Chris chuckled. The aliens did seem to be curiously uninterested in some human activities, although there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their disinterest. They didn’t seem to be interested in what humans were wearing, or in sex, even though both of them were clues to another human that something might not be right. He picked up another piece of rubble and dropped it in the cart, shaking his head. The aliens had their weaknesses, just like humans. All they had to figure out how to do was use their weaknesses against them.
His lips twitched with sly amusement. If it was that easy, he knew, everyone would be doing it.
They’d definitely realised that having their troops keep a fixed routine was a dangerous mistake. The patrols through London seemed to be random, while the guards patrolling the fence surrounding their base were varying their routine. Chris suspected, from the way they were moving, that there were probably reinforcements inside the base, just as there had been at the Detention Camp. But apart from that…? The closest major alien base was outside the city. If they could pin down the forces defending the base itself, they could run riot before the aliens could respond…
“I think you’re going to be going out of the city tonight,” Bongo said. Fatima nodded, tiredly. Her skills had helped save lives, but she’d watched too many people die because she didn’t have the supplies or equipment to save them. “Once you get through the tunnels, you’ll probably be taken up north with some of the others.”
Fatima sighed. She’d never really been out of London, apart from a brief trip to Edinburgh. Her stepmother had wanted her to go to Pakistan, but Fatima had refused — she’d suspected that her stepmother had intended to marry her off. And now… where was her stepmother? The aliens had taken her away and… what? Had they killed her, or imprisoned her, or… she wasn’t anyone important, not really. Hardly the kind of person they’d want to interrogate thoroughly.
But she’d been related to the first suicide bomber. That alone made her a person of interest.
“I see,” she said, finally. “When do you want me to be ready?”
“Get your stuff ready when you have a moment,” Bongo said. “We’ll have to wait until dark anyway. They might spot us moving through the streets in daytime.”
Fatima grinned, realising that she was being teased. As far as she knew, the aliens still wanted her for the crime of being related to a young man foolish enough to blow himself up — along with hundreds of humans and a dozen aliens. The collaborator government kept making that point on the BBC, reminding everyone of the evils of suicide bombing. Fatima couldn’t really disagree, even though she’d disliked the young asshole. He’d thought that all women should be neither seen nor heard.
“Right,” she said. “Will you be coming with me?”
“Probably not,” Bongo said. “I have work to do here.”
Fatima nodded. “Good luck,” she said. “May God go with you.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
North England
United Kingdom, Day 51
“I think we have a problem.”
Gavin looked over at the operator. He was manning one of the computer stations monitoring alien activity in the region, using their own computer networks against them. It gave them a view of what the aliens were doing, although he had to keep reminding himself not to take it for granted. The aliens, if they ever worked out what the humans were doing, could get around it by simply disconnecting from the network.
“The aliens have dispatched a flight of aircraft coming right towards our position,” the operator said. “Their ETA is roughly ten minutes - perhaps less. I think we’ve been rumbled.”
The damned captive, Gavin thought, angrily. The decision to release the alien might have made sense, but there had been no time to conceal their tracks properly. All the aliens had had to do was look at their orbital observations and they might well be able to track the small team back to the holding cell. And the PM and several other officials were based nearby as well.
“Send the alert to the PM’s bodyguards and tell them to get his ass out of there,” he ordered, flatly. Seven minutes… not very long at all. There wouldn’t be any hope of completely dissembling the base and vanishing before the aliens arrived. “And then start the destruct sequence on our computers. I want nothing left that could lead the aliens to any other bases.”
“Aye, sir,” the operator said. There was a bleep from his console. “Sir, they’ve also started detailing land forces in our general direction. Should I send an update to the picketers?”
“Yes,” Gavin said. He’d scattered small teams in positions along the roads leading to the base, teams armed with antitank weapons. They could slow the aliens down, but there was no easy way to slow down the aircraft. Their stock of antiaircraft missiles had largely been earmarked for Operation Hammer. “Tell them to land one good punch and then bug out. I don’t want a stand-up battle if we can avoid it.”
He glanced down at the map. The aliens had used helicopter assaults before, often with just as much bravery and skill as their human counterparts. They presumably wanted to take the alien’s interrogation team prisoner, if possible — did they know that they were close to the PM, as well as Gavin himself? There was no way to know. No one outside the base knew what it hid, a security precaution that had seemed rather paranoid at the time.
“And then start making your way to the exit,” he added. “You know where to go if we get split up?”
“Yes, sir,” the operator said. He watched as Gavin checked the SA80 he carried slung over his shoulder. There’d used to be regulations against arming soldiers who weren’t on duty. Those regulations no longer existed, along with the MOD that had sometimes seemed more paranoid about its soldiers being armed than about security. “Good luck.”
Gabriel had been sleeping lightly when the door burst open. He jumped awake, one hand reaching for the pistol on the table. He’d never fired a weapon before the invasion began, but Butcher and his team had insisted that he learn and spent several days in the forest showing him how to load, fire and clean a Browning automatic. It felt oddly reassuring in his hand, even though he knew that he would never be a crack shot. The SAS men regularly shot birds out of the sky and made it look easy.
“Prime Minister,” Butcher said. “We just had a warning from the OP. The aliens are on their way, coming here. You need to get up, now.”
He pulled Gabriel out of bed and tossed him his dressing gown. “There isn’t any time to dress,” he said, as he scooped up the overnight bag they’d insisted that Gabriel pack when they’d first arrived. “They’ll be on our heads in five minutes.”
The thought made Gabriel shake off his drowsiness and follow Butcher down the stairs. A handful of staff were at the bottom, talking urgently among themselves in grim voices. Butcher ignored them and pulled Gabriel towards the rear of the building when he started to slow down, nodding to Hughie and Mother as they appeared in front of them. The two men were armed to the teeth, carrying what looked like enough rifles and grenades to fight a small war. Judging from the military’s statistics Gabriel had read back before the invasion, they barely had enough for a brief skirmish with the enemy.
Outside, the morning dew hung heavily in the air. He could hear the sound of birds awakening from their slumber, but nothing else, not even a hint that someone was heading towards them with bad intentions. Gabriel almost opened his mouth to ask if it was a drill, before hearing the first sounds of helicopters in the distance. These days, there were only a handful of human aircraft in the air, all operated by collaborators. The aliens were definitely on their way.