The Slightest Hope of Victory
(Outside Context Problem: Book III)
Series Listing
Book One: Outside Context Problem
Book Two: Under Foot
Book Three: The Slightest Hope of Victory
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Cover Blurb
The aliens have landed ... and Earth will never be the same. A third of the world is occupied, groaning under the weight of alien oppression, while the remainder is in chaos or preparing desperately for the final battle. As the aliens unveil their long-term plans for humanity, a horror unmatched by any purely human foe, it becomes clear that the end will not be long delayed. Humanity’s darkest hour is at hand.
But humanity will never give up, not as long as there remains a slightest hope of victory. From the heartland of America to the skies over Britain, from the deepest depths of the ocean to the cold darkness of space, the battle to decide the future of two races is yet undecided ...
And the Battle for Earth has yet to be won.
Dear Readers
The Slightest Hope of Victory is Book III in the Outside Context Problem series, following Outside Context Problem and Under Foot. It will probably not be entirely comprehensible to anyone who hasn't read the first two; I did try to write a recap, but it ended up being over six pages long – too long, in my opinion. You can draw free samples of both books from my site and download them from Amazon Kindle.
As you may notice, there was a long delay between Under Foot and this volume. I hope that it matches up well with its two predecessors.
A number of people were kind enough to read the draft chapters and suggest changes, alterations and improvements. Accordingly, this book is dedicated to them, without whom it would not have been so readable.
There has also been one major change. When I wrote Outside Context Problem and Under Foot, I used ‘Edward Stalker’ as a character name. However, I also used the same name in The Empire’s Corps and its sequels, causing some confusion. I have therefore renamed the character ‘Edward Tanaka.’
As always, I would be very grateful for reviews, critical comments, error-spotting, etc.
Have fun!
Christopher G. Nuttall
Prologue
Alien Command Ship #2
Day 83 (One Day after Second Washington)
Space. The final frontier.
Captain Philip Carlson had lived by those words from a very early age. It had become his dream to travel into space, a dream he had achieved when he had won one of the handful of coveted astronaut slots for himself. The dream had even kept him going when NASA turned further and further away from actual space exploration, cutting missions and cancelling next-generation programs that should have put the United States in space permanently. But instead of reaching for the stars, mankind had decided to stay on Earth.
The universe hadn’t left them alone.
Philip stared down at the blue-green orb of Earth and knew despair. He and the rest of his crew were prisoners on an alien spacecraft larger than many cities, a construction so vast as to be utterly beyond the combined efforts of every human space organisation on Earth. Not that any human space agency deserved the title, really, compared to what the aliens had built. Philip had a suspicion that the aliens, far from respecting humanity’s achievements, were actually laughing at them. The space shuttle, compared to the monstrous alien ship, was nothing more than a toy.
And now Earth was occupied. From his vantage point, he could see an endless stream of alien craft – each one far more capable than anything humans had built – heading to and from the planet, carrying alien colonists to their new homeworld. Humanity’s resistance had been brushed aside, almost casually, once the mothership had arrived in orbit. The aliens weren’t gods, but they were powerful. Humanity had inflicted just enough damage to convince them that they had a chance, before the hammer was finally lowered. Earth no longer belonged to the human race.
He scowled at the thought. The aliens having taken his crew prisoner, hadn't seemed to have any real idea what to do with them – or perhaps they simply didn’t care. There were no anal probes, no interrogation to discover what they knew about Earth’s defences ... they hadn't even been locked up! They’d practically been allowed to wander the ship freely, apart from certain sealed areas. Philip had explored, along with the rest of his crew, but they’d found nothing that they could use against the aliens. He would have sold his soul for a nuke.
But even that wouldn't have done more than slow the aliens down. The massive city-sized ship that held them was one of four, while there was still the mothership itself and the hundreds of smaller craft. Losing one large craft would have to hurt – they weren't that powerful that they could afford to lose one without wincing – but it wouldn't stop them. They’d just keep going ... and his crew would have thrown away their lives for nothing.
He gritted his teeth as he stared out into space. Under other circumstances, the observatory – or so he had dubbed it – would have been an endless source of wonder. It was far larger than anything the ISS had possessed, allowing him to stare into space and down towards the planet below. In the distance, he could even see the moon, where NASA had landed a handful of men before it had given up on the space dream. The aliens had crossed at least ten light years to reach Earth. No wonder they weren't impressed by anything they saw from humanity.
There was a faint rustling sound behind him and he spun around to see one of the taller aliens standing behind him. Philip sucked in his breath sharply as he met the dark alien eyes, so dark that there were no pupils or anything else remotely human. They knew little about how the aliens were organised, but their observations suggested that the taller ones were the ones in charge. The others certainly seemed to defer to them.
The alien stood taller than the average human, with an inhumanly thin body and oversized head. It was easy, now, to see the resemblance between the alien abduction reports and real aliens. Philip had no doubt that humanity had been watched for a long time before the aliens had decided to make their presence known. He wanted to lash out, to snap the thin alien neck, but he knew that it would do no good. Alien Warriors would come for the human prisoners and that would be the end. If all he could do was watch and wait for an opportunity to strike the aliens, he’d wait. Flying for NASA taught one patience, if little else.
The alien voice was thin, almost completely atonal. “There have been developments,” he said. Or at least Philip thought of the alien as male. It was impossible to tell gender with any certainty. “Your people destroyed a Command Ship over Washington, your nation’s capital. We did not believe that you were capable of such a feat.”
Philip said nothing. The reports they’d intercepted from the ISS had been clear. The USAF had taken a terrible pounding in the war and had been on the verge of coming apart under the strain. The aliens had launched wave after wave of attacks, systematically degrading America’s ability to defend itself against further attacks before the mothership arrived in orbit. Philip had no way of knowing what had happened since the command ship had scooped up and abducted the entire ISS, along with the wreckage of Atlantis – but with thousands upon thousands of aliens heading to their new home, he doubted that it was anything good. The aliens claimed that they’d brought a billion of their people along on their colonisation mission. If that were true, they had enough manpower to subdue the entire planet.
It wasn't a pleasant thought. There wasn't much alien invasion literature that dealt with a world the aliens had successfully occupied, but what little there was didn’t make pleasant reading. There would be mass starvation, the collapse of human society and disease and deprivation would be rife, while the aliens built their cities and slowly crushed all resistance out of the human race. Human history would come to an abrupt halt. It would truly be the end of days.
“It opens up new opportunities,” the alien said. He turned to look down towards the planet, his dark eyes inscrutable. “We may be able to work together.”
Philip’s flash of anger overrode common sense. If someone down on the planet had managed to destroy an alien craft the size of a city, it was clear that the fight was far from hopeless. Perhaps the human race would wear down the aliens with constant insurgent attacks. He’d heard rumours about preparations before the ISS had been abducted.
“Why?” He demanded. “So we can roll over and surrender our planet to you?”
“No,” the alien replied. “There is more at stake here than you understand. If we work together, we can save both of our races from mutual destruction.”
Chapter One
Over Virginia, USA
Day 190
“Are you sure this thing is safe?”
Nicolas Little grinned as he checked the parachute harness. For some reason of their own, the aliens – the People, they called themselves – had collected a vast amount of human military equipment. Given their technological superiority, it still puzzled him that they’d even bothered, but it had worked out in his favour. Locating a SF-capable parachute, even a two-man parachute, had been easy.
“Very safe,” he said. “Reasonably safe. Well, sort-of safe, well ...”
“Very funny,” Abigail Walker said. The auburn-haired reporter gave him a cross look. “And what happens if we hit the ground?”
Nicolas snorted. “That is kind of the point,” he pointed out.
Abigail scowled at him. “What happens if the parachute doesn’t work and we fall until we hit the ground at speed?”
“We die,” Nicolas said, simply. He finished checking the harness and grinned at her. “But don’t worry. I’ve done hundreds of jumps and as long as you’re careful, nothing can actually go wrong.”
He scowled, for he knew that this was no normal jump. The alien network that controlled their military machine was difficult, almost impossible, to fool. He knew that the alien rebels were risking exposure by having two prisoners escape from a transport craft, even though there was no other choice. They could hardly call up what remained of the American government on the telephone, or any other more conventional way of making contact. He’d thought that the federal government was bad when it came to intruding into its population’s lives. The aliens had every waking moment supervised by their computer network. Getting around it as much as the rebels did was very difficult.
“As long as you’re sure,” Abigail said. “I just …”
“I understand,” Nicolas said. He’d been nervous before his first parachute jump too. “Just relax and let me do all the work. You don’t have to do anything.”
Abigail winced, then giggled. “I’ve heard that before,” she said. “I don’t suppose that there is something I can take for nerves?”
Nicolas shook his head. “Not here,” he said. “Just close your eyes if you’re too nervous, once we’re out of the hatch.”
There was a faint tap on the door. “Are you decent in there?”
“Yeah,” Nicolas called back. “We’re done now.”
Abigail elbowed him in the ribs as the alien doorway flowed open, revealing Captain Philip Carlson. The former Space Shuttle commander looked grim, but smiled tiredly when he’d saw the other two. Nicolas couldn't help feeling a twinge of admiration, even if it was rare for any SEAL to feel it for anyone outside the Special Forces. Carlson had not only survived captivity by the aliens, but linked up with rebels within the alien ranks. Maybe there truly was a chance at victory.
“They saw that we will be in position in ten minutes,” Carlson said. “Are you ready?”
Nicolas took one final look at the harness, then pulled it over his head. “Just about,” he said, as he fixed the straps. “I just have to tie Abigail to myself, then you can shove us out the hatch.”
Carlson smiled, tiredly. Nicolas recognised the signs of a man who had pushed himself too hard and now found it hard to care about dangers like exposure and sudden death, even though literally everything was at stake. If the Rogue Leaders completed their plans, resistance to the alien leadership would not only become futile, but inconceivable. The freedom of two races hung in the balance, not one.
“Just don’t go seeking revenge until after the war is over,” Carlson said, as Nicolas checked Abigail’s suit. High-attitude/high-opening jumps carried their own risks, including goggles shattering from the cold and eyes freezing shut. The equipment they’d donned should provide them some protection, but Nicolas knew better than to take it completely for granted. “We have to win first.”
Nicolas scowled. It was clear to him that Greg, his ex-wife’s second husband, had betrayed him to the alien occupiers. He’d trusted Greg to take care of his daughter and yet the man had betrayed Nicolas the first chance he’d had. It staggered Nicolas to think that he might have left his daughter with an unworthy man ... or had Greg simply feared what would happen to her when – if – Nicolas was caught. The alien database included samples of DNA from almost everyone in the United States, outside the resistance. If they’d taken his DNA, they would know about his relationship to Nancy – and Greg.
“I know,” he assured him. “Personal revenge can be put off, if necessary.”
He tightened a couple of Abigail’s straps and smiled at her pale face. Nicolas had never been fond of reporters – they had no common sense, particularly when it came to reporting on military matters – but he’d come to like Abigail. She had a wicked sense of humour and, in her own way, had done a great deal of damage to the alien cause. And she was one of the few people who even knew that there was a faction of alien rebels.
“Don’t worry,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you.”
They followed Carlson into the next compartment, which was partly transparent, allowing them to look down on the globe as the craft completed its pre-planned course towards the alien mothership. America was just coming into view, a darkened continent. Nicolas shuddered as he recalled just how brightly lit the country had been, before the aliens arrived to take over the world. Now, there was scarcely a light to be seen. Even the great cities were dark.
They keep turning out the power to remind us that we’re at their mercy, he thought, sourly. Chicago taught them that they could do that.
Carlson turned to look at them, his face tight. “You have everything you need?”
“Yes,” Nicolas said, simply. He pulled Abigail towards him, clicked her harness into his, and then waddled towards the hatch. “We’re ready.”
He shivered as he saw one of the alien workers appear out of nowhere, one hand holding a small object no larger than an Iphone. The workers were far less unpleasant than the warriors, but there was something about them that chilled him to the bone. Knowing that they’d literally been bred for obedience, even before the Rogue Leaders started genetically-modifying their own people, Nicolas suspected he knew why he hated even the sight of the little creatures. The Rogue Leaders had a similar fate in mind for all of humanity.
“Twenty seconds,” the alien said. As always, the voice was flat, completely atonal. “Stand on the glowing square on the floor.”
Deck, part of Nicolas's mind whispered.
“Good luck,” Carlson said.
There was a sudden shift in ... something and they plummeted into the night. Abigail jerked against him once as the cold struck her, seeping into her very pores, then she seemed to freeze. Nicolas guessed that her eyes were tightly closed. The sight of the ground coming up to meet them,
even if it seemed agonisingly slow, was not for the faint-hearted. There were hardened soldiers who went pale at the mere thought of having to jump out of the aircraft and fall towards the ground.
The chute jerked as it automatically deployed the parachute, slowing their fall. Nicolas scowled, inwardly. He hadn't discussed it with Abigail – it would only upset her – but there was a very real possibility that the alien sensor network would pick up the parachute as it fell from the heavens. He’d actually considered dropping much further towards the planet before deploying the chute, then decided that it was unlikely to draw more attention. Besides, the alien rebels had been fairly sure that they could insert him and Abigail back onto Earth without drawing attention.
He looked upwards, watching the stars as they blazed out in the night sky. Here, so high above the Earth, there was little twinkling ... and some of the stars were moving. It took him a moment to realise that he was looking at the alien ships as they moved in orbit around the Earth, transporting alien colonists from the mothership to their new homes. There was nothing human in orbit any longer. The aliens had taken out the remainder of the satellite network once they’d realised that the human resistance was using it for their operations.
And then they gave us an improved communications system we don’t dare use, Nicolas thought, bitterly. The alien servers were faster than anything humans had managed to produce for themselves, but if they weren't rigged to allow every message that passed through them to be scrutinised, Nicolas would have been astonished. Few people truly understood that emails passed through a series of servers before they reached their destinations, let alone how easy it could be to intercept and copy the messages. Quite a few terrorists had been caught through not observing proper communications security.
He watched as the American continent took on shape and form. They’d planned to drop him over Virginia, but given the problems with arranging the right flight path he’d known that it was quite possible that he would miss the planned landing site by miles. There was a time when that would have humiliated him – shared jumps were meant to ensure that all of the SEALs arrived in the right place – but now it no longer seemed to matter. All that mattered was landing, making contact with the resistance and then linking into the underground network. And that wasn't going to be easy.
Outside Context Problem: Book 03 - The Slightest Hope of Victory Page 1