There was a hiss as water cannons came on, spraying furious gusts of water towards the protestors. The water was drawn from the mains, this time, providing a nearly infinite source of freezing cold liquid. Many protestors, drenched to the bone, would have thought better of being in the protest moments after they’d been hit, but the ones behind them wouldn’t let them retreat. The water started to push them back, sending many protesters falling to the ground as they tried to seek shelter from the water. He allowed himself to hope that they’d succeeded in breaking the protest…
He saw the objects flying through the air before he quite realised what they were, too late. The grenades detonated beside the water cannons, blowing them and their operators apart in brilliant explosions. A great blast of water roared into the sky, leaving drops falling on police and protesters alike… the protesters howled and roared forward like a single living entity. He caught sight of young teenage girls caught up in the crush and felt a moment of pity, until they lunged forward at the police. The policemen fell back as their lines fell apart; it wasn’t until he happened to glance towards where the Captain had been that he realised that someone had shot him. There was a sniper on one of the surrounding buildings, picking off the police commanders one by one. They hadn’t even heard the shot over the sound of angry protesters scenting victory.
“Fall back,” Robin yelled. The police lines were wavering. Few had been really enthusiastic about facing the protesters and it was clear that they were losing control. Several policemen with only a few months experience had taken to their heels and fled. “Get back to the second lines, now…”
The mob surged forward and he found himself facing a young man with a shaven head and a pair of knuckledusters. He lashed out with his baton, sending the man crumpling to the ground, before the protesters trampled over his victim and kept coming. It was all he could do to back away slowly, rather than turning and joining the others in flight. He’d never faced such a situation in his entire life. Behind him, he heard the sound of gas being deployed and grasped his mask. He’d had one sniff of the gas during training and that had been quite enough. But somehow he doubted that it would be enough to stop the protesters…
His nerve broke and he turned, running for dear life. The next set of lines might be enough to stop them, or it might fall… and then the protesters would be able to pour into the buildings and rip the core of the collaborator government apart. And then the aliens would have to govern London on their own.
Somehow, he didn’t think they would let it get so far.
“Get everyone up to the helipad,” Rivers ordered. Alan barely heard him. The attempt to disperse the protesters had failed badly, not least because someone was clearing their way, picking off police commanders. He found himself looking at the other buildings, wondering which one held the sniper — or snipers. There might well be more than one. “Sir, we have to evacuate this building.”
As a child, Alan had been frightened of heights and reluctant to enter tall buildings. That old fear came back to him as the building shook, suggesting that the protesters were breaking in through gates that were supposed to be sealed. Perhaps the police had fallen back deliberately, allowing the lynch mob a chance to gain entry and wipe out the collaborator government. He looked over at Rivers, wondering if the Chief Constable had ambitions to take over, before dismissing the thought. Rivers could have turned the police against him without needing to stage a riot.
“Come on, sir,” Rivers said, catching him by the arm and half-dragging him towards the door. The CEO who’d owned the building had placed a helipad on top of the massive skyscraper, allowing him to fly in and out each morning without having to drive through London. Alan’s government had planned to use it to keep certain movements out of the public eye. “We don’t know how long it will be before they get up here.”
Alan nodded, trying to remain dignified. It wasn’t easy. “Where are we going?”
“The only place we can,” Rivers said. “One of the alien garrisons outside the city. And pray to God that they’re not feeling trigger-happy today.”
Outside, on the roof, a gust of wind almost sent Alan to his knees. The entire building was shaking, as if it was on the verge of being blown over. Somehow, with help from Rivers and one of his men, he managed to climb into the helicopter and close his eyes. His entire body was shaking with fear. The sound of the engines grew louder and then he felt the helicopter lurch into life. It seemed to hop into the air, falling back for a heart-stopping moment before settling out and heading away from the building. Alan opened his eyes and stared down at the crowd below.
It struck him, suddenly, that the resistance might have hidden an antiaircraft team nearby, that they might have staged the entire protest to catch him when he was vulnerable. He opened his mouth to insist that they landed at once, before realising that the pilot wouldn’t be able to hear him over the noise of the engines. Instead, he stared out at London, feeling the old fear crawling through his heart. If they were shot down, there would be no hope of survival…
London was burning. He could see plumes of smoke from where rioters were looting shops in the richer part of town, while the crowd of savage humanity seemed to have no end. It was easy to imagine what was going on down there, the frenzy of the lower classes as they worked out their class anger on defenceless targets. And then they would become savages, looting, raping and burning their way through London. He felt anger pushing away his fear as the helicopter banked away and headed westwards, up towards the alien positions around the city. How dare they lift a hand against him?
Tra’tro The’Stig had to fight down his fear as he dismounted, alarmingly close to the mob of humanity thronging through the area. There were thousands of the creatures, yelling and screaming as they raged against their leaders, against the few who had been smart enough to realise that they were beaten. The whole idea of a protest march was alien to those who served the State — surely, even the humans could not be so foolish as to allow protests from their juniors to shape policy. The’Stig, still in command of the mixed remains of several units, felt nothing, but contempt. Didn’t these humans have the wit to know when they were beaten? Didn’t they know that further resistance would only result in a great many deaths for absolutely nothing?
Behind him, more troop transports and tanks had arrived, bringing a large and powerful force right to the heart of the collaborator government. From what they’d heard through the grapevine — officially, they were only told what they needed to know, as determined by their superior officers — the rioting humans were tearing through the offices owned and operated by the collaborator government. The’Stig wasn’t sure what they hoped to achieve. The computer records that detailed all of the registered humans weren’t stored with the human government, but outside the cities at the Land Force Base. Even if they burned down the entire area, they would achieve nothing more than irritating the Command Triad. And they weren’t even going to get that far.
He hefted his weapon and took aim into the mass of humanity. They seemed to become aware of him at the same moment, changing to lunge towards the troopers and their armoured vehicles. It was absurd. What possible harm could they do to armoured vehicles? Sure, some human antitank weapons could inflict harm on the tanks, but they had none. The only weapons they had were sticks and stones, which might harm the troopers on the ground, yet they wouldn’t be enough to win. If they were smart, they would have realised that they were beaten and surrendered.