Chapter 12

“So how are we going to go about this?”

“Hopefully I’ve managed to get the AI to do most of the work,” replied Andrew. “Then it will be down to you and your people to get things organised however you want them.”

Elizabeth looked at her brother and didn’t know whether to scowl or laugh. This whole set up was almost a joke, except that their own, and everyone else’s, lives depended on how things went and that thought was starting to feel very heavy.

“I take it, that that means you’ve decided to go with the ‘boy’s’ idea of splitting the Scots and Irish off?” she asked.

“And anyone else who has a surname that will fit in with either of those groups,” agreed Andrew.

“What about you, are you using nationality as a deciding factor?”

“No,” said Andrew, “I’m going for any volunteer who’s had military experience and if that doesn’t provide sufficient bodies I’ll look at the concubines the volunteers have already picked. If they are ex-military then they’ll be coming with me too”

“What are you thinking?” asked Elizabeth, frowning at her brother.

“My first thought was Sparta,” he replied with a grin, “but then I remembered all the homosexual shenanigans that went on and decided against that, I like girls too much.”

“Come on, Andy, be serious,” she said raising her voice.

“Really,” he said seriously, “what I’m doing is getting all the warriors in one place.”

“Why?” she asked?

“For two reasons,” he said. “The first is to reduce the likelihood that you three will try to depose me violently...”

“But...”

“Hold on, Sis. I never said you would, I said it was to reduce the likelihood and before you kick off I don’t expect that thought to occur for many years, if it ever does. More importantly it will put together the beginnings of a small fighting force just in case they are needed.”

The two siblings paused for breath and were joined by the Dukes of Saint Patrick and Saint Andrew. Steven grinned before performing a short bow, “Your Majesty, I hope we find you well this morn?”

Andrew chuckled before taking a swing at Steven, “Pack it in will you, this is serious.”

“OK,” said Steven looking about.

The hold was filling with people as the volunteers, including those from the other ship, arrived to hear their fate.

Captain Wainright, who was over by one of the entrances, nodded to one of the grey uniformed crewmen and crossed the hold to the four youngsters.

“Everyone’s here,” he said, “Shall we begin?”

Andrew nodded and the Marine turned back to the crowd.

“Good Morning,” he announced his voice amplified sufficiently so that everyone could hear him. “What’s going to happen here is that we are going to be splitting you up into the different settlements that will be being established on the planet. You will get a chance to meet the leaders of your settlements and will also be introduced to the, admittedly limited, technology that will be put at your disposal.”

Captain Wainright indicated three banners, the saltire cross of Saint Andrew, the golden harp of Saint Patrick and the red dragon of Saint David that had been hung from the walls of the hold. “When the AI informs you which of the Dukedoms you’re assigned to I want you to make your way to the respective flag.” He paused for a moment before concluding, “Those the AI doesn’t name will gather together here before the stage.”

As he fell silent the AI took over. Next to Andrew John asked, “Why did he make the announcement, rather than you?”

“Because, technically, the Marines are still in charge until we land on the planet and, at this moment, I doubt if most of the people would actually listen to me.”

John frowned but didn’t continue the discussion before Captain Wainright joined them.

“I think you need to get over to your flags,” was all he said and he found himself standing next to Andrew alone.

“Well, they can take a hint,” he said before turning his attention to the younger man. “It looks like you’re going to get enough people for your village and without too much in the way of conflict of interest with the other Dukedoms.”

Andrew looked the big Marine up and down and decided to ask a question that had been bugging him ever since he’d been made leader of the colony.

“Captain,” he asked almost diffidently, “how is it that everyone has accepted my leadership so easily?”

Roger Wainright looked at the young man and was again reminded of just how fast on the uptake that the young man appeared to be. It had taken himself six months before he’d asked the same question of his superiors. “It’s all part of the treatment we’re given on pick-up,” he said. “The initial nannite injection includes one that has been dubbed the ‘respect’ nannite. What it does is it influences the person to ‘respect’ those who are placed in a position of authority. It doesn’t make them obey, just view your opinions in a favourable light. The thing to remember here is that as long as your orders, requests, whatever, sound reasonable the person will be inclined to go along. If they don’t comply with those ideals then the person’s own feelings will guide them.”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous for troops?” asked Andrew.

“In some circumstances it could be,” answered the Marine, “so the nannite is flushed from our troops’ bodies after they’ve completed training.”

“And for the rest of us?” asked Andrew frowning.

“It’s going to be there forever,” said the Captain, “or so I’ve been led to believe.”

“Uhmm,” was Andrew’s only comment on that revelation as he turned his attention back to the people milling around the hold but he was wondering what other ‘surprises’ had been slipped into his blood stream without his knowledge.

“I’m Brigadier Nobel Khanna formally of the Indian Army,” explained the swarthy Asian to Andrew. “I was attending the garden party in your honour with a contingent of children from the Indian Embassy. When the extraction occurred I came along with the rest.”

“Are there any more members of the Indian military with you?” asked Andrew.

“Not that I am aware of, your Majesty,” replied the Indian.

“Well Brigadier,” said Andrew, “according to the AI you are the ranking officer attached to Saint George. So for your sins you are now the head of the Army and will be responsible for organising, training and equipping the force.” Andrew smiled, “But before you get too excited, this,” he waved his arm at the small group of people clustered near the stage, “is the entire force you’ll be working with. At least for now.”

The Brigadier looked around and couldn’t help himself, “I hope you haven’t got anything too strenuous in mind.”

Andrew chuckled, “Not until we’ve all gone through the augmentation process, I haven’t and in all seriousness I hope you are never needed to fight. The forecast is that the Sa’arm won’t reach Albion for at least thirty years, and that’s only if the human race doesn’t do anything about it in the meantime. The more likely estimate is that it is going to be something like a minimum of a hundred years, if Earth behaves as is expected, before they can get here, and by then the Confederacy should be putting major dents in their expansion plans.”

“So you want us to be a training team in case of trouble and, I assume, to enforce your authority if the need arises?” the Brigadier asked suspiciously.

“That’s pretty much it,” said Andrew, “though I doubt if anyone will have time to ferment a revolt. We’ll all be too busy surviving to worry about any sort of power games.”

Andrew glanced around and took in the diversity of his small group. With the majority of the continental populations being boosted to the required level by the use of ethnically white Anglo-Saxons, Andrew had inherited the remainder. It was a mixture of Chinese, West Indians and Asians from India and Pakistan along with a sprinkling of odd hangers-on.

He grinned at the Brigadier and added the comment, “Though you may end up acting as a policeman when the Inter-Continental games are held.”

“You’re planning that far ahead, already?” asked Nobel Khanna in surprise.

“What I want to do,” replied Andrew seriously, “is bring all the good parts of the old Commonwealth here and, if possible, get rid of the bad parts. That means I fully intend to have a Commonwealth Games at some stage, but it may not be for a while.”

“But a Commonwealth has to be more than just the home nations, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” said Andrew and then changed the subject. “The AI tells me that the tall gentleman at the end of the line is Air Commodore Wright-Philips. I’d suggest that you use him as your assistant and see what you can come up with, but remember, your priority, at least initially, has to be the establishment of your own home.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” replied the Brigadier as he walked towards the tall figure at the end of the line, his mind thinking of the young woman he’d picked up to accompany him.

“You know what would be really helpful?” asked Allen. “Not necessarily immediately, but fairly soon after we get Saint David established.”

“What?” asked Martin taking the bait.

“Ships!” declared Allen.

“Ships, Why?” asked Martin. “We’ll have a transporter net to get around.”

Allen rolled his eyes, “Not for use on the planet,” he said before fixing Martin with one of his grins, “Think about it. We are going to be stuck out here on the edge of the galaxy for at least a year before anyone gets around to coming for a visit, and that’s a minimum, not a maximum. If we have a problem - of any sort - we are going to have wait at least that long before someone can bring help.”

Allen switched his attention to Elizabeth. “Now I know we could yell for help on the sub-space communicator but if we had some means of transport, and the way I’m looking at it any old bag of bolts would do, we will be in a position to get our own help.” He smiled, “And we would be free to do anything else we liked with the ship once we’ve got her.”