The Yeomen of England (Posleen in England)

Ten Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

13^stth November 2004
“They’re doing what?” The Prime Minister demanded. The Foreign Secretary wilted under his incredulous gaze. “What are they doing?”
The Foreign Secretary gathered himself. “The French are protesting against the war,” he said. “Apparently, some of them are blaming the war on the Americans.”
“Madness,” the Prime Minister said, shaking his head. “Nearly two hundred thousand of our people dead in Aberdeen, dozens of French and Germans and Spanish dead in the bombardment of the PDC centres, America and Iran invaded…and they claim that they don’t exist.”
Sir Robert met the Prime Minister’s eye for a long moment. “What about the Middle East?” The Prime Minister asked, determinedly changing the subject. “Coming to think of it, what about India?”
“The Iranian Revolutionary Council is proclaiming great success,” the Foreign Secretary said. “It’s the problem of Africa that’s the real problem; the Posleen are moving there like wildfire.”
“Bastards,” the Prime Minister commented. “And India?”
“They’re rather…confused,” the Foreign Secretary admitted. “The Posleen seem to have spread through Vietnam, Burma and Bangladesh, but its all rather confusing really.”
The Prime Minister smiled at the weak joke. “And they’re all screaming for help,” he said. “We can’t help them. Now, what about the German plan?”
The Foreign Secretary hesitated. “They’re going to rejuvenate some of the SS personnel they still have hanging around,” he said. “It sounds like madness.”
“I know,” the Prime Minister said. He shook his head. “Living under Hitler, or a Hitler-type, or being eaten. What sort of choice is that?”
“The German left has made the decision that it’s a very bad choice,” the Foreign Secretary admitted. “It’s just…well, you know what they’re like.”
The Prime Minister nodded. The Europeans weren’t responding well to the crisis; the French soldiers had fought well on the alien worlds, but they were limited from mass conscription, which is what they desperately needed. The Germans, too, were suffering from the same problem, while the Poles and Eastern Europeans simply didn’t have the resources to mount a determined defence.
He sighed. The Germans allowed for consciences objection, on whatever grounds took the person’s fancy, and there were so many possible reasons for a country as devoutly demilitarised as Germany. As for France, with a long tradition of futile bloodletting…
He dismissed his thoughts with an effort. It wasn’t something that he could affect.
“There’s always option zero,” Sir Robert said quietly. The Prime Minister nodded; he supposed that they had to consider it, even though it was far too dangerous to discuss in Parliament.
“I understand,” he said to the Foreign Secretary. “Can you please communicate our concern to the German government over this whole…distasteful SS matter?”
The Foreign Secretary grinned. “It shall be done,” he said. “One other matter; what about the request from Ireland for help?”
“How bloody ironic,” Sir Robert commented. Ireland had suddenly woken up to the realities of the Posleen, and in their panic they had realised that they were practically defenceless. Irony of ironies, some of the population was fleeing for the north, despite the withdrawal of most of the British troops.
“Shut up,” the Prime Minister said, without malice. Impatience was one thing, but it needed to be controlled. “Tell them…we’ll help them as much as we can, but under certain conditions.” He smiled. “We’ll sort those out later.”
The Foreign Secretary nodded and left. “The Darhel,” Sir Robert said, as soon as the room was secured. “They have to be behind this.”
“I saw the report from Margent,” the Prime Minister said. Somewhere along the years, his attitudes to her had changed. “She’s not in an easy position, is she?”
Sir Robert shook his head grimly. “Fortunately, we don’t have to tolerate protests like the French Government, but we don’t have the Darhel agents whispering poison in our ears.”
“You’re that confident that it’s them?” The Prime Minister asked. “What the hell do we do about it?”
Sir Robert shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what we can do,” he admitted. “On one hand, did you read Margent’s note about Aberdeen?”
“I read it,” the Prime Minister said grimly. “Do you think she’s right?”
“The Darhel got the fake bit of information, Aberdeen didn’t have a PDC that close to it and I’m not supposed to believe in coincidence,” Sir Robert said. “I suppose that it could have been coincidence, but the odds are vastly against it. Worse…did you read that ultra-confidential note from the Americans?”
“The Posleen hacked into the AID network,” the Prime Minister said. “I trust that precautions are being taken against them doing the same thing to us?”
“We’re going to be removing the AID units from the main communication centres, according to General Mathews and General Anderson,” Sir Robert said. “You’ll have to ask them for a briefing, but as I understand it we’ll be laying vastly more telephone and Internet links than we have already, just to try to duplicate what the AID network gave us.
“However, we don’t believe that the Posleen managed to hack into the Darhel network,” he continued, after a long moment. “It’s much more likely that the Darhel uploaded the information into whatever the Posleen use.”
The Prime Minister swore vilely. “Why, damn it?” He snapped. “What the hell do they have to gain?”
“A tame force of humans, grown from the children they took?” Sir Robert suggested. “The real question, sir; what do we do about the Darhel and the information they demanded from Hammond?”
“I’m thinking,” the Prime Minister said, after a moment. He considered quickly. “We have all of her ‘sources’ under our control, don’t we?” He asked. He smiled suddenly. “They are the people we selected?”
“They’re as crooked as a fifty-pound note,” Sir Robert assured him. The original fifty-pound notes had been laughably easy to forge. “We arranged for them to join Hammond, and of course to report to us.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” The Prime Minister asked dryly. He chuckled. “You’re just a big kid playing secret agent.”
“Well, you know, if the Posleen hadn’t arrived, we would have continued enjoying this century of peace,” Sir Robert said. “I’m just grateful for the higher budget.”
“Hired gun,” the Prime Minister teased. “So, what exactly do we give them?”
“The news about the hacked AID units is everywhere, so we don’t have to worry about maintaining security on that,” Sir Robert said. “On the other hand, we can take the Darhel assurances that it was a unique incident at face value, at least to their face, and assure them that the communications network we’re building for the defence is intended only as a back-up.”
“You are enjoying this,” the Prime Minister accused. “Carry on.”
“We can lie to some extent about the deployments of our troops,” Sir Robert continued. “In fact, if we keep it honest until the Posleen arrive, we might be able to fool them into believing that they are really getting honest information, and if they do have other sources…”
The Prime Minister scowled. “Would you not know if they have other sources?”
“I can’t swear to it,” Sir Robert admitted. He grinned. “I’ll have to discuss it with General Mathews, but we might just have the beginnings of a plan to trap the Posleen here.” He tapped one of the big war maps. “I think we’d better get some of our industry moved, I think,” he said, more grimly. “If they did target Aberdeen because of our industrial plants there, then they won’t hesitate to target others. In fact…”
***

The news that Annemarie Mai, Green and Socialist representative from Wiesbaden, Germany, had thrown her weight behind the German Kanzler's mad idea to resurrect parts of the dreaded SS disappointed Hammond, even though she understood the logic behind it. Mai…wasn’t particularly smart, but even she understood that survival cancelled out programming.

“Madam, Mr Griffin is here to see you,” her secretary said. Officially, she hired Jane Smart with the money that Griffin had given her; unofficially, MI5 had assigned her to assist her in lying to the aliens.
“Send him in,” she said. In public, Griffin was always careful to remain subordinate to her, even though both of them knew the truth. In private…
“So, how is it going?” Griffin asked. “Have you found out anything useful?”
“I know that the Socialist International is up in arms about the SS,” she said. She understood their concern as well; faking anger and horror was easy. She felt them, after all. “How dare they bring back the bastards who killed thousands of Jews?”
“And to think that Mr Irving’s trial was put off because of the Posleen,” Griffin said. Hammond looked at him with a flicker of respect; few people followed such events so closely. She scowled; or, perhaps, had an AID picked it out?
“There are important matters,” she said, only partly serious. “What do you want?”
“You helping people to protest against a government which has abandoned their home countries and their relatives would be nice,” Griffin said. “And, of course, we want you to…protest against the SS.”
“And exactly what do you expect our government to do, even if they listened?” Hammond asked. “It’s a German matter, you know. What do we have to threaten them with?”
“The point is to encourage the German protesters in Germany,” Griffin said. “The Posleen, after all, will not land in Germany.”
Hammond lifted an eyebrow, thinking fast. Did the Darhel know that for certain, or were they lying? “How do you know that?”
“Well, everyone knows that the Posleen do not exist,” Griffin said. He smiled wryly. “All a Hollywood job, don’t you know?”
Several answers came to Hammond’s tongue. She forced them back down with an effort. “I will do what I can,” she said. “You know that it has become harder to protest recently.” She smiled; it had been though her work that that was so. “What else do you want?”
Griffin leaned closer to her. “You know what I want,” he said.
Hammond reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a wad of papers. “Here,” she said. “I advise you to keep them hidden, for if I have to go down, you’re going down with me.”
“Thinking of blackmail, are we?” Griffin asked. “My…master has diplomatic immunity. You, on the other hand, do not.”