All night Finn and everyone in the company worked on strategies to minimise their exposure. It was virtually pointless though — the market collapsed before anyone could save any real value. Billions of dollars were wiped out in a matter of hours. By 7 am the next day an announcement was made that the markets would be closed, which meant there was no trading — and there was nothing more Finn could do. Exhausted from the last 24 hours, Finn left the office.
Rather than go home, Finn decided to go to his parents’ house on Sydney’s Northern Beaches for a week or two. Driving out of the city Finn considered how perverse it was that it was such a beautiful morning, the sun already hot and the sky cloudless. The drive up on the empty roads took him only 30 minutes, but he napped through most of it.
Pulling into the drive, he groggily got out of his Jeep and walked in the unlocked front door. Surprised his parents hadn’t heard his car in the drive and come out to greet him, he hesitantly entered the bright and airy home and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. The walls of the hallway were studded with family paraphernalia: photos of Tom, Finn’s dad, from his days as CEO of the Nine Network, photos of Sonia, Finn’s mum, in various yoga and meditation poses and, most embarrassingly for Finn, the usual gallery of naked baby pictures and formal portraits of him when he was young, in his Army Reserves uniform.
He found both parents in the kitchen, glued to their screens which were flashing up news about the invasion. Finn’s parents started when they finally noticed him. Sonia immediately jumped up and gave her son a hug and a kiss.
‘Finn, you look terrible, poor thing. I’ll make you some brekkie’. She immediately started bustling in the kitchen, her customary flowing sarong rustling with her movements. Finn noticed some new streaks of silver through her black hair. It seemed more peppered with white every time he saw her.
Tom stood and stretched, taking his attention away from his screen to grab his son in a rough hug. Although Finn had almost 40 years and four inches on his dad, he was always impressed with the vitality and strength of the old man. Tom chalked it all up to the miracles of his daily surf.
‘Dad, hey, what’s the latest?’ asked Finn.
‘Hey kiddo. I don’t think anyone knows what’s going on.’ He rubbed his tanned, bald head in a weary gesture. ‘I’ve been watching the news all morning and they just keep repeating the same thing. The Chinese have amassed a fleet of a hundred ships up in the Gulf of Carpentaria.’
‘But why? What do they want up there?’ asked Finn.
‘I have no idea, son, but whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good.’
Back in his office and 24 hours after his rude awakening, James Hudson was a man in torment. He knew what he had to do and he knew that outwardly he was doing his job. Inside, however, his mind was tied in knots. He kept rolling the same questions through his mind: ‘Why now? Why me?’ He was paralysed by the questions and desperately fought against his obsessing, knowing it would get him nowhere. Still, he couldn’t help but feel cheated. He’d come to power at a time of unprecedented peace and prosperity for the region. How could anyone expect him to be capable of handling this?
General Stephens knocked and entered the room. ‘Sir, you wanted to see me?’
‘General, come in. Sit down.’ Hudson beckoned him to the couches near the fireplace in the corner of his office. Stephens strode briskly towards the couches and sat down. Whenever Stephens was in Hudson’s office, he had to marvel at the man’s image-consciousness. He’d had this statesmanlike office created in the underground complex at great taxpayer expense — Stephens couldn’t even venture a guess at how much the installation of the real fireplace would have cost, considering the logistical problems in piping the smoke out of such a high-security subterranean structure.
‘What an unbelievable situation we seem to have found ourselves in, General — the Chinese are going to invade our country and try to take over our bloody mines. The only good news is it sounds like they’re not interested in our cities or infrastructure… for now. And it seems, from what you and Draven are saying, our military is powerless to do anything to stop them,’ said Hudson wearily.
General Stephens looked down at his hands, which were clasped in front of him. He paused for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. He raised his head and, looking directly into Hudson’s eyes, began to speak with controlled urgency. ‘Sir, our initial military response is critical to the future of this country. May I be very clear in saying that our forces will not survive a head-on assault against the Chinese.’ Leaning forward he continued, ‘The Chinese think they can sweep down the centre of Australia and take over the mines with minimal fuss — and they’re right. If we try to scramble our forces into a forward line of defence, we will be crushed.’ He paused, praying that this was sinking in with Hudson.
Hudson listened, nodding calmly. He appeared to be absorbing what General Stephens had to say.
‘Prime Minister, Australia’s greatest and most potent line of defence is not our military, it is our environment and our geography. Let China in. Open the door and welcome them! Let the desert sort them out and make them realise that this is not an easy country to invade. Let’s use nature to our advantage. Then when they have been exhausted by the journey to our mines, we attack in a planned and organised fashion.’ General Stephens’ big frame was perched on the edge of the couch now, talking with more enthusiasm than he had intended so early in their meeting. He sat back to mirror the prime minister’s body language.
‘I see your point, General Stephens, and, if we didn’t have the Australian public to answer to, I would be inclined to implement this Cosgrove Response.’ Hudson now looked weary. Given the day he had been through, a man half his age would be feeling jaded.
‘But, sir, the Australian public cannot dictate military strategy. We have only one chance of defeating the Chinese. If we send our forces to the Gulf they will be annihilated. If we are smart and hold back, we have a chance of pushing them back to sea.’ Stephens could no longer hide his emotion. ‘Mr Prime Minister, I implore you not to send our forces to the Gulf. It will be the greatest mistake this country has ever seen.’
Hudson raised his eyebrows, frowned and sat back. Immediately, General Stephens knew he had gone too far. He wanted desperately to convince the prime minister not to cobble together a head-on military defence, but this was not the way to do it.
Hudson was eerily calm. ‘I know what you’re saying, General, but what’s right or wrong for this country will be determined by me and me alone. Thank you for your counsel, but I will be instructing General Draven to deploy our forces to the Gulf. I will not go down in history as the prime minister that let an invading army in the back door without putting up a fight. That will be all, General Stephens.’ he added brusquely.
Excusing himself, General Stephens stood and walked to the door, his face flushed, hands shaking and body prickling from the sweat on his back.
Opening the door he turned to Hudson. ‘You may be known as the prime minister who put up a fight, but you’ll also be known as the leader who signed the death warrant of thousands of young Australians.’
Hudson just stared into the fireplace as General Stephens closed the door behind him.
Seeing General Stephens coming out of the office, Lieutenant Sarah Dempsey strode over to him. ‘General, how did it go?’ she inquired, walking quickly to catch up with him as he strode down the hall.
‘Not well,’ replied General Stephens, not slowing his pace one bit.