Ironstone.

Professor Albert Ironstone sat at his desk, the equations in front of him were more complex than any in the long history of physics. But to the sixty year old man, it was like reading a novel, everything was perfect, everything fit into it's place and everything had it's place. He had been working on this theory since he was twenty-five years old, nothing distracted from the goal, no one yelled him down. Mainly because there were only two or three others in the world that had the slightest chance of understanding the mathematics that was required. Ironstone had developed a completely new form of equation to work out the details that were needed to explain and manufacture something so new that to most it was like a fairytale. A power so strong that even the smallest reaction was enough to wipe out hundreds of square kilometres of land and everything on it. Sometimes late at night, Ironstone lay back in bed and wondered if he had done the right thing in proving his theory. Should the wrong hands got a hold of the technology to make a nuclear reaction happen, well, nothing would ever be the same again. All he wanted to do was find a way of producing power for all the world without the constant pollution and destruction caused by the belching coal fired plants and the horrible diesel engines that choked every major city in the world.

The King was asking him to develop a bomb, a bomb to defeat the rebel Loyalists and return the Empire to the peaceful place it was until the young man calling himself Arthur Pendragon came out of the woodwork and claimed to be the rightful King and that Harold was a murderer who killed King Uther, his brother. Ironstone chuckled at the absurdity of the idea, he had met Uther many times, and Harold was always at his side and the King included his brother in all thing's. To say that the King of England and the Empire would kill his own brother was beyond ridiculous. It was well known that the Persians had assassinated Uther and his young son, Harold was left with no other option but to take the throne. If there was something he could do to assist his King in defeating these usurpers, well, it was his duty as an Englishman and a loyal subject. The final decision to make the weapon was set in stone when the Loyalists had kidnapped and killed his best friend and collaborator Professor Edward Savage and his beautiful wife.

There were not two more dedicated and committed scientists than his friend and his wife, t brought a tear to his eye when he thought about the horrible deaths they must have suffered at the enemies hands. If his theories were what it took to get revenge, then so be it, he would do it, if not gladly, he would make the weapon the King requested. The sound of the hinges on his door creaking roused him from his deep thoughts. The General in charge of Kenwood House stood there looking at him.

"Good Afternoon, General." He said quietly.

"Professor, how are you this fine afternoon?"

"I am fine think you, what can I do for you?" He asked.

"I have just spoken to the King, he is most pleased with the progress of the weapon, but asks if there is any way to speed up the development process?"

"Sadly, that would be dangerous beyond compare." He answered. "The point we are at now requires very gentle and slow movement, should the material come into contact, the results would be devastating for you and I and everything within five miles." Ironstone explained. "The case is ready and the trigger has been tested and placed in the device. But if we don't place the Uranium in the perfect place, it could well detonate when we try and move the case." The blood drained from the General's face, it was bad enough that the bomb could devastate the entire east of London and the surrounds, but he sure as hell didn't want to be around when the thing went off.

"I do understand, Professor." Shillington-Smythe responded. "The King asked me to ask you if there was a chance of bringing forward the completion date."

"General, please explain to the King that there is absolutely no short cuts to the end, if we don't do everything perfectly, the device could fail to detonate, and in a worst case scenario detonate before we get it to the target point. That would be bad for us all."

"Yes, yes, I understand, Professor." He snapped and stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Ironstone just looked at the door and shrugged, it was far too dangerous to speed up and he would not put his people at risk for some spoilt generals political aspirations.

Ironstone was completely unaware of the instability of the King he served so diligently, nor the number of people that had been killed and disappeared by the secret police that crept around the shadows, listening, recording and waiting. He was in the blissful world of science and experimentation, a place he loved more than anything in the world. He was King in this world, and no one would rush him into making a poor choice, or worse a deadly choice. He sighed as he thought how his friend had been the defensive wall that kept these simpletons from his door, protecting his process and his need for solitude. But, Savage was gone and there would be no more long discussions in front of the hearth as they argued the laws of physics, the best moves in chess and laughed at how the young students would fawn over them as though they were Gods. Yes, he was gone, but he would never forget the contributions he made to Ironstone's work, always ready to take him to task over his latest theory, or berate him for ignoring the work already done that would cut several months, and in some cases, years, from his work.

"I will never forget, my friend." He whispered as he returned to the unfinished work in front of him.

Unknown to both the General and Professor Ironstone, was the unseen eyes and ears in place all around. The dirty tricks division of the Loyalist military had more than a little success in the area of covert tricks. Such as listening devices, cameras that easily avoided detection because of their minute size. The operatives listening in from a very well disguised hide about a mile from the Professor's office. As soon as the General left the office, a message was sent straight off to the 55th HQ. A messenger then immediately decoded and sent a copy to the Colonel and another to Battalion HQ and the General's office. Things were heating up now, so the Colonel would want to know everything that was happening in the Target.

"Papa Bear, Goldilocks 1/1. Formation holding for the order." Cornwall announced. She had been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and now had the responsibility for the entire amoured column. She was nervous, but this was the big show, there were Special Operations Operators loaded up in the Armoured Troop Carriers, three squadrons of Leviathan MBT's not to mention three companies of support Infantry and two squadrons of Reapers on call for air to ground support. The Artillery crews had been left out due to the constant danger close nature of the operation. She looked around at the assembled heavy metal, smiling at the enormous honour she was bestowed in leading them.

"Goldilocks, 1/1. The order is given, move out. I say again, move out!" General Rolph announced. Cornwall spun her finger in the air and pointed forward.

"Goldilocks 1/1 to all units. Tally Ho, let's move it out." She tried desperately to keep the excitement out of her voice, a little unsuccessfully. She dropped into the turrent and closed the hatch. "Alright Gentlemen, let's get this done and get back with all our limbs in place."

There was little noise to be heard as the formation headed out, the tracks had all been heavily greased and the EMPG's fully spun up. It wasn't a silent move, but given the situation, they couldn't ask for more. The MBT's slowed and hauled of to the side of the road allowing the Troop Carriers to take the lead and dispense their deadly cargo. They were a wheeled vehicle that used the lack of heavy weapons to allow a large cargo area that held fifteen troopers or a large amount of cargo. Now they were sneaking their cargo as close to their target as they could. The massive tyres were as close to silent as was humanly possible, slowing to as low a speed as possible once the target area was under a kilometre away. Finally, the Carrier slowed to a stop and the rear door slowly lowered a rested on the long grass. Troopers spewed from the rear compartments of the eight Carriers, shifting off into the darkness. They had rehearsed and discussed and refined the operation until it was second nature. Even though the information from the plants and the listening devices had caused the operation to be brought forward, they were more than ready.

Shillington-Smythe led her team straight down the middle, the theory being that if all the guard points were hit at the same time, there would be a reduced chance of the alarm being raised prematurely.

"Bravo 1 to all Units. We all know what to do, let's get this done. Confirm in position." What followed was eight mike clicks. Only she would speak, and only when it was absolutely necessary. "All Bravos commence in 3…2…1…execute." she whispered. No sounds were heard as she and her squad melted into the dark, approaching the front gates from a slightly oblique angle. She could see that there were three guards alert outside the guard house. The unknown was how many were awake inside the guard house. She signaled her second over, squatted down to discuss the situation.

"We have three in the open but the Guardhouse is an unknown." She whispered. "What's your read?"

"Same, Boss." Sergeant Clarence "Clarrie" Knightman replied. "We can split and enter the guardhouse as soon as the front three are bagged."

"I Don't like it, but, you're right, I'll take Vince, Johnny and Tom. You take the others and wait for the kick off." She ordered before heading off to her take off point.

The sky was clear, stars were bright, the moon was low in the sky due to the time of year, but it really made commando operations very difficult. But there was no backing out because of the weather. She looked over and clicked her fingers lightly. Corporal Vince Landsborough looked over watching as Shillington-Smythe used hand signals to order him to take the left, Johnny take the right and she would take the Officer. Each took their aim, the time was seconds away, the pressure on three triggers increased. The slow squeeze finally reaching the release point, three hisses followed as the suppressed rifles fired. Looking up quickly, Shillington-Smythe was in time to see the last man hit the ground as her remaining squad entered the Guardhouse. She heard four suppressed shots, obviously clearing all threats.

All squads were on point and had eliminated the perimetre guards with ease it had to be said. Shillington-Smythe Gave the order to proceed deeper into the grounds. There were a large number of well lit areas, but there were equally as many dark corners the Commandos could take advantage of. The roaming sentries were the next target,and as it turned out, they were too concerned about bitching about their bad luck to be lumbered with night duty, than to worry about possible incursions. This was far from the elite soldiers she was expecting, shaking her head in derision, she indicated with her hand to Vince to delete the sentries. Seconds later there were four bodies no decorating the trees. Moving slowly across the lawn in the darkened areas to the wall of the main building. There were eight squads now leaning against the outer walls waiting for the order to infiltrate the house proper.

Shillington-Smythe looked down at her watch, it was fifteen seconds before the infiltration was scheduled. She smiled as this was going better than she could have hoped for, but being the professional she was, she wouldn't allow herself to consider anything until the last enemy was subdued and every one of her troops was accounted for.

Five…Four…Three…Two…One…

"Skydart, I say again, Skydart. Move, move, move!" Colonel Shillington-Smythe announced firmly.

All squads acted at the same instant, sixteen heavily muffled shots rang out and as many guards dropped and were no more. The squads entered the house from eight different points, easily moving through the halls without alerting anyone. The hour was far too late for the office johnnies to be at their desks, and too early for the cooks to up and cooking. She and her squad had replaced the automatic weapons for silenced pistols. This allowed a greater degree of maneuverability in the tighter confines of the internal corridors of the house. So far there hadn't been any wandering guards or other personnel to contend with. Making their way to the front entrance, each of the infiltration teams would meet there and then spread out over the second floor and neutralise the remaining enemy combatants. Shillington-Smythe started to get a few butterflies, her father would be upstairs with the remaining officer contingent. But that was something in the future, now it was time to reassess and deploy.

"Bravo two, secure the armoury and clear any bad guys that pose a threat. Bravo three, left wing, Bravo four support three. Five you have one's back door." The commandos all nodded their understanding, "Six you have the back entrance, Seven secure the non-com barracks. Eight split between six and seven." She explained. "Alright let's get this done." The units all separated silently heading to their assigned positions. There was no sound and all the possible threats had been neutralised with a minimum of fuss. Now it was time to secure the remainder of the manor allowing the main force to roll in and fully secure the area.

Private john Darcy was feeling nervy and was struggling to get comfortable in the racks that the officer so happily requisitioned for them. In reality there was nothing comfortable about them at all. "This sucks." He said to no one in particular.

"Why don't you go and make a start on cleaning your rifle. You know that Gillette will have your nuts if it isn't spick and span in the morning." His best friend Charlie Jones suggested. Little did they know it would lead to a mess they were simply not prepared for. Nodding in agreement, knowing if he doesn't pass his weapons final checks he would be shipped off to some sluggy infantry battalion that was on the real front lines. The last they had heard, the front was ten miles from them, so there wasn't the threat of a backs to the wall fire fight. They knew it was coming, but it was in the future, there was no point worrying about things not here yet.

"Ok, I will do some polishing and hopefully get through Gillette in the morning." He said almost resignedly. He walked to the Barracks door, opening it just as the point man for Bravo Seven checked the hall away from the door. Darcy looked and had to take a breath, there was someone scoping the manor all in black. He could see that Gillette's door was closed and locked, but this was too odd to be a drill. Even if it was a drill, he had to react, so reached over and hit the emergency alarm button. The screeching of the klaxon screamed out around the manor, waking every soul without exception. The men in the racks behind Darcy jumped out of their racks screaming about what was going on and why the hell was there an alarm. Darcy started screaming that there were armed intruders in the hall.

"Don't be fuckin' stupid, Darce." Jones snapped.

"Well you stick you stupid head out there and prove me wrong." He snapped as he reached for the loaded sentry weapon kept for the next shift. Swinging out into the hall he fired off three quick bursts before pulling back. The stitch of return fire that punctured the door frame certainly got the attention of the rest of the platoon very quickly. He quickly returned fire keeping the Commando unit pinned outside the hall leading to the platoon barrack and armoury. Jones grabbed the pistol and fired the clip dry while Darcy reloaded. Unfortunately, Jones was slow pulling back behind cover and wore two rounds in his chest killing him instantly.

Shillington-Smythe silently made her way down the hall to the Officers quarters, she had a fair idea that her father would be in the suite behind the double doors. She would hit that suite first and once the head of the snake was cut off the rest of the snake would die. She was no more than ten feet from doors when the klaxon began to scream, making her jump as the sudden sound tore apart the silence that was so important to a commando's trade. She looked back and saw that her people were spreading out next to each of the doors and waited for the inhabitants to come out. As she expected her father was screaming before he opened the door threatening all sorts of horrors to the moron that would dare disturb his sleep. The door was flung open and the General exited in his dressing gown waving a pistol around like a maniac. She saw her chance and hit her father hard in the chest winding him badly, then flipping him over and standing on his hand with the weapon.

"Hello Father, how have you been?" She asked pulling her balaclava over her head, exposing her smiling face.

"You….." He didn't get the rest out as she smashed his face with the but of her pistol, knocking out three of his front teeth and smacking him into unconsciousness.

"Sorry Daddy." She said disdainfully. Before rolling him over and cuffing his hands behind him, this was the day, or night, she had been waiting for. She looked at him laying there in his silk pajamas and dressing gown and had to stop herself from kicking his head in. She looked back and saw that all her men and women were intact and had their targets trussed on the floor.