A Small Colonial War (Ark Royal Book 6) (36 page)

Lillian took a moment to think, putting her words in order.  “The Indians took considerable precautions to prevent atrocities,” she said, “or even simple harassment.  We - all the women on the colony - were told to report any soldier who tried to grope us, let alone rape us.  I think they were serious, because they actually kept a distance from us when we weren't being put to work.  We wouldn't have been able to put that transmitter together if they’d watched us constantly.”

Alpha met her eyes.  “And your point?”

“Murdering surrendered POWs isn't much better than raping civilians,” Lillian said.  “Why would they take precautions against one while happily committing the other?”

“They may have considered it a disciplinary issue,” Beta suggested.  “Troops who harass local women might not be very good for hammering the enemy, when the time comes to actually fight.”

Lillian cleared her throat.  “I’ve told you all I
know
,” she said, tartly.  “What other questions do you have?”

“The Indian commander,” Alpha said.  “What’s your impression of him?”

“I’ve only seen him a few times,” Lillian warned.  “I always had the impression he didn't like us very much, but he could have been trying to present an aggressive facade.”

“Perhaps,” Alpha mused.  “Do you think he would see sense and surrender?”

“I don't know,” Lillian said.  Was there actually a point to the question?  “I certainly couldn't tell you anything for sure.”

It didn't get better as Alpha and Beta - the third man said nothing, merely watched - bounced question after question off her.  Sometimes, they repeated themselves; sometimes, they asked the same question in a different way.  Lillian suspected the SAS had done a better job of extracting information from her; they, at least, had understood that she wouldn't know everything, even though she’d been living on Clarke for nearly a year.  By the time Alpha finally called a halt, her head was pounding savagely.

“You’ll be shipped back to the carrier this evening,” Alpha informed her.  “Your legal status will be sorted out after the war, according to the Colonel, but you won’t suffer from being taken off the moon now.  It was not your choice, was it?”

“No, sir,” Lillian said.  She took a breath.  “Can I see Percy again, before I go?”

Alpha and Beta exchanged glances.  “He’s currently sleeping,” Alpha said, after a moment.  “But if you wish to record a message, you may do so.”

Lillian nodded.  “Thank you, sir.”

***

“I believe there’s nothing to be gained by remaining on the ship,” Penny said.  “Please could I be attached to the Royal Marines?”

Captain Naiser hesitated, noticeably.  “I
am
detaching my marines to join the forces on the surface,” he said, “now there’s a reasonably secure landing site. 
However
, your safety cannot be guaranteed.”

“I thought that was always true,” Penny said, waspishly.  Stevenson had evidently agreed; he’d managed to wrangle a transfer from
Warspite
to
Theodore Smith
once the major confrontation was over and she hadn't heard anything from him since.  “I could have been killed in the last engagement.”

“You wouldn't be targeted specifically,” Captain Naiser said.  He looked at her for a long moment.  “Have you run this brainstorm past
Major
Hadfield?”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said.  There was no point in trying to lie.  “He told me that I could be attached to his unit, provided I stayed out of the way.”

“There’s no specific provision for reporters on the surface,” the captain warned.  “You might find yourself helping to carry weapons and supplies.”

Penny nodded.  The days when reporters had been neutral observers were long over - if they’d ever truly existed at all.  She’d been warned, more than once, that
some
parties considered reporters their natural enemy and targeted them specifically.  Terrorists, in particular, loathed reporters for being honest about their atrocities.  And, being young and female, her chances of survival if she fell into their hands were minimal.

“I understand, sir,” she said.  “I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Then you may join the marines on their shuttle,” the captain said.  “Just bear in mind that Major Hadfield
is
in charge.  If he says jump, I expect you to be up in the air before asking how high.”

“Yes, sir,” Penny said.  She didn't doubt that the Major was in charge for a moment.  “I won’t forget.”

***

“So there’s no hope of an internal uprising?”

“No, sir,” Captain Stryker’s hologram said.  “The colonists are unarmed.  They might get a few blows in, but the Indians are quite solidly established.  The colonists would be slaughtered if they tried to rise up.”

“I see,” James said.  He looked at Colonel Boone’s hologram.  “Are you ready to advance?”

“Yes, sir,” Boone said.  “We’ve landed the Royal Marines and 3 Para; our point detachments are already taking up position along the direct route to the colony.  The Indians have not, so far, attempted to challenge us.”

“So they’re conserving their strength?”  James asked.  “Or planning a counterattack?”

“Unknown,” Boone said.  “We did trade fire with a handful of patrols - we think they were trying to get eyeballs on us - but they beat feet when we engaged them.  I think we will be ready to move our main force within seven hours, perhaps less.  Logistics are a pain in the ass” - he shrugged - “but when are they ever anything else?”

“Never,” James said.  He met the colonel’s eyes.  “They haven’t responded to my message, Colonel.  If they were planning to surrender, you’d think they’d do it by now.”

“Unless they’re planning to make a last stand,” Boone said.  “They
have
built up quite a network of defences, sir.  Breaking through them would be costly in the absence of orbital bombardment.”

James nodded.  “You have tactical command, Colonel,” he said, firmly.  There was no point in trying to direct operations himself, not from the giant supercarrier.  “You know the objective.  Give the bastards hell.”

“Yes, sir,” Boone said.  “They
could
be hoping for reinforcements - or relief.”

“I know,” James said. 

He glanced at the display.  The tramline leading to Vesy remained undisturbed, but who knew how long that would last?  There was another enemy carrier on the far side, with a handful of undamaged escorts.  It wouldn't be too hard for the Indians to bring her into the Pegasus System and try to reverse the verdict of the last engagement.

“Finish it as quickly as you can, commensurate with protecting the lives of the colonists,” he said.  “We may not have much time.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Clarke III, Pegasus System

“They’re definitely advancing towards our position,” the operator warned.  “We were unable to get a team close to their landing zone, even in the blizzard.”

Vasanta nodded, curtly.  The British had definitely planned the operation carefully.  They’d already managed to unload at least two thousand soldiers, all prepared for fighting in the inhospitable climate.  He still had them outnumbered, but he was pinned down by the need to defend the colony against their attack.  Deploying even a smaller force to engage them would make it harder to hold out.

“Let them come into artillery range,” he ordered, finally.  There was no way to avoid a brutal encounter that would probably end badly, but at least he could bleed them.  “And pull back the outer patrols.  Let them come right to the edge of the pre-targeted zone.”

“Yes, sir,” the operator said.

“And make sure the colonists remain under firm control,” Vasanta added.  They’d already been herded into the main hall and told to stay there, under pain of death.  “We don’t want any trouble in the rear.”

***

“Welcome back, Percy,” Drake said.

Percy nodded.  “I was surprised you wanted me,” he said.  The SAS didn’t
need
him any longer, not now they’d been on the moon themselves for two months.  “I was expecting to be ordered into the manpower pool.”

“We couldn't do that to you,” Jimmy said, dryly.  “Besides, we still need to clear those observation posts on the mountains.  It’s all hands on deck.”

Drake cleared his throat.  “The Donkey Wallopers” - the Royal Artillery - “have been setting up long-range guns behind the perimeter,” he said.  “We’re going to close with the enemy posts and call down fire to obliterate them.  Not particularly glamorous, I must admit, but something we can actually do.”

Percy smiled in understanding.  The SAS troopers
hated
the thought of going to the rear and doing nothing, even though they’d been relieved by 6 Troop.  Drake had probably complained to his superior until the team had been given something to do - and, he had to admit, it was something that had to be done.  The Indian observation posts were a deadly threat to the advancing force.

“I’m ready,” he said.  “When do we go?”

“Grab your suit and weapons,” Drake ordered.  “We’re going to be borrowing an ATV for the first part of the journey; they’ll let us off near the mountains.”

“Hopefully not
too
close,” Lewis said.  “The Indians will be watching for us.”

“True,” Drake said.  He threw Percy a sharp glance.  “What are you waiting for, Percy?  Grab your shit and let’s go!”

***

Penny wasn't sure what she’d expected from the landing zone.  She’d been on three military bases in her time - four, if one counted Fort Knight on Vesy - and they’d all struck her as organised chaos.  The landing zone was, if anything, even worse: a handful of vehicles, half-buried in the snow, dozens of shuttles landing, unloading and taking off and hundreds of soldiers in armoured suits being rounded up and moved to the jump-off points.  She was so confused, just
looking
at the scene, that it was a relief when one of Colonel Boone’s officers met her and led the way to the Colonel’s command vehicle.  Inside, she could remove her helmet and relax, slightly.

“This isn't quite what I’d prefer,” Boone admitted, when he saw her.  “If I had a completely free choice, I’d prefer to command the operation from a hole in the ground, but ... well, I need the vehicle.”

“Thank you,” Penny said.  She had the nasty feeling the Indians would have thrown a missile at the command vehicle if they’d been able to locate it.  It was an unpleasant thought, but there was no way she could go back to
Warspite
now.  “I’ll just stand against the wall and say nothing.”

Boone surprised her by smiling.  “I’ve already issued the orders,” he said, as two of his aides hurried out of the compartment.  “All I can do now is wait and see what happens.”

Penny blinked.  “You're not going to command the battle?”

“From here, it would be micromanaging,” Boone said.  He shrugged.  “I can set overall priorities, and the overall engagement plan, but not steer each individual unit.”

He pointed to the wall-mounted display.  “Do you know how to read a military map?”

“No, sir,” Penny said.  It wasn't entirely true, but it was better to have him explain it to her in tedious detail rather than miss an important point.  Besides, in her experience, men liked explaining things to women.  It made them feel useful.  “What’s happening?”

“My advance forces - a handful of Paras - are probing towards the edge of the Indian defences,” Boone said.  “They’ve been digging trenches and emplacing heavy weapons in a dozen locations, each one a potential hazard to my forces.  However, we don’t know how many of them are actually
manned
.  We may not know until our forces come into range and the Indians open fire.”

Penny shivered.  Inside the command vehicle, where it was warm and dry, it was hard to remember that the soldiers were forced to fight in a poisonous atmosphere.  The merest rip or tear in their suits would kill them, if they didn't manage to patch it quickly enough.  Merely being outside for a few minutes had been bad enough; she felt a flicker of sympathy for the men who had to march, fight and
sleep
in their suits.  She really
didn't
want to think about the plumbing.

“Our follow-up forces will advance slowly towards the colony,” Boone added, drawing out a line on the map.  “Unfortunately, our approach route is far too predictable; there simply aren't many paths that can handle our vehicles.  Once we isolate the manned defensive bunkers and take out the observation posts, we’ll secure the high ground and ready ourselves for the final assault on the colony.”

“The colony doesn't look very big,” Penny observed.  “Or am I missing something?”

“Most of it is below the ground,” Boone noted.  “But you’re right.  It isn't a very big colony, certainly nowhere near the size of Luna City.  It will be a major headache if we have to storm it ...”

“The colonists might be killed in the crossfire,” Penny realised.

“Correct,” Boone said.  His voice was flat, but Penny was sure she could hear a note of horror buried within his tone.  “I’m hoping the Indians will see sense and surrender before it gets to that point.  They’re not terrorists; they’ll be treated as POWs and returned to their people, once the war is over.”

“And they’re trapped,” Penny said.  “Aren't they?”

“Unless they have something completely new buried under the ice, yes they’re trapped,” Boone said.  He jabbed a finger at the map.  “
That
... is the very definition of an untenable position.  They can't withdraw, they can't hold out long enough to be relieved and if we have to storm the complex hundreds of innocent civilians will be hurt or killed.”

Penny eyed him.  “If you were in that position,” she said, “what would
you
do?”

Boone hesitated.  “Surrender, probably,” he said, finally.  “Maybe, if there was something to be gained by holding out, I’d resist, but here there’s literally
nothing
.  India’s reputation will take a beating - another beating - if the settlers get killed.  Their best bet would be to concede defeat and throw in the towel.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then we have to beat them,” Boone said, briskly.  He glanced at a console as a red icon popped into existence.  “And now they’re starting to fire back.”

***

The Indian observation post didn't look like
much
, but Percy had the uncomfortable feeling he would have missed it if he’d come to the mountains blind.  It was nothing more than a small tent, half-buried in the snow; the camouflage netting concealed the handful of Indians inside from orbital surveillance.  But it was too far up the mountain for the SAS to approach without being detected.

“Get target lock,” Drake ordered.

Percy pointed the laser at a spot just behind the observation post, careful not to let the laser beam rest on the observation post itself.  The laser beam was invisible to the naked eye, but the Indians might have rigged their netting to react if someone shone a laser beam at their position.  He took a long moment to make sure it was firmly in place, then nodded to Drake.

“Target locked, sir,” he said.  He’d been told that the SAS microburst transmitters were almost undetectable - and there were a handful of EW satellites in orbit broadcasting random signals to make it harder for the Indians to track the British troops - but it was still better to keep their transmissions to a bare minimum.  “Ready.”

Drake sent the signal.  Percy gritted his teeth and kept a sharp eye on the laser, knowing that the long-range guns had already fired a salvo of shells towards their location.  The Indians
might
have a set of guns of their own ready to fire a counterbattery, but it was already too late to save their outpost.  Moments later, the first shell splashed down on top of the laser pointer and exploded, destroying the observation point.  The remaining four were nothing more than overkill.

“Target destroyed,” Drake sent.  “No survivors; I say again, no survivors.”

The team hurried forward, slipping up the mountain and watching carefully for other Indian positions.  Shellfire flared out in the distance; the Indians, it seemed, were trying to shell the British positions, while the British were hastily returning the favour.  Percy tried to keep track of the battle through the brief snippets he heard over the command network, even as they clambered into a place where they could call down more fire on Indian positions.  It
sounded
as though the Indians were being driven back ...

“They have to be mad,” he muttered to himself.  The latest report informed him that the light tanks were making their way through the pass.  They’d be at the colony itself within hours if the Indians didn't manage to stop them.  “They can't win.”

“They may intend to claw us thoroughly as they go down,” Drake muttered back.  Another round of shells screeched overhead, coming down amidst the Indian position.  “Or they’re simply reluctant to surrender as long as they have something to fight with.”

Percy shuddered, watching the remains of another Indian outpost.  A soldier was lying on the ground, his suit torn open, his body twitching frantically.  There was nothing they could do for him, even if they'd been close enough to intervene.  He’d already breathed far too much of the poisonous atmosphere.  A handful of his comrades, who had clearly been on patrol before the shells slammed down, were making their escape, heading back to the colony.  They probably knew as well as he did, Percy reasoned, that there was no real hope of holding out, but where else could they go?  It wasn't as if they were on Earth.

They’ll run out of air sooner rather than later
, he thought, savagely.  The SAS had had problems extracting a breathable atmospheric mix and
they’d
prepared specifically for Clarke. 
If they run off into the wild, we might stumble across the bodies a hundred years from now
.

***

“They’re trying to make a stand at the pass,” Boone observed.  Penny had slipped to the rear of the vehicle as his aides returned, but he kept tossing comments her way.  She had a private feeling that they actually helped to gather
his
thoughts, yet it was hard to care.  All of her observations would be going into her post-war book.  “We’re going to need to clear the way before we can proceed.”

He glanced at one of his aides.  “Inform the Royal Marines I expect them to move up to support the Paras, then start planning a heavy bombardment of the Indian trenches,” he ordered.  His tone admitted of no doubts about the outcome.  “I want them smashed flat before we advance.”

“Aye, sir,” the aide said.

Penny nodded to herself.  The Indian outer defence line was already being weakened; now, they’d break through and ram their way towards the colony itself.  And then ... she’d never been particularly religious, not after the floods that had battered her country, killed her mother and forced her to flee to a refugee camp, but now she found herself praying that the Indians would see sense and surrender.  They couldn't hold out for long.