London, 10 Downing Street — morning

  James Whitmore, the British Prime Minister, was a man who had voted for Brexit in the firm belief that Britain would secure "the best deal in history." Ten years after the referendum, when it had emerged that this best deal involved paying entry fees for programmes from which Britain had been excluded, tariffs on goods that had previously flowed freely, and a brain drain to Berlin, Paris and Amsterdam, he was less certain.

  The report from Brussels reached him at seven in the morning. At eight he called the head of MI6. At nine he met with the Defence Secretary.

  "Trident,"

  he said simply.

  Trident was the British nuclear arsenal — ballistic missiles housed aboard Vanguard-class submarines. Scottish bases. American rocket bodies. British warheads. A complex triangle of dependencies in which the "British" independent nuclear force depended on American servicing of the missile bodies and the American GPS guidance system.

  "Trident is being modernised. The Successor programme will cost a hundred billion pounds over ten years. And we still depend on American missiles,"

  said the Defence Secretary.

  "And Galileo?"

  "We were excluded after Brexit. The Netherlands offered us a deal, but the terms were… costly."

  Whitmore stood and went to the map on the wall. Europe. A twenty-seven-member Union that Britain had left in the belief that it could do better alone. A Nordic bloc that was now building something unprecedented. France, which — according to the report — was in negotiations to join.

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  And Britain? Britain stood outside with a Trident that depended on America, and a GPS system that did not belong to Britain.

  "Can we join?"

  The head of MI6 set down his pen.

  "Not as a founding member. That train has left. We could enter as an associate partner — a licensing relationship. Technology they develop, we could use for a fee. But we would have no voice in the nuclear trigger, because we are not in the EU."

  "So we would be paying to be protected by decisions we cannot influence."

  "Essentially, yes, Prime Minister."

  Whitmore was silent for a long moment.

  "And the Lancaster House treaties? Our nuclear cooperation agreement with France?"

  "If France joins the VIP Initiative — and the latest reports suggest that is likely — their Lancaster House commitments will be subordinated to the group's collective trigger. France will no longer be able to act independently. And our safety net disappears."

  Whitmore sat. The window behind him looked out onto Downing Street, where tourists were photographing the closed gate. Brexit had given them control of their borders. It had given them this, too.

  "What do you recommend?"

  "Returning to the EU is not politically possible. Not for this government. But… there is another path. Not immediate. Long-term."

  "Go on."

  "Let Europe build the system. Let them pay for the research. And when it is finished — when it proves itself — we will have an argument for the next generation of British voters, unburdened by Brexit nostalgia. An argument that says: Look what we lost. Look what we can have again."

  Whitmore looked at him for a long time.

  "So we wait."

  "We wait. And we pay licence fees in the meantime. Which is less than we would pay for our own programme."

  The politics of the weak. Whitmore knew it. But the weak must play with the cards they have.

  "Very well. Begin licensing negotiations."