Cabinet War Rooms - London, England
8:00 PM - Sunday, September 8, 1985
Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher sat in the central seat in the meeting room in the Cabinet War Rooms beneath Whitehalll, in a chair that had once been used by former Prime Minister Winston Churchill, whom she strove to emulate. Just last year, she and Churchill's family had opened the restored rooms to the public as a museum, but it was closed at night. Nobody was there now - aside from her, her advisors, and their guards. It had been over forty years since the room had been used for its original purpose. She had ridden the secret elevator down from her home in Number 10 Downing Street. As far as people would know, this meeting had never taken place.
"Colonel Bambera has arrived," announced a guard, opening the door from the hall.
"Good, send her in," said the Prime Minister, rising to her feet. The guard stood aside and allowed a tall black woman with short hair in a military dress uniform to enter, closing the door after her.
"Colonel Winifred Bambera, UNIT UK, reporting as ordered!" she said, sketching a perfect salute.
Mrs. Thatcher saluted back. "As you were, Colonel. Please, come sit by me." She motioned to the empty seat on her right hand. The colonel walked around the table towards it, and the Iron Lady shook her hand. "I'm pleased you could join us, Colonel."
"It's Brigadier Crichton who should be here."
"Brigadier Crichton has been reassigned. As of this moment, you are Acting Commanding Officer of UNIT UK - a position that shall shortly be made permanent."
"Thank you, ma'am! You honor me, but I'm only a colonel."
"A fact which will soon be rectified. I will personally present you with your stars after this meeting concludes." The two women sat down. "Now that we are all present, we can get down to business. You've all read the Sea Devils' terms. It is Her Majesty's Government's position that we must accept them."
Bambera looked shocked. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I...I respect your decision, but this sticks in my craw. With proper preparation, with tanks and artillery and precision bombing, we could wipe out their beachhead."
"I'm sure you could succeed where your predecessor has failed and push them back into the sea, Colonel. But then what? I don't like it any more than you do, but we have to deal with the reality of the situation. What UNIT found in Dunwich is only what lies on the surface. There is much that we cannot see hiding beneath. The threat to British shipping is very real. We cannot endure a blockade for more than a handful of years. We put an end to rationing just over thirty years ago, and I will not be the Prime Minister who brings it back."
"Understood, ma'am."
Discussion continued among all those present for another ten minutes before the guard returned. "Madam Prime Minister, the...our guest has arrived," he reported, swallowing his disgust.
"Show her in," said the Prime Minister.
The guard once more stepped out of the way and allowed Y'Hali to enter. She was so tall that she had to duck to avoid hitting her head or the golden tiara atop it on the lintel. Several of the assembled people shuddered at her presence. She declined the proffered seat, choosing instead to remain standing and gain a psychological height advantage - one which Mrs. Thatcher could not equal even had she stood. "Prime Minister Thatcher, have you come to a decision regarding our terms?" she asked.
"There are merely a number of issues of contention remaining, High Priestess Y'Hali."
"We have already made it clear that our terms are not open for negotiation. You will either accept them in total, or you will reject them - and live with the consequences."
"I understand that. We would simply like some clarifications."
"Very well, what requires further explanation?"
"First, the prisoner exchange. You have named all of the prisoners you admit to having in your custody, but there are numerous names missing from the list."
"No doubt they were killed in action by Rover and consumed. There would be no remains in such a case."
Colonel Bambera raised her hand. "What about the traitor Webb?" she asked. "We want him back as well, but he's not on your list."
"Mr. Webb married my daughter Victoria yesterday and is now one of my people - and my family. If you read the terms, you'll see that as long as he remains in Dunwich or in our waters, you cannot touch him."
Bambera frowned, but she did not object further.
"Who is this Y'thrai you demand in exchange?" asked the Prime Minister.
"Do not play coy with me. We know that you have abducted him from Dunwich a few days past. We know this from the prisoners we've taken. We insist upon his return. One of ours in exchange for all of yours. I think that is more than equitable."
The Prime Minister glanced over at the colonel. "It's true, Prime Minister," said Bambera. "UNIT does hold one of the Sea Devils in our custody."
"Then he shall be exchanged," said Prime Minister Thatcher, returning her attention to Y'Hali.
"Do not use that term 'Sea Devils,'" said Y'Hali. "That is your name for us, but we find it offensive. We are the Deep Ones. Remember that. What other clarifications do you require?"
"We have compiled a detailed list. There are thirty-six more-"
"Do not seek to drag these discussions out. We may live forever, but there are limits to our patience. I came here with the understanding that I would receive an answer to our demands. I swam here from Dunwich and up the Thames in the dead of night, through your disgusting sewers and into these underground tunnels. I understand the need for secrecy, which is why we have respected your wishes in that regard. But if you refuse our just demands, or if you seek to delay the proceedings, the world will know who the Deep Ones are - know, and tremble at the mention of our name. Your Royal Navy is but a shadow of its former self, due to the fact that you have mothballed much of your fleet because of your reliance on nuclear weapons, which are useless to you in this situation. Even if the Royal Navy were what it was forty years ago, it would not save you. Your two vessels that attacked us and are now lying at the bottom of the sea are proof of that. Britain is an island and cannot possibly feed itself. You require food from overseas, and we have the power to keep it from you. There are many more of us than there are of you. You will fare far worse should you wage war on us a second time. Now, what brief clarifications do you require before you give us your response?"
"The duration of the peace treaty is another issue of concern. It is not specified."
"The treaty will last until it is violated, at which time it will be null and void. And we will not be the first to break it."
"I see. And who shall adjudicate the treaty and decide whether or not a violation has occurred? Surely the United Nations-"
"Cannot help but be biased. It was United Nations forces that attacked us. And if United Nations forces such as UNIT wage war upon us from British soil or waters again, Britain shall be held to account for it. There is no neutral third party that can arbitrate in this matter. The injured party will be the one to decide if the treaty has been broken."
"Then this treaty is not worth the paper it is written on."
"Then no treaty is. No matter how many layers of indirection you use, ultimately each party will do as it sees fit in any international agreement. That is where diplomacy comes into play. You and I are both intelligent females, the leaders of our respective peoples. We both seek peaceful coexistence. We will not abrogate the treaty over a trivial matter, and if you do so, it shall be at your peril. I believe this discussion has gone on long enough. Is it to be war, or peace?"
Margaret Thatcher sighed. "Peace it is. Her Majesty's Government agrees to your conditions."
"You have chosen wisely." Y'Hali reached across the conference table and clasped the prime minister's hand with her slimy claw, shaking it. "I shall return to Dunwich and tell my people. Good evening, Prime Minister." She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
"What have I done?" wondered the Iron Lady aloud.
"You have brought us peace, Madam Prime Minister," said Viscount Whitelaw, her deputy.
"Peace for our time? And how long shall that be?" She had tried to be like Churchill, but at the moment she felt more like Chamberlain.
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Title music by
RON GRAINER and
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"THE BROTHERHOOD OF DEATH"
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Title music by
RON GRAINER and
BBC RADIOPHONIC
WORKSHOP
Designer
MR. HANDY
Producer
MR. HANDY
Directed by
MR. HANDY
Next Episode
"THE BROTHERHOOD OF DEATH"