YEAR 2030 - LONDON COMPOUND
It was a normal sunny day within the bubble of the heart of London in 2030. Long lines of worker ants shuffled along the paths like a herd of zombies, barely noticing one another and locked into their own little worlds for the day. The traffic queues on the morning commute were as orderly as they always were with traffic moving along at a snail's pace as people moved towards the start of yet another monotonous day.
All around the city, the enormous screens broadcast the usual state-sponsored nonsense. There were news reports broadcasting false victories achieved against the terrorist rebellion beyond the gates; adverts for new 'old movies' available for download; opportunities for earning credits by turning in any work colleagues who had breached the stringent rules of the workplace. It was the usual fare and the dream walkers floated within their propaganda-infested states whilst instruments of the Empire filtered among them in abundance with just one subliminal intent: everything was totally normal and under control.
Drones circulated the skies above making sure that everything was in order and everyone kept moving towards their designated place of work. Foot soldiers patrolled the main high street which acted as a thoroughfare for the commuters, here they would come to life for the briefest of moments as the iris scanners caught their eye, an array of tailored consumables broadcast directly to them which they could spend their hard earned credits on after a day of toil. It gave a whole new meaning to the concept of window shopping and this was perhaps the best part of a workers day, for other than work and the privacy of the tiny modules they lived in alone, there really was not much else to look forward to. Happiness was directly linked to the things that their credits could buy which meant if you had to get someone else in trouble for making an anti-establishment comment at work then so be it. Credits were hard to come by and it was not as if anyone had any family or friends in here so it really was a case of everyone for themselves.
The Empire had become masters over the years when it came to divide and rule, that's how they came to power in the first place, pitting various sections of society against each other and watching them battle one another to the bottom. The vitriol that was sparked from this approach had been a source of great amusement to the masters of the universe and the puppet politicians they used to enforce their will. The latter had enjoyed the riches that came with doing as they were instructed even if it meant a bit of public hatred. Little had these puppet politicians realised that once such laws and policies were in place, there would no longer be any need for them in this authoritarian dystopia. They had been the first casualties of the Empire's accession to the governing authority, they were a threat straight and simple, not through intellect or ability, they simply knew far too much about the dark arts that had got us all here. They had been servants to establishing this New World Order, fooling the masses into thinking that such changes had been carried out under democratic mandate rather than cloak and dagger deception. All those historic victories for greater freedoms, rights and civil liberties had been so freely handed over without much of a fight. The human race was a laughing stock so easily manipulated by the promise of wealth, power and fame or the promise that such things were ever achievable.
Frank was among the commuter swarms on his way to UCCA headquarters with his standard bagel and coffee breakfast from Mack's. Today looked and felt like any other day, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before the placid drudgery gave way to a violent revolt on an epic scale. He sipped his coffee, its bitter taste more pronounced than usual, the caffeine giving him a brighter buzz than it normally did. Frank gazed out on the sunny streets filled with the commuters, his mind shutting out the giant screens broadcasting the usual nonsense and he could hear music in his head. It had been so long since he had been able to drive and listen to music and he longed for the chance to do so again. The more he tuned out the droning pretence of the compound, the clearer the song filtered through his mind, his subconscious drifting to happier times, his fingers tapping out a tune. Now his head was bobbing up and down, the song growing louder in his brain and coursing through his veins.
Frank's gear changes became firmer and he began to squeeze the accelerator pedal with a heavy foot not caring that he was going above the designated limit. He now bit his bottom lip, allowing the uncontrollable urge of the music to take hold of him, jerking his head back and forth along with the guitar riffs and crashing cymbals that now flooded his body, the base and drum pounding through his heart. The tune was an old thrash metal classic of his younger years by the aptly named Rage Against the Machine and the lyrics of the song now filtered to his vocal chords.
'Now you do what they told ya' he sang. 'Now you're under control'.
He continued to sing the lines, his voice growing in amplitude and vociferousness with each uttered line, building up to a crescendo whilst the engine roared out in harmony with his exhilarated rants. To unassuming onlookers it was quite a strange sight, a middle-aged man conducting his own private concert, wailing inaudibly at the top of his voice and trying to play air guitar whilst simultaneously trying to command control of a moving vehicle.
Frank was beyond caring by this point, he imagined this might be the last day he would be alive and he was going to enjoy himself goddamn it. He wound down the window and stuck his tongue out at the people giving him peculiar looks and stares of derision. It was not as if they could hear what he was hearing, the track having shifted to another from the album.
'We gotta take the power back. Come on. Come on' he sang out of his window, passers-by giving perplexed and startled glances.
Frank was overcome with hysteria, laughing wildly at himself, imagining how those stupid imbeciles must have taken him as a crazy fool in the midst of a breakdown, but he just did not care. He had not felt so alive in such a long time and continued to belt out the tunes at the top of his voice all the way to headquarters. He promised himself that if he made it through the day that he'd grow out his hair and learn to play the guitar.
Frank's little dalliance with the rock gods of the past had meant that he was already running late for his morning meeting. By the time he passed through the security checks at the gate house to HQ, he arrived at his office to find the president's security detail loitering outside.
The rotund figure of the president swivelled leisurely in his chair to greet him. Van Duyn was smoking on a contraband cigar, the ash spilling all over Frank's immaculate desk, whilst the president delicately twisted the tips of his ginger moustache.
'Good Morning Frank' he said looking far too comfortable in the director's seat. 'Take a load off and let's have a chat' he urged, directing Frank to the seat opposite his own.
Any remnants of the hyperactive state that Frank had embodied a few moments earlier had now vacated his body like an unwanted house guest. His business-like and professional demeanour returned, embracing the dull glow of his lacklustre black suit and tie, whilst channelling the cool and calm exterior of a statesman. The old Frank was back and he had business to conduct, the budding rock star would have to remain ensconced in his subconscious for now.
'Actually sir, I'd like to take you down to the mainframe and show you what I was talking about' said Frank, keen to get the next stage of his master plan underway.
Van Duyn blew a couple of smoke rings into the middle of the room just in front of Frank's face before discarding some of the excess ash on Frank's desk. 'You know it does rather surprise me that someone as straight-laced as you Frank my boy, would condone the smoking of contraband cigars in your office' the president quizzed in an attempt to unnerve him, such was his manner of always trying to irk anyone and everyone.
'Well to be honest sir, I have to say that what I want to show you is a little more important than a man and his vices. We all have them after all' Frank said trying to urge the president to get his butt out of Frank's seat.
The small pile of ash on his desk was beginning to bother him too, but Frank would ensure that one of his lackeys took care of that when they left, or not, this was a new dawn after all.
'Well, well, well. This is a very cold day in hell. Frank McQuaid, mister doing everything by the book surely has no vices?' Van Duyn mocked churlishly. 'Be careful my boy, don't let the mindless muppets out there hear you we'll end up with a revolution on our hands' he said, belting out a hearty laugh that made his belly jiggle.
Frank suppressed a smile, not wanting to indulge the fantasy of what he hoped was to come by confirming to the president that what he just uttered was closer to the truth than he realised.
'Shall we get down to the mainframe then?' Frank pressed.
Van Duyn rolled his eyes and took a final drag on his cigar, blowing a cloud of smoke up into the gathered haze he had already generated in the room. He then sprung to his feet and stubbed the cigar out in the middle of Frank's table.
Frank's gaze hung on the ash pile and burned imprint of the cigar tip on his desk, he allowed the tiniest of images to flash in his mind, one where he took Van Duyn's glowing cigar and poked it in his eye, before giving a disingenuous smile.
'Ready to go' he said with an insincere and overly-friendly tone, learned from years of faux hospitality dished out so freely in hotels and eateries in his past.
'I assume this has a little something to do with that prick Numen' said, Van Duyn, his boorish manner rekindled. 'He's a total cow’s arse that one. Always getting in the bloody way and would be better served up on a plate, bloody and rare'.
It was an interesting and colourful metaphor and brought a genuine smile to Frank's face he was no fan of the general’s either, a characteristic he shared with Van Duyn. He chose not to indulge the comment and instead led the surly President out of his office to the epicentre of the UCCA headquarters, leaving the makeshift ashtray on his desk still smoking away.
The United Crime Control Authority mainframe was a giant domed structure at the heart the organisation's headquarters in London, operating as the heart of all of the compounds across the globe. Here was where all monitoring, surveillance and state communications of the Empire took place. Entry was limited to authorised personnel only, gaining access only through a battery of biometric analyses including iris scanning, digital fingerprint reading and brain scan imaging.
The giant bullet-proofed glass dome housed thousands upon thousands of monitors sectioned off into areas of scrutiny teams who ran surveillance of all of the territories in the world. The litany of issues and incidents were all colourfully detailed across the screens allowing the diligent operatives to respond appropriately, delegating security teams to take appropriate action. This was one area where the reliance of robotic substitutes had yet to take off, relying on the decision-making of humans to maintain order and control.
It was an enormous operation, with each key land area being sectioned off into small surveillance teams. The core functioning of all of the territories ran directly through London and the failure of the mainframe would mean that the surveillance infrastructure across the world would be rendered useless, especially if the state messages that were so publicly broadcast started to announce the truth.
Frank and President Van Duyn, flanked by his security officers, now navigated the maze of the boisterous hive of activity. Images from across the world were now flashing up on the screens along with maps with flashing images detailing current events and incidents being attended to by the respective teams of operatives. The morning propaganda broadcast continued to play on a loop on the big screens within the dome, giving the morning commuters their daily dose of state-sponsored faux reality.
'Do you think they still believe all this stuff we feed them?' President Van Duyn asked in reference to the news broadcasts.
'It's not like we have a monopoly on the truth or anything' Frank replied sarcastically. 'To be honest, it doesn't matter whether they believe it or not. None of them are inclined to speak up, they know what the outcome would be'.
Van Duyn was starting to lose his breath, talking and walking was proving difficult for a man of his girth, clearly having enjoyed far too much time of having his head in the trough.
'I'm not quite as fit as I used to be old friend' Van Duyn huffed. 'Are we any closer to you telling me why I am here yet?'
Frank ushered him to a small booth within the giant dome of the surveillance operation. This was the central terminal that was limited to only the very highest operatives at the top of the security clearance level.
'I'm afraid it is just the two of us from here' said Frank placing his hand on the touchpad and lining himself up for the iris and brain scan. 'Your men will have to wait outside'.
The large transparent door opened and allowed him access, welcoming him by name and rank before shutting down and locking the others out. Van Duyn encouraged his men to entertain themselves outside, before running his own biometric scans and joining Director McQuaid within the self-contained vestibule at the core of the mainframe.
The vestibule was compact, able to house no more than a handful of people at any given time. Access was limited to just the three key holders to ensure high levels of security. Only they could make any significant changes to the running of the intelligence operations. Most activities only required a single key holder to be present, but for anything that required a substantial change such as a system reboot, would need at least two of the to be present. There was a giant panel with an array of monitors and a few terminals decorated with levers and computer keypads.
'I don't think I have been here in quite some time' said Van Duyn having now been sealed inside. 'Not since we set this thing up if memory serves me'.
Frank paid little attention and moved directly over to the central monitor. 'I brought you here today, sir, to show this'.
Frank turned the screen towards the president drawing his attention to a series of date-stamped files. The president peered vaguely at the list of video files not entirely sure what he was looking at. He then shrugged his shoulders, a blank and vacant expression taking shape on his face.
'There are data files missing, meaning someone took them' Frank explained a little huffily. 'On the same night that they disappeared, we had an incident here in London which resulted in many of our foot patrols, drones and armoured vehicles being destroyed. Two assailants evaded capture and were never found'.
Van Duyn's eyes shifted to a more serious look now. 'I know the incident you are talking about now. I thought General Numen took care of it' he said, turning his attention to the other monitors showing security footage of the main gate to the compound and a few of streets within London's city limits.
'If by 'take care of it' you mean, he cleaned it up, killing two of my best operatives in the process' Frank snarled. 'Then yes, the general took care of it'.
Van Duyn began to circle the vestibule, like an undecided shopper looking for their next purchase. It intrigued him how the noise in here was so well sheltered from the hubbub outside.
'So this is the brain within the brain?' Van Duyn asked changing the subject.
The unexpected question had taken Frank off guard, and for a brief moment, he gesticulated his uneasiness. 'Well yes, I guess' he stuttered not entirely understanding the point of the question. 'You realise what I have shown you, don't you Mister President?'
Van Duyn spun away from the activity taking place within the dome outside and fixed his serpentine stare on Frank. 'You think I care about some missing files and a couple of dead agents?' Van Duyn snapped. 'Is that really why you have brought me here?'
'Why else would I have invited you here?' Frank enquired not expecting a response. 'Someone other than my agents removed those files and we have no idea where they went' Frank asserted. 'We have had a monumental security breach, sir, we need to reset the system, our operation has been compromised'.
Frank was not sure whether the president was going to buy this story, but if he did then it would mean as per usual Frank would have over-delivered on his promise. He awaited a response, casting a glance at the screens to the front gate where he hoped that Isaac's men would be converging on at any moment. The coast so far remained clear.
'I'm not an expert on these things Frank, but if we do that, reset the system' he said in a mild and measured manner having considered it for a moment. 'Don't we run the risk of leaving ourselves defenceless?'
Frank tried to keep his eyes on the monitor evading the predatory glances his senior was throwing his way. 'The system will be down just a few moments, maybe ten minutes or so, and given the morning commute is over, now is the best time to do it' he explained his voice less convincing than normal.
'You think Numen took the files' Van Duyn asked slowly. ‘Given that the two of us are the only others with means to do so’.
Frank nodded flashing a look into the president's penetrating ice blue eyes, before looking away again. Van Duyn fondled his beard nervously, considering the information carefully. He began to pace around the terminal pondering his options, his demeanour fitting of a predator face-to-face with his prey considering whether to end the chase or not. Van Duyn had never liked Numen and had grown more and more suspicious of his agenda since the Empire had taken over. He had kept him close and within his sphere of confidence to ensure that he could keep a close eye on him. If Frank, whom the president held in the highest esteem, was right then there was a chance that Numen could be looking to oust him. He remembered the shared look that Numen and DuPont had at the Council meeting and Numen had spent time increasing amounts of time away from Europa. Was he about to become a victim of a coup? Had Frank alerted him in time, or was he about to double cross him and assume Numen's role once the president was ousted?
'I spoke with Numen before you arrived' Van Duyn explained finally. 'He will be arriving here at any moment, perhaps then we will get to the bottom of this issue without the need for any unnecessary or potentially catastrophic actions' he said sternly.
The mention of the general's impending arrival did little to quell Frank's growing nervousness. If Numen realised that he had tried to turn Van Duyn against him he would certainly be toast, but more worryingly if he arrived too soon then Jake and the others would be in immense danger and the game would be up. His mind now started to close in on him, his options becoming limited. Frank considered reaching for the gun he had hidden in the drawer beneath the main screen that he had planted here when he first hatched the plan. He had only ever intended to use it if the plan went south, and right now he felt like he was in Antarctica.
As Frank slid the draw open to reach for the gun, an old relic from the past that fired bullets and left gunshot residue, he caught the eye of the president who was staring with a deeply puzzled expression at the monitors behind him.
'Frank' Van Duyn muttered now pointing at the screen. 'What exactly is that?'
Frank held off reaching for the gun and just as he was about to turn to identify the source of consternation, he could see the operatives within the dome of the mainframe hub going berserk. The two guards outside were banging hard on the door, yelling the president's name and then loud alarms began to overpower the disharmony and disarray that had descended upon the usually ordered control room. Red lights flashed menacingly all around them, signalling the start of the rebellion.
Frank jolted into action, as Van Duyn recoiled from the screens now taking in the chaos that was rippling all around them like an erupting volcano. He grasped the metal handgun and now raised it into Van Duyn's direction. By the time the president had turned for a response as to what was happening, he was met with the cold steel of the gun pressed between his eyes. His expression panicked and shocked at this unthinkable betrayal.
'Is this a coup Frank?' Van Duyn said as he was forced to his knees, the barrel of the gun making a soft indent in his skin.
'I guess you're not the only one with access to contraband' Frank replied with a smile, the songs of his favourite band now ringing loudly in his head. 'They always said the revolution would not be televised, well you know what, this one will be and there's nothing you, and Numen, and all you other parasitic pieces of shit can do about. Now shut up, and do exactly what I tell you'.
Frank slammed the butt of the gun down heavily on to the side of Van Duyn's head. The president collapsed to the floor with a load groan, blood seeping from the wound and he began to curse in pain. McQuaid laughed, in the movies, Van Duyn would have been knocked out cold without so much as a scratch and yet here he was screaming blue bloody murder amidst a steady crimson tide. In the frenzied excitement, Frank the rock star had been reborn, the chaos and disorder sounding out the anthem to his resurrection.
The two towers of Tower Bridge loomed large up aheadof the procession of vehicles emerging from both the east and west. Mike had handed over driving duties to Sam when they had joined up with the others near Basingstoke and the younger of the two cousins now had his sights firmly fixed on their target up above.
The original plan had deviated from its original course the moment that the two loyal agents had been neutralised, their manifests and credentials literally went up in smoke. Any orderly entry was not going to be possible, not that it bothered Sam. He could not wait to pump his foot down on the accelerator and start swinging the transporter at the hapless foot soldiers. In fact, he had set himself a target of crushing at least five before they got into the heart of the compound.
Lexi now overtook him, onboard a motorcycle, her short red locks flowing in the wind. She was to zoom ahead and plant the two bombs that were now straddling her seat. They should have had enough power to take care of the main gate which had been repaired since their last expedition into these parts. She revved the engine loudly and left the truck in her slipstream.
The next vehicle to overtake them was a small jeep without a roof that had been commandeered from a military base years before by Wolfy and his clan. It was an old machine that unlike the majority of vehicles these days, ran on petrol. Wolfy was a no nonsense old school type and had no time for the frivolity and innovation of the future. One of his men was in charge of his pride and joy, 'the beast', as he affectionately referred to her, though in true Wolfy fashion whenever he made reference to his treasured jeep he often dropped an f-bomb in the middle.
He was stood up in the back of the vehicle giving the thumbs up to his younger compatriots Mike and Sam. As the jeep passed them a big grin emerged from the grey bush of the beard on his stout chin. He did not look as though he was dressed for war, a pair of ill-fitting khaki shorts and a dark singlet that clutched to his round belly barely covered half of his stocky frame, the rest was all hair.
'That guy is a crazy sonofabitch' Sam commented as he waved back.
'Just be thankful he's on our side then' Mike replied, pointing into the back of the jeep.
Strewn all around him, Wolfy had an arsenal fitting of a small troop. Whilst he was still in their sights he picked up huge rifles and submachine guns, none of which were in use anymore, and raised them up inviting an appraisal from the two of them.
'What the hell is he doing?' Sam said as Wolfy held up an AK-47 with the shrug of his shoulders.
'I have a horrible feeling that he is asking us which weapon he should go with first' Mike replied with a chuckle, he pointed to the rocket launcher next to Wolfy's feet.
In the back of the jeep, Wolfy discarded the machine gun and picked up the rocket launcher with a beaming grin, Mike and Sam simultaneously giving him the thumbs up. It was settled, rockets first then bullets. The jeep now pushed up a gear and began to gain ground on Lexi up ahead.
The heavily fortified front gate had undergone extensive work since the rebel incursion nearly a month earlier. There were now two guard posts either side of the gate which retracted from the middle to allow entry into the compound. A solitary armed drone loitered behind it, just above the clearance of the first of the two towers and the second gate. The third one had yet to be fixed and the shipment of it and the foot soldiers to man it were due on a shipment today, the same shipment that had been the explosive end of Otto and his men a few hours earlier.
On the security monitors at the first gate, the lone image of a girl on a motorcycle hurtling towards them could be seen. Four foot soldiers now gathered in a line at the gate, switching their rifles out of safety mode and ready to fire. Under no circumstances did this vehicle have any business here.
'Raise the bridge' the lead first soldier announced, a signal being sent from the front gate to the second one. 'Get ready to fire'.
The raising of the bridge was not something that could be done quickly, nor was it a measure taken under normal circumstances, it was part of a new protocol that had been put in place. As the bridge was about to begin its five-minute elevation sequence a loud crunching sound emerged behind them with two loud explosions thundering from beneath the two tower hubs, destroying the hydraulic system beneath.
The guards seemed to have been caught off guard and Lexi's image could now be seen approaching the gate. The sound of the explosion and the motorcycle's engine acting as a distraction to the noise of the engines now charging behind her of Wolfy, and Mike and Sam.
The remainder of the rebels had camped at the bottom of the bridge ready to be waved into action once the security systems had been taken out.
Lexi was ominously close to the gate now, the bombs on the back of the bike and a nuclear pulse rifle fixed in under her right arm. She unleashed a shot from the gun and it smashed into the gate making a small dent, she fired a few more times, each time leaving a slightly larger indentation, but nothing that would penetrate the almighty steel gate.
The shots that had been fired from the rifle had not made any impact upon the security gate, but the flare of each of the shot impacts had destroyed the cameras at the front rendering the guards blind to the activity on the bridge. The images had flashed with each shot burning the screens. They flickered purple and red before sparking out and fading into darkness as the cameras expired.
'Open the gate. It's just one girl' the foot soldier commanded.
Lexi saw the opening and twisted hard on the handle propelling the motorcycle towards the hole that was slowly opening. She let out a roar and squeezed several times on the trigger as something hot, shot past her shoulder like a speeding bullet and towards the wall of soldiers who were now coming into view.
Just as they set to let rip, the two soldiers exposed by the opened gate took the full force of Wolfy's rocket and exploded upon impact, their decimated carcases catapulting the others left and right. Lexi continued headlong through the gap that emerged into the path of the drone that faced her, she jumped into the air allowing the bike to pass under her, shooting at the drone.
The bike slid onto its side and hurtled towards the second gate. Lexi landed heavily on her back shooting again in the direction of the drone that was now firing piercing bolts of fire into the road below, inching ever closer to her position. She scrambled to her feet and now began to run after the stricken motorcycle, firing at the unexploded bombs at the back dodging the rain of fire coming from the drone above. The roar of 'the beast' now burst in through the front gates, Wolfy having had time to reload now fired a rocket into the drone, blowing it to smithereens and out of the sky. It crashed like a meteor from outer space, igniting the bombs on the back of Lexi's discarded motorcycle which ripped through the two towers obliterating the guard patrol and gate with ease.
'Now that's what I call a fricking party!' Wolfy yelled in sheer ecstasy, or words to that effect.
Mike and Sam's truck came up alongside him having crushed a couple of guards who had emerged from the wreckage of the gate posts at the entrance. They continued to charge past giving a thumbs up as they passed him. They caught a view of Wolfy in the wing mirror, 'the beast' having now spun back towards the exit and the hairy little man could be seen taking care of the threat of the guards who had survived the initial blast. They passed Lexi, who bar a few scrapes and bruises seemed in good shape for the next steps and was now running along the bridge to the entrance to the city.
The truck careened through the strewn wreckage of the fallen drone and decimated foot soldiers. Fire and metal splashed across the road like a new age piece of art. They smashed through the disembowelled remains of the second gate to something they had not anticipated: armoured jeeps and a wall of foot soldiers.
Mike and Sam now looked at each other, shocked expressions mirroring one another.
'See you on the other side' Sam said, before slamming his foot down the accelerator.
They were fired upon from all sides, bolts of burning rage smashing into the engine and cabin, setting the truck ablaze. The huge transporter now appeared to jack knife and the rear trailer swung around to the front and crashed onto the road separating from the truck and cabin that housed Mike and Sam. The trailer shot along the road like a torpedo sparking violently towards the assembled roadblock; a runaway train with no one at the controls.
The truck cra