“But this is one point where we have to make a decision,” Gabriel snapped. “We have an alien prisoner — and they want him back. Now, do you think that keeping that alien a prisoner is worth the loss of God knows how many of our own civilians?”
He pressed on before Lightbridge-Stewart could say anything. “And what happens to our reputation if we refuse?” He asked. “How many of our own people will turn against us after we lose an entire city?”
“The entire planet is at stake,” Lightbridge-Stewart said. “What decision we make here and now will have an effect on the entire world. What if our captive can tell us how to contact the other intelligent races out there? What if we could get help from someone who could take out the alien starships hovering over our heads, poised to bombard us into submission if we rebel?”
“But we don’t know that we could,” Gabriel said. “We have the insight into their computers — maybe we can get the information some other way. I won’t put so many lives at risk because we have one captive. The dangers are just too great.”
He looked the military officer in the eye. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he added, “but am I not the ultimate civilian authority?”
Lightbridge-Stewart didn’t hesitate. “You are, and if you want to order him released, I will carry out the order,” he said. “However, there are other complications. Moving something the size of the alien cross-country will not be easy. Wherever they find him, they will certainly suspect that he was concealed somewhere nearby and start searching for him. There is a distant possibility that they might come here.”
“It’s a risk we have to accept,” Gabriel said. He glanced at the television. The volume was down, but the BBC had helpfully displayed a ticking clock counting down the seconds to when the alien ultimatum ran out. He’d watched images of desperate rioters battling the police and the aliens, or fleeing out across the countryside like locusts. Others had boarded small boats and set sail for Ireland or the Scottish Islands, where the aliens hadn’t bothered to establish a presence. They might find safety there. “We can abandon this building if necessary.”
“Yes,” Lightbridge-Stewart said. There was a long moment when they both contemplated possible futures. “I can see to his release, if that is your command.”
“It is,” Gabriel said. “Please see to it.”
“Did I do the right thing?”
Sergeant Butcher shrugged. The three SAS men stayed close to Gabriel, while a small unit of soldiers were outside, maintaining a secure perimeter. Gabriel was rather surprised that the aliens or their collaborators hadn’t bothered to investigate the old manor and register the people staying there, but Haddon Hall had been off the official radar for many years. The owners having ties with the security services had advantages for them. Gabriel would have been surprised if they even got taxed.
“I don’t think that there was any right answer,” Butcher said, after a moment. He looked down at the board for a long moment. All of the three SAS men played Chess and Gabriel had found it a good way to relax. “You have to make the decision and then stick to it.”
He moved a piece forward and smiled, thinly. “I used to serve in Africa on missions that officially didn’t exist,” he added. “The locals really didn’t trust their own governments — not without reason. If there was a foreign interest willing to spend big bucks on bribes, the governments would roll over and use troops to clear away the locals if they got in the way. I don’t think you could afford developing a reputation as someone willing to throw British lives away for one alien.”
Gabriel frowned, considering the board. “And what happened to most of those unlucky people?”
“The radicals would arrive and start convincing the people that the only hope was to fight,” Butcher said. “And most of them wound up being slaughtered while the government disguised effective genocide by claiming that it was waging war against radical Islam. There are some truly shitty places out there, boss. Even worse now that the aliens have smashed anyone who might have been able to impose order by force.”
He shook his head as Gabriel moved another piece forward. “Checkmate,” he said, moving his queen into position. “You’re getting better, sir.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said, dryly. “You’re masters at unarmed combat, sneaking about… and Chess?”
“There was a trooper up at Hereford who was a five-star chef,” Butcher said. Gabriel couldn’t tell if he was being serious or joking. “And there was a little old woman who knew absolutely everything about plants and kept massive greenhouses. Every six months, a dozen lads from Hereford would gather around this tiny old lady and learn what they could safely eat in the wild. She never had any problems with vandals either. I wonder why.”
Gabriel opened his mouth, and then looked up as the butler entered the room. “Pardon me, sir,” he said, “but the Brigadier has returned from his trip. He is waiting for you in the library.”
“Good,” Gabriel said, standing up. Butcher moved ahead of him, watching for assassins lurking in the corridor. Gabriel had tried to talk his close-protection detail out of being so paranoid, but Butcher had pointed out that the aliens had human collaborators who might be more adroit at tracking him down. Haddon Hall’s small staff had just had to get used to the three men watching their every move. They were all security-cleared, positively vetted, yet none of them had expected to be suddenly living in an occupied country. Gabriel hadn’t expected it either.
Lightbridge-Stewart stood up when Gabriel entered the library. “We got the consignment underway,” he said. The alien was on his way back to his people, then. “I wanted to discuss a possible operation with you, while I was here. My staff have been putting together a plan we’ve entitled Operation Hammer.”
Gabriel frowned as he took his seat. The Americans loved bold and purposeful operational names — Operation Enduring Freedom, Operation Iraqi Freedom — but the Ministry of Defence preferred to assign names at random, on the grounds that anyone who heard the name wouldn’t automatically know what it meant. Using a purposeful name was unusual and it suggested that someone intended for it to become public sooner rather than later.
“The core problem, Prime Minister, is that we cannot prevent them from moving wherever they please — and, if necessary, bombarding us into submission,” Lightbridge-Stewart said. Gabriel nodded, concealing his impatience. “They have the ability to hit us wherever they want, put bluntly, and it cripples our ability to mount a sustained insurgency. We need to show them that we are not going to roll over for them and surrender.”
“Particularly after we returned their captive,” Gabriel agreed. “How do you intend to hammer the message into their heads.”
“We can cripple their command and control network,” Lightbridge-Stewart said. “Maybe not for very long, but we can bring it down long enough to mount a series of attacks on their bases — and the collaborator government in London. At the very least, we would force them to fall back and rebuild their collaborator force from scratch. We might even give them enough of a bloody nose that they pull out of Britain altogether.”
“I doubt they will feel inclined to surrender,” Gabriel said, dryly. “It’s much more likely that they’ll take a step back and hammer us from space.”
“It’s possible,” Lightbridge-Stewart agreed. “The problem, however, is simple; do we take advantage of the one chance we are likely to get to hurt them, and smash their collaborator government, or do we surrender the initiative to them? We know they’ve been working on building networks for controlling our civilians and putting them to work on alien projects. How long is it going to be before the last resistance fighters are pushed to the Highlands, or the North Yorkshire Moors, or…”