the food and fuel shortages. His family didn’t go hungry though, because his father knew quite a few farmers and did their accounts and other paperwork for them in return for food. But fuel was a problem. Once, my father, with his grandfather, was gathering wood when a German soldier caught them both. My father ran off and the soldier told his grandfather to stay where he was while he chased after my father but as soon as the German soldier was out of sight, he ran off home. As for my father, he outran the soldier but only just. As the Duke of Wellington said after the battle of Waterloo, it was a damned close run thing.
Another time, my father and his best friend saw an allied plane come down. They both reached the aircraft before the Germans and took out the machine gun and ran off with it. Later they wrapped it up in newspaper and cloth and buried it as deep as they possibly could. They never subsequently recovered it; so as far as anyone knows, it is still there.
Before the war my father saw the old German Kaiser Wilhelm ІІ who had been exiled to Holland at the end of the First World War. There are not many people left alive now who can say their dad saw the Kaiser. I saw a documentary about his life once. He was not in the least sorry for what he had done. He should have been extradited at the end of the war to be tried for war crimes. I know England did make discreet enquiries but the Dutch government turned down the request. He died in Holland on 16th June 1941, six days before the German invasion of Russia. The Germans got off far too lightly at the end of World War One. They should have been made to surrender unconditionally. The whole country should then have come under total military occupation as was done at the end of World War Two, so as to stamp out German militarism once and for all. I don’t know about our General Haig, but I am sure that is what Marshall Foch and General Pershing wanted to do. It was the politicians who told them to accept more lenient terms.
My father also told me that before the war he used to watch the Dutch royal family who had a royal palace near my father’s home town, hunting wild boar in the forest. They were vicious little creatures, especially when protecting their young. I think the royal palace is now open to the public as a stately home.
But alas, the time for reminiscing was over and the time for decisive action was now upon us as the train came to a halt at the station serving the Citadel.
Twenty
On Sontral it was just another morning in the S.I.S. Command and Control Centre buried deep underground in the government district. Agents were logging on and off as normal; it was just another nondescript day on the face of it. The room itself consisted of rows and rows of individual work stations each manned by a communications operative. On the front wall were a number of large screens that could display information or maps as and when required. Attached to the other three walls were observation balconies and there was also a large, open reception area as you entered the complex. Suddenly the security doors opened and in came Commander Vadoran.
“Oh, it’s the boss,” the supervisor said.
“Look who else is here,” replied the deputy supervisor.
One by one, anybody who was anybody filed in, starting with the Prime Minister, closely followed by all the members of the cabinet, the military chiefs and the leader of the opposition in parliament. Even the Hellertron Ambassador, who looked very angry at being ordered out of bed at such short notice to attend this gathering, was there, still in his pyjamas and robe. And of course, intermingled with all these V.I.Ps were the people who had done so much and worked so tirelessly to make this moment possible: Freema, of course, along with professor Zinnerman, Chris and Alana.
As the last of the stragglers filed in, Commander Vadoran said to the head of the security detail, “As from this moment on I want a total lockdown of this complex. Nobody is to be allowed in or out unless they have my personal permission.”
“Understood, sir.” the officer replied.
The control room was then locked and sealed tight until further notice and then, turning towards the supervisor and her deputy, the Commander ordered, “Sign off with all our agents and clear the decks.”
“Yes, sir,” the supervisor replied, as they both scurried around every work station individually, instructing all the controllers to sign off.
The Foreign Secretary then said to the Chancellor, “I wonder what’s so important to bring us all down here at such an early hour?”
Horace, who heard him, replied, “Something wonderful is going to happen… it’s the Kultarn miracle.”
“Oh Horace,” the Foreign Secretary said, “you really must stop deluding yourself; you’re going to make yourself poorly. I admit it is a special operation that is being mounted, probably the first one involving Guardian John with Kronos. I’m afraid at best the only miracle we can all hope for is that we don’t all end up working in the Kayton war factories and the way things are going at the moment, that is looking more and more likely.”
“If we do,” the Chancellor said, “I want the bottom bunk.”
“I thought you would,” the Foreign Secretary replied. “Your request is duly noted.”
Horace then looked them both in the eyes in turn. “You have got to have hope; you are both still at least able to hope, aren’t you?”
No response came from either the Foreign Secretary or the Chancellor, apart from them both shaking their heads in disbelief.
Meanwhile, the Prime Minister had made his way up to the main balcony overlooking the reception area.
“Please could I have everyone’s attention?” he asked.
A loud voice then bellowed from down below. “Do you know I am the Hellertron Empire’s Ambassador to the Solaran Commonwealth and as such I do not expect to be ordered out of bed and summoned here at a moment’s notice? I was not even allowed to get dressed or bring my close protection body guards with me!”
“I apologise to you unreservedly, your Excellency,” the Prime Minister said, “but when I have finished explaining myself, you will understand why I had to go to such extraordinary lengths.”
“You had better have a very good reason!” the Ambassador snapped back.
The Prime Minister continued. “I do believe today will turn out to be a truly historic day, because last night, thanks to this brilliant young man, Chris, and his assistant Alana,” he gestured towards them, “Kronos and John successfully broke the Transdamping barrier and Transported themselves to Tyros—” gasps of disbelief emanated from the assembled crowd below and after a short pause, he continued, “where they rendezvoused with Adema, our deep cover agent. Now it took many years to get an operative on Tyros and countless brave men died in the attempt, as indeed many brave men and women have died in this terrible war. But during the time Adema has been on Tyros, he has had access to all the Kaytons’ vital installations in the Citadel itself, including one that we are particularly interested in. He has drawn up a workable plan. Also, he has managed to amass enough explosives and weapons and if all goes as expected, in less than half an hour the three of them will launch an attack on the Drone Command Bunker. Their aim is to knock out the power to the control beacon, killing the signal at source, which will in turn precipitate a rebellion in what is, after all, seventy percent of their armed forces. After which, in conjunction with our Hellertron allies, we will hopefully hit the Kaytons with all our available armed forces so as to take full advantage of the situation in what I have designated Operation Marita. As you are all aware, Marita is the Kultarn word for punishment and that is exactly what we are going to mete out to the Kaytons once we have received confirmation of the mission’s success. And yes, we can end the war in a day; that is the glittering prize that awaits the successful outcome of the mission. I am sure that all our hopes and prayers will be with the three of them for the successful outcome of the mission and their safe return to Sontral.”
Now to describe the reaction to the Prime Minister’s statement as astonishment from the assembled crowd in the reception area would be an understatement. It took a while for the full impact to sink
in. The reaction was universal:
“I am the Minister for War Production; I had no idea what was going on.”
“I’m the Chief of General Staff; nobody told me a thing. I was left completely in the dark.”
The leader of the opposition slowly and apprehensively made his way over to the Prime Minister. With his head down and tail between his legs he looked like the dead-end politician of Sontral.
“I’m sorry Mister Prime Minister,” he said, “for giving you such a hard time in Parliament. I hope you will accept my unreserved apology.”
“No need to apologise,” the Prime Minister replied. “I would have followed exactly the same course of action if I had been in your shoes. Although, when victory is won and peace restored, I would appreciate cross party cooperation on the massive reconstruction and recovery programme that will be required to rebuild a shattered, war-torn galaxy. Bringing the war to an end is not enough; we must win the peace as well by laying the foundations for a peaceful and prosperous future for all.”
“I can assure you, Mister Prime Minister, you will have my full cooperation in the mammoth task that will face the commonwealth once the war is over,” the opposition leader replied.
With that exchange they parted company. The