“Those have to be made in Britain,” Hanover concluded.
Dashwood nodded. “The craft were designed to be very simple,” he said. “We can build one here, but the Americans can’t for some time.”
Hanover scowled. “The problem, for the Americans, is the choice between improving what they have, or to move directly onto 1960s-era stuff, like the B-29. For us, we have to build enough Hawks to ensure our own safety, and then prosecute a strategic bombing campaign against Germany. Rather makes you wish we were back in the Bronze Age, right?”
“Yes, Prime Minister,” Dashwood said. “We can put together a couple of test models without absorbing too many resources.”
“I hope so,” Hanover said. “Now… first second satellite in a week, then…?”
“We have forty satellites,” Dashwood said. “Assuming that production stabilises, and there are no unforeseen problems, we should be able to lift them all in two-three months. We’re prioritising reconnaissance satellites for the moment, but we should put up a couple of communication birds as well.”
“Good thinking,” Hanover said. “Everything is going to blow… I can feel it in my bones.”
“Yes, Prime Minister,” Dashwood said. “Sir, give us six months and we’ll begin lifting entire space stations.”
Hanover lifted an eyebrow. “Well, in bits and pieces,” Dashwood admitted. “You’d be astonished how many volunteers we had from the RAF, including a handful of people with real space experience.”
“After the Transition, I’m not sure that anything would astonish me any longer,” Hanover said. “Still, make sure that they are volunteers.”
“Hell, we’ve got civilians getting in on the game as well,” Dashwood said. “Did you know that if you can reach LEO, you’re halfway to anywhere? They came up with some devices on the cheap, such as an MMU, that would be far cheaper than anything the Ministry ever came up with. Sir, these people are prepared to invest their life savings in the project!”
“Enough, I surrender,” Hanover said, holding his hands up. He chuckled, remembering the war bonds fight in Parliament, a battle he’d lost. “Major, if they’re investing, will they want to go to space?”
Dashwood nodded. “They’re even talking about limited companies and so on,” he said. “Prime Minister, we need them to do this.”
“Then use them,” Hanover said. “I’d better work up some protective legislation to distract Parliament. One thing; don’t get too much bureaucracy involved, that’s what fucked the ESA.”
Dashwood relaxed slightly. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ve also taken the liberty of arranging waivers for the civilians on the project.”
“Good thinking,” Hanover said. “Good luck, Major; get us into orbit.”
House of Commons
London, United Kingdom
29th April 1941
Kenneth Barton, Leader of the Opposition, stood up to speak. Parliament was in a grim mood; the MPs from Newcastle and Aberdeen had been talking about the Newcastle Riot at great length. Aberdeen hadn’t seen any riots, at least not yet, but it was hosting a sizable American force nearby. The Orkney MP, where the new American base was being built, had no complaints; the islands hadn’t seen so much development since the Second World War.
Barton smiled. That statement had drawn chuckles. In hindsight, he suspected that that had been the reason that the old Scot had made the statement. Still, there was a lot of bad feeling in the air; Parliament had become used to thinking of itself as a power again, once the Blair era had ended, and the collective body knew that the new government was asserting itself.
“To ask the honourable member,” he said, “why the riots happened, what will be done to the perpetrators, and what steps will be taken to prevent a reoccurrence.”
Hanover stood up to answer. As always, he was clad in a neat suit and tie, wearing a white jacket that contrasted with his dark hair. Barton frowned; the collapse of the coalition government had been expected to weaken Hanover’s government, but after both the BNP and the Muslims had joined Hanover… well, his position was as strong as it ever had been. Barton shook his head in amazement; the mere fact of the Transition made the Prime Minister the most powerful man in the world – and Hanover was living up to that.
“In short, my honourable friend, the riots happened through a series of misjudgements and mistakes,” Hanover said. “We… did not anticipate American reaction to our largess and standards of behaviour. In some cases, American servicemen took drugs they were unused to, and thought that some… female actions were an invitation. Under the influence, some of them committed crimes.
“To add to the confusion, the American military police thought that they had the right to take action against both their servicemen and some of our people,” he continued. “Their methods were not very restrained, and caused some more casualties – and some of those were among our police, which had also responded to the growing chaos.”
An ugly muttering ran through the room. “Finally, police SWAT teams restored order and arrested a number of people, including Americans and British men,” Hanover continued. “Some of them were innocent and released, several rapists remain at large.”
He looked around the room. “For the moment, we have placed almost all of them on bail, on certain conditions,” he said. “We could arrest and charge them, but it would cause a diplomatic fight that we don’t need, and they would be going into danger anyway. We have insisted that any known perpetrator remain in the barracks; if they survive the war they’ll face charges afterwards.
“As for preventing a reoccurrence, future American visits will occur only under escort,” Hanover concluded. “Hopefully, as they become more used to us” – for a moment, he seemed to be struck with a realisation – “there will be fewer incidents.”
He sat down. Barton noticed that he was tapping away on a PDA. The MP for one of Newcastle’s districts, a grievously fat man, hauled himself to his feet.
“With all due respect, Prime Minister, that is intolerable,” he said. Barton winced; the man might be a member of his own party, but after the riots he’d probably move over to Hanover’s party policies. “At the very least, those who raped the flower of Newcastle’s womanhood should be seriously punished, to say nothing of those who killed.”
Hanover snorted as a ripple of amusement ran through the room. “Every American who landed in Britain had their DNA recorded,” he said. “Every rapist – every American rapist – was weeded out. Unfortunately, they don’t have a monopoly on the crime.”
“And then will the government see to providing emergency support for rebuilding?” The MP demanded. “The damage is substantial….”
“You’ll have to knock off the cookies,” someone shouted, and the chamber laughed.
Hanover glared around him until the room quietened. “The government will take up the matter of composition with the Americans,” he said finally. “That issue requires some further exploration.”
Hanover was too practiced a politician to let out a sigh of relief as the session finally ended, but he left the chamber as soon as decorum permitted. As per his command, Stirling met him outside and accompanied him back to his office.
“Some of the Americans might have caught AIDS,” Hanover said flatly. “Not all of the… trysts were rapes, after all; some prostitutes slept with them willingly. Hell, they might have left behind some war babies.”