Darkest Hour 1: Their Darkest Hour

by Christopher Nuttall

  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.

  He smiled as he reached for the detonator. The aliens had killed millions of humans, without remorse; they probably didn't know that they’d killed Carol Lamb, wife of David, or their son Thomas. But David knew. He’d been wanting to fight ever since he’d discovered that his family had been caught up in the invasion and cut down in the crossfire. The resistance had trained him and given him a vital role in the counterattack. He had no intention of fucking up and failing to kill as many aliens as he could before they finally killed him. The alien tanks slowed as they spotted the plates they’d left on the road – they looked like mines, if someone was feeling paranoid – and started to move around them. David pushed down on the detonator and braced himself.

  The entire world seemed to explode. They’d placed explosive under the road, in two parked cars and in buildings facing the alien position. The blast was terrifyingly loud and the building he was using as a lookout point rocked alarmingly. To the aliens, caught up in the blast, it had to look like a foretaste of the hell awaiting them when they died. He couldn't hear anything through the ringing in his ears as he pulled himself up and staggered towards the fire escape, knowing that the aliens were likely to be ready to murder any human they encountered – assuming that some of the aliens had survived the blast. Someone had definitely survived. He saw a flash of tracer pouring up into the air, but there was no way of telling if humans or aliens had fired the shot.

  He saw something moving out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a pair of alien helicopters, moving rapidly towards the billowing cloud of smoke. They were shooting down towards the ground, aiming at resistance fighters – or maybe civilians who had been caught up in the battle. A missile rose up from the ground and slammed into one of the helicopters, sending it spinning over and down into the ground, where it vanished in a colossal explosion. The second helicopter climbed higher, all the while firing rockets down towards where the missile had come from. David took one final look, knowing that the aliens would never feel safe again in a human city, and then hurried down the stairs to safety. He’d been warned not to linger.

  ***

  The shock of the explosion was so powerful that it nearly destroyed the command vehicle, despite the heavy armour that should have protected it from harm. The’Stig cursed as the vehicle spun around on its hover-cushion, almost crashing into one of the other vehicles in the convoy. Judging from what little he’d seen, the blast had almost certainly taken out four tanks, the vehicles he’d placed at the front to deter any humans from ambushing his force. He’d put them out there to be slaughtered.

  There was no time to curse his own mistake. The humans were firing down at the convoy from all directions. Bullets were pinging off the command vehicle’s armour, while the troopers in the troop transports had to dismount to seek cover before their vehicles were ripped apart by the human assault. Hundreds of mortar shells seemed to be crashing around them, trapping them in a killing zone. The air cover he’d ordered should be able to deal with the mortars, if the humans hadn't brought antiaircraft missiles along to the ambush. They’d probably anticipated that he’d bring his helicopters with him.

  “Order the tanks to return fire indiscriminately,” he ordered. He’d set out to relieve London Base before it fell, but it looked as if he was going to have to cut his way out of the ambush first. The rear of the convoy was in chaos. One of the tanks had ploughed into a troop transport and ground to a halt. The surviving troopers had managed to dismount and start providing cover for the tanker as he tried to get his vehicle back into operation. “Tell them to clear the streets.
”

  The tanks swung their main guns around and started firing shells into the surrounding buildings. Mighty explosions sent human buildings toppling to the ground, hopefully trapping and killing human ambushers before they could escape. The’Stig had only a moment to register the fact that one of his helicopters had gone down before the second one came under heavy fire from a hidden machine gun and had to break off, trailing smoke as it limped back out of the city. The radio kept buzzing with scraps of isolated chatter, but all his attempts to raise the fighter jet bases outside the city failed. It didn't take much imagination to realise that the humans might have taken out the bases, or at least forced them to keep their jets under cover.

  “Start moving back,” he ordered the rear units, as the human fire started to slack off. There was no point in trying to push ahead, even though the hover-cushions could probably allow the tanks to get over the rubble. The humans might have anticipated that and set up a second ambush, firing straight into the tanks vulnerable undersides. “Move the troopers to cover the tanks as they head back.”

  He glanced down at the map. Without the command network, it was far harder to coordinate his operations, which gave the humans an advantage. There were other routes to London Base, but if they were also mined...they might walk right into a second trap. The humans had clearly set out to delay them and they’d succeeded admirably.

  But if he failed to get to London Base in time, the humans would inflict disastrous damage on the occupation force...

  ***

  “Ned, Eccles,” Chris’s radio snapped. “The pig is in the poke.”

  Chris nodded. The first alien attempt to relieve their base had been ambushed, but the aliens could presumably shoot their way out of the trap. They had enough firepower to break through, or fall back and try to get to London via a different route.

  “Start spraying,” he ordered. There hadn't really been time to pull any papers or documents out of the command base, but they’d certainly ensure that nothing was left for the aliens to recover. Each of the soldiers carried a flask containing an extremely flammable liquid. Sprayed over the aliens, it would ensure that very little was left – and conceal the fact that the resistance had taken a second high-ranking prisoner. “Everyone else, start falling back to the city.”

  He finished emptying his own flask, tossed a detonator into the centre of the alien command room, and then waved for Abdul to precede him back down the alien ramp and into the lower levels. The sound of firing in the distance was growing louder, although there was no sign of any alien aircraft. They’d based antiaircraft teams throughout the city on the assumption that anything flying would be hostile and they’d clearly forced the alien aircraft to keep their distance.

  “Not a bad day’s work,” Abdul said, as they made it outside. There were small fires burning throughout the remains of the alien base, with hundreds of dead alien bodies scattered around, waiting for the aliens to recover them. The human bodies had already been dragged away to where they would be buried. There would be time for a proper ceremony later. “I think we taught them a lesson.”

  Chris smiled, counting the men out as they left the remains of the alien building. Once everyone was confirmed as having left, he pushed down on the remote control, triggering the detonator he’d left behind in the alien control room. The flames would rapidly destroy the equipment and records as well as most of the DNA traces, making it almost impossible for the aliens to be certain of who’d been in the chamber when the fire started. They’d never know that they’d lost a high-ranking prisoner, not this time. And who knew what he could tell the human race?

  The main body of the base would survive – he doubted fire would melt the material they’d used to build it – but it would be a blackened shell. Humans all over the world would take new hope from the story, as they would from all the other stories. The global counteroffensive would have hurt the aliens badly. Maybe, just maybe, they’d hurt the aliens badly enough to convince them to retreat and leave Earth alone.

  He keyed his radio one final time, sending the signal to retreat, and then turned it off. It was time to make themselves scarce.

  “Impressive,” Abdul muttered.

  Chris followed his gaze. Great plumes of smoke were rising up over London, revealing where resistance fighters had mounted attacks on the police and the other collaborators, as well as a handful coming from alien bases outside the city. He'd only known snippets of the overall plan, but it was clear that they’d hammered the aliens hard. God alone knew how many Leathernecks had died in the last few hours.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s something they can take for granted. Humans don’t ever give up.”

  ***

  Battered bloody, the remains of The’Stig’s force finally broke through the human resistance and reached London Base. It was already too late. The base was a broken ruin, flames licking out through portholes that had been intended to allow the defenders to fire out at human opponents. There seemed to be no living thing left alive, not even the small collection of animals some of the command staff had kept as pets, despite edicts against it. Some humans – the Russians, in particular – were very good at using pets and other trained animals to take out tanks and other armoured vehicles.

  He dismounted from the command vehicle and stared at the devastation. The entire base would need to be torn down and rebuilt from scratch. He cursed the humans as he realised that they’d wiped out vast quantities of equipment, all of which would need to be replaced from the homeworld. With all the other demands on the homeworld’s resources, it was possible that they’d decide to slow Earth’s progress into becoming part of the State. The humans would have a chance to prepare themselves for the next round of fighting, and the next.

  The human collaborator government had been totally destroyed. Somehow, the humans had sneaked explosives and insurgents into the building – perhaps through using some collaborators who hadn't really decided to collaborate. They searched the remains of the human building as best as they could, but found that almost all of the senior collaborators were dead. It was clear that they’d been shot down by the insurgents in cold blood. The destruction of most of the records would make it much harder to be sure of who was still alive, or of who could be trusted. Personally, he wouldn't have trusted any human. They were a shifty treacherous race. Even their collaborators had been treacherous.

  There was no sign of any living human. They’d done the smart thing and made themselves scarce. The’Stig couldn't blame them, not really. His troopers were in a murderous mood, intent on taking it out on the first group of humans that they encountered. Their city almost felt deserted, even though he knew that it was an illusion. The gunfire he could hear in the distance proved that some humans had been left alive.

  “I managed to get a link to the Command Triad,” his aide called. “The command network has been crippled, but they’ve managed to clear some functions.”

  The’Stig nodded and made his slow way back to the command vehicle. The Command Triad would not be pleased. Someone was likely to take the fall for everything that had happened to the Conquest Force. He wondered, mordantly, if they’d try to blame him. It was possible, although almost unthinkable, that he was the senior surviving officer in Britain.

  But that couldn't be true, could it?

  ***

  “I think they’ve probably got their network back up now,” Abdul said, as they gathered in the estate after the battle. “They’ve certainly been coordinating the forces they’ve been moving around the city more effectively.”

  Chris nodded. The Leathernecks hadn’t been shy about re-establishing order, even though their collaborators had been killed or forced to flee. It would take them weeks to calm London down, weeks before they started rebuilding the collaborator government. Assuming, of course, that they could find anyone willing to become collaborator-in-chief. The last one had been gunned down by a policeman who was supposed to be loyal to the new government.

  The re
ports on the internet kept changing, but it certainly looked as if Operation Hammer had been a success. They’d hit the Leathernecks all over the world, despite problems with international communications; the Leathernecks had to be badly shocked by the experience. The PM and several other world leaders, hiding out, had already uploaded messages of congratulations to the fighting men. Some of the soldiers had been contemptuous of the PM remaining in hiding, but Chris had reminded them that the aliens wanted him dead – or alive, serving as a collaborator. They needed to keep the PM alive and free. Defeating the aliens was all that mattered. The Leathernecks wouldn't give up easily, but they had been hurt. They knew they’d been hit hard...