A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Tell him to report to me once he’s seen to the final evacuees,” John ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” Howard said. “The ship is crammed, sir. It may be some time.”

  John nodded, watching the Indian ships on the display. True to their word - and in a manner that showed they’d plotted the whole affair from the beginning - there had been no attacks on the evacuating shuttles. Indeed, the Flowered Clan had pulled back to make sure there were no incidents that could mar the evacuation. John couldn't help thinking of Hitler’s famous halt order at Dunkirk, another evacuation that had changed the course of human history. The enemy, for reasons of his own, had made the evacuation possible.

  Wars are not won by evacuations, he thought, remembering Churchill’s words. The true test of Britain’s strength, and determination to resist, had been about to begin. Now, he couldn't help feeling that history was repeating itself. We’re not going to let the Indians get away with this.

  “Good,” he said. The remainder of the tiny flotilla was already heading towards the tramline, unimpeded by the Indians or anyone else. “Take us out of orbit, standard cruising speed.”

  “Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.

  “Deploy stealth drones once we’re out of sensor range,” John added. If he’d had more ships, he would have left one in place to watch the Indians, but all three of his warships were crammed with refugees. “I want them programmed to monitor the system through passive sensors, drawing no attention to themselves.”

  “Aye, sir,” Tara said.

  John nodded, then looked towards the large red icon on the display. The Indian carrier was holding position, as if her crew cared nothing for the departing British. He knew, he thought, what they were thinking. They’d won. Vesy was theirs now, their alliance holding the planet’s surface firmly under control. And, no matter what they’d said in the diplomatic meetings, they would try to use it to maintain control of the tramlines. They would gain a controlling interest in the entire sector.

  But it isn’t going to happen that way, he thought, coldly. There was no way the final insult could be ignored, despite the risks of a general war. We’ll be back.

  Chapter Forty

  “Success, then,” Rani said. “Vesy is ours.”

  “Don’t count your chickens,” Anjeet said, as the last of the British ships entered the tramline and vanished. He’d been careful, so careful, to avoid a final slap in the face, but he knew the matter might not be over. “The diplomats will have to patch together something that will prevent war.”

  He sucked in his breath, sharply. “And the hostages?”

  “Safe and well,” Rani confirmed. “They will be handed over to us, as per the agreement.”

  Anjeet nodded. Allowing the aliens to butcher any humans they captured might have served as a rallying cry, if the British Government needed one. The hostages would be treated well, then returned to Britain as swiftly as possible. Unless, of course, they chose to stay ... he shook his head, firmly. No one, no matter how idealistic, would look at the Vesy in the same way after the attack on Fort Knight.

  “Very good,” he said. The Flowered Clan had the dominance they wanted over the surface - and India ruled the system beyond. They’d won what they wanted; now, he knew, all they had to do was keep it. “You do realise we’re going to be doubling down?”

  The Prime Minister had discussed it endlessly with him, when he’d been fully briefed on the whole operation. Vesy alone was important, but they couldn't take the risk of allowing the British to mount a counterattack. The fleet would be securing both the direct tramline to Vesy and Pegasus, trapping the British between a humiliating surrender and an uncertain war that might weaken the entire human race. No, it would weaken the entire human race ...

  “I know,” Rani said.

  “Good,” Anjeet said. He held up his hand, then make a throwing motion. “The die is quite firmly cast.”

  ***

  Penny had hoped, when she’d left the refugee camp, that she would never have to endure such a place ever again. After a week in alien captivity, kept tied and chained almost constantly, she would have been quite happy to return to the refugee camp. The food had been appalling and her body had ached so badly that, when they’d finally been handed over to the Indians, she had needed help to stand upright. Hell, she’d been relieved to see the Indians. At least they knew how to take care of human guests.

  “Your government will be informed we have you as soon as possible,” Rani Begum told her, after a doctor had checked her over and prescribed painkillers and a long nap. “I believe we will probably return you to them once we’ve made arrangements for a safe handover.”

  “Thank you,” Penny said, gratefully.

  The hell of it was that she was grateful. She had no idea what the Vesy would have done with her, eventually, but she doubted it would have been pleasant. Maybe they would have scarified her to their gods. The thought made her snicker, inwardly. If they happened to need a virgin sacrifice, and they might, they were going to be disappointed. She'd lost her virginity before the bombardment.

  “There is a second option,” Rani added. “You can stay here as an embedded reporter, under the standard international protocols.”

  Penny hesitated. She could remain with the Indians and her boss wouldn't object, but she’d had quite enough of Vesy. On the other hand, it was the story of a lifetime; she’d have a chance to write out her impressions of the attack on Fort Knight, then send them home to be published. But what if the Indians decided to edit her stories before sending them on? They were in a very good position to ignore the standard protocols and make her look like yet another hired shill.

  “I might,” she said. “Can I think about it?”

  “You have until we make an agreement to decide,” Rani said, simply. She made a show of looking around the hospital ward. “A room has been assigned to you, for the moment, but we will need an answer sooner rather than later.”

  “Thank you,” Penny said. “I ... do you know if my brother survived?”

  Rani made no pretence of being surprised by the question. “We believe he was one of the Royal Marines who escaped City One,” she said. “A number of those marines were injured, but none were killed as far as we know. He’s also not one of the dead bodies we pulled from the remains of Fort Knight.”

  Penny winced. She’d seen some of those people die.

  “The bodies will also be returned to your country, or to their nation of origin,” Rani added, softly. “For the moment, they will remain in storage here. The Vesy did nothing to harm them.”

  “Apart from attacking Fort Knight,” Penny said, bitterly.

  “A natural consequence of your government’s blithe disregard for their point of view,” Rani said. She rose. “The doctor will show you to your room, Miss Schneider. There’s a terminal there, if you wish to write a report, and a bed. I believe the doctor ordered rest, but ... work is sometimes a good antidote to sorrow.”

  Penny scowled at her. “Thank you,” she said, tartly. “I’ll do my best to rest.”

  ***

  “I couldn't save her,” Percy said. “Admiral, I couldn't save her.”

  “You followed orders,” Admiral Fitzwilliam said. They stood together in an observation blister on Nelson Base, staring down at the planet below. “I don’t think you could have stayed on Vesy.”

  “I should have,” Percy said.

  “You’re a Royal Marine,” Admiral Fitzwilliam pointed out, dryly. “If the concept of obeying orders bothers you, hand in your resignation and try to book passage to Vesy on a civilian ship. I dare say the Indians will be glad to scoop you up.”

  Percy scowled. It had taken a month for Warspite and her flotilla to make it home, but word had rocketed ahead of them. Earth had been arguing over the meaning of it all for three weeks, by the time they’d arrived; they’d been ordered to remain in orbit, denying all requests for interviews, until the Admiralty had had its say. The only good news in all the darkness ha
d been a note from the Indians that the hostages had been handed over to them and would be shipped home as soon as possible. Penny was alive, merely ...

  A prisoner, he thought. Did the Indians plan to stall? They could have shipped all of the hostages to Cromwell by now, if they’d wished.

  “There will be a great many hard questions for you in the future,” Admiral Fitzwilliam added, after waiting for Percy to say something. “The attack on Fort Knight ... well, certain elements within the Admiralty will want someone to blame. You’re the one who designed the fort ...”

  “I worked with what I had,” Percy said, stiffly.

  Admiral Fitzwilliam shrugged. “One thing you will learn, as you climb up the ranks, is that the people at the rear know very little of what is going on at the front, but they won’t hesitate to carp, criticize and claim that they would do better, if only they were in command,” he said, dryly. “A few of them may even, with the benefit of hindsight, have a point. Mostly, though, they won’t understand the limitations faced by those at the front. It wouldn't be the first time some elaborate plan was discarded in favour of something more suitable to the situation.”

  He met Percy’s eyes. “You may wind up with a black mark on your record,” he added, “although I will do my best to ensure you don’t. I doubt you will be given any independent commands in the foreseeable future, though. The problem with shit is that the smell tends to linger, even when the shit itself is wiped off.”

  “Yes, sir,” Percy said.

  Admiral Fitzwilliam slapped his back. “They’ll want to see you soon,” he warned. “Try and prepare yourself as best as you can. It won’t be a fun debriefing.”

  ***

  “It is to be war, then?”

  “It looks that way,” the First Space Lord said. “The latest report has Indian ships moving into both Pegasus and J-25. They pulled a fast one with that carrier, John. MI6 assumed she was going to New Delhi and they were right, but she didn't stop there.”

  “Yes, sir,” John said.

  The First Space Lord sighed. “The Prime Minister is playing his cards close to his chest, but there’s no way we can let the Indians get away with this,” he admitted. “They’re making a big song and dance about how their claims are reasonable ... and they might even have a point ... yet we cannot just concede anything, not to this. Everyone will try to get in on the act if the Great Powers just roll over when someone deliberately sets out to get our people killed.”

  “Good,” John said.

  The First Space Lord lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you understand that a war, even a localised war, could be disastrous for all of us,” he added. “We can’t fight here, because of the Solar Treaty; the worst we could do is take both of their major colonies and Vesy. At which point ... the war stalemates. We’d either have to occupy their worlds permanently or hand them back. Oh, they’ve created a situation where there are no good options.”

  “We could also ship their settlers elsewhere,” John pointed out.

  “The logistics would kill us,” the First Space Lord said. “And the media would crucify us in the courts of public opinion. The Indians have laid the groundwork very well.”

  He cursed, just loudly enough for John to hear, then looked up. “Admiral Fitzwilliam has been drawing up a plan to recover the lost systems and evict the Indians from Vesy,” he continued. “You and Warspite will have a role in the operation.”

  “Thank you, sir,” John said.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” the First Space Lord warned. “The media storm this time is bigger than the last one. And ... your judgement has been called into question. Yours, Ambassador Richardson’s, that damn aide of hers ... lots of people just trying to throw mud everywhere, just to confuse the issue.”

  He met John’s eyes. “But all that really matters is that we’re not going to let this pass,” he added, sharply. “We’re going to strike back.”

  To Be Concluded In

  A Small Colonial War

  Coming Soon!

  Appendix: Glossary of UK Terms and Slang

  [Author’s Note: I’ve tried to define every incident of specifically UK slang in this glossary, but I can’t promise to have spotted everything. If you spot something I’ve missed, please let me know and it will be included.]

  Beasting/Beasted - military slang for anything from a chewing out by one’s commander to outright corporal punishment or hazing. The latter two are now officially banned.

  Binned - SAS slang for a prospective recruit being kicked from the course, then returned to unit (RTU).

  Bootnecks - slang for Royal Marines. Loosely comparable to ‘Jarhead.’

  Fortnight - two weeks. (Hence the terrible pun, courtesy of the Goon Show, that Fort Knight cannot possibly last three weeks.)

  ‘Get stuck into’ - ‘start fighting.’

  ‘I should coco’ - ‘you’re damned right.’

  Levies - native troops. The Ghurkhas are the last remnants of native troops from British India.

  Lorries - trucks.

  Rumbled - discovered/spotted.

  Squaddies - slang for British soldiers.

  Stag - guard duty.

  TAB (tab/tabbing) - Tactical Advance to Battle.

  Walt - Poser, i.e. someone who claims to have served in the military and/or a very famous regiment. There’s a joke about 22 SAS being the largest regiment in the British Army - it must be, because of all the people who claim to have served in it.

  Wanker - Masturbator (jerk-off). Commonly used as an insult.

  Wanking - Masturbating.

  Coming Soon - The Oncoming Storm (Angel in the Whirlwind I)

  Cover Blurb

  In the year 2420, war looms between the galaxy’s two most powerful empires: the tyrannical Theocracy and the protectionist Commonwealth. Caught in the middle sits the occupied outpost system Cadiz, where young officer and aristocrat Katherine “Kat” Falcone finds herself prematurely promoted at the behest of her powerful father. Against her own wishes—Kat is sent to command the Commonwealth navy’s newest warship, Lightning.

  Determined to prove she has value beyond her family name, Kat struggles to earn her crew’s respect and find her footing as the youngest captain in naval history. She soon discovers the situation on Cadiz is even worse than anyone in power anticipated. War isn’t just a possibility—it is imminent. Yet the admiral in position to bolster defences refuses to prepare for a fight. Can Kat find a way to investigate the enemy, alert the Commonwealth, and whip an entire fleet into fighting shape before the Theocracy’s war machine destroys everything she holds dear?

  Free Sample

  Prologue

  Admiral Junayd passed through the security field and stepped into the conference room, careful to remove his cap as he bowed to the First Speaker and the Lord Cleric. They nodded in return, pressing their hands together in greeting, then motioned him to a chair at the round table. Junayd sat down and composed himself, despite the growing excitement running through his mind. The greatest military operation in the Theocracy’s history was about to begin. It was no time to allow his enthusiasm to overpower his common sense.

  He looked up at the giant painting behind the First Speaker. Hundreds of men and women, some bound, others in chains, were making their way towards a giant starship, sitting on the ground like a common aircraft. It was a lie, he knew, a fanciful depiction of a carefully-planned exodus from Earth, but the essential truth shone through. The Believers had been forced into exile, forced to leave God’s chosen world. Many of the exiles had lost the will to live in horror at what had been done to them.

  But others had understood. God would not have allowed His faithful to be removed from their homeworld without a reason. It would be safer for them to be elsewhere. And now Earth was scorched rubble, the great cities of Rome, Jerusalem and Mecca little more than blackened marks on a dead world. The religious leaders who had failed to realize their time was over were gone. And the United Nations, the force that had served as their enfo
rcer, was gone too. The True Faith could begin its expansion into the galaxy – and no infidels would stand in their way.

  He nodded in greeting as Inquisitor Samuilu stepped into the room, unable to avoid feeling a cold shiver running down his back as he met the man’s eyes. Everyone was secretly guilty of something the Inquisitors believed, and innocence was no defense if one caught their ever-roaming eye. Even a high-ranking admiral was not immune to suspicion. The Inquisitors spent most of their time rooting out heresy on the occupied worlds, but they had never relaxed their watch over the Believers.

  And a word from them would be enough to condemn anyone to the stocks – or the gallows.

  “Let us begin,” the First Speaker said.