_
-Prologue-
Rain pelted the window as lightning struck in the distance. Two men sat at a hard wooden desk, the second with two guards standing to attention at his shoulders. One was dressed in a pristine white overcoat and had dark, anti-flash glasses on, while the second was dressed in a deep purple suit, complete with tie. While one pair of thousand dollar boots clicked against the lino floor, the thirty dollar sneakers of the man in white stayed silent and still.
“What did you call me here for?” The first man asked. The second man didn’t meet the first man’s eyes; instead they were flicking like a blur over the creaseless pages in front of him.
“Your name is Benjamin Alfonso Briggs?” The second man asked, ignoring the question. Briggs nodded. “Where were you in June, two months ago?”
Briggs looked down at the table and then licked his lips.
“You know full well where I was. You’d have it in your fancy folder.” Briggs snarled and put his palms on the table. “This is why you called me here? ‘Cause of that. I thought that was in my past.” The purple suited man just smiled.
“Your folder does tell of your anger outbreaks, Benjamin. But not of the events that transpired last year.” The suited man replied, calming facing Briggs’ anger. Briggs, realising that anger would get him nowhere, began to settle down.
“I will tell you anything but those weeks.” One of the guards stepped forward, but the suited man waved his hand.
“You wouldn’t want Jargon here to hurt you would you?” The suited man almost chuckled.
“You think I’ll be scared of that? I saw more things on the ice than you will in your entire life. You would have crapped yourself silly.” Briggs shot, but once again the suited man just starred at the folder.
“Language, Benjamin. Anyway, we are starting to make progress. On the ice? The events happened on the ice of Antarctica?” Briggs glanced down slightly, but the suited man caught the movement. “I suspected as much. Tsunamis don’t happened for no reason. Something had to melt and Antarctica is the prime location. Yes? Or shall we let Jargon take over?” Briggs spat on the table as the suited man said Jargon’s name. The second guard stepped forward, much fast than he should have and grabbed Briggs’ arms, pinning them in a very uncomfortable position.
Jargon stepped forward, grinning and raised his fist high. The suited man stood up and approached Briggs.
“Shall we talk?”
-1-
The Coalition of Forces
The boat was lashed with icy water and Briggs found it hard to keep his eyes open, as the salt burned his exposed eyes.
“You okay, Doc?” The man sitting behind him asked and Briggs momentarily spun around to reply to the Australian SAS Lieutenant, named Harry Davis Brines, call sign: The Grim.
“I’m okay Brines.” He roared over the raging swell. Brines patted the shoulder of Briggs’ now thoroughly soaked-through white overcoat. The soldier in front of Briggs laughed openly.
“What is so funny Samson?” Briggs asked and the hulking SAS Sergeant Major, swung around on his seat.
“You, Doc.” Jackson Hanson Samson, call sign The Hulk, replied. Most of his fellow squad mates called him Threesons. The other two members of the squad were named Gunnery Sergeant Mitch Luigi Black, call sign Shadow and Lance Corporal James Dean Khaki, call sign Mantis. Black was the squad sniper and Khaki was the technician. Brines was the squad leader and Samson was the heavy weapons expert. The last two were accompanying Briggs on one row boat, while Black and Khaki were in the second with Threesons’ weapons and rockets.
The destination: the first meeting of all the armies, navies, air forces and secret service of the world. And Briggs was one of the co-founders of the meet. The name of the meeting: The Coalition of Forces. Representatives from each of the four different combat groups, from each major country from around the world were gathering to discuss one thing. Peace.
As no one country could either host or visit another country, for fear of infiltration, assassination or other war-like acts, which could send the Coalition of Forces into one big blood bath, the chosen continent for the meeting was the freezing waters of Antarctica. Briggs and four other genius minds from around the globe had given birth to the one idea of a joint peace effort, once and for all. Although it had taken until 2024, starting in 2014, for all countries to agree, it had eventually taken flight. Four years of building, planning and decisions had gone into it at this point and by 2028 the meeting halls had been finished. Briggs had named it the Compound of Worlds or, rather funnily known as COW, and the name had stuck. There were separate sleeping quarters, all acting as embassies in their own rights and temples, mosques and churches had to be built as well, for the countries to continue worship. The COW was in itself a living, striving community, with shops, stalls and meeting places. The compound had enough food to last four months. It covered twenty square kilometres and rose ten stories high. Hence the four year building period.
Briggs frowned slightly. The compound technically wasn’t finished yet. The sixth floor was off limits, because the scaffolds and building equipment were dangerous. A recreation area was to go into that floor, in between the floor for the Americans and Irish and the floor for the Chinese, Russian and Germany.
With recreational activities on every level from three up, it didn’t really matter though. Only thing missing was a movie theatre.
“Sir!” Threesons roared over the howling winds. “Briggs!” Briggs snapped back into reality.
“What!” He yelled back, suddenly feeling the icy rain sloshing around his feet.
“Sir! The docks are dead ahead!” Threesons replied and Briggs half grinned. As well as being a small city in its own rights, COW was controlled by a super computer housed one floor underground, which could only be accessed by the main elevators if one of only five cards were inserted into the slot above the buttons. Briggs had one and the other four co-founders had the other four. The super computer had been named Bessie, because of the COW name.
“There it is, Briggs!” Khaki’s voice crackled over the radio. Khaki and Black were ahead and had, Briggs assumed, seen the lighthouse of the docks. After the docks, a series of hollowed out tunnels, reinforced with steel walls, roof and floor, led to the Ronne Ice Shelf. This shelf met the sea at the Weddell Sea cove, which was where the two boats were floating in right at this moment. A fog horn sounded in the distance and Briggs’ frown turned into a wide smile. His 20 years of work and labour was finally paying off. A shining beam slashed through the heavy rain and Briggs saw at last what Black and Khaki had seen minutes before. The COW lighthouse. Located on a floating piece of ice, reaching down to the sea bank, what was supposed to have been a temporary observatory had changed over four years into a lighthouse and radio tower. Eight men operated it every second of every day, with twenty four men housed within it. Taking it in breaks, the teams watched the seas for ships that could bring harm to the ice shelfs, therefore jeopardising the Compound of Worlds and the Coalition of Forces.
“Home sweet home.” Briggs muttered under his breath. As soon as the tenth level was completed, two and a half years ago, Briggs had asked for a room their and a lab to continue his works. The tenth floor had grown around the wide open spaces of his house. For that was what was on each floor. Fifty apartments at least, each as big as a house, with shops and restaurants on each floor, as well as clothe shops and recreational areas, like pubs, clubs and video game arcades. The most recent additions to the floors were temples, mosques and churches. These were placed according to whom the floor was made for.
“The lighthouse is signalling something.” Brines loudly muttered behind Briggs. The white coated scientist looked up and saw that, although Briggs had already believed him, Brines had been right. The lighthouse was signalling a piece of broken ice near the two small boats location.
“Threesons!” Briggs called and the hulking giant swung around.
“Doc?” The large man replied.
“There is a large piece of ice in front of us. We can’t go through the ice tunnel. We have to pull up on the Edge and take the overpass to the Compound.” Behind Briggs, Brines swore.
“I could take an hour to do that and we would be stuck in the rain for longer.” The Lieutenant called and the radio crackled to life.
“Brines!” Black’s voice barked out. Brines grabbed the radio off Briggs.
“Black. Turn to your right. We have to take the overpass way to get to the Compound. There’s a bloody great piece of ice in the way.” Brines yelled into the radio. The radio was silent for a few seconds and then:
“What the hell man! We’ll freeze to death. Khaki doesn’t have to lug this explosives crap across the ice does he?” Black asked quickly. Brines grinned, looking a the giant at the front of the boat.
“Threesons will have it.”
Briggs had his white overcoat wrapped around his shoulders tightly, watching Threesons heave his explosive ordnance over the slushy ice. Something struck Briggs.
“Brines!” He called and the Lieutenant appeared at his shoulder.
“Doc?” The young man asked. Briggs growled.
“Stop calling me that Brines.” Briggs said through gritted teeth.
“What? Doc? We call you that ‘cause you look like a dentist in your white overcoat. Anyway, what did you want, Briggs?”
“Brines. This is a peace meeting, yet you are all fully armed and Threesons has explosives on top of his firearm. You going to gate crash my party?” Briggs asked and Brines chuckled, his boots punching holes in the mushy ice.
“No way, Doc, ah, Briggs.” Brines replied, his face lit up with a smile. “We just don’t trust some of the fellas that will be with the representatives of the armed forces of each country. Safety precautions. You know?” Briggs kept his face to the front.
“Lucky I decided to make metal detectors and a weapon storage. There will be no firefights while the conference is going on. And that could take months for all I know.”
“What could take months?” An English voice punched through the chilly air and Briggs and Brines stopped in their tracks, spinning around. Before them stood six English soldiers, the front one wearing a dark red beret on an angle, the other five totting Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns. Brines gripped his F88S-A2 AuSteyr tighter. The Heckler and Koch MP5 was a German made gun, capable of pumping out 950 rounds a minute and it used 9mm rounds. Brines’ F88 was the basic SAS assault rifle and chambered 5.56 × 45 mm NATO cartridges, firing them at a speed of 1080 a minute. With a an integral 1.5x magnification optical sight inside the carry handle and a MILSTD 1913 rail to accommodate specialised optical devices, Brines could easily take down a fair amount of the British before they opened fire. However, although a shoot off was on everyone’s mind, because of the break off of Australia from the United Kingdom two years previous, Briggs stepped forward and grabbed the British leader’s hand.
“Benjamin Briggs at your service.” Briggs said, pumping the British officer’s hand up and down. The startled man snatched his hand back and patted it down.
“Charles Anthony Stark.” The man replied and the British soldiers, who Briggs saw were all Sergeants, relaxed noticeably.
“Terrible weather, aye Chip?” Briggs said, and started walking again, to catch up with Threesons and the others. A fake smile spread across Stark’s soaked face.
“Yes, foul. And please, leave it at Charles.” Stark almost spat through his teeth. Briggs saw that the Englishmen’s eyes had narrowed slightly. This man had an anger problem.
“Sorry Charles. My slip. I had a friend before the big thing almost three years ago, liked being called Chip, but his name was Charles.” Briggs finished and then they walked on in silence. Briggs thought that it was like being marched to prison. Walking alongside a gruff commander, while armed guards strode slowly behind. Even if Brines weapon was better, there was five of them and one of him. Threesons had disappeared into the sleet and Black and Khaki had set out before them.
“Ruddy nuisance, that ice tunnel being blocked like that. I feel soaked to the bone.” Briggs heard one of the English soldiers say to his friend.
“Charles.” Briggs began and the tall Englishman turned his head slightly. “What division?”
“Pardon?” Stark replied, his eyebrows knitting into a frown.
“What division are you part of?” Briggs embellished and Stark nodded.
“Oh. We six are from MI6. We are here to protect the MI6 Director. You?” Stark answered. Briggs rolled his eyes.
“I am one of the five founders of this Coalition and the COW, ah, I mean Compound of Worlds.” Briggs replied and Stark nodded.
“Ah yes. I have heard of you, know that I think of it. You are the one that named it as well, no?”
“Yeah. I named the thing. I was the chief designer for the Compound as well.” Briggs finished and shrugged his shoulders a slight bit. “Not that special.”
“Not that special!” Stark cried. “You are one of the five people finally bring all of the countries together for peace. That is quite special. You will go down in history as a hero!” Briggs smile slightly and Stark nodded. “Let me tell you that you will.”
Briggs nodded thoughtfully and then suddenly his foot punched into a hole in the ground. Icy water sloshed around his ankle and leg and he swore loudly.
“How unfortunate.” Was all Stark muttered and then started moving on. The five English MI6 operatives walked past the swearing Briggs and Brines stopped to wait for him.
When the English had disappeared from their views, Brines jogged over.
“Come on Doc. Only ten more minutes to the base. Threesons probably beat us there.” The Lieutenant said as Briggs struck up a walking pace again. “Bloody English. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them.” Briggs nodded.
“That Stark. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” Briggs continued.
They continued on in silence for a minute.
“You wanna know what isn’t fair, Brines?” Briggs asked and Brines flicked his eyes in Briggs’ direction.
“What, Doc?” The SAS trooper answered.
“I was one of the four co-founders of the Compound, yet they forced me to ride out here in a stupid row boat. The heads of Secret Services are flying in on helicopters in two days time and the representatives from the armed forces show up tomorrow. All in helicopters. The other four founders are taking it easy right now in their home countries and will arrive with their leaders.” Briggs spat out. Brines chuckled.
“Doc. You have to be here early to see that everything is in order. The way I see it, you’re the head honcho of the founders.” Brines stated wisely. Briggs nodded.
“That’s true, I would assume. But if I’m the head honcho, where’s my Apache?” Briggs ranted. Brines just patted him on the shoulder.
“Doc. You are the toughest as well. They assumed you could take it.”
“Who’s they, if you are below them?” The man behind Briggs asked. Briggs jumped noticeably, while Brines swung his AuSteyr around and flicked off the safety.
The Israeli before them raised his hands, to show he wasn’t armed. “Watch where you are pointing that, friend.” Brines lowered his gun.
“Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy, since some gun totting English bastards strolled through here about ten minutes ago, thinking they owned the place.” Brines said and the Israeli nodded.
“We saw them earlier. And about them owning the place, before Antarctica became a solely neutral area, the Ronne Ice Shelf was the United Kingdom’s territory.” The Israeli answered. “But how rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself, or my men.” Suddenly, four more dark skinned Israelis appeared, each with a Tavor TAR-21s swung over their backs. For the first time, Briggs noticed an Uzi hanging loosely from the first Israeli’s waist, attached by a cord that could be ripped off the belt for instant use. “I am Hastof Markhan. I am from the Israeli Defence Army. We will be meeting our Major that will represent us at the Compound. Behind me are Judan, Kylo, David and Edan. They are all with me. And you are?” Markhan pointed to each of his men as he said their names.
“I am Benjamin Briggs. I am a co-founder of the Coalition of Forces and the Compound of Worlds. This is the SAS Lieutenant Harry Brines. We are almost at the Compound.” Briggs replied.
Markhan nodded.
“Then let’s move. This blasted sleet isn’t going to let up anytime soon.” The Israeli leader stated and the seven of them ploughed into the deep snow, with sleet blasting their shoulders.
By Isaac McIntyre
Rain pelted the window as lightning struck in the distance. Two men sat at a hard wooden desk, the second with two guards standing to attention at his shoulders. One was dressed in a pristine white overcoat and had dark, anti-flash glasses on, while the second was dressed in a deep purple suit, complete with tie. While one pair of thousand dollar boots clicked against the lino floor, the thirty dollar sneakers of the man in white stayed silent and still.
“What did you call me here for?” The first man asked. The second man didn’t meet the first man’s eyes; instead they were flicking like a blur over the creaseless pages in front of him.
“Your name is Benjamin Alfonso Briggs?” The second man asked, ignoring the question. Briggs nodded. “Where were you in June, two months ago?”
Briggs looked down at the table and then licked his lips.
“You know full well where I was. You’d have it in your fancy folder.” Briggs snarled and put his palms on the table. “This is why you called me here? ‘Cause of that. I thought that was in my past.” The purple suited man just smiled.
“Your folder does tell of your anger outbreaks, Benjamin. But not of the events that transpired last year.” The suited man replied, calming facing Briggs’ anger. Briggs, realising that anger would get him nowhere, began to settle down.
“I will tell you anything but those weeks.” One of the guards stepped forward, but the suited man waved his hand.
“You wouldn’t want Jargon here to hurt you would you?” The suited man almost chuckled.
“You think I’ll be scared of that? I saw more things on the ice than you will in your entire life. You would have crapped yourself silly.” Briggs shot, but once again the suited man just starred at the folder.
“Language, Benjamin. Anyway, we are starting to make progress. On the ice? The events happened on the ice of Antarctica?” Briggs glanced down slightly, but the suited man caught the movement. “I suspected as much. Tsunamis don’t happened for no reason. Something had to melt and Antarctica is the prime location. Yes? Or shall we let Jargon take over?” Briggs spat on the table as the suited man said Jargon’s name. The second guard stepped forward, much fast than he should have and grabbed Briggs’ arms, pinning them in a very uncomfortable position.
Jargon stepped forward, grinning and raised his fist high. The suited man stood up and approached Briggs.
“Shall we talk?”
-1-
The Coalition of Forces
The boat was lashed with icy water and Briggs found it hard to keep his eyes open, as the salt burned his exposed eyes.
“You okay, Doc?” The man sitting behind him asked and Briggs momentarily spun around to reply to the Australian SAS Lieutenant, named Harry Davis Brines, call sign: The Grim.
“I’m okay Brines.” He roared over the raging swell. Brines patted the shoulder of Briggs’ now thoroughly soaked-through white overcoat. The soldier in front of Briggs laughed openly.
“What is so funny Samson?” Briggs asked and the hulking SAS Sergeant Major, swung around on his seat.
“You, Doc.” Jackson Hanson Samson, call sign The Hulk, replied. Most of his fellow squad mates called him Threesons. The other two members of the squad were named Gunnery Sergeant Mitch Luigi Black, call sign Shadow and Lance Corporal James Dean Khaki, call sign Mantis. Black was the squad sniper and Khaki was the technician. Brines was the squad leader and Samson was the heavy weapons expert. The last two were accompanying Briggs on one row boat, while Black and Khaki were in the second with Threesons’ weapons and rockets.
The destination: the first meeting of all the armies, navies, air forces and secret service of the world. And Briggs was one of the co-founders of the meet. The name of the meeting: The Coalition of Forces. Representatives from each of the four different combat groups, from each major country from around the world were gathering to discuss one thing. Peace.
As no one country could either host or visit another country, for fear of infiltration, assassination or other war-like acts, which could send the Coalition of Forces into one big blood bath, the chosen continent for the meeting was the freezing waters of Antarctica. Briggs and four other genius minds from around the globe had given birth to the one idea of a joint peace effort, once and for all. Although it had taken until 2024, starting in 2014, for all countries to agree, it had eventually taken flight. Four years of building, planning and decisions had gone into it at this point and by 2028 the meeting halls had been finished. Briggs had named it the Compound of Worlds or, rather funnily known as COW, and the name had stuck. There were separate sleeping quarters, all acting as embassies in their own rights and temples, mosques and churches had to be built as well, for the countries to continue worship. The COW was in itself a living, striving community, with shops, stalls and meeting places. The compound had enough food to last four months. It covered twenty square kilometres and rose ten stories high. Hence the four year building period.
Briggs frowned slightly. The compound technically wasn’t finished yet. The sixth floor was off limits, because the scaffolds and building equipment were dangerous. A recreation area was to go into that floor, in between the floor for the Americans and Irish and the floor for the Chinese, Russian and Germany.
With recreational activities on every level from three up, it didn’t really matter though. Only thing missing was a movie theatre.
“Sir!” Threesons roared over the howling winds. “Briggs!” Briggs snapped back into reality.
“What!” He yelled back, suddenly feeling the icy rain sloshing around his feet.
“Sir! The docks are dead ahead!” Threesons replied and Briggs half grinned. As well as being a small city in its own rights, COW was controlled by a super computer housed one floor underground, which could only be accessed by the main elevators if one of only five cards were inserted into the slot above the buttons. Briggs had one and the other four co-founders had the other four. The super computer had been named Bessie, because of the COW name.
“There it is, Briggs!” Khaki’s voice crackled over the radio. Khaki and Black were ahead and had, Briggs assumed, seen the lighthouse of the docks. After the docks, a series of hollowed out tunnels, reinforced with steel walls, roof and floor, led to the Ronne Ice Shelf. This shelf met the sea at the Weddell Sea cove, which was where the two boats were floating in right at this moment. A fog horn sounded in the distance and Briggs’ frown turned into a wide smile. His 20 years of work and labour was finally paying off. A shining beam slashed through the heavy rain and Briggs saw at last what Black and Khaki had seen minutes before. The COW lighthouse. Located on a floating piece of ice, reaching down to the sea bank, what was supposed to have been a temporary observatory had changed over four years into a lighthouse and radio tower. Eight men operated it every second of every day, with twenty four men housed within it. Taking it in breaks, the teams watched the seas for ships that could bring harm to the ice shelfs, therefore jeopardising the Compound of Worlds and the Coalition of Forces.
“Home sweet home.” Briggs muttered under his breath. As soon as the tenth level was completed, two and a half years ago, Briggs had asked for a room their and a lab to continue his works. The tenth floor had grown around the wide open spaces of his house. For that was what was on each floor. Fifty apartments at least, each as big as a house, with shops and restaurants on each floor, as well as clothe shops and recreational areas, like pubs, clubs and video game arcades. The most recent additions to the floors were temples, mosques and churches. These were placed according to whom the floor was made for.
“The lighthouse is signalling something.” Brines loudly muttered behind Briggs. The white coated scientist looked up and saw that, although Briggs had already believed him, Brines had been right. The lighthouse was signalling a piece of broken ice near the two small boats location.
“Threesons!” Briggs called and the hulking giant swung around.
“Doc?” The large man replied.
“There is a large piece of ice in front of us. We can’t go through the ice tunnel. We have to pull up on the Edge and take the overpass to the Compound.” Behind Briggs, Brines swore.
“I could take an hour to do that and we would be stuck in the rain for longer.” The Lieutenant called and the radio crackled to life.
“Brines!” Black’s voice barked out. Brines grabbed the radio off Briggs.
“Black. Turn to your right. We have to take the overpass way to get to the Compound. There’s a bloody great piece of ice in the way.” Brines yelled into the radio. The radio was silent for a few seconds and then:
“What the hell man! We’ll freeze to death. Khaki doesn’t have to lug this explosives crap across the ice does he?” Black asked quickly. Brines grinned, looking a the giant at the front of the boat.
“Threesons will have it.”
Briggs had his white overcoat wrapped around his shoulders tightly, watching Threesons heave his explosive ordnance over the slushy ice. Something struck Briggs.
“Brines!” He called and the Lieutenant appeared at his shoulder.
“Doc?” The young man asked. Briggs growled.
“Stop calling me that Brines.” Briggs said through gritted teeth.
“What? Doc? We call you that ‘cause you look like a dentist in your white overcoat. Anyway, what did you want, Briggs?”
“Brines. This is a peace meeting, yet you are all fully armed and Threesons has explosives on top of his firearm. You going to gate crash my party?” Briggs asked and Brines chuckled, his boots punching holes in the mushy ice.
“No way, Doc, ah, Briggs.” Brines replied, his face lit up with a smile. “We just don’t trust some of the fellas that will be with the representatives of the armed forces of each country. Safety precautions. You know?” Briggs kept his face to the front.
“Lucky I decided to make metal detectors and a weapon storage. There will be no firefights while the conference is going on. And that could take months for all I know.”
“What could take months?” An English voice punched through the chilly air and Briggs and Brines stopped in their tracks, spinning around. Before them stood six English soldiers, the front one wearing a dark red beret on an angle, the other five totting Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns. Brines gripped his F88S-A2 AuSteyr tighter. The Heckler and Koch MP5 was a German made gun, capable of pumping out 950 rounds a minute and it used 9mm rounds. Brines’ F88 was the basic SAS assault rifle and chambered 5.56 × 45 mm NATO cartridges, firing them at a speed of 1080 a minute. With a an integral 1.5x magnification optical sight inside the carry handle and a MILSTD 1913 rail to accommodate specialised optical devices, Brines could easily take down a fair amount of the British before they opened fire. However, although a shoot off was on everyone’s mind, because of the break off of Australia from the United Kingdom two years previous, Briggs stepped forward and grabbed the British leader’s hand.
“Benjamin Briggs at your service.” Briggs said, pumping the British officer’s hand up and down. The startled man snatched his hand back and patted it down.
“Charles Anthony Stark.” The man replied and the British soldiers, who Briggs saw were all Sergeants, relaxed noticeably.
“Terrible weather, aye Chip?” Briggs said, and started walking again, to catch up with Threesons and the others. A fake smile spread across Stark’s soaked face.
“Yes, foul. And please, leave it at Charles.” Stark almost spat through his teeth. Briggs saw that the Englishmen’s eyes had narrowed slightly. This man had an anger problem.
“Sorry Charles. My slip. I had a friend before the big thing almost three years ago, liked being called Chip, but his name was Charles.” Briggs finished and then they walked on in silence. Briggs thought that it was like being marched to prison. Walking alongside a gruff commander, while armed guards strode slowly behind. Even if Brines weapon was better, there was five of them and one of him. Threesons had disappeared into the sleet and Black and Khaki had set out before them.
“Ruddy nuisance, that ice tunnel being blocked like that. I feel soaked to the bone.” Briggs heard one of the English soldiers say to his friend.
“Charles.” Briggs began and the tall Englishman turned his head slightly. “What division?”
“Pardon?” Stark replied, his eyebrows knitting into a frown.
“What division are you part of?” Briggs embellished and Stark nodded.
“Oh. We six are from MI6. We are here to protect the MI6 Director. You?” Stark answered. Briggs rolled his eyes.
“I am one of the five founders of this Coalition and the COW, ah, I mean Compound of Worlds.” Briggs replied and Stark nodded.
“Ah yes. I have heard of you, know that I think of it. You are the one that named it as well, no?”
“Yeah. I named the thing. I was the chief designer for the Compound as well.” Briggs finished and shrugged his shoulders a slight bit. “Not that special.”
“Not that special!” Stark cried. “You are one of the five people finally bring all of the countries together for peace. That is quite special. You will go down in history as a hero!” Briggs smile slightly and Stark nodded. “Let me tell you that you will.”
Briggs nodded thoughtfully and then suddenly his foot punched into a hole in the ground. Icy water sloshed around his ankle and leg and he swore loudly.
“How unfortunate.” Was all Stark muttered and then started moving on. The five English MI6 operatives walked past the swearing Briggs and Brines stopped to wait for him.
When the English had disappeared from their views, Brines jogged over.
“Come on Doc. Only ten more minutes to the base. Threesons probably beat us there.” The Lieutenant said as Briggs struck up a walking pace again. “Bloody English. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them.” Briggs nodded.
“That Stark. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” Briggs continued.
They continued on in silence for a minute.
“You wanna know what isn’t fair, Brines?” Briggs asked and Brines flicked his eyes in Briggs’ direction.
“What, Doc?” The SAS trooper answered.
“I was one of the four co-founders of the Compound, yet they forced me to ride out here in a stupid row boat. The heads of Secret Services are flying in on helicopters in two days time and the representatives from the armed forces show up tomorrow. All in helicopters. The other four founders are taking it easy right now in their home countries and will arrive with their leaders.” Briggs spat out. Brines chuckled.
“Doc. You have to be here early to see that everything is in order. The way I see it, you’re the head honcho of the founders.” Brines stated wisely. Briggs nodded.
“That’s true, I would assume. But if I’m the head honcho, where’s my Apache?” Briggs ranted. Brines just patted him on the shoulder.
“Doc. You are the toughest as well. They assumed you could take it.”
“Who’s they, if you are below them?” The man behind Briggs asked. Briggs jumped noticeably, while Brines swung his AuSteyr around and flicked off the safety.
The Israeli before them raised his hands, to show he wasn’t armed. “Watch where you are pointing that, friend.” Brines lowered his gun.
“Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy, since some gun totting English bastards strolled through here about ten minutes ago, thinking they owned the place.” Brines said and the Israeli nodded.
“We saw them earlier. And about them owning the place, before Antarctica became a solely neutral area, the Ronne Ice Shelf was the United Kingdom’s territory.” The Israeli answered. “But how rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself, or my men.” Suddenly, four more dark skinned Israelis appeared, each with a Tavor TAR-21s swung over their backs. For the first time, Briggs noticed an Uzi hanging loosely from the first Israeli’s waist, attached by a cord that could be ripped off the belt for instant use. “I am Hastof Markhan. I am from the Israeli Defence Army. We will be meeting our Major that will represent us at the Compound. Behind me are Judan, Kylo, David and Edan. They are all with me. And you are?” Markhan pointed to each of his men as he said their names.
“I am Benjamin Briggs. I am a co-founder of the Coalition of Forces and the Compound of Worlds. This is the SAS Lieutenant Harry Brines. We are almost at the Compound.” Briggs replied.
Markhan nodded.
“Then let’s move. This blasted sleet isn’t going to let up anytime soon.” The Israeli leader stated and the seven of them ploughed into the deep snow, with sleet blasting their shoulders.
By Isaac McIntyre
