As the bombs fell on Moscow, President Kuznetsov, almost apoplectic with rage, threw caution to the wind and ordered a pre-emptive Nuclear strike on both the British and French nuclear Submarine fleets in Faslane and Brest. Followed by all the Capital Cities of Europe and Britain. Whilst the missiles were in the air, the Russian president used the Hotline to contact his opposite number in the White house. Once connected, Kuznetsov developed a conciliatory tone.
“Hi, James, its Artur here, just thought I’d give you a quick call. There’s a situation developed this end and we’re trying to contain it. We’ve been attacked by the European Alliance and unfortunately, I had to order a retaliatory nuclear strike. Believe me it was unavoidable. So, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that our two great nations can surely remain friends.” He hesitated for a moment, then continued with a veiled warning, “What’s done is done James and I’m sure that you’ll agree with me, when I say that there is no earthly reason why millions of Americans should die as well.” Without waiting for any form of reply, he broke the connection.
Five hours after the destruction of Europe, the four British and French submarines are still at sea, undamaged and fully armed. Unable to pick up any radio chatter from their respective countries, they followed well documented procedure and concluded that both their Mother Countries had been destroyed. The British captains, took the keys that they’d hoped they would never have to use and unlocked the two nested safes in their control rooms. Inside were the launch codes and the Prime Ministers letter of last resort, to be only opened when the normal chain of command has been destroyed. The hand-written letter contained the British governments final instructions on how the nuclear arsenal was to be used. The letter was unequivocal, written in the Prime Ministers own hand, ‘retaliate with nuclear weapons and if you survive, place yourselves and your submarine under the command of the US or Australia.’ The Captain fulfilled the letter’s instructions and ordered an immediate retaliatory strike.
Every large Russian city was destroyed in what was to become known as the tit for tat war. Millions died before sanity was restored. The ancient continent of Europe, west and east, famous for centuries of Art and Music was reduced within hours to a festering wasteland of disease and radiation. Southern Europe, including Greece, Spain and Portugal were relatively unscathed. Italy, although not a Russian target, suffered two accidental strikes.
Two RS-24 Yars missiles carrying MIRV warheads were fired at 1am on the 12th April, by the 39th Guards Rocket Division at Novosibirsk Siberia. Conditions were atrocious, there had been a heavy snowfall that had left the roads almost impassable, blizzard conditions still prevailed, driven by gale force winds.
The two Topol mobile launchers had made their way gingerly down a narrow track in the forest, until they’d both found their designated clearing within the trees. The Colonel in charge, was in a drunken stupor when the order to launch had come through. He was in the lead vehicle, sleeping it off in the back of the driver’s cab, snoring loudly. The responsibility for the launch belonged to the young Captain and the rest of the seven-man crew. They elevated the missiles, set the targeting system, armed the warheads and successfully fired the two missiles.
They made one mistake, one error, that would affect the World, not in their lifetimes, but in generations to come. As the missiles roared into the night sky, the young Captain, sick with worry for his family, realised he’d neglected to download the correct trajectory information. A flight path that would have maintained a height above twenty thousand feet, well clear of any passenger aircraft. He shrugged dismissively, it was too late now he thought, the chances of a collision were small and what the hell, there was a war on.
Flight BTA 635 out of Berlin’s Tegal airport on route to Tokyo Japan had taken off two hours before the war had broken out. Electromagnetic bursts of energy from multiple detonations rendered radio reception almost impossible. What snippets they did pick up told the pilot that Berlin was in ruins, along with all the other cities in Europe. A hurried vote, taken by the passengers and the crew, had confirmed, by a slim majority, that pressing onto Tokyo was the only sensible course. So, the airplane was following its original flight plan and everyone on board was praying for a safe outcome, unfortunately, that was not to be.
Death came instantly to them all, just as they were starting their Breakfast. The two Russian missiles collided with the aircraft with devastating consequences, debris and bodies rained down onto the frozen earth below. The guidance and targeting systems on both missiles were destroyed in the impact, veering from their original programmed destinations within the UK, they both turned southwards towards the Mediterranean Sea. What was left of the two missiles’ on-board computers, burnt out over northern Italy. In their final death throes, each of the two missiles adopted their default position, discharging their multiple warheads over a wide area, causing devastation from as far apart as Rome in the south to Venice in the north.
CHAPTER 2
Sixty years later
“Have you had any more information from the Americans on their plans for the Time Travel launch?” Zhao Yatsen asked the diminutive Ouyang Xiu, chair of the National People’s Congress.
They were working in Yatsen’s Penthouse, above the party’s office complex, near the Emperor’s old palace in busy Beijing City. Yatsen, was a big man in his early fifties, he’d been born and raised in the northern territories, and, like most of his people, he looked more native American than he did Chinese. Small eyes and large hooked nose, sat above a lipless, cruel mouth that seldom smiled. Yatsen had recently clawed his way to the top, and was now the Secretary General of the Politburo Standing Committee, this meant that he was China’s most powerful and dangerous man.
Nothing yet Sir,” Xiu replied, “the selection process for the Pilot is nearly over. One of our people working at the S.A.C’s {Sino American council} building in New York, thinks that they’ve narrowed it down to two. But, at the end of the day, he feels sure that they’ll go with the American female, and not our man.”
“It doesn’t really matter Xiu, I couldn’t care less who goes” said Yatsen irritably, “If the launch is successful, and this incredible experiment proves to be viable, then that’s all we need. With this technology, we’ll be able to change the old-world order, so that China will finally come out on top. Surely, I don’t need to spell it out, do I? You know as well as I do, how much we’ve got riding on this, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do sir,” said Xiu getting to his feet. He was in complete contrast to his leader, short and fat, with a plump round, almost cherubic face. “I’ve overseen every part of this mission myself, I made sure that our hardware contribution was delivered to the launch centre in Germany last month.”
“That’s the nuclear reactor sphere, right?
“yes sir.”
“Well why can’t you say it like it is? Yetsen sounded threatening, “You’ve picked up all this lazy Tech speak from the Americans and it’s getting on my nerves Xiu. Did delivery go ok, no hiccups?
“It all went according to plan sir,” said Xu cheerfully, ignoring the hard knot of fear in his stomach, “we put a team in there some time ago, they’re monitoring progress.”
“Well God help them out there in Berlin,” said Yatsen, “from what I’ve been told its mainly radioactive ash.”
“You’re absolutely right, Secretary General, but after sixty years, I’ve been told that the radiation levels are much more manageable. Besides, they’re all well shielded inside the launch centre. Everything seems to be going smoothly, and I understand that they’re quite confident that they’ll be able to launch within the week.”
“They’d better,” said Yetsen, he got up from behind his desk and walked over to Xin and put his bony hand on the younger man’s fleshy shoulder, he squeezed as hard as he could, gouging with his thumb and fingers into the soft area above the aides Collar bone.
“I do hope you’re taking all this seriously,” he said, leaning close and whispe
ring intimately into Xiu’s ear. The smaller man was squirming with the incredible pain in his shoulder. “I keep hearing words like, ‘smoothly’ and ‘confident’, said Yetsen, almost purring as he continued to torture the younger man,” all that sounds a little bit wishy washy to me, doesn’t it to you Xiu?”
Xiu couldn’t speak for the colossal pain, he felt on the edge of collapse, the sweat was pouring down his face, staining his light blue shirt collar, dark navy. He swallowed hard and nodded vigorously.
“I’m so glad that we agree,” said Yetsen cheerfully, pulling back and releasing his grip on Xiu’s shoulder, “I was told that the Americans have already installed their ‘Chronos’ device inside the sphere. So, everything will be ready for launch on the 11th April, won’t it?”
Yetsen’s cold eyes stared at the little man expectantly.
“Yes sir,” murmured Xiu, eyes downcast.
“Good, I’m glad that’s all sorted out,” said Yetsen. “The other thing I wanted to ask you about, was the camps around the Italian cities, are our people there?”
“They are,” said Xiu, wiping his face with a tissue, “we did it as a joint effort between the Americans and ourselves and it went very well. The tent cities and the Hospitals are all in place. We also airlifted about five hundred stewards and greeters to each venue.”
The leader hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He was a deeply superstitious man, coming from simple farming stock in Shandong province, near the mouth of the Yellow river. His roots had been steeped in the elemental spirits of the countryside, anything that the farmers couldn’t explain away, they described as magical.
“Xiu,” he said carefully, “I know that we’ve discussed this many times over the years, but we’re nearly there now. It’s a strange feeling to know that everything in northern Italy is about to change suddenly. I, for one, am struggling to come to terms with the dead people, the citizens who lived in the cities when they were destroyed, all those men, women and children. Where are they now? What will they be like when they suddenly come back to life?”
Xiu felt frightened, his mind searched for some easy answer that would settle Yetsen’s fears, calm his anxieties. He was only too aware of the leader’s dangerous mood swings.
“All the religious leaders that have been consulted, say that they’ll all just think they’ve been asleep, they’ll probably be a little confused and disorientated when they do come back sir, but that is all the trauma that they’re expected to suffer”
“What a lot of sanctimonious clap-trap.” Snapped Yetsen,” trust an idiot like you to come up with all that garbage, it goes against everything we’ve ever known, or were ever taught as children. Death is final. Thousands of corpses were incinerated in the last war, many more were simply blown to bits. Yet, all these do-good Christians, believe that somehow, all the poor bloody victims, will be magically restored, untroubled and unharmed. You know what Xiu? If I had any kind of religion, or if I believed in some all-seeing, all knowing Deity, then I think I’d be saying that we were all in danger of playing God, badly.”
Yetsen turned on his heel and walked back to his desk, without waiting for any reaction from Xiu. Pulling open the bottom drawer, he took out a bottle of Scotch Whiskey and a glass. Scotland had disappeared long ago, but if you were the Secretary General of China, Whiskey was still available. As he filled the glass, he shouted across at Xiu.
“Just one more question, then you can clear off. Have you heard anything from the people that you’re in contact with in New York about our proposition to the council to clean up the Russian Federation. I mean it’s a complete cesspit of Radiation and disease, we’d be doing everyone a favour if we just saw to it all. If this Time Travel goes to plan, the Americans will want Europe, so it’s only fair if we get Russia.
“I’ve heard nothing back from New York yet sir. I suppose they won’t make any final decisions until they find out if the mission is successful.”
“I know that,” snapped Yetsen dangerously, “do you think that I’m stupid?”
“No sir, I didn’t mean that sir.” Xin was terrified.
“I just wondered if there were any rumours wandering the corridors,” said Yetsen feeling somewhat mollified, taking a large gulp from the glass in his hand before he continued. “If as planned, we can re-generate Russia city by city, the big question will be, what do we do with all the people that come back with their cities. Will they be classed as Russian or will they be Chinese?”
• • •
The Sikorsky UH60 Black Hawk banked to the right, Piper glanced out of the window, into the night. Laid out below her was post war Germany, devoid of life and light, just endless stretches of irradiated blackness.
She was sitting huddled on a narrow canvas seat, cold and tired, her gloved hands thrust deep into the pockets of her service overcoat. Piper was feeling exhausted, it had been a long, drawn out, twenty-four hours since she’d arrived in Naples on a night flight from Hong Kong. By the time she’d been through de-briefing at the base, there’d been no time to catch up on much needed sleep, now, sitting beneath the Helicopters throbbing rotors, any chances of taking a nap, seemed a long way away.
Now, in her mid-twenties, Captain Piper Reed was a woman who turned heads, she was tall, slim, yet not boyish, light skinned African American on her father’s side. Blessed with high cheekbones, large, deceptively soft, brown eyes and a generous mouth that lit up her face when she smiled.
Her Grandparents on her mother’s side were white German, or as they preferred to be called ‘Berliners’. They were enjoying a Skiing holiday in Colorado when the Russian European war broke out in the Spring of 2020. Marooned in America, they accepted the chance to settle and begin a new life in their adopted homeland.
Piper’s Mother, Greta, had been born ten years later and grew up in America, where she met and married Benjamin Reed, in the Autumn of 2053. In due course, Greta became pregnant, giving birth to Piper in the summer of 2055.
Her childhood was difficult, soured by her mother’s alcoholism and her father’s violent temper. They lived in South Side Chicago, an area where they moved around a lot, everything they owned was carried in the trunk of their old Chevy. They Rented furnished properties when Piper’s dad was in work, when the work dried up, they moved on, usually in the middle of the night.
One evening, on her fifth birthday, Piper lay in her bed, trembling with fear, listening to her Mother as she screamed for her life in the next room. Eventually, when silence fell, she slipped from her bed, wiping away the tears with her sleeve, pulling open the bedroom door, she stepped out into the light.
Her mother lay unconscious on the floor, a gash on her head, bleeding into the carpet. There was no sign of her Father, he’d gone, Piper would never see him again. The rest of the night she spent sitting on the floor, holding her Mother’s hand. Then, when Greta finally surfaced from her alcohol induced collapse, she pushed Piper away and crawled to the settee, where she pulled a bottle out from under one of the cushions and took a swig. Piper dragged a bucket and cloth from the back step to clean up the blood. Her Mother watched her without comment, until she vomited and passed out again.
As the weeks went by, Greta’s life descended into an alcoholic fog. Piper was left alone most nights, until the Bars closed, then she was subjected to a procession of her mother’s foul-mouthed boyfriends.
There were more rows on the doorstep as the neighbours complained and the Bailiffs chased unpaid rent. Piper started to learn how to stand her ground in the street, face up to the bully’s, ignore the sniggering taunts of ‘your Mother’s a whore’. The deep hurt, shame and misery she felt didn’t show. She kept it all inside, along with the feeling of helpless horror at her situation in life.
Six long miserable months passed, until one evening, the Police, who were regular visitors, turned up with a Bailiff and a Social worker and took Piper from her mother and placed her in care. When she left her home with all her belongings in a plastic carrier bag, her M
other turned her back, lit a cigarette and stared at the wall until Piper quietly closed the door behind her.
The Authorities in charge of her care, contacted Piper’s Grandparents, who hadn’t seen her, or been in touch with her, since she’d been born. Initially they refused to have any contact with her at all, refusing to even discuss the possibility of bringing her up. It was only later, after a generous financial package had been offered to them, that they reluctantly agreed to take the child.
She was raised in Lawrenceville, a small town on the banks of the Delaware river, near the city of Trenton, New Jersey. Her Grandparents were authoritarian and constantly resentful of her presence. They spoke only German in the house and insisted that Piper did likewise, the little girl surprised her sullen Grandparents with the speed with which she learnt. Piper loved no one and no one loved Piper, her life was difficult, awkward and sometimes painful. So, when at home, she learnt to be self-sufficient, independent and spoke only when spoken to. The unhappy little girl who had taught herself German in the seclusion of her bedroom, had also learnt to stoically bide her time. She realised, with a maturity beyond her years, that one day she would put all this behind her and become the master of her own destiny.
Piper’s mother had never bothered to send her to school, so when she moved in with her Grandparents and the authorities enrolled her, the experience came as a revelation. To her delight, she found it to be a place of wonder, structured, ordered and safe, a place where she felt that she had found sanctuary. Science and Maths were her forté, they were disciplined and ordered subjects, without ambiguity, a safe refuge from her previous life of chaos. Although she was unloved and ignored at home, her teachers recognised her talents and cherished her.
Though Academically gifted, Piper also loved sport, running free in Track and Field, her long legs breaking school records. Despite her Grandparents churlish complaints about all the cups and Trophies. She continued to compete, the roar of the crowd made her feel alive and worthwhile, winning became important. There was no social life for her outside of school, no dressing up and going out, no visiting friends, no sleepovers or parties. Her Grandparents supplied her with her clothes for school, but the washing and ironing were her responsibility. Nobody was welcome at her house, birthdays were sad, loveless affairs and she spent most of her time in her room reading.
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