Vanguard (Ark Royal Book 7)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Charles,” he said, sitting down in front of the terminal. “What’s up?”

  Potter’s face twitched at the deliberate informality. “Mr. Ambassador,” he said, stiffly. It had taken Henry a year to stop Potter addressing him as ‘Your Highness,’ even though he’d put the title aside. “We picked up a priority call from the swimming pool. They request your immediate presence.”

  Henry frowned. “Did they say why?”

  “Nothing,” Potter said. “And the discussion boards are clear.”

  Henry felt his frown deepen. The Tadpoles were not human and, like their human counterparts, they worked hard to avoid misunderstandings that could easily lead to a renewed conflict. If something had happened to restart the war, he was sure the embassy would have seen some signs of it ... and there had been nothing. The only issue he’d had to handle that had been more than merely routine, over the last two years, had been the joint exploration program and even that had been a minor matter. When one race wanted the lands and the other the sea, it was hard to find anything to fight over.

  “Inform them I will be there presently,” Henry said. The Tadpoles wouldn't be impressed - they probably wouldn't even notice - if he turned up fashionably late. “And then have the courier boats prepped for immediate departure.”

  “Of course, Mr. Ambassador,” Potter said. “I’ll also call the senior representatives ...”

  “You better had,” Henry grunted. Maybe it was nothing, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, if he’d been woken in the early hours of the morning, his staff might as well be awakened too. “I’ll call ahead when I leave the swimming pool.”

  He closed the channel and turned, just in time to see Janelle Windsor entering the chamber carrying a steaming mug of coffee. A decade of married life - and three beautiful young children - had only enhanced her beauty, as far as he was concerned. And, unlike far too many of the other wives, she actually knew how to support her husband. Bringing coffee when he desperately needed it was only the icing on the cake.

  “Victoria said you needed this,” Janelle said. “Is it going to be bad? Another Simon?”

  “I hope not,” Henry said. He drank the coffee quickly, despite the heat, then hurried down to the door. “Last time was quite bad enough.”

  He winced at the memory. Simon Barlow, the son of one of the embassy staffers, had made the mistake of swimming in the ocean, only to be killed in passing by a handful of Tadpoles. Human outrage had been met with Tadpole incomprehension; the humans had been horrified at a young child’s death, the Tadpoles had honestly been unable to understand why the humans were so outraged. To them, children were expendable. Only a relative handful of juniors survived long enough to grow into adults and enter society. The whole affair had left a nasty taste in everyone’s mouth. Henry had kept his daughters on Tadpole Prime, but he never allowed them to leave Human Town. The other parents felt the same way too.

  “Good luck,” Janelle said.

  Henry nodded, discarded his dressing gown and walked out the door. The heat struck him like a physical blow, reminding him that Tadpole Prime was significantly hotter and wetter than anywhere on Earth, at least outside the tropics. Overhead, the skies were darkening; it wouldn't be long before the first rainstorms began, drenching the small settlement in rushing water. They’d designed the buildings to redirect water down to the ocean, but even so ... it was a very odd settlement.

  And it takes a very odd set of humans, he thought, to live here.

  He smiled at the thought as he passed two of the French staffers jogging around the settlement before the rainstorm began. Both of them wore nothing more than bikini underpants, their breasts bobbing merrily as they moved. He reminded himself, firmly, he was a married man, even though there weren't many people in the settlement who wore more than shorts or swimming trunks. Anyone who tried to walk outside, wearing a suit and tie, was likely to get heatstroke sooner rather than later. The long-term settlers had just had to get used to near-nudity.

  There were no dangerous animals on the island - the Tadpoles had cleared them out, years ago - but there was a metal fence surrounding the complex anyway, mainly to keep the children inside. Henry nodded to the guard at the gate, who opened the door to allow him to hurry down to the swimming pool. It was, perhaps, the strangest complex on the island, a structure that reminded him of an iceberg pushed up against a tropical beach. The Tadpoles had designed it as a place both races could meet and talk, but most humans found it uncomfortable. Henry wasn't sure, but he had the feeling the Tadpoles found it uncomfortable too, although for different reasons. A moist atmosphere, too wet for humans, might well be too dry for the aliens.

  He glanced up as thunder rolled, directly overhead, then started to run as the rain started to pelt down. The pathway dissolved into a slippery mess, but he kept his balance with the ease of long practice as he reached the door and hurried inside. A pair of staffers stood there, one holding a headphone set that connected directly to the settlement’s computers. Henry hated to think of how much money had been spent on the network, just to get something that was as near to truly intelligent as possible. But there was no choice. There was no other way to talk to the Tadpoles.

  “The triad has been in the swimming pool for the last half hour,” Mariko said. She was Japanese - and one of the smartest people Henry had met, although at twenty-five she was easy to underestimate. Her assignment to the embassy, perhaps the most vital duty station in the galaxy, spoke well of her. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

  Henry frowned, concerned. The Tadpoles didn't really understand human diplomacy, but it was unlike them to enter the negotiating chamber until their human counterparts had arrived, something to do with their social structure. If they’d changed the rules ... he nodded to them both, placed the headset over his ears and hurried through the inner door. The Tadpoles were waiting for him.

  He came to a halt as the triad surfaced, their dark eyes staring at him. The first humans to meet the Tadpoles face to face had thought they were staring at sea monsters - and, up close, it was easy to see their point. A Tadpole was a vaguely humanoid creature, but there were so many flaps and folds of leathery dark skin that it was hard to be sure. Indeed, there were people who steadfastly believed that the Tadpoles had no legs. He didn't wrinkle his nose at the faint smell of rotting fish - he was used to it - as he walked over to the swimming pool and sat down, allowing his legs to dangle into the water. There was nothing dangerous under the surface, he knew. The Tadpoles hadn't been able to understand why their human counterparts wanted the water free of smaller creatures - everything from tiny fish to crab-analogues - but they’d happily kept the water clear.

  They probably thought of it as an embassy dinner, Henry thought. And think of us as people who don’t like to eat while we’re working.

  “I greet you,” he said. It was better to use simple concepts when talking to the Tadpoles, if only to limit the risk of screwing up the translation. “I have come, as you requested.”

  The triad - he was never sure if he was meeting the same Tadpoles, every time - shifted for a long chilling moment, their heads slipping in and out of the water. It was hard, very hard, to tell the Tadpoles apart; indeed, as a communal race, it was vanishingly rare to talk to one of the Tadpoles alone. The researchers assumed the Tadpoles had similar problems telling humans apart, although Henry wasn't so sure. Tadpole eyes were far more capable than human eyes and humans were far more distinctive.

  “There have been developments,” an atonal voice said, finally. No attempt to add emotion to the speaking voice had succeeded; indeed, reading Tadpole emotions was almost as hard as telling them apart. “A starship has returned from the unknown waters.”

  Henry blinked in surprise. The unknown waters were what the Tadpoles called the unexplored tramlines on the other side of their space. They’d been quite happy, after the dust had settled from the Anglo-Indian War, to share the costs of exploring the unknown regions, if only to preve
nt a second disastrous First Contact. Discovering one other intelligent race during their early explorations might have been bad luck, but discovering two ...

  “They have detected a third spacefaring race,” the Tadpole voice said. “This race is apparently on the same level as ourselves.”

  “Wow,” Henry said. His thoughts caught up with him a moment later. “Shit.”

  The Tadpoles had been more advanced than humanity by at least a decade, when the war had begun. And he knew, from bitter experience, that they'd come very close to winning. A new race presented all sorts of opportunities - humanity and the Tadpoles had learned a great deal from one another - but they also posed a threat. There could be no careful contact procedure when the newcomers were spacefaring, nor could contact be broken in an emergency. The First Contact mission would have to be put together very carefully.

  “As laid down in the treaty, we intend to put together a task force to make contact,” the Tadpole voice said. The triad jumped in and out of the water, sending waves rippling through the pool and splashing over the edge. “We invite you to add warships and contact specialists to the fleet.”

  Henry nodded. The treaty had gone into great detail about just how any new self-spacefaring race was to be approached, although the next First Contact - on Vesy - had been botched from start to finish. Both races were to be informed, defences were to be prepared and the First Contact mission was to be escorted and covered by a powerful task force. The Tadpoles would probably make the largest contribution, as they were closer to the new race, but humanity needed to be represented.

  “I believe my people will be happy to uphold their half of the treaty,” he said. The Tadpoles hadn't shown much interest in the Vesy, but a spacefaring race was a potential danger by any reasonable standards. “I will communicate with my people and request redeployment.”

  “All data has been forwarded to your embassy,” the triad informed him. “We thank you.”

  They vanished beneath the water. Henry leaned forward, just in time to see them swimming out into the ocean, down towards their settlements far below the waves. He’d seen their cities through underwater cameras, but he’d never been there and he probably never would. A handful of humans had been modified to allow them to breathe underwater, yet Tadpole Prime’s oceans held too many dangers. There were nasty shark-analogues that the Tadpoles treated as pets - and guard dogs.

  He swung his legs out of the water and hurried back to the path, passing the headset to the staffers as he walked past. The rain was still falling, but it was slacking off and bright flickers of sunlight were burning through the clouds. He braced himself, then hurried through the warm downpour back towards the embassy. A handful of staffers and senior officials were already making their way into the building.

  “Have coffee sent in for all of us,” he ordered Potter, as he walked into the main conference room. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  He took his seat at the head of the table and waited for the table to fill. No one had disagreed with the need to set up an embassy on Tadpole Prime, but there had been thousands of arguments over just who should be represented on the planet. In the end, it had been decided that there would only be one embassy, with a dozen ambassadors. Henry considered himself the senior ambassador, but he suspected the others thought he was merely the first amongst equals. Shaking his head at the thought, he opened his terminal and started to read the files as the staffers brought coffee. It was clear, judging from the attached reports, that it had been a pair of human starships that had discovered the new race.

  They didn’t mention that, he thought, amused. They’re more like us than they let on.

  He smiled at the thought, then sat upright as the room was sealed. Eleven ambassadors, four military attaches and two senior staffers looked back at him. He was mildly surprised that none of them had started accessing the files, although it was quite possible that someone within the embassy had given his superiors some advance warning. The problem with having a multinational staff, even on an alien homeworld, was that they had divided loyalties.

  “You can review the files later, but the short version is that a pair of human starships have discovered a third intelligent race,” he said, bluntly. “This race is spacefaring and may - I say may - pose a potential threat.”

  The French ambassador leaned forward. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” Henry said. “As you can see” - he brought up the starchart - “the newcomers are located on the other side of Tadpole space, the unknown waters. The survey ships analysed the data as best as they could, but they're unsure if the unknowns have any awareness or understanding of the tramlines. However, as they clearly have standard drives, they should be aware of the potentials.”

  “Unless they just overlooked them,” one of the military officers offered. “We overlooked quite a few applications of gravimetric technology ourselves.”

  Henry nodded. “As we are unsure if this race poses any threat, the Tadpoles intend to make first contact as soon as possible,” he said. “They have formally invoked our obligations under the Contact Treaty to request both technological and military support. I intend to send messages to the border guard, requesting a redeployment, but I also intend to take a number of experts from the embassy and join the Tadpole mission.”

  It took a moment for the implications to sink in. “You intend to go personally?”

  “They need a senior representative, someone authorised by the Great Powers,” Henry said, simply. He did have authority to speak for Earth, although there were so many caveats that his power was actually quite limited. “I’m probably the best choice for mission commander.”

  “And you want to get away from the embassy for a while,” the American Ambassador joked.

  Henry shrugged. Going on a Tadpole ship was one thing, but boarding a Royal Navy starship would mean spending hours explaining that he was no longer part of the Royal Family, even if he had kept the name. But really, what choice did he have? He was the best person for the job, certainly the most experienced when it came to contacting alien races. He’d been among the first humans to actually speak to the Tadpoles.

  Another military officer leaned forward. “Should we prep the embassy for destruction?”

  “I don’t think there’s any immediate threat,” Henry said. He could understand why the Tadpoles were jumpy, but there was no evidence the mystery aliens had advanced towards Tadpole space. “Still, best to review our procedures. The Tadpoles nearly reached Earth during the first month of the war, after all.”

  He sighed, inwardly, as they began to review the files. In all the excitement - and it was exciting - he’d forgotten one very simple fact. How the hell was he going to explain his departure to his daughters? Janelle would understand - she was a military officer, even if she was technically a reservist - but his daughters? Victoria was eight, old enough to understand that her father was leaving, too young to understand that he would be back. Hell, she’d spent time crying whenever one of her parents had left the room.

  I’ll have to go, he told himself. And all I can do is promise I’ll be back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  This was not such a bright idea, George thought, as she dressed for the fight. It wasn't much; a shirt, a sports bra, a pair of shorts ... neither would provide much protection if she took a hit. She couldn't help feeling sick as the hour drew closer. But it has to be done.

  She swallowed, hard. Challenging Fraser directly had seemed such a smart idea, before she’d actually gone and done it. The logic was still good, she was sure, but she’d humiliated him in front of the other middies. Trapping him in an untenable position - unable to refuse the challenge, unable to demand something in exchange - had only made him mad. In hindsight, she understood - too late - what her tutors had meant when they’d talked about the dangers of death ground. Trapping an enemy was only a good idea if the enemy couldn't fight their way out of the trap, or maul you badly as you killed them.

  You cou
ld still back out, a voice said, at the back of her head. You don’t have to go through with it.

  She shook her head, despite the temptation. Unlike Fraser, she had no position to lose, but if she backed out no one would ever respect her again. They’d see her as an empty-headed braggart and they’d be right, the silly little girl who’d allowed her mouth to get her into trouble. She checked her appearance in the mirror, wishing suddenly that she was allowed boxing gloves - she could have slipped something solid into them - and then opened the hatch. Honoraria was standing outside.

  “I need to search you,” Honoraria said. “Hold your arms above your head, please.”