Invasion

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Joshua tried to scowl at her, but didn’t quite manage it. “I think they probably did bad things,” he said, very aware of the ears nearby. The aliens had too many collaborators working for them. The insurgents, he hoped, didn’t come to the soup kitchens. “Once you finish your dinner, we can go.”

  Ten minutes later, they were on their way back to the apartment. “They probably got picked up at prayer,” Loretta said, the airhead act vanishing as soon as they were out of earshot. The streets were almost deserted now; the ‘airs’ were at prayer, and the remainder of the population was out of sight. “You want to ask around and see who knows something?”

  “Not now,” Joshua said, as they reached the apartment. It had been easy enough to convince the others to allow Loretta to stay with them, despite the limited food; her very presence lit up the place. It was a sexist thought, but who cared? They were well past the stage of caring about PC thoughts. “If the aliens figure out that someone is interested in finding out… and if someone betrayed them…”

  He didn’t have to finish the thought. The aliens had plenty of collaborators… and not all of them were forced into the role. If someone had tipped off the aliens about the prayer meeting, perhaps to settle some pre-invasion score, they wouldn’t hesitate to report two reporters as well, before their names and faces got onto the Internet. It had happened before… and those collaborators hadn’t lasted a week.

  Once they were back in his apartment, with the door firmly bolted, he dug up the new laptop from where he’d hidden it, under the bookshelves. A quick search of the apartment would miss it, but he had no illusions about how well hidden it was if the aliens searched his room thoroughly; they’d find it within moments. His old laptop had failed the night of the big human attack — he suspected EMP, although entire swathes of the city had been undisrupted — and Loretta had found him a new one, although it didn’t work as well. He’d lost most of his secure files when the old laptop failed, but luckily he’d kept the passwords to the blog in his head. It was a matter of moments to read through the comments for his last post, make a few notes of questions that needed answers, and then started to write the next post.

  Loretta draped herself over the bed and winked at him. “Can’t I distract you, even for a few minutes?”

  “I have to make this post while everything is fresh in my head,” Joshua said, absently. “Besides, this game of Solitaire won’t finish itself.”

  “Nerd,” Loretta said, pulling herself off the bed and wandering over to him. “What are you telling them?”

  Joshua smiled. The one thing they’d disagreed upon had been that Loretta’s name hadn’t been mentioned at all. If the aliens caught him, they wouldn’t know about her… and he’d given her his passwords. If he got carted off to their work gangs, or whatever, Loretta would be able to carry on. He’d written mainly about the religious ceremony, in hopes that someone with a bigger brain than he had could work out how it worked, but he’d also mentioned the work gangs and other alien innovations. The aliens might not have believed in hearts and minds, although they obviously believed in souls, but they certainly believed in grabbing people by the nuts.

  “The truth,” he said, and smiled. The aliens called their religion the Truth. It probably had a subtle meaning in their own language, but so far the only people who’d heard the alien language had been a handful of collaborators, who’d reported that it seemed to be impossible for human throats to duplicate. “What else do you think I should tell them?”

  “How many aliens there are here,” Loretta said. “Is it just me, or are there fewer aliens these days?”

  Joshua frowned at her. “No,” he said flatly, and then he stopped. It was true that the aliens had been patrolling heavily, but what did that prove? It only proved that the aliens were patrolling heavily. It was odd, but in a sense, she was right; there did seem to be fewer aliens on the streets. “They could all be in the Green Zone…”

  “Yes, they could,” Loretta agreed. The name for the alien-controlled centre of Austin had stuck, somehow. The insurgents occasionally lobbed mortar shells and homemade rockets into the complex, an irony that the aliens probably didn’t appreciate. “Do you believe it?”

  “I think it would be crazy to jump to any conclusions,” Joshua said, considering it. It was possible that she was right… but if it were true, what could they do about it? Could they use it as a chance to mount another attack… and, if they did, what would the aliens do in response? It was a moot point, in any sense; he was pretty sure that the insurgents read his blog page, but he didn’t know any of them personally. “Do you want to post it as an observation…?”

  “That’s not the point,” Loretta said. “If the aliens aren’t here, then where are they?”

  “Good point,” Joshua agreed, and then it hit him. “You think they’re preparing another strike against the outside world?”

  “It’s possible,” Loretta said. “They could also be conducting anti-partisan operations, or… hell, boss, I don’t know. I just think that its something you should post and see who agrees with you, or not.”

  “There could be people — hell, there will be people — agreeing with it because they want to believe,” Joshua warned, but she was right. “I’ll post a note to that effect and see who agrees, or not. For all we know, they’re barracking thousands of aliens in the green zone, just waiting for us to get uppity again.”

  “Maybe,” Loretta agreed. “In fact…”

  She broke off as a crashing noise echoed up from downstairs. Joshua knew what that sound meant; they’d taken a few precautions to warn the residents of an alien raid, precautions that weren’t triggered by anyone with the right to live in the apartment. He heard the sound of harsh alien voices as they flooded into the apartment, running up the stairs, and froze in panic. Loretta, quicker thinking, dived for the laptop and tried to hide it again, before the aliens burst in, weapons ready.

  “Halt,” the leader snapped. Loretta fell on the floor in shock. “Do not attempt to escape.”

  The aliens marched forward, their black helms hiding their faces, and grabbed Joshua with their gloved hands. Before he could make a single protest, they tied his hands behind him and thrust him against the wall. A moment later, Loretta joined him, a nasty bruise developing on her face where she’d hit the ground. Joshua tried to meet her eyes as the aliens searched the apartment, smashing their way through everything to find all of his secrets, but she kept her face turned away from him. He could hear her sniffling, just loud enough to hear, but he couldn’t even touch her to comfort her.

  “You will accompany us,” the alien leader said, finally.

  A handful of aliens carried the evidence — the laptop, Loretta’s computer junk and his handgun — as they were hustled down the stairs. Joshua saw a pair of residents, staring at them… and then he saw Mr Adair. One look was all it took to know what had happened; he had, for some reason, betrayed them. Joshua couldn’t think why, or even care, not when they were being hustled off to some unknown fate.

  Bastard, he thought, and let the aliens drag him onwards.

  There was no escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  What makes the Holy Land so Holy if so much blood is shed there?

  — Anon

  Captain Mohammad Karim leaned back as the line of prisoners were marched past towards one of the security camps outside Basra, where they would be interrogated and — eventually — punished. The Iraqi police had been watching this particular group for several weeks, confirming that they were actually involved with smuggling weapons and explosives into the country, before sending in his Company to arrest the men. Some of them had tried to fight it out, hoping, like so many others, that poisoned faith could provide a counter for training and experience, the others had shown their ‘willingness’ to die for the cause by surrendering at once. Karim and his men had bound their hands, searched the warehouse quickly and effectively, and found enough proof to ensure that the men spent a few unc
omfortable years in the desert.

  Idiots, he thought, as he lit up a cigarette. His men had been recruited in the chaotic years of the insurgency, first working for the Americans and then for the Iraqi Government, and between them they had nearly a hundred years of experience in street-fighting. The terrorists they’d captured were nothing more than untrained punks from a madrassa somewhere in Saudi or Pakistan, dangerous only in numbers and only then if their targets were unarmed. The explosives they’d had with them might have killed a few dozen Iraqis, but it was much more likely that they would kill themselves when they tried to plant them. The Iraqi citizen who’d called in the tip, one of millions who was sick of the violence that kept trying to rear its head in his country, had probably saved their lives. They wouldn’t be thanking him any time soon.

  “All yours,” he said, as the policemen came and took custody of the terrorists. It made sense to have the army conduct the arrests, but the police had to hold them in custody, before they were tried and sentenced. The police weren’t a soft option; they lived and worked in Basra and loathed the terrorists who’d tried to tear the city apart. They would be more likely to accidentally shoot the prisoners while trying to escape, rather than letting them go, something that had been a persistent problem back in the early days. Now, Iraq was finally starting to stand on its own two feet.

  He looked over towards the single American advisor. The man had been distracted lately, worrying about the fate of his fellow countrymen in America… and it was hard to blame him. The terrorist internet had been shouting the praises of the aliens to the skies for destroying the Great Satan, but Karim was fairly sure that the aliens didn’t mean Islam any favours either. They’d casually destroyed mosques along with churches in America, after all, and they probably intended to do the same in Iraq. The only saving grace, as far as he could see, was that the aliens probably didn’t have the numbers to take on the entire world. By the time they reached Iraq, they might even be ready for them…

  But in the meantime, there was work to be done. The main Iraqi supporters of terrorism had been either beaten or brought into the government, where they found it much harder to get to grips with the problems they’d claimed had easy solutions, but there were still thousands of terrorists out there. The alien invasion had brought more of them out of the woodwork, whereupon they’d started to attack Americans and their allies all across the Gulf. They’d also started another campaign to bring down the Iraqi Government, although this one had failed spectacularly… even though the world media would probably hail it as a great terrorist success. Karim had a private blacklist of reporters, mainly American, who always exaggerated in their reports… and not in the favour of the good guys. It was a complex war, an endless struggle that had been, mercifully, coming to an end… and one where enemies could become friends, or vice versa, at the drop of a pen.

  He rounded up the men of his company — the only injury had been a soldier who’d accidentally banged his arm against a wall and was hamming it up in fine style, claiming to have been crippled — and they collected their weapons and supplies. One thing they’d learned from the early days had been to keep a close eye on their own weapons, even though Iraq was swimming in weapons, just to prevent further losses to the enemy. He recalled a newly-formed unit that had been thrown into the deep end and collapsed under fire, surrendering all their weapons to the terrorists, and was determined that that wouldn’t happen again. Like most young officers, he had a wife and children… and they would never have any cause to be ashamed of him.

  “Back to barracks,” he ordered. “By the left, quick march!”

  It still amazed him how many people were willing to wave and cheer as the soldiers marched past, even if they were blocking up the roads. The streets were much safer now then they’d been during the insurgency, back when it had been dangerous for armed men, let alone women and children, and the civilians knew who had cleared the streets. Karim was more than happy to let them cheer, knowing that many young boys would want to become soldiers if they saw the ceremony, and…

  He sensed, more than heard, the falling KEW. A blast of light, followed by a massive explosion, rose up from the docks. A second later, the shockwave flashed out across the city, shattering windows and sending glass cascading onto the streets. Men and women, caught under the falling shower, were cut and torn by the glass as it sliced into their skin. A second explosion followed, then a third, sending new explosions billowing into the air. It looked as if they’d hit the military complex outside the city and perhaps the new airfield that had been under construction, smashed it from orbit. An instant later, he heard the thunderclaps of other strikes, hitting targets all over the area.

  “The aliens,” the American said. Master Sergeant Robin Brooks was even more experienced than the Iraqis; he’d been in Iraq almost constantly since 2003, barely pausing for leave. Karim expected him to take an Iraqi wife and settle down any day now. “They’re hitting the bases!”

  Karim had to agree. The population was starting to panic. “We have to get back to the base,” he snapped, trying to understand what was going on. The docks had been hit… which meant that thousands of Iraqis had just been killed. He couldn’t even understand why they’d hit the docks. “Come on!”

  Basra was in ferment as the soldiers quick-timed it through the streets, but the police were starting to restore order, encouraging people to return to their homes. Imams and Mullahs were trying to restore calm as well, although a flood of worshippers had descended on the mosques, seeking guidance and prayer. The sound of alien bombardment was fainter now, drifting through the air, but he suspected that it meant that the aliens were moving their targeting further northwards, towards Baghdad. He wanted to shout at the skies, cursing the aliens for doing so much damage after it had been painstakingly rebuilt, but what was the point? The aliens wouldn’t hear…

  The American pointed into the distance. “Look,” he said. “They’re landing!”

  Karim knew, just for a moment, what Saddam’s poor soldiers must have felt when they’d seen invincible American tanks heading into Iraq. A line of massive… craft were falling out of the sky, leaving massive trails of light behind them. They looked as if they were coming down to the south, towards the Saudi border, and he found himself hoping that they’d head south into Saudi rather than into Iraq. He’d done enough patrols of the border and arrested enough Saudis trying to sneak into Iraq that he wouldn’t have minded if the aliens invaded and crushed Saudi Arabia. Everyone in Iraq knew that the Saudis were behind all of their torment. One of the best-selling Iraqi books had blamed everything on them, from the American invasion to the insurgency. It had been very popular, largely because everyone wanted someone to blame.

  “Shit,” he muttered, as they headed out of the city towards the base. “What have they done to it?”

  “Kinetic energy weapon,” Brooks said. The barracks had once held thousands of soldiers. Now, they were flaming debris, those that were left. They’d been designed to stand up to an IED at close range, but the KEW had shattered them with ease. A handful of vehicles survived in the tank shed, but most of them had been destroyed from orbit, caught up in the blasts. The aliens, he was starting to realise, played for keeps. “You’d better try and get in touch with Baghdad.”

  Karim barked orders, getting his men to sort out the survivors and treat the wounded, while sending others to hunt for a working communications system. His radio, which should have been powerful enough to reach the next base, was suffering from jamming, while the American-designed satellite communications system was useless in the absence of the satellites. The Iraqis hadn’t realised just how important they’d become until they’d been destroyed by the aliens. An hour passed slowly while he tried to muster some kind of defence… and he realised that while there were over three thousand soldiers left alive, mostly reporting in from Basra, he was the senior officer.

  “Send out a scouting unit,” Brooks advised. The aliens had landed somewhere to the sout
h and would probably be advancing against him soon. Judging by the rising columns of smoke from the direction of Kuwait, they were attacking the Kuwaitis first. “Find out what they’re doing and then prepare to counter it.”

  There wasn’t much in the way of defences to the south, Karim knew. There had been some reason for it, mainly to show that the new Iraq had nothing, but fraternal feelings towards the Kuwaitis, but it was starting to look like a major oversight. He didn’t have much in the way of armour or supporting vehicles either; if the Americans were to be believed, the aliens could simply pick them off from orbit. His infantrymen could make their stand, but if the aliens came at them, they would probably be slaughtered. As much as he hated to admit it, he was out of his depth and sinking fast.

  “Move the antitank teams up to the main road,” he added, after a moment’s thought. The men knew it intimately. The American experience had suggested that the aliens liked using roads, although the terrain was different in Iraq, and they might have a chance to mount an ambush. The aliens were still landing — he could see signs of their massive landing craft falling out of the sky to land somewhere to the south — but he didn’t know what they were doing. The aliens had left him blind and deaf. “I want…”

  A green flare burst up in the distance. Without radio, he’d been forced to fall back on a more primitive method of signalling an alien advance, a flare. The aliens were coming up from Kuwait to attack Basra, whereupon they would probably cut the city off and head northwards. He barked orders, ordering most of his men back towards the city; their only hope was to try and hold the city and hope that the Iraqi forces further to the north could muster a counter-attack in time. Somehow, he doubted that they would make it; the aliens had probably dropped all the old and new bridges from orbit. His force was almost completely on its own.