Drakelow
Drakelow depot sat beneath the Kingsford County Park just north of the town of Kidderminster. The underground facility had been built during World War Two but now it had been revamped to house the local seats of government during a nuclear attack; many similar facilities had been built due to the uncertainty caused by the cold war.
The tunnels of the large bunker were filled with noise. Countless people were busy at work.
A large meeting room had been set up and visitors were starting to arrive on mass now. Guards from different countries greeted each other and were then escorted to their accommodation.
The foreign dignitaries were given the most protected rooms and were left to settle down.
In the center of the meeting room was a large round table with seats placed all around it.
Only two seats were occupied at the moment, Harold Wilson the British Prime Minister sat in a deep conversation with his Chief of Staff, Field Marshal Sir Geoffrey Baker.
Sir Geoffrey’s arms would periodically fly all over the place as he tried to get his point across to the Prime Minister, Sir Geoffrey was known to be a passionate man who would not back down easily.
Wilson sighed, “Ok, that is enough for now, get all of the intelligence that we have so that we can present a good case to our allies. We need to share everything we have. If we are honest with them, then we can only hope they will afford us the same courtesy.”
Sir Geoffrey shrugged, “One can hope, Sir, but I doubt it.”
It was another twenty-four hours before all the guests had arrived. The most influential men in the world took their seats at the table.
The full list read:
Harold Wilson, Prime Minister
Field Marshal Sir Geoffrey Baker
Royal Air Force Air Chief Marshal, Sir Brian Burnett
Admiral, Sir John Frewen
Chairman of the people’s republic of China, Dong Biwu
Chief of the people’s liberation Army general staff department, Su Yu
Viktor Kulikov, Acting general secretary of the Communist party of the Soviet Union
Marshal of the Soviet Union Pavel Batitsky
Willy Brandt, Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany
And finally; Admiral, Thomas H Moorer.
Moorer was now the acting President of the United States after the deaths of Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew.
Thomas Moorer had only arrived in Portsmouth a few hours earlier and after he had made sure his men had received everything that they needed, he had rushed up to Kidderminster.
Under tons of earth, reinforced steel, and concrete the various heads of state continued to argue deep into the night. The main sticking point had been Su Yu’s insistence that a coordinated nuclear strike was the only way to defeat the Aryan forces.
Understandably Admiral Moorer was against this option.
“We can’t nuke our own country, people still live there. We might as well hand them the country on a silver platter.”
Zu Yu huffed in disgust as he listened to his interpreter. The chairman of China interrupted, “I agree with Zu Yu, a nuclear attack is the safest option. I think we should vote on it.”
Wilson begrudgingly agreed on the vote. Two men in the room raised their hands while the rest sat steadfast.
Ding Biwu stared in contempt at Kulikov, “You call yourself a man of the Soviet Union yet you are unable to act in the best interest of Communism.”
Kulikov responded in English so that the whole room could understand him, “We tried to attack the Aryan forces with a nuclear strike, as we prepared our leadership was killed by a powerful chemical weapon. Now nothing lives in Moscow. So I am acting in the best interests of everyone here. God forbid if one of those missiles strikes your country.”
Dong Biwu sank back into his chair, he turned to his interpreter and whispered something to him.
“What do you suggest that we do? Send our troops into certain death?”
The room stayed silent for a minute before most of the senior army men tried to talk all at once. People argued across the table with each other for another ten minutes before Wilson intervened.
“Ok, this is getting us nowhere. Let’s go over what we know and then formulate our best course of action.” He started to look over the battle of Washington, before he added, “they must have some kind of weakness. One thing is for certain, we must not use nuclear missiles, the effect on the planet could be catastrophic.”
The men around the table leaned back into their chairs, some lit pipes. They were quiet as they went over all the information they had gathered on the enemy.
Admiral Moorer took the chair; it showed the humility of the man as he still preferred to be called Admiral rather than President.
“What we know is that they have an ultra-modern army, they have air support that can reach speeds that our jets could only hope. In fact, we know that they outclass us in every department, apart from one.”
Wilson interrupted, “They don’t have a Navy.”
“Preciously!” Moorer replied, “I suggest we look at an amphibious assault, hit them in places that our ships can help swing the balance of power, and then when we have established beachheads, take the fight to them.”
Brandt shook his head, “Nein.” He looked up from the pictures of the enemy tanks, “That would cost too much blood with no guarantee of success.”
“What would you suggest?” Moorer asked in a condescending tone.
“Small-scale guerrilla attacks that are designed to sabotage their supply lines and communications.”
The heads of state continued to discuss battle plans into the early hours.
Falling Star
The dark cloudless sky over London was suddenly shattered by a huge flash of bright purple, the buildings started to sway under the strain of a huge blast. The sky tore and a small golden object plummeted towards the ground.
The blast had knocked out the lights around the great city, cars stopped in their tracks and all along the M25 people got out of their vehicles in a confused and slightly panicked state.
Onlookers watched as a shooting star fell towards London, the flames from the atmosphere heated the objected and it glowed majestically as the brightest thing in the night’s sky.
In the very heart of London, residents took to the streets as they wanted to find the source of the power cut. A police officer pointed to the object that fell at great speed. Seconds later a small explosion rocked the area around Mayfair as the objected impacted.
A few brave onlookers rushed towards the crash site, thankfully no one had been hurt but small fires dotted the area. An abandoned vehicle burned slowly. The impact crater had smashed a hole through the pavement.
The heat was so intense that people had to stand back and watch from a distance. Nothing moved from the crash site so they object was not manned. Nothing happened at all for the next half an hour and as people let curiosity get the better of them, they decided to try and take a closer look.
The area was still too hot for them to get a proper look but a few of the local lads had managed to creep to the edge of the crater. They peered over to see a small golden acorn about the size of a Labrador sitting unharmed in the whole.
“What the hell is that?”
“No idea Bazzer, but I dare you to go down and touch it.”
“Bugger off mate, you go down there.”
“Chicken, you have to, I dared you.”
The area suddenly came to life with flashing blue lights as a convoy of police vehicles arrived on the scene. Evidently, they had been far away enough from the blast radius that their vehicles had been unaffected.