Despite all this, she blossomed at school, was a popular girl and made friends easily, a natural leader, resourceful and old beyond her years.
Nobody who knew Piper was surprised, when in 2071 she won a scholarship to Princeton. Specialising in Quantum Physics, she eventually graduated top of her year.
She had always had her sights fixed on astronautics and engineering, primarily outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. This would involve both the Chinese and American Space programs and hopefully a chance at the first Mars shot.
After leaving University, she said a brief and joyless goodbye to her Grandparents and joined the US Airforce officer training scheme. In 2076, she was head hunted into the Space Program, then seconded, with her full agreement, into the top-secret Time Travel Project.
She was the 12th and final member of a carefully selected team. Each candidate was aware that it was a knock out process of selection. Only one person would go forward for the mission.
They were all transported to a top-secret base near Hong Kong. It was Spartan and intense, closed environment training with both Chinese and American Special Forces. There was no contact with the outside world. Letters could be written to family, but they were highly censored.
The team’s ability to withstand high G forces were tested day after day. Repetitive water submersible tests and high-altitude acclimatisation were endured. Intensive unarmed combat training and small arms practise took place at all times of the day and sometimes through the night. Many of the trainees became too exhausted, others were ill and hospitalised. In the end, Piper won through, her performance in all the disciplines was rated as outstanding.
There was no praise, awards or congratulations, she was moved to a different wing of the building the following day and began a rigorous two-week intensive training course on the Nuclear Sphere or Pod as it was sometimes called. This was the vehicle that would carry her backwards, through time.
• • •
“Nearly there, Piper,” Lt Colonel Phillips was sat behind her on the Helicopter, he’d leant forward, shouting in her ear.
She turned and looked out of the window again, this time there was a pale sliver of moon in the sky, then below her, a tiny oasis of light appeared out of the dreary darkness.
“It’s the launch site Piper, the Berlin-Tempelhof regeneration control. This is where you get your name in the history books, what you’ve struggled and studied for all these years, your Rainbows end.”
She felt his hand rest briefly on her shoulder. Looking around the passenger bay, she couldn’t help but smile. Three Chinese officers and three American, all part of the SAC joint approach to this project.
Piper, had constantly been made aware, that both the Chinese and American governments had invested a vast amount of time, resources and money into her training. So, it came as no surprise that they’d sent six high ranking bodyguards to deliver her to the launch team. She shrugged, putting them out of her mind as she tried to focus on the mission ahead, her part in this audacious undertaking was now crystal clear.
Hong Kong had done their job well, she’d been thoroughly coached in all the minutia of the mission and felt quite confident that whatever problem was thrown at her, she would be able to handle it blindfolded. The reality was so close now, the butterflies were turning summersaults in her stomach. The years of struggle suddenly seemed worthwhile, the hard knocks, early mornings, late nights, pushing herself to be the best and all the heartache in-between, had brought her to this point in time. She was here now, she’d done it, achieved her dream and beaten the field, it was the 9th April 2077 and tomorrow she, Piper Reed, would change the world.
The Sikorsky made a bumpy landing on the concrete Helipad, a brisk crosswind filled the night air with dust and ash, obscuring the brightly lit launch site. A detachment of armed Marines was lined up, each side of the tarmac pathway that led to the Launch centre. They were not an honour guard. Piper noticed they were combat ready, looking nervous and tense, their M16 assault rifles held across their chests. A bank of mobile searchlights pierced the black night, constantly moving across the desolate landscape. There was a growing feeling of anxiety within the Helicopter as they waited for the word to dis-embark.
Piper looked over her shoulder at Lt Colonel Phillips sat behind her.
“What’s the delay sir? Is there something I should know?”
She put her right hand beneath her coat and released the safety strap on the Glock G20 that she always carried in a shoulder holster.
“I don’t think it’s anything specific Piper,” he replied, “we’d have heard something on the way in. I do know that they’ve been having some trouble with the indigenous population lately. Perhaps it’s flared up again.”
Piper was genuinely surprised. She’d thought that these irradiated Badlands were barren. Unable to support any kind of life.
“Indigenous population?” She blurted, “what in God’s name could survive in this Hell hole?”
“Molers,” said Phillips,” that’s the name they’ve been given. They seem human, but they live below ground in an elaborate network of tunnels called the ‘Burrows’. Thriving, small communities, hollowed out of the earth, quite sophisticated in some respects.”
“Are they dangerous?” Asked Piper, those Marines out there look ready for trouble.”
“Nobody really knows, all they seem to want, is to be left alone, I don’t think anyone’s bothered to have a proper dialogue with them. It’s our fault that the situation seems this tense, we made some bad decisions early on, which meant that we got off on the wrong foot with them. It started when we began to build the launch centre, you see the Molers operate best in the dark, their night vision is incredible. But like Moths to a flame, they’re attracted to any bright light. So, you can imagine, when the lights were turned on. We got quite a gathering.”
“Have they been changed with the radiation? Is this going to be a different branch of Humanity? Or is it something they’ve had to do to adapt and survive?”
“You know Piper, I think it’s a bit of both. Anyway, when a group of them turned up one night, looking in through the windows, the Marines took it the wrong way.”
“Why? Were they armed?”
“No, but they all dress the same and it looks a bit weird. I’ve seen photographs, they wear Hoodies, always covering their heads, round swimming goggles over their eyes and their mouths covered with a scarf.”
“So, what happened, did the Marines freak out?”
“You could say that, for some reason, they thought they looked hostile and represented a threat. From there, it went from bad to worse, they got a bit trigger happy and without provocation, opened fire. The end result, was that three of the Molers were killed and two others were wounded, that, of course, was when the trouble started.”
Piper was feeling a bit nervous, “What sort of trouble?”
“Since the shooting, it seems that the Molers have taken three of our Marines.”
“When you say ‘taken’ Sir, do you mean murdered?”
“Nobody really knows, they were there one minute, then gone the next, vanished, we’ve never found a body, so we presume that they’re kidnapped. The ground literally opened up beneath them and they vanished into the Burrows, that leaves the rest of the marines feel really nervous when they’re outside.”
Piper’s curiosity was aroused about these strange, mysterious people, she wanted to know more.
“Are these Molers just in this vicinity, around Berlin?”
“Good God no. There’s been a few scientific studies carried out on what’s left of Europe since the war. The Australians and Canadians have done quite a lot of work with Hunter Gatherer gangs that wander the wasteland. They found that these groups have gone feral, scratching a living here and there above the ground. Stripped of the thin veneer of civilisation, there is compelling evidence to suggest that some of the groups have reverted to cannibalism. But the dominant group of survivors are the Molers, a vast warre
n of all ethnicities, operating underground within a quite sophisticated community that moves throughout the Continent.”
He’d just finished speaking, when the Helicopter, without any warning, suddenly pitched to the right, a rotor plunged into the earth like a sword, then snapped. The floor of the aircraft, along with the concrete Helipad, leaned drunkenly, at a forty-five-degree angle.
“Get out now Captain, move it”
Lt Colonel Phillips was behind her, shouting, a hint of panic in his voice, he was fully aware of what an expensive resource Piper had become, to lose her now would mean the end of his career. He positioned himself beneath her and began to push her up the incline towards the door above. She was laid flat on her stomach, trying to take some of the weight off him, by dragging herself forward with the, bolted down, seat legs.
It was absolute chaos; the other passengers were falling on top of her and rolling down the incline. One of the Chinese Officers decided to use her as a ladder, without any thought for the pain he was causing, he jammed both his feet into her shoulders, as he attempted to open the door. Angry and in pain, Piper arched her back and punched him as hard as she could in his genitals. He fell over backwards, holding himself in agony and screaming like a child.
The Helicopter moved again, lurching back to the left, almost righting itself as the concrete Helipad slipped from underneath it and disappeared into the black earth. In one fluid motion, Piper snapped open the door and leapt upwards toward the rim of the hole, managing to dig her fingers into the soft soil and hang on precariously.
A pair of hands grasped her wrists, it was one of the many Marines that were stood around the land slip, he dragged her out of the hole and onto her knees at the side of the pit. She looked back down, as the remaining Helicopter rotors snapped like pistol shots and the aircraft sank lower. The passengers were shouting, some were screaming, as Piper watched helplessly. Finally, The Helicopter disappeared, and the sides of the hole collapsed in on themselves, burying all trace.
CHAPTER 3
President Clara Powell was pacing the carpet in Bernard Kowolski’s office. Her Secretary of State was trying to calm her down, racking his brains to remember what he did last time she was so tense.
“Well, what are we telling the people?” Clara growled, she was a small wiry woman, full of nervous energy and a brilliant mind. In her mid-sixties, her piercing blue eyes peered out at the world from behind steel rimmed glasses. “We’re feeding them garbage aren’t we, that’s what we always do isn’t it? Then, when we’ve finished, we have the moral turpitude to turn around ask them to swallow it. There’s one thing that the elected Government in this country has never been able to do, and that is trust the American people with the truth, hells bells, if we ever told the electorate that, they would think that we’d all gone insane. Talking about insanity, what about the Democrats on Capitol Hill, are we really sure that they’re going to toe the line?”
Bernie was sat on the edge of his desk, he picked up a chair and pushed it towards her.
“Come and sit-down Clara, calm yourself.”
They both went back a long way. Bernie and Clara had both been Senators together, back in the mists of time. There’d even been rumours of a brief romantic liaison, long before Clara had been noticed by the Party and picked out for high office.
“We’ve been through all this before,” Bernie continued, “It was decided at the time, that the best way to sell this crazy scheme was to tell the public that we’re re-building the area, it’s not the truth, but it’s pretty near.”
“But that’s just what I’m saying, we’re playing the public for fools,” Clara ignored the offer of the chair, “no one’s going to fall for that. The South Americans are going to be the first to smell a rat. They’re mad keen to get the Pope back into Rome, but even they won’t expect it to be overnight.”
“Why should they mind, they’re getting what they want.”
Clara lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
“Right then,” she said, waving at him with the two fingers that held the cigarette,” tell me this, how do we explain away the fact that they will suddenly have two Popes, the one they’ve got now, and then the other one that got blown to bits sixty years ago, the Primate of Italy, who has suddenly and miraculously come back to life?”
Bernie turned on his heel, looking out of his window, across the White House lawn. He couldn’t think of anything that he could say, that would reassure his old friend.
Clara stood looking at his back.
“There is another problem Bernie. I know we’ve been through all this in council so many times. But what about the Chinese? They’re so excited, they can’t wait for this so called ‘Pilot Scheme’ in Italy. But it’s not for the Italians benefit is it, the Chinese couldn’t care less about Italy. That Yatsen has his own agenda.”
Bernie turned and looked at her, “You mean Russia?”
“Well yes, of course I do,” Clara ran her hand through her short grey hair, “that’s always been the Elephant in the room. Russia’s been a basket case since the end of the war. There’s no organised government, just local Militias squabbling with one another. If it wasn’t for the food drops we and the Chinese make all year round and the N. G. O’s with their field Hospitals, there’d be thousands more die, than do already.
“But why would the Chinese want to take on all that chaos by themselves?” Bernie asked. “In our case, there are a few good, solid reasons why we’re tackling the Italian problem first. We’ve managed to establish beyond any reasonable doubt that this was the only nuclear strike of the war, that was a genuine mistake. It’s also seems to be the simplest set of nuclear explosions to reverse and finally, it happens to be one of the western world’s major centres of Christianity. But the thought of tackling Russia would be a nightmare, I’ve heard our experts refer to it as the ‘Humpty Dumpty’ scenario.”
“I couldn’t agree more Bernie, but I’ve seen the intelligence from our best people on what the Chinese are planning.” Clara paused, “Hell, I bet you’ve seen it as well?”
Bernie nodded.
“They’re desperate to claim at least half of the country for themselves. They believe they could perform a slow, calculated ‘re-generation’, that would suit them down to the ground.”
“How’s that possible?” Asked Bernie
“God knows, but you know as well as I do, that they’re probably working on it right now.”
“They must have given some thought as to what they’ll do with all the Russian people that will be brought back to life Clara? You know as well as I do, they’ll all need food, water and Medical care, not to mention temporary accommodation. Do you think that the Chinese have really thought this through? The best Medical and Scientific minds that we have, insist that every event will re-constitute each of the cities indigenous population in an instant.”
Clara raised her eyes, “re-constitute, what a word, it always makes me think of eating a Pot Noodle. Everyone shy’s away from using the word ‘resurrect’,” she looked Bernie in the eye, “because that’s what we’re doing.”
“Now don’t get over dramatic Clara, we’re not talking about the end of the World here, we’re simply changing the fabric of time a little. I know that it’s all new and nobody’s ever done it before, but I’ve talked to a lot of people about this and they all say it’ll be fine, trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Can you hear yourself Bernie? I’ve never heard so much crap in my whole life, do you really believe that at the end of the day there’ll be no consequences? You’re a ‘maker and shaker’ aren’t you Bernie? You’re a member of that select club known as ‘the wise and good’,” said Clara sarcastically, “you’re honestly telling me, that after all these years, you’ve not learned anything from all those times that you’ve tried to change this sad old world? You expect me to believe, that unlike me, you’ve never realised that whatever you try and do, there’s always a price to pay.”
Ber
nie looked down at his desk, moving some papers around, putting them into neat piles
“Look at me Bernie,” she continued, remorselessly, “we’re playing about with forces that we don’t really understand. It’s supreme arrogance to think that we can just change time, to suit ourselves, whenever we feel like it. What divine conceit gives us the right to resurrect people, Bernie? Has anyone taken the trouble to ask the dead how they feel about it? The more that I think about all this and the closer it gets, then the more frightened I’m starting to feel.”
• • •
Piper got to her feet, looking at the Marine who’d saved her, his name tag read Peters.
“Where’s the commanding officer soldier,” she asked, “we can’t just leave it like this, we’ve got to get down there, do something to try and save them.”
Peters didn’t say a word, he simply pointed to a bank of searchlights over by the Launch Centre, the light was bright, but by shading her eyes, Piper could just make out the figure of a man, dressed in the uniform of a Colonel, she could hear him shouting orders into a mobile as she ran towards him.
“Captain Piper Reed reporting sir,” she said saluting.
Colonel Jake Liderman turned, his face expressionless, he was a mountain of a man, shaved head, large features with wide grey eyes, biceps bulging beneath his uniform, the phone looked like a toy in his huge hand. In one of those strange moments, that sometimes happen in stressful situations, Piper became absorbed by the size of his ears, they were huge, sticking out at right angles to his head
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