Magestic 2, p.114
Magestic 2, page 114
‘What ... what nation sends these soldiers here?’
‘They are black Africa soldiers, under my guidance.’
‘African?’
‘In the future, Africa is peaceful and prosperous, Mister Ambassador.’
‘The Brotherhood are spread far, small groups, terrorists who set off bombs. Conventional soldiers do not fare well against them, as we have learnt from observing the Germans.’
‘And why, might I ask, did you not fight alongside your German brothers?’ Jimmy posed.
The Ambassador seemed guarded, taking a moment. ‘My country is a long way from Europe, difficult supply lines.’
‘Of course,’ Jimmy mockingly agreed.
‘And we have our own problems to deal with.’
‘Of course,’ Jimmy repeated. ‘But you’ll find that my soldiers are not conventional, and so far they have lost few men, perhaps a hundred thousand Arab fighters killed. We aim to clear northern Europe of fighters in four weeks.’
‘And ... then?’
‘And then we’ll hand the original country of Germany back to its rightful owners. A deal has been struck.’
‘A deal? What ... deal, might I ask?’
‘We’ll help the Germans to re-take Europe, and in return the German Chancellor will arrange free and fair elections in several smaller European nations within a year.’
‘We were not aware of that detail. Thank you for ... bringing it to our attention.’
‘I hope I haven’t said too much,’ Jimmy said with a false smile.
‘Not at all, we have good relations with Europe.’
‘As I was led to believe,’ Jimmy said with false civility.
‘And your soldiers in Africa?’
‘Will remove The Brotherhood, and then attack into the Middle East and North Africa.’
‘A ... very ambitious task,’ the Ambassador delicately mentioned.
‘Not for us.’
‘And when the fighting is over?’
‘Then I will control and run Africa as my private domain, till such time as free and fair elections can be held. And, you may not yet have heard, but the Americans will open a second front in Africa within days.’
‘The Americans will commit to the fight the Arabs? They have sworn publicly never to do such a thing.’
‘I’ve made them aware of substantial oil deposits in Africa.’
The Ambassador eased back in his chair, slowly nodding to himself. ‘I see.’
‘Those deposits are on the west coast of Africa. There’s also oil on the east coast, which I could help you with.’
‘And in return for that oil?’
‘I might like you to give up a few islands, and return to your original borders over say ... the next ten years. I’d also supply you with metal ore, and I would expect your government to sit down and negotiate with myself and the Americans. Peace negotiations.’
‘We are at war with Communist China, Mister Silo. Such a move back from islands, or any reduction in our military budget, would not be on the table.’
‘I could deal with the communists for you. Would those items then be back on the table?’
‘How would you ... deal with the communists?’
‘Advanced weapons from the future. Do they have aircraft that can reach Japan?’
The Ambassador nodded, just once.
‘Then I could provide you with advanced defences. Once installed, no aircraft would reach your shores. I can also disable all of their aircraft on the ground, and any missiles. Would that ... be of interest to your leaders?’
‘I am sure that it would ... be of interest, once demonstrated and proven.’
Big Paul laughed, but then controlled it. Jimmy faced him, ‘Our Japanese friends are rightfully sceptical. So, we’ll arrange a ... demonstration or two.’ He faced the Ambassador. ‘I aim to bring peace to this world, Mister Ambassador, but there are obviously those on this world who will resist, those military leaders that have grown used to their uniforms and the war games, and will not wish to see an end to things as they are. There are also those who wish to see peace, but their kind of peace, and there are those that simply wish to live, that life currently in jeopardy. Never forget, Mister Ambassador, that I wish peace, not a world where one nation dominates all others. Do you follow me, Ambassador?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Then, as a sign of good will, I shall start attacking communist air bases within days, and I shall prevent any Chinese aircraft from reaching your shores. I will, however, stop your aircraft from reaching their shores as well. Is that not ... fair, Ambassador?’
‘I will have to consult with my government.’
‘Please do so, we can meet again soon, and I will be organising a peace conference here in a few days. Kindly ask your government to send a high-level negotiating team as soon as possible.’
At forty thousand feet above the White House, a drone dropped what might appear to be a small toy aircraft. It nosed down, small control surfaces employed, and picked up speed. Forty minutes later it sat in a tree at the edge of the White House grounds, its laser microphone targeting twelve windows at once, conversations recorded, microwave bursts sent to its lofty colleague at regular intervals.
1938, London
Jimmy had been gone a day, and I would be coordinating things from London for a few days. British paratroopers had landed en masse west of Berlin, little resistance met, a few shot and killed on landing by die-hard fanatics, a few injured from the mechanics of the landing itself. Those British paratroopers had then been joined just before dawn by a hurriedly assembled group of American paratroopers, some of those soldiers learning the use of chute only after it had opened. Gliders landed just after dawn, regular American infantry soon to be seen in the pleasant German countryside as September appeared on the wall calendars.
Meanwhile, the modern US Marines had jammed all radio signals in Germany, both civil broadcasts and those few remaining military broadcasts. A British officer, who spoke perfect German, was then press-ganged, and now began to broadcast the news, our version of the news, claiming that Berlin had been taken, that British forces had crossed the border with France – which they had just about, and that further British units had entered Germany from Denmark – the accuracy of that move stretched by a few miles.
British ships had, however, docked in Northern Germany overnight, and British soldiers were occupying several port areas, moving outwards. That fact was reported, along with news of the American Brigade creeping along the German/Swiss border. The suggestion that former SS officers were being rounded up probably did nothing other than to warn-off those officers still at large, making them disappear into the German populace.
All that day, advancing units - as well as the Kenyan Rifles in the Alps, reported white flags in the windows of German houses, the civil population keen to avoid being shot at. It was all over bar the signing, but there was no one willing to put their heads above the parapet and admit that they were in charge. Or particularly wished to be held accountable.
Churchill made a speech and claimed victory, and for all intents and purposes he was probably correct. Knowing what Jimmy had in mind regarding post-war politics, I rounded up as many transports as I could and flew US troops into Germany in the broad daylight, the majority towards Berlin.
That evening, as I arrived at No.10 for a meeting, reports were coming in about a Japanese offer to surrender, with terms, but still not unconditionally. Churchill claimed a second victory, the church bells sounding out around Britain that evening.
‘So, it’s all over?’ I said as I met Churchill and his command staff in a smoke-filled room on street level. A dozen officers stood about, their smiles a contrast to earlier meetings, the relief evident.
‘All over, Mister Holton, all over, and a new chapter in the annals of this great nation’s fighting history.’
‘Yeah, well don’t forget that you had a little help,’ I teased.
‘Never, Mister Holton, never!’
‘Do you have enough troops to occupy Germany?’ I asked.
‘We’re even sending the cooks - and the band,’ Churchill remarked with a grin.
‘Perhaps you could say a few words towards the French forces, and those still fighting over there. Ask them to all stop fighting, unless fired upon.’
‘I shall, since we shall need many a sturdy German to rebuild the country.’
‘We did damage a few cities. You have a plan? A reconstruction plan?’
‘I could not admit to possessing that plan as yet.’
‘Then I’ll help, since the quicker you can rebuild Germany, the quicker you can improve the economies of Europe – and your own position within Europe. Perhaps, you could upset generations of Germans across time and space by suggesting a commercial and political union amongst European nations, as a way to avoid future conflicts.’
‘A union of nations?’ Churchill puzzled.
‘It’s inevitable, but will be suggested by the Germans and French in fifteen years or so. As an industrial block, you’d go some way to rivalling America. It even ends up with a common currency, although Britain never gives up the pound.’
‘A common currency by God,’ Churchill let out.
‘It’ll help to counter-balance any future threat from Russia as well. It’s odd really, but on our world the Russians fought in the war, and occupied the east of Germany at the end of the war. Because they wouldn’t leave, it led to tensions for sixty years.’
‘Then we shall consider ourselves fortunate not to be in such a position.’
‘Did you get the money?’
‘Indeed yes, and we are in your debt, literally. We shall repay it as soon as is practical.’
‘No hurry,’ I assured our wartime leader. My phone went, and I listened to Ngomo Junior for a minute. ‘If Lobster wants more men, then fine – send them. Everyone else can be sent to Africa in 1984 or rotated out. I don’t want any modern-era African Rifles wandering around this world, just US Marines. Oh, the Kenyan and Congolese Rifles from this era, bring them back to Africa as soon as possible. Thanks.’
Rejoining Churchill and his team, he noted, ‘There are now a great many of these futuristic American soldiers around Berlin. What do you see ... as their role?’
‘As soon as is practical, I see them going home. But first, I might fly them all here, for a thank-you parade.’
‘A parade?’
‘Yes, so that the people can thank those brave American boys.’ I held my fixed stare on him.
‘Indeed, yes,’ he said after a moment. ‘We would not wish history to think us ungrateful hosts and allies.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. And to help you to rebuild Germany I’ll be bringing in medics from the future, especially to treat burns victims.’
Churchill lit a cigar, blowing out a fragrant pawl. ‘And what do you see as ... the interaction and participation ... of people from the future in our historical development?’
‘I see us watching you very carefully, and guiding you every step of the way, just in case history is repeated and mistakes are made. Some leaders, less capable than yourself, may allow themselves to be ... caught up in the moment, and may forget what really happened. Such leaders would be moved aside and retired off, just in case they make a poor decision about future development.
‘You see, Mister Churchill, it’s about saving lives, the lives of the next generation. It’s not about anyone’s ego, or their right to govern.’ I moved closer, almost whispering. ‘And if you knew what challenges the world faced in the next eighty years, you’d never sleep soundly again.’
He nodded slowly to himself. ‘But don’t deny us a pleasant few weeks of celebration, even if we do get ahead of ourselves. The people deserve that.’
I smiled in agreement. ‘That they do. Then we’ll talk about Africa, post-war politics, and significantly boosting the British economy.’
‘And the empire?’ he delicately broached.
‘Will change from stripes to spots, but still be a zebra.’
‘I hear that these fine soldiers from Nepal are returning home from Hong Kong.’
I nodded. ‘They are. They’ll all be dismissed with a year’s pay, and those wishing to can re-enlist after three months, but to a smaller unit.’
‘And the Canadian Rifles?’
‘Will go on, but as a smaller unit. And they’ll be needed in the years ahead, trust me.’
‘And your fine African Rifles?’
‘Will grow in size, and be used to run our empire in Africa, to police the streets and the borders, and to make Africa as safe as Hyde Park. Don’t forget what Jimmy told you: you’ve won the military war, now win the economic war.’
‘And what of this world where it is, apparently, 1984?’ Churchill enquired.
‘Be good for you to visit, to see what your future might have been like.’
‘How so?’
‘On that world, Germany and Japan won the war, and they’re all nuclear armed, sat poised to use their bombs. The Arab fighters seem to have sacked most of Europe, and the communists took China and Russia, intent on dominating that world.’
Churchill blew out a grey pawl, tipping his head back. ‘And what does Jimmy hope to achieve in the midst of such chaos?’
‘He hopes to sort them out. And if anyone can do it, he can.’
‘But he will return to us?’
I nodded. ‘He’s planning on going back and forth, but you’ll have the benefit of my charm and wit for a few years to come.’
‘I would not be without your candour,’ Churchill boomed. ‘If only the wretched members of the house here spoke with such honesty.’
‘Don’t worry, not even in 2047 do the politicians tell the truth.’
Churchill laughed. ‘It’s nice to know that some things never change.’
‘It’s a universal constant. No one should be allowed to be a politician if they apply for the job, on the grounds of a lack of qualification – and sense.’
1984
Lobster sat in a tent with two other officers, just outside the buildings housing the German portal, west of Berlin. A sergeant with headgear and visual displays now controlled an aerial drone, the small aircraft now approaching Holy Loch Submarine Yard, Western Scotland, as darkness fell.
Lobster and the other officers scanned the thermal images of the dockyards, focusing on a submarine enclosed by a metal housing, dozens of men now attending it, their thermal outlines fuzzy. Bursts of light caught their attention.
‘Welding,’ Lobster noted. ‘And a missile ready to be loaded.’ He zoomed in on the sub being worked on, the drone now positioned a mile away, its altimeter showing two thousand feet. ‘There. Sergeant, target that gas cylinder with the EM Sparker, narrow beam, and fire when ready.’
‘Sir, that won’t work,’ an officer called. ‘Look, there are two cylinders, so one is oxygen, one gas to burn.’
Lobster stared at the images. ‘Sergeant, we want the oxygen cylinder, so target them in turn and see what happens.’
‘Yes, sir. Target acquired, locked into the fire controls, waiting for the drone to stabilise, stand by ... stand by ... firing.’
After two seconds a bright flash filled the screen.
‘It was fifty-fifty, so no bonus for you, Sergeant.’
‘Slave driver,’ came back, casing a chuckle.
‘There’s a small fire, looks like cables on fire,’ an officer noted. ‘Look, they’re evacuating.’
‘Good, give them a minute or two, we want the fire reported,’ Lobster suggested.
Two minutes later, Lobster said, ‘Sergeant, you see the missile they were loading, the thing that looks like a giant vibrator?’ The men chuckled like teenagers.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Try and hit the fuel tanks with a cutting laser. Fire when ready.’
‘Targeting, target acquired, locked into the computer, mid-section ... stabilising the drone, firing.’ They waited. ‘Re-targeting.’
‘Sergeant, you’re pants!’ an officer whispered.
‘Firing again.’
The flash filled their screens, everyone zooming out to get a view of the dockyard.
‘That’s a big fire.’
‘They’ll need a new shed.’
‘Will the sub be damaged?’
‘They say, that if a warhead cooks for a few minutes, there’s a chance it’ll go off,’ Lobster commented. ‘So, let it cook for three minutes – hard boiled. Sergeant, max power, get the drone to six thousand feet, three miles out, and over the water – just in case.’
‘Hard boiled submarine,’ someone commented.
‘Sir, there’s radio traffic, they’re ... reporting the fire to London.’
‘Excellent,’ Lobster approved. Two minutes later, he said, ‘Sergeant, target the top of the missile with the EM Sparker. We may get lucky.’
‘We’re at maximum range, sir.’
‘There’s no-one left there to notice if you miss!’ Lobster firmly pointed out. ‘So take your best shot.’
‘Targeting, target acquired and locked, selecting Sparker, charging ready ... fully charged, firing.’
They waited. Four seconds later their screens went blank.
‘Contact lost with drone, sir.’
‘Boom,’ Lobster slowly let out. ‘We just set off a nuke, gentlemen.’ Lobster straightened. ‘Population within ten miles?’
‘Less than three thousand, sir,’ the sergeant reported. ‘Just a thousand houses picked up on thermal as the drone circled the area, maybe ... three people per house.’
‘It was an isolated valley,’ someone commented.
‘Drone is issuing a burst recall message,’ the sergeant reported. ‘It’s coming home to papa on auto-pilot.’
Jimmy lower his phone, then walked down stairs. ‘I need to see the President and the Joint Chiefs immediately,’ he told the team leader of the Secret Service assigned to him.
Fifteen minutes later the men gathered in the Oval Office, three Generals arriving so far. Jimmy reported, ‘Mister President, fifteen minutes ago my people picked up the EM signature of a nuclear blast, the blast originating in Western Scotland.’
