“Aye, sir,” Hastings said.
Percy echoed him a moment later, his eyes scanning the trees for signs of movement. How well would the Vesy show up in his NVGs? They were cold-blooded creatures, the Russians had said; it was quite possible they would be invisible, at least in the darkness. But they had motion detectors too ... he cursed, wishing they’d thought to ask the Russian doctor that question, as well as a dozen others. The Russians must have had some way to secure their compound against infiltration or they would have had a far harder time of it on the surface.
But they couldn't actually lose, Percy thought. They could keep calling in fire from orbit until the enemy were stamped into the mud.
He sighed, inwardly. Like all the Marines, he’d reviewed the testimony from the Russian doctor. If the Russians were serious about turning the Vesy into allies, they couldn't afford to hammer them too hard, could they? But the Vesy had a far smaller world, in some ways, than humanity. The Vesy the Russians hammered might believe in their existence, but what about the Vesy a few thousand miles from the Russian base? If there were humans who had refused to believe in the Tadpoles after Vera Cruz, why wouldn't there be Vesy who refused to believe in the humans?
“Contact - front!” Peerce hissed. “One Vesy; dead ahead of us.”
Percy looked up, just in time to see the alien jump back into the darkness with terrifying speed. He’d seen soldiers perform all kinds of remarkable feats, but he had the feeling the alien was faster than any of the Royal Marines ... or indeed anyone, save for an enhanced trooper. But it was impossible to be sure.
“Do not fire unless I give the order,” Hadfield said, as the Marines halted. “We don't need more enemies.”
“Sir,” Percy said, “they won’t know we’re not Russians.”
He shuddered. There had been times, during the Age of Unrest, when Chinese or Russian troops had been targeted by various factions who had mistaken them for British or Americans. And most of those factions lived in a world where telecommunications allowed anyone, no matter how isolated, to be aware of global politics and power shifts. The Vesy would be lucky if they knew of humans, let alone human factions. The thought of being attacked on suspicion of being Russian was horrifying. They would have to defend themselves, which would risk alerting the Russians to their presence.
And wouldn't that be ironic, he thought.
“Another contact,” Peerce said. “And another.”
Percy frowned as the alien stood in front of them, his head twitching from side to side in a remarkably bird-like manner. A chill ran down his spine as he took in the humanoid, yet very inhuman shape. The alien was tall, taller than the average human, with scaly green skin, dark and beady eyes and a flattened nose. He - Percy assumed he was a male - wore a loin cloth that covered his genitals, but little else. It was chillingly easy to realise, now, that he wasn't looking at a man in a suit. The proportions were all wrong.
The alien remained unmoving, save for his eyes. Percy had stood stag often enough to know that remaining completely still was difficult, at least for him. He would never stand guard in front of Buckingham Palace. And yet the alien seemed to make it look easy. Like lizards in the zoo, Percy realised slowly, the aliens had no involuntary movements. Only the head moved, allowing the alien to peer at them with both eyes.
Sneaking up on one of them won’t be easy, Percy thought. They have a far wider field of vision than us.
“There are more of them,” Hastings said, warningly. “They’re closing in from all sides.”
The alien took a step forward and held up its hands, palms extended outwards. Percy couldn't help noticing the claws, which could tear through human flesh like knives through butter, but he had to admit the alien wasn't making any hostile moves. Instead, the alien stood there long enough for the humans to see him, then opened his mouth, revealing very sharp and jagged teeth.
“Hello,” he said, in Russian.
“Corporal,” Hadfield said.
Percy nodded and took a step forward, then opened his helmet. It was sheer luck he spoke Russian; like all Royal Marines, he’d been encouraged to learn a foreign language during Basic Training and he’d chosen Russian. The incentives for mastering the tongue had seemed worthwhile, even when he’d found himself stumbling over the words. But then, it was easier than trying to learn to speak to the Tadpoles. No human could speak their language without a considerable amount of enhancement.
“Hello,” he said. He wished, suddenly, that he’d had more chance to review his lessons since graduating. For all of the higher-up’s interest in having soldiers speak Russian, he hadn't had much chance to practice. “I greet you.”
“You are not them,” the alien said, jerking a claw towards the Russian base. His voice was so thick Percy couldn't help flashing back to the times when his mother had told him not to talk with his mouth full. “You are trying to hide from them.”
“Yes,” Percy said, hoping desperately he hadn't just made a terrible mistake. “We are here to fight them.”
“We are hiding from the God-King,” the alien said. “The” - he made another gesture towards the Russians - “helped him to take our lands.”
“They did, breaking our laws,” Percy said.
“We will assist you,” the alien said.
Percy held up a hand, then stepped backwards to where Hadfield was waiting, standing next to Peerce. “These guys want to help,” he said. “I think they’re refugees, hoping for a chance to fight back.”
“Or it could be a trick,” Peerce said. “Did you consider that, Corporal?”
Percy hesitated. “Sergeant,” he said, “if they wanted to betray us, they could have done it by now. Or even attacked us themselves. I think we can work with them.”
“Then we shall,” Hadfield said. “I will inform the Captain. You start talking to our new friends and see if they can get us closer to the Russian base before dawn breaks.”
“Yes, sir,” Percy said.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“They’re talking to the aliens?”
“Yes, sir,” Forbes said. “The aliens speak Russian.”
John scowled, then tapped his terminal. “Lieutenant Hadfield, report,” he ordered. It was a breach of protocol to issue direct orders to the Marines on the ground, particularly when it ran into the dangers of micromanagement, but it had to be done. “What is the situation?”
“The aliens claim to have been driven from their lands by the God-King,” Hadfield said. “They’ve offered to assist us in reaching the Russian compound, then launching the attack.”
“I see,” John said. He hadn't seriously considered the prospect of enlisting alien allies. On one hand, they could be very helpful; on the other, they might be dangerously unpredictable. “Do you think they can follow orders?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Hadfield admitted. “We’re working on them now, but their Russian is limited and ours isn’t much better.”
“Then I leave the matter in your hands,” John said, cursing himself. It would look, at the inevitable inquiry, as if he’d passed the buck to Hadfield. “Do you believe you can make it to the compound before daytime or do you want to hide for a day and attack at night?”
“We haven't been spotted, sir,” Hadfield said. “I believe we would be better waiting, then launching the attack the following evening. It would give us more time to work with the aliens.”
“Then we will delay the offensive,” John said. “But we will have to head to the tramline in seventeen hours, if only to start our side of the operation.”
“Understood, sir,” Hadfield said. “We’ll keep in touch.”
John nodded as the link broke, then forced himself to relax. There was nothing else to do, but - once again - wait.
***
Percy couldn’t help being charmed by the alien village, hidden under the canopy. It was remarkable, a blending of clearly artificial structures with hollowed-out trees and underground caves. The aliens were everywhere, staring
at the humans; their faces, utterly unreadable, remaining inhumanly still. Percy had driven through towns and villages where the womenfolk had been hastily shoved back into their homes, while the men hurled curses or even rocks towards the intruders and their vehicles. In some ways, the alien village was definitely an improvement.
But it’s creepy too, he thought. It was the sort of place he would have loved, as a kid - he and Penny had always wanted a treehouse - but it was also crammed with aliens. And who knows what they’re really thinking?
He sighed as he looked at the aliens, moving from place to place with an eerie loping gait. It was impossible to tell the males from the females; they all wore loincloths, all covering the same region. They might all be males, he thought, but if so ... where were the females? But then, the orbital surveillance hadn't been enough to pick out the males from the females either. The aliens didn't seem to have breasts, let alone differences in build.
“They call me Ivan,” the alien said. He was some kind of leader, Percy had been able to discover, although he wasn't sure just what sort of leader. His Russian wasn't good enough to sort out the difference between kings, priests and elected rulers. “They wanted me to serve as a slave, talking to us” - he spoke a word Percy suspected was their own name for themselves - “and passing on their orders. I deserted when I had a chance.”
“Good for you,” Percy said. The alien’s hands twitched. “How did you enter their service?”
Ivan made a gesture that looked remarkably like a human shrug. “I was ruler of a city,” he said, drolly. “The God-King overwhelmed the walls and took the city, bathing the streets in the blood of my people. I was spared and sold as a slave. They saw I had a gift for languages and taught me their tongue. Once I had learned all I could, I left them.”
Percy looked up at the village. “Are all these your people?”
“No,” the alien said. He spoke several words Percy didn't recognise. “They were ... fleeing from the God-King, hiding in the sacred forest. I made myself their leader.”
Percy wondered, absently, just how much of that was true. Ivan certainly seemed to be the undisputed leader of the resistance, but there was no way to be sure. He had been royalty ... but would that really matter if his state was gone? Prince Henry was an impressive person, Percy had to admit, yet he wouldn't honour Princess Elizabeth if she lost her throne, her rank and her country. She’d never struck him as anything other than a bird in a gilded cage.
But it didn't matter, not right now. All that mattered was planning the attack on the Russians.
“Right,” he said. “We need to start working on details.”
Ivan, he discovered after an hour of talking backwards and forwards, was very far from stupid. Unlike some of the God-King’s more slavish followers, he didn't seem to believe that the Russians - or the British - were supernatural beings. He might not understand their technology, but he didn't mistake it for magic. He'd already learned more about the Russians and their weaknesses than anyone had a right to expect.
But that shouldn't be a surprise, Percy reminded himself. He'd studied the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq that marked the start of the Age of Unrest. They’d both been fought against seemingly primitive people, but those people had been far from stupid and learned how to adapt themselves to take on the advanced militaries occupying their countries. Once they got over the shock and awe, the God-King’s enemies probably started doing the same.
“So there are three hundred Russians on the ground, not counting the women and children,” Percy said, after explaining how to tell the difference between male and female humans. “Some of them are with the God-King at all times, assisting him; others stay at their complex, defending it from all intrusion?”
“Correct,” Ivan said. “And you want them all alive?”
“If possible,” Percy said. He shuddered. It was hard to blame the Vesy for wanting to butcher the Russians, but they would slaughter the kidnapped women and children too. “They are innocent victims.”
“We will try,” Ivan said, doubtfully. “But many of our fighters want revenge.”
“Yeah,” Percy said. The prospect of losing control was one of the reasons modern-day militaries preferred not to use local levies. “Tell them that they will be rewarded for every live captive, male or female, they turn over to us.”
He smiled, although he still felt nervous. It would be so much easier to simply handle the mission themselves, but he knew that wasn't an option. Four hundred Russians ... and a number of women who might have committed themselves completely to their kidnappers, once Stockholm Syndrome had a chance to set in. The Marines would be badly outnumbered.
But at least we have much to use as rewards, he thought. The God-King had bought allegiance by offering modern knives, flashlights and other items of human technology; items that were cheap and disposable for humanity, but priceless for the Vesy. Let's just hope they don't stop fighting to take captives.
He sighed. The Vesy hadn't had a tradition of total war until the God-King allied himself with the Russians. Normally, according to Ivan, two city-states would contest, then the weaker of the two would submit to the stronger, while still retaining some internal autonomy - and the prospect of a successful revolt, sometime in the future. It wasn't unlike the ancient Athenian or Spartan Empires, Peerce had pointed out, when Percy had shared what he’d discovered. City-states in uneasy alliances, sometimes switching sides at the drop of a hat.
It seemed small, Percy knew. And yet Athens and Sparta had fought for decades before Sparta finally won the war.
And even that didn't last, he thought. The Macedonians and Alexander the Great - then Rome - saw to that.
But the God-King had upset everything, Ivan had said. The first armies to confront him had marched out, expecting ritualistic combat, only to be brutally slaughtered by Russian weapons. Later armies had hidden behind their walls, assuming they were solid; missiles designed to blow holes in tanks had smashed right through them, allowing the God-King’s forces to storm the cities. Males had been butchered, females had been raped; any survivors, once the bloodlust had faded, had been enslaved and marched off in chains. Percy had no idea how sustainable the new empire was - Alexander’s empire hadn’t lasted long, after his death - but it hardly mattered. The God-King would butcher or convert half the planet if he wasn't stopped.
“You will need to see the compound yourself,” Ivan offered. They’d tried to draw out maps, but the Vesy didn't seem to be good with them. “I can take you there.”
Percy shook his head. “I don't look like you,” he said. There would be value in a reconnaissance mission, he was sure, but not one that ended with his capture. “They’d see me coming and snatch me.”
He smirked. “We do have other ways to probe, though.”
The interior of the buildings was surprisingly cool, despite the heat outside. Inside, Privates Hardesty and Fisherman had set up a passive sensor array, then a set of surveillance and medical gear. Some of the Vesy had already volunteered to be scanned by the doctor - the Russians, it seemed, had actually assisted some of the wounded, if they were useful - while others were studying the sensor nodes with rapt fascination. Fisherman explained, patiently, that some of them could carry the recorders up to the compound, then return to share what they’d seen. Ivan laughed, once he understood what he was being shown, then hurried to round up a set of volunteers.
“Be careful,” Hadfield warned, while Percy was waiting for the volunteers to assemble. “You cannot afford to assume they think like us.”
Percy nodded. Ivan was definitely more human than the Tadpoles, but some of his casual comments had been enough to worry Percy. He’d shown no sign of hesitation over the prospect of slaughtering everyone in the compound, even human women and children. Only the promise of reward had convinced him to agree to take prisoners. But then, human women and children were unlikely to be interesting to any of the Vesy. The Russians had argued, more than once, that nits bred lice ... and the V
esy, it seemed, had been excellent students. It was clear the God-King had embraced religious genocide with enthusiasm.
“You need to carry one of these devices about your person,” Percy said, when the volunteers had arrived. “Don’t let them be seen by the Russians. They will suspect the worst.”
He watched the volunteers go, then sighed and sat down. Most of the Marines were resting, catching forty winks while they had the chance, but he couldn't force himself to rest. Instead, he looked over towards the medical table, where one of the Vesy was being scanned. The medic seemed to be having fun, waving all kinds of sensors over the alien body. It wasn't so easy to tell what the alien made of it.
“She’s pregnant,” Seymour Chalmers said, when the scanning was complete. “With at least two healthy eggs.”
Percy blinked. “That’s a she?”
[Ark Royal 04] - Warspite Page 34