[Ark Royal 04] - Warspite

by Christopher Nuttall

  He snorted. “I would hate to sit down if I had a laser pistol crammed up my arse,” he added, snidely. “It would be a very embarrassing way to go.”

  His other escort blinked in surprise. “You mean ... naval crewmen don’t lose their clothes on a regular basis?”

  “No,” John said, firmly. He tried to imagine his former commander’s reaction to crewmen running through the ship, stark naked, then decided it would be safer to charge a terrorist encampment alone, without even a single pistol. “Nor do they have sex with everyone who shows the slightest bit of interest. Jackie Spring was created by someone who not only never served in the Royal Navy, but purposefully didn't learn a thing while they were writing porn with a bare hint of a plot.”

  “Oh,” the escort said.

  John straightened his uniform. “Now we have discovered that I have no weapons, and that Jackie Spring isn't actually real,” he said, “take me to your leader.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  John had had no time to skim through the CDC’s files, so he had no idea who was facing him when he was shown into the Governor’s office. One man, sitting behind the desk, looked to be in his late twenties, while another looked to be in his early forties. The former looked torn between determination and fear; the latter looked to have given up on all hope. Behind them, a handful of armed guards watched, equally torn between fighting and giving up.

  Not hardened terrorists, then, John thought, in relief. It was impossible to negotiate with someone who had a Cause. Just desperate men.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” he said. “I’m Captain Naiser.”

  “Thank you for coming,” the younger man said. His voice was a strange mixture of anticipation and fear. “At last someone is taking us seriously.”

  “You didn't give us much choice,” John said. He made a show of looking around. “Are you going to give me a chair, or do I have to stand here like a boy facing the headmaster?”

  The older man nodded, then motioned to one of the guards. He found a chair, then placed it in front of the desk. John sat down, then rested his hands on his knees and looked up. It was much easier to talk when he didn't have to stand to attention at the same time.

  “So,” he said, before either of the men could say a word. “What do you want?”

  The younger man blinked. “What do you mean, what do we want?”

  “You took Government House and seized hostages,” John said, dryly. It was growing increasingly clear that nothing had been planned in advance. “I assume you didn't do it for shits and giggles, did you? What do you want?”

  There was a long pause. “Several things,” the older man said. “First, we want our debts cancelled. We didn't choose where the farms were built and it isn't fair that we should be plunged back into debt because of that poor choice.”

  “You did take out the debts with the intention of repaying them,” John pointed out.

  “Most of us were on the verge of repaying the debts before the flood,” the older man said. “But if we have to start again, we won’t be able to finish before we run out of time. Furthermore, we all invested heavily in equipment for our farms. Much of that has been lost or seriously damaged by the flood.”

  He had a point, John knew. And he wasn't unsympathetic to the farmers.

  “I’ll take that under consideration,” he said. “Next?”

  “We want the Deputy Governor gone,” the younger man said. “This” - he waved a hand to indicate their surroundings - “wouldn't have happened without him.”

  “Probably not,” John agreed. “You might have to put up with him until a ship arrives to claim him, though.”

  “Then at least he should be stripped of power,” the older man said.

  “Again, I will take that under consideration,” John said. “Next?”

  “Our wives,” the younger man said. “We want them back.”

  John sighed. “I believe the ship left Earth prior to our departure,” he said. “We do intend to search for them, once this crisis is resolved.”

  “The CDC is keeping them from us,” the younger man insisted.

  “I highly doubt it,” John said, somehow keeping the sneer out of his voice. “They would have to be insane to even try. If the ship was reported lost in space, they’d have to pay compensation ... and if they were caught trying to hide the women, they’d be torn apart in the streets. The Government wouldn't let them get away with it, not now.”

  He met the older man’s eyes. “We will search,” he promised. It was probably better not to discuss the odds of finding the missing ship, not now. “Next?”

  “Full amnesty for everyone involved in this ... protest,” the older man said. “Things got out of hand, Captain; we understand that. But we insist on full amnesty before we stand down.”

  “And political freedom,” the younger man added. “There are to be no attempts to break us up, disarm us or otherwise put the colony into lockdown.”

  That, John knew, wasn't possible. It would require hundreds of colonial marshals to keep the colony under tight control - and they simply wouldn't be provided. The CDC would have to offer enlistment bounties well above the norm just to raise a few dozen marshals, with shipping to Cromwell being what it was. It was quite possible the beancounters would refuse to pay, choosing instead to come to terms with the colonists.

  But they might well try to interfere with the colony in other ways. Weapons had to be shipped from Earth, after all, while there was only a small ammunition plant on the planet’s surface. There were plenty of ways to impede the colonials from stocking up on weapons without doing anything overt. Hell, it was hard enough getting export licences for anything heavier than a hunting rifle, even in the best of circumstances.

  “I see,” he said. “Are those all of your demands?”

  “Yes, Captain,” the older man said. “Can you grant them?”

  John smiled. “The Deputy Governor declared martial law,” he said. “I have wide authority to handle the crisis as I see fit.”

  He paused. “There’s also the very real prospect of you being able to sue the CDC,” he added, carefully. “It’s quite clear that the local survey work was botched. We inspected the great lakes to the south and ... well, the flood was an accident waiting to happen.”

  The older man snorted. “The CDC has money, lawyers and political connections,” he said, darkly. “How could we file a lawsuit against them? We can't even get back to Earth!”

  John smiled. “First, you could send the papers back with us, or another freighter,” he said, flatly. “You would not need to rely on one of their ships. Second, the government is trying to get as many people away from Earth as it can. I don't think there would be any great enthusiasm for allowing the CDC to publically screw the first wave of colonists. And yes, that is what they’d be trying to do, if they fought.”

  He looked from one to the other, trying to gauge their thoughts. The older man was looking for a way out; the younger man, more stubborn, wanted to fight. He didn't trust John, or the Governor, or the CDC. And, John had to admit, it wasn't an unreasonable attitude.

  “This is what I propose,” John said, carefully putting the pieces together in his mind. “Your debts will be cancelled as compensation for the botched survey work. You will have first call on new farmland, but you will have to take out new loans if you want to purchase newer pieces of equipment from Earth. The CDC will not, I suspect, send them to you for free, even if you do have a valid claim.”

  The younger man frowned. “Then why should we take the deal?”

  “Because the CDC would try to fight it through the courts,” John said. “It might be years before the matter was resolved, with no guarantee it would be resolved in your favour.”

  “But you just said the government would not be happy with the CDC,” the younger man objected. “Or were you lying to us?”

  “The government would certainly bring pressure to bear against the CDC,” John said. “But their pressure might not be ef
fective. This way, both sides get to cut their losses and trade claim for claim. More to the point, you could take out new loans at once and have equipment shipped to you.”

  “I see your point,” the older man said.

  “Good,” John said. “Second, as I said, we will search for the missing freighter. I can’t promise anything, but we will definitely look.”

  “Aye, right,” the younger man said.

  John ignored him. “The issue of amnesty is likely to be a problem,” he warned. “I do understand your situation, but you did step well over the line. I would therefore propose that each of you involved in this ... protest ... do a day’s worth of community service every month for the next two years.”

  “Outrageous,” the younger man thundered.

  “It's more than generous,” John said, coolly. “These are not the days of social decay, young man. Political protest is one thing, but committing crimes in the name of protest doesn't give you a free pass. On Earth, you would be looking at two to three years in a work gang, with only one day of rest a week. Like it or not, you took aim at the very foundations of society when you launched your protest. There has to be some form of punishment.”

  “And if we hadn't,” the younger man snapped, “would we have attracted your attention?”

  Probably not, John thought. But now you have it, I have to think of a way to resolve this crisis without violence.

  “One question,” the older man said. “Do you have the authority to grant all this?”

  “Yes,” John said, flatly.

  The older man held up a hand before his companion could say a word. “We would like to discuss this in private,” he said. “If you would wait in the next room ...”

  John rose, then allowed his escorts to take him into the next room. It was a barren storage compartment, completely empty. He leaned against the wall and waited, knowing that matters were now out of his hands. If the older man convinced the younger to give in, the crisis could be resolved peacefully ... but if not, there would be no choice but to use deadly force. And that would leave a number of people dead in its wake. It was quite possible that John might be among the dead by the end of the day.

  You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, he told himself, firmly. And you knew you had very little choice.

  ***

  Hamish urged the rest of the guards out of the office, leaving him and Brian alone. “We need to take the offer,” he said, once the door had slammed shut. “We’re not going to get a better one.”

  “But ... they might cheat us,” Brian whined. He didn't sound willing to compromise. “Or stick a knife in our backs.”

  “Yes, they might,” Hamish agreed. The problem with any agreement, as far as he could see, was that the colonists had no way to enforce it. He could follow the Captain’s logic - the CDC would want the problem to go away as quickly as possible - but, at the same time, he knew they were giving up too many of their bargaining chips. “However, the only other option is to fight.”

  “We have weapons,” Brian said. He tapped the rifle slung over his shoulder meaningfully. “We can fight.”

  Hamish sucked in his breath. “Brian, listen to me,” he said. “We’re trapped in this dumpster, with only a handful of entrances and exits. The Royal Marines can take us by force, if they want, or simply drop a KEW on our heads. There isn't much point in preserving the remains of the city, is there? Half of the buildings around us will have to be knocked down anyway in the very near future.”

  “They’d kill people,” Brian protested. “British citizens. They wouldn't do that!”

  “They could also evacuate the city under cover of darkness,” Hamish said. He glanced at his watch, meaningfully. “It’s night now, Brian, and we don’t have any night-vision gear. They could be moving half the population now and we wouldn’t know a thing about it. Tomorrow ... perhaps the last thing we’ll hear is the sound of a KEW falling through the atmosphere before it blows Government House into a crater. There is no way out.”

  “We could sneak out under cover of darkness,” Brian said.

  “The Marines do have night-vision gear,” Hamish reminded him. He’d heard that the Marines had continued recovery work, even in the dead of night. “They’d see us crawling out and open fire. There’s no way to escape, save coming to what terms we can.”

  He softened his voice, trying to reach the younger man. “We can't hope for better terms,” he added. “If they break their word, then we can consider taking steps. Until then, perhaps we should be grateful it has worked out as well as it has.”

  Brian nodded, reluctantly. “Very well,” he said. “But what can we do for community service?”

  Hamish shrugged. “Dig ditches, perhaps,” he said. The colony wasn't old enough to evolve a monetary economy. Tasks like barn-raising were shared among the men, who would assist their fellows in exchange for assistance for themselves. “It would be a great deal worse on Earth.”

  “I know,” Brian said. “The Troubles saw to that, didn't they?”

  The Troubles were a sore spot, Hamish knew. Academics and historians were ambient about the Troubles - and about how they’d ended. Was the heavy repression, a return to older values, justified? Or had it merely been the first step towards a home-grown tyranny that would have matched Hitler, Stalin or Perrine? But, whatever else the government of the day had done, they’d restored law and order to British streets.

  But it came with a price, he thought. Political protest became much more restrained. And so did freedom of thought.

  “Then we concede,” Hamish said. “We’ll speak to the others, then talk to the Captain. And end this before something goes badly wrong.”

  Brian snorted. “You mean it hasn’t already?”

  ***

  They’d taken his wristcom, but John had always been skilled at tracking the passage of time without one. It was nearly an hour before they opened the door and invited him out of the tiny room, then into the Governor’s office. This time, the guards had been dismissed; he was facing only the two leaders. John nodded to them both, then sat down without waiting to ask for permission. His legs were cramping uncomfortably.

  “We have decided to accept your terms,” the older man said. “If you will tell your Marines to fall back, we will evacuate the dumpster and let you have the hostages.”

  “Thank you,” John said, briskly. “I will ensure the Governor signs off on the deal.”

  “The Deputy Governor will be a pain in the arse about it,” the younger man muttered, sullenly. “He won’t sign anything.”

  “Yes, he will,” John said. The colony was still under martial law. He could take the Deputy Governor off-world, if necessary. “I’ll see to it.”

  “Right,” the younger man said. He lowered his voice. “Is it really true?”

  John frowned. “Is what true?”

  “The war,” the younger man said. He sounded as if he was afraid of being laughed at, as if he thought he was talking nonsense. “Was there really a war against an alien race?”

  “Yes,” John said. “I fought in it. My ... my lover died fighting the enemy. Earth itself was bombarded and millions of people died. The universe changed forever.”

  “I didn't believe it,” the younger man said. He shook his head in disbelief. “It still seems impossible to grasp.”

  “I can show you records,” John said. “Everything from Vera Cruz and the Battle of Earth to the final battle at New Russia and the death of Ark Royal. Or reports on the Tadpoles and their biology, if you wish. I dare say you might even meet a Tadpole one day.”

  “And so our wives were held back,” the older man said, sadly. “When do you plan to go in search of them?”

  “Tomorrow,” John said. “I’ll get my crew back to the ship, then leave the system for Troyon, Spire and Boston. The Yanks will certainly be able to tell us if the transport ship passed through their system.”

  “They might have seized the ship,” the younger man muttered.


  “I doubt it,” John said. He couldn't imagine the Americans bothering, not when there wouldn't have been any cause. Hell, the freighter would merely have slipped through their system without docking at the orbital station. “It would be an act of war.”

  He stood. “Bring in the hostages, then have your men ready to march out,” he ordered. “And have my wristcom returned. I’ll need to inform the Marines to expect them.”

  The two men exchanged glances, then hurried to do as he said. John inspected the hostages as they were brought into the room, looking for evidence of serious injuries or assault. The colonial marshals had some nasty bruises, but the remainder looked unharmed, at least physically. John knew they would have problems, in the future, coming to terms with the experience. It had turned their world upside down.