Christopher Nuttall: The Trafalgar Gambit

“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.