Their Darkest Hour

Chapter Six

London

United Kingdom, Day 1

“My God.”

From his vantage point, Robin had been able to see some of the fighting — too much of the fighting. What he’d seen had left him silently grateful that he wasn’t close enough to see the rest of it. The aliens had landed in force — two of their transports had been shot down, including one that had crashed into the other side of the Thames — and taken Whitehall. God alone knew how many soldiers had been killed in an ultimately futile last stand.

He looked down towards the streets. They had been emptying with remarkable speed as people fled the battle, heading towards their homes in the hope that they might find safety with their families and friends. Robin suspected that there was going to be no such thing as safety in London for the next few weeks, if not ever. What the hell did the aliens want? Part of him refused to believe that there were aliens, but the evidence was undeniable. The flames and smoke rising up in the distance suggested that the world had indeed turned upside down.

“Sergeant,” one of the other policemen said, “what the hell do we do?”

Robin silently cursed him for asking that question. In truth, he had no idea what they should do, because the Met had never seriously considered that London might be invaded. The last time the British police had considered the question had been back during World War Two, when — if he recalled correctly — they’d been ordered to maintain public order, but avoid giving any help to the Germans. But the Germans had never invaded and the plans had never been put to the test. What would the aliens do now they’d won themselves a city?

His radio buzzed, suddenly. The jamming seemed to have stopped, suggesting… what? Logically, the aliens would have wanted to keep the police and military forces fragmented, but perhaps their own communications were affected by their jamming. Or perhaps they were going to be hunting down any remaining soldiers and hoped that some of them would be foolish enough to use their radios. Or perhaps… he pushed the thoughts aside as a cold voice, utterly inhuman, echoed out over the airwaves. The aliens were finally making their demands known.

“Attention,” the voice said. “This is Ju’tro Oheghizh, speaking for the Eridian State. All humans are to pay careful attention to this message on pain of punishment. Planet Earth has been conquered and is now part of the Eridian State. Your leaders have been captured or killed; your military forces have been scattered. Further resistance is futile. Accept your new position in the universe or you will be destroyed.

“All civilian humans are to remain within their homes until instructed to report to the occupation authorities,” it continued. “Any attempt to impede the passage of my forces will result in severe punishment. Human military and police personnel are to turn themselves in to my forces. All weapons are to be surrendered to the occupation authorities. Failure to report will result in…”

“Severe punishment,” Robin muttered. The aliens didn’t seem to hide their intentions. There was no guff about coming to liberate humanity from human leaders; nothing, but naked force. And they’d already taken London. “And what happens if we report in?”

The message came to an end and then started to repeat itself. Robin listened a second time, but there were no differences — and no clue as to the fate of police and military personnel. If he recalled correctly, Iraq had collapsed into chaos partly because of the absence of a proper police force, yet the aliens might not care about chaos on the ground. Their attacks on London had shown a frightening lack of concern for civilian casualties. He glanced up as another alien transport roared overhead, dropping what looked like heavy crates towards the ground. They’d probably start pushing out from Westminster as soon as they felt strong enough to brave the surrounding city. God knew it wasn’t as if there was much in the way to stop them.

“We go to the nearest police station,” he said, finally. Scotland Yard might be gone, but it was far from the only police station in London. “We take the weapons and we conceal them somewhere before they think to secure the stations for themselves. And then we wait and see what happens next.”

He watched as the policemen leapt to work, grateful that someone had finally told them what to do. Robin shook his head as they started to run through deserted streets, avoiding crashed and abandoned cars, hoping against hope that they would find someone more senior to issue further orders. He didn’t have the slightest idea what to do next.

Ju’tro Oheghizh stepped off the shuttle and onto Earth, looking around him with ill-concealed interest. The humans seemed to have built habitations suitable for smaller creatures than themselves, although many of their buildings had been levelled by the first wave of assault troopers. A handful of humans, several wounded, sat in the middle of the grassy park, watched by armed guards. It was difficult to read human expressions, but some of them were clearly watching his troopers and considering how best to escape. Others seemed to be completely unaware of their surroundings. The discovery that there were other races out among the stars was always a shock to planet-bound races, even ones who had conceived the possibility long before they reached into space. He doubted that the humans would be any different from the other races brought into the State. It would take time to hammer their new status into their heads.

“The lead assault units were badly hurt,” J’tra Rahol reported, as soon as they exchanged salutes. “The humans fought bravely and well. We’re still finding traps left behind in the ruins — their small size gives them an advantage that cost many of our lives before we adapted.”

Oheghizh narrowed his snout. “And the surrendered humans?”

“Many appear to be in shock,” his subordinate reported, as they walked into the makeshift command centre. Oheghizh had hoped to set up in the human buildings, but if the humans had had time to leave surprises behind them, it would be unduly risky. “I do not believe that we have captured any truly important humans. Their leaders appear to have fled before we landed in their city.”

“Unsurprising,” Oheghizh said. There had always been an awareness that the human leaders might have been able to get out of their city — London, they called it — before the assault force landed. Some of the Land Force Commanders had called for targeting the human leadership with strikes from orbit, but the Command Triad had overruled them. They needed to bring the humans into the State as quickly as possible and having their leaders alive would make that easier. It would take too long to rebuild human society directly. “Do we have any idea of their current location?”

Rahol tapped the computer display. “The humans appear to be attempting to regroup their forces to the west,” he said. “A number of human military units apparently escaped destruction during the opening minutes of the bombardment, including a number of air defence units. We have targeted active sensor emitters from orbit, but they appear to have learned from experience and are keeping any remaining active sensors turned off. Their effectiveness will decrease rapidly as we have destroyed their bases and supply dumps.”

He pointed one long finger at the human road network. “Our own forces are landing around the cities, trapping the human civilians within our grasp,” he continued. “There have been a handful of engagements between our forces and human military units, but most human units seem to be attempting to avoid contact. We have broadcast our demands for surrender on all human military and civilian channels. So far we have received no reply.”

Oheghizh nodded, slowly. The humans were no doubt shocked by their sudden fall from power on their homeworld. Given time, they could probably regroup and launch a series of counterattacks that would cost the State dearly — and put a hold on his personal career ambitions. Logically, they needed to maintain the pressure as much as they could; practically, they needed to get set up on the ground before the naval forces surrounding Earth insisted on withdrawing most of the transports. The humans had managed to shoot down a number of shuttles, more than any of the planners had expected. Logistics were going to be weaker than anyone had expected when they’d drawn up the plans to invade Earth.

But it wouldn’t last. The humans were just as dependent upon supplies to keep their forces moving as the State — and their supply dumps were flaming ruin. Their effectiveness would fall sharply over the next few days, leaving them without the ability to do more than harass his forces. And then they’d be in control and well on the way to turning Earth into a productive outpost. The humans were certainly more capable of labouring for the State than several other races he could mention!

“Keep grouping our forces for a push westwards,” he ordered, finally. There was no way to know how the great mass of human civilians would react to their presence. The human government seemed to believe that keeping the civilian population disarmed was a good thing — although some of their measures had seemed so absurd he’d wondered if there was a translation problem — but it was clear that they’d never quite succeeded. Orbital observation indicated mass unrest in parts of the human city. It couldn’t be tolerated. The Land Forces would have to open up the roads to allow supplies to be moved around the region. “And expand our patrol perimeter. I want the humans to feel our foot on their chest.”

Garden House School had been a primary school yesterday, when the world had made sense and aliens were just figments of human imagination. Now, it had been turned into a makeshift medical centre, following emergency plans that had been drawn up sometime during the cold war. Classroom tables had been pushed together and covered with blankets, allowing the wounded somewhere to wait for treatment. Fatima wanted to close her eyes and rest, but there was no time. The small number of medical staff in attendance were doing what they could, yet there seemed to be no end to the wounded. And the civilian volunteers were doing more harm than good. She bandaged up a wound that really needed an operation in a proper hospital, knowing that she might have condemned the patient to a slow and unpleasant death. Any half-trained doctor knew the value of a sterile environment, but they didn’t have a hope of maintaining one in the school.

She removed her scarf as she saw the next patient, a small girl barely old enough to go to school. Her parents seemed to be in shock, pointing at their daughter’s arm as if they expected Fatima to be able to know what was wrong just by looking. She always hated treating children — young children couldn’t tell doctors what was really wrong with them — but there was no choice. She wrapped the scarf around the child’s arm, turning it into a makeshift sling. It crossed her mind that her stepmother would be horrified to see her in public with her hair uncovered and she almost broke down into helpless giggles. After everything else that had happened since the first explosions, it was almost a relief to worry about something so petty.

“She’s in pain,” the mother insisted. “Can’t you give her something for the pain?”

Fatima shook her head, grimly. The school had had a well-stocked medical room, but they’d used almost all of the painkillers within the first hour. They’d sent runners to the nearest hospital in the hopes of getting more, yet none of the runners had returned. Fatima’s superiors had been reduced to urging policemen to take painkillers from nearby shops, along with what other medical supplies they could find. And there still seemed to be no end to the wounded. Leaving a child in pain tore at her heart, but what else could they do?

She heard the sound of screaming from outside and closed her eyes. London had had riots before, but what would happen with an alien invasion force in the heart of the city? She breathed a silent prayer as the sound of gunshots echoed out in the distance, followed by a faint humming that seemed to echo in the back of her head. One of the doctors walked over to the classroom door and peered down the corridor. He jumped back, his face white as a sheet.

“They’re coming,” he said. His legs buckled and he collapsed on the floor. “They’re coming!”

Fatima braced herself as the first of the aliens came into view. It was clear that the alien — she couldn’t tell if it was male or female — seemed to be having trouble in corridors designed for humans. The weapon it carried in one hand looked too large to be carried by a human, although she had to admit that she knew almost nothing about weapons. Dark eyes, seemingly without any colours at all, peered around the room. Fatima met them for a second and was struck by just how alien the alien seemed to be. It turned and headed onwards, followed by a small number of other aliens. Fatima realised, as she felt her own legs give way, that they were expanding outwards. God alone knew what they’d do when they ran into resistance…

And, despite herself, she hoped that they would place the makeshift hospital under guard. If London really did dissolve into chaos, the hospitals and chemists would be among the first places targeted for drugs. Who knew how the aliens would react to rioters?

Building by building, the advancing assault unit swept through the human city. Outside their government centre, it seemed that there had been no time to rig traps or other surprises, although Tra’tro The’Stig knew better than to take anything for granted. His superiors had noted his achievement in the first battles by granting him a lead role in the expansion, along with reinforcements that had been dispatched from orbit. It was a honour he would happily have foregone. The oddly misshapen humans seemed either curious or terrified of his patrol; he watched in amusement as some ran away, while others just stared at them as if they’d never seen a non-human before. He shifted his weapon towards one of the humans who was paying too much attention to them in hopes of scaring the little creature away. The human emitted a high-pitched whine and fled.

The humans had abandoned many of their vehicles in positions that made it harder for the tankers to advance in support of the ground troops. Two of the tanks had already started pushing human vehicles to one side, but the remainder were holding back, nervous about the consequences of meddling with alien technology. Besides, the humans had shown a flair for creating traps and no tanker wished to lose his vehicle to a mere improvised bomb. The’Stig cursed them under his breath, even as he saw another group of humans ahead of him. They were staring at his patrol as if they couldn’t believe their eyes…

A human voice yelled a command and the first projectiles crashed down around them. The’Stig’s first thought was that they were under attack by human soldiers, but they were throwing glass bottles and stones rather than grenades and bullets. A moment later, one of the bottles crashed down on top of a trooper’s head, sending him sprawling down onto the road. The humans might not be soldiers, but they could harm his troopers. Their defiance could not be tolerated.

He snarled as he pulled down on the firing trigger and sprayed bullets over the humans within eyesight. They fell to the ground in bloody heaps, their comrades suddenly running back as if they’d realised that it wasn’t a good idea to challenge the occupation force. The’Stig refused to let them go easily; he lunged forward, firing burst after burst as he moved. The attack ended almost as quickly as it had begun, with a number of humans dead and two of his troopers mildly injured. He silently made a note to praise the body armour in his report. If they hadn’t been so well-protected, they would have certainly had more injured, if not dead.

“Advance,” he ordered, sharply.

The force continued on its way, coordinating with other groups as they pressed out along the human roads. It dawned on him suddenly that they weren’t really controlling the city at all, merely the main roads they intended to use for transporting supplies. They simply didn’t have the numbers to maintain control over the entire city. After a moment of thought, he kept that insight to himself. His superior officers no doubt knew all about it and intended to deal with the humans in another manner. Their city was dependent upon food supplies from outside, wasn’t it? They could simply be starved to death if they refused to cooperate.

He smiled darkly as the first assault drone hummed overhead, watching for further human ambushes. The humans who had escaped the brief engagement — if he dignified the one-sided massacre by calling it an engagement — would spread the word. Any attempts to slow the occupation force would not be tolerated. Maybe the humans would learn quickly enough that the occupation force could relax.

The drone reported what looked like another ambush up ahead. He checked his weapon as the force moved carefully onwards, ready to deal with the ambush when it was triggered. The humans would learn — or they would die. In the end, he told himself firmly, Earth would belong to the State. The only real question was how many humans would have to die before the rest realised that they had no choice, but to submit.