Tamsin Beech Ch. 10: Soteria

"Get the fuck outta here!" he yelled at the last few of his Reekie companions left alive. If the Armata's commander was on the ball, a high explosive shell would be coming their way any second.

But they weren't listening. Using crossbows and Kalashnikovs they leaned out of cover and endeavoured to keep the few Coalition troops crouched behind the T-14 pinned down. They'd seen what McTavish was carrying, and were aware that all he needed was a few seconds to make use of it.

McTavish hoisted the RPG-26 Aglen onto his bare shoulder as the T-14's fearsome Kord machine gun rotated around to cover the Reekies' position.

Staring into the barrel of the Coalition gun, he took aim, thumbed the safety off and slid a finger inside the trigger guard, "Take this ye Russian bastard."

TAKATAKATAK!

Bullets ripped through McTavish's body, splintering bone and shredding internal organs, just as ...

WHOOSH!

... he squeezed the trigger. The projective fired from the Aglen - the recoil knocking McTavish's lifeless, broken body to the ground. His aim was a little off. The rocket struck the road beneath the tank ...

... and exploded - the thin, corroded section of the T-14's hull taking the full force of the blast. Shrapnel and fragments of its crumbling armour plate tore through the cramped compartment inside. Howling for blood, the remaining Reekies immediately erupted from their cover and charged ...

. . .

Just off Aberlady Bay in the Firth of Forth, the Coalition guided missile destroyer Bezuprechny unleashed one of its Mosquito anti-ship missiles. The entire vessel rocked as the sleek grey projectile blasted skyward amid a plume of orange fire and white smoke ...

... and rocketed southward towards Lindisfarne.

. . .

Sparks erupted from the console in front of them as a collosal explosion rocked the very foundations of Lindisfarne Castle. A crash sounded from the Ship Room above their heads as one of the old chandeliers smashed into a million glittering fragments. Dust sifted down from the Soteria bunker's ceiling as two of the monitors went suddenly blank.

"Wha' the fuck was that? That was no tank!" Phoebe yelled from the vestibule.

"It's Zakhvatchikov. I'd guess one of the guided missile destroyers in the Coalition fleet! They're on to us," Jessamy snatched a tiny CO2 fire extinguisher from a wall bracket and quickly put out the flames flickering from a cracked panel, "Laura! Damage report!"

"TARGETING SYSTEM AT 39.5% EFFICIENCY ..."

"Fuck! They've damaged the targeting system," Tamsin swore, "will we still be able to hit them?"

TARGETING SYSTEM NOW AT 38% EFFICIENCY ..."

Jessamy sucked in her breath, "Twenty six ships out of twenty seven. They're stationary ... so I don't see why not. But it's now or never ..."

"TARGETING SYSTEM NOW AT 36.5% EFFICIENCY ..."

Tamsin nodded her agreement.

Jessamy closed her eyes and whispered softly, the words barely audible, "Ada ... if you're alive sweetheart ... please forgive me," then she straightened in her chair and addressed the console, "Laura ... FIRE!"

. . .

A millisecond after the order had left Jessamy Beech's lips, every satellite in range of the Firth of Forth simultaneously opened fire. An almost invisible pulse of plasma energy erupted from each in total, absolute silence.

PART THREE: THE DYING OF THE LIGHT

A series of painfully bright flashes bloomed in rapid succession somewhere to the north. From a vantage point on top of Edinburgh Castle the Reekies watched immense searing white fireballs consume the Firth of Forth like nuclear explosions, as millions of cubic metres of seawater were vapourised in an instant, sending blast wave after blast wave of debris and steam surging outward.

The North Sea instantly poured in to fill the voids, boiling as it mixed with what Soteria had wrought. Seconds later the Coalition's colonists in New Moscow heard the sound. Dull cracks like lightning strikes but amplified a million fold. The ground trembled beneath them in Dunbar and as far south as Berwick Upon Tweed. Ripples across the water's surface grew to become towering cascades as shockwaves ripped across the inlet, scouring Inchkeith Island, swamping harbours at Leith, Cockenzie and Burntisland, destroying fishing boats and sweeping away the iconic Forth Railway Bridge.

Even at such a distance, the wind shook the windows of Lindisfarne Castle in their frames, leaving the air scented with a stench of ozone and burning sulphur.

It was done.

"TWENTY SIX TARGETS DESTROYED. FINAL TARGET IS UNDERWAY ... CURRENTLY HEADING SOUTH SOUTH-EAST AT TWENTY KNOTS."

For a moment Jessamy couldn't bring herself to speak. How many lives had they just ended? And could one of them have possibly been her own youngest daughter? "Uh, L-laura? Recharge satellites and prepare to fire on final target."

The synthesized voice responded immediately, "THERE HAS BEEN A MALFUNCTION. TARGETING SYSTEM NOW AT 15% EFFICIENCY ..."

Tamsin looked across at Jessamy, her face creased with concern, "What does she mean ... a-a malfunction?"

"SOTERIA SYSTEM AT THIS LOCATION HAS SUSTAINED DAMAGE," continued the voice, "TARGETING SYSTEM NOW AT 9% EFFICIENCY ..."

"So, what?" asked Jessamy, "we can't shoot?"

"AFFIRMATIVE. BUNKER SYSTEMS OPERATING AT 37.5% EFFICIENCY. SENSORS AT 40% EFFICIENCY. TARGETING SYSTEM NOW AT 3% EFFICIENCY ..."

"Fuck! Laura? Can you at least identify the final target?"

"NEGATIVE. SENSORS NOW AT 39% EFFICIENCY ..."

"We can't shoot and we don't even know which ship it is that's getting away. It could be Zakhvatchikov's flagship for all we know."

"Mum!" called Phoebe's worried voice from the vestibule, "ye better get out here ..." then more urgently, "COME QUICKLY!"

Terrified of what they'd find, Tamsin rushed out after her aunt as Laura the Soteria computer continued, "SENSORS NOW AT 36% EFFICIENCY. TARGETING SYSTEM NO LONGER FUNCTIONING ..."

Hamnavoe was lying where they'd left him, lying on the concrete floor with his head cushioned by Phoebe's rolled up jacket. His breathing was now so shallow that at first Tamsin thought he was already dead. Phoebe gripped the old Scot's hand as Jessamy knelt by his side, "Angus? Cummon major! Talk to me."

All the effort they'd gone to getting Hamnavoe to Lindisfarne had been an utter waste of time, thought Tamsin. How could they have known that Jessamy herself still had authority to access the bunkers? Hamnavoe could have stayed in Kirkwall and died in peace. Without the stress of the journey he may have lived days or even weeks longer. But it only would have been prolonging the inevitable ...

Hamnavoe's eyelids flickered, "Hey JB. Is ... is it done?"

Jessamy Beech nodded, biting back tears, "Yes. Yes Angus, it's done. We've saved the world yet again."

"No small thanks COUGH ... to yer niece there."

Tamsin shook her head, "That's bollocks Angus. We couldn't have done it without you. When we're back on our feet I'll see a statue gets put up in your honour," she knew that the old man would feel satisfied that he'd played a small part in the Coalition's defeat.

Hamnavoe gave a subtle shake of the head and with tears gathering in his eyes, glanced around at the three of them in turn - Jessamy his beloved wife, Phoebe his stepdaughter, and Tamsin his niece, "No ye willnae. If ye want to honour me, just ... look after each other COUGH an' ... make this fucked up world a better place," his face contorted for a moment with pain, "... Jess? ..."

"What is it Angus?" Jessamy leaned closer as Hamnavoe's voice faded to a whisper.

His time was near. The last moments between a husband and wife were a sacred thing. Precious moments and seconds that Tamsin felt she had no right to intrude on. With a final nod of sincerest respect to Hamnavoe, she pushed herself to her feet, drew her Grach and climbed the steps up out of the bunker.

Sunlight streamed in through the Ship Room's cracked windows as Tamsin paused, listening for any sounds of gunfire from outside or from the village. Would Zakhvatchikov's Spetsnaz continue fighting now their fleet was destroyed? Would McTavish and the other Reekies even give them chance to surrender if they didn't?

Her boots crunched quietly on splinters of smashed chandelier as she shifted her weight ...

But there was nothing. Through the open door leading out onto the Lower Battery came the peeping sound of a flock of oystercatchers flying past the castle in tight formation, and the sound of waves lapping at the shingle beach by the lime kilns. But no gunfire. No screams or trundling of tanks on the pitted road.

Tamsin stepped outside and peered around. Offshore under an intense blue morning sky she could just make out her parents onboard the Kerrera II, standing at the trawler's bow looking intently northward to what appeared to be a vast fog bank stretching across the horizon. Merida spotted her and waved, as a chill autumnal breeze ruffled the weeds sprouting from the castle's parapet.

Soteria had effectively vapourised the Firth of Forth and virtually everything in it. She'd heard from Jessamy what the charged particle beam weapons did, and realised that no such godlike power should exist anywhere in the world. It was time to set war and revenge aside and concentrate on rebuilding, not killing off what few survivors remained. With her aunt's authority could they order Laura to permanently disable the entire network?

Possibly. Tamsin limped out on to the castle's entry ramp to go in search of McTavish ... as behind her a cry of utter despair echoed up from the bunker.

. . .

Volk turned shakily away from the Baekdusan's cracked bridge windows too stunned to speak. In an instant the dreams and ambitions of the entire Coalition had been crushed by a destructive force the like of which none of them had ever seen.

Meteorite strikes from the rogue asteroid Thanatos had at least left rubble and mangled evidence that there had once been something there before - a town, a bridge, or a ship perhaps. But of the Coalition fleet there was nothing left. Every major warship including the Lenin had simply been vapourised, then the smaller vessels ripped apart or dashed against the muddy banks of the Firth of Forth.

Soteria. NATO's forty year old network of defence satellites. It had to be.

Ludmila Mudak had curled up in a corner of the Baekdusan's bridge and wept, shaken by grief. Volk had never seen her looking so weak and vulnerable. But he could offer no comfort. They'd all seen what had happened and they'd all been affected - traumatised, to some degree.

If the colony of New Moscow had survived, they were on their own. Keeping the Baekdusan's nuclear weapons safe in order to retaliate had to be his top priority. But they were in no fit state. The carrier had sustained considerable damage when a Coalition tanker had slammed into her starboard side, thrown by one of the shockwaves that had surged out into the North Sea. Captain Geomi would have to find somewhere to make repairs.

All of them, would need time to tend their wounds and make plans. The Baekdusan limped slowly south, listing heavily to one side and leaving behind the towering column of vapour that had once been the Coalition's fleet.

THE END OF CHAPTER TEN

Many of the surviving Reekies had left. To scavenge what they could from the Coalition dead or else hunt down the few scared conscripts that had fled the island. The ones that remained, wounded or exhausted by the day's momentous battle, collected on Castle Point that evening in respectful silence. Blood spattered with trophies of Coalition helmets, jackets, weapons or in some cases scalps, they came to pay their respects to Tamsin - an outsider who'd put vengeance firmly in their grasp.

The irony wasn't lost on her. Years before in Berwick Upon Tweed, they'd killed her brother. And now she'd responded by giving them their freedom.

Their clan leader - Fraser, was dead. Killed while dropping a Molotov cocktail into the turret of one of the three Armatas. Her loyal resistance scout - McTavish, was also regrettably dead, along with over three quarters of the army they'd set out from Edinburgh with.

Their victory had cost them dearly.

Standing between her parents Ross and Merida, Tamsin Beech watched the Kerrera II bobbing on the outgoing tide just offshore, feeling emotionally drained. The trawler's anchor had been raised and the boat allowed to gradually drift away from the island. Its final voyage. Weapons, supplies and their shortwave radio had been removed and brought ashore and the body of Major Angus James Banavie - better known as Hamnavoe, had been placed onboard wrapped carefully in velvet curtains taken from Volk's office.

On the shoreline, Jessamy Beech nocked an arrow to her bow and held the cloth wrapped tip over a burning brazier. She'd never forget the look in her husband's eyes as he breathed his final few breaths, whispering lines from an old country song from before Thanatos, "I will see ye again. This is no' where it ends."

If it turned out there was indeed an afterlife, Jessamy could think of no-one else she'd rather spend eternity with. Hamnavoe had more or less ordered her and Phoebe to look out for one another. He'd smiled his lop-sided smile one last time. Then he'd died.

Jessamy released the flaming arrow. It arced out over the waves and thunked into the oil soaked timbers of the Kerrera II. The deck immediately burst into flames as Phoebe too launched her own arrow. Then more from the Reekies - until the battered old fishing boat was completely ablaze, being carried steadily farther out to sea. A fitting funeral for an old warrior.

Merida Beech slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders, "Hamnavoe would've liked this."

Tamsin nodded, forcing a smile, "We succeeded. That's all that matters."

After a respectful hour, Tamsin had re-entered the castle's Soteria bunker to speak with her aunt. Jessamy had been devastated by Hamnavoe's death but nevertheless used her authorisation to permanently deactivate the Soteria network. The satellites' beam weapons would never fire again.

"Now we can start rebuilding properly," the flames from the burning trawler reflected orange in Merida's moist eyes, "Thanatos is gone and ... the Coalition fleet ... is gone."

Tamsin frowned, watching her mother's expression, "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Merida looked uncomfortable, "We, uh ... picked up some radio chatter. Just before the satellites opened fire. The president, your grandfather ... is dead."

Tamsin shrugged, somewhat confused, "Mum, we wiped out their fleet. Of course he's dead."

"He was dead before that."

Tamsin wasn't quite sure how she felt about the news. Vladimir Zakhvatchikov had been the enemy after all. Of that there was no doubt. But he'd also been her grandfather. As preoccupied as she'd been with seeing the plan through to the end, she hadn't even given it a thought that Soteria would be killing one of her relatives. So to be presented with the news came as a shock.

She'd been hoping for some kind of confrontation if the resistance had ever found itself in this position. Tamsin was unprepared for being cheated of that.

"That's not all," her mother continued, "before he died my father named his successor. Volk."

"Volk? President Volk?" Tamsin was stunned. For a matter of quite possibly only a few minutes, Volk had become the most powerful figure in the Coalition. If not the world. With the North Koreans' nuclear weapons at his disposal, how close had they come to complete disaster?

Now he too was dead. Vapourised. A great weight of responsibility seemed to lift from Tamsin's shoulders as she snuggled against her mother's side.

But she couldn't help feeling a sense of unease, like sitting with one's back to an open door through which all manner of evil might come slithering and crawling at any moment. Volk had always lived a charmed life, rising through the ranks and never having to get his hands dirty doing any of the actual wet work. It seemed that - up until now at least, he'd always found himself in the right place at the right time ...

The fleet destroyed and the Coalition beaten. Could things really be that simple?

COMING SOON ... CHAPTER ELEVEN: FORT GEORGE