Their Darkest Hour (30 page)

“Or maybe you haven’t found those yet,” Gavin said.  “Tell me something.  Can you alter their files?  Twist the data they’re gathering on our people?  Slip records into the registries...?”

“I don’t think so,” Linux admitted.  “I told you the system was crude – well, it’s very crudeness provides some protection from people like me.  We can read the files – hell, we’ve managed to download terabytes of data we can study without having to remain linked to their network – but altering them would certainly be noticed.  Their core memory systems are ROM – ah, Read Only Memory.  We can’t change them without physical access to the system.”

“Which we’re not likely to get,” Gavin agreed.  He patted the young man on the back.  “Good work.”

“The intelligence staff are working their way through the dump,” Linux added.  “They’re finding it slow going – if there is a listing or filing system, it isn't one that we recognise.  It used to be possible to lose files inside computer networks unless one happened to know its precise location.  I have a feeling that their superior officers probably have their own files concealed from everyone else.  Who knows?  Maybe they all gather dirt on their fellows for advancement.”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me more about their society,” Gavin admitted.  “I don’t suppose you pulled something like Wikipedia out of their database?”

“I don’t think they’d want Wikipedia if they could support it,” Linux said.  “Or Google, for that matter.  Or any of the other computer programs that put power in the hands of the users, rather than systems administrators and the big corporations...”

“I think they have more problems right now,” Gavin said, dryly.  He had a relative who had worked for Google Ireland.  The Leathernecks had largely ignored Ireland, apart from bombarding its military bases and destroying the fragile truce between Ireland’s various factions.  After the remaining British soldiers had been pulled out, Ireland had degenerated into fighting between different factions, with thousands of refugees trying to make it to Britain.  Perhaps the aliens would intervene if they thought there was something in Ireland worth taking.  Or maybe they had too many other problems on their hands.  “What can we do with the access we have?  And can they block us out if they realise that we've hacked their systems?”

“I rather doubt they can block us unless they’re willing to cripple their networks,” Linux said.  “But if they do have enemies out there, they may have security tricks we haven't seen ourselves.  Maybe their enemies have a cunning plan to hijack their wireless computer networks and render their fleets helpless.  And then sexy androids will rule the galaxy.”

He saw Gavin’s face and cleared his throat.  “Sorry, anyway...we may be able to piggyback on their network to send messages to our own people,” he added.  “And seeing that they all radiate wireless signals, we could probably start tracking their movements.  Or...we could rig up a sensor and link it to an IED.  When the signals reach the right intensity, they trigger the IED and it explodes in their face.  Or...”

Gavin held up a hand.  “Good thinking,” he said.  “Let me know if there’s anything else we can do...”

Linux hesitated.  “It
might
be possible for us to interfere with the network,” he said.  “We might be capable of taking it down completely for short periods of time, cutting their small detachments off from higher authority.  The result would be absolute chaos...but they'd know what we’d done.  God alone knows how they’d react.”

“I see,” Gavin said.  “I’ll have to give that some thought.”

He scowled.  After the slaughter in London, they needed to find a way to hit back at the aliens, one that would convince them that slaughtering humans would draw a massive response.  But how could they do that without revealing what few aces they had in their hand?  And what if the aliens decided to destroy the entire human race in response?

***

“Panda Cola,” the logistics officer said.  He tossed a can at Chris, who caught it neatly and scowled down at the label.  “All kept nice and cool for our gallant fighting men.”

“Piss off,” Chris said.  Panda Cola was included in the British Army’s Horror Bags – the packed lunches that were served to soldiers on duty.  It was generally believed that it was produced by forcing a Panda to drink ordinary Coke, then bottling their urine and passing the cans to soldiers, who would then have to drink  the foul liquid.  Chris had heard during his training that the Ministry of Defence allocated 47p to procuring each can of Panda Cola, which raised the question of precisely what happened to the remaining 42p.  “You’d think we could get better rations now we’re living off the land.”

He scowled around the resistance base.  Calling it a base was really too much; they’d built shelters under the trees, trenches just in case the aliens stumbled over their position and a latrine some distance from the sleeping rolls.  Some units, he’d heard, were living in civilian homes, but the aliens were getting better at running random patrols through seemingly-deserted hamlets.  The base was safer, apart from the possibility of poisoning themselves by drinking army-issue Coke.  He opened the can, braced himself and took a swallow.  It tasted just as bad as he remembered.

“At least we’re eating rabbits,” one of the other soldiers pointed out.  It was true; hunting skills they’d been taught were actually coming in handy.  The woodland was full of small animals and vegetation that could be eaten, although they were being very careful with the mushrooms.  If one of the soldiers managed to poison themselves, they wouldn't be able to get them proper treatment.  “We could be eating that foul muck they served us in Edinburgh.”

“I told you that you should have taken the pizza,” his friend pointed out.  Chris felt a pang for the comrades he’d lost in London.  They’d all been jammed together from various units that hadn't made it out intact, but some of them had known each other beforehand.  “When has the Army ever fed us well?”

Chris snorted.  The Army Chefs – the Ration Assassins – had the hardest training course in the British Army.  It had to be – no one had ever actually managed to pass, or so the soldiers joked amongst themselves.  Now, he almost missed them, even though fresh rabbit stew was surprisingly tasty.  Despite himself, he found himself wondering how they were going to cope when winter finally came along.  It would be much harder to find food then – and the aliens, the crafty buggers, were being careful about what they doled out to the civilians.  It would be easy to see if certain civilians were eating more than they should. 

He pushed the thought aside, remembering the horror stories that had floated up from London.  They’d have to make the aliens pay for that, but how?  It had to be something spectacular...absently, he remembered the interior of the alien vehicles.  Humans probably couldn't drive them without major effort.  But they did have collaborators driving their vehicles...

Slowly, a plan started to come together in his mind.  It would be risky as hell, but they were used to that by now.  And they might just have a chance to inflict major damage on an alien base.  Perhaps they could even shatter the ring of steel around London. 

Absently, he reached for a notepad and started jotting down ideas.  The pad would have to be destroyed, of course, but by then he should have a solid concept.  They’d have to link up with other units.  They couldn't do it alone.  He smiled to himself.  It would be good to know that they weren't alone.

And the aliens were in for a very unpleasant surprise.

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.