Allied Powers, page 12
“It’s that whole stiff-upper-lip thing,” I told him, hopping up from the copilot’s seat. “And look, there’s the limo, right on time.”
“It looks more like a bus than a limo,” Julie said, tilting her head in a slight shrug. And she was right, though it actually looked more like a cargo van. It was black and long and we didn’t have to walk, so I was ready to call it a limo.
“You want me to suit up?” Quinn asked, jerking a thumb back at the storage compartment where we’d stowed the Svalinn units. “Come along as your security detail?”
“Naw, I think we can trust these guys,” I said. Then chuckled humorlessly. “Unless they’ve had a coup since we left and there’s a firing squad waiting for us at the palace.”
Julie gave me a pained look.
“Why’d you have to go there? With the way our luck has gone, now I’m gonna be looking over my shoulder the whole ride.”
“Just stay here then, keep an eye on the ship?” Quinn was being the good soldier, but he’d spent as much time cooped up on this boat as the rest of us and I wasn’t about to make him sit in here while we were grounded.
“Naw, just strap on a sidearm and come along,” I said. “Oh, and bring a bag with a change of clothes and our toilet kits. I gotta admit, I’m really hoping they give us a chance to take a shower.”
13
“I must admit,” King Richard VIII said, raising his glass of wine in a toast, “when last we parted, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, nor for our next visit to be just the three of you in that strange craft.”
Dinner was laid out before us on the long, polished, wood table, meat and vegetables steaming on their ceramic serving dishes while the King’s retinue waited to attend to us if we needed it. I hadn’t expected it to take so long for Richard to see us, but the delay had given us plenty of time to unwind and clean up. We’d been shown to our rooms in the guest wing of the palace, either one of which was bigger than my old house in Vegas, and thank God above, we’d had the chance to take baths. Hot water had never felt so glorious.
Major Tramplemain had come to fetch us for dinner, dressed in his formal uniform and newly promoted, and I would have thought he was angry at us except that was the way he always acted. He sat at the near end of the table next to the King, eating his food with abandon but not yet touching his wine, while I felt incredibly out of place in combat utilities next to the fancy dress of the Croatoans.
I’d expected the two of them, and perhaps a political appointee or member of their version of the House of Commons in a long, black formal coat and top hat. What I hadn’t expected was Richard’s wife. The queen consort, not the queen…Julie had to explain to me what the difference was, and from what I gathered, it had to do with the lack of royal bloodline. Queen consort Anne was, not to be too sexist or anything, drop-dead gorgeous, so I doubt Richard cared too much about the bloodline. She had a lot of the Croatan tribe in her high cheekbones and dark eyes, and the blend of those with the classical English features was more breathtaking than any runway model back home. Don’t tell Julie I said that.
We hadn’t met her or many females at all on our previous visits, because politics, according to the Croatoans, was men’s work. They might look like the 1960s UK, but they more resembled 1860s Great Britain when it came to attitudes towards women.
I returned King Richard’s toast and took a polite sip of my wine, even though I couldn’t stand the stuff.
“Things have taken a turn back home,” I told him. I’d debated for long hours how much I would share with him of our predicament, but we’d been straight with each other so far and there didn’t seem to be any point in changing things. “It’s the Bugs. We just finished a war with the Tevynians a year ago and that scared everyone pretty good, but it ended quickly and we won…and the Tevynians are human. If we’d lost to them, they would have dominated us politically, but they wouldn’t have killed us all. The Bugs genocide species and depopulate planets. A lot of our political leaders are panicking and…there’s been a coup.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Anne said, surprising me again. “You’re here rather than there, fighting them, so I assume things haven’t gone well?”
I must have been staring because Julie kicked me hard in the ankle under the table and I stifled a pained grunt.
“The conspirators,” I answered, trying to get my thoughts together and trying not to bend over and rub my ankle, “managed to arrest our military commanders when they were away from their ships and troops. They don’t have the loyalty of the military, but most of the troops won’t act without orders, so things are at a stalemate. I left people I trust in charge of trying to set things right, but we didn’t just have one threat…we have to deal with the Bugs. If they swarm over Earth while we’re fighting each other, we’ll all be dead, no matter who’s in charge.”
“And that’s your mission?” Tramplemain asked. “To find a way to stop the Bugs?”
He sounded skeptical, though it was hard to tell with Tramplemain. The head of the Royal Guard had the demeanor of a Royal Marine Sgt-Major, which included an expression that was perennially disapproving, as if always asking what stupid-ass thing I’d done now.
“We know someone who has the answers,” Julie told him. “Or something. Graham, the computer AI in the Dyson sphere. If we can convince him to talk, we can at least gain some useful intelligence.”
“We know more about computer technology now, thanks to you,” Richard said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I confess, much of it is beyond my experience, as my studies have been more in military leadership and civil engineering. But I’m the king.” The corner of his mouth turned up in amusement that seemed very self-aware for someone of his station. “Which means I can afford the best tutors money can buy, and I had a vested interest in understanding the knowledge you left for us. And if I do understand correctly, then neither you nor your allies, the Helta, from whom you acquired some of this technology, really know much about what you call sentient artificial intelligence. Is this correct?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I admitted. “We were researching the subject pretty heavily, but we’d only taken baby steps by the time the Helta arrived, and they consider the whole notion to be blasphemous for some reason. We think maybe the Elders told them so, or discouraged them from developing the technology.”
“In that case, Andy,” he said, motioning for one of the servants to refill his glass, “how do you plan on convincing this Graham to go against what he told you was his programming and give you information he refused to share before?”
Quinn suddenly found the remains of his dinner on his plate intensely interesting, while Julie offered me a helpless shrug. Great. Just because I was good at thinking on my feet didn’t mean I actually knew what I was talking about.
“I’m not sure. But when I was speaking to Graham the last time, I got the impression that he was either a mind very much like a human—or humanoid—one, or else he’d been programmed to act that way for us. I’m not a computer engineer or anything, but I’m pretty damn good at talking people into shit.” I nodded toward Julie. “I mean, I managed to convince her to marry me, against all odds.”
That sparked a general chuckle, which was what I’d intended. Like I said, pretty good at talking.
“Julie,” Anne said, and Julie’s eyebrow shot up. Anne smiled, face reddening. “My apologies…should I call you Colonel?”
“No, your highness,” Julie assured her. “We’re all friends here.”
“Then call me Anne,” the woman insisted, and the shift in her demeanor told me she’d intended to break the ice between them the whole time and had never actually been embarrassed. “Julie, then. I find your status fascinating. Your people allow women in the military, and at high positions. How well does this work for you?”
Quinn made a sound like a cat choking out a hairball and I suppressed a snort of laughter at his discomfort. Julie shot him a dirty look before rewarding the queen consort with a warm smile.
“There’ve been some teething pains. We had to figure out where females could contribute the most, and some people still argue about whether women should be allowed to serve as infantry soldiers.” She shrugged. “I didn’t believe they should, since most women don’t have the upper body strength of most men, but now, it’s almost irrelevant because the Svalinn armor makes that sort of thing a moot point. I served as a fighter pilot, and I was a damned good one. Women can withstand more acceleration than men and if our reflexes are maybe a hair slower, it’s close enough that the averages even out across sexes.” Julie eyed King Richard. “I know it would take quite some time for your military to allow women in combat roles—it took us a couple centuries before we were ready for that. But they can serve in non-physical roles that require intelligence and communications skills. Women have excelled in intelligence roles on our world, for example. I’m sure you’d agree that your wife is sufficiently clever and insightful to analyze intelligence.”
“Of course,” Richard agreed, smiling thinly, as if he didn’t appreciate being lectured by foreigners but was too polite to say so. “But fortunately for us, we lack the political divisions your planet seems to be rife with.”
Well, now they did. I knew from the scuttlebutt Pops found out last time we were there that there’d been some serious racial tensions between the English and Croatan factions when they first came here.
“Which brings us back to the problem at hand,” Tramplemain put in, glowering at me as if all this were my fault. “Your people are divided, your military is useless for the moment…and we are alone. Not quite defenseless, but certainly lacking the technology that could take on the Bugs. Where does that leave us?”
I licked my lips and took another sip of wine, mostly to put off answering.
“Okay. Some other things have changed.” I tapped a fingertip against the crystal of the glass, the impact pinging musically. “The Tevynians are now our allies.”
“Those people you just fought a war against?” Anne asked, eyes going wide. Richard said nothing, arms folded across his chest, regarding me the way my father had when I’d asked him if he and Mom were going to buy me a car.
“Their society is different than yours or ours. It’s deeply based on personal loyalty and prowess in battle. If you defeat them in a war, you earn their respect. Not as a society, but on a personal level.” I trailed off, but Julie took up the thread, apparently sensing I was embarrassed to go on.
“The High King of Tevynia has a bromance going on with my husband,” she said drily. She was rewarded with blank looks. The Croatoans might speak English, but not 21st-century American English. Julie sighed and rephrased. “He thinks of Andy as having personally defeated the Tevynian armed forces, and now his loyalty and, perhaps more importantly, his niece’s loyalty…”
“She’s the admiral of his fleet,” I interjected quickly before anyone got the wrong idea.
“…is to Andy,” Julie finished, miming applause.
“She’s leaving out the part,” I added, “where we helped them obtain nine star cruisers after the Bugs wiped out the entire Chamblisi civilization. Now they have over a dozen and they’re willing to use them to help us, as long as it doesn’t put their own planets at risk.”
“Help you,” Tramplemain corrected. “How does that help us?”
“One thing you have to understand about the Tevynians is, they think humans are the top of the food chain, the heirs to the Elders, who they consider gods, just like the factions you have here.” And yes, that was a little dig at Richard for implying that Croatan didn’t have any political divisions. We’d kept that faction from killing the king not that long ago. “Which means, they’d be very much inclined to help you. Particularly considering they’d think of you as uncorrupted by the influence of the Helta and the other non-human species.”
“We’ve barely met any of them,” Richard said mildly, though it had the tone of a complaint. I knew the man wasn’t used to being thought of as a backwater politician and had to resent the idea that our allies—hell, our own government—barely considered his people at all.
“They’ll help you,” I assured him. “They won’t give you their cruisers, but they’ll help you set up defenses superior to what you have. We can send a message to them, let them know you need help. It’s going to take a while for them to get here, but they’ll come.”
“And you trust them?” Richard asked. “You trust them enough to ask us to trust them?”
“Think of it this way,” Julie said. “You’re too far away for them to conquer, too far away for them to get any use out of your resources, even if they needed them. Either they’ll come and help because you’re human or they won’t come at all.”
“There is that,” he admitted. “And as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. We’ll take whatever help they can give.”
“You’ve certainly made a lot of improvements since we were last here,” I offered, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s very impressive how much you’ve been able to accomplish in just a few months.”
“Well, when a bunch of hideous monsters invade your world trying to destroy the palace,” Anne said, “it provides…incentive to build quickly.”
“Quite,” Richard agreed. “We poured every ounce of effort, every noble of gold we could squeeze from the merchants into bolstering our defenses. It was quite unnecessary before, but well within our capabilities. We have the material to build thousands of nuclear weapons and we’ve put all of them into high orbit.” The King scowled. “Though I understand from the technical documents you left that a nuclear weapon is not nearly as effective in a vacuum as it is in an atmosphere.”
“It isn’t,” Julie said. “But it’s the best you can do until we help retool your production facilities using Helta technology.”
“What about the Orion design?” I asked him. “Have you made any progress on that?”
“We have.” The scowl lightened, as if I’d touched on a subject he was happier to discuss. “You might not have seen it, but it’s being assembled in lunar orbit, using materials mined there, as you suggested. We think it could be finished in a few months…assuming we have that long.”
“Getting the nuclear warheads for propulsion has been more problematic,” Tramplemain added, “since most of them are designated for defensive use.”
“Once the ship’s built,” I suggested, leaning forward across the table, “my advice would be to reallocate all those warheads for propulsion and use the Orion to maneuver asteroids into position for use as weapons. They’re a lot likelier to actually do damage against the enemy, particularly if you can spread them out far enough and get them going fast enough.”
“It worked once,” Julie mumbled, “and all of a sudden, you’re a military genius.”
I spared her a dirty look, but kept my attention on the King.
“I’d also consider mating some of those defense ships you have in orbit to the Orion and using them as fighters. I’ll warn you right now, most of their crews will die, but they can whittle down the enemy’s numbers.” I shrugged. “You might consider remotely-piloted drones controlled from the Orion, but unfortunately, the Bugs have some pretty good ECM and they might not work. Maybe you could rig up some kind of heat-seeking circuit to guide them autonomously.” I winced at what I was about to say. “But if I’m being honest, volunteers who know how likely it is that this is a one-way trip will probably get you more ships faster. Nothing’s a good solution until we get the Tevynians here to help you, but I’m trying to give you as much as you can actually build.”
Richard tapped his fingers against the table, a hollow, echoing sound.
“I suppose,” he said, “the best I can hope for is that your Tevynian friends arrive soon.”
“No,” I corrected him. “The best you can hope for is that our mission is successful and we find another way to take out the Bugs. Because whether it’s us and the Helta and the Tevynians all fighting together or each of us fighting alone, the conclusion is still inevitable…there’s too many of them and too few of us. We’re all going to die.” I tilted my head in a shrug. “Except the ones who run, like the Elders. And God only knows how far we’d have to run to get away from the Bugs.”
“In that case,” Anne said, somber but resolute, “what can we do to help?”
“It’s a long trip,” Quinn piped up brightly, finally hitting a subject he felt comfortable addressing. “We could really use some more food.”
“And I don’t suppose,” I added, “that you ever took my suggestion and opened up that Coca Cola bottling plant…”
14
“Jesus H. Christ, Clanton!” Julie screeched, theatrically tearing at her hair. “If I’d known you were so stuck in the fucking 1970’s, I never would have been stupid enough to marry you!”
I’d never thought of myself as someone who would get claustrophobic. I’d spent months on a US Navy ship, more months on the Jambo in space, but nothing quite matched up to the last few weeks on the Bellerophon. On the ocean, I could still go topside, feel the wind in my face, bask in the sunlight. Even on the Jambo, there was room for exercise compartments and artificial environments with sun lamps and holographic walls that let the crew at least pretend they were outside.
No such recourse existed on the Bellerophon. The three of us were trapped in a ship with an interior capacity about the size of a school bus, with no windows, no simulations, no sun lamps and precious little entertainment. There was no Wi-Fi that could reach back to Earth and our tablets and cell phones lacked any on-board video…well, except mine. I was old-fashioned that way and I’d downloaded a bunch of movies and music the last time we’d headed out on the Jambo. Which meant I’d watched all those movies twice at this point and listened to all that music dozens of times. And if I’d gotten tired of them, Julie was absolutely sick of my taste in music.
