Puissance: Chapter Ten
Title: Puissance: Chapter Ten
Author: ArthurMerlin
Artist: blood_songs90
Pairings/characters: Arthur/Merlin (minor: OC/OC, Gwen/Lancelot)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 30,798
Warnings: None
Summary:The turbulent times of Prime Minister Arthur Pendragon, in which war looms, betrayal waits in the wings, and unexpected love blossoms.
Disclaimer: Neither ArthurMerlin nor blood_songs90 owns any aspect of Merlin. No copyright infringement is intended.
.............................................................................................................................................................................................
Chapter Ten
This couldn’t be happening, Arthur thought, Russian forces were actually invading Europe! They had swept up from Turkey, and Arthur’s sources in the Kremlin suggested that they would soon be launching a second ‘pincer’ from the north through Prussia.
All Arthur could think about was getting Merlin home; if the attacks into Austria and Prussia were pincers, then Bavaria would be the place they would meet. Everything else seemed to fade into the background; he had even phoned the French Emperor personally to ask for French fighter escorts to guide the royal flight back over French airspace until British fighters could bring them safely home.
“Any news on the royal flight?” Arthur asked the room of advisors and military officers he was stood in the middle of.
“They’re just touching down in Munich,” an RAF officer answered, not taking his eyes from the screen he was watching.
“Have them refuel and take off again immediately,” Arthur ordered, “I want them back in Heathrow before 3 o’clock.”
“That’ll be difficult, sir,” a civil servant replied, “King Johan is King of Bavaria, we can’t order him to return to Britain, here he is only…”
“If the King heard you speaking like that you wouldn’t last five minutes in the service!” Arthur shouted at the girl, “I don’t want to hear anything from you except ‘yes, Prime Minister’, understood?!”
“Yes, Prime Minister,” she said, scuttling off.
Arthur regretted his outburst almost immediately, but didn’t retract it. The staff knew he was agitated, and his feelings at the moment kept them on their toes. The situation was developing by the minute; the Russians were wasting no time moving their armies up into Europe, completely surprising everybody. The West’s reactions had been sluggish at best, and Arthur suspected now that they had played right into Russia’s hands.
Lance walked up to Arthur and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. The PM shrugged it off and walked out of the room. He couldn’t bear to be around Lance anymore; the feelings of betrayal were still too raw. Nobody had confirmed it, but it seemed clear that Gwen had left him for Lance. They had been gracious enough to keep themselves out of the public spotlight, so as to keep media attention away from themselves. And Arthur had been so busy with other matters that there never seemed to be a convenient time to talk about it.
Lance had also tried to resign from the government, but Arthur had refused to accept the resignation. Lance was, after all, a superb Deputy PM and a masterful politician. But, more than that, accepting it would have been further cause for media speculation; something Arthur wanted to avoid at all costs.
It wasn’t losing Gwen that was troubling Arthur the most at the moment, though, it was the thought of losing Merlin as well; the only real friend he had left. The thought alone was like a lead weight settling into his stomach. Logically he knew that everything would be fine; Russian forces were hours away from Bavaria, and everything possible would be done to ensure the safety of King Johan; and if the King would be safe, so would Merlin.
Arthur tried to turn his thoughts to what would inevitably have to happen next. If the Bavarian government declared war on Russia, or if Russian forces invaded Bavaria itself, Britain would have no choice but to declare war on Russia in defence of an ally. Percival had already been round to explain the military preparations that he had put in place. The fleet anchored off Cyprus was to sale up to Istanbul and take control of those waters, effectively forcing Russian forces up and around the Black Sea rather than across the straits.
Of course, the Palace had been on the phone as well; King Edward wanting constant updates on Johan’s welfare.
“Gaius,” Arthur called to the elderly man, “is there still no response from Moscow?”
“None,” he shook his head and came to stand next to Arthur, “Mordred wants this war, Arthur.”
Gaius looked as if he had aged ten years over the last month, and Arthur was beginning to feel slightly worried about him. He didn’t say anything, but discreetly had other people take on some of his duties.
“I’m worried about Merlin,” Arthur confessed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly.
Gaius’ shoulders slumped and he nodded slightly, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. They both cared about Merlin and hated having him in the line of fire.
The room was suddenly flooded with a red light, and the naval officers went into a flurry of frantic movement.
“Prime Minister, Russian aircraft have launched an attack on our Cyprus fleet,” Admiral Green reported, and turned immediately to issue orders to his subordinates.
“Defend the fleet, Admiral,” Arthur said, “use whatever force you deem necessary.”
The Admiral nodded and continued ordering other officers. Live images of the battle were displayed on the large central monitor at the front of the room, along with various tactical displays. Arthur watched as the various Destroyers in the fleet manoeuvred to cover the other ships, all the while firing anti-aircraft cannons and launching ship-to-air missiles. The smoke that the ships emitted from the missiles obscured much of the picture, but Arthur could still make out the tiny shapes of the Russian jets flying in and out of shot.
Arthur couldn’t help a little cheer as he saw one of the Russian planes explode in a flash, but his relief was shortlived, as the magazine on the frigate HMS Somerset was hit by a Russian missile; the entire ship exploded in an instant, sending debris everywhere, causing damage to the nearby HMS Iron Duke.
“How many crew on board the Somerset?” Arthur asked.
“185,” Admiral Green replied sadly.
“Sir, we have a squadron of Eurofighters scrambling from the RAF base,” Air Chief Marshal Torrington-Smith announced with a quick salute to Arthur.
The battle raged for another five minutes; the fleet suffered no further losses, save minor damage on a few of the Destroyers, whereas they were shooting down nearly every Russian plane that flew into their airspace.
Arthur’s good mood disappeared as he realised something; “this is too easy.”
“Yes, the Russian Bear will think twice before trifling with us again!” Torrington-Smith laughed as a Eurofighter brought down another MiG.
“No, I mean this really is too easy,” Arthur said, rushing over to the nearest computer console, “this is a diversion, it has to be.”
Arthur’s eyes scanned the satellite images of Russia’s new frontiers; trying to figure out where they might be planning to strike.
“We’ve seen it before time and time again; Mordred strikes somewhere, and uses it as cover to strike somewhere else at the same time.”
Arthur couldn’t find anywhere where the Russian troops could feasibly be moving towards. He dropped his head and groaned in frustration, and it was then that he saw it. Egypt.
The Egyptian fleet was in striking distance of Cyprus.
“Admiral!” Arthur shouted, running across the room to where Admiral Young was receiving a report from a Commodore, “move the frigates to screen the southern approach to the island.”
Admiral Young looked perplexed, “but, sir, the enemy is attacking from the north-east; if we move the frigates to the south, we’ll lose 20% of our anti-air cover, the destroyers won’t be able to cope.”
“The real threat will come from the south, please Admiral, do as I say,” Arthur insisted.
“As you wish, Prime Minister.”
Arthur watched as the frigates manoeuvred from their largely central position in the fleet, to bracketing around the southern side of the destroyers. It was just in time, for moments later the radar on HMS Kent detected approaching vessels from the south.
A fierce ship-to-ship battle ensued between the Royal Navy’s fleet and the approaching Egyptian navy. Russian aircraft continued to fly sorties from Turkish soil, keeping the destroyers largely occupied.
HMS Iron Duke and HMS Lancaster were soon severely damaged in crossfire. Arthur ordered the Eurofighters to target solely the Russian jets, allowing the destroyers to switch roles and provide support for the frigates. Nevertheless, it was clear that the battle was swinging against the British.
Arthur reluctantly issued the order to retreat, and Cypriot base personnel were rushed onto HMS Ocean and HMS Bulwark. The destroyers covered the retreating fleet as they headed west away from Cyprus, towards Gibraltar.
Eurofighters escorted several Sea King helicopters inland to Nicosia, and airlifted the senior members of the Turkish government to the retreating HMS Bulwark. When they were safely aboard, and it was confirmed that the Egyptian fleet was not pursuing, Arthur let out the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.
It was a humiliating defeat, but would have been much worse had the Egyptians been able to achieve full surprise as they had evidently intended. Arthur thanked God he’d been able to see that threat before it emerged fully; otherwise no British ships would have been able to escape.
...
Chapter Eleven