“My God,” he said, finally. “What do we do about it?”
The Brigadier scowled. “The last reports have the aliens massing forces here, here and here,” he said, tapping locations on the map. “I believe that they intend to advance westwards within the next few hours and scatter our forces before we can regroup and take the offensive. I’m afraid that we’re going to have to put our emergency plan into operation before too long.”
Gabriel nodded. “What do we have to do?”
“You’re going to a secure location in the north – an old estate that belongs to a family that has been linked with the British Government for centuries,” the Brigadier said. “It was always envisaged as the final resort – and so there haven’t been any mentions of it on our computers or anywhere else. Butcher and his team will escort you there and then take care of you, once you’ve recorded a message for the civilians. You have to tell them that there’s a government still out there fighting...”
“But won’t that encourage them to fight themselves?” Gabriel asked. “Won’t we just be prolonging the agony?”
“I wish I knew,” the Brigadier admitted. “Back when I did a stint at Northwood, I saw some of the contingency plans and scenarios dreamed up by civil servants. They all tended to change depending upon the underlying assumptions, but I think we have to assume that the majority of the civilian population will not resist the invaders. But there’s a fine line between not resisting and outright collaboration and...if they believe that there is a government left out there, fewer people will collaborate. I think that the aliens have to have limits on their manpower. Whatever their FTL drive, shipping millions of troops across interstellar distances cannot be cost-effective.”
“And the fewer collaborators they have, the harder it will be for them to rule Earth,” Gabriel said. The Brigadier nodded. “But what do they want?”
“If we take that traitorous bastard at his word, they think they have the right to rule everyone too weak to stand up to them,” the Brigadier said. “Or maybe they have some other goal in being here that they’re keeping to themselves – perhaps because they fear we could spite them in some way. Overall...we don't know what they want.
“The good news is that we managed to make contact with two of our missile boats,” he added. “The aliens hit our submarine bases pretty hard, but we had three of the four boats at sea and two of them have been appraised of the situation. Using them may be tricky with the aliens controlling space, yet we do feel that there are possibilities. We’ve also managed to pull most of the tactical nukes from their storage bunkers and I’ve given orders to conceal them...”
“They are not to be used without my express permission,” Gabriel said, sharply. The thought of nuclear war on British soil was horrifying. “I want you to make that clear to your officers.”
“They know to keep them in reserve,” the Brigadier said, flatly. “Overall, most of our deployed submarines – the attack submarines as well – seem to have survived. They may be usable in the future, but for the moment we have no firm plans.”
He stood up. “We’ll make a stand when they come west and give them a bloody nose, then fall back to prepared positions,” he concluded. “And then most of the lads will go underground and carry on the fight. The aliens have ordered all military and police personnel to surrender themselves – they’ve clearly started putting the police to work, but no one thinks they intend to make use of the soldiers! It seems that they’re already establishing detention camps near the cities. Most of the lads would sooner die than go into one of them.”
***
“People of Britain,” Gabriel said, twenty minutes later. It didn't sound good. Normally, back in Ten Downing Street, he would have had a speechwriter, a make-up artist and a careful briefing on who was expected to be in the media crowd and what questions they might ask. He’d spent so much time preparing for speeches that it had often struck him that he’d done little else in his brief time as Prime Minister. And now...half the population would probably curse him as a man who’d fled, leaving them to face the aliens. “Our nation has been invaded.”
He took a breath. “I won’t lie to you,” he continued. He’d wanted to be honest in his speeches, but the crowd of advisers had warned that too much blunt speaking could backfire. The public seemed to believe that politicians were always liars, yet they elected men who made them feel good about themselves – instead of telling them the truth. At least now he could go with his instincts. “The situation is dire. Many of our cities have been invaded directly; others have lost power and water supplies. Anarchy is threatening to grip our streets.
“Many of you will be frightened. Many of you will wonder if we can resist the aliens, or even if we should resist the aliens. Others will seek to take advantage of the chaos for their own benefit. I know that many of you will be looking to safeguard your families and friends, rather than thinking about the welfare of the country. I cannot blame you for worrying about your own lives, or those of your friends and families. The entire country has suffered a devastating blow. Our world has been turned upside down.
“But Britain has a long and proud history of resisting tyranny. It was us who stood alone against Nazi Germany, though we were bombed and half-starved and suffered defeat after defeat. We played a full part in the containment of Communist Russia, preventing general war from engulfing Europe for the third time. We stood firm against Napoleon when he threatened to invade our shores. The situation is dire, but it is not hopeless. We can fight back against the latest invaders.
“The British Government has survived and it will carry on the fight as long as possible,” he concluded. “I will not order you to resist – I want you to decide for yourselves. If you wish to stand up and fight for Britain, for the freedom of our island nation, join us in resisting the enemy. Take care of yourselves, plan carefully – and hit them as hard as you can. There will be many dark days ahead, days where we can assume nothing, but blood, toil, tears and sweat, but there will come a day when we live freely in our own land once again.”
He tapped the switch, ending the recording. “Very good, Prime Minister,” Linux said. “I’ll have it online tonight, once this bunker has been evacuated. The entire world will hear your speech...”
Gabriel frowned. “But the aliens will try to wipe it from the internet,” he pointed out. Their jamming had certainly prevented any attempt to reclaim the airwaves. “How can we stop them purging it before it reaches its intended audience?”
“Leave that to me,” Linux said. “There are thousands of people on the internet who devised all kinds of programs to share files – despite the best that governments and big corporations could do to stop it. We’ll get your message to the world – after that, it’s all up to them.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said. He wanted to ask what would happen to the young soldier, but the words wouldn't form in his mouth. How could he ask anyone to fight for Britain when he was going to run away and hide?
Butcher cleared his throat. “Prime Minister?” He said. “It’s time to go.”
“Understood,” Gabriel said. He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “Let’s go.”
The climb back up into the open air made him feel oddly claustrophobic. It was a relief when they finally reached the surface and emerged in the midst of a small group of armed soldiers. Butcher spoke to them briefly, and then led the way northwards through the woods. Gabriel could hear the sound of birds chirping in the distance, ignoring the presence of human soldiers in their habitats. Their lives would go on regardless of who ruled the planet. He looked up into the bright blue sky and shivered. There was something impossibly surreal about the whole scene.
“The scouts reported refugees gathering to the north,” Butcher said, as they reached a civilian car that had obviously been commandeered by the military. “We’ll try to give them a wide berth. The aliens don’t seem to care about civilian vehicles, but I think that will change once they realise that we've been
using them to ship men around under their noses.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to ask why they were using a civilian car, before realising that there was no other choice. He couldn't have made it to the north on foot. The SAS men were used to walking for miles in a single day, but he’d just slow them down. They had to rely on the car and hope that the aliens didn't start blasting vehicles at random.
He glanced over towards the east. No plumes of smoke marred the sky, but he knew that the aliens were present – and planning their offensive. He wondered how many people still didn't realise what had happened, or what was going on – there had to be entire communities that hadn’t had any contact with the aliens. No matter how advanced they were, he couldn't see how they intended to occupy every last town and village on the planet. If he was in their shoes, how would he do it? Target America, Europe, Russia and China...and let the rest of the world collapse into chaos?
And how long could Gabriel accept his people suffering while he hid from their new masters?
Chapter Eleven
Long Stratton
United Kingdom, Day 2
For a moment, Alex was half-convinced that she’d been having a nightmare. She lay in a comfortable bed, so comfortable that she wanted to return to slumber. Instead, she opened her eyes and beheld an unfamiliar room. It reminded her of the room she’d shared with her boyfriend back when they’d gone on vacation together, right down to the sunlight streaming in through the window. The presence of her pistol where she’d left it within easy reach brought her back to reality. Her country had been invaded and it was her duty to report in to superior authority – or carry on the fight alone, if possible.
The scent of frying bacon from downstairs made her stomach rumble and she pulled herself out of bed. Smith had brought her back to the farm and convinced her to remain for a day or two, just to see what happened. Who knew – perhaps someone would succeed in finding a way to drive the invaders away from Earth. Alex, who knew that such things only happened in bad movies, was much less optimistic. The farmland surrounding her seemed too mundane to be touched by the aliens, but the fireworks in the sky told her that the world had changed. God alone knew what was going to happen next.
Smith’s wife – who’d turned out to be called Jean – had loaned her a dress and a shirt that was only a size or two too big for her. Alex pulled it on anyway; her uniform had been growing increasingly rank and it would only attract attention when – if – she set out to contact higher authority. There was no way to know what the roads would be like, or how many people would be fleeing the cities for the countryside now that the world had turned upside down. The modern RAF had never designed contingency plans for regrouping after an invasion of the British mainland. It had never even been a serious possibility.
She went to the toilet, splashed water on her face, and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. Jean was already hard at work, frying what looked like bacon, eggs and potatoes in a massive frying pan. It looked wonderfully unhealthy, just the kind of food she’d eaten back home, when she hadn’t been worrying about her weight. Whatever else could be said about life in the military, it ensured that soldiers, sailors and airmen got plenty of exercise. There weren’t many fat personnel until one reached the higher levels of military leadership.
“Take one of the plates and pass it over to me,” Jean ordered. “I’ve pulled you some fresh milk, straight from the cow. You’ll have to learn to milk her for herself if you live longer – it’s one of those experiences no one ever tells the city-folk until they come out here and stay with us.”
Alex took the milk with some trepidation. “Is it safe to drink?”
“Of course it is,” Jean said. “Of course, those bureaucrats think otherwise – and they do have a point, if the milkman isn’t very careful. But no one here wants to go down in history as the farm that got a few hundred people killed. If those aliens” – she pronounced the word with a snort, as if she didn’t quite believe it – “happen to kill all of those interfering meddlers who know nothing, plenty of people round here will raise a glass in their honour.”
Alex frowned, sipping the milk. “But isn’t that a bit disloyal…?”
Jean snorted, again. “You seem to think that the government is always a good thing,” she said. “Do you know how much red tape we have to jump through, every year? Government seems determined to bury us in red tape and endless paperwork. Dear God – there have been years where I’ve seriously considered just urging the man to walk away from the farm. No one seems to want us to do anything, but fill in forms. You can’t make a man a farmer by sending him to impractical courses run by people who aren’t farmers…”
She shook her head. “I won’t miss the government, young lady,” she added. “And I think that many people here will feel the same way.”
There was a hiss as she turned a pair of rashers over, and then piled them onto a plate with potatoes and eggs. “Eat up,” she said, cheerfully. “As far as anyone knows, you’re one of the city-folk who booked a holiday with us so you could experience life on a farm. You’re going to have a busy day ahead of you.”
Alex ate slowly, savouring the natural taste of the bacon and fresh eggs. She didn’t mind working on the farm – for all she knew, money was worthless right now – but she knew that she couldn’t stay for long. The farm would probably soon be visited by the aliens, who’d want food for themselves – if they could eat human crops. Alex was fairly sure that they’d like Earth as a new home; they wouldn’t have bothered to invade if Earth was useless to them. Unless they were just nasty bastards, of course – and that was quite possible. They certainly hadn’t bothered to demand surrender before they started shooting.
She tossed the thought around her head as she ate, trying to guess what the aliens would do next. There was no way to know. The last messages she’d seen on the internet reported that the aliens were securing London, Manchester, Birmingham and a number of other cities. There had been clashes between their forces and human mobs, clashes that had gone very badly for the humans. Somehow, Alex wasn't surprised. The aliens seemed to prefer brute force to anything more subtle and nothing stamped one’s authority on a situation like brute force – provided that there was enough brute force, of course. But the aliens controlled space. They could lose control of large parts of Earth and still win the war. Hell, for all she knew, they were deliberately provoking humans to attack them so they could wipe out potential resistance fighters before they could get organised.
“Ann and Sue dropped in this morning,” Jean said, as Alex was chasing the last of the egg around her place with a slice of bread. “They left their home yesterday and camped out before making the rest of the drive here. Ann had to pay for petrol the old-fashioned war, damn it. Maybe the aliens can do something about the price of fuel while they’re at it.”
Alex frowned. The old-fashioned way? It took her a moment to realise that Ann had probably had to go down on the petrol station’s owner to get fuel for her car. The thought was sickening, but it was probably only a taste of the future. If the aliens had blocked off supplies of fuel as well as food, the civilian population would lose its mobility very quickly – once the rest of the fuel ran out. The RAF had had stockpiles of aviation fuel for its aircraft, but the aliens might have destroyed it. And that would leave what remained of the RAF permanently grounded.
“Maybe they can,” she agreed. “What did they say about the roads?”
“The aliens have been broadcasting orders for people to stay off the main roads,” Jean said. “Speaking of which” – she clicked the radio and music started to echo out – “listen to this. Someone will start speaking in a moment…”
“People of Britain, my name is Alan Beresford and I am the sole remaining member of the British Government…”
Alex listened in disbelief as the message played out and then started to repeat. She knew of Alan Beresford by reputation – no military officer could afford to be a virgin where politics were concerne
d – and she knew that he wasn't well-regarded, but outright treachery? The message played again and again, before music started to fill the airwaves once again. Maybe Alan Beresford believed that there was no way to resist the aliens, or maybe he’d just seen a chance for advancement and taken it. There was no way to know for sure.
“That bastard,” she said, finally. “He’s sold us out to them!”
“So it would seem,” Jean agreed. She picked up Alex’s plate and stuck it in the sink. “Go wash your hands and then report to the man outside. He’ll keep you busy until lunchtime.”
Darkest Hour 1: Their Darkest Hour Page 11
