Thursday, June 14, 2018

6/14/18

The Brexit
By David K Scholes


My granddaughter looked out at the vast slag heap beyond the Ionic shield that still protected us all.

“What are those?” Annabelle pointed to a largish formation of small, fast flying objects. She saw them before I did.

“Drone bots,” I replied “Nothing to worry about. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen any hereabouts.”

How strange that all this time after the failure of the Russian Federation there was still the very occasional automated attack against us. Attacks that had been programmed years ago and time delayed. King George may have been right to keep the ion shield in place. Despite the drain on the energy grid.

* * *

“The land you see before you is a part of what was once called Wales,” I told Annabelle. “Once it was even a part of us, part of our, our Kingdom.” I hesitated for a moment wondering if I was committing an offense by the revelation. The teaching of history was reserved now for a very select few. Some parts of our history weren’t taught anymore. I was just fortunate that I had lived the history and knew what really happened.

I had thought about taking Annabelle north in a flyer to see what was once called Scotland. Just as a part of her education. Of slowly, quietly revealing the truth to her but these days Scotland more than closely resembled Wales. A slag heap. Unfortunately the energy grid reserves didn’t extend to them or Northern Ireland. A decision made easier for us when they all left the Union.

Still Annabelle had been old enough to witness the closing of the very last embassy on our soil. An event long overdue coming even after the last of the immigrants had been kicked out. It was the embassy of what we had come to call the Merkelites. A nation group we had twice warred with and beaten. The Merkelites had kicked our asses over the Brexit. They say revenge is a dish best served cold and it was made doubly sweet when not long before our closing their embassy they had begged for our military help against the Chinese.

* * *

As the oldest person still living in Angleland I was old enough to remember the Brexit. The very hard Brexit dished out by an angry, spiteful, vengeful European Union. The worst of all possible deals. A bitter pill to swallow that would have consequences for decades to come.

My mind continued to wander even as Annabelle spoke. I thought of the many free trade deals our once great nation had hoped to secure after the Brexit. One by one – these great promises fell on stony ground. The then still mighty United States under a man whose name has been written out of our histories did not come to our aid as we hoped. Instead they chose a path of isolation quite different from ours. Even our once friends of the Commonwealth of Nations spurned us. Perhaps remembering how we had once spurned them.

* * *

I watched the last of the Russian drone bots strike the Ion shield. Unlike the others it exploded in sub-nuclear fury. “Looks as though some of their weapons are still working,” I said it too quietly for Annabelle to hear.

My mind wandered back into the past again. After the Brexit, Russia, perceiving our weakness and increasing isolation tormented us more than ever.

The penetrating long range bombers testing our depleted air defences, the deathly quiet submarines and grotesque surface warships both defying our shrunken navy even just off our coastline. The almost constant and escalating cyber attacks, Worst of all the robotic drones. Thousands and thousands of them. Fired against us and then forgotten. Some on time delay and some armed with the just sub nuclear micro weapons.

The time came too when the United Kingdom nuclear deterrent – the final generation of Trident type missile submarines broke down. When for long periods we could not maintain even one such boat at sea. Worse, the Russians knew it.

Yet how the mighty had fallen! The modest Russian economy could not sustain such vast defence expenditures and eventually the country imploded in on itself. To the relief of us all. Now the wrecks of their bombers, submarines and surface warships litter our eastern seaboard. We cannot afford to remove them. Not yet.

* * *

Somewhere in our isolation and decline the King and the royal family dissolved the parliament and took over the reins of power again.

Against all predictions it was good for us in ways we could not have imagined. Things essential to our survival, like the Ion shield and the superlative All England fighter had been forced upon us though at considerable dislocation to our economy.

* * *

China has occupied parts of a spent Russia now and invades the broken countries of the former European Union. They are all that stands between us and the world’s only super power.

Here in what is left of our Island we await them.

To get us they will have to overcome our mighty Ion Shield and a few other surprises that lie in store.

It will be interesting.


- - -
The author is a science fiction writer who has written more than 200 short stories. He has written eight collections of short stories and two novellas (all on Amazon). He has been published on the Antipodean SF, Beam Me Up Pod Cast, Farther Stars Than These, 365 Tomorrows, Bewildering Stories, the WiFiles sites and the former Golden Visions magazine. He is currently about half way through a new collection of science fiction short stories.

0 comments:


Help keep Farther Stars alive! Visit our sponsors! :)




- - -

Archive

The Thunderune Network:

TTC

Weirdyear Daily FictionYesteryear Daily FictionClassics that don't suck!Art expressed communally.Von Singer Aether and Steamworks.Resource for spiritual eclectics and independents.Pyrography on reclaimed woodartists featured weeklySmashed Cat MagazineLinguistic ErosionYesteryear Daily Fiction