Free When the Tripods Came by John Christopher

this business will be over in no time. It would make more sense for Ilse to comeback here. If her father’s hung on this long, he’s obviously not dying.”
    They argued for a time, but Martha won. That didn’t surprise me—Martha usually did win that son of argument. And as far as my father was concerned, I felt it was not so much the Trippies that bothered him as Ilse being away. If she came back, it would be as good as us going out there. He said he’d try to get back to her. Martha said it might be a good idea to call the airport first and check seat availability.
    He got through to the airport reservations desk fairly quickly, and I heard him ask the position on flights from Geneva. It seemed a routine conversation, but he put the telephone down abruptly.
    “Well?” Martha asked.
    “Flights to and from Switzerland are suspended.”
    “It’s probably temporary, till things get sorted out.”
    I could see from Pa’s face there was more to it. “The booking clerk said something else as well. Not in any special way, just as a routine remark at the end. He said, ‘Hail the Tripod.’ “
    • • •
    One of the things I didn’t enjoy about sharing a room with Andy was that he woke so early. He didn’t make a big performance about getting up, but, in a way, that was worse—half waking and hearing him moving around quietly, carefully closing the door when he went to the bathroom and opening it even more gently when he came back. I’d been awake in the night, thinking about Tripping and theCaps, and this morning his pussyfooting irritated me more than usual. I was pondering the chances of getting him moved into Martha’s spare room, though without much optimism, when he called, “Laur!”
    He was by the window.
    I said peevishly, “What is it?”
    “Planes.”
    I heard the faint roar and ran across the room. We had a good view, and I saw two fighters sweeping in over the hills beyond Todpole. I forgot being annoyed in the pleasure of looking at them, so fast and beautiful compared with the lumbering Tripod. And they, or planes like them, had smashed the Tripods. What did it matter if a few people were going around in trances, with power like that on our side?
    “Fantastic!” I said.
    “More, over there.”
    He pointed south. A squadron of three were flying towards the first two. Joining up with them, I guessed. I went on thinking that until the rockets started to explode. It didn’t last long. One of the two burst into a blossom of orange and red, and the other roared off to the west with the three attackers banking to pursue it.
    I said in a whisper, “What’s that about?”
    But I knew. All five had been Harriers, with air force markings. Which of the sides was Capped and which free I’d no idea, but one thing was certain: military power was divided now, between them and us.
    The order came in a radio announcement; television had vanished in a welter of jammed transmissions. All free citizens were to take immediate action to help counter the activities of the Capped. This must involve total cooperation with the armed forces and police, who had authority to restore order by any means at their disposal. The situation was difficult, but could be overcome by free men and women fighting in defense of liberty. Meanwhile, the use of all sea and air routes was confined to government-authorized personnel. As far as possible, people should remain in their homes, avoid using motor transport except for emergencies, and listen for official announcements.
    The statement was repeated, and then the frequency our set was tuned to went dead. We found the station again, but it was soon swamped by the grinding buzz of a jammer. The next station we caught was different, with an announcer talking enthusiastically in a Yorkshire accent. Victory for the free people of the world was at hand! All must go forth, prepared to sacrifice everything, their lives if necessary, in the cause. Very soon now we would know the peace