Zein: The Prophecy Page 23

  ‘First Officer, what is the report?’

  ‘All missile tubes are open and all 24 Trident II D-5 missiles are armed and ready to launch,’ said the commanding figure of the First Officer.

  ‘All!’ the Captain said, horrified. ‘What coordinates are they locked onto?’ he demanded. No answer came back…‘I said, where are the nuclear weapons targeted?’ emphasised the Captain, annoyed.

  ‘Sir…’ It was the First Officer, his voice strained, ‘Every major city in the United States including New York, Los Angeles, Washington, Boston, San Francisco, San Diego….’ The Captain held up a hand to stop the list of cities. He sat down in his chair stunned. The First Office lapsed into silence

  ‘Can we reprogramme them, Lieutenant Michaels?’ he asked the young engineer who at this point was furiously trying to make his controls do his bidding.

  ‘No, Sir, we have no access to the programme and the override is…well…overridden by someone else.’

  ‘Summary, First Officer?’ the Captain said.

  ‘Sir, we have no control over the missiles’ direction, launch and detonation.’ Silence descended on the bridge.

  Captain Grenoble sighed; in the pit of his stomach bile churned, ‘Lieutenant Grayling, please connect me to the Pentagon.’

  On HMS Vengeance, somewhere in the Pacific, Commander Waldo Peck was going through the normal daily schedule. He was proud of his Vanguard-class submarine. The sixteen Trident II D-5 submarine-launched ballistic missiles gave it a meaningful punch and deterrence to any aggression to the United Kingdom or any NATO countries. Although proud of his submarine and crew he dreaded the day he received a command to fire from the CTF 345 operations room at the Northwood Headquarters facility in Hertfordshire. This was the only place that was authorised to communicate with him when on patrol. He wondered how the Prime Minister would feel giving such an order, whilst probably locked away in the Pindar command bunker under Whitehall in Central London.

  The alarms indicating imminent launch of one or more of those missiles shook him to the core. ‘Lieutenant Manning.’ He turned to his most experienced officer, ‘What is happening, there is no drill today?’ he asked.

  ‘Not sure, Captain.’

  ‘The missile doors are opening,’ one of the junior officers said, his voice rising with concern.

  The Captain was off his seat over the young officer’s shoulder. ‘Is this a malfunction?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘No, Sir, the missiles are being armed and…and…’ the officer stuttered, he looked up at the Captain with a scared look, ‘they are targeted on London.’ It wasn’t long before Captain Peck was contacting his superiors.

  In Washington, the United Nations Security Council (UNSC), one of the six principal organs of the United Nations and charged with the maintenance of international peace and security, was meeting primarily to discuss the astonishing events in Manchester. The meeting had been planned for some months and its purpose had been directly altered to review the initial findings of the horror that unfolded in the United Kingdom. Its powers, outlined in the United Nations Charter, include the establishment of peacekeeping operations, the establishment of international sanctions, and the authorisation of military action. Its powers exercised through United Nations Security Resolutions.

  At any one time there are fifteen members of the Security Council. This includes five veto-wielding permanent members—China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States—based on the great powers that were the victors of World War II. There are also ten non-permanent members, with five elected each year to serve two-year terms. Due to the extraordinary events and historically a first, other heads of state had been invited to attend from other economically strong countries including Germany, India, Italy, Spain, Canada and Japan. This was just simply too big an event to be concerned with protocol.

  Prime Minister Michael Dunstable was briefing the other leaders. A member of his team was Walter Moore, who had found out even more astonishing information since the cabinet meeting. It was to him that Dunstable turned to.

  Walter was incredibly nervous to talk in front of the most powerful nations in the world. Once he had started though his energy, intelligence and commitment to the diagnosis took over. Dunstable sat back in the chair and listened to the scientist and watched the reaction of the other heads of state. A number had already had a private briefing, for others this was the first time they had seen or heard this new astonishing information. Walter concluded the section that he had covered at Downing Street and sat down as questions came flying in from the other leaders to Dunstable.

  ‘Please, please, I will answer your questions as best as I can, however, Mr Moore has some other facts he would like to share with you.’ He waved his hand, directing the scientist to continue.

  Well here goes…he thought. Walter asked his assistant to put up another slide. On the screen there was a wristwatch type strap. In the picture it was enlarged and they could make out the time and day which coordinated with the time and day of the football game.

  ‘This item was ripped from one of the injured attackers. It appears to be used to programme the soldier for moving between places without assistance of any physical transport.’ He stopped as a question came in from the Chinese premier. He waited for the translation through his ear piece.

  ‘Are you saying that they are using time travel?’

  Walter smiled; he was trying not to come across like a teacher attempting to explain a difficult subject to a child who just wasn’t listening.

  ‘No, not time travel but some kind of teleportation device that can transfer a hard object from one place to another via a gate or portal.’ There were gasps from those who had not received the private briefing beforehand. The Prime Minister motioned for Walter to take his seat and allow time for questions. Walter was in his element and ignored the gesture, much to Dunstable’s chagrin. ‘I also need to inform you that they use it as a retrieval device when a soldier is injured or killed. Their technology is so much more advanced than ours,’ Walter finished passionately. The Prime Minister stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder easing him back down to his seat.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Moore. Does anyone have any questions?’

  ‘Why show their hand now?’ asked the Canadian Prime Minister. Dunstable was just going to reply when an aide began to speak urgently into the US President’s ear. The look of shock on a face that was usually inscrutable set him aback. The President rose to excuse his presence from the meeting, another aide whispered something into the Russian Prime Minister’s ear and he in turn let out a loud curse. The curse stopped the US President in his tracks.

  ‘Prime Minister,’ it was his security officer from M16, ‘we have some disturbing news. Our Trident submarines are compromised, and we need to leave now.’ All around the room similar stories were being relayed to the nuclear powers. It was quite apparent that all heads of states were receiving disturbing news from their command and control centres.

  Walter Moore was watching the events unfold. He had spent nearly every waking moment looking into the alien race. He was provided with everything which the government held or recorded and he had become increasingly concerned about what the Earth was facing.

  Such technology!

  If they acted with the technology they had, he and the rest of mankind had little chance. He saw the aide whisper into the Prime Minister’s ear and saw the face register surprise.

  He felt a sickness of fear hit him like a train.

  He had got on well with the Prime Minister although they had their disagreements, Walter thought his other findings needed to be shared around the world, Dunstable just wanted to use the information as leverage. He just didn’t get it that what was happening was easily the single biggest threat the Earth had ever faced, even bigger than the extinction of the dinosaurs. At least that was nature and not an artificially created threat.

  There was a loud pop. Walter looked on with trepidation. Surrounding the circular d
esk arrangement there appeared many soldiers, around fifty. Their faces were partially covered up with masks. Some of the men grabbed each of the principal men and women in the room. Next to him there was a flash of gold and the aide who had been speaking to Dunstable collapsed onto him. He felt a warm liquid splash onto his face and he automatically wiped it off. He looked at his hand to see what it was. Blood…He felt faint and the room began to spin. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Dunstable grabbed by two men who then triggered the devices on their wrists and dissipated into the air. All around, the soldiers who had grabbed the heads of state began to teleport as the other soldiers fought with the aides and bodyguards. As quickly as they came they left, leaving a number dead and the most powerful nations leaderless.

  Simultaneously, all around the world, communications ceased. Mobile phones, television programmes, telecom networks, stock exchanges…all screens went blank. An hour later there was a white line and then a picture materialised on every radio station, television programme and news feed. On the screen was a black and red cloaked figure, seated on a throne in a great hall. He stood up and walked towards the camera facing him, which was patched into every satellite, every network system in the world. What he said chilled even the hardest hearts.

  ‘People of Earth, I am Zylar, Emperor of Zein and Earth. You have a phrase on Earth in your movie pictures, something which says “I come in peace”…I have to inform you that I don’t bring peace. I bring fear, death and destruction.’ Zylar looked directly at the miniaturised camera that his technician held in front of him, revelling in the moment Zein conquered Earth. ‘I have the leaders of your most powerful nations.’ The camera panned across the faces of the ten men and three women he held captive. He continued, ‘Shortly I will have a little demonstration of how weak and futile you human beings are. I have control of all nuclear weapons and have targeted your own missiles at your major cities.’ Zylar was enjoying the moment.

  ‘I will not hesitate to launch unless I have complete surrender of all countries on Earth.’ All around the world, the news didn’t sink in completely; they were enthralled by the pictures they were seeing. Later in the day, panic would take over as the reality hit the citizens of Earth. At the moment it felt like one of the many reality television programmes that pitted men and women against each other for the sake of ratings.

  The events had left the leaders bewildered at their predicament. When they had recovered from the transportation they had quickly been taken to these strange surroundings. Their hands were bound with steel manacles in front of their bodies. The imposing figure, who they now knew was called Zylar, had ignored them until now. The leaders were no shrinking violets; they hadn’t reached high office without guts and determination. A few, the leaders of the governments of the US, France, India and Brazil, had even served in the armed forces. The turn of events, however, had made reality difficult to grasp.

  ‘Bring me one of the males,’ Zylar ordered one of the Ilsid. The soldiers marched to the prisoners and selected a man. It was Michael Dunstable. In the Cabinet Office, in the streets of every city, town and village in the United Kingdom where there was a television there was a sense of disbelief. Politics, nationalism, race, gender – all were irrelevant – focus was on the nervous figure of the youngest Prime Minister the United Kingdom had ever voted into office.

  ‘Now, you seem like a relatively athletic young man?’ Zylar asked.

  ‘What do you require from Earth? We are willing to talk,’ said Dunstable, keeping his tone even and reasonable; just like he had been taught in all the hostage training courses he had attended. ‘There is no need for loss of life, it is a great event that two different cultures from two different planets can join together to learn from each other,’ he said, hoping to connect with the man in front of him. ‘I have two children aged six and four and it would be incredible if they can grow up with the young people from your planet.’

  His wife, Sarah, watched from their living room in Number 10 Downing Street. She had sent the children to their rooms and was now with her mother and father watching with growing concern at her husband’s predicament. The next words chilled not only her heart but those of the billions watching.

  ‘My young human, I have no interest in joining with you Earthlings, I have no issue with bringing death. For your children I want to make life so bleak that they will bow down before me.’ The last words were said forcefully and he appeared to grow in fierceness and Dunstable stepped back in fear. Zylar motioned to one of his soldiers, who stepped forward and brought out his seckle. Dunstable brought his hands up to defend himself; he had undertaken ju-jitsu to a high standard when he was younger. The soldier did not strike him but handed the weapon to him. Dunstable took it into his right hand, looking at the wicked blades.

  ‘You are a leader of your people are you not?’

  ‘Yes I am, of the United Kingdom.’ Dunstable was quivering inside but all his training made him look confident and sure footed.

  ‘Are you willing to fight for them?’ Zylar asked, beginning to circle Dunstable. ‘If you beat me, human, even draw blood, I will let your planet go free. There will be, what you call it, no further loss of life,’ he said, further adding, ‘If you don’t want to fight for your children and people then you can simply sit down.’ Zylar motioned back to where the other prisoners sat.

  In Washington, Walter Moore said under his breath, ‘Don’t take up the challenge, Michael.’ Dunstable looked at the weapon in his hand and then the faces of the other prisoners. They all reflected his dilemma. He was a proud man and here was a chance to end this now. His face tightened and his breathing lowered. He had made his decision.

  He stood to his full height, still significantly smaller than the man in front of him. His head came up and his determination was written on his face.

  ‘No, Michael, no,’ his wife shouted at the television. Michael of course could not hear this cry and even if he could have he was not going to back down. He never backed down from a fight.

  ‘Mr Zylar, I am not afraid of you and if one man standing up to you can stop this madness then I am that man,’ said Dunstable proudly.

  ‘Right, human, let’s see what you have got.’ The Ilsid soldier unlocked the manacles from Dunstable’s wrists. Zylar produced two elaborately carved seckles which he then preceded to toss between his hands, like a juggler. Dunstable had good balance due to his ju-jitsu skills and launched a quick attack using the unfamiliar weapon in his hands. Zylar easily sidestepped the attack. Dunstable controlled his breathing and watched carefully the sway of the big man’s body. Zylar made his first move and brought one seckle down from head height and the other seckle in from the left. Dunstable saw the blow coming down at him and easily blocked it, the seckle from the left just missed. Dunstable launched another attack, which Zylar again easily avoided.

  ‘He is playing with you, Michael,’ muttered Walter to no one in particular. In Washington they were removing the dead and injured from the building.

  Zylar was becoming bored. He could see the human was not without some skills and determination; however, this in the end was a lesson, a lesson that needed to be given. He moved in for the kill. He turned his body sideways. His left arm made a feint, which Dunstable followed with his seckle. With his seckle poorly positioned he couldn’t stop Zylar’s right held seckle getting through his defences and cutting him deeply in his stomach. Dunstable’s left hand clasped the cut as blood poured out of it. Zylar watched dispassionately as Dunstable collapsed to one knee, the seckle dropping from his grasp. Zylar grabbed hold of Dunstable’s thick hair and pointed his victim’s head at the camera. Millions of people turned their heads away from the screen correctly guessing what was going to happen next. Zylar sliced open Dunstable’s neck from left to right, and then tossed the twitching body to one side. In a house in Downing Street a piercing scream of anguish echoed hauntingly

  ‘I want one in every one hundred of your men aged between eighteen and thirty-five to joi
n my army. I have no interest in how you do this selection but I have all the information to know if you don’t. This is not negotiable. You have six hours to midnight tonight to surrender and meet my terms or I will level your cities,’ Zylar said. Around the world there was a collective intake of breath. ‘And just in case you feel I am bluffing, watch this.’ In the bunker General Chad, who was watching the events in the Southern Quadrant, stood over the shoulder of one of the operators and pointed to a city.

  On the USS Louisiana, Captain Chuck Grenoble and his crew watched in horror as two trident missiles launched. The pictures showed the launch of the missiles and then followed them.

  In New York, Josh Mulligan was walking on Fifth Avenue. His girlfriend, Amber, was shopping at Abercrombie and Fitch and they had agreed to meet up there. He nearly barged into the woman in front of him, who had stopped in her tracks.

  ‘Hey, watch what you are doing…’ He tailed off as all around him people had stopped and were watching something on their phones. There was an electronics store further down Fifth Avenue and people were crowded around it looking at the televisions within. He glanced at the woman’s phone as he swerved around her and saw an odd-looking man talking and then a picture of missiles being launched. He couldn’t hear as the phone owner had her earplugs in. In the pit of his stomach fear began to rise up as a look of horror began to spread across the woman’s face as New York came into the picture, the skyline unmistakable.

  He broke into a run towards the store; he saw Amber in front of the door and tried to catch her attention. She wasn’t looking at him as her head was tilted upwards looking at the sky. He followed her gaze and saw nothing at first and then two specks appeared in the distance.

  What the…?

  The two objects were travelling at an incredible speed and as they came nearer people began to scream as it dawned on them what the two objects were. Terror took hold with its suffocating vice-like grip. Josh had only one objective, to get to Amber. He pushed through the people running to a misconceived safe area. He just wanted to hold Amber one last time. He reached her and grabbed hold of her. Her face, petrified and strained, looked at his. He kissed her and held her close. When the missiles hit Josh and Amber took comfort in each other.