Their Darkest Hour (8 page)

***

“They’re sending in their tanks, sir!”

Major-General Sir Alan Robertson
nodded, sharply.  After some thought, he’d established his command post in the Houses of Parliament, assuming that the aliens wanted to take Parliament relatively intact.  They didn't seem to be
that
concerned about many of the other historic buildings in Central London, but it made sense.  It would have been easy for them to take out the civilian government from orbit if they’d simply wanted them dead.

But his force was in an untenable position – which, he admitted to himself, he’d known about long before the aliens actually landed.  The aliens seemed to be bringing in more reinforcements and their supplies of Stinger missiles were running low; it seemed that the aliens did have some form of effective countermeasure.  Besides, he didn't want to shoot down another craft and see it crash in London.  The team he’d positioned in the London Eye had reported that fires were spreading out of control from where one of the alien transports had crash-landed.

“Send in the Javelin teams and tell them one shot each,” he ordered, sharply.  The British Army had ordered thousands of Javelin missiles, but most of them had been stockpiled in the countryside or deployed to Afghanistan.  No one had thought to equip the Household Division with more than a handful of antitank weapons.  Who in their right mind would have considered that they’d be needed?  “And then tell them to head for the tunnels.  They’re to get out of the city and link up with the rest of the army.”

The ground shook violently as the aliens started bombarding Whitehall.  Alan swore under his breath, realising that the aliens were clearly using orbital or drone surveillance assets to track his men.  Their advance was almost unstoppable now, particularly not with what remained of his two companies.  There was no point in getting more men killed for nothing.

“Sound the retreat,” he ordered.  He keyed his radio and issued the command.  “Get the lads out of here...”

High overhead, an alien drone detected the signal, locked onto his position and fired a single missile.  Major-General Sir Alan Robertson died before realising that he was even in danger.

***

“We’re to get out of here,” a sergeant was yelling.  “Move, you stupid...”

Chris picked himself up, just as the alien advance broke through one of the makeshift defence lines.  He fired a quick burst from his SA80 in the hopes of slowing the aliens, just as he realised that they’d blocked him from reaching the tunnel that should have led down into safety.  Before he had a moment to think about it, he turned and ran towards the embankment, jumping down into the Thames.  The river would carry him downstream and he’d be able to link up with what remained of his unit once he got out of the water.

Behind him, London burned.

Chapter Six

London

United Kingdom, Day 1

“My God.”

From his vantage point, Robin had been able to see some of the fighting – too much of the fighting.  What he’d seen had left him silently grateful that he wasn’t close enough to see the rest of it.  The aliens had landed in force – two of their transports had been shot down, including one that had crashed into the other side of the Thames – and taken Whitehall.  God alone knew how many soldiers had been killed in an ultimately futile last stand.

He looked down towards the streets.  They had been emptying with remarkable speed as people fled the battle, heading towards their homes in the hope that they might find safety with their families and friends.  Robin suspected that there was going to be no such thing as safety in London for the next few weeks, if not ever.  What the hell did the aliens want?  Part of him refused to believe that there
were
aliens, but the evidence was undeniable.  The flames and smoke rising up in the distance suggested that the world had indeed turned upside down.

“Sergeant,” one of the other policemen said, “what the hell do we do?”

Robin silently cursed him for asking that question.  In truth, he had no idea
what
they should do, because the Met had never seriously considered that London might be invaded.  The last time the British police had considered the question had been back during World War Two, when – if he recalled correctly – they’d been ordered to maintain public order, but avoid giving any help to the Germans.  But the Germans had never invaded and the plans had never been put to the test.  What would the aliens do now they’d won themselves a city?

His radio buzzed, suddenly.  The jamming seemed to have stopped, suggesting…what?  Logically, the aliens would have wanted to keep the police and military forces fragmented, but perhaps their own communications were affected by their jamming.  Or perhaps they were going to be hunting down any remaining soldiers and hoped that some of them would be foolish enough to use their radios.  Or perhaps…he pushed the thoughts aside as a cold voice, utterly inhuman, echoed out over the airwaves.  The aliens were finally making their demands known.

“Attention,” the voice said.  “This is
Ju’tro
Oheghizh, speaking for the Eridian State.  All humans are to pay careful attention to this message on pain of punishment.  Planet Earth has been conquered and is now part of the Eridian State.  Your leaders have been captured or killed; your military forces have been scattered.  Further resistance is futile.  Accept your new position in the universe or you will be destroyed.

“All civilian humans are to remain within their homes until instructed to report to the occupation authorities,” it continued.  “Any attempt to impede the passage of my forces will result in severe punishment.  Human military and police personnel are to turn themselves in to my forces.  All weapons are to be surrendered to the occupation authorities.  Failure to report will result in…”

“Severe punishment,” Robin muttered.  The aliens didn’t seem to hide their intentions.  There was no guff about coming to liberate humanity from human leaders; nothing, but naked force.  And they’d already taken London.  “And what happens if we report in?”

The message came to an end and then started to repeat itself.  Robin listened a second time, but there were no differences – and no clue as to the fate of police and military personnel.  If he recalled correctly, Iraq had collapsed into chaos partly because of the
absence
of a proper police force, yet the aliens might not care about chaos on the ground.  Their attacks on London had shown a frightening lack of concern for civilian casualties.  He glanced up as another alien transport roared overhead, dropping what looked like heavy crates towards the ground.  They’d probably start pushing out from Westminster as soon as they felt strong enough to brave the surrounding city.  God knew it wasn't as if there was much in the way to stop them.

“We go to the nearest police station,” he said, finally.  Scotland Yard might be gone, but it was far from the only police station in London.  “We take the weapons and we conceal them somewhere before they think to secure the stations for themselves.  And then we wait and see what happens next.”

He watched as the policemen leapt to work, grateful that someone had finally told them what to do.  Robin shook his head as they started to run through deserted streets, avoiding crashed and abandoned cars, hoping against hope that they would find someone more senior to issue further orders.  He didn’t have the slightest idea what to do next.

***

Ju’tro
Oheghizh stepped off the shuttle and onto Earth, looking around him with ill-concealed interest.  The humans seemed to have built habitations suitable for smaller creatures than themselves, although many of their buildings had been levelled by the first wave of assault troopers.  A handful of humans, several wounded, sat in the middle of the grassy park, watched by armed guards.  It was difficult to read human expressions, but some of them were clearly watching his troopers and considering how best to escape.  Others seemed to be completely unaware of their surroundings.  The discovery that there were other races out among the stars was always a shock to planet-bound races, even ones who had conceived the possibility long before they reached into space.  He doubted that the humans would be any different from the other races brought into the State.  It would take time to hammer their new status into their heads.

“The lead assault units were badly hurt,”
J’tra
Rahol reported, as soon as they exchanged salutes.  “The humans fought bravely and well.  We’re still finding traps left behind in the ruins – their small size gives them an advantage that cost many of our lives before we adapted.”

Oheghizh narrowed his snout.  “And the surrendered humans?”

“Many appear to be in shock,” his subordinate reported, as they walked into the makeshift command centre.  Oheghizh had hoped to set up in the human buildings, but if the humans had had time to leave surprises behind them, it would be unduly risky.  “I do not believe that we have captured any truly important humans.  Their leaders appear to have fled before we landed in their city.”

“Unsurprising,” Oheghizh said.  There had always been an awareness that the human leaders might have been able to get out of their city – London, they called it – before the assault force landed.  Some of the Land Force Commanders had called for targeting the human leadership with strikes from orbit, but the Command Triad had overruled them.  They needed to bring the humans into the State as quickly as possible and having their leaders alive would make that easier.  It would take too long to rebuild human society directly.  “Do we have any idea of their current location?”

Rahol tapped the computer display.  “The humans appear to be attempting to regroup their forces to the west,” he said.  “A number of human military units apparently escaped destruction during the opening minutes of the bombardment, including a number of air defence units.  We have targeted active sensor emitters from orbit, but they appear to have learned from experience and are keeping any remaining active sensors turned off.  Their effectiveness will decrease rapidly as we have destroyed their bases and supply dumps.”

He pointed one long finger at the human road network.  “Our own forces are landing around the cities, trapping the human civilians within our grasp,” he continued.  “There have been a handful of engagements between our forces and human military units, but most human units seem to be attempting to avoid contact.  We have broadcast our demands for surrender on all human military and civilian channels.  So far we have received no reply.”

Oheghizh nodded, slowly.  The humans were no doubt shocked by their sudden fall from power on their homeworld.  Given time, they could probably regroup and launch a series of counterattacks that would cost the State dearly – and put a hold on his personal career ambitions.  Logically, they needed to maintain the pressure as much as they could; practically, they needed to get set up on the ground before the naval forces surrounding Earth insisted on withdrawing most of the transports.  The humans had managed to shoot down a number of shuttles, more than any of the planners had expected.  Logistics were going to be weaker than anyone had expected when they’d drawn up the plans to invade Earth.

But it wouldn’t last.  The humans were just as dependent upon supplies to keep their forces moving as the State – and their supply dumps were flaming ruin.  Their effectiveness would fall sharply over the next few days, leaving them without the ability to do more than harass his forces.  And then they’d be in control and well on the way to turning Earth into a productive outpost.  The humans were certainly more capable of labouring for the State than several other races he could mention!

“Keep grouping our forces for a push westwards,” he ordered, finally.  There was no way to know how the great mass of human civilians would react to their presence.  The human government seemed to believe that keeping the civilian population disarmed was a good thing – although some of their measures had seemed so absurd he’d wondered if there was a translation problem – but it was clear that they’d never quite succeeded.  Orbital observation indicated mass unrest in parts of the human city.  It couldn’t be tolerated.  The Land Forces would have to open up the roads to allow supplies to be moved around the region.  “And expand our patrol perimeter.  I want the humans to feel our foot on their chest.”

***

Garden House School had been a primary school yesterday, when the world had made sense and aliens were just figments of human imagination.  Now, it had been turned into a makeshift medical centre, following emergency plans that had been drawn up sometime during the cold war.  Classroom tables had been pushed together and covered with blankets, allowing the wounded somewhere to wait for treatment.  Fatima wanted to close her eyes and rest, but there was no time.  The small number of medical staff in attendance were doing what they could, yet there seemed to be no end to the wounded.  And the civilian volunteers were doing more harm than good.  She bandaged up a wound that really needed an operation in a proper hospital, knowing that she might have condemned the patient to a slow and unpleasant death.  Any half-trained doctor knew the value of a sterile environment, but they didn’t have a hope of maintaining one in the school.