by Chris Yeoh
Every bomb ten lives, no doubt.
Ten lives more fortunate than us to have at least found a definite conclusion to their sorrow, yet I cannot say, sitting with Phillipa that evening, that I envied them in the slightest.
Wrapped in a single blanket, we were gazing out over the bay, and were fortunate enough to see many illuminations from our vantage point alone. The stars twinkled down upon us and were reflected brilliantly by the gushing sea as it rushed to attack the sand.
We didn't need to go anywhere. Or need to do anything. Nothing was expected of us. Eventually, we strolled back down from our vantage point and got in the car. We lit fireworks that we had found in a party shop, and they whizzed and popped in the air above the cliff, an explosive reply – our own lights show.
We drove on.
Where?
It doesn't really matter.
Neven Eustus Plumsworthy
Chapter 21
Radio Interlude III
“From the British Broadcasting Services' auxiliary broadcasting station number 3, this is Doctor Frederick Copenhagen, bidding you a warm welcome to this very special live broadcast. If you are listening, please disregard any and all messages prior to this. I am very pleased to be providing you with the newest information at this very hour.
“Just this instant another message has arrived from the high command of our armed forces, and they have bid me broadcast it.
“And it is my duty to do so, citizens, as it is theirs to fight for our very freedom. So it is all of ours to let the feelings of brotherhood and compassion be awash among you, and to let our indomitable spirit reign from up on high.
“But so, to the message. And you will forgive me, dear listeners, for the past several days I have been less than myself. And though the war has raged on, lighter and better days are ahead of us, of this I am sure.
“As I have previous alluded, please disregard any or all information thus far, and keep your spirits up. Ahem, to the message.”
Another man's disembodied voice, grand and booming, took over the airwaves.
“This is a message from the office of Field Marshall Jack McIntyre, commander of the British Armed Forces – we wish not to sugar-coat the subject nor the contents at hand, but are proud to present it full-faced, with the hope that there is enough honey slathered upon this harsh medicine that it may go down all the easier.
“Brave men and women, the fighting force of the British army, the hand that holds the hammer of justice, have this day scored quite a victory upon the intergalactic invaders and have sent them scurrying away with their various tails between their numerous legs. Having lost hold of London and the surrounding regions some weeks ago – (and, yes, it is a shock) – with casualties of civilians and soldiers too numerous to count, we determined ourselves in a state of total war, with full consequences to be laid at the feet of our foe.
“With the quick aid of our numerous colonies, and under the command of some of the most unbeatable tacticians in the world, our newly formed First Expeditionary Force, one hundred thousand men in all, have collapsed the enemy’s stronghold upon our fair capital, and driven them shrieking from our planet upon the very rocks they sought to destroy us with.
“The road ahead is hard, rebuilding a fallen society is not easy, and we have borne many harsh losses far beyond the expectations of any who dared to imagine.
“But it is also a dawning of a new day, and with the cessation of violence some will ask, 'What did we achieve?'. To that, we answer – proof that our invincible spirit can be tested to its brink and then some, and will conquers all regardless. Proof that we can lose a great deal: farmers their fields, families their sons, people their homes, and many their livelihoods, and come out all the stronger for it. That we can as a world look upon what has happened with wisdom in the future.
“But our proof does not end here, it does not end in the nation’s graveyards or in the rubble of London, it ends hundreds of years down the line, when we stand at the graves of our countrymen with our heads held high to the heavens and tell all the angels who dare listen that we did not let this war change a single one of us, that we did not let circumstances beyond our control let us give in our order to chaos.
“For if we had, our sacrifices would be null and void.
“A blessed good evening to you, and to all subjects of the British Empire listening around the world. May the Lord bless and keep you. I remain, Field Marshall Jack McIntyre.”
The message ended. Frederick Copenhagen switched off the microphone, the dull red light behind his head slowly dimmed and turned off, and he was alone in darkness.