by Gus Frazer
Striding into his office, Hudson saw General Draven sitting in the guest chair at the desk and, with his peripheral vision, noted the general’s aide seated on the couch behind him.
He immediately went on the offense, using his most officious voice. ‘General, your plan was a disaster; our forces have been destroyed. The Chinese have an open highway to our key mines and the public wants answers — what do you think I should tell them?’ He walked around the side of his desk and lowered himself into his chair, fixing Draven with a level stare.
Draven wasn’t thrown by Hudson’s candour in the slightest. Returning Hudson’s gaze he responded, ‘Tell them what they want to hear, sir. That the man responsible for the defence plan has resigned. That diplomatic relations have been established with China to negotiate an acceptable compromise. I understand you are seeing Ambassador Xian first thing in the morning to discuss terms of surrender and I have here my letter of resignation.’
Hudson didn’t break his stare at Draven. ‘Lieutenant Jackson, you’re excused, please leave,’ he said to Draven’s aide, the whole time staring Draven in the eye.
When the aide had left, Hudson’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think you can simply wash your hands of this mess now? Go and retire in Noosa and live out the rest of your life in the sun? No. It’s not that easy, Draven. I will not accept your resignation.’
‘Sir, you need a scapegoat. I am offering myself. Let me take the blame.’ Draven lowered his eyes to the desk. Hudson wasn’t the only one who’d been ravaged by the past few weeks. Draven had clearly been suffering, too, his skin greyish and slack. ‘It was my idea. It failed. I’m no longer fit to serve.’
Hudson felt no compassion for the man sitting across from him. ‘Paul, you don’t get out of this so easily. The public will be happy to hear that we have pulled our boys back from the killing zone and are taking a diplomatic approach. They don’t need a scapegoat. You’re here to see this through.’
‘Sir, as you wish.’ Draven knew there was no point pushing the issue further. And, as much as the events of the past few weeks had made him question his own judgement, he knew Australia would be better off with him there to advise Hudson.
‘Get out,’ said Hudson, finally averting his eyes from Draven, looking down at his desk as though he couldn’t stand to look at Draven anymore.
Draven left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. So things could get worse, thought Hudson. If Draven was ready to jump ship, what must the rest of them be thinking? What must the public be thinking?
‘Jesus,’ he muttered to himself, fumbling with his pen. He felt the onset of vertigo, familiar to him now, the dizziness taking over his mind. He tried to shut his eyes — not that it ever helped — opening them again to try to focus on one spot in the room.
After what must have been five minutes the feeling passed and he felt more anchored in his seat. But he still didn’t know what to do.
Thinking more clearly now, he asked himself aloud: ‘How did it get to this point?’
He pulled one of the hundreds of reports that had been sent to him since the invasion up on his screen. Entitled ‘Historic Causes of the Chinese Invasion’, he’d seen it before but decided to go through it again, if only to occupy his mind. Pressing play, he sat back and watched the screen as a calm female voice began to speak. Images started flickering across the screen, illustrating the points as she spoke.
‘We can trace the causes of the invasion back to the start of the century. Australia was benefiting from the skyrocketing resource prices due in large part to China’s massive economic growth. Chinese state-owned companies were snapping up resources faster than most countries around the world could dig them up. These same companies were on a worldwide shopping spree, not just buying from Australia. The Congo, Sudan, Myanmar — they were all countries rich in minerals, but in desperate poverty. They were also countries that the West had taken advantage of and then turned its back on. Where the US and the now-defunct EU would lecture and chastise the governments of these countries, China would simply come in and offer them what they needed so desperately: infrastructure. China simply traded infrastructure for resources. This, combined with the resources China could afford on the worldwide market, made the 2010s a relatively stable and peaceful decade, with the exception of America’s ongoing and tedious struggle with the Middle East. It was also a peaceful period because China was able to control its growth. For much of the decade the Australian Government capped China’s growth.
‘The intention was to ensure that growth was evenly spread across the country and that the very poorest people were able to grow in prosperity with the country.
‘This all changed in 2024 when China, on the back of unheralded growth in technology and export since 2020, invaded and successfully took control of Taiwan. For decades the small island off mainland China had been a manufacturing and exporting hub that had long frustrated the Chinese Government. After a wave of nationalistic pride had built up in China, the military went on a recruitment drive that saw hundreds of thousands of young Chinese join the armed forces. Their military had the might and the will to flex its muscle. All it needed was a target. The Chinese Government did not hesitate — the newly appointed Chairman Yun was eager to demonstrate his power and strength.’ Hudson narrowed his eyes as an image of Chairman Yun, standing on a balcony and coolly observing a precise military drill, flickered across the screen.
‘Taiwan bore the brunt of a grossly over-zealous Chinese military. Still, it sent a strong message to the world — China was not pulling any punches. This naturally sent the Asia-Pacific region into a tailspin. Alliances were formed, peace agreements were signed, and promises were made — and broken. Shortly after the invasion of Taiwan, the US President at the time, David Reynolds, made a visit to Canberra. This was likely the beginning of the end for Australia. Reynolds declared that China’s growth needed to be controlled, as the invasion of Taiwan highlighted how great a threat they had become. He explained that it would take a worldwide effort to slow China’s growth and that Australia could play its part. Then-Prime Minister Alexander Hastings, a Liberal, agreed that something had to be done to address China. He instigated heavy quotas on the exportation of iron, copper, uranium and coal to China. This was met with fury from China and the mining companies who enjoyed exporting to China, but Australia stayed firm, trusting in the wisdom of its alliance with the US. Every year the quotas changed and China was forced to make do with what it could get. The mining companies managed to find new customers without any difficulty and at the same time continued to push the prices up. So Australia’s economy was booming while it did its part to slow down the tyrant of the East. Relations with the US were strong — and life in the “lucky country” continued to be blessed. The government put all the money it was making into the coffers and into upgrading infrastructure — such as schools, hospitals, and transportation. Lucrative construction contracts went to American firms, further building the alliance with the US. And because the relationship with the US was strong and their military might was still all-powerful, very little money went towards Australia’s own defence force. The navy’s duties were reduced to the policing of fisheries and illegal immigration. The air force became a relic and the army was reduced substantially, training more for operations in the Middle East to support the American force.
‘And so Australia was deeply unprepared for what has happened. We can only speculate how long China has been planning this. We do know that their timing was sublime; America does have its hands full with Canada and the Middle East. England, even if it wanted to send over troops, is tied up in Africa and the Middle East. They would have known that the help Australia would get from New Zealand, which has amounted to 5000 troops, would be nominal.’
Hudson shut off the screen before the report had finished. He’d seen enough for today. China had, admittedly, played its cards extremely well. Again, Hudson had the feeling that he had been played — royally played — right from the start.
Still, what were his options? Tomorrow he would meet with Ambassador Xian and accept the terms China had specified at the outset — that is, if the Chinese hadn’t changed their minds and their terms.
Exhaustion now took over Hudson as he left his office and made his way through the labyrinthine complex to his bedroom, not engaging in any of his usual chitchat with the staff manning the security checkpoints he passed through. Once alone in his room, he undressed with his eyes already closed and, for the sixth night in a row, went to bed without brushing his teeth or washing. Sliding into the cool sheets, his head throbbing, Hudson had a heavy and dreamless sleep, his conscious, unconscious and subconscious minds all at the point of exhaustion.
Before dawn Matt woke him — not that James knew whether it was dawn or dusk underground, or whether that mattered these days. Getting ready quickly he made his way to his office. He wanted to be thoroughly prepared for his meeting with Xian. Following a breakfast briefing with his team of advisors, his briefing with the Governor-General, General Draven, his deputy and another raft of military advisors, he went to his office to process alone. He wanted to practise the words he would say to Xian, knowing that this was a moment in history that, no matter how terrible and how much he wished it wasn’t him, would be recorded for eternity. He wanted to get this right.
At 7:52 am Hudson received the call from his secretary, telling him that Ambassador Xian had arrived and was entering through the security corridor. Asking her to send in the Governor-General, Draven and his deputy, he felt ready to follow through with the surrender. They filed in silently, which Hudson found unnerving.
‘Bloody hell! Anyone would think we just lost a war around here!’ said Hudson, trying to muster his once-heralded charisma as he moved to a chair that was flanked by comfortable couches. He gestured for Draven to sit to his left, and for Draven’s deputy and the Governor-General to sit on his right.
‘We all know we are making the right decision here. We are putting an end to the slaughter of our men and women out there in the desert,’ Hudson declared as he settled himself into his seat. ‘Once this is over, we’ll see how the dust settles, and I am sure we can continue to push for a more profitable and diplomatic outcome.’
The Governor-General looked at a loss. He was an older man, a statesman from a very different generation to Hudson. If it were up to him he would have sacrificed every last man and woman to defend Australia rather than let it be occupied by another country. However, even he recognised the impossible situation they found themselves in: he just couldn’t bring himself to lighten the situation with jokes.
A knock at the door secured everyone’s attention — they all turned to see a smartly dressed infantry guard open the door, salute and announce the arrival of Ambassador Xian, who entered accompanied by three other Chinese diplomats.
‘Come in, Ambassador,’ said Hudson, rising.
‘Thank you, Prime Minister. I believe you have met Xi Phu of our embassy, Wen Pan, our specialist counsel on Australian law, and Bai Cheung, my Executive Assistant.’ Xian gestured to each person in turn as he introduced them.
After the pleasantries and introductions from both sides, the meeting went as predicted. Hudson accepted, in principle, the terms of the surrender as the Chinese detailed. All that was required was for the paperwork to be drafted and signed. It was all stunningly straightforward.
After the meeting, once everyone had filed out of Hudson’s office, leaving him alone, it felt as though a weight of insurmountable density was lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t normally drink alcohol, but he decided a scotch was what the moment required. Walking over to the liquor cabinet that he had never seen opened, he reached for a bottle of twenty-one-year-old Glenfiddich — the best of the best, according to a Scottish lord he’d once met. Pouring a large tumbler, he muttered ‘What the hell’. Putting the same amount of water in the tumbler, he picked it up and took it all in one swallow. His mouth burning, the warm feeling made its way down his throat and belly. It made him feel more alive than he had been in what seemed like an eternity. Pouring himself another, he took the glass back to his desk where he sat, reclining in the leather chair that had first been used by Bob Hawke in the 1980s. Swivelling left and right, James Hudson arched his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the scotch take effect.
Suddenly he felt sure Australia would thank him — no, praise him — for his leadership and sense in its darkest hour. He would be forever known as the man that steered Australia through these troubled times with gravitas and decorum. Yes, he alone had saved Australia from further bloodshed and death.
Chapter 5
Six weeks since the invasion, and Australia was in turmoil. China’s operation had gone to plan and it had already constructed a transportation link from the mines in the south to the makeshift harbour in the Gulf of Carpentaria. Chinese engineers had created a rail line linking the mines with the Gulf, utilising existing rail lines and new technology that allowed them to quickly lay down the tracks. The Chinese had resisted obvious option of taking over ports in South and West Australia. Their rationale was simple, minimal intervention will result in minimal conflict. By keeping their operations out of sight of the vast majority of Australians’ they could reduce the chances of a protracted resistance.
Iron ore and uranium were now being transported north at an alarming rate. The train line split the country in two, dividing east and west Australia. The Chinese were already working on a second track that would run beside the existing line so that they could double the number of trains heading north to the Gulf.
In stark contrast with the efficiency of China, Australia had become paralysed by fear, disorganisation and racial hatred. Second- and third-generation Asian-Australians were frequently attacked and most were too scared to leave their homes. The government had, of course, tried to quell the racial problems but achieved nothing. The economy had been devastated by the Chinese invasion and with unemployment rising, many young people were out of work and out of patience, venting their anger and frustration at the people who looked like their enemy.
In Canberra, James Hudson was at his wit’s end. His confidence in his leadership abilities had taken a rapid nosedive since his post-surrender celebratory scotch. ‘Well, I don’t know what else to do, Matt,’ he said to his aide.
‘Sir, the Committee for Chinese-Australian Rights has a number of proposed initiatives that could help minimise the violence,’ replied Matt, trying hard to coax a decisive response from the despondent prime minister.
Hudson leaned forward, head in his hands. ‘Initiatives, programs, proposals … it’s all a waste of time. The problem is too many young people are angry and frustrated and they can’t vent it in the right direction. I’m at a loss, Matt. Everything we’ve tried has failed — the economy has flatlined, unemployment is at an all-time high, our international relations are disintegrating and the Chinese are burrowing deeper into central Australia and we’re powerless to do anything about it.’ Hudson looked up at Matt, his face flushed. ‘And on top of all that, I’ve got Premier Bright screaming at me that Western Australia will be next and what are we going to do about it? Well, what can we do? Nothing.’
Over the last few weeks, Matt had seen Hudson deteriorate into a husk of a man, his eyes hollow, skin ashen, stretched and hanging from his now shrunken features.
‘Sir, please, you can’t do this to yourself. Parliament is meeting tomorrow. We need to take the recommendations from the heads of department, make some sound decisions and get them actioned.’ Matt immediately regretted speaking with such fervour. He hadn’t meant to speak so directly to the prime minister, and he waited for a severe chastising.
‘You’re right. Can you talk to the heads and come up with some proposals?’ replied Hudson, waving his hand vaguely in Matt’s direction.
‘What? Sir, you need to do this. You need to lead the heads. I can’t do this for you!’ demanded Matt, shocked into responding bluntly.
Standing up and walking t
o the fireplace, Hudson stared blankly into the flames. ‘Just get on with it Matt,’ he said in a feeble voice. ‘Now please leave.’
Matt opened his mouth, about to say something, then stopped himself. With his brow set in a determined expression, he walked out of the room.
Finding a quiet corner down the hall, he pulled out a coded mobile phone from his suit jacket. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he dialled and, without waiting for a greeting, spoke into it in a low voice.
‘Hey, it’s me. Okay, I’m with you tomorrow.’ Matt paused. ‘So, can I see you tonight? Good, see you then. Bye.’ With that he ended the call, still looking around to see if he was being watched. Once sure that he wasn’t, he strode off to his next meeting, heart pounding.
Early that evening, General Stephens assembled Sarah Dempsey, General Fletcher, Colonel Main and Connor Adams at his house. The gathering had the distinct feeling of dejavu, with everyone sitting on the same couches as the last time they met.
General Stephens stood, staring out the window. ‘So the prime minister has surrendered. He finally realised what a futile exercise it was to try to stop the Chinese. Our troops should never have been in the firing line like that. We should have been smarter — we have to be smarter if we’re to get China out. And now, Hudson’s failing to even deal with the basic elements of running this country.’
Adams looked surprised. ‘Martin, it’s over. The Chinese have won, there is no getting them out now. They’ve already steamrolled South Australia and taken over the mines. The mining companies evacuated the mines and destroyed their equipment weeks ago.’
General Stephens turned to look at him. ‘Nothing is over. Nothing has even begun. It’s time for a new strategy to address the Chinese.’
