A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (15 page)

“I will accept that, for the moment,” Ivan said.  The beady eyes winked at her.  “I have been given to understand that your race is unfailingly polite, when discussing matters between two separate” - he paused for a long moment - “nations.  Is that correct?”

“Largely so,” Joelle said.  The Vesy didn't really have a concept of
nations
, or anything greater than the city-states.  That would probably change soon, with or without human intervention.  “We believe it helps prevent disagreements that become wars.”

“That is not our way,” Ivan said.  “We believe that it is better for requests and demands to be stated clearly, without room for misunderstandings.  Our” - he used a word in his own language - “speak bluntly.”

While carrying a big stick
, Joelle guessed.  Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise, even without Schneider’s warnings.  The Romans and Greeks hadn't been big fans of diplomacy either, at least not when they held the upper hand. 
The word he used must mean something akin to a diplomat
.

“That would be acceptable,” Joelle said.  She’d been called all sorts of nasty things at diplomatic meetings and never lost her cool.  It helped that she'd known she was backed by one of the largest sticks in the known universe.  “You may speak bluntly.”

“We have seen what your ...
technology
can do,” Ivan said.  “We have seen you, and the Russians, deploy weapons that dominate the battlefield.  We have seen your medics heal wounds and repair damage that should have killed the victim.  We have seen that you have so much we want.  We want it.”

Joelle hesitated, then nodded.  “What do you want, precisely?”

“Weapons, medicine and tools,” Ivan said.

His beady eyes met hers.  “We allied with your people when they first arrived on the planet,” he added.  “However, the existence of other human ...
nations
has changed the balance of power.  We must obtain technology from you or seek it from others.”

And that, Joelle knew, was a very blunt statement.  She understood Ivan’s dilemma; if they stayed loyal to the British, city-states that signed up with other nations might start considering them potential targets ... and if they failed to obtain any modern weapons, they would be slaughtered by their opponents.  It had been a long time since she’d studied the complexities of North American diplomacy, in the days before the American Revolution, but she suspected her current situation had more in common with the early colonial settlements than she cared to admit.  If she didn't keep the aliens on her side, through bribes and gifts, they would go to the other human powers.

But the Professor is right
, she thought. 
Introducing new technology will disrupt their society beyond repair
.

“We can provide you with technology,” she said, slowly.  She did have considerable room to manoeuvre over precisely
what
she sent to them.  “However, I should warn you that you might find that introducing something new may do serious damage to your society.”

“So will being crushed by another city-state armed with your weapons,” Ivan pointed out.  It was hard to be sure, but she had the feeling the alien was laughing at her.  “It would
destroy
our society.”

He was right, she knew.  She’d seen the images from
Warspite’s
first visit to Vesy, when the God-King’s rapid expansion had shattered into ruin.  He’d enslaved entire populations, including Ivan’s home city; now, it was sheer luck that enough of the slaves had survived to start a new city.  Conquest didn't mean a few hundred dead, not now; it meant death or slavery for hundreds of thousands of aliens.  Ivan’s new city might die as easily as the old.

Ivan cleared his throat.  “There is no longer any choice for us,” he said.  “Supply us with weapons and technology or we must go elsewhere.  Our spies report that your rivals have already begun arming their new allies, giving them weapons we cannot match.  Help us or lose us.”

Joelle heard Grace cough behind her.  She knew what was going through the idealist’s head; there was no reason, no matter the situation, to add human weapons to an already poisonous stew.  But cold practicality worked against them.  She could not afford to gain a reputation for abandoning her allies, not on a planet where they
needed
alien allies.  God knew a reputation for being a flaky ally had plagued the United States throughout the Age of Unrest, when it had needed allies more than ever before.

“We will supply you with weapons, if you wish,” she said, finally.  She knew she needed to confer with her diplomatic staff as well as Captain Naiser and Lieutenant-Colonel Boone, but she had a feeling that the Vesy would not accept any more delays.  Time was not on their side.  “However, we will want some other concessions in exchange.”

Ivan rocked back, slightly.  “Name your price,” he said.

Joelle smiled to herself, despite her growing concern, and then started to negotiate.  There was a wish list, after all; permission to explore alien territory, permission to learn about the alien culture, detailed intelligence reports on the neighbouring city-states ... the list went on and on, covering all kinds of topics.  It might be interesting, she thought, to see just how much Ivan was prepared to concede.

But when he conceded almost everything by the time the meeting reached its end, she realised that the alien wasn't just nervous, he was
desperate
.  And that, she was sure, spelt trouble.

Chapter Fourteen

“They refused to consider an exclusive agreement,” Ambassador Joelle Richardson said, through the communications link.  “Other than that ... they agreed to whatever we wanted.”

John frowned.  “Everything?”

“Yes, Captain,” Joelle said.  “We now have a whole series of rights.  Our people can visit their city-state, if we like; we can speak to their people and carry out research into their culture and society.  But it all comes at the price of fuelling the local arms race.”

“I'm not surprised,” John said.  He remembered meeting Ivan, after the attack on the Russian base.  The alien had struck him as ruthlessly pragmatic - and quick-thinking, willing to ally with the British newcomers to fight the Russians.  “They don't have much choice.”

Joelle’s eyes narrowed.  “Do you agree with them, Captain?”

John took a moment to consider his answer.  “There are times when the niceties must be thrown out of the airlock,” he said.  “For us, and I imagine for them, survival comes first, always.  They need our weapons to survive.  If they don’t get their hands on them, Ambassador, they will be overwhelmed by those who do.”

“And if we refuse to supply them, they will turn to other powers,” Joelle said, slowly.  “It doesn't seem right, somehow.”

“Professor Nordstrom believes that our involvement will destroy their culture,” John said.  “Your aide believes that we have a moral right to assist them in
improving
their culture.  But the aliens don’t have time to worry about the long-term, not now.  They need to worry about staying alive and relatively free.”

He shrugged.  “Does it really make any difference who supplies the weapons?”

“It might to the Prime Minister,” Joelle said.  “What happens when the media picks up on a massacre and blames it on British weapons?  The Opposition will make hay out of it in the Houses of Parliament.”

“Politicians,” John said.  It wouldn't be the first time that idealism - and an understandable urge to avoid controversy - had led to a diplomatic disaster.  “If you don’t give the aliens weapons, you lose them to other powers; if you do give them weapons, you can be charged with aiding and abetting a war between alien factions.  It doesn't seem like a situation wherein you can actually
win
.”

“We could offer a security blanket ourselves,” Joelle said.  “We did it a couple of times on Earth.”

“And both times eventually ended with the blanket being withdrawn,” John pointed out.  It had been much worse in the Age of Unrest, when old certainties had been falling everywhere and once-trusted alliances became nothing more than ink on paper.  “The Vesy would be fools to trust us to look after their interests.”

“We mean them well,” Joelle said, stung.

“They would be fools to take that on trust,” John said.  “What happens if there is a General Election and the next Prime Minister decides to cancel our commitment to Vesy?  Their only viable course of action is to get their hands on human weapons, either from us or some other nation.”

“You sound as if you approve,” Joelle said, darkly.

“I understand Ivan’s position,” John said.  “He really doesn’t have a choice.”

“Because of the Indians,” Joelle muttered.  She cleared her throat.  “Are they really giving weapons to their allies?”

“We have orbital recordings of aliens training with human weapons,” John said.  He swung his terminal around and tapped a switch, reviewing the images.  “The Indians had to have supplied them, Ambassador.  There’s nothing too heavy, no long-range artillery or anti-aircraft weapons, but enough to give their allies a decisive advantage, assuming we don’t supply weapons ourselves.  They might expand more rapidly than the God-King and overwhelm Ivan and his people before they can learn to defend themselves.”

“And if that happens,” Joelle said, “who do we talk to?”

John nodded in understanding.  It had been an old problem on Earth, during the Age of Unrest; the people the Western Governments preferred to talk to were rarely the people in power.  If Ivan was killed and his city-state crushed, should the British recognise the facts on the ground ... or what?  Intervene in a war between two different alien factions, a war that might drag in human powers?  It seemed absurd to think that a war on an alien world could lead to a general human war, but if the assassination of a single man could lead to the First World War ...

But the world was ripe for a major war
, he thought. 
There might well have been a war anyway, even if the spark happened to be something different.  The alliances would still have come into play and all hell would have broken loose.

He shook his head.  It wasn't likely to happen.  The Great Powers knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they weren't alone in the universe.  A major war between human powers might end with the Tadpoles taking advantage of humanity’s sudden weakness to invade human space and put an end to the potential threat, once and for all.  John wasn't sure he’d blame them; if the situation was reversed, he would have seriously considered doing the same.

“We have no choice, but to start supplying weapons,” John said, flatly.  He glanced down at his terminal, then frowned.  “I believe the first crates will be shipped down to the planet tomorrow.”

“That’s fast,” Joelle said.

“All part of the service,” John said.  He grinned.  “3 Para is down and deployed, so we can assure ourselves that the weapons will remain safe, for the moment.”

He paused.  “I’d like you to refrain from mentioning weapons that can be used against shuttles,” he said.  “And if they ask for MANPADs, tell them we don’t have any.”

Joelle gave him a puzzled look.  “Don’t you think they’d have the intelligence to work out that they exist?”

“I’d prefer not to give them ideas,” John said.  He rather suspected the Vesy
would
be able to deduce their existence, but he had no intention of supplying any such weapons to
any
alien faction.  And the Indians, if they had any common sense, would do the same.  “I understand that you are to meet with the other ambassadors and representatives in a couple of days?”

“I am,” Joelle confirmed.

“I would ask you to suggest - strongly - that we place a blanket ban on supplying heavy weapons,” John said.  “Not small arms, not rifles; weapons that can be used against us.  It could lead to real problems.”

“I’ll bring it up,” Joelle said.  She winced.  “It isn't going to be an easy meeting, Captain.”

“I know,” John said.  “I’ve spoken to my American and French counterparts, but they’ve both been somewhat non-committal.  It may require a more formal agreement before they cooperate ...”

He paused as his terminal started to bleep.  When he looked at it, he saw a new wave of starships had entered the system, led by a Turkish destroyer and a pair of pre-war Brazilian frigates.  The frigates were tougher than they looked, he knew all too well; several of them had served with honour in the war, despite being slower and far less manoeuvrable than the more modern ships.  Behind them, there were nine freighters and a passenger liner, one of the few in commission.  Only the very rich could afford to sail between the stars in comfort.

“We have newcomers,” he said, dryly.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the bridge.”

“Understood, Captain,” Joelle said.  “Good luck.”

Her image vanished from the display.  John took a moment to gather himself - life had been so much simpler when he’d been plotting how best to dislodge the Russians from Vesy - and then rose, walking through the hatch to the bridge.  There was work to be done.

***

“I must say I’ve been in nicer prisons,” Penny said, as she peered around the tiny room.  “It has a definite lack of charm.”

“And when,” Percy asked as he closed the door behind them, “were you in prison?”

“I was ordered to do a feature on the renovation of Dartmoor Prison,” she said, as she turned to face her brother.  “It was definitely not the nicest place in the world, but it was nicer than
this
.”

She waved a hand at the wooden walls.  The tiny room wasn't large enough to swing a cat, there was a faint smell of something unpleasant drifting through the air and the washroom facilities reminded her of the refugee camp she’d endured in the days following the bombardment.  And the only source of illumination was a lantern someone had hung from the rooftop, which cast an eerie light over the entire scene.

“But it’s on an alien world,” Percy said, as he sat down on the bunk.  “That must count for something, mustn’t it?”

Penny nodded, ruefully, and leaned against the wall.  It
was
an alien world ... and she had to admit she’d already recorded enough footage to please her bosses, back home on Earth.  She sighed, then studied her brother thoughtfully.  Percy had always been muscular, even before he’d started training in earnest, but now he looked older, more mature.  It was hard, sometimes, to reconcile the older brother who’d put worms in her hair as a child with the grown man sitting in front of her.  And yet, after the bombardment, they’d both had to grow up in a tearing hurry.  They couldn't be children any longer.

“I see you got promoted,” she said.  She smiled, teasing him lightly.  “You’re actually quite famous on Earth, you know.  They’re already planning to do a movie about your life, with Thomas Morse in the lead role ...”

“Shut up,” Percy said, crossly.  “I really hope that’s a joke.”

“Well, it’s Lawrence Newman instead of Thomas Morse,” Penny said.  She broke off at his glare and changed the subject.  “You’re right, Percy.  This
is
an alien world.”

Percy sighed.  “Why did you come here?”

“My bosses thought I’d be good at it,” Penny said.  She wasn't surprised that Percy objected, not really.  He’d been terrifyingly over-protective since the bombardment, even though she was only two years younger than him.  “And it was definitely a chance to make my name.”

“Perhaps as someone who died on Vesy,” Percy said.  “This isn't a safe place, Pen-Pen.”

Penny felt her cheeks flush at the childish nickname.  “Call me that in public and I’ll tell your manly friends about the time you got stuck in the mud, when we were in Skye.”

“Point taken,” Percy said.  The old Percy would probably have shouted an insult ... but that Percy had died with their parents.  “But Penny, it really isn't safe here.”

“You don't make a reputation for covering safe places,” Penny pointed out, crossly.  “Or did you earn your medals for standing on guard outside Buckingham Palace?”

“That’s a different regiment,” Percy said, automatically.  “And they
earned
their medals when terrorists tried to storm Buckingham Palace.”

“You know what I mean,” Penny said, resisting a childish urge to stamp her foot.  What was it about being with her brother that brought out the worst in her?  She was a mature adult with a career of her own, not the fourteen-year-old brat who’d amused herself by scaring away Percy’s girlfriends.  “I need to do something spectacular to earn a reputation.”

Percy laughed.  “Well, you
do
realise that there are quite a few other reporters on the planet?”

“I have embedded myself with the ambassador’s party,” Penny countered.  She knew there would be meetings that excluded the press, but she’d have near-complete access otherwise.  “I should at least get a clean shot at a scoop or two.”

“Embed yourself with the planned visits to alien cities,” Percy suggested, sarcastically.  “You might learn things you didn't want to learn.”

He took a breath.  “How
is
your career?”

Penny winced.  She was a very junior reporter and, despite the protection of her name, she wasn't entirely immune to pressure from senior reporters and editors.  There were so few jobs available at any one time these days, after the bombardment, that few people were prepared to say no if their boss started putting unreasonable demands on them.  She had had a sneaking suspicion that she hadn't been promoted earlier because of her name, although she
had
received the coveted posting to Vesy.  But then, she had both aristocratic connections and a brother already stationed on the planet.