The Trafalgar Gambit

Chapter Three

“The situation is grim,” General Stewart said. His voice was almost emotionless, but there was a strong hint of Lancashire in how he spoke. “We are facing the greatest crisis in British history.”

Ted listened carefully as the General outlined the situation. The western part of the country had been badly hit by tidal waves, apart from the parts shielded by Ireland, and millions of people had been displaced. It was worse in Ireland, the General noted, but that was no consolation. Food supplies were stretched to the limit, law and order were breaking down and entire regions had slipped out of governmental control. Several cities had been effectively smashed flat.

“Gloucester and Winchester have been effectively annihilated,” the General droned. He nodded to the map, showing the path the waves had taken as they slammed into Britain. “A number of rivers have broken their banks and may even change course permanently, ensuring we can no longer even rely on our maps. Farmland has been ruined, farmers have been displaced and the rain is making it hard to coordinate relief efforts.”

“We cannot expect any help, either,” the Prime Minister said. “The Americans have lost most of their ports along the eastern seaboard, making it harder for them to send emergency food supplies to us. France and Germany escaped the worst of the blows, but have their own problems with the rain.”

Ted nodded, unsurprised. Any government that prioritised assisting another country’s population over its own would be in deep trouble with the electorate, if it lasted long enough to face a general election. It was quite likely that Britain would be unable to hold an election for several years, at best. The entire country had been thoroughly shaken up and there was no census, no idea how many voters had survived or where they were living. It was a nightmare.

“The situation isn’t much better in space,” the First Space Lord said. “The aliens hit the cloudscoops orbiting Jupiter as well as a number of asteroid-mining and shipbuilding facilities. We’re facing a shortage of HE3 at the very moment we need it desperately to power our fusion reactors. Given enough time, we could rebuild and draw on cloudscoops in the settled star systems, but I don’t think the aliens will give us time.”

“I can’t disagree,” Ted said. The aliens had pounded Earth’s orbital installations badly, crippling the human race’s ability to produce new starships and weapons of war. There were other shipyards outside Sol, he knew, but the aliens might go after them next. “But they didn’t follow through their offensive to actually take Earth.”

He looked down at his hands, thinking hard. In hindsight, Operation Nelson had been easy — too easy. It was clear, now, that a sizable portion of the alien fleet had been tasked with attacking Earth, perhaps even seizing the planet if the defenders had been overwhelmed. He ran through the possible course vectors in his head, trying to decide if Nelson had forced the aliens to attack ahead of time or if it had distracted them from taking Earth. But there was no way to know.

“The bottom line,” the Prime Minister said, “is that the war is on the verge of being lost.”

Ted sensed Janelle tensing beside him. He knew how she felt. Defeatism wasn’t something the Royal Navy tolerated, not since the dark days before the Troubles. But cold logic suggested the human race was in deep trouble. The aliens had crippled humanity’s ability to make war, while their own industrial base was undamaged. Combined with their frighteningly advanced technology, they had a very definite advantage that would only grow more pronounced as the war raged on.

Japan, he thought, recalling history lessons. Japan had launched a war — two wars — against the United States, but in neither case had the Japanese been able to prevent the American industrial base from making good America’s losses and then burying the Japanese under a tidal wave of mass production the Japanese had simply been unable to match. Midway wasn’t the battle that had doomed Japan for the very simple reason Japan had been doomed by the decision to go to war. And yet… the Japanese had believed they had no choice.

And the aliens have more settled worlds than us, he thought, morbidly. Does that give them a larger industrial base?

“The tactical analysts were very interested in your reports from Target One,” the First Space Lord said. “In particular, they were interested in the suggestion the aliens have more than one political faction.”

Ted straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir,” he said. “The data does seem to support that conclusion.”

“They even attempted to open communications with us,” the First Space Lord added. “Do you believe they are potential allies?”

“Unknown, sir,” Ted said. “We simply don’t have enough data to speculate. They may be a national grouping in their own right or they may be an oppressed minority, hoping we will save them from their enemies. They may be able to assist us or they may be unable to do more than provide us with limited intelligence.”

“Intelligence is something we need,” the First Space Lord mused. “We have been unable to get anything out of the prisoners, Ted, and our work on their computer systems have produced more questions than answers.”

Ted nodded. They’d pulled a starchart out of the alien computers that had led Ark Royal and her task force to Target One, but they hadn’t learned anything about alien political factions… assuming, of course, it wasn’t an elaborate trick. Most of the data they’d accessed was meaningless gibberish, he’d been told, something utterly useless without the key to read it.

The Prime Minister cleared his throat. “It has been decided, however, that opening communications with Alien Faction Two may well be our best chance for survival,” he said, shortly. “Admiral Smith; you and a small task force will be charged with travelling to alien space and attempting to open communications with the aliens.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Ted said.

He had no illusions. There was no easy way to tell the difference between Faction One and Faction Two, save by watching and waiting to see if the alien ships opened fire. They’d be poking their way through alien space once again, utterly unaware of where they were going or what was waiting for them, hoping and praying to get lucky. It didn’t strike him as a suitable military strategy at all.

But it was also the only one they had.

He took a breath. “Will we be travelling alone?”

“Politically, the world is divided,” the Prime Minister said. “It is unlikely anyone will commit any major starships to the new task force. No one has broken ranks openly, at least not yet, but there have been dark rumblings that some nations are considering trying to broker private deals with the aliens. They might prefer to be Churchill rather than Petain, but…”

He shrugged, expressively. Ted had no difficulty understanding his meaning. It was better to resist than to be a collaborator, but if resistance was truly futile why not be a collaborator and hope for a chance to regain independence in the future? He wondered, absently, which nation would be the first to jump ship and sell out to the aliens. Japan? The Japanese had been hit by worse tidal waves than the UK. Russia? They’d been tapped out by the war. Or France?

But the French fought well in both Operation Nelson and the Battle of Earth, he thought, crossly. They’re not going to betray us now.

“I believe they may assign diplomats to the mission,” the Prime Minister said. “But I don’t expect them to make a full commitment.”

“They’ll put home defence first,” the First Space Lord rumbled. “It will be hard enough avoiding panic when people realise we sent Ark Royal away again.”

“Yes, sir,” Ted said.

“There is a second aspect to your mission,” the Prime Minister said. He nodded towards one of the men Ted didn’t recognise. “Doctor Russell?”

Ted studied the man thoughtfully. He didn’t look like a doctor — and, if he was a doctor, why wasn’t he out on the streets, helping the wounded? Doctor Russell wore a black suit, somehow managing to look elegant even in the bunker, and had shaved his hair close to his scalp. His eyes were hard and cold.

“I trust that everyone here is cleared for this information,” Doctor Russell said. His voice was as cold as his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that certain matters are classified well above most security clearances…”

“Everyone here is cleared,” the Prime Minister snapped. “And besides, it may not be long before the truth comes out.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” Russell said. He nodded to Ted. “As you know, one of the great successes of the Ark Royal’s first long-range mission was to recover a number of samples of alien life from their colony world, both living and dead. The living aliens were transported to a secure facility on Luna where they were examined, while we attempted to communicate with them. In the meantime, the dead aliens were transported to another facility on the edge of the Solar System.”

Ted felt a chill creeping down his spine. Whatever Doctor Russell was about to say, he suspected, he wasn’t going to like it.

“Our principle purpose was to crack the alien genetic code and untangle the mysteries of their biology,” Doctor Russell continued. “Our secondary purpose was to develop a biological weapon that could be used against them, if necessary.”

Janelle gasped. She wasn’t the only one. It was clear, Ted realised, that several of the people at the table, the men and women trying to steer Britain through the greatest crisis in British history, hadn’t heard anything about the project until now. The Leader of the Opposition looked particularly shocked. Even the First Space Lord looked disgusted.

“This was not an easy task,” Doctor Russell continued. If their reaction surprised or annoyed him he showed no sign of it. “The alien biology is completely different from anything native to Earth. We might have prayed for a War of the Worlds scenario, where our diseases bring them down, but it is flatly impossible. Our diseases will not infect them under any circumstances. However, we did find something new.”

The Leader of the Opposition looked revolted. “Are you saying you developed something that will kill them all?”

“We believe so,” Doctor Russell said, flatly. “I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that we uncovered alien germs and viruses within the alien bodies and cultivated them ourselves, then modified their genetic codes to make them more dangerous. The aliens should have no natural resistance to the newly-created disease.”

Ted shuddered. Humanity had managed — barely — to prevent the genetically-engineered disease genie from getting out of its bottle. God knew there had been several terrorist plans to build tailored diseases to wipe out everyone they didn’t like, with the diseases targeting physical features like black skin. But there was so much intermingling these days that such a disease would almost certainly spread out of control.

On one hand, he had to admit, a virus targeted on the aliens would be unlikely to infect humans. But, on the other hand, the aliens would definitely retaliate in kind.

“This is madness,” the Leader of the Opposition snapped. “You’re talking genocide.”

“I’m talking survival,” Doctor Russell said. “The aliens started this damn war. They haven’t told us what they want; hell, we can’t even surrender to the bastards. If it’s a choice between them or us, who do you want to survive?”

General Stewart looked grim. “Can you guarantee the aliens will be affected by your disease?”

“I believe it will work,” Doctor Russell said. “But…”

The General held up a hand. “I am not qualified to discuss the morality of using biological weapons tailored to exterminate an entire race,” he said. “Perhaps the Archbishop of Canterbury would be better placed to give us a ruling. However, there are a number of practical problems. For a start, we give our military personnel tailored boosters to make it harder for them to get ill. How do we know the aliens don’t do the same?”

He went onwards before Doctor Russell could interrupt. “And then we would have to infect one of their settled worlds,” he added. “How do we do that, practically?”

Doctor Russell glared. “I was planning to infect one of the POWs and return him to an alien world…”

“Hell, no,” Ted said. “You’re talking about abusing a prisoner in our custody…”

“I’m talking about survival,” Doctor Russell snapped. “What do our moralities matter when we’re staring at the end of the line?”

Ted met his eyes. “The situation isn’t disastrous,” he said. “Not yet.”

“It will be,” Doctor Russell predicted.

The Prime Minister cleared his throat, loudly. “The deployment of biological weapons — and strikes against the alien civilian populations — will be held as an absolute last resort,” he said, firmly. “However, we will need to continue to research such weapons, just in case.”

He turned to face Ted. “Admiral, you will be assigned a new task force and a diplomatic mission,” he said. “I expect you to depart within the week.”

“Ark Royal requires at least a month of heavy repair work,” Ted said, evenly. The aliens had proved disconcertingly adaptable. Having discovered their weapons didn’t damage the Old Lady’s hull they’d copied a human weapon that did and deployed it with great effect. “And her crew will need time to rest, recuperate and come to terms with everything that’s happened since their return to Earth.”

“Time is not exactly on our side,” the First Space Lord said. “I suggest you expedite matters as much as possible.”

Ted sighed. Ark Royal was heavily armoured, her saving grace when the aliens had attacked her with plasma weapons that had ripped modern carriers to shreds. They could blow weapons and sensor blisters off her hull, but not harm her innards. And yet, the heavy armour that had protected the carrier was also a weakness when it came to repairing the ship after the battle. The armour had to be cut off and then replaced piece by piece.

“We’ll do our best, sir,” he said.

“You can have first call on yard services and engineering crewmen,” the First Space Lord promised. “And whatever else you need.”

A few hundred more carriers just like her, Ted thought. It was clear the aliens had chosen their weapons carefully, intending to slice through human naval fleets like a knife through butter. And it would have worked, too, if Ark Royal hadn’t remained in service. The aliens had evidently missed her when they’d done their survey of human space. But it would be years before another heavy carrier joined the fleet.

“Doctor Russell and his team will accompany you,” the Prime Minister said. “If negotiations fail, or simply don’t get off the ground, you may need them.”

Ted felt sick. The whole concept of biological weapons was obscene. It was the sort of nightmare the Royal Navy was meant to stop, not seriously consider deploying. And yet, even putting morality aside, was there any guarantee the weapons would spread to the entire alien population? Ted rather doubted it. Humanity had dozens of settled worlds; the aliens, if their records were to be believed, had more. They’d slaughter one planet’s population, but the remainder of the alien race would survive… and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that humanity had tried to exterminate them.

“Yes, Prime Minister,” he said. If nothing else, he could make sure that Russell and his team didn’t do anything stupid — or anything likely to make the war worse than it already was. “I won’t let you down.”

The Prime Minister nodded. “You have another appointment, Admiral,” he said. He rose to his feet, signalling the end of the meeting. “The King wishes to speak with you — both of you.”

Ted winced, feeling Janelle’s sudden apprehension. Some bastard in the crew — and Ted intended to keelhaul the blighter when he figured out who — had leaked the news of her relationship with Prince Henry to the media. And some other bastard in the media had spread it far and wide, perhaps calculating the British public needed a diversion after the alien attack had devastated large parts of the country. It was thoroughly absurd, all the more so with millions dead and millions more lost without trace, but the media had still tried to lay siege to Ark Royal anyway. The only explanation that made at least some sense was that the reporters were trying to pretend that everything was normal.

Idiots, he thought, as the room rapidly emptied. Nothing will ever be normal again.

“Yes, Prime Minister,” he said. It wasn’t as if they could decline an invitation from the King, no matter how much his young aide would have preferred to avoid it. “It will be our pleasure.”

The Prime Minister smiled tiredly, perhaps recognising the lie. “Good luck, Admiral,” he said. His voice was utterly tired, tired and depressed. He’d been in charge during the greatest disaster to hit Britain, ever. No matter how many decisions he made, the ultimate resolution wouldn’t come from his office. “We need to end this, as quickly as possible. Whatever we have to do…”

Ted nodded, understanding the Prime Minister’s dilemma. Peace with the aliens would come at a price, of that he was sure. And the aliens — or Faction One, at least — had never shown any interest in talking. Biological warheads might be the only way to force the aliens to the peace table… or at least ensure that humanity remained alive to mourn the genocide that had been wrought in its name. He knew that to be true…

But he didn’t like it. And he hoped he never would.