The Boss straightened up, faintly surprised. ‘Good morning. Can I help you?’
‘Oh good, you’re all here. Yes, you can all help. I need condoms, please. As many as possible.’
We stared at her.
She said, sharply, ‘Now, please, if you would be so good.’
We stared at her.
‘I know at least some of you must have some and I need as many as I can get.’
We stared at her.
Peterson jerked himself back to reality. ‘Um …I think there are machines in the …’
‘I have all those,’ she said, jerking her head in the direction of Jenny and her box. ‘I need more. These may not be enough.’
We stared at her.
You would not believe the pictures cartwheeling through my mind.
After a long moment, Dieter pulled out his wallet and tossed two onto the table. ‘Two,’ he said.
Peterson grinned. ‘I’ll see your two and raise you one,’ laid down three, appeared to be struck by a sudden thought and snatched two back. Mrs Mack glared at him and he reluctantly let them go again.
Markham rummaged endlessly through pockets and wallet and produced a great handful. A great, multi-coloured, ribbed handful. ‘Way to go, Mr Markham,’ said Peterson in admiration.
After a brief pause that actually seemed to go on for quite a long time, the Boss laid down two. A more than respectful silence fell. Nobody caught anybody’s eye. Mrs Mack departed.
I heard the Boss murmur, ‘I sometimes wonder what goes on in that kitchen,’ and we continued with the briefing.
Saying goodbye to the pods was hard for everyone. They were to jump to our remote site, the location of which was a closely guarded secret. The Boss tried to make Dr Dowson go with them, ostensibly because he was our archivist but also because he was nearly seventy. He refused to leave, and in the end, the Boss relented.
The whole unit assembled in Hawking. I stood on the gantry with the rest of St Mary’s and watched them disappear, silently, one by one, taking my memories with them. Eventually, the vast hangar was empty. Dieter looked as if he’d lost his entire family, which, I suppose, he had. Polly Perkins was in tears. I wondered whether I would ever see them again. Whether any of us would ever see them again.
We were divided into teams.
I was in Markham’s team, along with Professor Rapson and Dr Dowson (presumably so we could argue the enemy to death), Peterson, and Mrs Partridge. Our position was at the foot of the stairs. From there, we could cover the entrance to the long corridor to Hawking, and the front doors.
Weller, Evans, and Clerk covered our rear from the half landing. Major Guthrie’s teams were ranged around the gallery. Dieter’s team was stationed outside Hawking. Helen was covering Sick Bay and the civilian staff were deployed around the building as reserves.
Everything was locked, shuttered, bolted, barred, barricaded, booby-trapped, and anything else we could think of. Unless they brought heavy explosives, the only ways in were through Hawking or the main entrance, and we reckoned they wouldn’t want to risk damaging Hawking, so the main door was where we were concentrated.
‘Remember,’ said Guthrie, at our briefing, ‘you are only responsible for your particular area. Be aware of what goes on around you, but if you look around, you will see each team is covered by the others. Check your range and designated target areas. Fire only along your lines of sight. Don’t go waving your weapons around from left to right. Trust your colleagues on either side of you. Trust those behind you.’
We spent hours on the ranges. At first, it was chaos and we were in more danger standing behind some of our volunteers than in front of them, but it settled down. We didn’t go for anything fancy – just aim for the centre of the body and pull the trigger. Single shots. Those of us with more experience did our best to pass it on. We held drills, stripping down weapons and re-assembling them with our eyes shut. Ditto re-loading. Mrs Partridge was our designated re-loader. She was quick, clean, and dexterous. I felt reassured, knowing she would be nearby.
Gradually, it began to gel. A feeling of optimism was encouraged, although I could see this wasn’t shared by Guthrie, or Markham, or anyone with any sort of combat experience. We were on our own. We would be pitted against better-armed, ruthless, professional troops who had already demonstrated their complete disregard for anything or anyone who got in their way. We were going to die.
But we’re St Mary’s and we weren’t dead yet.
I sat on the stairs, looking down into the Hall. It had been another long day. Night had fallen. Only a few lights burned. Guards were posted and most people were getting their heads down. The slightest sound echoed eerily around the empty building.