[b]London, Cabinet War Rooms[/b]

Clement shifted uneasily in his chair, as his gut continued to churn with anxiety, disbelief and despair. 

"Poison, no question of it," Sir John Dill grunted. He was met by a few lolling murmurs from the rest of the war. His hasty appointment as caretaker Defence Minister was a natural choice, though in the context of the situation, no one had summoned the thinking space to really care either way. They were all shaken to the core by the unexpected demise of their energetic leader; Winston Churchill. "What kind of poison, we're not sure yet, but-"

"What does it matter?" Lord Halifax spat. "The man is dead. The nation's rock has fallen into the sea. We can't tell them. We have to hide this from public view, there's no question."

Arthur Greenwood coughed as he lit himself another cigarette. "Agreed. As far as the nation is concerned, Churchill survived an attempt on his life."

"The truth will get out," John said resignedly. "Better to tell them now, than for us to be known as shameless liars." 

Clement sighed. "No, the news would smash the morale of the common people. Of the army. If Hitler can reach the highest level of government, then who is safe? The message it would send will be catastrophic. We must hide this, for as long as possible." 

Arthur nodded approvingly, as did Lord Halifax. 

"Then it is settled. In the meantime, we need to throw the spotlight off recent events. We need a victory," Clement said, his limbs feeling light with the unreality of it all. "We need to give the people something to cheer at. If we go on like this, Churchill's absence will be noted sooner rather than later." 

John stood, and strolled over to the operations map. The members of the War Ministry eyed it with disdain, as they took note of Greece's recent recolouring. "The Germans want Crete, and they want it now. Our boys over at Bletchley inform me that their only real means of acquiring the island is by the air, and early reports of the battle are indicating that this is proving disastrous for them."

"Can we hold it?" Clement asked, grasping at the one straw left in the basket.

"Perhaps. We'll need to divert troops from North Africa to be sure, but we're already suffering man and material shortages there as it is. If we move men from the African continent, we might find ourselves falling from the frying pan and into the fire, as so to speak," John replied, stroking his chin in thought. "Our only real option is to ensure the island's airfields aren't lost, and that the men we already have there can hold them with what they have."

"Shell them," Lord Halifax interrupted. "Can't we shell them with the Navy?" 

John shrugged. "If we destroy them, they'll be of little use to us. The island will be worthless, until we can repair them. The battle will lose all strategical significance."

"But it'll lessen the likelihood of a German victory, and that gentlemen, is what we need," Clement grunted, taking a stand. "Whether the Navy does it, or our lads on the ground do it themselves, we need those airfields taken out of the equation." 

Murmurs of approval sounded from the other members of the War Ministry - except from John, who quietly shook his head. 

"Then let's get to it," Lord Halifax said. "All in favour, raise your hands."