“Tell Gina and Canella I love them too,” he added. Gina had been their babysitter, to all intents and purposes, even though Percy and Penny had both been in their teens. It still galled him to remember what immature little bastards they’d been before the floods. “And give my regards to Martin. And everyone else.”
He paused, then clicked off the recording and transferred it into the secure datacore. If something happened to him, and it might, the recording would be added to the collection of messages he had recorded for his sister. He wasn’t sure if she would like to have them, after hearing her brother had died, but he knew she would hate him making the choice for her. Their father, after all, hadn’t sent many messages home after Operation Nelson. Or, perhaps, they’d been preserved in secure storage until they were declassified. No one he’d asked had been willing to tell him.
“Corporal,” Peerce said, as Percy stepped out of the recording compartment. “Can’t sleep?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Percy said. He glanced at his watch; five hours until departure. “I couldn’t sleep a wink, so I recorded a message instead.”
“Not a bad thought,” Peerce said. “But I advise you not to be caught by the Lieutenant. You need to be well-rested for when the shit hits the fan.”
Percy nodded. They’d gone over the plan several times, but they knew so little for certain that they might well wind up having to improvise halfway through. It was good, in a way - the British military had developed a whole culture based on muddling through - yet he knew from exercises that muddling through could only take you so far, if one lacked the resources one needed. And, if the Russians had been careful, it was quite likely the shuttles would be spotted as they dropped into the planet’s atmosphere. Things would definitely get hairy at that point.
But they won’t be expecting anything more dangerous than a hot-air balloon, he thought, coldly. Why would they bother to set up a radar station at their base? It would only draw attention if someone surveyed the system.
Because they know they couldn’t escape detection in any case, if someone surveyed the system, his own thoughts answered him. This world has an intelligent alien race. That’s going to bring the sociologists running from all over the human sphere. And the Tadpoles would probably want to examine the Vesy too.
“You’re awake too, Sergeant,” he said, instead. He kept his voice as innocent as possible. “Can’t you sleep?”
Peerce gave him a warning look. “Someone has to keep an eye on you lot,” he growled, darkly. “And besides, I went four days without sleep on Alien-1.”
“Doped up on something at the time,” Percy said. “Why didn’t you get any rest?”
“We were scouting for potential threats,” Peerce said. “The Rhino - the American CO - wanted to verify the region was clear. One thing led to another and we ended up caught in the midst of their counteroffensive. It was not a pleasant time.”
“It wouldn’t have been,” Percy agreed. He’d seen videos from Alien-1. The Tadpoles had been cumbersome on the land - they preferred the water, except when they needed to build factories on the surface - but they’d made up for it by throwing a vast amount of firepower at the human invaders. By the time Admiral Smith had returned to the planet, the humans had been in serious danger of being wiped out. “Is that where you got your medals?”
“Most of them,” Peerce said. “The Yanks gave me a Purple Heart, as I forgot to duck when the aliens were hurling fire at us.”
He shrugged, then blinked as the hatch opened. Percy straightened to attention as he saw the Captain, peering into Marine Country, and snapped a sharp salute. The Captain returned it, a moment later.
“Captain,” Percy said. “Is there something we can do for you?”
“No, thank you,” the Captain said. “I’m just touring the ship.”
He nodded to both of them, then stepped back through the hatch.
“That’s rarely a good sign,” Peerce said, when the hatch had closed. “The Captain touring his ship before a battle.”
Percy shrugged. “Perhaps he can’t sleep too.”
“Get some rest,” Peerce suggested, firmly. “Both you and he need it.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Percy said.
***
John had explored Warspite thoroughly after taking command, learning every nook and cranny of his ship. She was a remarkable design in many ways, he considered, even if the Royal Navy considered her a stopgap measure. There wouldn't be many like her, he’d been told ... but even so, she’d done the Royal Navy proud. Now, though, she would face her harshest test.
He walked from deck to deck, inspecting the departments as he moved. The brig was still secure, the prisoners held firmly in their cells. Further down, the hold was locked and guarded by a pair of armed spacers; John made a mental note to ensure the prisoners were cuffed and shackled before the shit hit the fan. The last thing he needed was desperate prisoners loose on his ship when she was fighting for her life. He stepped into the tactical section and reviewed their work, then muttered a few words of praise. But there were too many unknowns for him to take their work for granted. The Russians might have a few surprises up their sleeves.
“Captain,” Johnston said, when he stepped into Main Engineering. “Touring the ship?”
“Yes,” John said, shortly. It was traditional for a commanding officer to tour his ship before a battle. Admiral Smith had done it, after all, and that made it tradition. “I trust Main Engineering is ready for a scrap?”
“As ready as we will ever be, sir,” Johnston said. “I think we worked all the bugs out now.”
“Good,” John said. “And Commander Watson?”
“Still in her cabin, working hard,” Johnston said.
John smiled at the note of wistfulness in his voice. “You can court her now, you know.”
Johnston flushed. “Sir!”
“Better wait till we get home,” John said, after a moment. “Tomorrow ... we will have something to celebrate.”
“We will, sir,” Johnston said. “And thank you.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Captain,” Richards said. “The Marines are ready to depart.”
John nodded. The Russian starships hadn't deployed any satellite network, knowing it would be a dead giveaway to any human ship that happened to stumble on the system. It wasn't an unwise precaution, but it did mean that their surveillance of the planet’s surface was seriously limited. There were gaps in their coverage the Marines could exploit.
“Inform Major Hadfield he may depart on schedule,” he said. “We will hold position until the Marines are on the ground.”
He sucked in his breath as the two shuttles separated themselves from Warspite. Timing was everything ... but if the Russians picked up a sniff of the shuttles as they dropped into the planet’s atmosphere, the plan would have to be scrapped at once. Warspite would have to engage both Russian ships, in orbit, knowing that one or both of them could rain KEWs on the planet’s surface or simply alert their fellows before they were taken out. He hated taking so many chances, not with a plan where everything had to go right for it to work perfectly, but he hadn't been able to come up with an alternative. All he could do now was watch, wait and play his cards as best as he could.
“Captain,” Howard said. “The shuttles have slipped into stealth. They’re very good; I know where they are and yet I can barely see them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Howard,” John said dryly. “And will that hold up when they enter the planet’s atmosphere?”
“It would depend, sir,” Howard said. “The Russians have no reason to watch closely for incoming shuttles.”
But if they’re feeling paranoid, John thought, they might have set up a passive sensor net on the ground.
He shook his head, then forced himself to relax. All he could do was wait. And pray.
***
Percy watched though the shuttle’s sensors as Vesy slowly came into view. She was an impressive sight, not unlike the Earth he’
d imagined before he’d looked at a few maps in school and realised the land didn't go on forever, after all. It was easy to imagine the Vesy building a global empire - Alexander the Great and the Romans had carved out vast empires on Earth with inferior technology - and then stagnating, not unlike Imperial China. But if what they’d been told was true, the Vesy had been divided up into smaller states before the Russians got involved.
I wonder how they maintain the balance of power, Percy thought. And how they replenish their ammunition.
The thought made him smile. He knew from experience that any major military power could march through the Middle East or Africa with impunity, at least as long as the ammunition held out. There had been a couple of near-disasters during the Age of Unrest when small outposts had almost run out of ammunition, under the pressure of constant attacks. The Russians would not have found it easy to replace the ammunition they wasted supporting their ally. But if they ran out, it wouldn't have been long before they were overwhelmed by their enemies. They had to have set up a small ammunition plant somewhere and started to churn out small rounds, if nothing else.
We keep most of our technology as primitive as possible to make it easy to repair, he thought, grimly. The Russians might well have done the same.
He looked back at the planet as the two enemy craft disappeared over the horizon. They shouldn't be able to see anything on the nearest side of the planet, which was slowly twisting into night. Only Vesper remained, a dead hulk in geostationary orbit over the enemy compound. Percy studied her through the shuttle’s passive sensors, seeing nothing that indicated the Russians might have turned her into an observation platform. By now, he reasoned, they had probably stripped all the supplies that were meant for Cromwell out of her hull and shipped them down to the surface. They needed them to help maintain their settlement.
And feed themselves, he added, mentally. This world must lack some trace elements the Russians need for their diet.
“We are about to enter the atmosphere,” the pilot said, softly. “Brace for turbulence; I say again, brace for turbulence.”
The shuttle rocked wildly a bare second later. Percy heard whoops from some of the Marines as the shuttle shuddered, then plummeted into the planet's atmosphere, leaving his stomach hundreds of miles above him. The entire hull seemed to creak - he told himself frantically it was an illusion - then shuddered again. He closed his eyes and concentrated on remaining calm; the shuttle spun violently, then dropped once again. It felt almost as if the pilot was ducking down, then holding them long enough for the passengers to relax, then dropping them down again. Behind him, he heard the sound of someone retching. One of the Marines had been sick.
There was a final shudder, then the shuttle levelled out. Percy opened his eyes, then glanced at the screen. The shuttle was flying over the ocean - the great lake, he supposed - and heading south, towards the shore. They’d been told there were no alien settlements near the Landing Zone, but he knew better than to take that for granted. The aliens might have set up smaller villages that would have escaped notice, somewhere by the shores of the lake.
“Landing in five minutes,” the pilot said.
“Grab your weapons and goggles,” Peerce snapped. The shuttle rocked from side to side, then steadied. “I want a perimeter established as soon as we’re on the ground.”
A final dull crash echoed through the shuttle, then nothing. The hatches flew open, allowing the first troops to hurl themselves out onto the alien world. Percy scooped up his rifle and followed them, wishing they'd chosen to make a parachute or orbital jump entry instead. But there would have been too much risk of being seen by the enemy. Warm air, smelling vaguely of pollen, slapped at his face as he plunged through the hatch. They had landed in a small clearing, he noted, as they took up position around the shuttle, ready to repel attack. It was surrounded by plant life that looked almost Earth-like, save for the weird-looking flowers. He couldn’t help a shiver as he looked at them.
“LZ is clear, sir,” Peerce said, addressing Hadfield. The Lieutenant had landed in the other shuttle, which had landed next to them. “No sign of contacts, either human or alien.”
“Good,” Hadfield said. He raised his voice. “Break out the netting, then get these shuttles concealed. We don’t have much time.”
Percy nodded briskly - salutes were forbidden in combat zones - then scrambled to obey. The shuttles would stick out like sore thumbs if they weren’t concealed by the time the Russian ships passed overhead. His section rapidly dug out the camouflage netting, then draped it over the shuttles and keyed it to match the surrounding rainforest. It was unlikely the Russians paid enough attention to the ground to notice any small discrepancies.
And if they’re paranoid enough to notice, his thoughts added, we’re dead anyway.
“1 Section, get unloading the shuttles,” Hadfield ordered. “2 Section, secure a line of advance.”
“Aye, sir,” Percy said.
He led his section towards the trees, then under them. The scent of pollen grew stronger as they stepped onwards; the ground seemed to twitch with strange, spider-like animals. He caught sight of a lizard-like creature the size of a small cat, which eyed him beadily before twitching and vanishing so quickly he had the impression it had teleported. There was no proper road, which meant it was unlikely they would be able to make speedy progress, but at least they could pick their way towards the Russian base.
“Excellent,” Hadfield said, when Percy reported back. “Finish unloading the supplies, then get suited up and ready to move.”
Percy nodded. The Marines hadn't worn their combat suits in the shuttle, if only to keep them from getting in the way if they had to bail out in a hurry. He wasn’t sure he approved of the decision, but it was Hadfield’s call to make. He joined 1 Section in unloading the remaining boxes from the shuttle, then donned his suit. It was lighter than some of the heavy combat armour he’d used during basic training, but it had a reassuring sense of invulnerability that made him feel better about stepping into the darkness. In many ways, it was an illusion, but he clung to it anyway.
Besides, he thought ruefully, heavy combat armour would only get in the way.
The Marines scooped up boxes, then started to walk towards the trees, leaving the empty shuttles behind. There simply wasn't the manpower to leave the pilots with the craft. A warning message blinked up in his HUD, noting that the Russian ships would be overhead in ten minutes. He sucked in his breath, then kept walking. If the Russians saw the shuttles, they would probably drop KEWs over the area and then send in ground troops to finish the job. It was their standard pattern, after all.
Moments passed. No hammer fell from high overhead.
“I don’t think they saw us,” Hastings muttered. “They would have attacked, wouldn't they?”
“Yes,” Hadfield answered. “Now, keep marching towards the enemy base. I want to get as close to them as possible before the sun rises.”
Percy glanced at his HUD as they continued to march, spreading out into small fire teams. Vesy had a twenty-six hour day - he smiled at the thought of thirteen o’clock - with a predicted daytime of seventeen hours. The Vesy themselves, lacking any form of electrical power, were unlikely to go out in the night, unless they were forced to by their superiors. It wasn't an uncommon pattern in primitive societies, he reminded himself. People rose with the sun and went to bed with the moon.
But they might have perfect night vision, he reminded himself. The Tadpoles could certainly see in the dark like cats. Their eyes, designed for the darkness below the waves, had no trouble on land, no matter how dark it was. We have to assume the worst.
The key to marching, he’d been told, was not to concentrate on how long the march was. Even an objectively short match - he’d started by running a mile and a half in less than eight minutes, when he’d gone to the mandatory insight day - could seem to take forever, if one remained focused on the distance. Instead, he just needed to concentrate on putting one foot in f
ront of another and keeping going, whatever happened. Lads he'd known who had wanted to join the SAS had been binned - sent back to their parent unit - for refusing to carry on, once they’d been told they had to do another eight miles ... after completing the first thirty.
“Halt,” Peerce called. “There's something up ahead.”
Percy froze, then reached for his weapon as the alien building came into view. It was built from wood - no, it was built from living wood, as if the woodcarver had started to carve from the tree while it was still growing. He couldn't help being reminded of the 2106 remake of Return of the Jedi, when the furry teddy bears had been replaced by half-naked tribesmen who lived in homes in the treetops. It had been a great success, but his mother had refused to let him watch it and he’d had to sneak in a viewing at a friend’s house. But he hadn't understood why she’d refused until he’d been old enough to start finding girls interesting.
“Tab west,” Hadfield muttered, as the Marines slowly fell back. Detection by the aliens could be very good or very bad. “Keep low and avoid contact, if possible.”
[Ark Royal 04] - Warspite Page 33