Christopher
The word “apocalypse” strikes fear in almost anyone. “Armageddon,” “rapture,” and “holocaust” all bring the same sort of terror. For centuries, it signified the end of the world, but it wasn’t until recently that “nuclear” has become an option.
And it seems like that’s now the largest fear everyone has.
Chapter 1
Estella Blanche knew there was no other way. But she wished there was. She was wearing a protective suit over her usual clothes and a gas mask. The bomb, which was in front of her, had been discovered by a security officer patrolling the basement of the Rogers Centre. He had gone straight to the OPP’s bomb squad, who immediately assessed the situation. They had never seen such a model and therefore didn’t know how to defuse it.
They called the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, hoping they knew how to defuse it themselves. Estella, their head of Weaponry, was the only one who had seen the bomb before. She was rushed there immediately while the city was being evacuated.
Heart pounding, Estella tried not to look at the timer and focused on the wires attached to the bomb. Despite being the only one who’s seen that particular model before, she wasn’t aware of how to defuse it. It was a dangerous task, she knew. The plutonium in the middle of the bomb was highly radioactive and the timer was counting down quickly.
Estella took a deep breath and calmed herself with the thought that Toronto was being evacuated. She cut a wire and looked at the timer, thankful that it stopped. But in the dead silence of the basement, she could hear something ticking away. Curious, she followed the sound back into the bomb. She took off the case concealing the LCD display and found that the bomb was still counting down.
1:49... 1:48... 1:47... Estella was taken by surprise. She couldn’t see anything that would defuse the bomb. Trying not to panic, she searched again, looking for the wires that she could cut.
1:15... 1:14... 1:13...
Estella hands were sweating now. She took a few wires in her hand and looked at them, watching where they led. She wasn’t sure which one it was. She exhaled in exasperation. If only she had more time... She risked one more look at the clock.
0:59... 0:58... 0:57...
“Dear God,” she breathed through her mask. She had less than a minute to decide what to do. She took a deep breath and concentrated her energy, then Estella stepped away from the bomb. She was going to contain it. It was her last option and she prayed that it worked. The bomb was counting down, the detonation point drawing ever closer.
0:10... 0:09... 0:08...
Estella focused her energy and sent out a force field covering the bomb. The blast was more than she had anticipated. Feeding her force fields more energy, she could feel herself getting weaker and weaker. She pushed forward, but her arms were getting tired, her legs giving way. The shockwave was fighting to get out. Estella put one last thrust of energy before blacking out.
--
Estella lay in her hospital bed. The sound of the nurses rushing around the halls made her aware that it was currently a very populated hospital. Remembering why she was here, she sighed and sat up. The bomb wasn’t as weak as she had first thought. There must have been many casualties.
She looked over to see her younger brother, Christopher, sitting on the chair beside her bed. "I assume you want to know what happened," he said. Estella nodded weakly. He took a deep breath and looked at her, slightly sad. "The bomb, had you not used a force field, would've killed you. In fact, at least half of the survivors have you to thank. We managed to get some of the fallout from the nuclear blast. Your lab techs are analyzing it now. But it could take some time. As for you -- your condition is stable. You should be out in a few days. You were out for three days, in case you were wondering. I decided to not awaken you until I knew you wouldn't be in much pain."
Thanks... she sent him, not wanting to speak. He was a telepath, and he had decided to keep his channel open to Estella only unless the situation required someone else’s mind to be read.
Christopher stood up and smiled. "Get your rest for now. There'll be a briefing waiting for you once you're out."
Estella smiled and closed her eyes.
--
Christopher left the hospital and mounted his motorcycle. Get better soon, Estella. He took off for the underground tunnels that led to CSIS' base beneath Toronto. Upon arrival, he dismounted and brought his helmet with him.
Estella's lab was large and open. Everything had its place, and there were several computers lined up against the wall. He walked in to see her deputy analyzing the data. "Any idea where it came from?" My guess is Russia, he thought.
“None yet,” replied Sarah Cole, Estella’s deputy. The woman was several years older than Estella was, and had little luck of replacing her any time soon. She was a tall woman, very intelligent -- at least Christopher had heard she was. She was standing over a microscope with her glasses in her hand.
Christopher gave a single nod and sat down at Estella’s oak desk, placing his helmet beside the computer. It was full, but not cluttered – Estella tried to keep her workspace as organised as possible. He leafed through the many designs she had been working on. Then, he turned on Estella’s computer and activated the webcam. He had been meaning to speak with the head of CSIS for some time now. A woman appeared in the screen. She had blond hair that she had tied back and wore an expensive dress suit. Christopher typically saw her not as a spymaster, but as a teacher. And she often looked like one. “Maybe that’s what she is trying to look like,” Estella had mused before.
The woman was widely known as O, but her real name was Rachel Orwell.
“The results have yet to come back,” said Christopher. “But Estella is recovering well.”
O was not in the mood for minor facts. “Anything of more importance?” she asked testily.
“No. Well, not yet.” He looked to Estella’s deputy, anxious.
“I have the result from the fallout!” she called. Christopher sighed. Ms Cole had come in just in time.
“What is it?”
“Cuban.”
He turned back to O. “We have Cuban plutonium used in the bombs.”
O nodded, satisfied. “Thank you. I’ll send that to the Prime Minister right away.” The connected was dropped. Christopher sank into his sister’s chair and let out a sigh. There wasn’t much for him to do right now. He decided to get some rest and return in the morning.
--
Christopher arrived at the hospital the next day to see Estella on her feet. He smiled. "Good to know you've recovered." He was leaning in the doorframe.
Estella nodded and put her jacket on. "The radiation isn't bothering you too much?" Christopher’s telepathy, Estella found out a few years back, was strongly affected by radiation. He had lost control because of it several times before.
He shrugged. "I can only read thoughts, I can't control them. Or send psychic blasts. Well, I can, but it's weak." He sighed. "I do think I'll eventually build immunity to it."
Estella smiled. "I'm sure of it. Until then, we should go." Christopher nodded and made for the underground base beneath Toronto.
The tunnel system was built so the people within CSIS could get around the Greater Toronto Area with ease and efficiency. It was a large and expensive project, and it wasn’t finished until the year 2008, twenty years after the project had begun. With the help of Estella, it was finished years ahead of schedule. The majority of the GTA live without even knowing it existed.
The tunnels itself were large. Fifty feet below the street level, the tunnels were built to withstand incredible weight. Several politicians were debating whether to turn it into a new system for the TTC.
Christopher mounted his motorcycle. He had learned to ride the day he turned sixteen and came home to see that his sister had bought him one as a birthday present. He had done something similar for Estella.
Estella mounted behind her brother and put on her helmet. “You sure you’re okay to ride?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Christopher,” she insisted. “Just go.” He nodded and hit the accelerator.
The distance from the hospital to the underground base of CSIS was only a few miles. And, without the traffic they’d have to worry about above, they reached the centre of the base within minutes. Christopher and Estella dismounted and he pulled the motorcycle to the side.
Estella’s heels clambered on the floor, echoing around the tunnel. Christopher followed closely behind and the two went through security before entering the conference room.
The double doors opened to a wide room with a long table at the centre of it. Several chairs were placed around it, with eight men and women waiting for them. O sat at the head of the table. There were television monitors all around the room. All flat screens, all state-of-the-art. Estella and Christopher took their seats. The screens flickered to life. The meeting had begun.
“A message from MI6,” said one of the men who appeared on the screens. He had a distinctive British accent. “The fallout we’ve received originated from Russia.” Christopher was confused, Russia?
"The CIA has confirmed the origin from their fallout. North Korea.” It was a woman, but the background showed she was somewhere in California. Christopher shook his head. This wasn’t making much sense. Bombs usually used the same plutonium. Unless there were multiple attackers involved...
"Confirmation," said the next man, his French accent evident. "Fallout -- German."
O nodded. “Thank you. I will return the favour as I’m sure you’re all wondering what ours is.” There were several responses of “Yes” and “Please.” “Our fallout came from Cuba.”
The many spies around the world seemed to write things down. The woman passed the message off to a runner.
"You're bloody lucky you had someone to contain the blast," the British man said. "We lost almost the entire population of London."
Christopher shrugged. "At least you only got one bomb. Ottawa was hit too." O gave him a sharp gaze and he sat back, not saying anything further. This was not the time to be arguing.
"We had two bombs. New York City and Washington DC were both hit. God, it's 9/11 all over again." It was the woman with the CIA this time.
"9/11 wasn't this bad," commented the Frenchman. "You didn't have to worry about nuclear fallout."
“Fallout or not, this is a direct attack at the United States! We’re not going to take this lightly.”
“Alright, everybody!” O stood up. “We all have the information we need. This meeting is finished.” She pressed a button on the table and the spies around the world were all disconnected.
--
Xander watched as the screen in front of him turned black. Sighing, he took his notes from the meeting and made his way to the office where Richard Craig was waiting for the news. The headquarters of MI6 was currently very busy. Xander was glad he wasn’t in the laboratory area; those were chaotic on a normal day.
Down the hall was a large office with a man at the end. He was wearing a black suit and his desk was covered in neatly placed files. The man had blue eyes and greying hair. His name was Richard Craig – the head of MI6. Or, more commonly known as 3 throughout the circles of spies around the world. Xander sat down opposite of 3. He was in his office enough times before. The man didn’t even look up.
“The meeting went as planned. We have the results and the bombed countries.”
3 looked up at Xander. “Good. And they were?”
“The Canadians were bombed with Cuban plutonium. The Americans have North Korean. And the French were bombed with German plutonium.”
“Is that all?”
Xander nodded. “That’s all that you asked for.” He watched as the head spymaster turned over his options. Xander was quietly hoping he’d be sent into the field. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to just sit around and do paper work all day. The spymaster nodded after five long minutes. “You can go. But keep alert. I might need you later.”
Xander, disappointed, stood and showed himself out. It was back to paper work after all.
I don't like this chapter much. Critiques are more than welcome.
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