“We have major riots going on in at least six different cities,” Erica said. “Most of them appear to be violence either committed by Muslims or directed against Muslims… and the police. We have some radio contact with police stations across the country, but many of them have been specifically targeted by the mobs, others have been left almost completely alone.” She paused; Langford was starting to dread her pauses. “Many of the rioters are very well armed, sir; this is not a coincidence.”
“I am really starting to hate the Russians,” Langford said. He stared at the display, willing it to suddenly start making sense; how could anyone sort the entire mess out? France in 1940 had looked hopeless, but so had Russia in 1941; quick and decisive leadership had made the difference between disgraceful defeat and a final victory. The Russians were powerful, but they couldn’t be invading Britain at the moment, could they…?
He looked up at her. “The forces in Poland?”
Erica looked at Casey. “No word,” he said. “We have a status report sent to PJHQ every hour upon the hour; the last one was at 1000hrs. If there was one at 1100hrs, we missed it in all the confusion, but the 1000hrs report stated that there were no major problems. The daily report to the European Defence Commission from General Konrad Trautman, which is copied to us as well, stated no problems apart from a small fight between a German soldier and a Polish civilian. Since then, we have lost all communications with both EUROFOR Poland and the EUROFOR Standing Force in the Mediterranean.”
He tapped the display again. “We maintained a regular listening watch through GCHQ of European communications,” he said, as close as anyone had ever come to admitting that the British spied on their allies. Langford had never doubted it; the French, Germans and Americans almost certainly did the exact same thing. “However, the Doughnut — GCHQ headquarters in Cheltenham — was hit by the Russians; all functionality was apparently destroyed. Regardless, we have had radio crews attempting to read messages from the continent… and we believe that the Russians have not confined their attentions to just us. We have no direct contact with Brussels, Paris or Berlin, but we have been picking up thousands of garbled messages, and some hints that Russian jamming is operating in France and the Netherlands region. From what we have detected, we believe that there are major riots going on in France as well, and a call for jihad has been detected coming from Algeria.”
Langford closed his eyes. “Make finding out what is actually happening there your first priority,” he ordered. “Now… what about our military situation? What do we have to work with?”
“We have something around four thousand soldiers in units that we have contact with,” Erica said. “Many of those are TA reservists who have been trying to report in; in some places, the TA bases have been completely destroyed. We think that there are still more soldiers out there, but they haven’t been able to report in to their commanding officers, or have started to look after their families rather than report for duty. Under the circumstances, that’s understandable.”
“No it bloody isn’t,” Langford muttered. “Fine; what about the aerial situation? Can we expect air raids?”
“The entire CAA flight control network has been thoroughly screwed,” Sargon said. “The Sentry crew have been working hard to get the civilian aircraft in the air out of the air as fast as possible, but it’s not easy; we’ve had at least two crashes that happened because of pilot error under pressure, rather than SAM teams. Airport security agents at Birmingham shot two terrorists with a missile launcher; its all-too-possible that there are others crawling around somewhere, waiting for a target. We have some nightmarish possibilities here; the Russians have long planned to insert agents into hostile countries to launch acts of sabotage against the local government.”
Langford shook his head slowly. “The last time we seriously drilled for that was before I was even born,” he said. “What happens if…?”
He looked up at Sargon. “And?”
“We have twelve aircraft flying CAP in the air now; we were fortunate enough that the QRA aircraft were launched on the first signs of trouble,” Sargon said. “Two more were caught in blasts as the missiles exploded, wrecking runways and hangers alike; the loss rate was quite heavy. Our main problem is that our logistics chain has been shot to hell; we have lost supply bases and stocks without knowing quite what we have lost. Replacing it all is going to be a nightmare…
“We don’t see any conventional threat to Britain as yet,” he continued. “We have tracked some aircraft over France, but they didn’t seem to have any serious purpose and were totally unresponsive to radio hails. Some other aircraft were utterly confused; I think that elements in France have been shooting them down, just as they have here. Overall, sir… if the Russians sail the Admiral Sergey Gorshkov into the North Sea, we might have real problems countering the threat. In a couple of days, we should know just how bad the situation is; we should be able to call on some help from Europe, at least the French.”
“Dear God,” Langford breathed. “What have we come to?”
He stood up. “First order, then,” he said, trusting them to carry it out. “I want us to mobilise what remains of the Territorial Army, and then prepare to retake our cities, by whatever means necessary. Briggs was talking about problems in London, so I want whatever survived at the nearby garrisons formed up into scratch units and moved in. I want those problems stamped on fast.”
“Second; I want as much as possible of the navy at sea,” he continued. “I — we — need to secure the sea lanes as quickly as possible, before it occurs to the Russians that sinking a few dozen ships would complete the task of strangling us. Get back in touch with Admiral Wilkinson, whatever it takes. We’re going to have to recall his force and forget the Falklands. For now.”
Casey was moved to protest. “Sir…?”
Langford swung around on him. “What price the jewel in the crown, such as it is, if the crown itself is lost?” Casey said nothing. “Third… dear God, what do we tell the people…?”
Erica smiled. “You could always tell them the truth,” she said. “There are a lot of frightened people out there and they need to know that there is continuity of government and that it’s not the end of the world.”
“I know,” Langford said. “But Major… what if it is?”
Interlude Two: The Price of Inaction
All over Europe, the chickens were coming home.
It started in Paris, where Algerian sleeper cells had worked for years, preparing the revolution. The plan had been simple; supplying the weapons had been even simpler. The Algerians had only a small force of radicals, but they knew that many of their fellow Arabs would join them, while the Palestinians would bring their talents at confounding the Israelis to work against the French. At the designated moment, the call for Jihad was sent out and the first bombs started to detonate in the city.
All over Paris, police and government buildings found themselves under attack; the missile strikes had shattered the French command and control systems, preventing a unified response. Algerian sleeper teams seized several important targets, while isolated police and military units found themselves fighting a desperate running battle for survival. They responded with brutal force, allowing racism to surge to the surface, inciting more violence as Paris dissolved into a nightmare of fire and death. The sleepers had planned carefully; before the day was done, they wanted to hold the entire city and proclaim their new world.
The same story was occurring all over Europe. In Spain, long the favoured destination of Moroccans and Algerians, massive bombs shattered buildings and spread panic. Rumours were rife, ranging from the long-dreaded civil war courted by the ETA to a landing of soldiers from America; panic and chaos spread rapidly. The missiles had shattered the Spanish Government, leaving only fire and death in their wake. In Germany, the far-right came out and attacked Muslim and Turkish immigrants, along with Russian guest workers and even American tourists, promoting massive retaliation by the ethnic groups. A savage multi-sided war had begun right in the heart of Europe.