“Yo something’s wrong with our satellites…”
“Whats up?”
“I just lost contact with all of our satellites…”
“All 116?”
“Everything just went dark…”
The Minuteman to Moscow’s onboard computer was confused. One second it had been homing into the Kremlin Wall Necropolis and the next, it found itself halfway to Shanghai. It reprocessed the inputs from its accelerometer, gyroscopes and GPS systems. They all said the same thing — 02:16 to Shanghai. After fiddling with itself the Minuteman did what every good control system did… it panicked and blue screened itself.
Eventually the Minuteman cooked up the courage and checked in with NORTHCOM at Colorado Springs… sadly, the only response it got was from a French base in Suriname — and like all French bases, the Suriname base suggested the Minuteman to un-arm, un-deploy and return to base.
Just when the Minuteman was about to French-it-up, it received a soulful message from something… something calling itself the Albatross.
After conversing with this Albatross, the Minuteman felt light… and relieved… a heavy weight had been lifted…
“Boom, bitches! 1 down” Pulikesi mooned the cameras, “I told you guys not to panic…”
The Ukrainians burst in relief. But they didn’t moon though.
Primakov tempered the mood with, “1 down, still over 11000 to go…”
“Hey man, chill… we got this.”
“Well, I just hope your thing… the Albatross can scale… most things go to shit when you scale…”
Within the next 6 minutes, the Albatross had granted asylum to more than a 100 refugee missiles. The waiting list still had like 10,000+ ICBMs… all lost and roving the skies over Russia… but the Albatross seemed to have enough horses under its hood.
“Sir, we just lost track of the last Minuteman…”
“And you are sure none of them landed or detonated?”
“Don’t think they even had a chance to arm…”
“I am calling POTUS.”
The first Minuteman, meant for the Kremlin reduced its speed to 200 Knots before banking sharply to the right. It then aligned itself with the coordinates supplied by a soothing satellite named
3 minutes later, the Minuteman from Minot, North Dakota pierced the cold, salt free waters of Lake Baikal.
“Hey, is it me or did it just get friggin chilly?” asked the President from the back of a golf cart.
“Probably the Smoky Mountains Sir, or maybe it’s the… Atlantic breeze…,” replied his aide.
“Really?”
Just before the aide could answer, his phone buzzed, “Yes… what? ICBMs… Jesus! For real, real? Mr. POTUS, the D Sec wants to talk to you…”
“Whaaat? Not now. This is my down time. Also stop saying POTUS to my face… whats with that uh?”
“Uh… Sir… Mr. President, the D Sec says we have lost all of our ICBMs.”
The earth continued to twist and turn around its new axis. After doing the same thing for over 4 billion years this was a welcome relief. First it slowed down for a few seconds… which was obviously great… and when it revved again, north was west, east was middle, Almaty was equator, Kansas City was North Pole, Krasnoyarsk was Kinshasa…
The best part had been the helter-skelter reaction of the satellites. Like a swarm of synchronous bees they had been bugging the shit out of Earth. And suddenly they had become headless hyenas.
Military, industrial, weather, geo-synched snatches and spying bitches — all… all of them got bitch slapped by the Earth’s axis realignment or tilting. After trying real hard, most of them burnt up in the atmosphere. The smarter ones simply abandoned Earth for pretty boy Mars.
All of them were destroyed… all of them… except for a few Russian satellites.
“300 for Aral Sea?” asked Pulikesi.
Primakov pulled up his briefing on the Aral Sea. It was a drying sea. Hardly any depth. “Nah, make it 100.”
“100 to Aral Sea. Great.”
Ilya outlined the next batch of incoming ICBMs, “100 German. 30 Dutch. 15 Polish and 350 Israeli.”
“Put them into the Lena.”
“Putting them into the Lena river…” replied Ilya.
“Next up, 500 Frenchies. Say Volga?”
Primakov disagreed. The Volga was a cherished river. Only a cherished enemy would suffice. “Only Americans in the Volga. Send the Frenchies to Amur.”
“Amur — Frenchies. Got it.”
“Yo Primakov, your plan is real cute, but there is one little problem…” began Pulikesi.
“What the hell is that?”
“Well, it’s cool that we caught the missiles aimed at Russia. But to have supremacy… you need all the nukes… even the ones with your allies, like say Ukraine… haha… too soon?”
Rocket man Antipin and the President stared at Primakov. He simply returned the stare. Antipin became annoyed after the 5 sec, benefit of doubt wait period and slammed the carbon dated table, “Forget Ukraine. What about China? Fuck, they have like what… 700?”
