that they needed to take steps to save their lives; others had wound up in rape camps or simply murdered by other refugees. There had been no way they could all be helped, then guided back to the mundane world. Resources had been very limited.

  “I’m sure she won’t,” he said. He didn't know the Ambassador very well, but he had to admit she had nerve. “You’ll give her some proper treatment, right?”

  “Of course,” the medic said.

  “Percy,” Hadfield said. “The wounded will go straight back to orbit. You and the rest of your men will accompany us back to Fort Knight.”

  “Aye, sir,” Percy said.

  “Reload on the shuttle,” Hadfield added. “You will need more ammunition.”

  ***

  “They made it out of the trap, General,” Lieutenant Ravi reported.

  Anjeet nodded. In truth, he’d been fairly sure the Vesy wouldn't be able to keep the British Ambassador and her guards as hostages, although it had been worth the gamble to see if they could. The real purpose of the exercise had been to separate the ambassador from Fort Knight and, in addition, to underline to the British that they could no longer count on their alien allies. It would only add strength to those among the British ranks urging an immediate withdrawal from the system.

  “Good for them,” he said. He'd always admired the Royal Marines, even though he’d known he’d meet them as enemies one day. “Keep a sharp eye on their progress, but take no steps to intervene without my direct order.”

  “Aye, sir,” Ravi said.

  “General,” Rani Begum said. “Did their ambassador survive?”

  “So it would seem,” Anjeet said. “Losing her would have been embarrassing, no?”

  Rani shrugged. “Yes,” she said. “I liked her enough not to want to see her dead.”

  Anjeet suspected she meant something entirely different. Rani was, after all, a woman in a society that was still largely male-dominated. She wouldn't have reached her post through sentimentality and warm sisterly feeling for other women. But there was a different concern, one that would be uppermost in her mind. Killing ambassadors would set a dangerous precedent - had set a dangerous precedent, back in the Age of Unrest. The gods alone knew how much blood had been spilled reiterating the lesson that, no matter the cause of one’s upset, ambassadors and embassies were untouchable. He smiled at the double meaning, which would only really make sense to a Hindu, then dismissed the thought. The Vesy weren’t human. No one truly expected them to play by human rules.

  “Keep encouraging the other freighters to leave, Ambassador,” he said, instead. “They need to understand this is our world now.”

  ***

  “Shit,” Peerce said, as Fort Knight came into view. “It's a wreck.”

  Percy nodded in agreement, feeling a bitter pang of frustration. He’d organised the construction of the original fort, then watched as it grew larger and larger, accommodating parties from all over the Human Sphere. Now, the north wall was a shattered ruin, most of the barracks were on fire and the alien community that had grown up beyond the walls was a torn mess. The wreckage of a helicopter, burning brightly on the ground, bore mute witness to the inadequacy of their defence planning. How long had it been, he asked himself, since all hell had broken loose? It felt like they’d been fighting for hours.

  Alarms sounded. The shuttle rocked violently from side to side; Percy cursed, grabbing hold of the railing and praying under his breath. If an antiaircraft missile struck the shuttle, they were doomed. He had no armour, no way to survive the fall even if the blast didn't kill him ...

  The shuttle rocked again, then plummeted towards the ground. Percy braced himself, an instant before the craft touched down with an impact hard enough to rattle him. He forced himself to his feet as the hatch opened, then followed the armoured marines out into the open air. The stench of burning flesh and wood greeted him as he lifted his rifle, his section forming up around him. Fort Knight was in so much confusion that he honestly had no idea where to begin.

  “Percy, take your section to the south and link up with the Paras guarding the prefabricated buildings,” Hadfield ordered. “Any Vesy within the walls are to be regarded as hostile; I say again, any Vesy within the walls are to be regarded as hostile.”

  Percy shuddered. How many Vesy had gone in and out of the base since it had opened for business? The NGOs, the religious factions ... they’d all invited the aliens into the base, showing them the wonders and glories of human civilisation. And the aliens had used that knowledge to precisely target their attack. How much of it, Percy asked himself bitterly, was his fault? If he’d taken a tougher line with the aliens, he wondered, would they have dared to attack Fort Knight?

  Of course things would have been different, he thought, sourly. They’d have attacked and wiped out the last human presence on their world before we received any further word from Earth.

  He gritted his teeth, then led the way through a gash in the walls and into Fort Knight. The barracks the aliens had built, the barracks that had housed the reporters - including Penny - were nothing more than piles of debris. He shuddered as he saw a body, half-trapped under pieces of falling wood, then cursed as he realised the man was far beyond salvation. The face, by some dark miracle, was untouched, but Percy didn't know him. He took one final look at the body, then pressed on, lifting his rifle as he heard the sound of shots ringing out ahead of him. Moments later, they came face-to-face with a pair of armed Vesy.

  Percy levelled his weapon and shot the first one through the chest; the second fell to Peerce’s shot, right through the head. He took a moment to inspect the bodies, then walked on, leaving the Vesy behind. There was no point in picking up the bodies now, not when they had a mission to do. He kept a sharp eye out for Penny as they rounded a corner and saw a set of burned bodies lying on the ground, but they were completely unrecognisable. DNA analysis would be the only way to identify them, after the bullets had stopped flying.

  He allowed himself a sigh of relief as the prefabricated buildings came into view, guarded by a number of Paras who’d hastily dug themselves foxholes and prepared for a long siege. Their positions were surrounded by a number of dead Vesy, who’d clearly tried to charge their enemies only to run into vastly superior firepower. Percy felt a glimmer of pride, mixed with sadness, then walked forward, careful to keep his hands in view. The Para in command stood up and waved back.

  “Lieutenant Schneider, reporting as ordered,” Percy said. There were only five Paras in the line, two badly wounded. “Where do you want us?”

  “W
e’re still holding this line,” the Para said. He sounded tired, but proud. “The CO thinks the attack is slacking off. What’s your ammo like?”

  “Got reloads in the shuttle,” Percy said. He keyed his radio. “Captain, we've linked up with the Paras.”

  “Remain there while we sweep the base,” Hadfield ordered, coolly. “We’ll link up with you afterwards.”

  Percy nodded, then dove into the foxhole as he heard the sound of incoming mortar fire. The aliens might have realised they weren't going to win, but that hadn't discouraged them from pressing the offensive anyway, even though it was pointless. Or perhaps it wasn't pointless, he thought; there weren't that many British troops on the planet, making every soldier killed or wounded at Fort Knight one the Flowered Clan wouldn't have to face later. The ground shook as the shells landed, then shook again as one of the shuttles launched a spread of missiles towards the mortar post. A hail of explosions billowed up in the jungle, silencing the gunners before they could launch another shell. Or so he hoped.