The World Game

by Allen Charles

  “If we are there for our partners in a physically dangerous situation then we should be there to help against anything that may be detrimental. I saw that Cadet Shaw was being shamed enough by his own negligence without having to undergo the embarrassment of standing naked in front of the whole group, sir. I made the decision to protect cadet Shaw by the only means at hand. Sir.”

  Fuller rounded his desk and sat down. He cocked his head to one side. “Cadet, now that you know that such impulsive behavior will result in disciplinary action, how will you act in future similar situations?”

  “My action was not impulsive sir. It was calculated to cause the least possible immediate and long term harm to our group. I would do exactly the same thing again, sir.”

  Fuller allowed a tiny smile to turn up his mouth. He reached out to a drawer in his desk and took out a small box. “Step forward cadet Hannaford.” He paused as she took a step forward. “Let’s make that Second Lieutenant Hannaford for the moment.” He held out the box with the rank insignia. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, just a slightly. Regaining full composure she accepted the box and stepped back.

  “Thank you for your confidence sir.”

  “You are the squad commander of your group as of now Hannaford. Your rank is only good within your group. Not in general personnel. I will call upon your recommendations for promotion of other members in conjunction with my own observations. We will structure into five squads of four cadets per squad. This will be completed by 0600 tomorrow. Promotions will follow in due course. I will announce your position at dinner in one hour. Do you understand cadet?”

  “Yes sir!”

  “You may return to your quarters.”

  CHAPTER 8

  CIA - AIIG Division 24th June, late afternoon.

  “Director Hanes, Madam Secretary.” The senior operative acknowledged their presence as they waited for the Joint Chiefs of Staff to assemble. The Secretary of State looked ruffled after her rushed task to call the Joint Chiefs. She had out a small mirror and a lipstick as she watched the operative.

  He launched into his analysis conjuring up images of buildings that floated before him with transparent walls showing room interiors down the most minute detail. Looking closely, human figures could be discerned moving about.

  “We are looking into the governmental palace of Jong Il in Pyonyang in real time, currently early morning of June 25 in Korea. It is our understanding that Jong Il will instigate a nuclear attack within hours, just as fast as he can arm his missiles, so we are following him 24/7.

  He will push the button himself. Our Psych profile on him makes it clear that he could not allow anyone else to do this. He has admitted on more than one occasion that his apparent belligerence and madness is feigned, as was that of his father and grandfather. It was all showmanship and brinkmanship contrived to destabilise the region and milk surrounding nations and of course us, for all the money they could collect. That run has now ended because the real lunatics, the Iranians, have achieved nuclear capacity and they will first use it on their old ally and supplier. Iran perceives the Korean Hegemony as the only threat to their plans for Islamic world domination. Our threat assessment has increased to 98% certainty that Iran will press the button. That is what Jong Il has concluded and he really does know his old playmates well.”

  The operative stopped for a breath and the Secretary of State asked, “How can we be so sure that Jong Il really knows for certain? Where are we getting these live feeds from? I had no idea of our capability until I saw the recordings a few minutes ago!”

  The operative looked to Director Hanes for a cue. Hanes nodded for him to answer.

  “Madam Secretary, Jong Il has had deep cover operatives embedded in the Iranian nuclear project for over a decade. These operatives are Iranians who believe they are working for the West. Some think it is Great Britain, some think for the United States. Jong Il was very clever about that as he anticipated that any Asian operatives in the project would be purged, which in fact happened about a year ago. His operatives have given him intelligence from the innermost circle of Iran’s nuclear development group.” The operative gave the Secretary a moment, but she sat silent and indicated he should continue.

  “Our methods for intelligence collection are highly classified. So much so that outside of these walls, only the President and three of the Joint Chiefs know about it, and only on a “need to know” basis. You are the fifth person outside of this directorate to see this in action. Director Hanes, I ask you now to state the level to which I should disclose our surveillance technology to the Madam Secretary.”

  The Secretary huffed with anger at this “in your face” bypass of her authority. The Director waved his fingers to calm her down and said, “Agent Gordon is following strict procedure Madam Secretary. He could not do otherwise and would be criminally negligent had he gone further without my authority. You have my authorisation for full disclosure Agent.” Hanes pulled a communicator from his pocket and spoke a few words in a low tone. A similar device now in the Agent’s hand gave one beep. The Agent looked at the authorisation code record and acknowledged the Director.

  “My apologies Madam Secretary.”

  “Accepted and not required. Please continue.”

  “Madam Secretary, over the past two decades the USA has developed the concept of molecular sized robots far beyond what is known publicly. We have all heard of nanobots and the good they can do medically and in a host of other applications. We decided to try to create spybots and succeeded far beyond the original concept.

  Our solution is a nanobot based wall paint. On the premise that every building has some paint in it, even the most dank and basic prison cell in Pyonyang, once we infiltrate the paint based spybots into our target they remain virtually invisible and undetectable.

  The present generation of spybots are based upon those used by NASA for their Astronaut Buddy systems. These are, and I quote the NASA handbook, biobot derivation of semi-organic hybrid protoplasm enhanced with human stem cells for intelligence, earthworm DNA for structure and organic armor growth from deep sea sulphur based life forms.

  We took these biobots and made them self sustaining scavengers that could be controlled by signals from satellites. To ensure an ongoing replenishment of the biobot spybots we made their base sustenance paint. They eat paint. And of course in doing so create a need for repainting.

  We are able to control the spybots to form lenses and audio amplifiers and they transmit on a nanofrequency radio range that is undetectable by any present technology outside our own.”

  “Excuse me Agent,” The Secretary interrupted, “How can you be so sure about that?” The Agent gave a little smile.

  “Madam Secretary, if they knew about the transmissions or the spybots, we would have been the first to hear about their discovery as we watch them 24/7. They know nothing. The can of paint looks, smells and acts exactly like a can of paint. The air drying activates the spybots and they have an effective life of six months. We move them around so the same patch is not being painted over time and again. They are quite mobile and almost invisible. They change color with their background just like a chameleon lizard.

  This view is being rendered through a new method recently perfected. The spybots have distributed themselves as a lagrange mono layer throughout the whole building complex. Each molecular biobot is equidistant from its six neighbors effectively covering over a million times the area that the same patch of paint would cover. The downside is that the biobots will fail within 48 hours rather than six months. They cannot find nourishment on their own.”

  “At the risk of sounding ignorant, how can we take such a risk, of losing our long term coverage?”

  “Madam Secretary, the threat level is so high and the use of nuclear weapons so certain, there is no point in not taking this action. However we have one more trick up our sleeve Madam Secretary.”

  Gordon looked to Hanes once again and the same short ceremony went down with a beep
to Gordon’s communicator.

  “We have kept aside several strategic, concentrated patches of spybot paint in key locations of the presidential palace. Jong Il has the nuclear activation keys close at hand and amazingly enough, his nuclear activation fail-safe system does rely on antiquated metal keys that need to go into keyholes. These key locks are behind an hermetically sealed safe door that we have not yet been able to crack with the spybots. We are waiting for Jong Il to open this door and give us the chance to flow a spybot patch into the locks, where they will self destruct and fuse the locks closed. He will not be able to launch his attack.”

  “Phew!” The Secretary made a most unladylike noise. “So the fate of the world hangs in the balance on whether Jong Il will turn the keys immediately or give you time to run your plan.”

  “Not entirely Madam Secretary.” Gordon did not lose his composure or miss a beat. “I did say we had several patches of spybots in place. We may not have been able to get into the safe, but we did get to the keys themselves. Both keys have a coating of spybots. We change these coatings every four to six weeks to make sure they will always be active. They were changed one week ago. Jong Il has handled the keys with the spybots and suspects nothing. We have three options with the spybots on the keys. We could build the spybots up in the keyway channel and prevent the key entry. This could be overcome by a strong push into the keyway.

  We could build up the spybots and change the key profile, so preventing the key turning while the ally spybots flow in. Or we could self destruct on the keys making them turn red hot for a moment, burning his fingers and delaying him enough for the flow in.”

  “So Agent Gordon, before I say that I am still not convinced, do you have any more magical tricks that you have not told me about? I do recall that you could not penetrate the Iranian high command tents.”

  “Well Ma’am,” he grinned “we could theoretically kill Jong Il any time we want to with the spybots, but our assessment is that the destabilization would set off the nuclear exchange even faster. Jong Il is a ruthless bastard as we have seen, but he really does have some very scary people around him. As to Iran, we are working on infiltrating tent pole paint but we have run out of time.”

  The Secretary looked at Hanes for clarification. “Charles, where does it go from here?”

  “June, it goes nowhere but back to Iran. We may be able to stop Jong Il, but we also need to stop the Ayatollahs. That’s not so easy. We don’t have too many paint patches in that neck of the woods and as stated, it is extremely hard to paint the inside of a tent.”

  “Tom was talking to Rafi Ben-Gurion earlier. We should go and find out what he has in mind.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Teheran. Presidential bunker. 24th June, late night.

  President Arjmand sat scowling at the end of the conference table. His thinning hair was slicked back with craggy eyebrows accentuating a straight, pointy nose. His eyes were black and smoldering with anger.

  “Who did this? Again! Our systems were supposed to be completely isolated and foolproof! The Israelis got us once with a computer virus back in 2010. Didn’t we learn anything from that? It set us back years, and now it has happened again?” He stood up, glaring at his security council. The ayatollahs who sat there did not flinch under his angry gaze, but the military staff were all gut churning and trying to look away. Only one man stared Arjmand back, eye to eye.

  Arash Zardooz was the head of nuclear development, known as Iranatom. On the surface, developing nuclear energy resources for domestic use. In fact, as the whole world knew, developing weapons of mass destruction, and some of not so mass destruction. Zardooz was a scientist with an unusual secondary function. He was also a Colonel in the state secret police. The fact that security had failed did not seem to bother him even though it was apparent that his own neck was on the line.

  Arjmand walked around the table and got into the face of Zardooz. He spat out one word.

  “Explain!”

  A cold smile crept across the face of Zardooz and he snorted a laugh.

  “Potemkin!” He calmly uttered this one word. Potemkin Village. A legendary place that looked prosperous but was an empty shell.

  Arjmand froze. His eyes widened and his head slowly tilted.

  “Yes?”

  Zardooz shook his head slightly, indicating “not here.”

  Arjmand nodded agreement and pushed back from Zardooz. He looked up and surveyed the council members, noting expressions and reactions.

  Wondering if one was a traitor.

  He looked back to Zardooz and indicated his private office with a slight move of his head.

  “No one is to leave this room. There will be no calls made. Just sit and wait. Do not talk.” Arjmand led Zardooz into the small office and shut the door. The facility was swept for listening devices daily. It was as secure as possible. They leaned towards each other over the deep walnut finish of the freshly varnished desk and Zardooz began explaining.

  “After the Israeli virus attack on our installations in 2010 we realized that nothing was safe. We needed the internet, and our computer systems are Western technology. There is always room for an enemy to insert a passive “back door” access that is undetectable, so my deceased predecessor devised a plan that has worked. There are only ten people today, now with you, eleven, who know of this plan.

  From 2021 onwards I took my most trusted technicians and scientists and created an inner circle and a second, secret production stream. This team meticulously copied every step of the “real” production but manually, using over ordering and insisting on warranty parts with the main equipment orders. There was no internet connection, ever. We reasoned that even if there was a back door built into the secret production facility computers, it would not matter. You need a path outside the door to go somewhere. There was nowhere to go. We have a secret facility, one tenth the capacity of the compromised facilities, but we built a stock of fissionable material, currently enough for around thirty war heads, and our computers are uncompromised.”

  Zardooz leaned back in his chair, a smile across his face, as he watched Arjmand contemplate this news. After a few moments Arjmand looked up at him.

  “So we sacrificed the Potemkin many for the sake of the few. As Allah wills it. An expensive decoy. We have strike capacity. Limited but sufficient to knock out the Korean threat. With such a small number of warheads we must strike first and hard. We will have no room for error and no defence if we fail.” Arjmand paused and squinted at Zardooz.

  “So how did this new virus attack get in? Do you know?”

  Zardooz shrugged.

  “No idea. But that is why we set up the secret facility.”

  Arjmand rubbed his hand over an edge of the desk, polishing a spot on the varnish.

  “Keep looking. There is a traitor here somewhere!” The varnish shined and appeared to ripple in the reflected light from above. “OK let’s go back in. We say nothing.”

  A patch of the varnish raced down the inside of the desk leg and onto Arjmand’s highly polished black shoe.

  Zardooz rose and touched the desk top. “Nice job.”

  They went back to the conference room, Arjmand hard pressed not to show his elation at Zardooz’s revelation.

  He would launch against the Korean Hegemony immediately. Council and traitor be damned.

  The varnish remaining on the recently vacated desk coalesced into a distinctly dish shaped disc. A micro burst nanowave communication flashed through concrete, rock and soil towards a satellite far overhead.

  CHAPTER 10

  Goddard, 25th June, 6 am

  “ All cadets present, Sir.” Felicity Hannaford announced in her new role as squad leader.

  “Cadets.” Fuller surveyed the squad, all in a perfect line and all dress in order. “We are going to do a dry run of our Space City launch today. We will be boarding a Skyhook transport shuttle emulating exactly the same ground stages and preparation as the actual launch day. Except that today we wil
l not be going anywhere.

  Today you need to look and listen so you understand all launch safety protocols and evacuation procedures. After that we will learn the procedures for emergency post launch atmospheric and vacuum survival.

  Cadets, I stress to you that at all times, you remember that your buddy will take care of you and your youniform will protect you. Never panic. In the unlikely event that an emergency situation should arise, you will be able to follow the steps you learn in the coming days. Cadets! Learn and live! Live and learn. Any questions?”

  Fuller waited a few seconds. No one stepped forward. “Cadets, follow squad leader Hannaford and board the shuttle.

  At that point the semblance of military discipline evaporated and the group moved off towards the shuttle launch bay as if to a picnic, Felicity Hannaford leading. Fuller called out to the group, stopping it in its tracks.

  “Cadets, your performance today will determine promotions within your group. I will be watching you closely. Carry on.” The group immediately smartened up.

  They reached the Skyhook transport bay where a sleek, round nosed tube awaited, straddling the horizontal approach rail of the sky tram. Fuller always stopped for a moment whenever he saw this. He likened it to a giant toothpaste tube. But what the heck, it got the job done.

  Unlike the earlier generation of Space Shuttles that had flown their last mission way back in 2011, this new mode of orbital entry did not use huge reaction mass rockets and boosters. It was simply a tram-car into space, and used the Skyhook project as it’s final launch platform, incorporating small, but effective, reaction mass engines, for free space flight.

  The 27,000 mile long, or high as you look at it, Skyhook is a mono layer, mono filament, constant diameter carbon fiber tube extended from the Goddard Space Center to a gravity neutral point 27,000 miles in orbit, a geo-stationary point where major gravitational influences of sun, moon and planets cancel each other out, leaving only the gravitational pull of Earth itself to overcome. A counter mass, actually a tourist space restaurant, attached to the space end of the Skyhook keeps the tube taut and extended, just like a child whirling a weighted string around its head. Thrusters on the counterweight make constant minor adjustments allowing for spurious gravitational effects on the imperfect physicality of the structure. The forces involved in this edifice were so great that the added stresses of a space transport propelling itself up the apparently solid tube made little difference to the structural integrity of the Skyhook. Take away the counter weight and the structure would collapse like a nylon stocking without a leg in it. Once deployed and firmly extended, induction magnet cabling was attached to the inside of the tube without compromising the mono layer. A monatomic bond glue was used for this purpose, with constant vigilance and maintenance the order of the day. A controlled magnetic induction sequence would then propel the permanent rare earth transport magnets to the 27,000 mile destination in around one and a quarter hours of one gee acceleration/deceleration. The return simply used earth gravity and regenerative induction braking, returning some of the energy back to the system.