The Trafalgar Gambit (Ark Royal) (48 page)

“I think they will be fine,” Ted said.  He frowned at her doubtful expression.  “They will have to come to terms with losing a father, of course, but they won’t suffer because of his mistake.”

“I hope you’re right, sir,” Rose said.  “What will happen now?”

Ted studied her for a long moment.  Starfighter pilots lived fast and burned out early, unless they saw the writing on the wall and transferred to other duties before it was too late.  The certainty of death or the loss of everything that made life worthwhile had eventually driven her into her lover’s arms.  And now ...

He sighed  Rose’s life had changed over the course of the mission, confronting her with the prospect of losing her career ... and then losing a lover.  At least they hadn't broken up, the romantic in Ted thought, even though he knew it was absurd.  She’d merely watched him being marched off to his death instead.  There was no way that wouldn't leave a scar.

“You will resume your duties,” he ordered, reluctantly.  He’d have to recall Prince Henry from the surface too, just to have someone who could take her place, if necessary.  “If we manage to get back to Earth without further ado, you will be able to make some judgements and decisions about your future then.  I would advise you to consider a permanent transfer to the Academy” –
if they’ll take you
, his thought added silently – “or another division.”

She didn't argue.  She didn't even look angry at his suggestion.  And
that
was worrying.

“Yes, sir,” she said, instead.  “Will there be a service for him?”

“There will,” Ted said.  He paused, then leaned forward.  “Commander ... the starfighter pilots on this ship have never lost a commander before now.  You will need to work with them, to keep them busy ... they can't be allowed to brood.  And I can't allow you to brood either.”

“I understand, sir,” Rose said.  She looked up, meeting his eyes.  “What will you tell his children?”

“That their father died bravely,” Ted said.  It wasn't, technically, his job to write the letter to the next-of-kin, but he might make an exception in this case.  “I wasn't planning to go into details.”

“Yes, sir,” Rose said.  “Thank you, sir.”

Ted was tempted to ask what, if anything, Commander Schneider’s children had known of the affair, but he held his tongue.  Instead, he took one final look at her, then started to walk towards the hatch.  And then he turned back.

“Get a shower, Commander, then dress in a clean uniform and get out there,” he ordered.  “I wish I had time to let you rest, but I have none.  The war may not be over.”

“Aye, sir,” Rose said.  She stood, reluctantly.  “I’ll do my duty.”

“
That
has never been in doubt,” Ted said. 

He smiled, humourlessly.  The investigators might disagree, but
he
hadn’t been able to find any signs that Kurt Schneider had pulled strings on his lover’s behalf.  Rose hadn't been promoted at his command.  She’d earned her rank, as far as Ted could tell.  But then, almost all of the survivors of their first mission had been promoted.  Rose was merely one of a handful who had stayed with
Ark Royal
. 

“I know it isn't easy to lose a loved one,” he added.  Others might be able to visit a counsellor, but how could Rose when her affair had been thoroughly illicit?  “If you need to talk, Commander, you may talk to me.”

He nodded to her, then turned and strode out of the hatch.

“Do you think,” Henry asked as he stumbled down the muddy path, “that they do this on purpose?”

“I think they're just as uncomfortable as we are,” Ambassador Melbourne said.  “Just for different reasons.”

Henry snorted, rudely.  The alien mainland was a rainforest, the trees pressing so close to the diplomatic chambers that the only way anyone could walk was through the paths the aliens had cut through the foliage with fusion torches.  The whole island was infested with insects, which buzzed endlessly in the background, and spider-like creatures that showed no fear of humanity.  Their bites weren't poisonous, thankfully, but they tended to itch terribly until one of the medics found a treatment that worked.  Even so, he reflected as sweat dripped off his bare back, he would be glad to return to orbit.  There were certain people who should never be allowed to wear swimsuits or bathing costumes. 

Least of all diplomats
, he thought, sourly.  The thought of turning up to a diplomatic meeting on Earth clad in a swimsuit or bikini was absurd, but it made sense on the alien world.  Few of the diplomats could wear suits and ties for long in the heat, even if they weren’t ruined to exposure to sweat and water.  But it didn't make them look any more attractive.  Some of them really needed to cover up.

He kept his opinion to himself as the jungle came to an end, revealing a path leading down to the water’s edge.  This time, the aliens hadn't invited them to a city, but to a lagoon that reminded him of Jill’s description of First Contact.  Hundreds of aliens were swimming in the water, surfacing briefly like dolphins at play before diving back under the waves.  Henry checked he still had his mask on his belt as Ambassador Melbourne led the way down to the water, stopping just on the edge of the beach.  The aliens made gestures that needed no translation. 

Come on in
, Henry thought, feeling a sudden spurt of affection for the playful creatures. 
The water’s fine
.

He walked into the water until it was waist deep, then halted as the aliens surged around him, swimming alarmingly close with no regard for his personal space.  But then, they were an intensely social race, he reminded himself.  They probably had no conception of personal space, let alone any of the problems that had caused humanity to invent the concept in the first place.  He forced himself to keep his face impassive as the smell of so many aliens in close proximity grew stronger.  Did the aliens, he wondered absently, find humanity as smelly as humans found them?

The aliens scattered, suddenly, as five more aliens surfaced and swam towards the two humans in a calm, measured fashion that Henry found somewhat ominous.  He’d seen the aliens practically dancing through the water, moving in a manner that reminded him of penguins at the zoo, but now they seemed frighteningly serious.  He shivered, despite the warm water, as he recalled the events in orbit.  The report hadn't been as clear as he would have wished – it was clear the writer feared the aliens might try to intercept the transmission – yet it had been thoroughly alarming.  An attack on the alien-settled world had been narrowly averted.

It could restart the war
, Henry thought.  They hadn't even come to a final agreement before the Russians had tried to restart the war.  They might not even have fared too badly in the final settlement, given the way the aliens kept changing their demands.  But it hardly mattered now. 
We might be back at war within the week
.

“We greet you,” the lead alien said.  As always, the voice was chillingly atonal, betraying no trace of emotion.  “There was fighting in our system between humans.  Explain.”

Ambassador Melbourne splashed forward through the water until he could look the alien right in the eye.  Henry silently admired his pluck.  As much as he’d seen of the aliens since his capture, he still found it hard to look right into their oversized eyes.  They were very far from human, he knew, and the sense of inhuman intelligence looking back at him was chilling.  The aliens simply didn't
think
like humans.

“One of our factions objected to the peace terms,” the Ambassador said.  They’d agreed, previously, that they would tell some of the truth if the aliens asked.  No one had expected they wouldn't be concerned about the incident, even if it had taken them two days to agree to call the humans for an interview.  “They attempted to take control of our ship and attack your world.  We stopped them.”

The aliens, as one, ducked below the waves.  Henry silently counted nearly ten minutes before their heads broke the surface again.  This time, he was almost sure, it was a different alien facing the human ambassadors.  But, as always, it was very hard to be
certain
.

“You have factions of your own?”  The alien asked.  “What do they stand for?”

Henry and Ambassador Melbourne exchanged glances.  How did one explain the concept of
nations
and
nationality
to a race that possessed neither.  The alien factions were based around ideas and concepts, not birthplace.  It was true, Henry suspected, that someone born into a faction would always remain
part
of the faction to some extent, but their opinions might change as they grew older.  Or when they were exposed to new ideas.

“Our factions are based on birthplace,” Ambassador Melbourne said, finally.  It was as good an explanation as any, under the circumstances.  “This faction disliked the idea of surrendering New Russia to you.”

The aliens ducked back under the surface.  This time, they returned within moments.

“This issue must be debated,” the lead alien said.  “We will call you when a consensus has been reached.”

That
sounded more than a little ominous, Henry decided, as the aliens dropped back under the waves and vanished.  Even the more playful aliens they’d encountered at the start had disappeared below the water.  He stared over the surface for a long moment, wondering just how many aliens there were under the sea, then turned and made his way out of the water and up onto the beach.  Ambassador Melbourne followed him a moment later.

“Creepy,” the Ambassador commented, suddenly.

Henry followed his gaze 
Something
was moving along the beach.  For a moment, he thought it was an optical illusion, a mirage caused by the heat and water droplets in the air, for it looked like a beach towel crawling over the sand.  And then he saw that it was made of hundreds of thousands of spiders, making their way in unison towards the water.  A shiver ran down his spine as he stared at them in disbelief.  There was nothing like that on Earth.

“Another form of alien intelligence,” the Ambassador mused.  He didn't seem scared, merely curious.  “Do you think they might become intelligent, one day?”

“Would we even recognise them as intelligent?”  Henry asked.  He’d read novels where the enemy were intelligent spiders – or creatures so alien that any form of communication was completely impossible.  “Would they recognise us as anything more than a food source?”

The Ambassador shrugged.  “I’ve negotiated with religious fanatics who think we have no right to exist,” he said, as he turned and walked back to the path.  “They’re always difficult to do more than threaten, then carry out the threats if they refuse to listen to reason.  Spider-aliens might not be too difficult after dealing with fanatics.”

He didn't say anything else until they were back in the diplomatic compound and one of the Marines had swept the compartment for bugs.  The aliens had been remarkably considerate about not trying to bug the diplomats, Henry had seen, although he had a private suspicion that nothing ever remained secret among the aliens for long.  There were just too many aliens changing their allegiance from one faction to another without anyone trying to stop them.  He had a feeling the aliens had no concept of a security clearance either.

Maybe it works for them
, he thought.  He couldn’t deny that the aliens had built their own spacefaring empire, fully humanity’s equal. 
But it wouldn’t work for us
.

“The aliens may find the idea of one of our factions attacking them worrying,” the Ambassador said.  “Or they may feel that the peace treaty wouldn't be kept.”

Henry understood.  If the Russians had tried to attack the aliens, what was to stop them from trying again and again.  And what would the aliens do then?  Restart the war?  Or demand that the rest of humanity prevent the Russians from launching further attacks, something that might prove impossible without war?  Hell, given time, the aliens might use the situation to their own advantage.  A humanity permanently at war with itself wouldn't be able to prevent the aliens from quietly settling vast tracts of interstellar real estate.