Their Darkest Hour

Chapter Twenty-Three

Command Base

United Kingdom, Day 27

By long tradition, each separate Land Forces Commander was expected to remain within his Area of Responsibility until relieved of command. The Command Triad, on the other hand, was supposed to remain on their starships, a legacy of the time when a primitive race managed to kill the Command Triad in charge of subduing their world and wreck havoc while their subordinates were still bickering over who was in command. No one seriously expected other powers to send starships to Earth, while humanity had no ability to reach the command starships in orbit. The Command Triad were therefore isolated from the dangers on Earth.

Ju’tro Oheghizh watched as the teleconference slowly came into being. Each of the Land Force Commanders would link into the conference from their bases on the ground, while the Command Triad would attend from orbit. Given what they’d uncovered about human computer systems, it seemed likely that the whole process would be improved in the next few years, once the human technology was understood and integrated into the State. The humans seemed largely unaware of the potential of their own technology, but no one could deny their skill. They would make a very useful client race in the coming decades, serving as soldiers, technicians and inventors. The State would grow far more powerful.

“It has been one local month since we established ourselves on Earth,” Tul’ma Jophuzu said. The Land Forces Commander had taken the lead, as was right and proper. His formations were the ones mainly engaged on Earth. “The humans have proved a more capable foe than we expected, but we have successfully taken and kept vast swaths of their territory.”

The display lit up on his command. There were enclaves on both sides of the American continent, smaller enslaves across Europe, Russia and Australia — and enslaves scattered over Britain. Oheghizh allowed himself an interior sneer. His command might be smaller than the enclaves in America or Europe, but it was far more promising in the long run. Besides, the American humans seemed to keep fighting even when the situation was hopeless. They even seemed to have two guns per adult human. The only other place that had put up such a fight was Switzerland and the mountainous country had been bombarded into submission after the first landings had been repulsed with heavy losses. It would be a long time before they recovered. If only because no one was interested in helping them.

“The plans for the final disposition of their military personnel are already under way,” the Land Forces Commander continued. “They will serve us on other worlds — and be kept separate from wild humans who could learn from their skills. However, our other plans to use Earth as a source of knowledge and technology have been crippled.”

Oheghizh kept his face blank and his body still, refusing to show any emotion. He’d hoped to push forward the schedule for assimilating human technology into the State, but his dreams had vanished when the human suicide bomber — a tactic that made little sense to him — had destroyed the technical college. There were others, of course, but now he had to divert resources to protect the human computer experts and their families — which risked allowing the humans a chance to deduce one of the State’s weaknesses. The humans had more experience in using their technology than the State. They had probably invented thousands of different ways to use computers as weapons.

Va’tro Nak’tak spoke from his position. “We may have misunderstood human social psychology,” he said. “Humans are a contradictory bunch. Some humans will see us as terrifying and will submit to us without hesitation. Their fear, however, will make them less useful than we might have hoped. Some humans will refuse to allow us to cow them and will continue the fight, at least until they are killed in combat. We cannot expect any form of submission from them — and we couldn’t trust it if we got it. Some humans will just try to live their lives as if we didn’t exist, doing whatever it took to survive. We have been unable to put together any explanation for their psychology.

“Unfortunately, it seems that humans are often contemptuous of those who see sense and choose to submit to superior force. The humans who agree to work with us, of their own free will, are hated by their fellow humans and often targeted by them. We have seen collaborators attacked in many different countries, suggesting that the disdain for submission is a common human trait. They seem far more understanding of those we force into collaboration — by holding their families hostage — but there are fine lines that we do not understand. Rather than work towards securing themselves positions within the State, humans will continually lash out at the State.

“Worse, a number of the collaborators are considered… deviant by human standards. Some of them have sexual tastes for young humans who have not yet reached sexual maturity, tastes which we have allowed them to indulge. The vast majority of humans, however, regard the protection of children as a duty and recoil in horror at what we have permitted to occur. This horror has certainly fuelled many attacks on us.”

Oheghizh snorted, along with many others. The idea of a race that seemed to be permanently in mating season wasn’t new, but the humans took it to extremes. It wasn’t too surprising that they’d drawn up sexual customs that looked strange to alien eyes, or that those who defied those customs were hated by their peers. But they made little sense. Among the Eridian, a female who entered mating season would be considered sexually mature — and outside mating season, there would be no sexual contact between males and females. The children of the mating, assuming that one took place, would be raised by the females. There were few permanent sexual bonds between male and female — but they certainly existed among the humans. Many of the humans who had launched suicidal attacks had claimed to be acting in the name of a dead mate.

“In the long term, we expect that the humans will eventually be ground under and reshaped into proper servants of the State,” Va’tro Nak’tak said. “However, we may always have to make allowances for their alien natures. The State may have to devise new rules for them.”

There was a pause. “The human sexual nature rears its head whenever male and female humans are put together. It even appears when some humans have a sexual attraction to their own sex, something unknown among us, but very common to the Paklet. Indeed, some human sects appear to consider females useless for anything other than breeding more humans, even though it is clearly inaccurate. The Paklet, however, do not have intelligent males. Their emotional connections are forged with other females.

“For humanity, we will need to create new rules. We have already started segregating humans in our detention camps by sex. It is quite likely that we will have to rein in our collaborators, if only to prevent us being tarred by the same brush — as the humans would put it…”

Tul’ma Jophuzu snorted. “We can make concessions to their nature once they have submitted,” he said, flatly. “We have crushed their defences and raid where we will, yet they do not submit in large numbers. How do we force them to submit?”

“In the long term, they will submit,” Va’tro Nak’tak said, flatly. “We must simply continue to hold our ground and refuse to abandon territory on Earth. They need to be constantly reminded that all of their attacks have not forced us to withdraw — and that we will never withdraw. They’ll submit in the long run.”

“The longer we wage war on this planet, the greater the chance that one of the other powers will intervene,” A’tar Esuxam said. The Space Forces Commander lifted one clawed hand to stroke his leathery chin. “We may have claimed this system by right of conquest, but we don’t have the firepower to keep a raiding force out if they wanted to hit us — or the coverage to prevent them slipping help to the humans on the surface. And if they realise what a treasure trove we’ve found here, they will be very tempted to intervene.”

Oheghizh couldn’t disagree. Humanity was a treasure trove, even if some of their decisions made little sense to a properly rational race. Their imaginations suggested all kinds of interesting weapons and tactics — and their computers would go a long way towards evening the balance between the State and several of its peer powers. Those powers wouldn’t hesitate to intervene on Earth if they realised the danger — and the humans would certainly seek to make deals with them if they could. The enemy of my enemy, they said, is my friend.

“We need to tighten our grip on their planet,” Tul’ma Jophuzu said. “I want all resistance crushed before they have a chance to find help from outside the system.”

That, Oheghizh thought in the privacy of his own head, would be easier said than done. Humanity just didn’t respond like a rational race, which raised the question of how they’d ever managed to develop atomic weapons without blowing themselves and their world into radioactive debris. Some of the observers had seen human claims of alien contact and wondered if someone might have been covertly assisting humanity’s development, but the starships hadn’t picked up any signs that anyone else might have visited the system. But how else could one explain a development that defied all of the understood rules?

They’re alien, he reminded himself. They might play by different rules.

The Land Force Base near the human city of London was immense. It had been built on top of a human air force base, once the ground had been swept for hidden surprises, and simply expanded outwards. Three fences prevented human insurgents from getting into the base itself, while the outer edge was patrolled regularly by elite infantry units. A series of drones floated high overhead, backed up by attack helicopters and strike fighters. It should have been impregnable.

Tra’tro The’Stig walked across the human runway and up to the prefabricated building. Two guards checked his identity before allowing him to proceed, even though no human could have disguised himself to look like an Eridiani. The very thought was absurd, but the humans were full of nasty surprises. It was better to be paranoid than dead.

The interior of the building felt pleasantly warm and damp to his skin, a change from the cold breezes outside. There were parts of Britain where it never seemed to stop raining, but the rain was always cold and uncomfortable. Even the humans seemed to find it unpleasant, which didn’t stop them from using the rain to cover their movements. The interior was also large enough for him to move freely, without needing to worry about holes torn in human walls or tiny humans lurking in holes too small for an adult Eridiani. It was definitely better than staying in one of the human buildings that had been adapted for their purposes. He saw a pair of females and concealed a wry smile. The seniors were making sure that they were in the right place when the females entered their mating seasons. If he’d smelt the scent that marked a female in heat, he would have fought any other male — superior or not — who tried to prevent him from mating with her. Outside mating season, it was a matter of amusement rather than irritation.

He stepped into the office and thumped his chest with one hand, claws sheathed. Ju’tro Oheghizh was far superior to his lowly position, which made the summons rather more than a bit worrying. He hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as he knew, but it wasn’t always necessary to screw up before being raked over the coals. And yet… he had found himself in command of a scratch Assault Unit made from the remains of several other Assault Units that had been ripped apart by the humans. Had he exceeded his authority badly enough to warrant punishment?

The State demanded nothing, but obedience from low-ranking officers and males. In the privacy of his own head, Tra’tro The’Stig wondered if that was the best way to handle fighting a war. It took time to call for orders from higher authority, time that the humans used to good advantage. How many human insurgents had escaped death because the KEW bombardments had to be ordered by superior officers, rather than the ones on the ground? But if he’d vocalised any of those thoughts… the best outcome would be remaining forever frozen at his current rank. At worst, he would be sent to a punishment unit or a re-education camp.

He waited for his superior to speak, as was proper. “You have served well during the course of the invasion,” Ju’tro Oheghizh said. His superior officer didn’t seem angry. “You fought well and survived the experience.”

The’Stig wondered, just for a moment, if he was being mocked. Yes, he’d survived — and he’d learned never to take anything for granted. The humans had plenty of skill at concealing IEDs in apparently harmless positions, while they were learning how to hurt unwary Assault Units with simpler weapons and tactics. Officers fresh from suspension on the starships, assuming that the war was already over because the human cities had been occupied and their militaries hammered from orbit, had been caught by surprise. Many of them hadn’t survived their first encounter with human insurgents.

“You are promoted to U’tra,” Ju’tro Oheghizh said, almost casually. The’Stig forgot himself and stared at his commanding officer. He was being jumped up two grades…? It had to be a mistake. But then, hadn’t he been serving as an U’tra even without the rank? “You will take command of the reformed Assault Units and commence sweeps for enemy insurgents. I expect you to find them and destroy them. Do you understand me?”

The’Stig saluted, hastily. Yes, he understood all right. The reformed units wouldn’t be neat and orderly, certainly not as orderly as a more conventional commander would have expected. And if he failed in his mission, he could be demoted just as easily. He almost started to laugh at himself. Hadn’t he been sure that he could do better, if he’d been in command? And now he was in command. Failure wasn’t an option.

“I understand,” he said. “I will not fail the State.”

The alien helicopter touched down in the centre of their base and one of his guards half-pushed Alan Beresford towards the hatch. He scrambled out with as much dignity as he could muster, unable to prevent himself from staring at the massive shuttles and other aircraft scattered over the base. The alien buildings seemed dauntingly large, as if they’d been put together by designers without a sense of proportion. He winced at the sound of a jumbo jet coming into land, wondering if it was being piloted by humans or aliens. It seemed unlikely that aliens could fly a human craft, but they’d have to be insane to allow humans to land on their bases. 9/11 had proved just how much damage a crashing jumbo jet could do.

His escort marched him up to one of the alien buildings and into a network of corridors that looked large enough to hold hundreds of aliens at once. The smell was all around him, a scent that reminded him of mucking out a barn on his grandfather’s estate. He’d never realised that the aliens smelled before, but then he’d never been in a building that had housed so many of them at one time. Human buildings probably smelled rank to them too.

He shuddered as they pulled him through a door and into an office. The aliens couldn’t have been very happy with the recent riots in London, or the fact that part of the city had become a no-go area for the police. Their system for controlling the city — and the human population — was breaking down sharply. God alone knew how they planned to respond. He looked up at the oversized desk and saw one of the aliens crouching behind it. They didn’t seem to need chairs, unlike humanity. Or perhaps it was a way to tell him that he wasn’t important to them any longer.

“Your people have proved most disruptive,” the alien said. Was it the one he normally dealt with, or was it another one? There was no way to easily tell them apart. “We are not pleased. We will be launching sweeps to catch human insurgents and we expect you and your people to cooperate fully with us. Failure to cooperate will have the most disastrous consequences.”

Alan didn’t need to be a politician to realise that that was a threat. “I will be honoured to cooperate,” he said, quickly. “Perhaps if you could outline what you wish us to do…”

“We will carry out the sweeps without your assistance,” the alien informed him. “We wish you to round up a number of humans and their families. We have a use for them.”

“But of course,” Alan said. There was no point in refusing now. The aliens would simply kill him and move on to another collaborator. “Might I enquire as to the purpose you have in mind for them…?”

“You will do as you are told,” the alien said, flatly. “If you are incapable of carrying out your orders, we will find someone who is more capable.”

Alan hesitated. If he started rounding people up without explanation, there would be resistance. People would start thinking that the aliens intended to eat them or something equally stupid, which would naturally provoke more resistance. And then his police force, already demoralised, would find itself unable to proceed further. But how could he explain that to the aliens?

“I will carry out your orders,” he said, finally. “I await your command.”