Outside Context Problem: Book 03 - The Slightest Hope of Victory

by Christopher Nuttall

  A human military force might have been limited by terrain – the President still remembered the battles to capture bridges in Iraq before the defenders could knock them down – but the aliens didn't have that particular weakness. Every time the British lost a bridge, it made it harder for them to move their forces around their country ... while the aliens just flew over the obstacles and landed wherever they pleased. If the British hadn't taught them respect for the makeshift plasma weapons they’d assembled, they might well have overrun all of Scotland by now. Their speed was terrifying.

  But they’re being more careful too, he thought, grimly. When they landed in the US, they ignored National Guard units or militia that became the core of the resistance. Here, they’re trying to sweep up as much organised opposition as possible.

  He remembered his brief conversation with the Prime Minister, only an hour ago. Alien forces had surrounded Aberdeen and were driving hard towards Dundee, trying to overrun the RAF bases on the other side of the River Tay. So far, they weren't trying to secure any big cities – they lost many of their advantages in urban combat, just like a human force – but they’d sealed off the cities they had overrun, trapping hundreds of thousands of civilians as well as a handful of military units. And there was a vague report from Aberdeen that indicated either treachery or another undetectable Walking Dead. How many others might have been caught, implanted and released to spread havoc?

  The President scowled at the thought. Unsurprisingly, the aliens had scattered the forces that had opposed their early landings, forcing the British troops to make their own way back to the lines forming further south. But some of those escapees could have been implanted ... and there was no way to tell, short of x-raying them all before putting them back on the front lines. Paranoia was making it hard to trust anyone, which made the alien task easier. And there was no way to be confident that x-rays would pick up everything.

  Time was running out for Britain, the President knew. One of the giant alien ships was inching further south, daring the RAF to stop it, all the while providing logistic support to the alien forces on the ground. Sooner or later, the aliens would advance southwards, as soon as they felt the RAF was crippled. And then Britain would fall. If Operation Hammer wasn't launched by then, ultimate victory might become nothing more than a dream.

  He looked over at Ambassador Hill. “Did you manage to speak to the Moscow Embassy?”

  Ambassador Hill scowled. Technically, he’d been interned in Britain, along with the remainder of American personnel in the country. He hadn't taken it well, even though the President had ordered him to cooperate. It hadn't been easy going from representing the most powerful country in the world to a state of powerlessness, no matter what orders he’d been given. On the other hand, right now he was effectively the Secretary of State. The President had promised him the post formally if he still wanted it after the war was over.

  “The Russians drove a hard bargain,” Hill admitted. “They want access to everything the British drew from the alien craft – and several of the crashed ships for themselves. And they want a promise of economic and political support in the future.”

  The President scowled. “What sort of economic and political support?”

  “They didn't specify,” Hill said, “but I think we will have to formally recognise that they have regained their sphere of influence – if not control – in Eastern Europe. They may also want to operate in Central Asia, although right now their presence there might be an improvement.”

  “True,” the President agreed. “Besides, Central Asia isn't a priority right now.”

  The Western-backed government of Afghanistan hadn't lasted longer than a month after the NATO troops had departed the country. Kabul had fallen relatively quickly, followed by a prolonged series of civil wars that had yet to end. It had sent ripples of chaos running over the whole region, made worse by the nuclear war that had destroyed Pakistan. If the Russians wanted to try to impose order, the President considered, they were welcome to it. Besides, they would be brushing up against the aliens in Iran. It might be useful, in the long term, for the Russians to have to watch the aliens.

  “We’re in a terrible position to bargain,” Hill added. “I think the Russians know that, Mr. President, or they wouldn't have hit us so hard.”

  The President snorted, rudely. A quarter of the world was held by an alien force, half of the remainder was in chaos ... and the Russians were bargaining. Not, he supposed, that he could blame them too much. Given a few years to recover from occupation and integrate the alien technology and the United States would be in an excellent position for future development, particularly if the country was closely allied with the alien rebels. Britain too would be in a good position – and Russia, already struggling under problems that had existed before the alien war had begun, would be left behind. He couldn't blame them for trying to leverage their temporary advantage into something that would last for decades.

  “Right,” he said. “What exactly are they offering?”

  “Almost all of their missile submarines,” Hill said. “They were reluctant to make any offers concerning their ground-launched missiles; I think that they are hoping to escape blame if the entire operation goes to hell. And besides, they’d want some additional weapons held in reserve to bolster their position in the future.”

  The President nodded. Putting together the nuclear strike force had been the hardest piece of diplomacy in his life. It had taken nearly a week of negotiation to get a firm commitment from the current French Government – and he was ruefully aware that the government might be replaced at any moment by another government, one that might be less inclined to be helpful. But then, the French had received a great deal of assistance from Britain over the last few weeks. Two French ballistic missile submarines would be assisting the combined force.

  And then there were the British submarines, and the American submarines ... and he still couldn't help thinking wistfully of the Chinese and Indian submarines. But no one knew what had happened to the former and the latter had launched their missiles at Pakistan. There was no way they could join the combined human force. Even so, there was enough nuclear firepower to destroy most of the world ... and yet it might not be enough. The aliens would start shooting the missiles down as soon as they were launched.

  “Then tell them that we agree to their terms,” he said. “Operation Hammer will be launched in two days. By then, they have to be ready.”

  There would be people who would see the decision to accede to Russia’s terms as a betrayal of America’s allies in Eastern Europe, he knew. Poland and the Baltic States had been pressured by Russia ever since the alien war had begun. The only thing keeping the Russians from launching an invasion, the British speculated, was fear that the aliens would take advantage of their operation to catch them on the hop. Now, Russia would have a chance to claim hegemony over the region.

  But there was nothing he could do to stop it. The once-mighty American military was shattered and broken, while Germany and France were dealing with civil unrest. All he could do was take advantage of the Russian desire for formal recognition and hope that there was an opportunity to reverse it later.

  Hill nodded. “They insist on sending out the targeting data themselves,” he said. “Once it’s worked out, they’ll have to handle it themselves.”

  “Bastards,” the President muttered. “Anyone would think that they didn't trust us.”

  But it did make sense, he knew. The nightmare of a ballistic missile submarine receiving faked orders to fire on an unsuspecting target had kept countless Admirals awake at night. There was a whole series of precautions for verifying that the orders were genuine before the missiles were actually fired, precautions that were tested and modified regularly. If the Russian skippers believed that their orders weren't from Moscow, they might well sit on their butts and refuse to fire their missiles.

  As if we didn't have enough to worry about with our own boats, he thought, col
dly. The American launch verification system had been shot to hell by the aliens. It was quite possible that several American skippers would refuse their orders too. They had linked into the British system, but no one fully trusted another country to handle their submarines. But there was no way to know who would fire and who wouldn't until the orders were issued.

  He cleared his throat. “And the other stages in the operation?”

  Lieutenant Grove hesitated. She was a NSA official assigned to a NSA-operated listening post in the UK, not someone who would often find herself briefing the President. But the regular channels were a joke these days, or under alien control. She was the best they had right now.

  “We’ve confirmed that several regiments of Order Policemen have been landed in the UK from the States,” she said. “That matches what we were sent out of Washington. They’ve already been making themselves unpopular with the locals.”

  “I’m not surprised,” the President said. “They’re good at making themselves unpopular.”

  The aliens had definitely learned how to take advantage of human disunity. Whatever qualms the Order Policemen had about keeping their fellow Americans under control – and he was sure that some of them had thought better of it almost as soon as they had signed up – they wouldn't have them about the British. No doubt the aliens would recruit British Order Policemen soon enough and send them to serve in America.

  But it also meant, he hoped, that their reserves in the United States were growing thin ...

  Unless they’ve rounded up more Arabs to help bolster their forces, he thought, sourly. Or perhaps Iranians or even Pakistani refugees. This could still go to hell.

  “Then let us pray that everything will go well,” he said. He wished he could be back in America for the operation, but Pepper would never have allowed it. “And hope that the aliens take the bait.”

  ***

  “That’s the next part of the operation ready,” Ben Santini said. “Half of the infiltrator cells have been activated and primed for their role when the balloon goes up.”

  Alex nodded, feeling his head pounding. Coordinating a military operation wasn't something he’d ever trained to do, yet Area 52’s staff had been serving as the linchpin of combined operations before the aliens had overrun the base. At least there were more experienced officers working to turn the plans into reality, thankfully. Alex knew he couldn't have handled the whole operation on his own.

  But then, not everyone is keen on the idea of cooperating, he thought, bitterly. It had taken days of arguing, in some cases, to convince local resistance leaders to cooperate with the government. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d been able to give them the full story, but they didn't dare take the risk. God alone knew who might be an unwitting alien spy.

  “Good,” he said, finally. What was it that Oldham said? “We want absolute chaos when we send the signal. They have to really feel the pressure.”

  Santini nodded, gazing down at the map on the table. The main alien cities were untouchable – they were simply too heavily guarded after the raid on the breeding centre – but there was no shortage of garrisons, both alien and collaborator. When the signal was sent, almost all of those garrisons would be attacked. The aliens would have to defend everywhere at once,

  And we’re committing everything we have to the offensive, Alex thought. There might have been no shortage of small arms, but the resistance was running short of heavier weapons, including the antiaircraft weapons needed to take down the alien craft. If the operation failed, it might prove impossible to build up stockpiles again before the aliens started breeding their replacement humans in earnest. The war might well be won or lost in two days.

  It wasn't just weapons either, he knew. The resistance had pulled together thousands of experienced fighting men, men with experience in actual war. If the operation failed, many of those men would die, making it impossible to pass their experience on to the next generation of resistance fighters. Assuming that there was a next generation, of course. The alien rebels had warned – and the doctors had confirmed – that the alien DNA would be dominant in any children the alien hybrids sired. Alex had some difficulty in imagining women being willing to lie with the hybrids, but they might not be given a choice.

  Besides, he thought, there are plenty of men and women who make a habit of sleeping with the wrong person.

  And then there were the infiltrators, the people who had volunteered to join the Order Police and the other collaborators, despite the very real risk of being shot by their own side. If they revealed themselves, the aliens would be unlikely to trust any uncontrolled human again, no matter what they did to prove themselves. Humanity would sacrifice yet another advantage if the operation failed ...

  ... But the alternative was a long slow slide into slavery and extinction.

  “I’ll send out the next batch of orders,” Santini said. “And then I will see if the Texas National Guard has any use for me.”

  Alex scowled. He understood how Santini felt; they might have left Area 52, but they were still effectively prisoners. But they knew too much to be allowed to roam free, where the aliens might capture them and discover just how much the human race had concealed from them. There was no way that either he or Santini could take part in the coming operation, unless it was blown completely. And if that happened, they might as well die bravely. There would be nothing else they could do.

  “Concentrate on alerting the resistance cells,” he said, gruffly. He envied the people on the outside, even though they were about to put their lives at risk yet again. “Did we hear anything from Canada?”

  “They’re sending more MANPADs, but it’s the last we’ll get for a while,” Santini said. “If the aliens figure out where the weapons are coming from ...”

  “I would be surprised if they hadn’t already figured it out,” Alex admitted. It wasn't as if they were firing Russian-designed weapons at the alien craft. Canada was a NATO country, licensed to produce the Stinger and countless other weapons systems. “But Canada might not be very important to them.”

  He had a feeling that would change, once the aliens had overwhelmed Britain and dealt with the French nukes. They had to know that the insurgency would keep going as long as there was a secure source of weapons and ammunition – and most of the insurgency’s heavy weapons came from Canada. Nor would Canada be able to put up much of a fight; they hadn't been able to duplicate the Dalek weapon systems for themselves. A few quick passes and the Canadian Air Force would be rapidly destroyed, allowing the aliens to push north from America. Or, perhaps, they would just settle for destroying infrastructure and watching most of the population freeze.

  “It doesn't look very important compared to the nuclear-armed countries,” Santini agreed. “But there aren't very many of them left, are there?”

  Alex nodded. After Operation Hammer was launched, humanity would have expended a large percentage of the remaining nuclear weapons – and the aliens would know it. God alone knew what would happen then. Perhaps the aliens would just move in and overrun Russia as well as Europe and America, before the nuclear weapons could be rebuilt. Or perhaps they would just be patient and wait for their genetic modifications to take root.

  “All we can do is wait,” he muttered, looking down at the map. “Wait and see what happens when the shit hits the fan.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Washington DC, USA

  Day 252

  “That,” Dave said, as Karen straightened up, “was weird.”

  “Yeah,” Karen agreed, sardonically. There was something ... oddly wrong in her voice. “I thought that older men lasted longer.”

  Dave would have flushed, if whatever the aliens had done to his face would allow it. He hadn't meant to let himself go, but when Karen had walked into his office wearing a skirt so short he could practically see the undersides of her ass he had simply lost control. A few quick kisses and then he’d bent her over his desk and taken her from behind, biting his lip to
keep from crying out as he fucked her as hard as he could. It hadn't been more than a few minutes before he’d come inside her ...

  “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling oddly conflicted. He’d felt it, all right, and yet his mind had seemed to split in two. One part that had lost itself in pleasure ... and one part that had watched, coldly and analytically, as he’d taken her. “I ...”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Karen said, tightly. She still sounded odd, as if she was in two minds herself. “I need to use your shower.”

  It couldn’t have been very good for her, Dave realised, cursing himself for acting like a teenager with more hormones than common sense. He should have engaged in foreplay to help her get ready for him, but the wash of lust had been so strong that he hadn't been able to help himself. And he wasn't even sure if she had wanted it. She hadn't tried to resist, but had she decided that there was no point in trying? Was he a rapist?

  He clenched his fists, feeling his hatred of the aliens growing ever stronger. They’d turned him into their puppet, used him as a traitor against his own country ... and whatever had been done to free him from their control had left him a hormone-ridden teenager with the body of an adult. Had it also turned him into a rapist? He shuddered as he heard the sound of running water from the washroom. Karen would be washing away the evidence of what he’d done to her.

  If he’d been in a genuine relationship, he would have joined her in the shower ... but he didn't dare. God alone knew how she felt about him now. Instead, he buttoned up his uniform trousers and looked down at the final set of operational instructions for the Order Police. As anticipated, the aliens had withdrawn a surprising number of their collaborators from the Green Zone, sending them to Britain to join the invasion force. They must be running low on warriors, he told himself. There could be no other explanation.