A Savage War Of Peace (Ark Royal Book 5) (24 page)

... And then she heard the chatter of helicopter blades.

***

“There she blows, sir,” the pilot said.

Percy nodded, grimly, as the alien buildings came into view.  It was easy, thanks to the transponders, to tell which one held the humans, but the surrounding buildings were lined with aliens, all carrying primitive weapons.  A handful even carried
human
weapons, although he couldn't tell if they were British, Russian or Indian.  They seemed to be staring at the chopper in disbelief, as if their minds refused to accept that something like it could actually fly.  But that would change ...

He cursed as he saw the aliens scrambling up the walls of the target building.  He’d been taught how to climb seemingly-impassable surfaces in basic training; the aliens, it seemed, had much the same training themselves.  Judging from the reports, all they’d need to do was get onto the roof to take the humans from the rear.  It couldn't be allowed.

“Warn them off,” he ordered.  He had the legal authority to engage the climbers, but he would prefer to avoid additional casualties.  “As loud as you can.”

The pilot keyed the mike.  “WE ARE TAKING OUR PEOPLE,” he said.  The racket was so deafeningly loud that several of the climbing aliens lost their grip and fell towards the ground, far below.  “LET US DEPART IN PEACE AND NO ONE WILL BE HARMED ...”

An arrow hit the side of the helicopter and splintered.  Moments later, alarms sounded as bullets started pinging off the aircraft’s armour.  Percy wasn't too worried - the helicopter had been designed with tougher enemies in mind - but the prospect of a lucky hit grew more and more acute with every second.  He pushed his concerns aside as the helicopter moved closer, bullets still slamming into the hull.  It wasn't going to end well when they opened the hatches ...

“Target the gunmen and return fire,” he ordered.  “Take them out.”

“Yes, sir,” the pilot said.  He tapped a switch and the helicopter’s machine guns opened fire, vaporising their targets.  Some of the aliens scattered; others, more disciplined, held their positions and kept firing until they too were picked off.  The weight of incoming fire slacked noticeably.  “Targets destroyed.”

“Take us down,” Percy ordered.  He keyed his radio.  “Sergeant, provide covering fire.”

His heartbeat started to race as the helicopter plunged towards the rooftop, creating a whole new problem.  Could the building take the weight?  He had no way of knowing.  The pilot held the craft just above the roof, then fired two more bursts towards a set of aliens who had been scrambling back into firing position.  Moments later, the hatch slammed open.

“Go, go, go,” Percy snapped, leading the way out of the craft.  The roof hatch was just in front of him, according to the reports.  “Move it!”

He reached the hatch and peered down into the darkness.  A Para - carrying a man slung over his shoulder - peered up at him, then practically jumped up onto the roof.  Behind him, Penny followed, looking completely terrified and yet grimly determined.  Percy thought, suddenly, of their mother, then caught her arm and shoved her towards the helicopter.  There was another hail of gunfire from the aliens and Penny dropped to the ground.  For a horrified moment, Percy thought she’d been hit, then realised she’d dropped down when she’d heard the firing.  He scooped her up, practically threw her into the helicopter, then waved up the remaining Paras.  They tossed grenades back down the stairs to cover their retreat as they reached the rooftop.

“Get into the helicopter,” Percy snapped.  “Hurry.”

Two aliens appeared on a nearby rooftop, carrying something that looked alarmingly like a small rocket launcher.  Percy didn't hesitate; he unslung his rifle and fired two rounds towards them, forcing the aliens to duck.  He didn't expect to hit anything, not without taking proper aim, but it should teach them to be more careful.  One of them dropped the launcher and it exploded, blowing both aliens off the roof.

The last of the Paras passed him as explosions shook the building.  Percy cursed again as he realised the helicopter was cramped, then motioned for three of his men to get inside.  He slammed the hatch closed as soon as they were in the craft, then jumped onto the skids and held onto the handles for dear life.  The pilot yanked the craft into the air as Percy secured himself to the hull with one hand, heading up and away from the city.  Percy forced himself to look down as the city fell away beneath him, a handful of rounds passing the craft before they were safely out of range.  He’d ridden on the outer hull before, in training exercises, but it had always given him the willies.

Next time, bring a bigger helicopter
, he told himself.  He would have laughed, if he hadn't been clinging to the side of the aircraft.  They hadn't had any time for proper planning and preparation.  Given how little warning they’d had, they’d done remarkably well to get in, complete the mission and get out before it was too late. 
Or maybe I should have brought fewer men
.

He snickered at the thought, then sobered.  They’d had their first major clash with the aliens since the fall of the God-King ... and who knew, really, what would happen next?

And where
, he added to himself,
did that rocket-launcher thingy come from
?

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You seem to be intact,” the doctor said.  “I recommend a change of clothes, but other than that ...”

Penny barely heard him.  Her entire body was shaking with fear and remembered horror.  It seemed as though she’d been far too close to death.  Somewhere along the line, she’d lost control of her bladder and wet herself ... and she hadn't even noticed.  It hadn't been until the doctor had started to examine her that she’d realised her crotch was soaking wet.

And to think I was bored
, she thought, bitterly. 

“It’s natural to be a little shaken after being in danger,” the doctor continued.  “Take the rest of the day off, if you like.”

“I don’t think much of your bedside manner,” Penny muttered.  She wrapped her arms around her chest in the hope it would stop the shaking.  “No words of false comfort?  No sweet nothings?  No pills?”

“I’m a military doctor,” the doctor pointed out, dryly.  “Soldiers don’t normally want words of false comfort and would probably try to hit me if I uttered sweet nothings.”

Penny had to smile, despite her nerves.  “What about the others?”

“Kun is currently in a drug-induced coma,” the doctor said.  “Two of the Paras got hit with stones, but their body armour coped admirably.  They have some bruises, which they will probably show off if you ask nicely, and not much else.  I believe they’re being debriefed now.”

“Oh,” Penny said.  She would have to see Hamish and his comrades again, if only to thank him for saving her life.  “Will I be debriefed too?”

“Probably,” the doctor said, “but I insisted on getting you and Kun some medical treatment before anything else happened.”

“It was his fault,” Penny recalled.  “Kun’s, I mean.  He straight up told them that their gods don’t exist.”

“Not the brightest thing to do,” the doctor agreed.  “Make that clear to the intelligence crew, when you speak to them.  They may already have preconceptions of just what happened.”

Penny nodded, then rubbed her shoulder.  Her recorder was gone, but she’d definitely had it in the helicopter; someone had probably taken it while she was in shock and handed it over to the intelligence crews.  It was quite likely her superiors would make a fuss, yet she found it hard to care.  The evidence needed to convict Kun of gross stupidity was on the recorder, after all.

There was a knock at the door.  “Come in,” the doctor said, after a brief glance at Penny.  “But this had better be important.”

The door opened and Percy stepped through, looking worried.  “Is she alright?”

“
She
can speak for herself,” Penny snapped, before the doctor could say a word.  “And she’s fine.”

“Just make sure you stay with someone else for the rest of the day, if you’re still shaking,” the doctor advised.  Penny glowered at him.  She knew who would want to spend the rest of the day with her.  “But physically, you’re fine.  I can prescribe sleeping tablets if you need them.”

“No, thank you,” Penny said.  She’d used them once or twice and they’d always left her feeling rather thick-headed the following morning.  She had the very definite impression that she would require all her wits around her when she was debriefed.  “I’m fine, really.”

She slipped off the table and down to the ground.  Her legs felt unsteady, for a moment, then she forced herself to stand upright properly.  Percy watched her, concerned, but she refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him.  The doctor nodded once, then turned back to his terminal and started to tap notes into the machine.  Penny was tempted to watch - she knew doctors often added things to their notes they never said out loud - but she didn't have the time.  Instead, she allowed Percy to lead her out of the room and into a small corridor.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Percy said, once they were alone.  “I’m ... I was desperately worried about you.”

“So was I,” Penny admitted.  The shakes were fading away, replaced by a warm awareness that she’d survived her first brush with real combat.  “Can we go back to my room so I can have a shower?”

Percy glanced at her, then nodded.  Thankfully, the corridors were largely empty; they barely saw anyone before they entered the new living block.  Penny allowed herself a moment of relief, then hurried into the communal shower and turned the water on.  It was, as always, lukewarm.  She’d hoped for a proper shower, but reporters were classed as somewhere below alien porters and biological threats.

“Go to my room,” she said, as she started to close the door.  “Get my robe from behind the door and bring it back here.”

She took a long moment to wash her body, rubbing her skin clean, then dried herself with one of the communal towels and took the robe Percy offered her.  It felt surprisingly warm against her bare skin, but she told herself it was just another effect of staying alive.  Percy smiled tiredly at her as she came out of the shower compartment, then led her back to her room.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now,” he said, flatly.

Penny scowled.  “Don’t you have somewhere to be,
Royal Marine
?”

“I’ve got my bleeper,” Percy said.  He tapped his belt, then leaned forward.  “And I - my entire section - have been told, in no uncertain terms, to remain here so we can be debriefed by the head sheds.  We’re not exactly withdrawn from the front lines, but it will be a long time before we’re called up again.”

“Oh,” Penny said. 

“We’re still defending you,” Percy added, mischievously.  “But we’re pretty much the last line of defence right now.”

Penny nodded, then led the way into her room.  It wasn't much; a cramped bed, a tiny washbasin and a set of drawers, but it was home as long as she stayed on Vesy.  A faint rattling sound could be heard as the air conditioner fought to keep the temperature at a reasonable level, losing the battle one step at a time.  She sat down on the bed, then shook her head in droll amusement.  Where the hell was Percy supposed to sit?

He solved that problem by sitting on the floor, then crossing his legs and peering up at the picture Penny had hung on the wall.  It had been taken seven years ago, before the war; their father and mother stood together, with their children between them.  Percy didn't look anything like as muscular as he did now, she had to admit, while she looked disgustingly cute.  Their mother had been fond of dressing Penny up whenever they went out together. 

“They still haven’t found the body,” she said, following his gaze.  “No one really knows what happened to her.”

Percy looked irked.  “I still haven’t been able to uncover the mystery of just what happened to our father, either,” he admitted.  “I thought you were going to crack the puzzle all by yourself.”

“The whole affair is cut and dried, as far as my editor is concerned,” Penny said.  “And the other person who might be able to tell us that we know, outside our work, is the same person who flatly refused to talk about it.”

“Admiral Fitzwilliam,” Percy said. 

Penny nodded, slowly.  Admiral Fitzwilliam had always treated them well, even though they weren’t his biological children, but there were some things he had refused to talk about, even to them.  If there was anyone who had a
right
to know what had happened on
Ark Royal’s
final flight, it was Percy and Penny ... unsurprisingly, that argument hadn't managed to unlock the Admiral’s lips.  He’d simply refused to discuss the matter at all.

“We’ll find out one day,” Percy said.  He looked up at her.  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to go back to the media ship and stay there?”

“No,” Penny said, flatly.  She smirked, then said the next words with malice aforethought.  “I owe Hamish a drink.”

Percy frowned.  “You’re going on a
date
with a Para?”

“It isn’t a date,” Penny protested.  “It’s a drink.”

“Not that there’s much else to do here,” Percy muttered.  “Look, I know how this is meant to go.  I’m meant to object hugely, which will encourage you to go on the date anyway, despite my misgivings.  So I won’t do anything of the sort.  In fact, I will tell you that Hamish is a wonderful man.”

“Thank you,” Penny said.  “So you won’t object to me going for a drink with him?”

Percy sighed as she started to giggle.  “Just make sure you don’t go until you’re feeling a bit more stable,” he warned.  “You're not in a good state for making decisions right now.”

“Tell me something,” Penny said.  “Would this explain some of your girlfriends?”

“Probably,” Percy muttered.  He pointed to the pillow, meaningfully.  “Get some sleep, Pen-Pen.  You need it.”

“I know,” Penny said.  She glanced at her watch, then frowned.  1445; it felt later, much later.  “You can go see to your men, if you like.  I won’t go anywhere until morning.”

***

“I’m not looking for recriminations,” Joelle said, as she glared around the office.  Grace, Colonel Boone, Mortimer and Professor Nordstrom looked back at her, while Captain Naiser was attending electronically.  “What I want to know is what happened and why.”

“The why is simple,” Mortimer said.  “We studied the records from Miss Schneider’s personal media device.  Kun, who clearly wasn't a great thinker, told the aliens, outright, that their gods did not exist.  They didn't take it too kindly.”

“Damn it,” Joelle snapped.  “What was he
thinking
?”

“Probably that it was his duty to bring the cold light of rationality to the comforting darkness of ignorance,” Professor Nordstrom said.  “Or so he claimed, on his Social Blog.  The Eminent Rationalists believe that religion held humanity back for years, wasting effort on crusades and jihads and wasting resources building temples to God we could have been using to develop ourselves.  They presumably feel that the Vesy suffer from the same problem.”

“And the Vesy got pissed,” Mortimer said.

“It’s worse than that,” Boone offered.  The Para leaned forward, grimly.  “They had to take refuge in what we assume was a birthing chamber.  Our xenospecialists believe that they lay the eggs, then leave them in the ground to ripen.  The battle will almost certainly have killed dozens of unborn children.  They won't take that very kindly either.”

He paused, then nodded to Professor Nordstrom.

“It’s impossible to be sure until we hear from them,” the Professor said, “but there’s a very strong possibility that children of aristocrats, religious personalities and other people of importance were killed.  It would make sense, we think, for most Vesy to lay their eggs at home, rather than place them in a birthing chamber.”

“We do have maternity wards,” Joelle pointed out.

“I don’t think it’s the same,” Professor Nordstrom said.  “Our children are completely helpless when they come out of the womb.  Their children are already quite tough when they break out of the egg and fight their way to the surface.”

Joelle shivered, feeling a moment of pity for the infant aliens.  The idea of being buried alive was one of humanity’s worst nightmares, but the Vesy were practically born in the soil.  Maybe they liked the idea of having them all born in one place, or maybe it was designed to allow the children to impress on one another, to become familiar with their scent before their parents arrived to collect them.  Scent was important to the Vesy; indeed, it was quite possible that one city’s population would smell quite different to another city’s population. 

They may have problems understanding us because we don’t smell right
, she thought, morbidly. 
Or they may never be able to create proper nation-states because the larger the group, the less communal the smell.

She shuddered, then pushed the thought aside.  “So we have a major crisis on our hands,” she said.  “How do you propose we deal with it?”

“Give Kun to the Vesy,” Mortimer said.  “Let them do as they please with him.”