The White Death (23 page)

Chapter 44

In Downing Street, Prime Minister William Stone arrived in the underground operations room to a fully convened cabinet. Stone was tired, much like his American counterpart, but the business of government waited for no one. He was convinced his hair had turned completely white now.

“Prime Minister,” said Admiral Bellamy.

“Admiral, give me an update,” said Stone, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “I’m due in Buckingham Palace in half a hour.”

“His Majesty may have to wait,” said Bellamy. “We’ve detected a Russian battle fleet heading toward British waters.”

Stone stopped breathing for a few seconds, giving a quick look to the cabinet secretary, who had just taken a seat beside him.

“Time to arrival?” said Stone.

“Less than two hours at their current speed,” said Bellamy. The admiral showed those assembled a live feed, with red dots moving across the North Sea toward Britain.

“Why are we only discovering this now?” said Stone, shouting louder than he’d intended.

“Prime Minister…” said Bellamy.

“Why?” he asked again, not able to control his anger. “A Russian battle fleet is steaming towards the British coast, and we’re only finding out now? We’re not exactly talking about a dinghy here, Admiral.”

“Our military forces are stretched,” said Bellamy, his voice cracking with anger.

“Disaster after disaster,” said Stone.

“Prime Minister, our satellites were focused on the European mainland, tracking infected population movements,” said Bellamy. “We can’t do everything. We’re not America, and our own carriers are not in home waters. I wish we could perform miracles, but we can’t, so don’t expect them.”

Stone, despite being prime minister, felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t a man who liked conflict. The admiral was right; this situation was unprecedented.

“Prime Minister,” said Paul McAddle. Stone was thankful for his cabinet secretary to break the tension. “We refused aid to the Russian government, when the virus penetrated their borders. Moscow’s ambassador had to be forcibly removed from our foreign office after he became violent.”

“Government evacuation and military strikes—wasn’t that it?” said Stone.

“Yes, sir,” said McAddle. “It’s my worry that the Russian fleet may not be open to negotiation.”

“They may even be hostile,” said Bellamy.

“Well, we need to find out either way,” said Stone.

“We’ll know any minute now,” said Bellamy. “HMS
Defiant
is attempting to communicate with them. What we do know is they are not carrying the Russian president. We have confirmed reports that his convoy was attacked as he traveled back to Moscow.”

“Paul, get the Americans on the line,” said Stone. “Keep them updated.” If this did turn hostile, it would be useful to have the Americans on their side.

“Right away,” said McAddle, lifting the phone.

“We also have reports that France has now been totally overrun,” said the foreign secretary. “Satellite imagery, along with reconnaissance flights, confirmed as much.”

“What’s the status of SAS deployment?”

“They are preparing to enter French airspace in fifteen minutes,” said McAddle. Britain’s entire special operations force was in rapid preparation mode. “Will I tell them to hold off?”

“No. Press on with that.” He had authorized a mission into France to disable their nuclear power plants. There were fears that a meltdown could send nuclear fallout their way. Nuclear power plants across Europe would need to be shut down. He watched Bellamy listen to the captain of the HMS
Defiant
, attempting to negotiate with the Russian battle fleet.

“They claim to be seeking asylum,” said Bellamy.

“How many?” asked Stone.

“Fifteen ships. Eleven thousand men and women,” said Bellamy. “Estimates, of course.”

“But are they virus-free?” asked McAddle, speaking very clearly to emphasize his question.

“We’re trying to figure that out now,” said Bellamy.

“Another 11,000 to support,” said McAddle. “Sir, we’re already stretched with everyone we rescued from France. We’ll run out of food. We’re a food-importing nation, and we can’t change that overnight.”

“If there’s no risk of infection, we can’t abandon those people,” said Stone. He wasn’t prepared to turn his back on anyone if it was at all possible to save them. “Now is the time to pull together, not tear each other apart. Americans?”

“General Richards is monitoring,” said McAddle. The admiral’s face contorted, hearing some bitter news.

“Prime Minister, they claim to have some infected personnel in sealed containment rooms on their ships. But they stress they are contained and not a risk.”

“We can’t let them enter British waters,” said McAddle like a hawk.

“Admiral, inform the
Defiant
to order the Russians not to enter our waters. We will fly out supplies to them, but they cannot enter.”

“Yes sir,” said Bellamy.

Chapter 45

Onboard the HMS
Defiant
, Captain Stewart issued orders to his Russian translator, who had been relaying the message to the Russian aircraft carrier.

“No response, Captain.”

“Damn,” said Stewart. “What are they playing at out there?”

“Coming into visual range, Captain,” said the helmsperson.

Stewart and Benet grabbed binoculars and watched the threatening Russian fleet incoming.

“Hail them again,” ordered Stewart. “They are to come to a full stop, and relief supplies will be provided.”

“We’re getting a message.”

“Quiet,” said Stewart across the bridge.

“They are demanding a safe port to dock in.”

“Repeat our message,” said Stewart. “Docking is not permitted, and if they attempt to do so, it will be considered a hostile act.”

Listening to the message being relayed, Stewart knew he would soon be in battle. Having witnessed war firsthand, the feeling never left him.

“No response,” said Commander Benet.

“Incoming missile,” shouted Chief Tactical Officer David Laurence.

“Activate defense systems,” ordered Stewart.

“All hands, brace for impact,” said Benet over the ship-wide radio.

Two supersonic rail guns activated, the onboard computer tracing the incoming missile.

“Three seconds to impact,” said Laurence.

“Brace,” said Benet.

Stewart tightened his grip on the rail, ready to be thrown downwards. A stream of super-fast white bullets darted off into the distance ahead of the
Defiant
, attempting to find their target.

“Destroyed,” said Laurence as the bridge lit up from the orange explosion. “Just in time.”

“Hail the carrier,” said Stewart.

“They’re preparing to launch fighters,” said Laurence.

“Battle stations,” shouted Stewart, and the alarm bell sounded throughout the ship.

“We have activity on their aircraft carrier,” said Quinn. “Detecting twelve readying for launch.”

“Admiral Bellamy reports the
Prince Charles
and
London
destroyers are at full impulse to support us,” said Benet. Rain started coming down hard on the
Defiant
, and Stewart lost sight of the Russian fleet behind tall black waves. The
Defiant
engaged full impulse and swung hard to port.

“We can’t let them just sail into the British capital,” said Stewart. “Bring all weapons to bear. Continue to repeat our warnings that we will retaliate in full force.”

Across the ship, the highly trained crew manned their posts and prepared the
Defiant
’s bristling array of deadly weapons.

“No response to our hails,” said Benet.

“Inform Admiral Bellamy,” said Stewart. He delegated that task now to his commander, wanting to be in full control of the bridge during battle.

“Those fighters are heading towards the mainland,” said Laurence.

“Lock targets and prepare to fire,” commanded Stewart, peering through his binoculars again.

“Twelve targets locked,” said Laurence. The
Defiant
could target over 100 enemy planes at once and had a world-class missile firing system.

“The Royal Air Force is in rapid launch mode,” said Benet. “Admiral Bellamy has authorized us to use all necessary force. They are not to dock, and you are fleet commander.”

“Understood,” said Stewart. He felt no constraints now, with diplomatic protocol sidelined. “Tactical, fire!”

The sea was stormy, and the
Defiant
lunged from port to starboard and back again. Missiles were launched from the ship’s main battery, filling the deck with white smoke.

“All targets destroyed,” said Laurence after a few moments.

“Begin evasive maneuvers,” ordered Benet to the helm.

“Incoming missiles,” shouted Quinn. Her flashing radar screen showed two dots quickly approaching the
Defiant
.

“Engage them,” ordered Stewart. The supersonic guns again sprayed bullets in the intended path of the missiles. Two bright explosions took over the stormy night sky, with British jets swishing past the
Defiant
and engaging their Russian counterparts in a ferocious air battle.

“Russian Frigate
Minsk
has entered weapons range,” said Laurence. “And our air support has arrived.”

“Let’s give our boys up there some help,” said Stewart. “Commander!”

“Tactical, target the
Minsk
and fire two Trison missiles,” ordered Benet.

“Target locked and confirmed.”

“Fire,” ordered Stewart.

The
Minsk
was hit, and her emergency siren started. She sank quickly, and little lifeboat launches were detected.

“HMS
Prince Charles
and
London
are entering combat range,” said Benet.

“Excellent,” said Stewart, appreciating backup. “Inform the fleet to align in chevron formation.”

A Russian fighter crashed into the wavy sea just before the
Defiant
, and the ship steered hard to starboard to avoid a head-on collision. The battle raged for another ten minutes, with the
Defiant
sustaining a direct but controllable hit. She continued fighting from a distance while the
Prince Charles
and
London
went forward and engaged Russian destroyers on both port and starboard.

“We’ve detected a submarine,” said Quinn, radar officer. She uploaded the radar display to the main screens.

“Get the
Prince Charles
to attack that sub, now,” ordered Stewart. The order had no quicker left his mouth than he was thrown, along with the bridge crew, from his seat and into the air.

“Report,” he shouted, blood gashing from his forehead. It was warm and kept bleeding.

“Direct hit,” said Benet. “Sections three to seven are flooding. Initiating emergency containment.”

The
Prince Charles
and
London
came in at each side, flanking the damaged
Defiant
.
Prince Charles
proceeded to drop depth charges against the submarine.

“Captain, we have to abandon ship,” said Benet.

“Laurence,” said Stewart, wiping the blood from his eyes. “Tactical status?”

“We still have weapon power,” said Laurence, on his knees. “One of our own subs is moving in to attack range.”

“Then we can’t leave,” said Stewart. “The Russians cannot be allowed to reach the mainland. Back to stations. All weapons, fire at will!”

Chapter 46

Stone hadn’t moved in the last half-hour as his cabinet listened in on the battle raging along Britain’s east coast. Explosions, orders, and screams came across the sound system. To him, war was a truly horrifying thing.

“We shouldn’t be fighting each other, now of all times.”

“Leave it to the Russians,” said McAddle.

“Any news?” said Stone as Bellamy reentered.

“We’ve disabled two destroyers and destroyed five more,” said Bellamy. The old admiral, dressed in full uniform, was still top of his game. “The Russian Navy is antiquated, Prime Minister. What they possess in numerical advantage doesn’t make up for old technology and inferior weapons systems. My men out there are the best.”

“Casualties?”

“The
Defiant
has been hit by a submarine, which we later destroyed,” said Bellamy. “But most of their air force has been neutralized, and none of our own planes were downed in the fighting.”

“Can we save the
Defiant
?” said Stone. He was worried about the crew, but they needed the ship as well.

“Adrift but salvageable. She is continuing to fight on.”

“It’s the nuclear weapons I’m concerned about,” said McAddle.

“Our intelligence reports have long indicated the Russian nuclear arsenal was reduced to bare minimum operating capacity,” said General Davies. “As their economy continued to collapse, the CIA and MI6 believed they had less than 150 nuclear missiles that could be launched in retaliation.”

“Just enough to keep them in the game,” said McAddle.

“Yes,” said Davies. “It was still a considerable threat, and they could activate their remaining stockpile quickly enough. Russia is now overrun, and the government nonexistent. Our only threat from nuclear attack will come from the five nuclear submarines they have at sea.”

“Five submarines with over 100 warheads,” said McAddle. “Enough to turn Britain to ashes.”

“We have contact,” said Bellamy. He pressed his ear to the telephone. “The Russian admiral claims he is what is left of the Russian government, which also includes three nuclear armed submarines.”

“He’s threatening us,” said McAddle. “I don’t believe he would have the codes to launch such an attack. Only the Russian premier and minister of defense hold the nuclear launch codes. Both were in the convoy we have positively identified as being … infected.”

“Are you saying with 100 percent certainty they are empty threats?” asked Stone.

“No one can give that guarantee.”

“The Russians would happily put the security of Britain at risk to save a few thousand of their own,” said General Davies. “This is their form of diplomatic pressure.”

“Desperate for asylum,” said Stone. “We have to try and calm him down.”

“But we cannot permit docking,” said McAddle.

“No, definitely not,” said Stone. “No matter what, we don’t let that happen. We offer to look after them, supply them.”

“We have to assume at the minute they’re desperate enough to do anything,” said McAddle.

“Patching through to the president,” came an older female voice over the phone with a distinct American twang.

“William,” came Thomas.

“Thomas, we have a situation.”

After being brought up to speed, Thomas took a few moments to consult with his own advisors.

“Prime Minister,” said Bellamy. Interrupting a phone call between the prime minister and the president was usually a grave faux pas, but this was urgent. “The Russian admiral is demanding we allow his ships to continue to British port. He has reiterated his threat.”

“William,” said Thomas, who was listening in, “ask the Russian admiral to agree to a video conference with the two of us. Perhaps we can calm the situation down, in case the worst-case scenario isn’t as unlikely as you think.”

Stone ordered Bellamy to make it happen, who was listening to the president on loudspeaker. A few minutes later, a highly distraught and agitated Russian admiral appeared on the large video screen behind Bellamy, facing Stone. Stone was surprised—he expected to be greeted by a defiant Russian stalwart.

“Patching through to the White House control room.”

“Admiral,” began Stone as the screen split to show both the Russian admiral and the President of the United States. “Britain cannot be held to nuclear ransom by you or any other country. I understand your situation is dire, but at the moment you are not permitted to dock in any of Britain’s ports.”

“The United States supports Britain in their view on this,” said Thomas, with Richards to his left and Gail to his right. The admiral had to steady himself to stay standing, as the storm intensified.

“Prime Minister. Mr. President. I just watched my country fall to this killer virus in a matter of hours. It spread across the border from Asia like an unstoppable plague. No matter what we tried, it wasn’t enough. You repeatedly refused our requests for military assistance, and the deaths of our citizens are on your hands.”

“We had to protect our own countries,” said Stone.

Thomas remained placid, waiting for the right moment.

“I am demanding you let us dock or face the consequences.” The admiral was now shouting at full volume, struggling to hold back tears. Stone sympathized with him. He had just lost his country and was trying to save what troops were left under his command.

“Admiral, you must understand that…”

“What has this got to do with America anyway?” he snapped as Stone looked on.

“The United States of America,” began Thomas in a much more threatening tone, “considers Britain its closest ally. I have thousands of citizens based in the country. They are very much my responsibility, Admiral.”

The admiral paid close attention to the American president, hanging on to each word.

“The remaining unaffected countries around the world are trying their best to regain some control of the situation for the future of our race,” said Thomas. “You are not helping us in that.”

“Consider the threat you are making here,” added Stone. “If you launch a nuclear attack on Britain, the Royal Navy will obliterate your fleet into a million pieces. I will not hesitate to give that order, Admiral.”

“And if that happens,” said Thomas, “you will have no future, and neither will the Russian people. The United States is working on a way to combat this virus. It won’t be easy, and afterwards we will be rebuilding in a way this world has never seen, but we can rebuild. Britain will be vital to rebuilding Europe. Don’t force our hand here.”

Stone watched Thomas play a magnificent game of political poker with the Russian admiral. No vaccine was likely coming; they had discussed as much privately. But if that information were publicly known, then what was left of law and order would fall apart within hours. He watched Thomas finish, now wanting to add his own final part.

“If you do, you will consign Russia to the history books forever.” Stone crossed his legs and looked at McAddle, who gave the slightest nod of approval.

“Admiral,” said Thomas, “trust in us. Stay onboard your ships. If we go to battle, your fleet will be destroyed, but there’s something more important to think of.”

“Which is what?” said the Russian admiral, his voice beginning to creak.

“Your duty to carry on the Russian nation. You have a few thousand Russian citizens onboard those ships. Without you, there will be no Russia after this crisis. It’s up to you to carry your flag now. Sit tight and let us get the situation under control. You are what’s left of Russian civilization. The French people we rescued only hours ago now look to the future, as well, knowing they are all that’s left to begin anew.”

“I’ll need to confer with my crew,” he said after a long pause.

“Of course.” Stone let out a big sigh and thanked Thomas for his intervention. Even with the world on the brink, America was still the country heeded by every nation on Earth.

“Paul, get food and medical supplies arranged for our Russian friends,” said Stone. “Perhaps, on that rare occasion, the calmer side of human nature has prevailed.”

“And our fleet?” asked Bellamy.

“Have them stay out there,” ordered Stone. “In case I’m wrong.”