Hellertron Ambassador then approached Commander Vadoran.
“Yes, Mister Ambassador,” the Commander said, “what can I do for you?”
With a smile, the Ambassador replied, “This has your fingerprints all over it. All the hallmarks. I bet you conceived and planned this operation from its very beginning.”
“Very perceptive of you, Mister Ambassador.”
“We have had the speeches,” the Ambassador replied, “but now I want some straight, honest answers from you. This is a very risky operation to mount, even for very experienced operatives. John is no soldier, so realistically, in your professional opinion, what do you think their chances of success are?”
Freema was close enough to hear everything that was being said.
“I would give them a fifty-fifty chance of pulling it off and getting back to Sontral safely,” The Commander replied.
After pausing for a moment the Ambassador replied, “I would take those odds every time. The potential reward is worth the risk. Thank you for being so candid with me, Commander.”
“Glad to have been of service to you Mister Ambassador, but you must excuse me now. I still have a great deal of work to be getting on with.”
As they parted company, the Commander made his way over to the floor supervisor and her assistant. Addressing them both, he said. “Who is our nearest active operative to Tyros?”
“We have an operative on Raygel in the Quadrain system,” the supervisor replied. “It is used as a military staging post to the various battle fronts. He is one of our best agents. He has built up a planet-wide network of operatives as well as a resistance movement. We have had some good information from him on Kayton troop movements.”
“If the mission is a success,” the Commander said, “then logically, Raygel would be the first place to notify us of the rebellion taking place. When it does, put the transmission on speaker and then as soon as confirmation comes, contact all our agents and resistance movements in the outer systems as quickly as possible. I calculate it will take four to five minutes for the Drone signal failure to reach that far. At least it will give our operatives a little time to prepare for what’s coming.”
“Yes, sir,” the supervisor replied.
On the upper balcony level, the Chief of General Staff, General Siliax, approached the Prime Minister. He directed the military campaign against the Kaytons, obviously under political control, but essentially he ran the day-to-day operations. He had started out as a private soldier and then worked his way through the ranks after attending the officer training academy. His rise was meteoric. He was a soldier’s soldier who knew how the ordinary man felt and they in turn respected him. He was the third most powerful man in the Solaran Commonwealth after the Prime Minister and Commander Vadoran. He had developed D.A.R.A.D.S that is Depth and Resources Active Defense System, which was basically defence in depth. That is, multiple lines of defence which the troops could fall back on one by one as the situation dictated. Having depth and resources was the key to the strategy; the depth to soak up an enemy attack and take the sting out of it and then the resources to subsequently push the enemy back to their start lines. Not all the battle fronts, like Ganeymon, for example, had the full network but the majority had at least a partial system in place. The strategy of course relied heavily on stockpiling huge amounts of ammunition behind the various front lines. But as the General was all too aware, in a matter of months the resources would start to run out, so nullifying his strategy. Since the Hellertron collapse he had issued a special order of the day, Not One Step Back. The fronts were to be held at all costs as there were no reserves left with which to plug the gaps.
As he approached the Prime Minister, he did have one very big worry on his mind if the mission was a success, but for now he kept his concerns to himself.
“General Siliax,” the Prime Minister said, “I must apologize for not keeping you properly informed but we had to restrict people in the know to as few as possible for obvious security reasons. I hope you understand.”
“Fully, Mister Prime Minister,” the General replied. “And there is one consolation to our precarious position… we don’t have to worry about moving reserves up to the front line to launch operation Marita. There are none. Everything is already committed so when the order is given for our forces to attack we will be able to move at a moment’s notice.”
“Good,” said the Prime Minister. “Now I will leave you to your preparations.”
Now the scene on the lower ground level had to be seen to be believed as Statler and Waldorf, or as I should correctly call them, the Foreign Secretary and the Chancellor, were making a fuss over Horace.
“Here you are, Horace,” the Foreign Secretary said, “I have got you a chair to sit down on so you can rest your legs and the Chancellor has got you a blanket. Would you like tea and biscuits?”
“Oh, yes please,” Horace replied. “Milk and two sugars.”
“I will get the tea,” the Foreign Secretary said. “Mister Chancellor, you go and get Horace his favorite biscuits.”
“Yes, Mister Foreign Secretary.”
They both sped off to complete their various tasks, returning in double quick time to tuck Horace up in his blanket and make sure he was comfortable.
Both had their heads bowed in shame, the Chancellor nodding in agreement as the Foreign Secretary said, “Horace we are both very sorry for the unforgivable things we said to you and the way we have both treated you. Can you find it in your heart to forgive us both?”
“Of course I can,” Horace replied. “It’s already been forgotten; we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t mean.”
“You were right, though,” the Foreign Secretary admitted. “You were right all along about the Kultarn miracle coming to pass.”
Horace smiled. “Well, I did have a little whisper in my ear as to what might be about to happen.” All three of them smiled at that comment as preparations continued apace for what was about to happen.
Twenty-one
On Tyros, there was a bit of an anticlimax for me after our train had come to a halt on the main platform. Only the first ten carriage doors opened for their occupants to detrain and pass the security gate. After a few minutes the process was repeated. I was thinking to myself, I wish they would get a move on; let’s get it over with. Then at last, third time lucky, our carriage door opened as all three of us stepped out and made our way along the platform to negotiate the check point to enter the Citadel proper. The tension was palpable as we stood in line. Then at last it was our turn… and would you believe it, the guard manning the check point knew Adema.
“Good morning, Adema. Working the weekend to get some overtime in? The tax man will like you.” He checked Adema’s security pass on his computer verification system.
Adema then replied, “The upkeep of my villa in the country is expensive. I need all the extra hours I can get. I’m afraid there is no peace for the wicked. I picked up my security detail on departure.”
“I wish everyone was as efficient as you, Adema.”
After our pass cleared, the guard handed it back to Adema and waved us through. We then entered the Citadel proper. Oh and what a sight it was that befell me. The first thing that struck me was the ceiling. Even though it was an enclosed dome with an artificial sky effect, you couldn’t tell that it was not real. The nearest thing I had seen that even came close to it was the artificial sky in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland in Anaheim, California. But that was a night time sky, not a daytime effect, which must have been much harder to create.
After we had walked a few yards we stepped onto one of those moving walkways like you find at airports, but these were much wider and many times longer, linking different parts of the Citadel together. As we passed each different building I wondered what important facility it housed. I couldn’t turn my head from side to side; I just kept looking straight ahead, fixated on the job in hand. And then, would you believ
e it, like a recurring nightmare, who should be coming the opposite way along the adjacent walkway… yes, it was Drakos, accompanied by two of his Lieutenants.
All three of them were laughing and joking as they passed us, seemingly with not a care in the world. I could only begin to imagine what was going through Kronos’s mind. Anyway, with a bit of luck, he and his kind would soon be six foot under. Straight downstairs for him and his kind, of that I had no doubt, to join the new crop of stokers for Old Nick and I hoped he would work them twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for eternity.
At last, after what seemed to be an age, we stepped off the walkway and headed towards the Drone Command Bunker proper. Now to say fear was starting to grip me would be an understatement. You just have to try to think about other things and not let it get the better of you. As the three of us moved ever closer, it reminded of the end scene in the 1969 feature film, The Wild Bunch, with the four main characters played by William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Warren Oates, and Ben Johnson. The four of them had just left… shall we call it a house of ill repute, and were making their way to get their comrade, Angel, back from the tin pot General and his drunken men. On arrival at the scene the General killed Angel but William Holden’s gang killed the General and then there was an almighty battle.