It took Kurt a moment to realise she was speaking of Gayle. “I didn’t know,” he said, wondering why Penny hadn’t told him. But she wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it, would she? “I…”
He shook his head. “I’m going to request reassignment,” he said, shortly. “I don’t want to go back into interstellar space, not now.”
Rose frowned. “You may not have a choice,” she said. She sounded understanding, but also concerned. “Kurt…”
“I don’t care,” Kurt said. He’d practically deserted his family when the call-up came. Now, there was no one left to look after his children. “My family… I can’t leave my daughter here, not now. I’m damned if I’m going back into space when I can take her somewhere else.”
He turned and looked out the window as the ATV drove down a road that had once been considered a safe place to learn to drive. Now, it was awash with water, just like the refugee camp. He shook his head, then nodded in grim resolution. Penny was not going to stay there, no matter what he had to do. She was his daughter…
… And he’d failed her enough already.
Chapter Three
“The situation is grim,” General Stewart said. His voice was almost emotionless, but there was a strong hint of Lancashire in how he spoke. “We are facing the greatest crisis in British history.”
Ted listened carefully as the General outlined the situation. The western part of the country had been badly hit by tidal waves, apart from the parts shielded by Ireland, and millions of people had been displaced. It was worse in Ireland, the General noted, but that was no consolation. Food supplies were stretched to the limit, law and order were breaking down and entire regions had slipped out of governmental control. Several cities had been effectively smashed flat.
“Gloucester and Winchester have been effectively annihilated,” the General droned. He nodded to the map, showing the path the waves had taken as they slammed into Britain. “A number of rivers have broken their banks and may even change course permanently, ensuring we can no longer even rely on our maps. Farmland has been ruined, farmers have been displaced and the rain is making it hard to coordinate relief efforts.”
“We cannot expect any help, either,” the Prime Minister said. “The Americans have lost most of their ports along the eastern seaboard, making it harder for them to send emergency food supplies to us. France and Germany escaped the worst of the blows, but have their own problems with the rain.”
Ted nodded, unsurprised. Any government that prioritised assisting another country’s population over its own would be in deep trouble with the electorate, if it lasted long enough to face a general election. It was quite likely that Britain would be unable to hold an election for several years, at best. The entire country had been thoroughly shaken up and there was no census, no idea how many voters had survived or where they were living. It was a nightmare.
“The situation isn’t much better in space,” the First Space Lord said. “The aliens hit the cloudscoops orbiting Jupiter as well as a number of asteroid-mining and shipbuilding facilities. We’re facing a shortage of HE3 at the very moment we need it desperately to power our fusion reactors. Given enough time, we could rebuild and draw on cloudscoops in the settled star systems, but I don’t think the aliens will give us time.”
“I can’t disagree,” Ted said. The aliens had pounded Earth’s orbital installations badly, crippling the human race’s ability to produce new starships and weapons of war. There were other shipyards outside Sol, he knew, but the aliens might go after them next. “But they didn’t follow through their offensive to actually take Earth.”
He looked down at his hands, thinking hard. In hindsight, Operation Nelson had been easy — too easy. It was clear, now, that a sizable portion of the alien fleet had been tasked with attacking Earth, perhaps even seizing the planet if the defenders had been overwhelmed. He ran through the possible course vectors in his head, trying to decide if Nelson had forced the aliens to attack ahead of time or if it had distracted them from taking Earth. But there was no way to know.
“The bottom line,” the Prime Minister said, “is that the war is on the verge of being lost.”
Ted sensed Janelle tensing beside him. He knew how she felt. Defeatism wasn’t something the Royal Navy tolerated, not since the dark days before the Troubles. But cold logic suggested the human race was in deep trouble. The aliens had crippled humanity’s ability to make war, while their own industrial base was undamaged. Combined with their frighteningly advanced technology, they had a very definite advantage that would only grow more pronounced as the war raged on.
Japan, he thought, recalling history lessons. Japan had launched a war — two wars — against the United States, but in neither case had the Japanese been able to prevent the American industrial base from making good America’s losses and then burying the Japanese under a tidal wave of mass production the Japanese had simply been unable to match. Midway wasn’t the battle that had doomed Japan for the very simple reason Japan had been doomed by the decision to go to war. And yet… the Japanese had believed they had no choice.
And the aliens have more settled worlds than us, he thought, morbidly. Does that give them a larger industrial base?
“The tactical analysts were very interested in your reports from Target One,” the First Space Lord said. “In particular, they were interested in the suggestion the aliens have more than one political faction.”
Ted straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir,” he said. “The data does seem to support that conclusion.”
“They even attempted to open communications with us,” the First Space Lord added. “Do you believe they are potential allies?”
“Unknown, sir,” Ted said. “We simply don’t have enough data to speculate. They may be a national grouping in their own right or they may be an oppressed minority, hoping we will save them from their enemies. They may be able to assist us or they may be unable to do more than provide us with limited intelligence.”
“Intelligence is something we need,” the First Space Lord mused. “We have been unable to get anything out of the prisoners, Ted, and our work on their computer systems have produced more questions than answers.”
Ted nodded. They’d pulled a starchart out of the alien computers that had led Ark Royal and her task force to Target One, but they hadn’t learned anything about alien political factions… assuming, of course, it wasn’t an elaborate trick. Most of the data they’d accessed was meaningless gibberish, he’d been told, something utterly useless without the key to read it.
The Prime Minister cleared his throat. “It has been decided, however, that opening communications with Alien Faction Two may well be our best chance for survival,” he said, shortly. “Admiral Smith; you and a small task force will be charged with travelling to alien space and attempting to open communications with the aliens.”
“Yes, Prime Minister,” Ted said.
He had no illusions. There was no easy way to tell the difference between Faction One and Faction Two, save by watching and waiting to see if the alien ships opened fire. They’d be poking their way through alien space once again, utterly unaware of where they were going or what was waiting for them, hoping and praying to get lucky. It didn’t strike him as a suitable military strategy at all.
But it was also the only one they had.
He took a breath. “Will we be travelling alone?”
“Politically, the world is divided,” the Prime Minister said. “It is unlikely anyone will commit any major starships to the new task force. No one has broken ranks openly, at least not yet, but there have been dark rumblings that some nations are considering trying to broker private deals with the aliens. They might prefer to be Churchill rather than Petain, but…”