A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (17 page)

He leaned forward and sucked in his breath as the colony came into view.  The briefings had told him that it had been expanded radically from the smaller installations he remembered, yet the Indians had clearly been working to expand it themselves.  A number of prefabricated buildings were as he remembered - the original plan had been to expand underground, rather than expand the surface facilities - but the Indians had added a number of others to suit themselves.  One looked rather like a barracks he’d seen on Mars complete with large airlock for suited soldiers; the others looked like warehouses, crammed with goodies from the orbiting starships.  Dozens of men and machines were working on the landscape beyond the colony, carving out a far larger spaceport and a number of installations.  One of them looked alarmingly like a ground-based mass driver.

They could hit anything in orbit,
he thought.  Mass drivers had been set up all over Earth, after the start of the war.  They’d helped save the planet from the Tadpoles. 
And they could probably hit something much further away, if they got lucky
.

Drake slipped up next to him as a shuttle flew overhead and landed on the makeshift landing pad.  Percy watched a long line of suited men - or women - emerging from the craft and making their way into the nearest prefabricated building.  Assuming the underground facilities hadn't expanded much further, he told himself, the Indians could have landed over four thousand people on the moon.  Supporting them wouldn't be a problem, provided they had sufficient living space.  The life support unit the original colonists had landed was massively over-engineered.  It could have provided enough air and basic foodstuffs to supply over fifty
thousand
people, if pushed to the limits. 

“We need to set up a camp,” Drake signalled.  “Move back.”

The troopers had done it before, Percy noted; they’d probably practiced ever since it had become clear that war was the only realistic option.  A site was chosen, on the rear of the mountain; a set of tents was established, then camouflaged under netting and handfuls of gathered snow.  Percy was sure it was only a matter of time until it snowed again, providing additional cover.  The troopers would be undetectable unless someone stumbled over them and
that
was unlikely.  He doubted the Indians would be keen on letting their men go climbing when there was a war on.

Unless they conclude it would be the perfect vantage point
, he thought.  The Indians didn't seem to have detected the shuttle, but they might be simply playing a very long game. 
They might want to run sweeps through the mountains anyway, just to be sure there’s nothing here
.

He shook his head as he stumbled through the makeshift airlock and into the tent.  The Indians would have to be mad to
let
an SAS team just wander around the landscape at will, even if they
thought
they had the situation under control.  No, the smart thing for them to have done would have been to blow
Sneaky Bastard
out of space as soon as they detected her - or, if they waited for the shuttle to enter the atmosphere, claim it was an accident if they still wanted to avoid a shooting war.  Given the planet’s atmosphere and the shuttle’s design, it wouldn't have been an unbelievable claim.

“Keep your suit on at all times,” Lewis reminded him.  “We might have to run in a hurry.”

If the Indians stumble across us
, Percy thought. 
We’d be pretty close to dead the moment they set eyes on our positions
.

He took a ration bar and chewed it, thankfully.  It tasted better than anything he’d eaten in the marines.  The SAS, it seemed, got a better class of rations.  But then, even on Vesy during the first mission, he hadn't been anything like as exposed.  Lewis rattled through a box of supplies, passing out tiny sensors and monitoring devices that would have to be emplaced near the colony.  Given time, they could parse out the enemy patterns and decide what to do next.

“Link into the stealthed platforms,” Drake ordered.  He glanced at Cook.  “Send a message to
Warspite
.  Tell them we’re on the ground.”

“Aye, sir,” Cook said.  He sounded doubtful.  “That storm is coming in fast, sir.  We may not be able to maintain a laser link indefinitely.”

And now we’re trapped
, Percy thought, darkly. 
Sneaky Bastard
could no longer fly.  They were stuck until the moon was liberated or the war came to a negotiated end.  It was vaguely possible they could steal an Indian shuttle, he knew, but he doubted they could get very far before the craft was blown out of space.  The Indians would have to be asleep at the switch to miss them leaving in a stolen shuttle. 
But at least they don't know we’re here
.

“The storm will provide us with some cover, so we’ll start probing once
Warspite
has left the system,” Drake continued.  “I want Ed, Martin and James on watch.  Dale; you and your troopers set up the rest of the gear.  Percy, you’re on overlook with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy said.  Drake wouldn’t want to risk the cruiser, if something went badly wrong and the SAS were caught.  “There may be other vantage points further around the mountain range.”

Drake nodded.  “I want to know what’s changed too,” he added.  His voice turned thoughtful.  “And which buildings can be attacked without risking the civilians.”

“Yes, sir,” Percy said, again.

Chapter Sixteen

HMS
Warspite
, Pegasus System

“The insertion team has made it down,” Lieutenant Gillian Forbes reported.  “They're in position now.”

John allowed himself a moment of relief.  The plan had seemed good on paper - and the SAS had been confident they could handle it - but he’d been far too aware of just how many things could go wrong.  Landing on Clarke was hard enough without having to hide from watchful enemy eyes.  But it looked as though he’d been wrong.  The SAS had made it down and had marched overland to a vantage point near the colony.

He took a breath.  It went against the grain to abandon anyone, even though it had been part of the plan from the start.  The brushfire wars of the Age of Unrest had been marred by countless atrocities committed against British personnel who’d been captured by the enemy; these days, the mere
prospect
of someone falling into enemy hands demanded a full-scale response.  He’d been raised in the tradition of leaving no man behind - or, if it was already too late, recovering the body.  But now ...

“Helm,” he ordered.  “Pull us back to open space.”

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.

John watched, grimly, as
Warspite
slowly moved away from Clarke.  He sometimes wondered just how many people had been left behind on Vesy, just how many humans had been unaccounted for in the chaos.  It was quite possible that a number had been captured and
not
handed over to the Indians.  The Vesy had good reason to be angry at the human race.  If they had captives, would they milk those captives for all they could get ... or would they sacrifice them to the gods?  Either answer was possible.

Particularly as building a technological civilisation is beyond any one man
, he thought, darkly. 
No matter who they captured, they couldn’t jump from basic gunpowder to plasma cannons and orbital bombardment overnight.

The Indian starfighters had returned to their carrier, he noted with some relief.  He’d spent some time studying their formations, but it was impossible to say anything for certain.  It didn't
look
as though the Indians expected attack, yet that was meaningless.  They’d know the task force was on its way; they’d have plenty of time to prepare for battle before Admiral Fitzwilliam steered his ships through the tramlines and into Pegasus.  John wondered, idly, if there
was
a way to sneak the fleet through, but he rather doubted it.  The fleet train, at least, had no stealth mode.

“Captain,” Armstrong said.  “We are in clear space.”

John nodded, studying the display.  One Indian destroyer was making a beeline back to the carrier; another, more sedately, was heading towards the tramline to Vesy.  The carrier herself was still holding position, surrounded by her flock of attendants.  If they knew that
Warspite
was in the system, they were doing a very good job of playing dumb.  They
could
be waiting for
Warspite
to leave before they altered their dispositions ...

He sighed.  It had been so much simpler fighting an alien foe.

“Take us directly to the tramline, as planned,” he ordered.  The SAS would be on their own, but that had been true since the moment they’d left.  “Stealth mode is to be maintained.”

“Aye, sir,” Armstrong said.  “Seven hours until we make transit.”

John resisted the temptation to rub his eyes.  He’d been on duty for far too long, but he didn't want to leave the bridge until they were well clear of the gas giant.  There was no reason to believe they’d run into an Indian starship between their current position and the tramline, but he wanted to be sure.  He shook his head, mentally; Howard would be perfectly capable of handling it, if they did.  They’d already agreed to avoid contact if possible ...

And if there’s no way out
, he told himself,
we can engage the enemy without waiting for them to fire first
.

“Local space is clear, sir,” Tara said, as they glided further away from the planet.  “There’s no evidence they saw us.”

“Understood,” John said.  It was frustrating; he would have preferred a straight-up battle to sneaking around, definitely.  But there
would
be a battle soon, unless the Indians backed down and withdrew.  He didn't expect it to happen.  “Mr. Howard, you have the bridge.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said.

“Inform me when we’re nearing the tramline,” John ordered.  “Or if the Indians show any marked change in their posture.”

“Aye, sir,” Howard said, again.

John nodded and strode through the hatch, feeling tired and worn.  The lack of shore leave - the chance to put the burden of command down for a few days - was taking its toll.  A few nights in a hotel room in Sin City, a handsome young man to share his bed ... what more could he want?  The thought of meeting someone who would take Colin’s place was tempting, but he didn't have the time.  Even if he did, would he meet someone who liked him for himself or someone who merely wanted to be close to fame?

He shook his head as he stepped into the cabin, the hatch hissing closed behind him.  It wouldn't take longer than a day to survey Vesy, then another couple of days to reach Cromwell and do the same there before heading through the tramlines to Hannibal, where they were supposed to link up with the task force.  The Admiral would be glad to hear from them, he was sure; John would just be glad to have a chance to return to Pegasus and attack the Indian positions ...

We’ll have to sneak in again
, he thought darkly, as he climbed into his bunk without bothering to undress. 
Someone will have to link into the stealthed platforms and take the report from the people on the ground.

***

The odd thing about the Vesy System, Penny had decided long ago, was just how
normal
it was.  There wasn't anything odd in the system, save for a gas giant that was unusable for a reason she didn't pretend to understand; there didn't seem to be anything that could account for the presence of an intelligent race.  But then, there wasn't anything uncommon about Earth either, as far as she knew.  The only odd world to produce an intelligent form of life was Tadpole Prime.

But then,
she told herself,
we don’t really have enough samples to judge
.

“That’s very definitely a second supercarrier hanging between the tramlines,” Lieutenant-Commander Tara Rosenberg said.  They stood together in the tactical compartment, watching the holographic display.  “They probably wanted to compromise on location.”

Penny frowned.  “Why aren't they orbiting Vesy itself?”

“There’s nothing on the planet worth protecting,” Tara explained.  “If they needed to respond to trouble from the natives, they’d only really need a destroyer and a few units of armoured soldiers to turn the balance in their favour.  Keeping the supercarrier in open space allows them to respond to a crisis in either Pegasus or Gandhi.”

She shrugged.  “They’d probably be happier with a
third
carrier, so they could have one permanently posted to Gandhi and one kept in reserve here, but they don’t have a third carrier,” she added, after a moment.  “They have to make do with what they have.”

“They might get caught out of position,” Penny speculated.  She wasn't a military expert, but she
had
read a lot of books and watched dozens of tactical simulations.  “By the time they respond to an alarm call it may already be too late.”

“They have to make do with what they have,” Tara repeated.  She shrugged.  “It is a gamble, I admit, but they don’t have any choice.  Putting the second carrier in Vesy lets them respond to a crisis without fatally compromising their ability to hold one of their core systems.  I imagine there won’t be anything more than an escort carrier, at best, within Cromwell.”

Penny considered it.  “So we might manage to defeat one carrier and then the other?”

“We’d certainly prefer to handle them one carrier at a time,” Tara agreed.  She tapped a switch, deactivating the display.  “Did you find it informative?”

“It’s not something I can report,” Penny said.  There was no way she’d be allowed to report on
Warspite’s
mission until the end of the war.  “But it was very useful background material.”

“No one ever looks at background material,” Tara said.  She gave Penny a thin smile.  “If someone wants to bury an embarrassing fact, they put it in the files of background material, safe in the knowledge no one else will ever find it.”

“I’ll have to spend time reading it,” Penny said, dryly.  “There isn't much else to do on the ship.”

Tara gave her an odd look.  “There's
always
something to do onboard ship,” she said.  “I made the mistake of complaining about being bored when I was a midshipwoman and the lieutenant promptly found me a few million tasks that needed doing.”

Penny blinked.  “A few
million
tasks?”

“They do tend to add up,” Tara pointed out.  “There are thousands of components throughout the ship that need to be checked regularly, then the decks need to be washed on a regular basis, the tubes need to be cleaned and the life support system needs to be monitored.  And then there’s the constant need to exercise regularly ...”

“Not for me,” Penny said.  “There’s nothing to do beyond writing reports that won’t get past the censors.”

“If you think that’s true,” Tara said, “why are you even here?”

“I can write a proper report after the war,” Penny said, after the moment.  “But it wasn't quite what I was promised.  Anything that will get past the censors won’t interest people back home.”

Tara looked doubtful.  “What
does
interest people on Earth?”

Penny sighed.  “Sex, violence, royalty, baby animals ... my editor used to say that the perfect headline included at least three of them.  One of the reporters managed to sell a story entitled ‘Duke of Something shoots down mating birds on hunting trip.’  It was a hit.”

“Some people have too much time on their hands,” Tara said.  “I suppose we could get the sex and violence part, if we tried.  Or would that come under the heading of bringing the navy into disrepute.”

Penny gave her a sharp look.  “Sex and violence?”

“There was a right Casanova on my last ship,” Tara said.  “I honestly don’t know how he managed to bonk two separate girls at the same time.  It shouldn't have been possible, not when everyone knows everything that’s going on.  But he actually made it last for over three months before they found out and ... well, they had to be dragged off him.  That was after he made the crack about wanting to have a catfight, of course.”

“I don’t think I’d be allowed to report
that
story,” Penny said.  There were quite a few books written by spacers after they left the navy, but she couldn't recall actually reading about anything like Tara’s story.  “The censors would probably complain I wasn't focusing on the meat of the matter.”

“I’m going to write it down myself,” Tara said.  “Do you think I can get a whole book out of it?”

“I don’t know,” Penny said.  She suspected her editor would run it, after the war, but filling a whole book would require a few hundred more stories.  “Does it have a happy ending?”

Tara smirked.  “For whom?”

“Good question,” Penny agreed. 

Tara cleared her throat.  “You have to put in the effort before you can be anything,” she said, dryly.  “Your time here might seem boring now, but you’d have the experience you needed to write a kick-ass report after the war is over.  The censors wouldn't be so censorious once the shooting has stopped.

“I have the same problem, of course.  I want to be a commanding officer, one day, but I can't walk out of the Academy and straight into a command chair.  No, I have to work my way up the ranks; ideally, I should be promoted to commander in a year or two and win a chance to be an XO.”