Christopher Nuttall - Their Darkest Hour

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.