Invasion

Carmichael wanted to laugh, but it wouldn’t come. The Russians had retreated completely inside themselves, not taking part in the insurgency, or even fighting the aliens. They’d engaged the aliens during the first battle, back when it had looked like Earth could do more than kick and scratch on its way to the gallows, but now they were almost completely uncommunicative. News from Russia was very sparse and talked, in worried tones, of tanks in the streets and chaos at the highest levels. Langley had wondered if the Russians were in the middle of a civil war, but with so little intelligence leaking out, it was impossible to tell. They’d grown too used to intelligence being available at the push of a button.

“That would be fitting,” he said. He knew that some European governments were shitting bricks after Washington, even though they had lived with the threat of nuclear war since the fifties, because the aliens had proved that they could and would strike cities. The destruction of Tel Aviv had only reinforced that impression. He worried that some of them would back off from supporting the insurgents, but now…it was much harder to call off an operation just because it was politically inconvenient and might embarrass a major government. “Perhaps they’ll go invade the Russians instead.”

“There’s also an ugly little rumour being passed around the bazaar,” Captain Harper said. “They were saying that a lot of refugees have been coming into the city, claiming that the aliens have driven them out of their homes and sent them into the desert to die.”

Carmichael blinked. “Fake, do you think?”

“Impossible to tell,” Captain Harper said. He shrugged. “Except there was a similar story being passed around the Internet from Texas, claiming that the aliens were depopulating entire towns, for no apparent reason. They just show up, order the people out, and take over. It could be an odd coincidence, but…”

***

There was no change in the noise of the city, no call to prayer echoing over the city, but the streets suddenly became empty as shoppers and civilians, most of them completely unemployed now since the government had collapsed, headed to their homes to pray. The aliens hadn’t twigged, openly, that any Muslim could lead prayers, although their experience with other sects in Texas would probably tip them off, sooner or later. Sergeant Sean Gartlan watched from his position as the civilians started to filter home, clearing the streets completely, apart from his small group.

He looked back at them now. They were all young, Arab, and determined to fight. They’d also been pains in the arse, and if he hadn’t needed them, he would have dumped them all or done the resistance a big favour by selling them out to the aliens. The aliens had crushed their semi-comfortable lives, and now they wanted to fight, but they needed training and experience. They had once followed mullahs and clerics who had promised bloody revolution and a change in the established order, but if nothing else, the massacre of the young religious students on the day that Riyadh fell had convinced them that the mullahs didn’t have the slightest idea of how to fight. Neither did they; Sean had tested them, several times, and had realised that they were more likely to be dangerous to each other than the enemy. Given time, and a proper training camp, they might have made soldiers, but without such luxuries, the best he could do was give them a quick course in urban combat and hope that they could take a few of the aliens with them.

“Remember,” he hissed, in Arabic. “Do not open fire until I give the word, or I’ll cut off your dicks, understand?”

The alien patrol was late, unsurprisingly. They’d learned after a few ambushes in Texas to keep their patrols on a varying schedule, just to make planning an ambush difficult. Sean had been careful to keep the young men from attacking until conditions were absolutely perfect, even though they wanted to attack as soon as they saw a hint of the alien presence, knowing that they would need all the advantages they could get. The aliens, if nothing else, would have passed through the area several times, unmolested. Like every other city they had occupied, Riyadh was now almost completely without moving human vehicles. There were a handful driven by collaborators, some of them formerly the possessions of princes who’d been killed, captured, or quick enough on their feet to flee, and one of them had been parked on the curb. The collaborator had been, apparently, a lousy driver…and the trunk had been packed with explosives.