Part Two: Holocaust

Chapter 04

Bristol City Centre, United Kingdom.

September 23rd.

Old sirens, unused for over a century, suddenly began wailing as the warning was sent out of the impending nuclear blasts. The city had not prepared for the onslaught; indeed the city had not even been informed by either Parliament or the armed services that an attack of this magnitude would even be a likelihood, and panic was widespread. There were people running around mindlessly, some diving into buildings in the hope that they would remain standing, others were just screaming while standing in the same spot as if that would change their fate. Many were just running around, trying not to look at the sky in the hope that they would save themselves by not doing so.

Simon Mensar had more sense than that.

His immediate destination was the centre’s council houses, used as a museum as far as the public were concerned, but it also contained a nuclear shelter for government staff, built ten years previously by the then Prime Minister, in response to a potential threat by the North Koreans who had taken over the south. The shelter would be sufficient against an indirect nuclear attack, though if a warhead impacted directly with the ground where the council buildings lay, all in the shelter would perish.

That was a risk Simon was willing to take, and a damn sight more promising than waiting for the bombs to hit out here.

He ran across the road, almost being hit by an idiot in his boy racer two-door sports hatchback. That one probably thought the speed of the thing would carry him to safety, and never paid any mind to the congestion of all the other drivers hoping to do the same. Simon ran on toward the council building, just as the sirens ceased, thankful that he was not a victim to such stupidity.

Time was running out.

He banged on the door, which was immediately answered by an armed guard.

“State your name and business!” the guard snapped out.

Simon's response was immediate as he pulled out his wallet and presented his identity card. “Commander Simon Mensar, attached to government Intelligence.”

The guard ushered him inside the building. “Very well sir, step this way to the lift shaft,” he added as he led Simon to a small doorway. As Simon slipped through it, he then noticed another door, metallic, and very heavy if the hum of the motors that were opening it gave any indication. “Hold on to the rail sir,” the guard told Simon, who did as asked now that they were in a small room with bars around the sides. The door closed on them once more, and the lift began to descend, quickly.

The bomb hit, and the devastation was widespread. As the explosion spread outward from the point of impact, houses, forestry, plants, roads, structures and people burned to a crisp. Then as the blast wave spread out, those same people and things were all swept away by hurricane force winds in excess of 300 miles an hour. The bomb was so powerful that little was left standing for fifty miles. People within the city itself died instantly, and most of those that had taken shelter in buildings to escape the disaster would be condemned to a slow and torturous death. Outlying suburbs and rural areas were levelled within minutes as the blast wave continued on its’ outward bound path, like the ripples of a raindrop in calm water.

Simon was relieved that the impact wasn’t a direct hit. The lift proceeded to the levels below, which seemed by now to be reaching in to the hundreds of metres below ground. As the lift stopped at the bottom, the door opened and another guard presented himself.

“What’s the situation?” he asked the guard already in the lift.

“This is Commander Mensar, Government Intelligence,” the guard in the lift replied. “Where’s Councillor Smith?”

“I’m right by you, men,” another voice replied. “Who have you brought with you?”

“Commander Simon Mensar, from London,” Simon told the man who had just appeared.

“Councillor Terry Smith, Bristol Central,” replied the man.

What’s left of it, Simon thought to himself. “Shall we get inside, I need to establish a link with London as soon as possible.”

“EMP would have shut down communications for a while sir,” one of the guards said.

Simon was also an electronics specialist as well as a government advisor. “I know how to get the system running again.”

“Very well, step this way,” the Councillor told Simon, who followed the councillor to the bunker’s communications facility.

Over the next six weeks, Simon was sealed in the bunker with two hundred and fifty other people, and enough facilities to support them all for as long as three months. During this time, he had been able to gauge the personalities of all the people inside, and their individual fears. For the most part, many of the assistants to the government officials were strong and resilient, while the officials themselves didn’t have any backbone whatsoever.

There were a few exceptions to both rules. An assistant to Councillor Smith, a burly man who would only name himself as Carl, constantly moaned that they would all die in the shelter, while the Councillor himself was constantly planning contingencies, and even taking part in some of the drudgery that was involved in maintaining the facility during the crisis.

The final day of their containment came when a weekly test confirmed that radiation levels outside the shelter were low enough to be deemed safe. It was decided to send an expedition to the surface, to assess the extent of the damage.

Simon was one of those who volunteered to return to the surface. Councillor Smith was outvoted on his volunteering to join the expedition, and although Carl was asked, he declined to leave. In the end, Simon was joined by two of the councillor’s assistants, and six armed soldiers. Their task was to retrieve information about the condition of the surface, as well as determine if anything above was salvageable.

The impact point of the warhead was determined a few weeks earlier, in the area between Bath and Bristol. On the one hand, the radioactive fallout would be greatly reduced, and the likelihood of supplies being found was increased, but on the other hand, there would be more rubble to shift through. In any event, the shelter population would have to shift to the surface in a short amount of time, so an expedition was prudent.

Simon found that he worked best with the two guards whom he had met on arriving at the bunker six weeks before. The trio decided to explore in the direction of the waterfront within the city centre ruins.

It was during this exploratory phase, that they encountered trouble. A sickened man, poisoned by nuclear fallout, collapsed out in front of them. Instantly, all three were on their guard, one of the marines stepping in front of Simon as if to protect him from the wasted man.

“Stand aside soldier,” Simon told the marine.

The man, his body marked with sores that oozed infected puss, his clothes dirtied and torn, reached upward from the round, straining heavily in his weakened condition, trying to reach one of the men. “Help- me,” he gasped.

“He needs a medic,” one of the guards said.

“He’s too far gone for a medic now,” Simon replied. “He will die out here.”

“Let’s end his suffering,” the other guard said with a sigh, taking out his pistol and firing two rounds into the dying man's head. Mercifully, he did not even cry out.

Simon had never seen a man kill another in such a way, even during his service overseas. Many times he had occasionally been witness to shootings and other such actions, but they were mainly in the context of a military action against a known enemy, or were committed by people Simon had known to be vile and loathsome creatures themselves. This was the first time he had seen someone so decisively kill another... He knew the look of remorse that he now saw on the soldier's face. “Something tells me I'm gonna hate this war,” the Soldier said, then inhaled sharply. “Sir, I advise finishing up our tour.”

Simon looked at the man. Slowly, he began to nod. There was nothing here for them to do now.

His radio bleeped. He answered it. “Mensar.”

“We're recalling our search parties. News has just come in from overseas and it's about to change everything,” the Councillor of the shelter told Simon. “Get back here asap.”

“Understood,” Simon replied. He re-holstered his radio, just as one of the two soldiers did the same. “Recalled?”

“Yes sir,” the man replied. “We have to go immediately.”

With that, they retraced their steps back to the shelter.

Simon was probably not the first to have questions about this...

He definitely would not be the last.

“Satellite data has been sent to us by Japanese and US satellites passing over Iran less than three hours ago,” Smith told Simon once they were back in the shelter. They were now in a closed conference room, with four officers guarding the only entrance. “We can't make this known to everyone out there, but we've been informed that someone in the Middle East has begun testing new vehicles and weapon systems.”

Simon took a look at the data sheets and the annotated diagrams that were spread across the desk. He had some basic knowledge of satellite visual data as he had to work with it in his career, and what he saw looked familiar, and yet different.

The maps were from the Iranian border near Iraq. The vehicles, what could be best described as triangular given the relatively low resolution that the satellites were able to provide, were all distributed across a large area of desert. Amongst them were several tanks, possibly sent in by the Iranians themselves to prevent anyone from taking advantage of the situation, but they all looked to be in differing states of repair. Most of them were smoking, given the trails visible from space. A number of them were on fire at the time the satellite photographed the region.

“This looks like a massacre,” Simon commented, and then silently kicked himself for stating something so obvious.

“Iran might not have access to the latest hardware,” Terry replied. “But this?”

It was obvious to both of them that the tanks sent in by the Iranians to protect the border numbered far more than the unidentified vehicles that had lay slain to them, and yet they had effectively lost.

“Any intelligence on what these things are yet?” Simon asked.

“I sent a request to London asking for more information. They told me that everything else was classified beyond anyone's clearance.”

Simon thought about that. Strictly speaking, what he had been told in the conference room would have likely been classified beyond his need to know, which made it odd that he had been shown any of this, and it made it even more odd that Councillor Smith had any of it. “I'm surprised this had been released to us,” he commented.

The councillor picked up a sheet of paper hidden under one of the satellite images. “This came in for you.”

Simon read it. It had a short and simple message. “I arranged for this information to get to you. It won't be long before these things start hitting the UK. Get back here when you can. Charles.”

“My dad got this to me,” Simon said quietly, dropping the paper and leaning on the desk. “He thinks it won't be long before we see things like this hitting the UK.”

Terry looked at him. “You think they have flying ones too?”

“It stands to reason. Whoever built these things can build something that can get across bodies of water.”

“The question is how are you getting back?”

“I've no idea yet. I doubt there's anything serviceable in London and we know for a fact that there's nothing here. Maybe some of the outlying army facilities escaped the attack.”

“Let's hope so. This base won't carry us forever.”

London Central Nuclear Shelter, United Kingdom

02:43 Hrs British Summer Time, 12th June, in the 22nd year of the war.

“WE NEED A MEDIC! ON THE DOUBLE!” one of several soldiers called out as a reconnaissance group returned from a patrol out near their perimeter. Several other soldiers ran to help the badly injured members of the group, with those still able to walk helping where they could.

Simon watched from up in a control room overlooking the big underground store that had become their refuge over the years. The biggest threat to humanity were foreign humans intent on carrying out the agendas of their respective governments. The Koreans were intent on killing off the entire British, American, and allied forces. Many others sided with them. Japan and China were allied with Britain but were backed into a small corner of their once widespread lands by the occupying forces of Thailand and surrounding countries. China was still able to resist the advance of their enemies simply on the basis that there were more Chinese people in the world than any other population group.

This group was hit worse than any others so far sent out. Simon was not of the same mind as the others within command, since they wanted to hold on to their position, while he wanted to evacuate the facility and relocate to the Americas. This was a good argument to use now, and so he called an emergency meeting.

“Simon, this is very irregular,” Charles told his son. “We do not just call meetings in the middle of the night.”

“This has gone on far enough, sir,” Simon replied. “Another of my watch teams came back torn to pieces. Eight sent out, all came back injured. Five of them severely. One isn’t expected to live. This is the fifth time in three days!”

“We should expect casualties,” Cal, an American naval Captain, told Simon in a gruff manner. “We are at war, you know!”

Simon glared at the Captain. “War or not, there is no point in propagating needless casualties.”

“People die. Fact of life, especially now.”

“You would send men to their deaths just because of a stubborn intractable resistance to change?” Simon retorted.

“Gentlemen, enough!” Charles, Simon’s father, called everyone to order.

“Sir, we must move now!” Simon insisted.

Charles leaned forward, his face intent on that of his son. “You do have a good reason for this, don’t you?”

Anyone else would have been intimidated by General Charles Mensar in this mood, but not Simon – he knew his own father too well – and he was prepared with an answer. “The Americas would be a good place to set up a new base. The Rockies can provide underground shelter for millions of people when tunnelled out, and Arizona already has a still-secure nuclear shelter. I’m sure that the shelter’s commanding officer will let us join them.”

Charles remained foreboding. “How do you arrive at that conclusion?”

Simon was as stubborn as his father. “I checked with the commanding officer when I called them just before this meeting,” and he knew what he just said would set off some sparks, but did not move from his stance against his father.

“You would go over my head?” Charles was forbidding in his posture, even if he was sixty-seven years old. “Call them without my authority?”

Simon made his point. “Take action while everyone else sits here discussing the subject. I do not want any more needless loss of life when we can take action to-”

Charles roared right through his sentence, cutting him off. “AND COMPLETELY DISREGARD THE CHAIN OF COMMAND?”

“I’D PREFER THAT TO SITTING AROUND DOING NOTHING LIKE THAT IDIOT OVER THERE!” Simon roared back, the arteries in his neck stood out as he shouted where he was so angry.

Since it was Cal that Simon was referring to, Cal took exception and pushed his way through to reach Simon. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out,” Simon replied, then added. “You seem the sort that would take your heavy destroyer and plough it straight into the enemy while you sit on some distant watch post somewhere, waiting for it to happen.”

Cal grabbed Simon by the throat and was about to strangle him. Simon kicked out and forced him against the conference table. He was about to lay a punch in Cal’s face when two soldiers restrained him from doing so.

Two more soldiers stopped Cal from diving back into Simon, so he started shouting. “YOU SON OF A BITCH! I SHOULD KILL YOU!”

“I’m trying to save lives, not waste them!”

“You’d do so by running from the enemy?” Cal asked superciliously.

“The enemy will eventually send everything they have to eliminate us, and our intelligence tells us that’s more than we can repel. By moving to another base of operations we can ensure our survival and build our forces,” Simon glared at Cal, then added “Does that really disgust you so that you’re willing to remain here and wait to die?” When Cal did not, because he could not, reply to such a retort, Simon turned to his father. “We have to go, it’s the only way we can ensure our survival.”

Charles gazed steadily at his son, then nodded.

This instantly caused outrage with Cal. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am and my decision is final. We’re shipping out. Simon, you co-ordinate, since you’ve already usurped my prerogative,” the last statement, Simon was relieved, was not intended to be a personal insult or attack against his decision.

“Very well, we meet here again tomorrow afternoon at midday exactly to co-ordinate our withdrawal. I want us out of here within a week!”

With that, Simon left the room and headed back to his small quarters, which he shared with his son.

“Okay, we need to decide who’s going to man which ships,” Simon headed up the briefing the following morning. Senior officials and top ranking soldiers within the military bunker were all present in the dusty conference room. “How many do we have for transport?”

“We’ve six destroyers defending-” a British Army Lieutenant began before Simon interrupted him.

“Lieutenant I asked how many transports!”

“Yes sir, Eight carriers which can carry some people, twelve troop transports and two de-commissioned destroyers that have been converted for carrying passengers. There’s an old undamaged cruise liner that we’ve just managed to salvage from off the coast and are refitting it as we speak.”

“Is it seaworthy?”

“Yes sir, just some operational systems need fitting.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem to use it next week should it?”

“No sir.”

“Good,” Simon then turned to Cal. “What about your fleet?”

“Those figures you read out include my fleet!” Cal said with considerable hostility.

“Understood,” Simon replied coldly. “We need one of the ships to draw the enemy fire if they decide to come looking for us.”

“Yeah right,” Cal sneered.

“What do you mean?”

“I can really see you putting one of your ships up for the honour,” Cal sneered again.

“Done. HMS Invincible will be used,” Simon replied, since he knew the HMS Invincible, while her weapon systems remained operational, had shoddy repair work to her engines and should have been decommissioned long ago. “You can captain her.”

Cal looked stunned. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Simon replied smoothly. “Or are you too chicken shit to do so?”

“No American would stand back for such a task!” Cal said, jutting his chin out. “You Brits maybe, but not us.”

“Very well, I will go with you.”

Cal’s eyes bulged out. “What?!”

“I’ll go with you,” Simon repeated. “If it means my son can be saved from being killed here and we can distract the enemy, then I’ll do it.” He was very serious about what he said.

It slowly occurred to the others that he was serious. Charles was aghast. “Simon, you can’t possibly be serious-”

“I have made my decision sir, I will go,” Simon said, then continued before anyone else could interrupt. “I have made charts detailing way-points that our ships will follow in order to minimise losses should the enemy encounter our shipping. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

The unknown vessel was detected seven light years outside of the home system’s sphere of influence. Propellant was being pushed out, but at a considerably lightened rate for the detected thrust capacity of the vessel, according to scans made by the investigating Commander. The unknown vessel seemed to be in preparation for a deceleration. Further investigations were ordered.

On further investigation and after considerable amount of time, the ship sent to investigate monitored as the unknown vessel ceased outputting thrust and began to turn itself around. It became obvious that the only powerful propulsion system this vessel possessed was mounted on the rear, and so the vessel would have to turn around in order to decelerate.

It was also determined that the final destination of the vessel was the home system.

Immediately this report arrived back to the governing authority, the investigating vessel was ordered to carry out a deep scan, the results of which were seven major life forms, all in some form of stasis induced by critically low temperatures. Such techniques had become obsolete more than five centuries ago.

A mandate was filed for the continued monitoring of this vessel on its’ way to the home system, its’ projected arrival was less than twenty cycles.

London, United Kingdom

“What do you mean, you’re going?” Edward, Simon’s son, asked him when he broke the news after the briefing.

“You heard,” Simon said.

“But it’s SUICIDE!”

“It’s protecting as many people as I can Edward,” Simon replied forcefully. “If a decoy isn’t sent out, the machines find us that much quicker.”

“I understand that, but why you?”

“Because I have no other choice!”

Someone else walked in. “What don’t you have a choice about?” It was Edward’s mother, Kelly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Here we go again, Simon thought. “Nothing,” he replied, glaring at Edward for him to keep silent.

Edward did not take the hint. “Uh uh, no way! Dad over here wants to go on a SUICIDE mission!”

“What?!” Kelly gasped. “What’s going on?”

Simon glared at Edward. “A decoy vessel’s being sent out in preparation for the evacuation of this base,” he told Kelly. “I’m on board it.”

Kelly shook her head in denial. “No, they can’t take you. They can’t!”

Simon regarded her levelly. “This was my choice.”

Kelly continued to shake her head. “No, no…”

This was pointless, Simon thought to himself.

“I bet one of those yanks goaded you into it,” Edward exclaimed. “Fuckin’ yanks always war-mongering and getting other people to fight their battles-”

Simon hit Edward across the face hard enough to send him forcefully into a nearby wall. “THAT’S HOW WARS START IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

Kelly slapped Simon, hard. “Don’t ever touch him again,” she whispered in fury.

Simon was not disturbed by this. “I’m going. I told you so that we could spend one last night in each other’s company,” Kelly’s mouth dropped open – they had split shortly after the war began, though it was plain that she did not want that. “But if you two are going to fight me on this…” and he threatened to walk out, heading toward the door.

Kelly caught his arm. “No, don’t,” she said, trembling. “I don’t want you to go.”

Simon was all too aware that the pressures of war were what caused their split in the first place – and now was aware of how much pain that caused them both.

Unfortunately it was too late, for they would now only have tonight.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Edward, on the other hand, walked out.

The USS Enterprise pulled into harbour at the coastal region of Dover Shelter, crew members disembarking and extending access ramps to the vessel. Weapons were being loaded onto it, and several salvaged Sea King helicopters landed on the deck.

“Alright, let’s get everyone moving!” Charles called at the top of his voice, the volume carrying throughout the colony despite his advanced age.

Everyone began moving their possessions to the waiting transport vessels and/or ferry boats (in the case of long-range transportation to the biggest transports in the channel). Guards and guerrilla fighters watched over the crowds as they boarded their vessels and moved away from the coast.

London Shelter had already been evacuated that morning and now stood empty.

Simon was one of those watching over the groups of people being moved out. He was stood in a watch tower normally reserved for outpost fighters, protecting the coastal regions. It was entirely possible that an attack could take place here, since their movements would have been detected by some group or another.

No sooner had the thought entered his mind, than several air-craft flew overhead, several people falling out and parachuting to the ground. Before they had landed, these fighters began firing on the evacuees. Simon recognised them.

Koreans!

They were attacking evacuees, setting out to kill them!

Simon grabbed his pulse rifle and began firing back at them, wounding a great many in the space of just a few seconds, hoping that they would have to stop to tend their wounds.

There was no such luck.

Instead, wounded Koreans either shot themselves if they were able to, or were simply left for dead. The tide of Koreans continued ever forward, closing in on the evacuation group.

Simon had no compunction about killing them outright, so he modified the settings of his pulse rifle to a rapid fire setting, and opened fire. He needed to clear enough space for the evacuees to get out and for additional forces to get in and hold their position until the ships were ready to move out.

An explosion shocked him into ducking. He peeked up to take a look in the direction he heard the blast, and realised that there was a war-ship firing on them! “Defending fleet, GET SOMEONE TO TAKE OUT THAT SHIP!”

“This is the HMS Insufferable,” was the reply. “We’re already on it!”

Indeed, as the message was finished, Simon spotted explosions out in the sea. The Korean war-ship, which Simon recognised as a commandeered Chinese vessel, was being bombarded by the British battleship. There were also several Harriers attacking the vessel, having been launched from the USS Iwo Jima.

Simon’s attention was forced back to the field when another explosion was heard. Now the Koreans were launching grenades at the civilian escapees!

“You bastards!” Simon whispered, opening fire on the group again, taking more of them down. He continued, doggedly punching a hole through the Korean invaders, until he received a message telling him that all the evacuees were gone.

“I’m going to my ship,” Simon replied. “Cover me.”

“Cover him, he says,” Simon heard the tower guard muttering over the com link. This was no time to get slipshod, he thought but he made his move toward the HMS Invincible transport ferry, staving off the opposition from the Korean invasion force as he did so.

By this time, the last transport ship was docking with their large transports and modified carriers to offload their passengers. The fleet began to move out of the channel, the carriers and battle group fighting off opposition from two more commandeered Chinese war vessels.

There was a report of a commandeered Russian Alpha Class sub in the area, so assistance from the USS Dallas and the USS Chicago was called in by the USS Enterprise.

Simon was now aboard the HMS Invincible and the vessel was now getting under way, a full complement of F-18’s lining the pads of the accompanying carrier USS Utah.

Wing Commander, Captain Roger Dean, flew above the French coast, near where Calais used to be, with his wing taking up diamond formation around him. Their task was to try and put up resistance should the machines decide to launch an attack. It was hoped that by putting up resistance, the machines would not discover that the population had evacuated the country.

Of course, it wasn’t long before the enemy showed up over the area. Unfortunately, there were hundreds of the airborne units. Before any of the group could make evasive manoeuvres, all of the machines fired simultaneously, destroying every aircraft in an instant.

The HMS Invincible was not far from the site of the attack, and having witnessed this, launched the last remaining stock of Tomahawk missiles toward the enemy units. Even as the units were moving on, the missiles impacted against the sides of the enemy aircraft, forcing one or two of them to fall back and retreat for repairs.

Simon watched from the Bridge of the Invincible as the missiles hit the enemy. He hoped that his plan would work because there was a massive group of airborne destroyers in sight, that had destroyed their fighter craft, The Iwo Jima had less than twenty aircraft left, all Stealth Fighters and all armed. It was hoped, as the fighters were quick-launched off of the carrier runway, that they could attract sufficient attention to change their attack path.

Explosions all over the deck killed most of the crew within an instant. Many others, burning alive, jumped off over the sides, only to be shot down by laser fire as they plunged into the sea. Simon, caught in the Bridge of the ship, looked horrified as he saw a second attack group, firing at them and destroying anything they could, while the main attack group continued on their course toward the British Isles.

Their mission had failed, Simon thought as the Bridge was cut in half by laser fire, killing him in the process.

Cal, the American Captain, despaired as the enemy sped off away from the area toward the escaping fleet, leaving both ships to sink off the French coast. Suddenly, one peeled off, swung back and headed in his direction. The last thought in his mind, just before a laser pulse burned him where he was at the stern of the ship, was that the machines had fully committed to destroying all life on Earth.

“Mother,” Edward called as he burst into her small room with no regard for decency. “Come on, get up!”

“Edward?”

“Get up, we’ve got to go now!” And when she didn’t move quickly enough, Edward grabbed her by the arm and pulled her, running, toward the top deck of the HMS Insufferable, where a recently landed Helicopter was waiting, empty of the pilots and crew that flew it in to land. Edward thanked whatever quirk of humanity prompted the pilot to leave it standing without anyone to guard.

“Edward, stop! What’s going on?” his mother insisted.

“We don’t have the time!” Edward replied quickly, pulling her onto the access deck for the copter. Edward would bet that the Captains were now getting news about the destruction of the two decoy vessels, news which he heard earlier since he had hacked into the Machines’ internal network to keep up with the enemy. “We’ve got to go now!”

Edward was thankful also that because of the news filtering through the ranks, everyone was busy provisioning their defensive craft for a decoy action, meaning that Edward wouldn’t be seen Commandeering the helicopter.

His launch wasn’t even witnessed as he took off with the other craft, heading away from the carrier in the wrong direction.

One thing Edward made sure to do was to send a message (via the com system he had hacked into) to the one allied sub he could contact, warning them of the attacks that were imminent. He just hoped that the machines didn’t know how to build amphibious craft. By the time the enemy units reached the evacuation group, the helicopter was well within the borders of American coastal areas and was headed for the nearest operational shelter in Washington, DC.

“Welcome to Washington, DC,” a guard called out as Edward and his mother disembarked from their helicopter. Earlier, the helicopter was given clearance to land by the administrators of the DC shelter. “Step this way, time is of the essence.”

As the two were herded through the shelter complex to another hangar, Edward was informed of the developing events that were occurring throughout the planet. The DC Shelter, intercepting transmissions on a regular basis from the Machines, captured an order to activate the planetary stock of nukes. As soon as this order was received, the President, still alive after all was said and done in the past twenty or so years, was shoved into a protective site in Camp David. Edward and his mother were not allowed into this site and so were re-directed to the remaining operational shelter in Phoenix, Arizona.

As they were loaded onto the plane, Edward’s mother could no longer contain her suspense. “What happened to the fleet?”

The guard stopped, puzzled expression on his face. “’Scuse me, ma’am?”

“What happened to the fleet of evacuees that were leaving England?”

“Oh,” the guard sighed. “Well… There was some bad news. The fleet was attacked by the machines and all hands were lost. I’m sorry.”

“What about the decoy vessels?” She pounced on him with the question.

“What decoy vessels?”

She turned to Edward. “Tell me what happened to them,” she demanded.

Edward sighed. He didn’t want to tell her this. “The decoys are gone,” he said in an emotionless tone, waiting for the inevitable explosion of grief and anger. Surprisingly, she passed out cold. “Give me a hand into the aircraft, would you?” Edward asked the guard, who helped him load her into the aircraft and then climbed in afterwards.

Shortly, the modified Stealth Bomber lifted off from the grounds and made its’ way quickly to the base in Arizona, where the passengers and craft were landed, taken into the recesses of the shelter via the underground landing platform, and out of the way of any potential nuclear threat.