“You’re going to try it, right?” Mitch asked. “You’ve got to.”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” Francis said. “We can’t exactly leave this thing standing out here.”
“Right on,” Mitch agreed. “I’m tempted to head over and take Bog for a little spin myself.”
“Bog?” Francis repeated.
“Body of god,” Mitch said. “Bog for short.”
Francis rolled his eyes. “I know you’re dying to try this, but don’t come over now. Richelle’s not exactly over the moon about what just happened. And more importantly, do not start telling people this thing is called ‘Bog’. For one, it’s a stupid name. It’s also what the English call their toilets.”
“Alright,” Mitch consented. “So what do we call it?”
“I don’t really see why we need to call it anything right now,” Francis said.
“How about Titan?” Mitch suggested.
“Don’t come over,” Francis said, and turned off the radio before Mitch could reply.
“You guys better go speak to her,” Erik said. “And for what it’s worth, I think that was a shitty thing you did.”
“It was,” Naoko agreed.
“I’ll go,” Titov said. “You park Bog in the hangar.”
Chapter 92
Pyongyang, North Korea
Monday 25 June 2007
1600 KST
Kim Jong-sul was enduring what he had come to think of as his daily morale boost when Rhee arrived. The exercise involved sitting at the head of the grotesquely large stone table in the aptly named Hall of Patronage as one general after another vied for the title of most self-deprecating asshole on the planet, while attributing to the dear leader both praise and responsibility for just about anything they could think of. It didn’t even seem important whether or not the acts were real or mildly plausible. One general, apparently unsatisfied with his performance, had even suggested that Kim was to be commended for the increased fertility of north Korean women in the first week of his reign. Kim didn’t know if the general was implying that he, the great leader, had been personally involved in nudging up the number of pregnancies, but he accepted the round of applause patiently and sat back to hear what the next man in line would have to dream up to avoid falling behind. After half an hour of this charade he got bored and sent them all away.
When he saw Rhee, Kim cheered up and insisted they make a hasty retreat to his private rooms.
“Someone asked me yesterday,” Kim said, “if I thought it was a good idea to outlaw the private repair of bicycles in the capital because one of my long-lost relatives is having trouble making the desired level of profits in his own repair shops. Can you believe that?”
“It does sound a little drastic,” Rhee said.
“Drastic? It’s completely insane,” Kim said. “These people aren’t living in another country; they’re on a different planet.”
“Then I guess you have your work cut out for you,” Rhee said. “If you don’t mind, I have some urgent things I need you to sign.”
“When can I see my family?” Kim said. “I know you said we have to wait, but isn’t there any other way? I’m going crazy here. If I have to visit another factory and listen to these idiots lie about everything as if it were the height of virtue I’ll end up shooting myself. Where would your plans be then?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Rhee said “These orders authorize the final stages of our project. I’ll remind the Chinese that you have been more than cooperative. Perhaps we can arrange a trip to Beijing, or at least over the border.”
Kim did not even pretend to read what Rhee handed him. In fact, he’d stopped reading just about everything he put his name to these days.
“Thank you,” Rhee said. “I will be speaking to Commander Duan tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll have some good news in a day or two.”
Rhee left in a hurry and made his way across the capital to the home of the only other man in the country who knew the entire truth about both Project 38 and Kim Jong-sul. This was Vice Marshal Hwang Gil-su, chief of the foreign intelligence directorate and Rhee’s nominal superior. Within the precarious world of North Korean politics, Rhee’s relationship to Kim and his Chinese backers placed him several rungs above Hwang in the hierarchy that actually mattered. However, on this occasion Rhee went out of his way to play down this fact.
“Marshal, I hope you are well,” Rhee said, stepping out onto the veranda.
“I’d feel a lot better if you told me what’s so urgent,” Hwang said.
“I’m afraid I bring disturbing news,” Rhee said.
Hwang sat down in one of the lounge chairs and let out a long sigh, as if he had known all along this moment would eventually arrive. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before saying, “How bad is it?”
“Commander Duan has been arrested,” Rhee said. “It looks like the Chinese have changed their minds about our little venture.”
Hwang said nothing, only looked out across the garden and nodded slowly to himself. When his cigarette had burnt down to the butt he used it to light another and flicked it over the balcony. When he turned to Rhee his face was void of emotion. “We should have known better than to trust them.”
Rhee looked around, then lowered his voice and said, “We have the bombs. They were delivered two days ago.”
Hwang’s eyes grew wide. “They are here?”
Rhee nodded. “Duan must have known what was coming. Why else would he have made the delivery?”
“And decided to level the playing field,” Hwang said. “What do you propose we do, general?”
Rhee made a point of appearing to consider this in earnest, then said, “We have the advantage. If the Chinese want to end our cooperation we must make it clear that we still expect our rightful dues under the agreement.”
“But they have Kim Jong-sul’s wife and child,” Hwang pointed out. “They know he will be of little use to us without them.”
“Perhaps,” Rhee said. “We must demand their immediate return as a show of good faith. If they cooperate we can open negotiations for the return of the weapons on our own terms.”
Hwang nodded, less scared now than thoughtful. “I suppose you intend to remain at Kim Jong-sul’s side?”
Rhee shrugged as if this was of little import. “You and I are the only ones who know of his circumstances. Between the two of us, I think we can manage him.”
Hwang lit another cigarette and extended a hand. “We’ll make it work. For the sake of our good nation.”
Rhee shook the hand and smiled, “Why of course. What other sake is there?”
Chapter 93
Aurora
Monday 25 June 2007
2000 EEST
In the end it was Almila who put forward a name everyone could agree on. System 334-5 in the Saishan arsenal, also known as the Body of God, was to be called Odin after the Allfather of the gods and the ruler of Asgard in Norse mythology. Considering their proximity to the Scandinavian mainland, it even made a kind of sense.
The other decision made that day was going to be harder to implement. It was for that very purpose that Francis, Titov and Mitch had come to Richelle’s office and were now standing three abreast in front of her desk.
“You won’t regret it,” Mitch said. “I’ll stake my life on it.”
Richelle looked at the helmet Francis was holding out to her, but made no move to take it.
“He’s right,” Titov said.
“What do you say?” Francis said. “We’ve all tried it.”
“That’s what worries me,” Richelle said. “You’ve all tried it, and now you’re itching to get anyone who will listen to do the same. It’s like you’ve all found religion.”
“It’s not like that,” Francis said.
“No?” Richelle said. “Then what’s it like?”
“I can’t describe it,” Francis said. “It’s like leaving your own body and occupying another one. Not just partly, but completely. Y
our sight, hearing, nerves, everything.”
“That’s not a very convincing argument,” Richelle said. “Do you even have any idea how it works?”
Mitch took the helmet from Francis and held it up. “It’s a bypass system. I mean, we have no idea how the actual technology works, but it obviously taps into the control and sensory channels in the brain and diverts them somehow.”
“Sorry,” Richelle said, “But that sounds even less appealing.”
“If you try it I’ll jump off the pier,” Mitch said.
Titov and Francis both looked at him.
“What?” Mitch said. “It’s called incentivizing.”
“Go on,” Richelle said.
“Naked,” Mitch said.
“You’ll jump off the pier?” Richelle said. “Naked?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Mitch said.
Before Richelle could reply, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Richelle said.
It was Erik.
“What’s up?” Richelle said.
“I’ve got Jasper here,” Erik announced. “You said you wanted to see him?”
“Bring him in,” Richelle said.
“My, my,” Titov said, “he lives.”
If Jasper was having trouble coming to terms with his new situation, he hid it well. In fact, he seemed far more curious about Richelle’s office than what he was doing there. They all watched him in amused silence as he ran his eyes from floor to ceiling and back again.
“Mr. Klein,” Richelle said. “Is everything okay?”
Without taking his eyes off the wall, Jasper said, “This is absolutely amazing. How are you keeping the moisture levels down in here?”
“I don’t know,” Richelle said. “How are we doing that, Erik?”
They all turned to Erik, Jasper included.
“We have two Rotan industrial convector units built into the climate control system,” Erik said.
“Sounds good to me,” Richelle said. “Does that answer your question?”
“Incredible,” Jasper said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. At least not on this scale.”
“Well we’re glad you approve,” Richelle said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to accompany Mitch here to our—our other facility.”
“Is it subterranean?” Jasper asked.
“No,” Richelle said. “But it is important. You’ll have plenty of time to look around when you get back. In fact, you’ll probably get sick of it before long.”
“I doubt that,” Jasper said.
Judging by the looks on their faces, so did everyone else.
Before Mitch could protest, Richelle said, “Looks like we’ll have to put the dare on hold. I’ll be keeping you to it, though.”
Mitch left with Erik and Jasper. When they were gone, Titov laughed. “Jasper’s crazier than a shithouse rat.”
“He’s a geological engineer,” Francis said. “He probably thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. Either that or he’s in denial.”
“Well, he’s here,” Richelle said. “That’s the main thing.”
“So you’re serious about trying Odin?” Francis said.
Richelle picked up the helmet and said, “Let’s do it.”
“Really?” Francis said.
“It was never in question,” Richelle said. “And if either of you tell Mitch, I’m going to cut your balls off. I plan on pushing that little shit off the pier myself.”
Chapter 94
Nampo, North Korea
Tuesday 26 June 2007
0600 KST
The scene resembled a military parade in miniature. Lined up at attention in eight columns of ten stood General Rhee’s best and last hope for the future of the Korean People’s Republic, at least the version of it he was now imagining.
The Red Company, as it was known, was the elite formation of Marshal Hwang’s internal security battalion: eighty men, all young, all single, all highly trained, and all fanatical in their devotion to the state and its dear leader. They were also the designated spearhead for the operational phase of Project 38.
Conceived by Pok almost five decades earlier, Red Storm, as it had been known then, had called for six tunnels in all, stretching across the border at half mile intervals. On the day of reckoning these would provide passage for almost twenty thousand men, the bulk of whom would move south, while a smaller contingent attacked the border from behind, opening the way for the waiting armored formations. By the time the Chinese became aware of the plans, the entire concept was obsolete in all but name. Its replacement, named Project 38, was the brainchild of a small group of planners inside Duan’s intelligence directorate, who had discarded everything but the tunnel at the Jangdan-myeon mine, which would now be routed directly into the newly-built subway system on the outskirts of Seoul. Hwang’s Red Company had been created for this purpose.
On this new day of reckoning the company would move into the subway system, the target location now under renovation by a Chinese contractor, and split up into six platoons, each in possession of one of the warheads. More a terrorist operation than a military one, each bomb would be located at a strategic site for maximum effect, essentially shutting down the capital. At this point the Chinese would enter the picture, offering to negotiate a settlement with the South in which all American forces would be removed from the peninsula in exchange for a permanent Chinese military presence on the border. Had this idea been a mere creation of the Chinese themselves, it might rightly have been considered madness, but it was not. This aspect of the plan had been the contribution of an entity with much longer reach and far deeper insights than the men in Beijing, an entity whose emissary was known to them only as Iris, and Iris had assured them than when the time came, the Americans would cooperate.
Rhee knew only some of this, not that it mattered now. To Rhee, Project 38 no longer existed. Hwang had given him the Red Battalion, the Chinese had given him the warheads, and his plan for both had nothing to do with the South.
“Soldiers of the Red Company,” Rhee proclaimed. “This is a great day. For many years now we have been forced to toil under the Chinese menace, who have betrayed our dear leader and sought to crush our people. No more. Today we stand up and reclaim what is ours. We have been given a great honor. A chance to prove our loyalty to the dear leader and the memory of his father. I urge you to repay his trust with your undying devotion. Death to the Chinese invader!”
At this the soldiers raised their right arms in a fist and repeated the call. “Death to the Chinese invader!”
They would probably have kept up the chant until they lost their voices had Rhee not turned to the major in command of the battalion and ordered him to assemble his platoon commanders and meet him in the administration building.
When the major arrived with three of his lieutenants, Rhee was in a jubilant mood.
“The Xilin Gol arrives in less than twenty-four hours,” Rhee said, pointing at the map. “She will dock here next to these silos. It will take several hours to unload the cement, then she will head straight back to Shanghai.”
“Do we have plans of the ship, sir?” the major asked.
“You will have them by this afternoon,” Rhee said.
“Do we know how many crew are on board, sir?”
“No more than twenty,” Rhee said. “Perhaps less. The only military personnel will be the political officer and possibly a few guards. I propose you board her with as few men as possible at first. The key will be securing their communications before anyone can report the situation.”
“Lieutenant Park,” the major said. “Your platoon will lead the boarding party. First platoon will secure the perimeter, while Third moves the cargo and supplies into position.”
The commanders acknowledged their orders with a silent nod. Rhee couldn’t help but marvel at the difference between these men and their conscript counterparts in the general army. It was like watching a scene from an American war movie, of which
Rhee had a plentiful collection hidden away in the safe of his Pyongyang apartment.
“If there is nothing else, sir,” the major said, “we will begin our preparations right away.”
“Of course,” Rhee said. “You may go.”
When they were gone Rhee walked to the map on the wall. He brushed all the pins off with a sweep of his hand, then picked one up and stuck it back with deliberate force over the port of Shanghai.
Chapter 95
The Pandora
Tuesday 26 June 2007
0130 EEST
Francis’s suggestion that Jasper’s fascination with the engineering feats of Aurora might just have been a sign of denial turned out to be eerily prescient. His reaction to RP One was similar, only this time there was no distraction available. He stood looking at the bizarre doughnut-shaped alien craft as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. A school bus, perhaps, or a water fountain.
“So?” Mitch said. “What do you think?”
“It’s an interesting idea,” Jasper said, as if RP One was something Mitch had just described to him rather than a reality standing only a few yards away.
“Okay,” Mitch said. “Would you like to have a look around?”
“Sure,” Jasper said.
But instead of walking into the hangar Jasper turned around and headed back the way they had come.
“It’s this way,” Mitch said.
“I don’t feel well,” Jasper said. “I need to get some fresh air. I think I’m going to—”
Jasper put his hand over his mouth and dry-heaved several times. Mitch was about to suggest they go back to the bridge when Naoko ran through the door.
“There you are,” Naoko said. “You need to get in here.”
Mitch looked from Naoko to Jasper and said, “All right, get him topside. I think he’s gonna hurl. Hurry back down.”
When Mitch stepped onto the bridge Heinz and Watkins were already in the early stages of panic.
“What’s going on?” Mitch said.
Origin - Season Two Page 31