by Gus Frazer
‘See ya, Mum,’ he yelled down the corridor.
‘Finn, come here. Don’t leave like that!’ Tom called after him.
It was too late. Finn was too frustrated by his father’s narrow-minded view. Throwing himself into his Jeep, he tore out the drive and through the deserted streets of the Northern Beaches, heading back to the city. It was a good thing the roads were empty as he wasn’t in the mood to wait in traffic. The conversation with his dad, the prime minister’s speech, and the events of the past few weeks — everything was flicking through his head and he couldn’t control it.
Thirty minutes later he was coming down the freeway to cross the Harbour Bridge. Blue and red flashing lights accompanied by a small queue of cars greeted him before the bridge. The Jeep slowed to a stop and waited. A man in army fatigues walked up to his window and asked him to step out of the car.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Finn.
‘We’re checking every vehicle that goes over the bridge or in the tunnel, as a precautionary measure. Can I please see your driver’s licence?’
‘Ah sure, yes, here you go,’ Finn stuttered, a little surprised.
‘Sir, please step out of your vehicle and stand here,’ he pointed to a spot two metres from the car.
‘Sure,’ replied Finn, trying to regain his composure — all the fire he had from the conversation with his dad was now gone.
Two other men came alongside the car with long rectangular objects that they ran along the surfaces of Finn’s Jeep.
‘Sir, where are you heading tonight?’ asked the soldier, formally.
‘Home, to Bondi,’ said Finn. He noticed the view across the harbour was different. Where normally the city and bridge were brightly lit, everything was now in darkness.
‘What’s with the lights?’ asked Finn, feeling like an idiot the moment he asked the question. For some reason, he was intimidated by these guys. What did they see when they looked at him? A pussy, most likely.
‘Security measures,’ replied the soldier. ‘Can’t be too careful, what with all that’s been happening.’
‘All clear!’ yelled one of the soldiers scanning the Jeep. With that, the soldier interrogating Finn handed him back his driver’s licence. ‘Move on please, sir,’ beckoning Finn to his car.
Finn got back in the Jeep and made his way home in a daze.
Opening the door to the Bondi Beach apartment he rented from his parents, he noticed how stuffy the air was — probably because he hadn’t been home since the invasion began almost two weeks ago. Opening all the windows and the sliding door to his balcony, he took in the moonlit view across Campbell Parade, onto Bondi Beach and out to the inky black Pacific. A warm breeze from the north carried the smell of salt and humidity. And at this time of year, with humidity came storms.
Later that night, while Finn was lying in bed trying to sleep, the storm broke. Normally Finn loved a good thunderstorm but tonight it just seemed to aggravate him even more. His whole room would light up with the lightning, and the booms of thunder felt like they were directly above him. Going out to the lounge, Finn opened the door to the balcony, the wind and rain immediately attacking him. He stood out there as the storm passed to the north, the rain soaking his t-shirt. Sydney sure knows how to put on a good storm, he thought to himself. He turned from the elemental beauty of the sky and ocean to the slick interior of his apartment. It didn’t look real to him. It didn’t look impressive, like the place of a successful and strong guy anymore. It looked hollow.
The next day he woke late in the morning. It was a Tuesday but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going into work. The week before, his boss had given him and almost all of his colleagues their marching orders. He’d seen it coming. The city had basically ground to a halt and companies were shedding people left, right and centre. The ease with which he’d been fired from his prestigious job underscored to him that his job had not done anything that was actually useful to society. Financially, he was okay for the short term, having saved enough to see him through a year or so comfortably.
Not really knowing what to do, he took a walk down Campbell Parade, onto Hall Street, heading towards his favourite café. The storm had passed overnight and it was now a bright, glorious day on Bondi Beach. Yet it was a strange feeling walking through what was normally a bustling scene of cafés, restaurants, bars and shops. There were very few people about and, though it took a moment for Finn to notice, those who were around were silent.
No one was talking. And really, what was there to be said? thought Finn. Our country is being invaded and we lost the war in record time. What now? Are we supposed to just go back to our normal lives and get on with business like nothing had happened? Finn pondered.
Wandering up to the café, he was relieved to find it still open. He stepped inside, the coolness of the polished-concrete floor striking him immediately. ‘Hey Sophie, can I get one of those egg rolls and a flat white?’
‘Sure, Finn,’ replied the tanned English girl behind the counter. She’d been working there for the last two months and had gotten on a first-name basis with Finn pretty quickly.
Finn watched her bending over to get the roll out of the display unit. Even with everything turning to shit, he was glad to see he could still appreciate a beautiful woman.
‘Here you are. That’ll be 16 dollars thanks,’ she said with a smile.
‘Thanks, have a great day,’ replied Finn politely, walking out thinking how lovely she was. There was something about English girls that Finn found mesmerising.
At home he put on Bob Marley’s Kaya and settled down on the balcony with his screen, going to the news sites immediately, out of force of habit. The news sites were entirely dedicated to the invasion and, not surprisingly, the withdrawal of the troops from the frontline. The headlines were pretty bleak — ‘China Advancing’, ‘Army Morale at All-Time Low’, and ‘Mining Shares Fall to Historical Lows’. All of which was big news, obviously, but Finn was looking for someone to explain what would happen next.
Then, a call came through. It was Chris.
‘Hey mate, what’s up?’ asked Chris, his voice lacklustre.
‘I’m back in Bondi. Dad was driving me nuts.’
‘Cool, I’ll swing by.’
‘Right, see you soon.’
Thirty minutes later Chris walked into Finn’s kitchen, grabbed two beers from the fridge and went out onto the balcony. ‘Crazy times, huh mate?’ said Chris, handing Finn one of the beers.
‘Yeah, don’t really know what to do with myself,’ Finn replied, tipping his bottle at Chris in thanks. ‘Part of me wants to just go out, join the army and fight the bastards out there. The other part of me thinks, fuck it, let ’em have the shitty mines — we can do without them — might be tough for a while but, hey, life goes on right?’
‘Yeah I’m hearing you,’ said Chris, settling into a chair. ‘I’d love to go out there and unleash on those fuckers. I just can’t believe they think they can just steam in here and take over our land and mines.’
‘Well it looks like they’re right, from what’s happening,’ said Finn.
‘Fuckers.’
‘Hey, did you see Hudson on last night? What a pussy,’ said Finn, settling back into his chair.
‘Yeah, I saw him. He looked like he was shitting himself,’ Chris grinned.
‘He must have had a pretty rough few weeks, I guess,’ Finn laughed.
‘Well,’ Chris said, getting serious, ‘he should have seen this coming. It’s been all over the news the last few years that China was building its military presence.’
‘Sure, but to be fair, everyone thought they had India in the cross-hairs, not us,’ replied Finn, staring out across Bondi Beach to the Pacific Ocean.
‘Yeah well, I still think they should have seen this coming.’
That afternoon the boys drank and talked and were joined by a few others. They stayed at Finn’s apartment until around 7 pm, when Finn kicked them all out. There were no bars open an
d besides, he didn’t feel like going out — he wanted to be alone.
After they left, Finn ambitiously opened a bottle of red wine. He still couldn’t help thinking about fighting the Chinese. Even though the government had just rolled over, he still felt a jolt of ambition to join the forces. He wandered around his lounge room, at a loose end. Suddenly, he went to his cupboard and got out an old disc. Putting it in his screen, he sat back with a glass of wine. A young Finn appeared on the screen, in army uniform, with a group of other reservists. They were hauling gear through the bush, joking and laughing. He remembered that weekend — they’d done a mock mission and his team had destroyed the opposing team, taking them all prisoner without a single casualty on their end. He sat there, the images from the screen flickering over his face, absorbed in his memories. He watched his younger self jubilantly high-fiving and back-slapping his teammates at the end of the mission, just before the screen went black.
He remembered why he hadn’t stuck with it. The commitments became too much; he was missing out on valuable party time with his friends and, as his father had repeatedly said, you didn’t win friends and influence people by playing army guys on the weekend. Eventually, missing out on all the fun with his mates while he was staring down the barrel of a weekend spent with smelly young guys, most of whom Finn considered to be dicks, lost its appeal.
He walked away from the reserves, in the end, listening to his dad’s advice that his career should be his main focus. Finn had never before regretted leaving that phase behind. He went on to focus on other things — a high-income lifestyle that gave him plenty to keep busy and stimulated, even if he’d considered his job a joke. But now, seeing how easily the life he’d built had all been dismantled, he almost wished he’d stayed in the army. He remembered how truly challenged he’d felt by it. The feeling was akin to being sidelined in a game of footy, seeing your side miss tackles and get thumped while you’re powerless to do anything about it. Finn wanted to get in there and do something, be challenged. Anything was better than this, doing nothing, feeling useless. After sitting there, dreaming of distinguishing himself with heroics in the field of battle, Finn told himself to quit being an idiot and went to bed, drunk, hollow and depressed.
Chapter 4
The night before, Ambassador Xian had watched Hudson’s address to the nation from the heavily guarded consulate. All the news streams had broadcast the message. Xian felt an immense relief that Hudson had the sense to call it off. Given the withdrawal of troops and retreat, total surrender was now Hudson’s only option.
So far Hudson had played right into China’s hands. It was essential to the Chinese operation that Australia put up a strong defence early, so that the Chinese forces could destroy the bulk of the Australian military before taking over the mines and starting the transportation of resources. It was better to lose lives early than to lose valuable resources later. Had Australia waited for China to move down to South Australia and begin the transportation of iron ore and other materials, the Australian military could have proved far more costly, drastically affecting China’s ability to export the resources.
The second thing China needed was for Australia to capitulate early in its defence. Chairman Yun knew that the Australian public could be the greatest threat or greatest asset to his plans. If the public lost enough heart in the war and could see that it was futile to try and defend the mines, the Australian public would ensure China’s victory. However, Yun was very aware that if the initial defence dragged on, the public would become resolute in its belief that the mines had to be defended at all costs. This would have led to a disastrous campaign for China, costing trillions more and delaying the distribution of the valuable resources they needed so badly. As it was, the media played its role perfectly, beaming the bloody warfare into every Australian home. The prime minister, who was even more predictable, also played his role perfectly, putting up a defence without properly thinking it through and then, when it seemed all was lost, capitulating. Xian did marvel at Chairman Yun’s ability to calculate the future.
A call came through from Hudson. ‘Xian, I believe at this time it would be prudent of me to discuss the terms of our surrender.’
‘Of course, Prime Minister,’ replied Xian, wiping all emotion from his voice. Though he did genuinely believe that what China was doing was right for their people, he felt for Hudson.
‘Can we please meet first thing in the morning at my office?’ requested Hudson.
‘Yes, of course. I will be ready and waiting from 7 am,’ replied Xian.
‘Thank you.’ And with that, Hudson hung up.
Xian immediately called his secretary and instructed her to get Chairman Yun on a secure line. Thirty seconds later his secretary called, ‘I have Chairman Yun on line one, sir.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Xian.
Pressing the button to connect, Xian began, ‘Mr Chairman, I have just received a call from Hudson requesting a meeting to discuss the terms of surrender tomorrow morning.’
‘Very good, Xian. The terms stay as they were — China wants only to control the mines of South Australia. As we have discussed, we will also require unobstructed access to Karumba where we will be building a port from which to export the resources back to China. If he is willing to agree to these terms, there will be no need for further bloodshed.’
‘Of course, Mr Chairman. I will advise you of the outcome tomorrow, as soon as the meeting is concluded.’
‘Things are going as planned are they not, Xian?’
‘Sir, you have predicted these events with unfathomable accuracy,’ replied Xian.
‘The mind of a man is easily understood Xian. It is the mind of men that concerns me,’ declared Chairman Yun in a reflective tone, and with that, he hung up.
Xian frowned to himself, thinking about what Chairman Yun had said. Slowly he realised that although everything had gone to plan and the prime minister was playing perfectly into their hands, there was much that could still go wrong. Australia’s allies had not had a chance to help, which could change in the medium term. Australia’s public might wake like a sleeping giant and resolve to purge the Chinese invaders. There were still so many variables. Still, tomorrow would be a historical day. Never before had a western country been so convincingly invaded and brought to its knees so quickly.
Back in the SOF, James Hudson was talking to US President Eric Allen on the Virtucon.
‘Mr President, with all due respect, we appreciate the men you’ve sent over from the Darwin base, but even another 5,000 troops isn’t going to slow the Chinese down. They are too strong and well equipped. If you can add another zero onto that number, plus air and sea support, then we might be talking,’ said Hudson to the president’s holographic image, which loomed large over the darkened room from a wide screen on the wall.
‘I understand James, I wish there was more we could do,’ replied President Allen.
‘Yes, I wish there was too but it seems there is nothing that can be done. So here we are, being invaded for our resources because of the Chinese export quota scheme we established,’ Hudson leaned forward, ensuring his words were not missing their target, ‘based on your lobbying.’
‘James, please, the quota system was suggested as a way to control the growth of the Chinese economy, something the entire western world was, and still is, concerned about,’ replied President Allen. He was responding to Hudson like an indulgent parent reaching the end of his patience. ‘Far be it for a US President to admit wrongdoing.’
‘Well the so-called “western world” sure seems happy to feed us to the dogs,’ said Hudson, who was suddenly tired, realising the futility of his argument but being unable to stop himself.
‘I don’t know what more to say, James. You know we are plugging holes all around the world, not to mention the situation we have in Canada, which could explode into a military nightmare any moment now. Our military is not what it used to be, James.’
‘And what about ANZUS, our alli
ance? That obviously means nothing now.’
‘Now just hang on a minute there, James. You’ve had it pretty easy with that alliance. What has Australia had to commit for us? A few troops to the Middle East and a cap on how much dirt you can send to China. Alliances work both ways James, and your country over the last fifty-odd years has been asked to do very little.’
‘Well, in times like these you really learn who your true friends are, don’t you Eric? Thanks for nothing,’ snapped Hudson as he reached forward and shut off the Virtucon.
The screen went blank and soft, yellow-toned lights around the perimeter of the ceiling slowly illuminated the darkened room. The few aides that were standing on the periphery of the room looked at one another. No one had ever seen someone hang up on the President of the United States, let alone talk to him the way Hudson just did. Hudson was motionless, staring blankly at the empty space in the centre of the room. Shoulders slumped, he looked decades older than he had only two weeks before.
Moving slowly to the prime minister, one of the young aides leaned in. ‘General Draven is waiting for you in your office, sir.’
Hudson simply nodded, still staring into the centre of the room. Slowly he pushed back his chair and, using his hands on the table to propel himself, stood up. Buttoning his jacket, he breathed deeply into his chest, sucking in his stomach and straightening his back. Composed, he swivelled on his heels and strode out of the Virtucon room, leaving the chair he had been sitting in pushed away from the desk. Behind him at least four people emerged, as if from nowhere, and hurried themselves around the room, prepping it for the next meeting.
As he strode down the hall, he returned to the same thoughts that had been occupying all his waking moments. From the outset of the defensive plans he’d known that their military was doomed. General Stephens was right — of course he was right. Australia could never go head-to-head with China in a military battle. What had he been thinking? He’d been played from the start. He felt like a fool — worse — he felt like the fool who had just handed China the keys to Australia’s back door.
