The news hadn’t – quite – broken, but only because of the reluctance of the major newspapers and television channels to commit themselves to a definite statement. By now, pictures of the downed German aircraft in Suffolk and the newly-arrived Queen Elizabeth had been posted widely on the internet, and some of the speculation was growing closer and closer to the truth. The Speaker had even hinted at possibly forcing the Government to come to the House – and only the support of the Leader of the Opposition, Kenneth Barton, had prevented such a disaster. Steps had to be taken, and without the day’s grace the government’s task would have been hopeless.
His pager buzzed and he glanced down at the message without comment. The American technicians at RAF Feltwell had been taken into internment; the German ambassador and his staff – along with a handful of German citizens – had been taken into custody as well. Hanover didn’t think that the German Ambassador would have declared for Hitler, but he didn’t see how the British could have taken the chance that he might have. More practically, they wanted – he wanted – to keep as tight a grip on future knowledge as possible.
The massive room, refurbished since the ‘botched’ terror attack of 2011 – ‘botched’ meaning that the MPs had gotten lucky – was growing noisier. The MPs were filling the room, taking their places on the benches and waiting. Hanover allowed himself a moment to glance around; MPs from the Conservatives, the several scattered Labour parties, the Liberal Democrats, the Greens – and the British National Party. Hanover scowled; he’d half-wanted to have them interned as well, on general principles. After the riots of 2011, the new leader of the BNP had managed to have ten MPs elected; even though they were his supporters, Hanover tried to have as little to do with them as possible.
Bastards would have to have such good discipline, Hanover thought, wishing that the Conservatives had such good party discipline. Howard Smith came into the room, followed by his friend Margaret Darter – Hanover had expended a great deal of effort trying to obtain proof that they were lovers – and took his place in the front bench. Hanover concealed a smile; Smith looked tired and worn.
“The room will now come to order,” Madam Speaker said, banging her gravel. “All rise for the Prime Minister.”
Smith stood up and nodded once to the room, trying to smile at the assembled ranks of MPs as they sat down. He didn’t manage it; the speech he’d helped write was burning through his mind. He wished that he'd been abroad, that he’d been smart enough not to accept the nomination for Prime Minister, rather than face the MPs with such news.
I should have agreed to hold off information release for a week, he thought, and shook his head. If it could ever be proved that he’d covered it up, or acted against the interests of Britain, the MPs would force through a vote of no confidence. The confusion that had followed the restructuring of the European Union – I guess that’s something I don’t have to worry about again – had left Parliament dangerously intolerant of weakness or perceived treachery.
“Madam Speaker, Members of the House, I wish I came before you with better news,” he said. It wasn’t the sheer brilliance of Churchill’s speeches, but what could one say to a nation out of time? Even the greatest prime minister would have had problems. “A truly remarkable event has happened, one that gives us both great opportunity and forces us to face considerable problems requiring immediate action.”
It sounded weak, he knew. He would have preferred to announce a war with America than a trip through time. “When we lost communication with the outside world, we began to attempt to discover what had happened, and then we realised that the world outside was radically different from what we remembered.”
Silence. They knew what was coming. “We have been transported back in time,” he said flatly, and the House let out a collective breath. “It is now July 7th, 1940. Across the channel, Hitler holds Europe in his grasp, and he is preparing to launch an assault at us. Historically, that never happened – but that might not stay true! We may face an invasion at any moment, for our technical base represents an awesome prize to Hitler, allowing him to dominate the world.”
He waved a shaky hand at the display. The colour picture of Paris, with the German flag over the Eiffel Tower, appeared. In quick succession, other pictures, of Germany, of Belgium, of the Queen Elizabeth, appeared in front of them, finishing with the picture of the crashed German reconnaissance plane.
“We are at war,” he said flatly. “Even if we tried, it is impossible to compromise with the sheer unadulterated evil that Hitler represents; we have to mount a major military effort to save ourselves, let alone defeat him for good. We also have to handle major social disruption; for better or worse, we have to act as if we were alone in the world. There will no longer be any electronics from Japan, movies from America, oil from the Middle East… or food from Africa.”
There was a nervous shuffling through the assembled ranks. “With the concurrence of the Leader of the Opposition, I have decided to invoke the Defence of the Realm Acts, as revised in 2010. The House will be invited to scrutinise all decisions, as per the standard procedure, but we do not have much time. Already, the Germans are learning about our weaknesses; we have been skirmishing with German aircraft over the Channel. It won’t be long before Hitler launches the Battle of Britain; and we have to handle it.
“I invite you all to consider this an opportunity,” he concluded. “I do not know how we got here, I do not know if we can ever return, but this is an opportunity to correct the mistakes of the past seventy years. Towards this extent, I wish to announce the formation of a War cabinet; Kenneth Barton has agreed to take a place within the cabinet.” He looked around the room. “I have the greatest of faith in the British people,” he said. “If we stand together, we can survive this test and become stronger than ever.”
Hanover smiled to himself. The message had been just right; the assumption of semi-dictatorial DORA powers, combined with hints of personal weakness and the formation of a collective government. Collective government; the blame was spread so thin that no one noticed.
He sighed; it was his turn to speak. Standing up, he unfurled his notes and began to speak. He spoke of firm practicalities, technical data instead of dreams; a speech of a type rarely heard in Parliament. The television cameras would broadcast his speech to the world, and he would look the practical man of the administration. After all, Smith was clearly unsuited for the role of Prime Minister in a wartime state.
“We have three urgent problems that need to be handled quickly,” he said, after the preliminaries. “First, we have to prepare for a possible invasion. Second, we have to prepare to handle a massive food shortage. Third, and finally, we have to cushion the damage that will happen to the economy. I propose three basic courses of action to handle the problems.
“First, the Army is already deploying – absent a few units otherwise engaged – to the east coast, near Dover. That region will be placed under martial law; all local government, police services and other emergency services will be under the command of the duly-appointed commander, General Ascot. In addition – and in order to avoid a collapse of the welfare state – we will be conscripting unemployed young men of military age.” He scowled. “Quite frankly, we simply cannot begin to pay the dole until we have a better grasp of our financial situation, and a dose of the military life would be good for them.