The Yeomen of England (Posleen in England)

BBC Headquarters

Near Newcastle, United Kingdom

15^th July 2005
Charlene lifted a single eyebrow as she entered the new BBC headquarters, buried deep under a field near Newcastle. The transmission towers, occasionally targeted by the Posleen in America, had been placed further away, well away from the headquarters. She passed through a long tunnel before reaching the headquarters itself, a simple Spartan room with several dozen people working there.
“This must have cost a bomb,” she said, as soon as she saw Edmund Robertson. The current Head of Programming grinned up at her. “What on Earth did it cost?”
“Less than you might think,” Robertson said. “We’re not just a BBC headquarters, but also one of the main communications hubs between here, London and Edinburgh, particularly if the Posleen take out the main radio links. If they do, we’re going to serve the Government as a relay centre, which means that they will allow us to use this bunker.”
He waved a hand around the bunker. “I know its not got hot and cold running Champagne, at least not yet, but its home.”
“It’s good to know that there will be a safe place for most of the staff,” Charlene said. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Oh, senior management is going to be moving up north,” Robertson said. Charlene snorted rudely. “They are going to the Shetlands, but us poor schmucks are going to be in the firing line, which is one reason for living here instead of a luxury apartment. If the Posleen come, we can hide out here for nearly a year, if we have to.”
“I think I would sooner be in bed with that actor from the SuperGoons TV show,” Charlene said dryly. “What are you going to do with me?”
“You know, I heard you the first time,” Robertson said wryly. “That depends; what do you want to do? I was quite impressed with your work in Germany.”
Charlene shuddered. She’d flown back to Britain that evening. The SS goons hadn’t hurt the reporters, but they’d scared hell out of them. “Not back to Germany,” she said firmly. “That was quite bad enough the first time around.”
Robertson looked into her eyes and didn’t pry. “So, where do you want to go?” He asked. “You could report from London again, or you could be an embedded reporter.”
“I’m not sure,” Charlene admitted. “Where do you want me?”
“On the bed, stark naked,” Robertson said, leering. Charlene glared at him. “Oh come on, what was I going to say with that lead-up? I would prefer to have you in London, myself; you have been promised access and I suspect that they would be willing to continue to share information and exclusives with you.”
Charlene nodded. “Please consider your face slapped,” she said. “London it is, then.”

Rusholme, Manchester

17^th July 2005
Sameena lay in bed, her eyes closed, but not asleep. She smiled slightly as Brad’s hands found their way between her legs, exploring her private parts. She sighed as his fingers explored her body, making Brad giggle with delight.
“Caught you out,” he said, and kissed her gently. “You’re awake.”
Sameena opened her eyes and did her best to project annoyance at him. “I suppose you want your pound of flesh,” she said, and leered. “Ten bob to you.”
Brad leaned over and kissed her again. “What about five minutes of mouth to mouth exploration?” He asked huskily. “What about…”
The Civil Defence Alarms rang. Their pagers started to ring at the same time, announcing CONDITION RED, time and time again. Brad swore, caught between his lusts and his duty; Sameena, who was feeling randy herself, understood. Cursing, she swung out of bed, reaching for the uniform she’d taken care to keep ready at all times.
“I don’t want to die a virgin,” Brad said, as he jumped out of bed. Sameena watched as his erection rapidly vanished as he pulled on his own uniform; CONDITION RED meant ‘Posleen landing within thirty minutes.’
“You’re not a bloody virgin,” Sameena snapped, as she pulled on her shoes and ran for the door. A momentary check of the House Destruct System confirmed that it was ready and waiting to be linked into the city’s defence network, a mined house for the Posleen to be blown to bits on. “I have the proof of it.”
“I thought that you enjoyed it,” Brad snapped, running up behind her. The alarms continued to howl, even as their pagers fell silent, warning them to meet at the CDC station.
“I do,” Sameena snapped back. A single flick of the switch placed the life and death of their house in the hands of the city’s defenders, before they locked the door and ran down the stairs. Neither of them had a car, but neither of them needed one; the CDC centre was only ten minutes away.
“I love you,” Brad said, taking her hand as they ran. All around them, thousands of people were running for their lives, some towards their stations, and some towards the evacuation points. Even with the growing number of pagers and PDA units, the population was still not ready for the Posleen attack.
“A good thing school’s out,” Sameena shouted, over the howl of the alarms. “Otherwise there would be thousands of kids on the streets.”
“Those that haven’t already been evacuated,” Brad shouted back. “Lover, save your breath and run!”
Sameena was gasping with the effort by the time they ran into the CDC centre, which was starting to fill up with people. The main display, linked into the TERDEF network, was blinking with red icons, but it didn’t include the telltale words.
“This is a fucking drill,” Brad muttered. “I swear I’m going to kill the bastard who came up with this idea.”
“Stop arguing and move,” Sergeant Kendrick snapped. “Move.”
Brad kissed her once, hard, and ran on to the control room. Sameena watched him go, and then ran to the medical centre. They would need her skills.
“Welcome back,” Doctor Tyler sneered. She didn’t mind; he was like that with everyone. At that moment, the alarms stopped. “It looks like that was a drill.”
“I’m speechless,” Sameena said, in between gasps for breath.
“Clearly not,” Doctor Tyler said. He glared around as the other medical staff piled in, then checked the video link to the other medial centres. “You will doubtless be pleased to know that this is a drill,” he said. “However, your reaction time wasn’t perfect.”
Doctor Foster, who led the team that had been on standby, glared at him. “Doctor, we are not machines,” he said. “The Posleen will not be landing for at least an hour based on past evidence and…”
“And is there any evidence that the Posleen cannot land at once?” Doctor Tyler snapped. He glared around the room. “We have to be here, we have to get organised, and we have to be on the streets before the Posleen start to land.”
Nurse Betty coughed. “The Government says that the Posleen cannot land until they have orientated themselves,” she said. Sameena had often wondered how Betty had gotten the post; her massive assets did not include intelligence.
Doctor Tyler fixed her with his stare. “And when did the Government last tell the truth?” He asked. “Governments always lie, dear, when they are under serious threat, and then are now, would you not agree? Look at Africa, look at India; the price of failure is very clear.”
He ignored her stuttering, turning to face the rest of them. “I expect to see a better reaction time from you all next time,” he said. “Good day.”
Sameena sighed and left the medical room, wondering what Brad was doing. She didn’t have long to wonder as someone kissed her from behind. “Hi honey, I’m home,” he muttered in her ear.
“Up mine,” Sameena said wryly. She led him out of the centre, watching as thousands of people streamed back to their homes. Most of them were muttering angrily.
“Do you think that we do too many drills?” She asked. “Doctor Tyler gave us all hell today, just for not moving fast enough.”
Brad scowled. “Want me to kick his ass?” He asked. “I know; I agree with you. We do this every fifth day and people are getting pissed.”
Sameena shook her head. “Let’s go get something to eat,” she said. “Big brother is in town, and he promised he’d meet us later.”
***

Sarfraz had done something that would have Sergeant Benton very annoyed with him and Captain Yates seriously displeased; he’d arranged matters so that Anisa missed out on the drill. He rarely saw his girlfriend and he had decided that he needed the time, just to talk with her. Her father would have been most…unhappy if they had done anything else.

“I’m sorry I can’t come to see you more,” he said, hoping that she understood. She could give serious grudge and had ever since he’d pulled her pigtails when she was very young. “They’re making us work hard.”
Anisa looked up at him sadly. “They’re making us work harder here too,” she said. “I’ve been doing part-time medical work here, just to do what they want and still help dad, ever since…”
Sarfraz, greatly daring, reached out and kissed her on the forehead. Her mother and her three brothers had died in the riots. “I understand,” he said. He’d never been very good with the sensitive stuff. “I’m always here for you.”
“I saw Noreen recently,” Anisa said, with the typical female ability to ignore a rival, once she was neutralised. “She was spreading her thighs for a fat older man; I saw them together. She’s pregnant, again.”
Sarfraz shook his head. For a moment, he thought of how much sex he could have had, but he dismissed it. Anisa was intelligent; Noreen had been anything, but. He smiled down at his girlfriend; her soft brown skin and dark brown eyes made her seem older than she really was. He reached out and squeezed her hand.
“I have an offer for you,” he said. “I…have you and Sameena registered as my heirs, in the event of something happening to me.”
Anisa winced. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said. “I want you here, in my arms.”
Sarfraz looked at her. “Will you marry me?” He asked. “Even as my fiancée, you would be prioritised for evacuation.”
Anisa blinked. “What would the army say if you got me out of here?”
“Nothing,” Sarfraz said. “If you become my engaged partner, you would have the right to one of the first places in the Sub-Urbs, which are loading up now.”
Anisa smiled sadly. “I will,” she said. “But I will have to ask my dad.” She smiled. “I think he’s been waiting for you to ask.” She kissed him once, the first time she’d kissed him in her house. “I’ll just go ask.”
She ran inside, leaving him to wait. Sarfraz sighed; as much as he enjoyed Mr Kalmar’s chess playing skills, he knew that he wanted the best for his daughter, the sole remaining family he had, between the Posleen and the riots.
“He wants you to come see him,” Anisa said, after a long moment. Sarfraz gulped and walked up the stairs, leaving Anisa downstairs. He muttered a prayer under his breath, hoping that Allah would grant him the courage to face Mr Kalmar. He would have almost preferred to take on a Posleen stark naked.
“Salaam,” he said, as he walked into Mr Kalmar’s room. Anisa’s father was very much the typical Muslim, a man with long dark hair and eyes that sparkled with amusement.
“Salaam,” Mr Kalmar said. He spoke in English; a courtesy to Sarfraz. “You have finally proposed, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” Sarfraz said. He said nothing else, but waited. Normally, his father would have done all of the negotiation, but his father was dead.
“You will take care of her,” Mr Kalmar said. It wasn’t a question. He coughed once, a deep hacking cough. “I will not live to see my grandchildren.”
Sarfraz panicked, then realised that Mr Kalmar didn’t think that he’d gotten Anisa pregnant. The amused glitter in the old man’s eyes showed that he understood. Deep inside, Mr Kalmar remembered being young himself.
“I could make you wait,” Mr Kalmar said. “I won’t, however; I give you my permission.”
He hesitated for a long moment. “You will have to be married soon, of course,” he said.
Sarfraz hardly heard him, for inside his heart was singing. The Posleen might be coming, they might be almost at Earth, but that was all right; her father had consented. The birds were singing and Sarfraz had never been happier. The storm was coming; threatening to sweep over everything that was merely human…but for the moment peace reigned everywhere.