“I managed to get a radio link to the London Base,” one of the techs reported. They’d been working on the radios, the only system they could fall back on if the command network had gone down. “They’re under heavy attack. The humans are threatening the base itself.”
The’Stig cursed. It was bad enough having the humans gloating over how they’d pulled their people — the ones who were due to be executed — out of the detention camp, but if they managed to take out the central base in London it would give them a major propaganda victory. And if they’d learned better than to try to take prisoners, they’d wipe out the administrative staff — human and alien — who were trying to assimilate the humans into the State. The entire program would be set back weeks, if not months.
“I want us moving in five minutes,” he ordered, finally. There was no choice — they had to assume that they were the only ones available to relieve the London Base before it fell. The radio operators still hadn’t established contact with half of the nearby bases. The’Stig hoped that the bases had merely had problems establishing their own radio links, but he had to assume the worst. The humans might have taken the bases — and the troopers guarding them — out. It was a horrifying thought. “We need to head into London.”
There was a pause. “And get the helicopters up too,” he added. “We’re going to need air cover.”
Chris ran to the next piece of cover, heading towards the main entrance to the alien base. A number of aliens had taken up positions just inside, firing towards the humans as they came closer. Their shooting didn’t seem to be particularly accurate, but they were definitely forcing Chris and his men to move carefully. He fired twice and then ducked down as a burst of alien bullets nearly took his head off.
Two men ran closer, holding grenades. They pitched them into the alien building and then ducked for cover themselves as the grenades detonated. A number of aliens were caught and wounded by the blasts, but the others kept firing, determined to keep the humans from getting inside. Chris waved to the Javelin team as they reached a position where they could fire directly into the doors, ordering them to take their shot. The missile blasted into the base and exploded, smashing through their defences. A handful of grenades polished off the remaining aliens.
“They’re trying to snipe from the windows,” his radio buzzed. “Our snipers are sniping back.”
Chris nodded as he ran forward, into the wreckage of the alien front door. They’d been paranoid enough to set up firing positions inside, but the grenades had wrecked them. A single alien seemed to still be alive, yet he was so badly wounded that there was nothing anyone could do for them. Chris shot him and led the way forward, into the alien base. He’d crawled through Taliban hideouts before, seeing some of the horrors they unleashed upon their own people, but there was something oddly inhuman about the interior of the alien base. He laughed at himself a moment later. Of course there was something inhuman — it had been built by aliens who needed more space than their human counterparts. Their rooms and doors were far larger than anything a human would build.
There had been no way to get an accurate picture of the base’s interior layout, but he headed towards the centre on the assumption that the alien command staff would be in the safest place on the base. The aliens seemed to have vanished, leaving the soldiers glancing nervously from side to side, looking for the next threat. It came in a burst of alien gunfire as the Leathernecks sprang an ambush, taking down two soldiers before they were forced to retreat by Chris and his men. Chris unhooked a grenade from his belt, tossed it into the side room, and headed inside as soon as the grenade had exploded. One alien was dead; the other, somehow, was completely unharmed. His shot missed Chris by bare millimetres. Abdul put three bullets into the alien head, shattering his skull.
One by one, the remaining rooms on the lower level were swept. Some of the rooms were completely bare, with nothing to show what the aliens had done in them. Others were packed with alien equipment, sleeping cots and other gear that was vaguely recognisable. A handful of aliens tried to surrender, but there was no time to take prisoners. All they could do was gun them down. Chris knew that it would bother him later, yet there was no time to worry about it now. They had to keep moving.
“I think this is the way up,” one of the soldiers called. He’d kicked down a plastic door, revealing what looked like a bumpy ramp leading upwards. Chris had visions of disabled aliens trying to make their way up the stairs in wheelchairs before realising that the aliens probably found human stairs uncomfortable. There had certainly been some reports of aliens either becoming trapped or simply ignoring the upper floors, although no one had been quite sure why. “There’s a blockage at the far end.”
Chris smiled. It would have been an effective defence against the aliens, but humans were smaller and nimbler. Grenades cleared the way, allowing them to get up to the second floor and start pushing the aliens back. They didn’t seem to be particularly well coordinated, reminding him of the times that headquarters staff had found themselves in contact with the enemy in Afghanistan. They’d found themselves roughly handled by the Taliban. It stood to reason that the aliens had similar people in the rear. He wondered, absently, if they had their own word for REMFs.
He glanced down at his watch as alien bullets snarled overhead. There had been no way to calculate how long it would take before the aliens started sending in reinforcements from the bases outside London. One theory had claimed that the aliens would wait for orders before doing anything — orders which were never going to come. Chris suspected otherwise; some alien commanders were clearly more capable of acting on their own initiative than others. Assuming that they left their base as soon as the attack began… there were too many variables to calculate any likely ETA. They’d just have to assume the worst and push on as fast as they could.
They punched through a plastic wall and came into what looked like a control room, almost comparable to the stations Chris had guarded while on active duty. The aliens fought back savagely, but it was too late. Grenades shattered the room, leaving most of the aliens dead or wounded. The remainder seemed stunned, unable to resist effectively. And one of them was clearly in charge.
Oheghizh stared at the human, wondering what the humans would do to him. Did they even know his rank? Probably, he told himself. They’d certainly be able to read the gold buttons and know that he was important. But they’d never be permitted to take him prisoner. The Command Triad would simply repeat the threat of bombarding a human city if he wasn’t returned, alive.
Two human soldiers marched him back down the ramp and out towards the open air. There was a brief pause, then one of them produced a black bag and pushed it down over Oheghizh’s head. The command network was down, but the satellites would still be watching… and all they would see, he realised in horror, would be a black mass. They wouldn’t know he was a prisoner…
He wanted to fight, but it was far too late.
Chapter Forty
London
United Kingdom, Day 55
David Lamb watched the alien convoy making its way through London, led by its tanks. They were clearly out for blood, judging by their response to a handful of pot-shots as they’d entered the city. They’d responded with heavy machine gun fire and even HE shells from their armoured vehicles. But there were only a handful of ways to get into London and head to Buckingham Palace, at least if they wanted to get there directly. They pretty much had to come this way.