Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [86]
Deliberate confusion, the EZ security chiefs advised their ministers. Deniability. The ability to claim that whatever was happening wasn’t happening with presidential approval.
There were two American fleets in the Mediterranean. One in the Gulf, one in the Atlantic. The EZ navy were outnumbered, even on their own doorstep. The Americans had a ring of missile bases in the Med, too. Smart missiles that could hit any point in Europe, pretty well before they could scramble interceptors.
Meanwhile, the rumours were that the Americans had at least some sort of laser anti‐missile defence. Conventional strategic thinking was that you told your enemy about your defences, to deter them from attacking. But the EZ weren’t the enemy of the Americans, not conventionally. Conventionally, you wouldn’t start your attack on Europe by flying three squadrons into Russia.
The political leaders of the Eurozone agreed that it was all adding up to a sneak attack by the Americans. A few junior White House and defence department staff were vehemently denying it, the ambassadors claimed not to know anything about it.
But the idea that the President had vanished was just ridiculous. Vanished where?
The situation now was critical.
For the Eurozone security advisers, it was simple. Either the Americans knew where the President was, and were launching a sneak attack, or there was confusion, possibly a critical power vacuum in the US chain of command.
Either way, there was only one sensible response for the Eurozone.
The Eurozone Council authorised an attack on United States forces in the Mediterranean and North Africa.
* * *
The deputy leader strode through the hangar, his warriors behind him.
In Terran gravity, they moved easily, almost skipping. This was a large chamber. The first location they had arrived at in the human structure had been appallingly cramped, and in the corridors they had had to move carefully, and in single file.
They had found a laboratory. There had only been room for two Onihrs, and a quick investigation revealed eleven dead human civilians.
‘Killed by projectile weapons,’ the scouts had told him. ‘There is no evidence that these humans were armed.’
‘There is more than one human faction at work here,’ another had concluded.
‘The only conclusion is that there is a rival group of humans who want the time machine.’
‘This is a complex situation.’
The deputy leader nodded his agreement. ‘Whoever killed these humans is clearly endeavouring to simplify matters.’ He had studied his control box. ‘We will teleport to the large hangar area, and –’ they’d teleported then – ‘eradicate all humans.’
Before they’d drawn breath, they were under attack.
The bullets bounced off the Onihr armour, but the momentum was enough to knock the deputy leader off his feet in this perilously thin gravity.
He struggled back on to his knees. Their attackers were primitive robots, little more than mobile artillery pieces. Behind the robots, two small groups of humans were running in opposite directions.
The bullets kept coming. For such ineffective weapons, they were certainly efficient – hundreds of projectiles had reached their target. None had even dented or scratched the armour.
The Onihr was on his feet, now.
A single shot sliced the nearest robot in half. It fell to the floor, still firing for a couple more seconds.
The next robot launched itself at the Onihr, clumsily charging.
A couple of shots from his cohorts disabled the machine. It clattered to the floor in bits. The other warriors took their time, striding up to the machine, pulling the casing off, tearing out the vital components with their bare hands.
The Onihr kicked at the remains. There was a chance that a lucky shot could injure an Onihr. A slim chance.
* * *
Anji was attacking the foam insert of the case.
Baskerville had left it behind in his hurry to get out of the crossfire. The Doctor had grabbed it as he and his companions had also beat a retreat. They were back out on the runway now.