The Colonel was mildly surprised that they’d gotten so far without being detected, but with the aliens placing absolute faith in their pod people, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all. He sat beside the driver as the armoured truck rumbled through the darkened streets of Washington, keeping a careful eye out for any signs of insurgent activity. It would be the ultimate irony if they were to be stopped by an insurgent attack, but it wasn’t one that he dared entertain. If they were attacked, they would return fire and try to break contact as quickly as possible. There was no other choice.
It wasn’t a long drive from the White House to Andrews, but they had to take a somewhat roundabout route. Insurgents had damaged some roads and others had been blocked to prevent civilians from heading into the heart of Washington, towards the White House. The protesters who had been screaming and shouting outside the White House — first in favour of the aliens, and then against them — had been ruthlessly dispersed when McGreevy had taken up the power of the Presidency. He had no sympathy for anyone who preferred to live in a world of slogans and simple, if impractical answers — as opposed to the real world — but even he was angered by what had been done to the protesters. They’d been beaten, crushed and then sent to a detention camp. Who knew? By the time they were released, they might even have a new appreciation for America. There were countries where protesters were machine gunned on the streets.
He glanced down at his watch, checking and rechecking the time. If all went according to plan, they should be inside the base by the time the insurgents began their attack. The Colonel had been a soldier too long to expect that the plan would go perfectly. They’d covered their asses as best as they could, but when a plan depended on too many uncertain factors, the shit would probably hit the fan sooner rather than later. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of his oaths, both the oath he’d sworn the day he’d enlisted in the army and the oath he’d sworn once he realised that his country was under enemy occupation. Whatever it took, whatever level of personal sacrifice it demanded, he would see his country free.
The thought made him smile. They’d planned to hide from any crisis that threatened the entire country, hide until the collapse had come to an end and only a handful of survivors remained alive. And then they would have come out of hiding and started the long task of rebuilding the country, step by step. It would have been a stronger country, the Colonel was sure, one where politicians knew their place and citizens accepted both the rights and responsibilities of citizenship. Before the aliens, everyone had known the former, but far too few had known the latter. Now… the entire world had received a harsh lesson in what it meant to be free. Freedom was never free. It had to be bought, often in blood.
They turned the corner and headed down Pennsylvania Ave. The buildings were dark and deserted, hardly a light glimmered in what had once been the brightest city in the world. Perhaps there were people hiding there, the Colonel mused, or perhaps the aliens and their puppets had been successful in cleaning out the heart of Washington. They’d wanted a safe zone for their people, hadn’t they? And they’d succeeded, now they had alien troops on the street. The resistance knew better than to engage the aliens directly. They always launched brutal indiscriminate reprisals.
A shot glanced off the window and he started, reaching for his rifle. The soldiers in the truck returned fire with enthusiasm, hosing down the nearby building that had housed the sniper. No other shot came at them, suggesting that they’d either killed the bastard or he’d ducked for cover. The Colonel hoped it was the latter, knowing that the sniper had probably seen a convoy of collaborators and hoped to assassinate one or two. He wouldn’t have known that he was firing on his own people, not that it would have made any difference. The Colonel knew that death came to everyone, no matter who fired the shot or what they had had in mind. And death was always the end.
They rumbled over the bridge, which had been secured at both ends by pod people and a handful of alien troops. The Colonel shivered as he saw their inhuman form, their red eyes glinting in the darkness. There hadn’t been much time to examine the alien defector — and alien bodies always exploded, vaporising the remains — but the doctors had noted that the Snakes probably had better night vision than humans. On the other side, the defector wasn’t actually as strong as a well-trained human soldier, suggesting that if they came down to hand-to-hand fighting, humanity would have the advantage. The defector had noted that if they did fight, the aliens wouldn’t hesitate to use teeth as well as their limbs. He’d even admitted that the Snakes had a form of ritual combat that could be adapted to fight humans.
The Colonel wasn’t particularly surprised. He’d never believed that the Snakes were peaceful, or even that they had never been a violent race. Evolution was a harsh process; Mother Nature was red in tooth and claw. The Snakes would have had to come out fighting, just as humanity had tamed and beaten the lions and tigers and other creatures that had hunted man in the darkness, away from the campfires. They’d done so well that many threats had been rendered extinct. The Colonel sometimes wondered if humans drove so many creatures to the brink of the abyss because, deep inside, they feared them. And if humans felt that way, why should the Snakes be any different?
He straightened up as they approached the gates of Andrews AFB. The soldiers who had once guarded the gates had been replaced by pod people, according to the reports. If the reports were wrong… the Colonel winced as he realised that there were alien troops as well, watching the humans from a safe distance. He hoped that the destruct devices they planted in their own bodies were deactivated; surely, they wouldn’t want to lose one Snake and see the others killed in a chain reaction. Or maybe they wouldn’t care. They weren’t human, after all; maybe they considered themselves expendable. And he knew that humans had sometimes considered their own people less than human, expendable…
The pod people didn’t look particularly alert. Andrews was heavily guarded, after all; the insurgents had generally left the base alone. The Colonel held up the papers and passed them to the soldier, knowing that he might have to kill the man in order to save the rest of America. The pod people had sworn the same oath the Colonel had sworn, but their ability to think for themselves had been stolen by the Snakes. He would have preferred to fight out and out collaborators. Or even the Snakes themselves.
“You may proceed,” the soldier said, finally.
The gates rumbled open, revealing the lane into the base… towards Air Force One and the Snake shuttle, sitting on the runway. For a moment, the Colonel was awed, and then he remembered himself. They were right at the heart of enemy territory, awaiting their moment to strike. He reached for his cell phone, tapped a number into it from memory, and then sent a blank text message. The strike force would be prepared, now. And then they’d come up shooting.
He jumped out of the cab as the truck ground to a halt and waved to his men. They leapt out, forming a protective cordon around McGreevy’s vehicle. The bitch who thought she was President would be safe for a few moments longer. The Colonel glanced over at the aliens, who seemed disinterested in the humans. Perhaps they no longer cared about McGreevy.
A second later, the shit hit the fan.
Chapter Forty-One
Washington DC
USA, Day 73
“Fire,” Mathew ordered.
It had taken hours to slip the assault force close to Andrews. The aliens had been on the watch for insurgents and even the SEALs had felt their skills tested to the limit. A handful of collaborator uniforms and access papers had allowed others to get close to the base, but they’d been very limited in what they could carry with them. The aliens had refused their collaborators anything heavier than their M16s, which was helpful for the resistance, but less useful for attacking Andrews ABF. They’d had to break down the mortars and carry them in to the right position.