“Status update on Richmond Park?” a blue-jacketed Air Force officer asked.

“They’re holding,” Anne replied. “Chikaradzuyoi is staying outside the range of the Carnotaur’s grip, and hitting whenever they get close. The water constructs have done some damage.”

“Shields?”

“Still active on the Carnotaur.”

“Troop casualties?”

“Uh… Colonel Barnaby reports forty dead, two hundred twenty evacuated, about fifteen hundred effectives. Running low on ammo.”

“Tell him to rotate one battalion back,” Brigadier Waters ordered. “The Second Wessex is standing by to assist him.”

“Got it.”

Across the city, in Richmond Park, her nanobots assembled themselves in ungainly scrawls, spelling out the orders as best she could. “Uh, Colonel Barnaby wants to know what sequence.”

She could see the irritated expression on the brigadier’s face. “Show him this diagram.” He pointed to a map with a dozen arrows in seemingly random directions. “It should be obvious.”

“Waters,” Windsor chided gently from the side. “The nanobots can’t send that much information. She has enough with Barnaby to spell out a few words at a time, that’s it.”

“Sorry, sir,” Waters was sheepish. “We’re just not used to operating on so little bandwidth.”

“We’re lucky Nanocloud is here, otherwise we’d be down to using just the Travelers for communication. Speaking of which - Pemberley. Any progress on finding the jammer?”

“We sent out eight corporals on motorbikes to the edges of the city. Two have reported from the edges of the jamming field.” Pemberley pointed to two large red dots on a map of London. “We need one more point, two to be certain, and we can locate the jammer.”

“You’re certain?”

“We’re assuming the field is perfectly circular. I need three points at the edge to find the centre of a circle; the fourth is to confirm.”

“And if the jammer is, say, about a kilometre away from the exact centre?”

“Then we have a problem.”

“Keep at it. Nanocloud, how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, sir.” Anne gulped. “It’s just… this is a lot more than I expected.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just like Liverpool, only multiplied by twenty. Have you had water in the last hour?”

“... no? I don’t think so…”

“Corporal Spicer, get Nanocloud some water please. Your job for now is to make sure she stays hydrated.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Pemberley, keep an eye on things for me here.” Windsor strode off to break up an argument between a group of officers at the next table.

Anne was grateful for the respite. “Uh, Brigadier Waters, Barnaby needs orders….”

“Tell him to follow formation Foxtrot-two-seven-Gamma.”

“Done, sir. He’s yelling some stuff to his men now.”

The Brigadier nodded, then hunched over yet another map.

Maps were everywhere, thought Anne, and there was no shortage of officers squinting over them and arguing with each other. Windsor was going from cluster to cluster, mediating and resolving shouting matches - sometimes by dint of shouting even louder.

“They’re like kids,” she grumbled softly.

“You’d be surprised,” Pemberley replied. “Sometimes it’s a lot worse.”

Anne blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“It’s fine. Passions are high right now - they’re not used to acting on so little information. Or being unable to see what’s happening with their own eyes. You know, we never had to deal with city-wide jamming before?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“We thought the aliens didn’t know how to jam our communications.... Pretty foolish, considering.”

“How many alien troops do you think they have?”

Pemberley quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“I’d just like to know, that’s all.”

“Based on what you’ve been able to see and what our troops have counted in the field, we’d say about a hundred and thirty thousand. Remaining.”

Anne winced. “That’s bad.”

“We’ll handle it. Casualties are a bit higher than anticipated, that’s all.”

“Can we? I thought we were taking ten-to-one losses….”

“We were, at first, but now things have bogged down. We’re in holding actions across most of the city. Firefights everywhere … you can see most of them, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Between your information, the Farseers we have on staff right now, and the Travelers hopping from place to place, we’ve got a partial command-and-control network back up. So far, estimates are we’ve killed almost seven thousand aliens. That makes this the highest kill count in history.”

“That’s still just five percent.”

“Have patience. Half our troops are tied up on Carnotaur suppression as it is, if we can swing things there the tides will turn. And if we find that jammer.”

“Right. Oh, Corporal Buttigieg reached the edge of the jamming field, he’s at Dartford on the A2…”

“Coordinates?”

“He says he’s just outside Darenth County Park.”

“Hmm.” Pemberley pulled up a map on her tablet. “Three points…. Dammit.”

“You found it?”

“I found a centre, yes. Sinclair!”

“Ma’am?”

“Check this.”

The blonde-haired naval officer looked at the numbers, then frowned. “That’s right in the middle of the Thames.”

“Can we reach it?”

“... The Special Boat Service can. I’ll get in touch… um. Nanocloud, request if you can send a message to the SBS……”

“Where do I send it?”

Sinclair looked conflicted.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Veda?”

“... she doesn’t have clearance...”

“I think we’d better give her clearance. That is, if you want the SBS to actually go looking for the jammer.”

“Yes ma’am. Send nanobots to 1422, Northby Building, Blackwall….” Sinclair rattled off the address.

“.... Uh, I don’t know London that well. Where’s Blackwall?”

Veda rubbed her forehead. “I’ll send a courier. Send a set of nanobots with him?”

“Sure. Oh, I need to talk to Brigadier Marshall, Colonel Grossman of the 6th Bundeswehr Assault Brigade wants orders….”

The next several minutes passed in a blur, as Anne’s bots relayed orders and provided status updates all over the city. Somewhere in between, Corporal Spicer handed her a cup of water.

“You doing okay, Nanocloud?” Windsor asked, walking by.

“Holding up, sir. I don’t remember it being this chaotic.”

“I don’t remember a hundred thousand aliens dropping by my hometown either, so it’s a new day for both of us.”

“Sure, General.”

“Keep at it. You’re doing good work. The SBS is looking for the jammer, hopefully they can blow it up and we’ll have our communications back.”

“Hopefully.”

As Windsor walked off, Anne scanned through her bots to check if there was anything urgent.

The battle in Richmond Park was still under way, with the Carnotaurs playing tag with the ultras. Nothing new there.

Belessar and his party were crossing the Twickenham bridge and would reach the third Carnotaur in about twenty minutes.

The Greater Carnotaur was still snacking, seemingly unconcerned by the thousands of alien soldiers still unloading gear from the ship. Anne counted no less than four Shield Towers to guard the zone… they definitely weren’t taking chances here. Which made nukes pointless, since the Shield Tower would protect the aliens within from any that hit.

Close-attack guns of alien design were festooned all over the park, defending against any short-term breakthrough.

Battles were raging across Hounslow, Osterley, Brentford and Ealing, though the front line of the alien advance seemed to have stalled around Chiswick. To the south, alien troops had reached Wimbledon, but - perhaps wary of stadiums - were proceeding very, very slowly.

While the major elements of the Raptor forces were pushing north from Bushy Park, and the Carnotaurs had headed north-east, there were scattered groups of aliens striking at seemingly random targets across the city. A squad of Grizzeloids had taken over a cake shop in Battersea, several Stealth Rovers had reached Croydon and were in a firefight with the 3rd Armored Division, and tiny knots of Sarnak troopers had slipped through the cracks seemingly everywhere. She kept relaying locations to the officers, and directing troops across the city to counter the aliens.

Somewhere along the line, Cloud Energization had gained a level, and she was now working with 100 kg of bots, but it was still not enough.

Ten thousand kilos might not be enough.

"We lost another Traveler," she overheard Sinclair inform the Brigadier. "Eleventh so far."

"Can we get more? Six aren't enough to cover all the units."

"They're refusing to go, sir. I'm not sure it would help; the aliens seem to have a knack for ambushing them."

The Brigadier shook his head. "Twenty-first century communication conducted via runners…."

"At least we have the nanobots, sir, and more are being spun up."

At least we have that, Anne thought.

The latest batch of bots awoke in the Tower yard, spiralling into containers. Uniformed soldiers with courier badges picked up the containers, raced onto their bikes, and dashed off to various points across the city. It was a lot faster than flying the bots manually.

Getting partial coverage of Tanisport had taken a month; at this rate she might have London covered in an hour.

Assuming they survived the next Roar.

Her nanobots on the walls brushed against something.

For a moment, she had the sensation of solidity… then it was gone.

A masking field.

"Lynxians on the walls," she said. "Lynxians on the walls! Stealthed attackers, here!"

The response was electric.

A dozen officers ran outside, weapons drawn.

Anne frantically ordered her bots to warn the guards. She formed letters in the sky:

INVISIBLE LYNXIAN SOLDIERS ON THE WALLS OF THE TOWER. INTRUDER ALERT.

Someone must have been watching, because the Tower Guards reacted instantly. Squads coalesced into a strange, circular formation, with their backs to each other.

"Can you tag them?" asked Pemberley.

Anne swept her nanobots across the empty spaces on the battlements. Less than a second later, bots smacked into dozens of invisible obstructions.

She slammed more bots into them, trying to disrupt the masking fields.

The Tower Guards opened fire.

With yowls and screams, nearly a hundred Lynxian commandos unmasked.

Plasma fire answered bullets, and the Tower of London was under attack.

A loud crash alerted Anne to a new threat. "Rovers," she gasped. "Stealth Rovers are shooting at the walls."

"Where are they?"

"They just…. unmasked in the middle of the green. At least ten. They're blasting away at the Tower walls now…"

The sound of gunfire echoed through the doors. Pemberley drew her sidearm. "They're inside the Tower."

Anne nodded dumbly.

Windsor sauntered over, seemingly unruffled. "Nanocloud. Good catch, they won't have an easy fight of it now."

She gulped. "Yes, sir."

"All the same, I'd like you to head up to a higher chamber. Better for coordination, and less interruptions. Pemberley, will you take her to Epsilon Four?"

Pemberley saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Take Goldman with you, he's been hanging around and making a nuisance of himself so far."

As Windsor wandered off, Pemberley grabbed Anne's hand. "Upstairs."

The Tower stairs were steep enough, Anne thought, that climbing them in a hurry was a challenge. Colonel Goldman followed them, rifle drawn and alert. "How many floors more to the chamber?"

Pemberley shook her head. "We're going to the roof."

"... won't that be more exposed?"

"Epsilon Four is not a chamber. It's an order to evacuate. Windsor doesn't think the Tower will hold."

"... Wait, what? Are we running away?"

"We're following orders, Nanocloud. That means we need to get you out of here." Pemberley looked her in the eyes. "They could have hit a dozen different places, but they sent their invisible commandos here…. because of you. They want you gone, so the command and control network collapses."

"Which is why," added Goldman softly, "getting you out of here is the highest priority right now. You need to keep communication going. We lose that, we lose."

Anne swallowed.

"There's a helicopter on the roof." Pemberley said, "A Kestrel can take three plus pilot, and I can fly them in a pinch. Keep an eyes out for threats."

"I will."

The chopper blades were whirring when they got to the roof. Grim-faced men with maroon berets stood along the walls, taking shots at the aliens below.

As a soldier showed Anne how to strap in, Pemberley issues a rapid-fire set of instructions. Goldman was scanning the walls attentively, as if a Lynxian might unmask in front of them any second.

A second's warning was all she got.

Shadows shimmered, and three Lynxians unasked on the roof.

Goldman reacted first, hosing the nearest with rapid fire. The bullets slammed into the alien even before he could line up a shot, driving him backwards.

A paratrooper tackled the second Lynxian, knocking him to the ground. The human and alien tussled, each struggling to break the other's grip.

The third Lyxian, however, opened fire.

"GO!" Pemberley roared.

Plasma slammed into the helipad, just as the chopper lifted off.

Anne saw a soldier bodily hurl the injured Lyxian off the wall. Goldman was still firing, this time at the third Lyxian soldier, who had stopped shooting at the chopper and raced for cover instead.

An explosion.

The wrestling duo of paratrooper and alien blew up.

Avi Goldman's rifle clicked empty. He dropped it and charged.

Ramming into the Lynxian, the Colonel let loose with a flurry of blows. His hands scythed through the air in practiced motions, hitting the alien with unexpected power.

Anne had seen Viking fight, raw ultrahuman strength driven by speed and fury. Avi Goldman seems to move almost as fast, delivering deadly blows with an economy of motion, every movement precisely calibrated for maximum damage, breaking bones and shattering teeth.

The alien fought back, trying to bring its weapon to bear, but Goldman didn't give it the chance. Hard-hitting punches slammed into its arms, face and torso, pushing it back. A second later, blood fountained from the Lynxian's throat, as Goldman stabbed out with a hidden bayonet.

"He's fast," Anne gasped.

"He's a black belt," Pemberley smiled. "Unarmed combat champion at twenty-six, and he's only gotten better since then."

Avi Goldman kicked the alien off the roof. From a hundred feet above the Tower, Anne watched the body fall.

Deadly battles still raged across the courtyard, with more and more Lynxians appearing out of thin air and surprising the troops.

The humans seemed to be holding their own, though. Windsor and the general staff were in the courtyard now, their sidearms adding to the weight of fire from the troops. And outside the Tower, tanks had taken up positions and were systematically blowing up the Rovers.

The plasma blast hit Goldman out of nowhere.

Anne saw it as if in slow motion. Heatwaves shimmering, a fourth Lynxian - this one thinner and shorter than the others - faded into view, a glowing plasma rifle in its arms.

Goldman collapsed to the ground.

Grenades slammed into the Lynxian's position, shrapnel shredding through its Armor and skin, and the surviving guards opened fire. The alien was dead before it hit the ground.

"Pilot." Raw pain crackled through Pemberley's voice. "Get us to Twickenham. I want us close to Belessar."