As the weeks passed, the Russians worked hard to bring Europe back to a state of normality, offering incentives to civil servants and engineers to return to work. Aided by vast numbers of Russians, the civil servants found themselves serving as Russian agents, registering each and every member of the European population from the Ukraine to the Spanish border, excepting only the neutral Swiss. Trained workers found themselves working on rebuilding the shattered transportation infrastructure; farmers found themselves ordered to forget EU regulations and produce as much as they could, paid in Russian money. The Eurobank had been seized; Russian money had become the only legitimate form of tender and only the Russians used it, paying those who worked for them, who in turn used it to pay their own people.
Other factories were reopened and offered contacts with Russian firms. Europe had a high-tech infrastructure second only to America’s… and on a fair level of equality with Japan, and a vast amount of technical workers. They found themselves working for the Russians, paid well to improve the Russian technical base and rearm the Russians for a future war. As more and more factories came back online, stripped of the red tape and European regulations, business even began to pick up; the Russians only had small taxes on business. All over Europe, workers were asking the same question; was it really so bad under the Russians?
The unfortunates in the various detention camps might have given them an answer. The Russians had put nearly two million people in the camps, from soldiers and policemen to insurgents and protesters. They now worked through them again, ensuring that they had the prisoners all registered, before organising their final disposition. The protesters were informed that for their crimes against the new authority, they would be sentenced to a year of hard labour, helping to clear up the wreckage from the fighting. With new ID cards and uniforms, they found themselves attached to labour gangs and forced to work for a living in their home cities. They were the lucky ones; the remains of the male insurgents, beaten and cowed, were shackled and put to work clearing up the damage they had caused, including burying bodies and removing explosives; the death rate rose rapidly. The female insurgents were sent to Russian brothels; their fate would be worse than that of their menfolk. As a final slap in the face, their food rations included pork; many starved, others broke Islamic Law and ate it to survive.
But they were not the most unfortunate. The soldiers and policemen, those who had survived, had remained shackled in their camps under heavy guard. Day after day, the helpless captives would see new faces as the soldiers who had returned to their families instead of fighting were rounded up and added to the camps; night after night, bursts of gunfire split the air as attempted escape attempts were foiled with deadly force. Fed only on gruel and water, the prisoners lost their strength rapidly; they wondered if the Russians intended to simply kill them all without shooting them. One day, however, everything changed; bound and secured, the prisoners found themselves loaded onboard trains that headed east, directly to Siberia. As the weather grew colder, they wondered if they would ever see their homelands again…
Time passed. In the west, Russian forces gathered and a massive logistical effort began, focusing on the final stage in Operation Stalin. Europeans living nearby were removed from their homes and sent elsewhere, clearing the ports for Russian use alone; forced labour was used to clear up the damage from the fighting, preparing the ports to support the largest amphibious invasion in the 21st Century…
The Invasion of Britain…
Chapter Forty-Three: Mr Luong Goes to Washington
I have ever deemed it fundamental for the United States never to take active part in the quarrels of Europe. Their political interests are entirely distinct from ours… They are nations of eternal war.
Washington DC, USA
The paranoia of the Secret Service had only increased a thousand-fold, Ambassador Andrew Luong realised, as he entered the Security Zone around Washington DC. These days, there were only a few regular air flights to Washington directly; only the highest ranking military officers and congressmen were permitted to enter the area of airspace surrounding the centre of America. Twenty-three years of seemingly endless conflict against a determined and multi-faceted enemy had left the American people all-too-aware of their own vulnerability; while Europe soul-searched over the creation of a European Identity Card, Americans not only had cards, but other tricks as well; no one could be allowed near the world’s number one terrorist target without their identity being checked and rechecked. Luong, once one of America’s most important Ambassadors, was no exception; they treated him like a suspect right from the start.
Some elements of the paranoia seemed ridiculous, Luong knew; there was a reason for everything. They checked his blood, the implants hidden under his neck, and his eye-patterns, before escorting him into a secure room and ordering him to undress, inspecting each and every body cavity before presenting him with a White House issue suit — ill-fitting and very uncomfortable — and escorting him through a line of heavy weapons into the heart of the American Government. One enterprising terrorist had literally managed to make a vest that had exploded when it reached a certain temperature; the attack had come far too close to success and it would never be allowed to happen again. The White House, the Senate, and the Pentagon were all secured; the workers either lived in them, or they went through the security precautions every time they entered or left the compound.
He smiled as they reached the White House; it was no surprise that the vast majority of Americans chose to telecommute these days, assuming that they weren’t one of the unlucky ones drafted into the army. America had full conscription for the war, but not all of the males could be taken for the army; a third of the male population served in one of the armed services, volunteers first, then those who would benefit from a term in the services. It had had an effect; public health was up and crime figures were down. The problem was that America was vastly overstretched and, as he had said to Langford, not well disposed towards Europe.
CNN, which had become more right-wing than Fox following the horrific murder of several of its journalists, had reported on some of the demonstrations. Spanish, Irish and German Americans had demonstrated for helping their countries, but there had been counter-marches of Americans who remembered two long wars to save Europe from itself, only to be rewarded with scorn, disdain, and droll comments about empires. Luong knew that America had made mistakes, including allying itself with Saudi Arabia, but they had meant well; wasn’t that enough?
It wasn't. European media had looked for the worst and found it; even some American media had followed the same path of endlessly nitpicking and ignoring all the good that had been done. He was sure that the Shias in Saudi Arabia had welcomed the Americans who had protected them from the mobs that had set out to kill them all, but no, the media had focused on protests at the American presence, because the Shias didn’t trust the Americans. Luong didn’t blame them, but he blamed the media; the Shias had thought they were going to be abandoned like so many other allies of America. And then Iran, and then Mike Collins, and then…