Return to Wardate

by Bill Cornwell

  ‘As I was saying, it may be a good idea if we put our heads together… Nuttall, the head of MI 7 has sent me here. At present he is working on a few leads. We believe that a man called Mark Titoo could be behind all this,’ said Madeline uncharacteristically trembling slightly. Not everyday did people get to talk to the entire American congress.

  ‘Hang on… MI 7? MI 7 doesn’t bloody exist!’ said General Elver.

  ‘It’s a secret Government department,’ pleaded Madeline.

  ‘Secret or not, if MI 7 existed, we’d know about it,’ said the vice President.

  ‘It does, this special watch is a direct link to Nuttall!’ insisted Madeline.

  ‘He’s right Madeline, if it existed, we would know about it,’ said the President sympathetically.

  Only one thing for it, Madeline activated her super watch.

  ‘Nuttall, are you there?’ said Madeline.

  ‘Hello Madeline, well done!’ said Nuttall.

  ‘I’m with the President and his top men. They don’t believe me that MI 7 exists, please tell them,’ said Madeline.

  ‘They’re right MI 7 doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Nuttall, what the hell are you talking about!’ yelled Madeline into her watch.

  ‘We made it all up… told you Capesdown was MI 7 so you’d let us modify and train you. You’ve fulfilled your first mission successfully, you’ve reached the hierarchy of the USA,’ said Nuttall.

  ‘Yes, I have and they’re free from the brainwashing. They can now defend themselves,’ said Madeline positively.

  ‘Exactly, that was the problem. The conditioning is global, we couldn’t avoid that but it detracted the Americans from retaliating.’

  And then it dawned with the thud.

  ‘Oh my God… you want Armageddon and I’ve just made it possible,’

  Madeline may have been a machine but she had to sit down - what had she done!

  ‘Is the President there? Let me speak to him,’ said Nuttall.

  Madeline took off the watch and passed it to the President. She was visibly shaking.

  ‘This is the President of the United States of America,’ said the President.

  ‘May I say this is a great honour sir, to talk to probably the greatest president America has ever had,’ said Nuttall creepily.

  ‘To the point sir!

  ‘I want to assure you that all that has been done and is to be done do is for the good of this world and the people on it.’

  ‘May I say Sir, you have a misguided interpretation of the word: good.’

  ‘With respect Mr President, there is much more going on here than you can possibly imagine,’ said Nuttall sombrely.

  Madeline thought it time to but in, she was, after all, still a British secret agent even if now, her employers weren’t apparently working for Queen and country.

  ‘Mr President, we have to find this Mark Titoo, I’m sure he’s behind all this.’

  ‘Yes you’re right but you have it all wrong, Mark Titoo isn’t a man, Mark Titoo isn’t even of this world. As I’ve said, much more is afoot than you realise,’ said Nuttall

  He was clearly talking in riddles and making no sense what-so-ever. It was time to terminate the conversation. There was an unusual silence in the room. Not for the first time she had lit the proverbial touch paper. Time and time again people had told her that MI 7 didn’t exist. All she had to do was Google it and that would have confirmed it. Once again her eagerness had led her head long into… into… there was no other word for it – Armageddon.

  ‘I am so, so sorry,’ she said pitifully.

  ‘Sorry for what, as far as we’re concerned, you’ve warned us,’ said the President.

  ‘Yes but you now have no alternative. You will go to DEFCON 1. The invasion fleet won’t relent, they’re all possessed with hatred for you. You’ll press the button, they’ll press the button and goodbye world.’

  ‘You’re surmising now,’ said the Vice President.

  ‘No she’s right, it is… perfect endgame,’ said the President.

  It really was.

  ‘How can Armageddon be good for the world? I’m sure he’s mad or on something… As far as I can see it, there’s only one way out of this,’ said Madeline.

  ‘Go on…’ said the President.

  ‘We find where the brainwashing signal is coming from and destroy it at source,’ said Madeline.

  It was important that Madeline gave out the ear devices. At present, it was only the app running on Madeline’s super watch that was blocking the ultrasound signal. Before they all made there way to the basement of the west wing, everyone had the app running permanently on their smart phones just in case the met anyone who was exceedingly miserable.

  Following the recent revelation that MI 7 didn’t exist along with the rest of what Nuttall had said, Madeline’s thoughts were now frenzying about in… Poppy’s head. How could anyone perpetrating a new world war possibly have good intentions? And Mark Titoo… of course he was a man and of this world unless he really was as talking about aliens but would an alien realistically be called Mark? Surely it would be ofdijhv or something. Why, right at the beginning, was she sent to terminate those inmates if Nuttall had nothing to do with the Government? Why was she upgraded – made virtually indestructible? - Who paid for that? Why the elaborate and no doubt expensive charade with Capesdown hall and why, the bloody hell, did Nuttall loan her his Aston Martin?

  Chapter 29: Bottom of the World

  The Situation room was staffed with the entire national Security Council. As expected, they were all very miserable, gloomy people… for a few minutes – then the mood lifted like aspirins suddenly taking effect. Everyone had the app running on their smart phones and all, without exception were horrified at the present crisis that they had previously completely disregarded. The Room was equipped with the most advanced and secure communications equipment available – unless you happened to be Madeline Bull. The President and his men were ready to ask the pertinent questions.

  ‘Has any unusual activity been detected anywhere on the globe,’ asked the defence secretary.

  ‘Nothing Sir,’ said a technician.

  ‘Are you monitoring everywhere, the Dead Sea for instance?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘Yes Madam,’ said the same someone.

  ‘Are we monitoring the Poles?’ asked the President.

  ‘Yes… err actually no, didn’t think there was any point,’ said another technician.

  ‘Well check them, dammit!’ said the Vice President.

  The various large wall monitors displayed the Artic area of the earth and then zoomed in towards the North pole.

  ‘I’ll change to infrared, that’ll show up any life forms,’ said the same technician.

  Apart from small settlements scattered about and several polar bears, nothing was unusual.

  ‘Moving to the Antarctic,’ said the technician.

  The map moved rapidly downwards to the South Pole.

  ‘Switching to infrared,’ said the technician.

  The map continued to zoom in.

  ‘What the hell, is that?’ said one of the Generals, referring to a bright red spot a short distance to the Pole.

  The map continued to zoom in. To Madeline it was exactly like Google-Earth but this was live and all sensitive areas were accessible.

  ‘Good god! Looks like a small village.’ said the Defence Secretary.

  ‘Check there’s no authorised activity in that area,’ said the vice President.

  ‘Nothing at all Sir,’ a reply came back.

  The map had now fully zoomed in and the detail, considering the feed was obviously from a spy satellite, was remarkable. The settlement appeared to consist of substantial living quarters, four generator buildings, two large fuel tanks and around the perimeter of the camp, an array of forty or so white horn shaped devices pointing outwards.

  ‘My God!’ said the President. ‘How the hell have they assembled all that out there?’

&
nbsp; ‘And under your noses,’ said Madeline.

  ‘Problem easily solved… nuke it!’ said the Defence Secretary.

  ‘Not advised Sir,’ said an officer on a nearby booth. ‘The effects of the nuclear device melting the icecap will be devastating – a substantial rise in the world’s sea level not to mention the tsunami that would follow.’

  ‘Send missiles then!’ said the Defence Secretary.

  ‘Have we got anyone in that area?’ asked the President.

  ‘…Maryland, she’s Ohio class, off the coast of Tasmania Sir,’ said another officer.

  ‘Ohio class?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘A Ballistic missile submarine,’ said the same officer. ‘It’s carrying four MRBM’s, just about in range Sir.’

  ‘M-R-B-M?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘Do we have to give a running commentary!’ complained the Defence Secretary.

  ‘Medium range ballistic missile,’ said the President. ‘No time to waste, contact Maryland – tell them to fire all they’ve got.’

  It would take nearly fifteen minutes, almost the maximum range of the missiles, before they reached their target. The screen tracked their movement across the globe – they seemed to take forever even though they were travelling at speeds up to 10,000 MPH. The Officers closely monitored the settlement. No life signs were detected, not to say that the place wasn’t inhabited, they would hardly be stepping outside for a fag at temperatures of minus 60C. It certainly was incredible how the settlement had been built under the extremely inhospitable conditions. Computers analysed the horn shaped devices, the conclusion was that they were indeed ultrasound emitters – gigantic, enormously powerful tweeters. The same computers then calculated the power required to project an ultrasound wave over a distance of ten thousand miles, all around the earth – it was a lot – enough to power a small town. This was the reason for having four separate generator buildings. It was an amazing achievement, almost a shame it had to be destroyed.

  ‘They’re beginning the decent Sir,’ said an Officer.

  Suddenly, several bright flashes were seen in the area of the settlement.

  ‘What the hell are they?’ said the Vice President.

  ‘GBI’s Sir,’ said an Officer.

  ‘Ground based interceptors,’ explained the President before Madeline asked the question.

  They all watched as the GBI’s and the MRBM’s rapidly moved towards each other and collided with four huge explosions lighting up the whole electronic wall map.

  ‘Any more subs in the area?’ asked the President.

  ‘No Sir, nearest is Kentucky just off Peru. We can always send ICBM’s,’ said an Officer.

  ‘Intercontinental ballistic missiles,’ said the President before Madeline asked.

  ‘How come they were so damn well prepared? It’s as though they knew they were on there way.’ said the Defence Secretary.

  Madeline suddenly had the second sinking feeling of the day.

  ‘I think they did,’ said Madeline poignantly.

  ‘You have a hunch?’ said the Vice President.

  Madeline took her super watch off and gave to the same officer who knew all about the effects of nuclear weapons on icecaps.

  ‘What do you make of this watch?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘Beautiful, bid for one of these on ebay - went for over a hundred dollars. Tri band smart phone, GPS, Bluetooth, 5 mega pixel camera… takes brilliant videos as well.’ said the officer.

  ‘But not a $100,000 watch though?’ asked Madeline.

  The officer shook his head.

  ‘Nuttall! You piece of sputum!’ shouted Madeline.’ ‘I know you’re listening.’

  ‘Yes, sorry, Just a little misdirection,’ said Nuttall through her audio.

  Madeline searched her pockets in her designer jacket – she found the little jamming device that Barton had given her and turned it on. It was misdirection indeed; the super watch had fooled her into not using her jamming device. Now the green light was on and hopefully blocking Nuttall’s communication channel.

  ‘Sorry chaps, it looks like I’ve been Nuttall’s eyes and ears for quite a while.’

  ‘So he’s known everything we’ve done up to now,’ said the Defence Secretary.

  ‘Yes… but he doesn’t know what we’re going to do next,’ said Madeline confidently.

  ‘He does, were sending ICBM’s?’ said the Vice President.

  ‘There’s no point, they’ll just intercept them like the M R… B M’s. No, someone needs to parachute in and detonate the fuel tanks,’ said Madeline.’

  ‘Absolutely preposterous… Suicide! They’ll bring down the drop off plane and if they miss they’ll certainly get the parachutist,’ boomed the Defence Secretary.’

  ‘How close then, do you think a jet can get without being seen?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘You’re talking thirty miles from the target and a minimum of 50,000 feet,’ said a technician.

  ‘No problem then.’

  ‘Madeline, you don’t understand, to jump from 50,000 ft, is a specialised feat. For a start whoever’s mad enough to do it will need a fully pressurised suit with oxygen supply. And then to walk thirty miles in completely hostile condition - minus 70 degrees… completely impossible,’ said the President.

  ‘Impossible for a human,’ said Madeline.

  Chapter 30: Darling Adam

  It was the only possible way of reaching and destroying the target – Madeline had to do it alone. Despite all the hi-tech military machinery in the possession of the USA, there was nothing that could get even close. Whether they liked it or not, the whole world was in the hands of a feisty, seductive, British built Android. If anyone could complete this impossible mission it was Madeline Bull and her super android body. No one could ever accuse her of not having confidence in herself. Surely she could cope with the inhospitable conditions and do what was required. She had jumped out of a plane before – it was just a little bit higher, that was all. In explosive motion, she could easily run thirty miles in an hour – how hard could it be?

  In her mind it was all perfectly feasible – she had no idea.

  Sometimes you can get bogged down in the spirit of the moment and this was exactly what Madeline was doing now. You couldn’t blame her. In the company of the President of America, being centre of attention in the Situation room of the White House and incidentally, about to save the world single handed, she had completely overlooked the most important person in her life. If she’d spent a little time thinking about it, she would have realised that Adam was last seen getting in a taxi with questionable company. The recent conversation to Nuttall had revealed that he was now the enemy. It was he who told her about Gemma Bream and it was Gemma that told her about Zol Pidem. It would be a while before she had the opportunity to think about such matters and make the disturbing connections. At the moment her thoughts were preoccupied with the humanly impossible mission she was about to embark on.

  ‘There’s no doubt that you are truly remarkable but you are just a machine at the end of the day. Are you sure you aren’t going beyond your limitations?’ asked the President.

  ‘If you want to get pedantic, we are all just a machine – you’re made from calcium and biological stuff, I’m made from chloro bromine and silicone, but believe me, I am alive in every sense of the word.’

  ‘Point taken but I have to ask, are you sure you want to attempt this task?’

  ‘Mr President, attempt, infers possible failure - I don’t do failure. Of course I want to, this is exactly what the British built me for… and I will do my best,’ said Madeline doggedly.

  That was most likely the last time she would speak with the President. He had always treated her courteously and called her by her first name despite her composition and the assumption that she had an electronic soul – how little he knew. Madeline Bull hoped that he had set an example to others of how to treat artificial life forms. She was glaringly aware that all too many people in her complex world were
intrinsically insensitive, narrow minded and full of a different kind of bull.

  Madeline thought it wise to have a few quiet words with Barton on her internal system. The upshot was that her super android body could no more cope with the extreme cold than could a human. At sustained low temperatures her subcutaneous fluids would freeze up, her pneumatic muscles would seize and ultimately her power cell would fail – in effect, she would die. Lack of oxygen was also a problem as the fuel cell needed this vital element to function. That was why, even though she was an android, she breathed. Running at a sustained thirty miles per hour in explosive motion was perfectly within limits but would inevitably use up her power reserves very quickly. She would need a recharge somewhere in the middle of the Antarctica. So, basically, all her weaknesses related exactly to human weaknesses.

  The cold was a simple problem to fix – a skin tight thermal suit. She would be wearing a standard issue pressure suit with a built in oxygen supply for the drop so problems there should be resolved. The mid Antarctica recharge however, was an insurmountable hurdle. She would have to be fully charged when she left the jet and just hope that her power lasted until she could somehow recharge herself at the enemy base… before she blew it up.

  Once again she was in the air hurtling up through the clouds but this time in a stealth jet. No expense spared, nothing was taken to chance on this mission. The most advanced aircraft the US had, a B-2 Spirit, was carrying an equally valuable cargo. She was a technical marvel but also America’s only chance - the only chance of avoiding Armageddon. Last time her drop was a breeze, a walk in the park. This time she was going to be dropped from ten miles up on the edge of the troposphere and have to freefall for nine miles to evade detection. Despite wearing an insulated pressure suit, the extreme conditions would still tax her artificial form to the limit.