The brigadier went to the screen and brought up the other side of it.
"Britain," he said. "Conventional capability."
He went through it the way someone reads out the weather before a storm. There were aircraft, fast jets and transport. There were warships, submarines, armoured formations, artillery, drones. There was a professional army many times the size of the Defence Forces, with a great deal of experience.
"And I want to say something to the guild end of the table," he said, turning. "With respect. I've watched your streams. I know what some of you can do. But please don't anybody walk out of this room thinking that a handful of very powerful Challengers can stop a modern military on their own. You can't be in two places at once. You can't see a missile coming from two hundred kilometres away. You can't stop artillery you can't reach. You'll matter enormously. You won't win it by yourselves."
Marcus nodded, as if he had expected that and agreed with it.
