We will never surrender

The twenty-first Century had been the beginning of the end. Pandemic after pandemic circled the globe, it had the effect of decimating the population, but its other effect was to turn country against country. Borders slammed shut, foreigners were jailed with act first ask questions later policies.

The twenty-second Century was when the effects of countries no longer cooperating became apparent. Now we were no longer a global community, we became a world lacking in the resources we had all come to take for granted. Petty arguments between countries escalated until there was war on a global scale, World War 3. Initially, the fighting was state of the art, drone versus drone, remote-controlled war, but gradually all the technology was lost, with no way of rebuilding it. Now the fighting involved a few leftover handheld laser weapons and anything else the soldiers managed to scavenge.

Now in the twenty-third Century, the British Empire was closer to falling than it had ever been before, as the French troops had pushed them North as far as Scotland.

The last hope of the once Great British Empire stood in a row behind Hadrian’s Wall. The First Battalion had been tasked with holding the border while the remaining population tried to survive in the harsh conditions that the Scottish Highlands offered during winter.

The General stood with her Soldiers, and she didn’t know how they could survive the night, as their equipment was falling apart. Between the 100 of them left fighting, they had 10 barely functioning laser rifles, and she knew that the enemy would be better equipped than that.

There were so few of them left she didn’t even have to raise her voice for them to hear.

“We fought them on the seas and oceans, we fought them in the air, we have defended our Island at great cost to us all. We fought them on the Beaches, We fought them on the landing grounds, we fought them in the fields and in the street. Tonight we shall fight them on this hill, and we shall never surrender.” She looked around at the faces she knew so well, knowing in her heart that they were done for, they were not going to see another dawn.

She heard the tell-tale sound of a laser rifle charging before the beam hit a tree next to where they were standing. “Take cover, incoming.”

The remaining members of the 1st Battalion of the British empire immediately threw themselves down behind the wall, using it to block the laser fire.

“Just hold your nerve. They shouldn’t have too much charge left in those lasers before they have to wait for sunrise to recharge them.” She wasn’t quite sure if she was lying for the sake of her troops or for her own sanity. But leaning onto the ground by Hadrian’s wall, she put both her hands onto the rocks that had lain here for millennia and wished for a miracle.

The sound of the laser rifles halted abruptly, only to be replaced by a rhythmic metal clanking that she’d never heard before. She waited for another 30 seconds, and when the laser fire didn’t restart, she risked raising her head over the wall.

“Boss, Boss, what’s happening?”

She just looked down at her second in command and shook her head as she couldn’t actually work out what was happening.

“I don’t know” Where a few minutes ago there had been nothing but fields, there were now hundreds of men wearing some kind of uniform she’d never seen before, she had never seen so many people in one place there must have been thousands.

She watched them as they faced the French, beating rhythmically on their shields, marching forwards with each strike.

The laser fire started again, this time not aiming for the British but aiming for the Legion of soldiers who had appeared out of thin air.

“Clypeus” The shout came from the mysterious soldiers, who, as one unit, made a wall of their shields and continued to advance. She watched in bewilderment as the laser shots ricocheted off the shields. This turned to elation as she saw the soldiers overwhelm the French lines.

“Forwards, everyone attack now.” She was on her feet and leaping over the wall running to help the strange Soldiers, trying to understand what was happening as she ran. She ran past bannermen holding large flags, picturing two-headed eagles over the Roman numeral IX.

The First British Battalion fought side by side with the strangers, pushing the French back. They couldn’t understand each other, but they all appeared to have the same goal: reclaim the British Empire.

The days passed in a blur. The march with the Ninth Roman Legion took them through territory that she thought they would never see again. It took several months, but finally, the last Frenchman was pushed back into the sea at Dover, loading onto the ragged bunch of boats to take them back to their homeland.

She stood watching as the French disappeared into the thick sea mist that rolled over the Channel, then onto the land, blanketing the troops. It damped all the sounds around her until she could no longer hear the metal on metal sound that had grown so familiar while she marched with the Ninth Roman Legion. As rapidly as it had rolled it, the mist cleared.

She looked around, blinking with bewilderment. The only people standing on the beach were the remaining hundred members of the First British Battalion. She sank to her knees, placing her hands in the sand silently, thanking whatever had sent their saviours.