by Vance Huxley
Luckily the MiB diverted Patton. “All our guns will work better now we’ve got a real repairer, a rifle club man. Pity his eyesight is buggered or we’d have another good sniper, because Rhys tells me he’s got certificates on his wall.” Scrooge, the MiB, frowned. “Are you taking some of our men?”
“Only swapping. I’ll replace your nutcases with some of the less excitable sort. They’ll be easier for you to keep in line, and won’t fuck or cripple your workforce when they get spaced or pissed.” The General smiled slightly at the cautious look. “Don’t worry. I know you are allies, not conquests.”
“How long do I have to reorganise, sir?” Patton still didn’t look very pleased. “There’ll be pissing contests between the Bloods and the new men. I can stop them killing each other, but they’ll shed blood and that’ll take time to heal.” He hesitated, then continued. “I won’t have time to train up the other recruits if the Bloods need that much attention. Hannibal can’t handle that level of shit.”
“Spend a month letting them get to know each other, then make it official. Throw a big party for the Bloods and new men at Guy Fawkes, to settle them in together. Depending on how Rhys gets on, we’ll take the SIMS any time from then to Christmas. We’ll let Julius Caesar head up the other troops, the steadier ones.” The General chuckled. “He didn’t fancy Napoleon any more when I told him we’d be fighting Wellington. Julius has his gang well organised and surrendered them as an intact force, so he gets the rest of the steadier men to train up. Under your overall command of course, Patton, just like Hannibal.” The General looked down a list. “We’ll find the right man to stand at his elbow, in case he gets ambitious.”
Rhys drew a thumb across his throat. “I know just the man.”
“Good, now show me how we get past those SIMS rockets, without losing half the men we’ve just recruited. Better yet, show me how I get hold of one of their experts, someone who can make more rockets.” The General held up a hand as Patton opened his mouth. “Yes, we can make sugar rockets and those mortar things, but then the RAF will call by. The MiB reckon these bloody SIMS things were accurate and kept low.” The three men bent over the map. “I want to be tucked up in this SIMS place by Christmas. Then I can get the Pinkies onside and everyone healed up for a spring offensive.”
*
The Professors:
The Prof, not too many miles north of the General but the other side of the SIMS, was preparing for what would be either another false alarm or a massacre. Hopefully, if it went that way,his students would be doing the massacring. Three cars drove slowly and cautiously through their neighbour’s, Benny’s, territory, heading towards the Mart. They probably wouldn’t get all the way, becauseBenny’s spy reckoned the Lycanswouldbreak their agreement and snap up the soft, juicy target. There’d been two false alarms, but this timeinfrared scopes showed the men lying inwait in the buildings either side of the only open road.
Prof glanced at Benny. “You were right. They took the payment but this time they’re going to stop our cars anyway.” He raised his binoculars. “Tell your men to keep back until we cease fire.”
“Too bloody true.” Benny turned to send a couple of extra messengers to hammer that home. Some of his idiots might forget and charge early. Ahead of the three cars, half a dozen men left a building to walk out and form a line across the road. Five aimed their weapons while the sixth called out as the cars stopped well short.
Prof listened in, through the radio in one car. “They want five times the coupons, or goods and weapons up to that value, and if the cars try to back up they’ll open fire. Chad is arguing but there’s two automatics pointing at him. Are your men ready, Benny?”
“Oh yes. The assholes over there have pulled this stunt before, asked my blokes for extra, but not that much. They know I haven’t got the firepower to deal with those bloody machine guns.” Benny smirked, glancing at the nearest trebuchet before raising his radio. “Three, two, one, fire!”
Prof shouted down his radio. “Get out Chad, now, fast as you can!” Out on the road four of the six men were cut down by a hail of accurate bullets from Benny’s best marksmen, reinforced by Prof’s few decent shooters. The pair with the automatics were the priority and were hit several times, which meant two of the others only staggered. The survivors ran for the shelter of the buildings. “Trebuchets, fire!”
As the three cars reversed as fast as possible, back across the cleared strip between the gangs, six thin lines of smoke arced across the sky. Two dropped a little short but the sides of two buildings, the ones either side of the road with a clear view of the cars, erupted in flame. The weapons that had started firing from the windows stopped abruptly. Benny chortled and lifted his radio again. “Move up, but wait until the bombs stop.” Armed men, with a few of Prof’s students, began to move across the wide border strip between the gangs. They moved in short dashes, lying down in the rubble to get some cover, but few weapons were shooting at them.
“Four and five, up seventy. Three and six, up eighty. Fire when ready. One, adjust fifty left. Two, adjust forty right and up ten.” The trebuchets already had the approximate ranges and bearings. Prof’s message confirmed the switch in targets, and corrected the range after their last attempts. This time the six lines of smoke were staggered, but by the time the last one fell the buildings behind and to each side of the ambush point were catching fire. “Again.”
Some of the ambushers guessed what came next, they ran out of their buildings and tried to get away along the road. A hail of gunfire swept them away but Benny swore and shouted into his radio. “Rifles only you fucking idiots! Save the pistol ammo.” He shrugged apologetically towards the young women making up the nearest trebuchet crew. “Sorry.” Nobody had said anything, but Prof’s kids didn’t like swearing.
Prof smiled quietly to himself, but kept his eyes on the target as another volley landed. With the escape route firmly ablaze, he lifted his radio again. “Well done. The trap is closed. Burn out the rats.” Benny winced, because Prof looked like someone’s slightly dotty granddad but there hadn’t been an ounce of mercy in that. One after another the trebuchets retargeted, three to each rat trap. Flames burst on the houses full of ambushers. The rest of those inside realised what was about to happen, much too late to make a difference. The fighters in the cleared ground between the gangs surged forward into accurate crossbow range, and waited for their targets to run out into the open.
Five minutes later, eight vans and minibuses, all with some sort of armour, drove up and took position front and back of the Prof’s three cars. Ahead of the convoy, Benny’s triumphant Boys were stripping the bodies in the road and front gardens before throwing them into the flames. There’d be plenty of loot, because most of the would-be ambushers took their chances with the bullets and arrows rather than burn. Better still, those semi-automatics had laid in the road throughout the fight so they weren’t touched. Benny had made a deal about them, one for him, one for Prof.
Benny pointed towards the vehicles. “They’ll escort your cars to the Mart, then nip off to finish the rest of the Lycans. We’ll take both those machine guns, but you get one once we’re done.” Fighters were climbing into the extra vehicles, waving weapons and cheering. “If your people wait at the Mart, a couple of vans will call back to let them know it’s all over and escort them home.” He heaved a sigh of relief. “Shopping will be a lot easier now, for both of us.”
“You’ll let any of the ordinary tenants who wants to leave come to join us?” Prof still wasn’t totally sure Benny meant to keep the deal, but there were enough of Benny’s fighters leaving in the vehicles to reassure him there wouldn’t be an attempt to take the trebuchets.
“I’ve had a better idea. How about we share the new tenants and territory?” Benny’s smile might have looked better on a wolf. “Proper allies. We could use the same method to take over a couple more places. I’ll supply nasty sods with machetes, you bring the artillery and strategy and stuff. Then your farmers and
plumbers move in to make the place more profitable.”
“We’ll talk after we’ve got the Christmas shopping safely home.” Prof wanted a long talk to his faculty before he agreed to that. One part sounded very attractive;Benny’s nutcases would be the ones to die in any fighting instead of Prof’s students. He’d just have to be very careful that his new ally didn’t get greedy.
* *
Reivers:
Deep in the Scottish Highlands, the group of heavily armed, ragged figures were more interested in flour and tins of beans than possible Christmas celebrations. “Did we get enough for the winter before they sealed us in?”
A one-armed woman with a sheaf of papers looked up from them. “Yes Hamish. We’ve even managed a bit of a surplus, thanks to Angus and Bruce raiding right up to when the armour sealed the line.” Both paused for a moment, because the raiders had pushed hard and too many hadn’t come back.”The foreign bastards are pulling out of some of the lowlands now the crops are in.Even the fishing boats and work camps are moving south to Inverness. We can scavenge the abandoned villages, if we take care. Better yet, we’ve got your fishing boats and volunteer crews on the west coast, willing to try for extra protein when they can.” The woman looked a little uncertain. “If they can.”
One of the men, Hamish, tried to sound reassuring. “We’ll only operate when we’re sure the visibility is bad enough, with high seas to mess with naval radar.”
“We sent people to snatch a few more boats before the rest leave, providing the weather is bad enough to let them get away. If they can’t, they’re to steal the radars and any gear they can carry.” This gaunt, blue-eyed man glared up at the skies, at the unseen watchers. “Can we help your fishermen, Hamish, set up to protect them in some way?”
“No, Angus. All we can do at sea is run or hide among the small islands. The crews have had plenty of practice while keeping in touch with the outer islands, and they’ll be careful.” Hamish managed a chuckle. “Luckily there’ll be plenty of bad weather to hide us, now winter has set in.”
Maeve sighed, a long, sad, weary sound. “Winter will be a relief for the women and kids with family among the fighters. They’ll get to see them, spend Christmas together.”
“And Hogmanay. We saved a little something for that.” Sudden grief swept over Angus’s face. “For those who have no family now.”
Maeve put her hand on his shoulder, totally genuine sympathy because she’d seen her family die in the snow with Angus’s, torn apart by artillery. “Aye, we know. We’ll be expecting you for Christmas dinner, Angus. You need a little bit of time to relax as well.”
“Until spring.” The grief faded, replaced by savage anticipation. “We can use the winter to get ready, to properly train our new recruits. Then we’ll see how their precious line of steel stands up to some real pressure.” The rest smiled as his sheer confidence lifted their spirits.
*
The Cabal:
Deep under the Lincolnshire countryside, others were definitely confident. They weren’t actually laughing, but most of the people in the bunker looked happy about the harvest and the prospects for the following spring. Owen, the chairman, rapped his gavel. “Henry, I believe you finally have food production under control.”
The bearded man smiled happily. “Definitely. A combination of good weather and getting the work gangs running smoothly has delivered. Now that is perfected, I’d like more land please.”
“You gained thousands of acres when we emptied York. Surely that isn’t all planted up?” Gerard, the youngest member, looked startled.
“No, because a large amount of that is moorland. We can grow sheep or even cattle there better than arable crops.” Henry changed the picture on the wall screen to show a map. “Cornwall would be ideal if we clear Truro. The weather is better there, and the problems in Scotland wouldn’t have so much impact if we had additional production elsewhere.”
“Enough to abandon the far north of Scotland?” Joshua the Army man had leant forward, intent.
“Abandon it? I thought the foreign troops were pushing the Reivers back?” Owen scowled, his previously happy mood extinguished. “Or so the reports say, in among the complaints about losses and the Marts whinging about the difficulties in maintaining supplies up there.”
“We are winning, but it’s costing us. Some bright spark came up with an idea, but Ivy and Henry told me we couldn’t stand the loss of production in the coastal strip.” Joshua beckoned for the control, changing the map to the north of Scotland. He quickly outlined the pros and cons. The long, relatively narrow coastal strip was difficult to defend, so abandoning it would save on men, ammunition and intercepted convoys. Some objected because that would give the Reivers the ruined villages, and a milder place to spend the winter. Any worries about the logistics of moving the work camps vanished when Joshua suggested processing the inhabitants instead, to save food over winter.
Several objected to the Reiversgetting free access to the northern parts of Inverness, a source of recruits, but Joshua had planned for that. Once the farmers and guards were all south of Inverness and the line of steel, the foreign armour could clear the city. The gangs wouldn’t stand a chance against a full armoured assault with close air cover. “The population can be pushed out of the city northwards, which will screw up the Reivers’ logistics for the winter. The brave liberators can’t let all those families starve or freeze, can they?” A big smile spread over Joshua’s face and he smacked a fist into his palm. “The Reivers can’t break through our prepared lines. They will have to come out of the hills in the spring to farm the lowland, to feed everyone next year. Once they have women and children, dependents, in those villagers, an armoured thrust up the flat land will force them to fight in the open for once. They can’t reinforce or resupply with no city or work farms in reach, so with luck we’ll finally break them.”
Smiles grew around the table, especially the one on the RAF man. “Out of the mountains the aircraft will get a clear run at them. We can send the foreign aircrews in to smash any organised resistance because collateral won’t matter, and it’ll be harder to target planes if the anti-air rockets can’t hide.” Faraz sat back in his chair, his voice showing his relief. “If they are broken in the spring, the Reivers won’t be launching any surprise attacks in the summer.”
“If we aren’t guarding or feeding Inverness, that will free up Mart and camp guards. We can use the extra men to push forward with other plans.” Vanna smiled happily, checking her own notes. “They’ll enjoy taking over sealing the cities down south instead of freezing their butts off. Then the soldiers in the cushy billets can earn their keep in London.”
Owen interjected a note of caution. “First we have to give Henry more land to grow food on.”
“That depends, Owen. If Inverness is cleared we don’t have to feed the population, so we can manage.” Ivy looked sold on that idea, nodding her head in agreement andthe discussion descended into details.This clearance wouldn’t be easy, becauseMaurice couldn’t trick this population into a breakout. Inverness and Aberdeen were fully aware of what had really happened in Glasgow.
Elsewhere, Maurice admitted that a growing number had worked out why the population of Glasgow left, and were making plans in case of a power cut. Onscreen, an enclave called Orchard Close lit up, a section at a time, with tiny lights. “This uses wind and water. Since it’s England, we are unlikely to have a drought or a long calm, so losing the piped water supply will just mean them boiling rainwater.”
Ivy watched as the scene reran, taking in the progression as the small clusters of lights sprang up. “Has their electric been cut off?”
“No. This is one solution to us cutting the power like we did in Glasgow, a test run.” Maurice switched to close-ups of Orchard Close in daylight, highlighting the ingenious combination of wind and water generators. He clicked again to show other enclaves, in different cities. The precautions varied from hoarding diesel for generators through to full sized waterw
heels in rivers.
Boris, the diplomat,still looked worried, because the only successful clearance had relied on cutting off the electricity and water. When Vanna explained they’d use armour first, then her contractors to process the survivors, he still wasn’t satisfied. He hunted through papers to find the original assessment, where Joshua had explained the effect on Army morale if they were sent to attack civilians. Boris suggested using foreign armour to clear Inverness, then London, but Joshua didn’t want the Army knowing how much had been gathered together. The numbers wouldn’t matter in Inverness because the regulars wouldn’t see them, but the foreigners would be obvious in London.
“I thought we were leaving London to wither away?” Grace looked startled, then began hunting through her paperwork.
“London isn’t withering.” Maurice’s usual smooth presentation faltered and he looked a little embarrassed. “I have little information, because I can’t keep regular contact schedules or replace agents very easily. What information I have suggests that fewer and fewer are fighting among themselves.” He passed out small notes. “Because, and I quote the meeting printed out here, we should save the ammunition for when the bastards come for us. There is a spreading realisation there, and in other enclosures, of what we plan for them.”
After reassuring Joshua the gangs weren’t organised well enough to organise a breakout, Maurice confessed the whole situation had become messier than he’d thought. He had been working to build some gangs until they were large enough to be a real problem in the future, just to wipe out the stronger democratic enclaves. Wiping them out had become more urgent, because several Army units were making real friends. Since the enclaves in question were both peaceful and relatively democratic, the Army, and the RAF, once word spread, might refuse to target them.
