“How is he?” Kenneth Barton, Leader of the Opposition, asked grimly. The room seemed to hesitate, shadows flickering on the wall. A Prime Minister had never collapsed; it was a point of pride that Prime Ministers never flinched from what was required. Smith had; history would not remember him kindly.
McLachlan answered, his tones leaden. “He’s been taken to a hospital outside the danger zone,” he said. “The doctors said that it was a heart attack; apparently he’s been under a lot of stress later.”
It was a heartless remark. None of the men commented on it. “Which leaves us with a leadership problem at a time of critical severity,” Hanover said. His voice was cold, hard, and grim. “We are faced with an utterly unprecedented situation; the last Prime Minister to leave office in the middle of her term was forced out; Smith is likely to be ill for months and won’t be able to resume his duties, which leaves us leaderless.”
Barton got up and paced restlessly. “I assume that you have a suggestion?”
“This is an unprecedented situation,” Hanover said. “You do understand the problem?”
Barton nodded grimly. Traditionally, the Home Secretary also held the post of Deputy Prime Minister, and was the designated successor if anything happened to the Prime Minister, although it was no guarantee of the position. Also traditionally, the Leader of the Opposition received the post of Deputy Prime Minister during the formation of a War Cabinet.
“I cannot hold the post of Prime Minister,” Barton said flatly. He scowled; even with the control of a third of the House of Parliament, the Liberal Democrats would not be able to support him. His position would be very weak indeed.
“We have discussed the matter with the Party Whips,” McLachlan said. “For the moment, we have agreed to confirm Charles as Prime Minister, pro tem. The Party will have to decide if they want Charles to continue to hold the post, but the Monarch supports him, so we think that they will fall in line.”
Barton smiled. The reign of King Charles wasn’t too popular with Sir Charles; it must gnaw at the King to have to confirm Hanover as his Prime Minister, even with the certain knowledge that the Liberal Democrats planned to abolish the monarchy altogether. Hanover’s public opposition to some of his monarch’s more… unusual projects, such as aid to immigrants, had not endeared him to the monarch.
“So, all hail Prime Minister Hanover?” Barton asked. He made to prostrate. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“We were hoping that you would continue in the war cabinet,” Hanover said. “We have to face them together, as a united country, and – quite frankly – we need you. Would you take on the position of Home Secretary?”
Barton gaped at him, fighting to conceal his reaction. In almost all war cabinets, opposition members were never given positions of real power. True, Hanover could hardly handle both the Prime Minister-ship and the responsibilities of Home Secretary, but there had to be any number of conservative Party members who could take on the post. On the other hand, it could be a way of attaching blame to him, should the government’s policy fail.
“Yes, thank you,” he said finally. “I would be honoured to take on the responsibility.”
“Welcome to Government,” Hanover said, extending a hand. “Parliament will be meeting later this evening, so I hope that you will attend.”
House of Commons
London, United Kingdom
15th July 1940
The news about the collapse of the Prime Minister, and the selection of Charles Hanover as the Prime Minister pro tem, was received in silence. The gathering of Conservatives and Liberal Democrats around him forestalled any opposition; the vast majority was behind Hanover. The vote of confirmation was perfunctory.
“We are at war,” Hanover said flatly. The mood in the chamber was dark; the desire for revenge was burning brightly. Several anti-war MPs had been bombarded with emails and telephone calls demanding their resignations; several MPs were actually facing demands that they step down.
“We have suffered the largest attack on British soil since the last time we fought this war,” Hanover said coldly. “We have had our citizens slaughtered. We have had blood running in the streets. We have fought as best as we could, with the gloves on and our hands tied behind our backs.
“I say no more,” he snapped, his voice rising. “We have had our noses rubbed in one fact; fascism and democracy cannot exist together. It’s time to say ‘enough!’ It’s time to fight! It’s time to show that the ideals of hatred and oppression cannot exist without good men taking up arms against them! It’s time to make a stand!
“We have argued long enough,” he said, his voice becoming calm. “Maybe we, children of 2015, were not at war with Nazi Germany, but we are now! All that stands in our way is our own inability to recognise that we are at war, with a foe that considers us nothing more than a nation to pillage. We are at war!
“I ask you, all of you, to place your votes now. Are we to declare war, and fight with every weapon at our disposal, or are we to surrender tamely! Consider your people; consider the people that you represent. Would they be safer in a world without Hitler? Madam Speaker, I ask you to call the vote now.”
He sat down on his bench. The seat of the Prime Minister had been left empty; until Howard Smith died or was formally removed from office he would continue to be Prime Minister in name, if not deed.
“I second that motion,” one of the BNP MPs said. “Madam Speaker, I call for a vote now.”
“The vote has been called,” Madam Speaker said. She nodded once to herself. “I ask MPs to cast their votes now; vote ‘aye’ or ‘nay’ for a declaration of war on Nazi Germany.”
In the old House, the MPs would have walked through doors to establish their votes. In the new House, they pressed buttons to establish their voting choices; who voted for what could not be disguised. There was a long pause, and then names and votes began to scroll up on the screen. Hanover pressed his own button, voting ‘aye’, with a flourish. Other MPs hid their hands as they pressed buttons; foolish, as it appeared at once on the screen.
“The vote is 89% in favour of declaring war,” Madam Speaker said. “5% against declaring war; 6% abstentions. The motion is carried.”
“Thank you,” Hanover said. “We will win this war, I promise you that.”
“And I trust that you will keep the House apprised of progress,” Madam Speaker said, a quiet warning.
HMS Trafalgar
Near Denmark
16th July 1940
As it had done for the past week, ever since being surge-deployed from its base in response to the crisis, the submarine HMS Trafalgar extended a tiny radio mast from its conning tower above the water and conducted a quick radar scan of the area. Dawn was breaking and there were a handful of aircraft near Denmark, heading to Norway, but there were no hunting aircraft nearby.
“Bastards must have been moving all their aircraft down to attack Britain,” Captain Tyson muttered, as he activated the radio transmitter. There was no need to fear interception; the signal was too weak for the Nazis’ radios to detect, let alone decrypt the basic communications encoding system. The reply, pre-prepared for the Trafalgar, came back at once.