Part 15 (1/2)

The Doctor squinted up, something on his mind. The crowd was getting louder.

'The voice... ' he said.

It hadn't been the usual Martian grunt, it had been beautiful y modulated, a little quiet, perhaps, the hint of a lisp, but it sounded almost human. 'That's because the speaker was in his native atmosphere,' Benny explained. 'He wasn't gasping for carbon dioxide.'

The Doctor turned back to her, his mouth open. 'I know that,' he said, almost scathingly, 'what I want to know is where he learnt English. Specifically the human names for Martian geographical features on Mars.'

'Good point.' Benny looked over at him. This Doctor could rush in where angels fear to tread, he could drop everything at a moment's notice without a plan or a scheme or a hint of a master plan, but that didn't make him a fool. 'Could they have monitored human radio transmissions?'

The Doctor was staring up at the s.h.i.+p again. 'That's probably it.' The question no longer interested him.

'Are you looking for a way in?' she asked. The Martian s.h.i.+p was two hundred feet above them, its hul was five-metre thick alloy, there was a gun port every ten metres behind which a sonic cannon was powering up. But the Doctor could get in anywhere if he wanted to.

'No,' the Doctor stated.

Benny's face fell. 'No?'

He turned to her and grinned, showing all those teeth. 'Why look for something you've already found?'

The emergency meeting of the United Nations Security Council sat back and listened to a replay of the Martian declaration. One of the members was a great deal more agitated than the others.

'Surely we must seek clarification?'

The French delegate leant forward and began speaking. The translations took a moment to catch up. 'The message is clear, Amba.s.sador Campbell. The Martians' only dispute is with ”the clans of the United Kingdom”.'

There was a babble of discussion around the huge crescent-shaped table.

'Does this mean that the Martians are not threatening the human race, only Great Britain?' one asked.

'It would certainly seem so,' another agreed.

57.The British amba.s.sador straightened. 'Am I to understand that you are considering this a domestic United Kingdom matter?,' he asked incredulously. 'Are you seriously suggesting that these creatures will stop at targeting my country, and that yours wil al be safe?'

'That would certainly seem to be a conclusion that we can draw from the Martian declaration.'

'We have no intention of the whole world being dragged into an interplanetary war.'

'Do you think that the Martians can distinguish between the British and the rest of humanity?'

'You mean they might attack us through ignorance?'

'Or they might think that we are all part of the United Kingdom.'

There was further murmuring around the table.

After twenty minutes of debate, the United Nations agreed to broadcast a request for clarification. They used the radio frequency that the Martians had. The Martian response was almost immediate: 'OUR ONLY DISPUTE IS WITH THE CLANS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM. WE HOPE TO LIVE IN PEACE WITH.

ALL THE OTHER RACES OF THE EARTH. HOWEVER, SHOULD OTHER HUMAN CLANS ATTEMPT TO.

ATTACK MARTIAN TERRITORY OR INTERFERE WITH THE INTERNAL AFFAIRS OF THE MARTIAN.

DEPENDENCIES, THEN THIS WILL BE TREATED AS AN ACT OF WAR AND WE WILL RESPOND IN THE.

APPROPRIATE MANNER.'.

The television commentators and their pundits weren't sure what to make of the announcement. The relief of those outside the British Isles was tangible, and the message of peace was taken as a very encouraging sign. The crowd in Trafalgar Square were more ambivalent. Over the objections of the British contingent, the European Parliament issued a statement welcoming the Martians, and stressing that the EU had no hostile intentions towards 'our Martian neighbours'.

The President of the United States found himself outnumbered by people advising him to appease the Martians.

Many countries issued statements that renounced violence as a general principle, and hoped that the Martians would not resort to it. Most didn't make any statement at all, hoping not to draw attention to themselves. Across the world, hara.s.sed politicians appeared on television screens, declaring that their own countries were not under immediate threat, but that all was being done to defend their borders if the Martians did attack.

Throughout the world, military leave was cancelled, bases were put on full alert and units were mobilised.

Tensions mounted, and the areas p.r.o.ne to rioting did indeed riot. Television commentators from Utah to the Ukraine a.s.sured their viewers that there appeared to be one Martian s.h.i.+p and it was staying firmly in London.

Within the hour, the tone had changed to one of wounded pride: why hadn't the Martians chosen to come to Paris, New York or Moscow?

Brigadier Bambera had spent the last three-quarters of an hour on the telephone, cal ing up as many senior military men as she could. Most seemed to know that UNIT's activities were official y suspended, but in the light of recent events, they were talking to her anyway.

The Martian s.h.i.+p hovered on the video screens, each showing a different TV channel, each showing a slightly different angle of the vast s.p.a.cecraft. Al but one channel showed the s.h.i.+p itself: ITN had resorted to 'artist's impressions' of the aliens.

While the eyes of the media were on the enemy, the Army were dusting off their invasion plans. There was a lot of dust on them. it was over fifty years since there had been any realistic possibility that a foreign power would invade Britain rather than obliterate it with nukes. During al that time, the British Army had kept itself busy with minor skirmishes, training exercises, Northern Ireland and peacekeeping for the UN. The theorists and strategists had spent a lot of their time running war games, planning what they would do in the unlikely event of an invasion of British soil. The computer simulations had proved that the war time plans had been broadly along the right lines.

It was a simple idea, borrowed from the terrorists, guerril as and mercenaries that the Army had spent its time fighting. Elite soldiers would, as the s.e.xist phrase had it, 'kiss their wives and disappear', heading underground to carefully prepared safe houses and secret hideouts. Caches of weapons and other equipment were buried around the country. These soldiers would continue the fight behind enemy lines, helped by careful y-vetted locals with good knowledge of the terrain of their area. Each group would operate like a terrorist cell, to prevent infiltration.

These 'Auxiliary Units' would sabotage bridges and railway lines, monitor enemy troop movements, blow up strategic targets.

All around the country, men were kissing their wives goodbye and disappearing.

Captain Ford was on his way to UNIT HQ in Windmill One-Nine. Because of their unique position, the staff at UNIT HQ would liaise with other countries, provide an 'underground railway' for men and materials. Ford would remove the communications equipment from HQ and take it to the rendezvous point outside Windsor.

Bambera's husband Ancelyn had been in Durham, on a pilgrimage to the tomb of St Cuthbert. Now he was heading to Balmoral with an SAS team to evacuate the Queen and Prince Phillip. The submarine Prometheus Prometheus was waiting to take them to safety. The Prince of Wales and his sons had been on the royal jet when the Martian s.h.i.+p entered the atmosphere. Instead of London, the jet had ended up in Madrid. was waiting to take them to safety. The Prince of Wales and his sons had been on the royal jet when the Martian s.h.i.+p entered the atmosphere. Instead of London, the jet had ended up in Madrid.

58.Other members of the royal family were also being accounted for. Ancelyn would be going with the Queen to Canada, protecting the rightful sovereign and the descendants of the rightful sovereign as his sacred oath demanded.

Bambera would never get the chance to kiss her husband goodbye. She put the phone down.

'We are with you,' Lethbridge-Stewart said. Alexander Christian nodded his consent.

'With respect, gentlemen, no. Go home to your family, Alistair. We'll manage.' Bambera couldn't look them in the eye as she said it.

'No.' Lethbridge-Stewart said firmly. 'This is our fight, too.'

She smiled. 'Good.'