A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (19 page)

“A little mad,” Percy repeated.  “Sir, with all due respect, there isn't a shred of evidence that they can read their own minds, let alone ours.”

“There isn’t a shred of real evidence that humans have any psychic powers at all,” Boone pointed out, “but that doesn't stop people from believing in them.  The Tadpoles don’t have any psychic powers either.  And I’m required to sign off a list of potential threats.”

He sighed.  “There was a story I read as a child,” he said.  “I’ve forgotten the title; a human starship meets an alien starship, several hundred light years from Earth.  The aliens are reasonably friendly, but neither side dares to go home for fear the other will follow them and locate their homeworld.  They even come up with elaborate plans to seize the other ship, only to discover that the other side had the same idea.  In the end, they swap ships ... because it’s the only way to be sure they can get home without letting the other follow them.”

Percy considered it.  “I don't think we’re facing the same situation here, sir,” he said.  “The Vesy may be alien, but they’re primitive.  They don’t have the ability to threaten us, either directly or indirectly.”

“I still need to verify it,” Boone said.  He shrugged, then leaned forward.  “How are your men coping with the current deployment?”

“Better for being able to get out of the fort,” Percy said.  “We’ve been learning much more about the surrounding area, now we’ve been able to roam further afield.”

“Good, good,” Boone said.  “There will be another wave of landings in a week, if the updates are to be believed; I’m going to want you to escort the NGOs as they make contact with more alien cities and communities.  There will probably be additional media visits to their cities too, which will also require escorts.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy said.  Penny would probably
love
it.  “Do I still have authority to sit on them, if necessary?”

“I’m afraid so,” Boone said.  “Try not to hurt their feelings
too
much, Lieutenant.”

Percy groaned, inwardly.  His men were no longer completely alone on an alien world, but they still had strict orders to refrain from doing anything that might provoke the Vesy to attack - or, more practically, switch sides.  If a reporter asking dumb questions could provoke a human into a furious rage, with a burning desire to bury his fist in the reporter’s jaw, who knew what it would do to the aliens?  Would one of them try to behead a reporter? 

And that would be an amusing thought,
he told himself,
if Penny wasn't one of those reporters
.

She’d coped well, he had to admit, with watching the sacrifice.  But then, she’d seen horror; the waves, the rising floodwaters, the desperate bid for safety ... and then, sleeping in the refugee camp while her brother had been dispatched to one of the work gangs fighting to build defences before the waters rose again.  Percy didn't know
precisely
what had happened to her there, but his imagination provided too many possibilities.  Perhaps his baby sister was tougher than she looked.

Boone cleared his throat.  “On other matters, you may be assigned to watch the Indians,” he added.  “Could you and your men move overland to their base?”

Percy considered it.  The Royal Marines had been known to march for hundreds of miles, if necessary, but there were four hundred miles of largely unfamiliar country between Fort Knight and the Indian base.  They had plenty of experience at sneaking through jungle terrain - Percy had fond memories of training cycles in Latin America - yet he rather doubted their ability to move undetected.  Humans would stick out like sore thumbs if they showed themselves to prying satellites, high overhead.  And besides, the Vesy were alarmingly good at sneaking through the undergrowth.

“Not without being detected,” he said, finally.  “We could call it a long-range patrol, without trying to make a secret out of it, but the aliens would flock to see us.”

“So I’ve been told,” Boone said.  “They’re not scared of us, are they?”

“This isn't Earth,” Percy said.  “There’s no datanet, just ... rumours.  Aliens who live a mere hundred miles from the God-King’s empire may not really believe in his existence, let alone the Russians.  A thousand miles away?  The battle here, the battle that ended when
Warspite
hammered the aliens from orbit?  It’s going to sound like a myth to them.  The gods dropped fire from the sky and obliterated whole armies.  They probably won’t believe it, not really.”

He shrugged.  “To them, sir, we look strange ... but not fearsome.”

“Or so we are told,” Boone said.  “Humans tend to have a more xenophobic response.”

“The Vesy have their gods,” Percy said.  “Some of them are ... well, big Vesy-like creatures in the sky.  Others look like they would give Lovecraft nightmares.  Hell, sir; they still believe in entities hiding in the jungle and fairies at the bottom of the garden.  I think they’re a little more familiar with the concept of intelligent life that doesn't look like them than we tend to believe.”

“Good thinking,” Boone said.  He frowned, contemplating his fingernails.  “Have you mentioned that to the Professor?”

“I haven't had a chance to talk to the Professor, sir,” Percy said.  He recalled the man, but he hadn't had any real contact with him before the trip to the alien city.  “He seemed to have a better understanding of what we were seeing.”

“Tell him your theory,” Boone said.  “He may make something of it.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy said.

“And write up a complete report about the visit too,” Boone added.  “I may need something to show my superiors, once the report gets home.  Human sacrifice ... the Vesy aren't cute and cuddly, are they?”

“No, sir,” Percy said.  His lips twitched with amusement at the thought.  “But if they looked like teddy-bears, would we actually take them seriously?”

“I dare say a few more people will take them seriously from now on,” Boone said.  “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Percy saluted, then left the room.

Chapter Eighteen

“Captain,” Lieutenant-Commander Tara Rosenberg said.  “I have another freighter heading towards the planet.  The IFF identifies her as a chartered vessel.”

John nodded shortly as he glanced at the display.  There were quite a few chartered ships in orbit now, some sending shuttles and supplies down to Fort Knight.  Thankfully, the agreement to search all such ships was holding up, although John rather doubted it would last indefinitely.  There were two new governments involved now and neither one had signed the agreement. 

And the folks back home might just cancel it anyway
, he thought. 
Not everyone will approve of searching chartered vessels
.

“Mr. Armstrong, put us on an intercept course,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.

“Contact the ship,” John added, glancing at Lieutenant Forbes.  “Send them a copy of the agreement and order them to prepare to be boarded.”

“Aye, sir,” Gillian said.

John settled back in his command chair as
Warspite
picked up speed, heading towards her target.  The freighter looked to be a modified
Liberty
-class ship, an American design that had been produced in large numbers and then sold to a dozen other spacefaring powers.  There was nothing particularly special about them, which had been a large part of the design’s appeal.  The owners didn't have to keep purchasing spare parts from the United States.

“Her IFF identifies her as a Ceres-registered ship,” Gillian said.  “She’s apparently called the
Makeweight
.”

“I see,” John said.

He cursed under his breath.  The Ceres Association was the largest independent asteroid community in the Sol System, recognised as a nation in its own right.  It might not have been considered one of the Great Powers - it barely operated a handful of small warships - but it was economically formidable and had thousands of allies scattered throughout the asteroid belt.  And they were quite happy to register starships, rather than go through the more complex registration procedures demanded by the Great Powers.  It had created a whole series of headaches in the past, before the war.

So what are we looking at here
?  He asked himself. 
An independent freighter flagged to Ceres or an official diplomatic mission
?

The latter seemed unlikely, he had to admit.  Ceres didn't have many diplomats, not least because it didn’t have much of a government.  Indeed, political pundits had been predicting the imminent collapse of the Association for the last seventy years.  Besides, they would have identified themselves as such when they arrived.  It was far more likely that someone had chartered the freighter and set off to Vesy.

“Picking up a response, sir,” Gillian said.  “They’re demanding free passage to Vesy in line with the Outer Space Convention of 2190.”

John shook his head.  “Inform them that they have a choice between being searched or returning to more settled space,” he said, flatly.  This was going to cause at least one diplomatic incident, he was sure. 
Ceres
hadn't signed the agreement, and given that no one owned Vesy, there were scant legal grounds for denying the ship passage to orbit.  “We cannot risk making the situation on the ground worse.”

There was a long pause.  “No response, sir,” Gillian said.

“They’re accelerating,” Tara reported.

They’re mad
, John thought. 
Warspite
could catch the freighter with two fusion cores down, even if the freighter had a head start.  In this case, they were actually accelerating towards
Warspite
, as if they were playing a demented game of chicken. 
They have to be out of their minds
.

“Light them up,” he ordered, tartly.  At this range, it was unlikely they could actually
miss
, but targeting the freighter so blatantly would be enough to make anyone reasonably sane sit up and pay attention.  “And repeat the demand that they cut their drives and prepare to be boarded.”

There was a long pause.  “Picking up a visual signal,” Gillian said.

“Patch it through,” John ordered.  A face appeared in the display.  “This is Captain John Naiser of HMS
Warspite
...”

“This is an absolute outrage,” the face snapped.  “You have no right to bar our passage!”

John kept his temper under firm control.  “To whom am I speaking, if I may enquire?”

“I am Senior Brother Kent Thompson,” the face sneered.  “I represent the Society of Interstellar Brotherhood.  You did not attempt to search our first ship, so we do not concede we have a legal obligation to allow you to search the second.”

“Tell me,” John said.  “Are you the commanding officer of
Makeweight
?”

“No,” a different voice said.  Thompson scowled as a new face appeared in the display, an older man with the hairless scalp of an asteroid dweller.  “I am Captain Samsun.”

John hesitated.  He couldn't help thinking that Captain Samsun looked harassed.  Maybe he’d come to regret allowing the Brothers to hire his ship. 
John
would not have cared to share a ship with Kent Thompson, if that was the attitude the Brother showed to everyone.  But it wasn't something he could do anything about, not now.

“Captain, it has been decided,
pro tem
, that shipments of weapons and certain other prohibited goods to the Vesy is banned,” he said, trying to ignore Thompson.  “I have a legal right to search your ship for any such goods and hold them until such time as you depart this star system.  The governments back home may overturn this at some later date, but for the moment I have to enforce it.”

“To the best of my knowledge,” Samsun said, “Ceres has not agreed to abide by any such agreement.”

“
Exactly
,” Thompson said.  “You have no right to stop us!”

“That is debatable,” John said.  He couldn't help noticing the flicker of irritation that passed over Samsun’s face.  “What is
not
debatable is that I have the
ability
to stop you.  Cut your drives and prepare to be boarded or turn about and leave this system.”

Thompson sneered.  “Or what?”

“Or I will cripple your ship,” John said.

“A bluff,” Thompson snapped.

“Which will not be called,” Samsun said.  He raised his voice.  “Cut engines, then unlock the airlocks.”

“
Captain
,” Thompson protested.  “I ...”

“Your ship will be boarded in five minutes,” John said, as
Makeweight
cut her drives.  “I strongly advise you to cooperate.”

Thompson scowled at him, then vanished from the display as the link was cut.  John wondered, absently, if Samsun would like the Marines to remove Thompson and his cronies from the ship, then dismissed the thought and tapped commands to his men.  Captain Hadfield would search the ship thoroughly, with some help from Richards and his crew, and then report back to him.  And then they could make a decision on allowing
Makeweight
to pass.

It was nearly two hours before the Marines returned to
Warspite
, bringing Thompson and Samsun with them.  John took a moment to survey the manifest before they were escorted into his office, shaking his head at just how much had been removed from Earth.  The farming equipment was under an embargo, if he recalled correctly, given just how hard it had become to feed Earth’s teeming population.  And then there were the weapons ... how the hell had the Brotherhood managed to obtain so many weapons?  And what did they plan to do with them?

“I must lodge a formal protest, with your government and mine,” Samsun said, as they were shown into the office.  “Your crewmen poked their way into everything.”

“That is their job,” John said.  Richards was an old hand at hiding things around a ship and knew precisely where to look, when working for the other side.  “Still, for the moment, we are only concerned with weapons.”

He looked at Thompson, who seemed a little more subdued in the presence of armed marines, and met his eyes.

“Why did you bring so many weapons on a
peaceful
mission?”

Thompson glowered at him.  “The Vesy need human weapons to survive,” he snapped.  “We will give them weapons without a price tag!”

“They must have cost you a pretty penny,” John observed.  It would be hard to purchase so many weapons in Britain, not without valid End User certificates.  “Where did they come from?”

“Our chapter in America purchased them for us,” Thompson said, finally.  “They’re all tested and guaranteed.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” John said, dryly.  “However, they will not be going down to the surface.”

He ignored Thompson’s splutter.  “Next question,” he said.  “How did you obtain the farming equipment?”

Thompson’s face hardened.  “Is this an interrogation?”

“It might be,” John said.  “There isn't a country on Earth that would willingly sell farming equipment, not now.  They need it to feed themselves.  That means you either bought it illegally or ...”

“It was produced in Ceres,” Thompson said, quickly.  “They were trying to sell to Earth, but not
exclusively
to Earth.”

“I see,” John said.  “And the medical equipment?”

“Ditto,” Thompson said.  He smirked.  “As you can see, we broke no laws.”

“I would ask why you brought so many books on political theory and philosophy,” John said, “but I’m honestly afraid of the answer.”

“The Vesy need assistance in moving up the ladder of civilisation,” Thompson said.  “The books we bought can help them to reshape their society.”

“Into what?”  John asked.  “No, never mind; I don’t want to know.”

He met Thompson’s eyes and held them.  “The weapons you bought will be confiscated,” he said, “as will the educational programs and terminals.  There
is
a blanket ban on selling them to aliens, I might add.”

“We were not planning to
sell
them,” Thompson insisted.

“I would dearly like to see you try that argument in front of a judge,” John said.  “The letter of the law may ban
selling
the items, but the
spirit
of the law certainly bans
giving
them as well.”

“It is an unjust law,” Thompson insisted.

“That’s as maybe,” John said.  “But there are chances we are not going to take, not now.”

He took a breath.  “If the weapons and other confiscated items are useful, you will be paid a fair price for them,” he continued.  “If not, you may reclaim them when you leave the system.”

“Daylight robbery,” Thompson snapped.

John ignored him.  “You will be assigned an orbital slot and a time for shipping the rest of your wares down to Vesy,” he said.  “I would advise you to make sure you read the briefing notes and study the presentations before you land.  Contact with the Vesy will take place under supervision, at least until we’re sure you can speak to them without causing additional problems or discussing issues that are considered forbidden.  If this is unacceptable, turn around and leave the system.”

“The Brothers have friends everywhere,” Thompson said.  “Your career will be blighted ...”

“My career is not at stake here,” John said, although he knew that wasn't true.  Admiral Soskice probably held a grudge after John had relieved Commander Watson of duty and might take the opportunity to drive a stake through John’s career.  “What
is
at stake is preventing a social and political disaster on the planet below.  If you cause problems, I will not hesitate to have you unceremoniously removed from the planet.”