by Geoff Wolak
The French, with strong ties in the region, sent a delegation to Lobster, and wished to know his intentions. Lobster amazed them by stating that he would retain control of Rwanda through an economic union, and could he hire French companies to build airports? The French had a team back with Lobster in three days, a massive contract awarded to a French construction company, gold handed over. Five regional airports were commissioned for East Congo, improvements made to airfields in Rwanda, several bridges commissioned, two hydro-electric projects started.
True to form, but a year early, Uganda’s Idi Amin invaded northern Tanzania, making use of the demise of the Rwandan Government to mask the attack. Lobster could see the movement, but he waited, allowing the war to get started.
In the weeks that followed the Ugandans made modest gains, and Lobster called in the CIA, the British and the French, delicately asking what he should do about the Uganda aggressors. The British – the old colonial masters in Uganda – obviously suggested that Lobster side with Tanzania, and attack Uganda, offering additional arms at great prices. The CIA were not that interested, the French suggesting that if Lobster attacked Uganda they would not have a particular issue with the move – and cheekily asked about new airports in Uganda after such a war.
Lobster launched his attack a few days later, a night attack by Mi24s, and he hit the Ugandan Army where it hurt - in their supply lines heading to the front with Tanzania. The Rifles, seasoned NCOs from the future - leading recruits with four or five years of hard training behind them, massacred the Ugandans, who soon believed that their capital would fall. Idi Amin flew off to Saudi Arabia as Rifles reached the outskirts of Kampala, and it was all over.
The Tanzanians, who were never in any danger of being overrun, attacked north and wiped out retreating Ugandan units in disarray, meeting the Rifles for a friendly hug and a cup of tea on the roadside. But Lobster’s men did not withdraw, they took Kampala, many of the former Ugandan cronies remaining there being killed, a new President-in-waiting already sat waiting. Lobster issued a message to the world’s media, that any Asian or foreign business that had lost land, property or money could now return – and make a claim. Lobster was winning friends in many places.
The new President of Uganda joined his colleague in Rwanda and entered into an economic union with East Congo, a union that included military and police integration, something never having been witnessed before on this planet – let alone in Africa. The police colleges and army bases received instructors, manuals and guidelines, better equipment and better food, and the reputedly barbaric warlord from East Congo had a great many western observers scratching their heads.
Six months later, and with a little nudge, Kinshasa itself joined the union, a few of those opposed to the move suffering heart attacks. Kinshasa would now toe the line as far as the police, the military, and the courts were concerned. Kinshasa also received money, and the road into the interior started to improve. Lobster had been working on that road west for many years, and in the future it would be an important highway. He was also developing a certain train line heading southwest towards Angola.
Unfortunately, Angola hosted active UNITA rebels at this time, and right now the Russians were nudging UNITA to be right unfriendly to just about everyone. Lobster called in the CIA, now on first name terms with the local section chief, and suggested that he could deal with UNITA. The CIA were delighted, and offered more second hand kit for sale.
Six months after quelling Uganda, small units of Rifles infiltrated Angola, and UNITA rebels started to disappear at night. There were no staged battles, no wrecked armour on the sides of roads, just fewer UNITA rebels seen walking around of a warm afternoon.
In 1979, Lobster protested to the Zambian government about MLF attacks, and even protested to the UN. Speech made, Lobster sent in the Rifles, and seized a large part of northern Zambia. By this time the Zambians were well aware of the strength of their northern neighbour, and knew that a fight would be a poor option. They agreed to annex the land and share revenue, as well as enter into an economic union – if Lobster offered enough money. Lobster delivered ten tonnes of gold bars to Lusaka, and the Zambians all blinked, the accord signed, French airport builders called in to make a few regional airfields.
East Congo had now been recognised at the UN, and had friends in Europe and America, who puzzled over orphanages with a hundred thousand kids in, doctors having been hired from The West. Lobster made the news often, this odd warlord turned politician who ran orphanages and created economic unions.
In 1981, in a bloodless coup, Lobster annexed the other nation often referred to as ‘Congo’, the Central African Republic. Lobster then turned his attentions towards Liberia, that troublesome failed state, and in 1982 he sat down with the CIA to talk. In a repeat of Jimmy’s move, Lobster would quell the bandits, the US Marines landing to claim the glory.
In the weeks that followed, Lobster’s spies entered Liberia and started to kill rebels. When the US Marines were a day away, the Rifles made their move, a night action that killed twenty thousand men – as well as the idiot dictator in his palace, the man stoned on cocaine at the time. The Marines landed, condemned by Russia, and secured the capital, the Rifles chasing down rebels in the hinterland.
Six weeks passed, and US Marines were seen to be welcomed as liberators to Liberia, and thanked by Lobster’s men dressed like locals. A president was selected by Lobster, blessed by the CIA, and put on the throne, an economic union entered into with East Congo, by now known as The Central African Union. Gold arrived, ships of food docked in Monrovia, and police colleges were started.
UNITA, meanwhile, had simply vanished, and infighting was blamed, few bodies ever found. Lobster’s rail line would now be extended towards the coast, a slow and plodding task.
In East Congo, the Rifles now mustered just under a hundred thousand men in varying stages of training. Many had been at it for eight years, and were excellent fighting men, all injected. The youth programme was vast, sixty thousand eighteen year olds under training, all having been injected.
Sierra Leone was next door to Liberia, and so the new president of Liberia called for assistance when rebels came across the border, all fifty of them. Eight thousand Rifles returned the favour, and massacred any adult male carrying a weapon in a six week campaign. With a pistol stuck up his nose, the President of Sierra Leone agreed an economic union, gold soon arriving by ship.
With Sierra Leone quelled, Lobster ticked a box on his list, and turned to his next task. He doubled the number of youths in training, bases expanded in Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda and Liberia. From the Russians he bought two hundred thousand AK47s, and several ships full of ammo. From the Americans he bought second hand Hueys, and now dated Huey Cobras, plenty of ammo and spares, teaching Rifles recruits how to fly. An additional sixty Mi24s had been procured without the CIA noticing, twenty Puma helicopters bought from the French openly, and dated Hercules transports from the British and Americans.
For 1983, Lobster’s tick-list suggested a greater tie-up with Tanzania. Lobster commissioned Tanzanian companies to build rail track and improve roads, a massive project, and Lobster was now selling oil around the region – used to influence the various governments. With rights won to drill for oil in Tanzania, Lobster wasted a year deliberately drilling dry areas. He was awarded rights to drill in Kenya, and struck oil near Mawlini, but those wells were attacked by Somali bandits within weeks, bandits operating out of Ethiopia and opposed to the existing American-backed Somali regime.
Lobster offered to patrol the Kenyan border with Somalia, but was firmly nudged by several governments to attack the rebels in northwest Somalia, the Americans having backed and supported the existing Somali regime in recent years. On the pretext of protecting his oil interests, Lobster moved over ten thousand men, the Kenyan border soon secured. To appease the Kenyans, Somalis were rounded up and shipped out, back to their own country.
Lobster had anticipated just such a move, and only
relocated the Somalis to a point just across the border from Mawlini, where huge camps grew in the desert. The Somalis were fed, they had medical care, and no one could complain. The young men, fourteen to twenty years old, were grabbed, and put into training whether they liked it or not. Fortunately, most liked it.
A year after striking oil, Lobster launched an all-out attack into southwest Ethiopia, January 1984, and made good progress against regular Ethiopian units. He ignored the towns - but surrounded them, fighters and soldiers alike killed when they ventured out. His Rifles went in by night and killed anyone with a weapon, setting traps during the day.
Within a week the country was cut into sections, but not secured. And there Lobster withdrew, having killed the Somali opposition fighters based in the country - and seriously weakened the Ethiopian Army. In a move sanctioned by the White House, Rifles moved into Somalia and set-up bases, the existing regime propped up, gold arriving in Mogadishu by ship.
From 1985 onwards, Lobster dug up as much ore as he could, found as many diamonds as was possible, and mined as much gold as he could, all the while buying weapons and hiding them. He was not interested in aircraft, nukes, or sophisticated equipment, he was preparing for a low-tech conflict.
Kenya accepted military training guidance, as did Tanzania – since it was free, and new Rifles units soon evolved from their regular army units. Those regulars were hardly worth a damn, but once injected the soldiers improved, the best selected for the Rifles – and for advanced training. Discipline was an issue, many men suffering ‘accidents’.
That training went on round the clock, and reached a peak in 1986, every suitable man being trained to use a weapon. Then, in January, 1986, Lobster hired many ocean-going cargo ships, the ships arriving in west African ports for February, 1986.
On the fourth of February, 1986, a Russian radar operator made a mistake, as one had done in my time line. In my time he had called his boss, who had looked out of the window and decided that he was still alive – and had not been nuked. This time, however, the regional commanding officer, seeing the blips and tracks on his screen – the result of a software error, fired his missiles under a protocol that allowed such launches if contact with Moscow was lost. As the first few missiles were launched, Moscow called, and asked a stunned officer what he was doing.
It was too late.
America responded, and Lobster and his men sat watching the news, many heads in hands, a few rude words uttered.
Twenty-four hours later it was all over. Thousands of missiles had streaked across the skies, from silos and from subs, a few long range bombers getting through. The world as it had been … was no more. TV channels went off air, the economies of Africa crashing in an instant – at least the banking and paper economies.
Lobster’s people made ready, and broadcast far and wide around his economic region by radio and television. They appealed for calm as soldiers and police moved onto the streets to stop looting. The various countries involved in the economic group were told to cancel all foreign debt, something a bit obvious, and to trade amongst themselves – and that all would be well.
The two-part chemical process to convert coal to oil was brought online, the various refining plants having been built over the last twelve months in secret. Oil was offered to many African nations at a great rate, and Lobster would even take paper currency.
The skies over Africa darkened on occasion, and Lobster wondered about a nuclear winter, sure that there wouldn’t be one; Jimmy knew this time line. When it rained, the radiation spiked and people fell ill, injections hurriedly given, but six months after the war that problem seemed to ease. Lobster readied a new tick list.
Soldiers were transported towards the west coast by bus and by truck, by train, and even by Hercules aircraft, idle cargo ships boarded. A few tourists were picked up along the way, a handful of Americans and Canadians, and offered safe passage home, something of a shock to the weary travellers, their safaris having been extended a little too long. Most were in tattered clothes, and all were in need of a bath, grateful of the help the Rifles kindly offered.
Around the coast of Africa, the once-idle cargo ships were now occupied, supplies taken on board, and eight months after the war the ships finally set sail. They made their way down the west coast of Africa, across the South Atlantic through storms and around The Cape, few other vessels spotted on the high seas, little radio traffic on the airwaves. The ships made their way up the coast of South America, and grouped near the Galapagos Islands, a tanker topping up those ships that needed extra fuel.
The next leg of their journey had been planned by Jimmy, who knew that Vancouver and Seattle had been nuked in this time line. The ships sailed up the Gulf of California, Mexican waters, and landed on Mexican soil at Puerto Penasco. There, the soldiers met a few armed locals and police, Lobster’s men explaining that they worked for the American Army, and would cross to America – or else. They also pointed out that there were nine thousand of them, and asked if the locals would allow them through, gold handed over, as well as oil and gas, even a little food.
The nervous locals were happy enough with the deal, and laid on buses – provided that fuel was handed over. The Rifles assembled at the American border, cut down the fences easily enough, and crossed into Arizona, the roads void of federal agents or civilians alike, no Mexican drug traffickers to be seen sneaking across the border.
Magestic 3
Copyright © Geoff Wolak
www.geoffwolak-writing.com
Part 6
Power corrupts
Jimmy handed me a data-pad. ‘On there is … a story, a long story, and it’s … kind of secret. You’ll see why when you read it.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Lock yourself away for a few days, cancel everything, and … once you’ve finished the story you’ll not sleep well for a while, quite a while. Find me when you’re ready.’
He left me holding the data-pad, and left me a little stunned. What the hell could be on the pad, and was this about Toby? I cancelled a few meetings, told Susan I had an important task – without elaborating upon it – and sat down with a cup of tea.
I opened the first section, a note to say that Mobius the computer had sifted the vast amount of data and put the story together, a story about the world where our alien attackers launched their attacks from. My eyes widened.
It began: the following notes, details, reports and transcripts come from members of The Resistance. That group of humans, headed by Dr Singh, and mostly scientists associated with the development of America’s secret portal technology programme, had smuggled out a data-stick attached to a missile that would have never gone bang. That data-stick was found in Britain, north of the RAF base that had been attacked whilst Jimmy was holding a press conference, and contained a massive 104 gigabytes of information.
On their world, the year had been 1986 when a portal first crackled into life, at the hands of Dr Singh no less. Many years earlier he had persuaded a Pentagon general to give his theories a chance, and had been allocated a big budget. The budget was a surprise, but Singh soon discovered that the USAF and NASA had been looking at time travel in earnest for decades, but were stuck and making no progress. It sounded familiar.
I skipped to a section on “historical notes”.
On this particular world, the Second World War had been fought in a manner similar to that on many worlds, and had concluded in 1946 with the allies reaching Berlin.
‘Berlin?’ I questioned.
The allies had reached Berlin, the Russian Army sat to the east. With the Germans defeated, the allies sat down with the Russians to discuss the post-war borders of Europe and its political make-up, a meeting held in the rubble of Berlin itself. Britain had demanded that the Russians return to their own borders, but the Russians were having none of that. The Russians also wanted fifty percent of Germany, and would the allies mind moving back a few miles? No agreement had been made, the meeting acrimonious.
A week later, Russian ground unit
s had fired on British units north of Berlin. The British returned fire, only to suffer overwhelming artillery fire in return, casualties very high. The RAF took off, and effectively bombed the Russian artillery positions at night, the Americans trying to avoid a conflict. At dawn the following day the Russian Air Force, what it was, struck at British units around Berlin, the RAF employing early jet fighters and decimating Russian aircraft formations. Russian tanks rolled forwards, thousands of them.
America could not be seen to be running away from the Russians, and so went on alert, its tank units brought back from drunken R&R in Berlin’s hotspots. The Russian armour organised a feint against the British, north of Berlin, and attacked well south of Berlin, taking the American units based there by surprise.
‘Why were the Russians not fearful of a nuclear attack from the allies?’ I wondered. I searched for atom bomb use, only to find that there hadn’t been any. US bombers had created fire-storms in many Japanese cities during the hot summer of 1945, and that had ended the war in the Far East in January 1946. The Manhattan Project was late getting started, and an atom bomb was due to be tested in 1947, shelved due to the research costs in 1946 after Japan surrendered.
So the Russian armour hit the American armour south of Berlin, and war was declared, another war. The plentiful British and American bomber squadrons took off and pounded the Russian lines, the Russian Air Force limited in its response. By day, British jet fighters and American P51s tangled with Russian fighters, and won easily.
But the front line was vast, from Finland to Turkey, and the Russians were spread out. Their artillery, superior in numbers, pounded the allies day and night, their tanks moving close in at night, allied casualties now even heavier than those caused by the retreating Germans. The folks back home were soon questioning the merits of such a war, calls for a negotiated peace – loud calls. The US President of the day tried to negotiate with the Russians, who then saw that move as a sign of weakness. Austria was invaded, the limited number of US divisions there soon pushed back, and with high casualties, many prisoners taken.
