Seven Veils of Wisdom – Bloc One – by P J Searle
Chapter Five

Premier Callahan sat with bowed head and spoke with guarded emotion into his open hand. He was engaged in private conversation with United States President, Douglas Caxton, via his twenty-twenty QuickVision implant. The mood in the crowded Government House, Canberra Australia, was sombre.

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‘Yes, I see, Mr. President…’ said Callahan. ‘Yes, I have a million objections, but they’ll keep – we don’t know how long we have chip-communication. Just so as you know, when this thing concludes, Douglas, it is going to cost the French half their bloody country! Yes, yes I’ll–’ He balked and listened for a moment, then continued, ‘Okay, okay… confirmative. I’ll convey that – you are beginning to fade – Yes yes, and you–’ He closed his hand; the link had broken. He considered for a few moments. At length he stood and addressed all the gathered dignitaries. ‘It would appear there has been a major catastrophic incident. One of the Honfleur missiles has fired and detonated over the Pacific Ocean.’

There were gasps from the house, over which angry voices called out, ‘God sake, sink it!’ – ‘We told you to sink the bugger!’ – ‘What kind of bomb was it?’

Callahan raised a hand for order, composed himself and then spoke in dreadful voice. ‘It was a very nasty bomb, designed to explode in the air and scatter a short life radioactive shroud over a hundred-square-mile area.’ The whole house leapt to its feet, all members shouting at once. Callahan called for order, over and over. Finally he smashed a hand on the table and continued, raising his voice over the din. ‘You’re not going to find out by shouting. Quiet! For Christ’s sake I’m the only one here who knows anything, so listen!’ They calmed slightly and took a breath and tried again. ‘The shroud has an effective life of just twenty-four hours, plus another twenty-four for dispersal – nothing is absorbed, in the soil nor anywhere else. It’s not called, Scythe for nothing. It is the most effective human-being slaying engine ever conceived–’

‘What’s being done to protect the east coast?’ – ‘Sink it!’ – ‘What retaliation contingency will be put in place?’

‘Nothing!’ yelled Callahan, raising his hand again, ‘This was not hostile! Nothing needs to be done. The danger passed almost immediately. I am informed that a tropical cyclone jumped from nowhere and took the cloud a thousand miles to sea. There is absolutely no danger.’

‘That was just one missile,’ the voice yelled again, ‘What about the rest?’

‘The Honfleur is now undergoing repairs and will be out of our waters by noon tomorrow.’ As Callahan started to sit the shouting started again and he was forced to remain standing.

‘What about the other missiles? Answer, you bludger! Answer!!’

‘Yes, the other missiles.’ Callahan grudgingly conceded. ‘The news on them is unchanged. That, however, is not the worst of it…’ he paused and there was a moment of stunned silence as they waited for the worst. ‘That was the Americans I just spoke to. President Caxton informed me they have a nuclear submarine down, just off Novaya Zemlya, with an almost identical scenario.’ These words were met with gasps of shock. Callahan surveyed the many staring, half-believing faces. ‘One off New Zealand, and now one off Novaya Zemlya… any one into coincidence theories?’ There was utter silence as the horror sank in. ‘We, ANZUT, have been invited to send a UN deputation to Zurich, to a special Star Chamber council. Two people… two from every member country. We have no alternative. Our team will be Mitzi Thompson and Lucas Manning, they’re already on their way. They will be there in four hours time.’

Caxton finally sat down. The whole house looked on in shocked silence.

Rees stood patiently watching Falstaff, awaiting orders. Walden sat idly in the Pegasus control-room, working an emergency hand-operated hydraulic-pump. His eyes were tightly closed as he theatrically pulled to the rhythmic beat pounding in his head – “Da daa, da… Da daa, da… Da daa, da da, da da, da daa!” He pulled harder, trying to match the rhythm of the muscular brute-of-a-man sitting in front of him pulling on a massive oar. A row of twenty or so of these same, long wooden oars dipped into the calm shallows in unison. Again the haunting air, “Da daa, da… Da daa, da… Da, daa, da da, da da, da daa!” Suddenly the boat shuddered as, Einar, son of Ragnar, ran along the ends of the extended oars.

‘Hey, Walden! You crazy old goat, what in hell you doing sitting with your goddam eyes shut?’

Rees’ words bit into the i-lobe rendering, leaving Kirk Douglas in limbo as The Vikings movie dissolved away. Walden opened his eyes. ‘I’m working, jackass, like you should be doing!’

‘Yeah, well pumping that thing ain’t doing no damn good. No one told you to do it.’

‘It is too! That’s what sailors throughout the history of sailing have done; when your ship’s in trouble, you bail out! Didn’t you know that, Rees? Didn’t they teach you nothin’ at Navy School?’

‘I thought that was Airforce. You got your services mixed up. Anyways, I’m here for my expertise, not my, more than adequate, brawn – “best sparks on the ship”, captain’s own words remember? See, I think things out… when I do a job, I do it with my eyes wide open. That way I don’t fuck up!’

‘Bull,shit! You never fuck up because you don’t never do nothing, you lazy bum! And when you do–’ A sudden shudder through the ship interrupted the puerile conversation and prompted their attention.

‘She’s on the bottom, Captain,’ said Walden, stating the obvious.

‘Okay, and stop that pumping, it’s doing no good.’ Rees shot Walden an, I told you so, look. Falstaff continued. ‘But we do have to do everything manually,’ Walden gave Rees a satisfied sneer. ‘If… I can have your attention!’ said Falstaff giving them both a damning look, ‘we have to break into the rocket silo and physically disable every missile. If we can do that I’ll scuttle the Mare.’

‘Not possible, Captain,’ Said Walden, ‘she won’t let you do it.’

Falstaff rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus, “I have knaves I cannot rule”.’

Rees smiled, ‘Hey that’s good, Boss. That’s what the skipper of the Mary Rose said, just before it sunk.’

‘Yeah, well we’re sunk already, Rees,’ said Walden, ‘Just in case you’d forgotten. I don’t believe we can–’

‘Well you better believe it, Walden.’ interrupted Falstaff, with a look that left no room for argument.

Walden shrugged, then pinched his eyes closed for a moment, and then opened them again. ‘Hey, I think we’ve got onboard intercom, Sir. Shall I try from another compartment.’ Falstaff took out his neck chip and nodded. Rees did the same. Walden made his way to the docking compartment and shut the metal hatch.

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