Invasion

by Christopher Nuttall

  Someone shushed him as the Governor continued. “I have no communication with the Federal Government,” Governor Brogan continued, “so I am declaring a state of emergency on my own authority.” His voice was growing stronger as he continued to speak. “The aliens have hit at least a hundred targets within Texas and, reports suggest, hundreds more within the Continental United States. I ask all civilians to remain calm and remain in your homes. Rioting and looting will be dealt with severely and perpetrators will be arrested and tried under martial law.”

  A voice echoed out in the darkness. “Is that legal?”

  “I don’t know,” Joshua answered. It didn’t sound legal, but he’d had enough experience to know that ‘legal’ was often just a matter of interpretation. The Governor probably couldn’t get away with ordering looters gunned down in the streets, but the police, National Guard and State Defence Force would have very liberal rules of engagement. “At the moment, he could probably get away with anything…”

  “There is no cause for alarm,” the Governor said. There were some laughs from the small group. “So far, we have received no confirmed reports of any cities destroyed, including Washington. I was able to speak, briefly, to a member of my family in Washington and confirm that the city remains intact, although several nearby military facilities have been bombed from orbit. There is no reason to believe that the aliens intend to start bombing cities. Normal services and facilities will resume as soon as possible; the power outrages will be brought to an end as quickly as we can. Please remain calm and remain in your homes.”

  “There’s someone who isn’t listening,” someone said, nodding towards the outskirts of the city. A massive line of cars, vans and trucks was heading away from the city, heading outwards to an uncertain destination. Some of them would have friends in the countryside, others probably intended to camp out somewhere…and still others would have nowhere to go. “I wonder what the Governor will do about them.”

  The radio was silent. Now that it had been brought to his attention, Joshua could hear the sounds of a riot coming from the inner city…and a handful of shots, fired by police or gangsters. It sounded like war had broken out on the streets; a line of police vans drove past the apartment, heading towards the riot. The noise of smashing glass and screams rose up from the distance. He looked over for Mr Adair, hoping to convince him to remain at the apartment and not go to the bank, but he couldn’t see him. His daughters, Sally and Jane, were sitting on one of the chairs, staring up at the sky…but there was no sign of their father. He could only hope that the two girls wouldn’t be orphans by the end of the coming day.

  Joshua stood up, nodded to the handful of others who had remained on the roof, and walked slowly back down to his flat. The door had been left ajar when he had left and it a matter of moments to put the kettle on for a cup of coffee. He’d expected the power to fail completely, but instead there was enough for boiling water; he made himself a cup and sat down in front of the television. Unsurprisingly, it was still useless; he flicked through channel after channel, only to be confronted by static or warning messages. The satellite network was completely gone. Televisions still used ground-based systems as well, but those seemed to be gone as well, either through alien action or the system hadn’t adapted to the disaster very well.

  On impulse, he checked his laptop. He’d connected it to the internet through a landline, so it should still work. His normal connection service was down, but he linked into a secondary network and was relieved to discover that part of the internet still functioned. It wasn't what it had been a day ago – the internet seemed to be missing hundreds, probably thousands, of web pages – but he was at least able to log on. No one seemed to know anything; the more reputable forums merely confirmed what Governor Brogan had said, while the less reputable ones were full of horror stories, including the destruction of Austin. Seeing Joshua was still alive, he paused long enough to debunk that rumour, and then started to write up his own notes. It was possible, barely, that someone out there would be interested.

  It all seemed so petty now.

  Chapter Ten

  Never awake me when you have good news to announce, because with good news nothing presses; but when you have bad news, arouse me immediately, for then there is not an instant to be lost.

  -Napoleon

  The United States National Command Centre (Virginia) had been constructed in absolute secrecy and, unlike some other bunkers with the same purpose, had never been revealed or leaked to the media. It was an open question if the Russians, or the Chinese, knew about its existence, but as far as the public knew, it didn’t exist. They would have thought, if they had bothered to think about it at all, that the President had gone to Cheyenne Mountain and the complex there, not somewhere much closer to Washington DC. If the aliens managed to capture and interrogate humans from the ISS or from the ground, they wouldn’t be led directly to the President.

  Colonel Paul James was relieved to see that the President looked much better in the light. He’d been taken quickly, once the fighting had begun, to the complex, but he’d almost been broken by the sheer scale of the attack. He’d had a few hours sleep, a shower and a shave and almost looked human again; Paul wished that he shared that feeling. He’d been up all night trying to collate the data as the United States – and several other nations – fought a war with the aliens, one that they were losing. The aliens were still faceless, their goals and objective still unknown, but they were winning their war. The human capability to fight a war in space, such as it was, had been almost completely destroyed.

  The main briefing room was a combination between a control room, manned by operators with the highest level of security clearance in the United States, and a proper briefing room. A table, at the centre of the room, provided seating for the President, his Cabinet and the handful of senior military officers at the complex, while a large map of the world illuminated one wall, overwhelmed by red icons. The aliens had targeted their projectiles with malice aforethought; they’d hit military bases, docks, bridges, ships and even power stations. Parts of the United States were in darkness, their power suddenly cut down by the alien attack, other parts were almost normal and probably wondering if the alien attack was all a dream. It would take time for the truth to sink in, Paul knew, and by then, it would be too late. If they hadn’t stocked up on food in the past weeks, they might be starving pretty soon. Even at a glance, it was obvious that the global economy had been destroyed overnight.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Colonel Perkins, the commander of the base, said, “the President of the United States.”

  “Please be seated,” the President said. His voice sounded better as well. He waited until Deborah Ivey, Tom Spencer, General Hastings and a couple of unnamed military officers took their seats and then nodded to Paul. “Colonel James, if you would…”

  Paul bit down a smile and began. “As you know, Mr President, last night the alien starship – the lead alien starship – arrived in Earth orbit and attacked,” he said. “The principle target of their attack was apparently the International Space Station, but they have also attacked hundreds of targets within the continental United States and the rest of the world. Every country that was obviously developed, as seen from space, was targeted from orbit, with a very high death toll, both civilian and military. Information is still flowing in, so we may have to revise the estimates, but at the moment we are looking at over ten million dead, worldwide.”

  A small display lit up as he spoke. As he covered each of the items, a pop-up window opened on the display, providing further information. “The military communications network has been seriously disrupted by the loss of all of our satellites, military and civilian, but the landlines have barely been touched. Readiness data on each of our bases is transmitted hourly to the Pentagon and other secure military communications hubs, providing a multiple level of redundancy in case of nuclear attack. At the moment, we can confirm that almost every USAF base, USN harbour and civili
an airport within the United States has been destroyed. Army and National Guard bases were attacked as well, but several survived almost untouched, while others were too large to be completely destroyed. Fort Hood, for example, was hit, but most of the base remains intact and usable. That may change, of course.”

  The display changed to show a naval map. “The aliens also hit our ships,” he continued. “Based on incomplete data, we can confirm that every carrier in the world – ours, British, French, Russian, Chinese – was sunk from orbit. We have independent confirmation from an agent in Gibraltar about the Charles de Gaulle and its destruction from orbit; British sources confirm the loss of Invincible and Queen Elizabeth. The other ships were treated on more of a hit-or-miss basis; anything that was clearly capable of launching aircraft was sunk, as was anything that could launch missiles towards targets in Low Earth Orbit, but the remaining fleet was generally ignored. Several hundred civilian ships have been lost as well, but again, the targeting seems almost random.”

  “They don’t care about the seas,” General Hastings growled. “Why should they care about the water when they can land anywhere they damn well please?”

  “Yes, sir,” Paul said. “The damage to our infrastructure has been very severe. So far, we have confirmed that no cities have been destroyed, although a handful of weapons fell within cities and caused considerable damage, but most of the weapons fell outside the cities. Interstate junctions, dams, harbours and power stations were hit, including a handful of nuclear power stations.”

  The President blanched. “Do we now have radioactive clouds drifting over the country?”

  “No, Mr President,” Paul reassured him. “The three nuclear power stations that were hit were all over-designed to ensure that an airliner crashed into them wouldn’t release radiation or nuclear waste. FEMA is working on the plants now, but it looks as if the worst effect so far is multiple power outrages. Entire sections of the country have lost all power, while other sections have fallen back on backups and secondary systems…”

  The President held up a hand. “We can sort out those details later,” he said. At any other time, damage to even a single nuclear power plant, let alone blackouts over a large part of the country, would have been a major disaster. Now, it was just incidental damage, barely worth mentioning. “What happened in orbit? How badly did we hurt them?”

  The display clicked back to the image of the ISS, seconds before the aliens opened fire. “The ISS was apparently hit at least once by an alien weapon and opened to vacuum,” Paul said. “NASA won’t commit itself on the possibility of prisoners being taken, but observers watching from the ground, through the most powerful telescopes we have, report that the smaller alien spacecraft recovered most of the ISS before it fell into the atmosphere. It could be that some of the crew survived and were captured, but we don’t know enough to be sure, one way or the other. There were definitely no survivors from the Discovery; the shuttle was clearly blown into atoms. The final telemetry from the ship confirmed that it went down fighting.”

  “They’re going to get medals,” the President said, firmly.

  “We attacked the aliens quite heavily with the ground-based missiles and laser weapons, as well as laser-armed aircraft,” Paul continued. “Our losses in laser aircraft were total. The download of readings from the aircraft, before they were destroyed, suggest that the aliens targeted them with their own lasers, burning them out of the air. There were no survivors from any of the aircraft. Ground-based missile launchers managed to launch most of their missiles before they were destroyed, but…it’s hard to say just how effective they were.”

  General Hastings coughed. “Give us a rough estimate,” he ordered. “What is the best and worst-case scenario?”

  “We know we took out three of the parasite craft,” Paul said, after a moment. “The Russians attacked heavily with their ground-based missiles, both ABM and ICBM missiles, firing them straight up and detonating them in space. They claim to have killed five more of the alien ships, but the claims are impossible to verify. There are two more that we damaged, we believe, and a third that was subjected to a heavy pounding from the airborne lasers, but again, it’s hard to say for sure. We know they launched upwards of twenty-five parasite craft; at best, we took out ten between us, at worst, only three…”

  “And they’ve killed millions of us,” Tom Spencer said. The Secretary of State looked almost broken by the night. Paul didn’t blame him; if he hadn’t had his duties, knowing what he did, he might have been broken as well. “What the hell do they want?”

  “The Earth,” General Hastings said. He scowled over at Spencer. “You talked about the aliens having to be friendly, but now…now, look what they’re doing to us!”

  “Enough,” the President said. There was an unaccustomed firmness in his tone. “Colonel, what do you believe the aliens will do next?”

  “The analysts here and at other command complexes believe that the attack can only mean one thing,” Paul said. “They’re nothing, but the opening moves of a full-scale invasion of our planet.”

  The President’s face paled. No President, outside impractical fiction, had had to live with the possibility of the United States being invaded. No one had the ability and motive to launch such an attack. The Soviet Union, at best, could have thrown away a few parachute divisions in a suicidal attack on the United States, but what would that have gained them? Mexico or Canada could have marched over the border, but one was friendly and the other was weak…and neither one could mount a significant military challenge. It would be the shortest war on record…and shorter still if anyone else had been insane enough to try. It was a geopolitical reality; barring an all-out nuclear war, the United States could not be attacked significantly on its home ground…

  But the aliens could change all that.

  “They’re coming here?” He asked. “Where do you think they will invade?”

  Paul looked up at the display. It hadn’t been easy to collate all the data, but it all pointed to one thing; the aliens had global ambitions. A handful of smaller countries had been spared, mainly powerless countries like Somalia or Zimbabwe, but almost everywhere else had been struck. Saudi Arabia, Iran, Australia, India, Pakistan, Europe…hell, Europe was much more compressed than the States. The damage had to have been more than just significant. The aliens had gone after everything that could have been a threat to them and plenty more that could never have been more than a minor problem.

  “It’s impossible to tell,” he said. He’d studied the reports, but so far, there was no sign of where the aliens intended to land. They’d bombarded the United States heavily, but they’d done the same to Europe, Russia and China…and they could go after any of them. He’d seen scenarios from a direct landing in Washington DC to a landing on the other side of the world. What would the aliens use to guide them in choosing their landing sites? “If I was commanding their forces, I’d go here, but…”

  He broke off. “There’s no way to know, Mr President,” he admitted. “All we can really do is watch them through the observatories and see what they decide to do.”

  “But they can’t seriously think that they can take on the entire world,” Deborah Ivey said. “There’s six billion humans on this world and plenty of them are soldiers, or armed to the teeth and…”

  “They’re not all concentrated in one place,” General Hastings said. “They’ve sunk too many of our ships. If they landed in Europe, we couldn’t get a force over to help them without getting them sunk on their way, getting them all killed for nothing. It’s a pretty effective form of divide and conquer and if they take out all of the industrial areas of the planet, they can take over the rest later, assuming that invasion and settlement are their motive.”

  “But they could just destroy us,” Spender protested. “Why would they even bother to keep us alive?”

  “Perhaps they want slaves,” Paul said. It didn’t seem very likely; in his view, a civilisation that could cross the stars w
ouldn’t need slaves, but it might be a status thing. There were plenty of rich men and women in America – and indeed the entire world – that got a kick out of having servants; some of them probably wished that they were back in the days when slavery was legal. “Or maybe they want to integrate with us, but on their terms, or…”

  “And if that’s the case, they must have a plan to deal with the current government,” the President said slowly. “They haven’t attempted to talk to us at all?”

  Paul shook his head. It was the point he found most ominous. The attacks on the planet showed a frightening lack of concern for civilian causalities; he had the nasty feeling that Washington had been spared only because it wasn't a military target, rather than any concern for the preservation of human life. Human rules of engagement might be very different to alien rules of engagement; for all he knew, any human with a weapon was a legitimate target. Humans had come up with a whole mixture of rules of war, some practical, some the work of dreamers…but the aliens might have a whole different attitude. They might regard genocide as a practical and moral solution to a problem, rather than a horrific crime to be avoided at all costs.