Magestic 3

by Geoff Wolak

‘You fucking sort them out,’ was all he said.

  I glanced at Henry as we sat in his office. ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘I think the dear Admiral has no love of political paymasters,’ Henry quipped. I had a copy of the President’s conversation with the Admiral sent to all US Navy commanders. They stopped calling me.

  Not much football was being played, so I used a large factory as an indoor pitch and organised games of five-a-side or seven-a-side of an evening. Sliding tackles were out, and the ball bounced higher, but the players still got some time in. Heading back for Susan and the boys, I was now busy with plans and supplies for the sailors. The poor tired-out crew who had been on Antarctica were now on the Azores, the first micro portal opened on a side of the airport. With all tests done, the portal was opened, US Marines stepping through. Just six made that first journey, Admiral Forrestor soon called to the airfield – he did not live far – and a ramp was fitted to the portal. Solar powered cars drove through, thirty of them, all parked in a line and inspected at length. Each had supplies in the back, mostly booze.

  Those cars were followed by the odd little trucks that we used with portals, and twenty trucks passing through. With their cargos offloaded, with military proficiency, the trucks returned to fetch more goodies. That procession continued day and night, till a wall of boxes had been stacked up around the edge of that part of the airfield. Drugs had been delivered - thousands of vials, blankets, replacement uniforms, tinned meat, fresh fruit, soda and chocolate, the works. Ten tonnes of canned beer were delivered the following day, all put under lock and key by the Admiral, and were followed by spares necessary for ships’ electronics from that era. Since the ships from 1938-world were roughly the same age in technology we had plenty of spares, and 1984-world had managed to find much just sat in Navy warehouses.

  Welding sets and gas arrived, metal cutters, plasma cutters from the future, plastic panels and glass suitable for a ship’s port hole. Av-gas was trucked across, soon to fuel an old helicopter or two. Oddly enough, I shipped them M16 rifles and plenty of ammo, just to put them at ease about us.

  When I enquired about oil, they said they had more than enough, which was odd. An aerial scan of the island revealed no less than eight huge oil tankers moored together, all pinched off the high seas after the war. They did indeed have more than enough. I sent petrol for their cars, and for the motors of small craft. Figuring that they had a farming community, I sent through hundreds of pigs and chickens in a repeat move of that seen here with the Seether.

  With a list of spares in hand, the various navies sent through a few large items on trucks, the kinds of bits of kit that could get an old tub moving again. Those trucks were followed by sixty tonnes of grey paint, Naval grey, and a few brushes; the ratings about to be gainfully employed, only not all of them. Sixty men appeared at the portal in handcuffs, and were shoved through at gunpoint, as were a few local Portuguese descendants. All was not well in the colony.

  I immediately had the deported men interviewed on 1938-world. Reports came back of a harsh regime - no surprises there, and of a wish by some to leave the islands and find other humans. That wish to leave was being blocked by Forrester, who wished everyone to remain – and to play nicely in his utopia.

  Another two hundred men were shoved through that day, all with similar stories, but some were just criminals; they had stolen a chicken or two. Admiral Forrestor had emptied the jail, and that would save him some resources. In an agreement I made with him, he allowed four hundred naval ratings to leave, the men wanting to leave - and their officers wanting them gone. Many displayed bruises on their faces.

  Those men were soon on TV in my world, lambasting the Admiral and his policies, the good Admiral not receiving a very good press over here. But the men all agreed that it was not just the Admiral, and that many of the officers and NCOs enforced the law, and that most men on the islands agreed with policy. My idea, that of killing the Admiral, was shelved.

  As supplies continued to pour through to them the naval ratings got used to good food, beer, and all now smelt of paint – having been given something to do. Risking it, I dispatched a Naval MASH unit, and they set-up on the airport tarmac, soon straightening broken legs. Forrestor tolerated them, and had an ingrown toenail removed himself. Inside of four days the medics had operated on sixty people, and delivered twenty babies, some in outlying areas.

  When a surgeon returned to 1938-world, I linked into him. ‘What’s the rest of the island like? The people?’

  ‘They’re well fed - not malnourished, the streets are clean, cars are clean, beaches are clean as well,’ he reported. ‘Kids smile and play, women dry clothes on lines; I’d not say that they had suffered any. And as for the prisoners that were expelled, most admitted to either theft or … even rape.’

  ‘Seems like a well-run society,’ I noted.

  ‘As far as we can see, yes. They look after the kids, especially the girls, but there is pressure on the women to produce many kids.’

  ‘Can’t blame them for that, they thought mankind extinct!’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But they’re all taught Christian beliefs, and to look down on blacks, Arabs, Jews. They … get blamed for the war.’

  ‘Got news for you mate, there’re a few people like that everywhere! Try a high school in Texas.’

  ‘A few of us have volunteered to stay a while, and the locals seem friendly enough. They had doctors and surgeons originally, but lost much of the skill over the years. No colleges.’

  ‘What are educational standards like?’

  ‘Good up until around fourteen, when they start to learn how to farm.’

  ‘Necessity; a kid learning history won’t grow any crops.’

  ‘Most books were destroyed anyway, only certain ones left,’ the doctor reported.

  ‘Good luck. And thanks.’

  The supplies continued to arrive at the airfield, more than enough to give the islanders a good feeling about us, and a group of doctors remained, housed in a nice villa with a sea view, a white sandy beach below them.

  Two weeks later, as I packed ready to return to Seether, two ships set sail from the colony on the Azores, bound for Bermuda to have a look around.

  Arriving back at the embassy, Henry was concerned. ‘We found two submarines in the Pacific, a colony of sailors just like the others, the Marshall Islands. And the subs are nuclear armed, confirmed missiles still sat in tubes – six of them.’

  ‘Have drones placed overhead, and try and destroy the missiles by igniting the fuel,’ I suggested.

  ‘That may roast the families living below.’

  ‘Ah.’ I sat, suddenly deep in thought. ‘Hit them with EMPs, several times, just in case, and make contact.’ Lifting my head, I asked, ‘Any others?’

  ‘None that we could detect, and we’ve checked all of the islands. There are plenty of isolated aboriginal colonies around New Guinea, little more than twenty or thirty people. And they appear to be quite feral.’

  ‘Leave them for now.’

  The subs were duly hit with EMPs, many times, and two drones patrolled overhead. Still, after seventy years we figured the missiles wouldn’t work. A drone landed right on the deck of one of the subs, kids running around half naked.

  I found myself saying, ‘Go get your parents. And … put some clothes on.’

  ‘Shto?’ was heard.

  ‘Par Ruski?’ I shouted.

  ‘Da!’ came from a girl. Russians.

  A man appeared on deck, and puzzled the drone.

  In Russian, I said, ‘My name is Paul Holton, and I am from the future. We have travelled back to help you, and offer you evacuation to our world.’

  The man stared at the drone, then threw it into the water, telemetry lost.

  ‘Well, that went well,’ I said to Henry.

  ‘There are twenty eight of them,’ Henry pointed out.

  ‘Then we’ll leave them for now.’

  ‘And the subs are leaking radiation, so … tw
enty eight that won’t survive too long.’

  I heaved a sigh. ‘Now that we know about the radiation we can’t leave them. I’ll send a note to Jimmy, and he can grab them at some point.’

  ‘I’m surprisedthat they don’t all have three eyes already,’ Henry quipped. ‘After seventy years of radiation.’

  I found myself nodding.

  Splice the main brace

  In the weeks that followed, Admiral Forrestor and his cronies expelled around twenty men every other day, the deportees always trussed up, and always bruised. Seems that if you asked to leave you were given a good kicking, and the Admiral’s popularity rating on other worlds was just about zero. Or so I thought. Jimmy had a sneaky plan, which he kept hidden.

  The supplies kept arriving on the Azores, life now bearable for the sailors and civilians, but it had not been too bad before. The children had been schooled, and they were polite and respectful, crime very low. I didn’t take Forrestor’s side, but at poker night I pointed towards the other human colonies, and how they had turned out.

  But at poker night, someone raised a valid question. How come the Antarctic colony had not picked up radio messages used by the sailors? I sent Jimmy the question. It seems that the sailors feared the enemy, i.e. the Russians or Chinese, picking up any radio broadcasts, and so had maintained radio silence. Since the sailors had not put to sea for any long journeys for many years – and might have utilised their radios to call home, the colony on Antarctica felt they were alone. Still, I was curious. I linked to Administrator Peck in his cell in Holland.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll check my busy social schedule,’ he quipped, now looking thinner, and displaying more hair than I remembered.

  I laughed. ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘So what can I do for you, exactly?’ he testily enquired.

  ‘We found a group of American sailors, alive and well, and living on the Azores -’

  He lowered his head. ‘Yes, I knew about them.’

  ‘But kept it from your people…?’

  He nodded. ‘Those before me felt that it would do no good to get peoples’ hope up. We could have walked to the coast at certain times of the year, and they might have got a ship to us, but we would have been … under their control. Being scientists, we had no desire for military domination.’

  ‘Anyone else over here that you know about?’

  ‘We found a few signals over the years, isolated communities with a short-wave radio, but no one was about to come fetch us. And then there was the fear about the virus itself, so … we stayed put.’

  ‘How do you fill your days?’ I asked.

  ‘I read, or watch movies. I’ve watched the story of Mister Silo a few times, and I read the books - all twelve volumes, and I feel like a small man, a very small man. What you achieved, what you built…’ He shook his head.

  ‘If you recognise that you are a small man, then you just grew a bit. If you’re injected, you’ll live forever, and someday be out of prison, so give that some thought. Study something, and when you are out you can make a difference; do some good. It’s never too late, and your record can be improved.’

  ‘Inspiring words, and you may be right. How are the Seether?’

  ‘Coming along slowly. We have them playing football, and they love it; it’s breaking down social barriers.’

  ‘Perhaps they’ll make a better job of it that we did,’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘They couldn’t do any worse, that’s for sure.’

  After the call, I stared out of the window at the snow covered grounds, my hands in my pockets. Looking up at angry grey clouds racing across the sky, I started to think about those stealth ships. They were on their way, and inside a year would enter orbit or land, and then … then what? Were they coming to pick-up Slumber? No, he had his own ride. Were they coming to check up on his progress, no postcards sent home? Would they scan Antarctica and find it empty, and then … would they come here? I was sure that we’d have defences in place and, as Jimmy kept assuring me, these were spies being placed, not soldiers or bomber aircraft.

  ‘Spies in the mix,’ I found myself saying, my breath misting the window glass.

  I stepped into Henry’s office and sat. I usually never knocked, I just walked in and sat. Henry would finish what he was doing, and wait patiently for me to say something. Now I sat waiting, and Henry put down his pen. ‘Those three ships, they’ll find Antarctica abandoned.’

  ‘And, having come so far, will not simply turn around,’ Henry pointed out.

  ‘No, they’ll spot us here from orbit,’ I said, staring at the cold windows.

  ‘And land nearby, assume an identity, and have a good look. Still, I doubt that even a master chameleon of an alien could reproduce your annoying habits.’ I smiled widely. ‘So I will not lose any sleep worrying that you have been replaced.’

  ‘We need to make plans.’

  ‘I am sure, if not certain, that Mister Silo and a great many others are doing just that – day and night.’

  ‘This is our remit. Do we want to be led around, or set the pace?’ I posed.

  Henry eased back. ‘Well, I say we should – at the very least – have our own plans.’

  ‘OK, we know they’re coming. They find Antarctica abandoned, and no sign of that ship in this dimension.’

  ‘Can their ships go to another dimension?’

  ‘No, the egg-heads say definitely not. So, having found nobody home, they must have a secondary mission, which may be what Jimmy suggested -’

  ‘And interfere with Seethan development,’ Henry cut in with. ‘And, seeing us sat here – assisting Seethan development – they would have a new mission priority, namely to dispose of us.’

  ‘Or discredit us in the eyes of the Seether,’ I suggested.

  ‘Take human form … and kill the President.’

  ‘Now that … worries me.’

  ‘As it should,’ Henry pointed out.

  ‘So, we can’t let them land.’

  ‘An aggressive first move? Maybe they’re coming to arrest Mister Slumber.’

  I shrugged. ‘The alternative is … disaster for us. But, if they see radar here, and missiles, they’ll just land far away and walk in.’

  ‘Then we need the radar and missiles hidden, and … possibly a trap set someplace else. Hopefully a long, long way off.’

  I grinned. ‘How about the Azores?’

  ‘The … Azores?’ Henry repeated. He nodded. ‘Yes, the base there would be investigated if they had radars working, a clear technological threat. The spies’ mission remit would probably be to infiltrate and … to disrupt.’

  ‘So we create a nice big target for them, and set a trap. But I reckon two might go there, one still coming here.’

  ‘One … is better than three. We may get lucky and spot the one.’

  I linked in to Jimmy. ‘Listen, I was thinking of setting a trap for the alien ships, and I was thinking of the Azores.’

  ‘Well done, you win a cookie.’

  ‘That was your idea as well?’

  ‘Where else could you set a trap? When the time comes we’ll have an active portal on the Azores, Manson shut down, and we’ll create a huge EM rainbow. And, Admiral Forrestor gets something to prepare for – with our assistance, and some thanks afterwards. As part of that assistance we’ll send a thousand officers and men.’

  ‘Who will change attitudes some,’ I added. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  ‘It will be implemented soon; those ships get here in seven months, or just under.’

  ‘Any news from your old world?’

  ‘They took receipt of that ship, and all had brain sex. They had already come up with a similar ship, apparently, and were then able to compare notes. Around thirty thousand people worked on that ship for two years before we got the next signal, and now they’ve built one of their own.’

  ‘We have one? Like that?’

  ‘Yes, only better. Sixteen
years have passed, but they’re in no hurry. They were working towards a theoretical ship, and Slumber’s ship was not so different. The Ebede kids have a metal skin that absorbs energy and … well, absorbs it and uses it, basically solar panels reworked.’

  ‘Weapons?’

  ‘They now have missiles that fly very fast and very high, rail-guns, lasers, neutron cannon.’

  ‘Neutron cannon?’ I queried.

  ‘It’s large, expensive, but it’ll blow the crap out of a satellite in orbit. They fired it at the Moon and blew up a dust cloud. Moon now has a new crater.’

  ‘Bloody vandals,’ I quipped. ‘Listen, we figured that they’ll try and land, infiltrate us, and maybe … look like a human when they blow the President’s nuts off.’

  ‘Yep, sounds about right.’

  ‘If we miss one … it’ll be interesting for a while,’ I complained.

  ‘We have scanners that can check their insides. Slumber looks human, but his insides are different, so we’ll send you some, and you can scan people at random.’

  ‘That should help; stop them infiltrating the embassy.’

  ‘When they come out of hibernation in orbit they’ll be vulnerable,’ Jimmy assured me.

  ‘Can we get a scanner soon?’

  ‘Sure. Are you worried that Slumber wasn’t alone? There was no other ship found, and it would have been visible to his own ship.’

  ‘Can never be too careful,’ I quipped.

  ‘Indeed. I’ll send three over.’

  The scanners arrived a few days later, and we tested them by scanning all of the Marines and soldiers - whilst their colleagues kept weapons on their own. Everyone around the portal was scanned at least once, as well as the local Seether; police and minders. All were in the clear. One scanner would remain at the portal, checking everyone coming and going, one was dispatched to Preether, and the final one came back with me to the embassy. Set-up, everyone formed a long line and was duly checked in turn, followed by the Seethan minders and even Pleb. Now, anyone coming and going would be checked, and I slept better.

  What I hadn’t been informed of yet, was that Slumber had been the test model for a few things, and his sweat had been tested; an airport scanner now checked fingers for alien DNA. All military and government establishments now operated the scanners, and people were checked at random. Any senior figure off on holiday for a week and coming back would be checked, at gunpoint. Africa had embraced the scanners, and hundreds were now in use. It wasn’t just the contents of your luggage that was highlighted on a screen, it was now your beating heart.