Sincerely, Jennifer x

Operation Shepherd Briefing Document

To whom it may concern, 

Attached are two essential pieces of evidence that will assist you in locating, apprehending and disposing of Captain James Ovid Plately. 

It is of the utmost importance that this is done as discreetly as you can manage, as to not further alarm the public during this troubling time. 

The target was last seen on board the HMS Vengeance, but unfortunately we have lost contact with the vessel and we are unable to locate it at this time. 

The public must not be aware of the involvement of Captain James Ovid Plately, or the crew of the HMS Vengeance in the “incident” and we are in the process of disposing of files or documents that may alert them to what has occurred. 

It is vital that the public does not become aware of [REDACTED] or the Order of [REDACTED], and especially important that they do not become aware of the Prime Minister’s death, and how this connects to [REDACTED] as this would create widespread unrest and potential uprisings among civilians, which would be a disaster as we proceed to the next stages of recovery. 

As soon as your mission is complete, you must immediately destroy the briefing document and all attachments, or you will face disciplinary action. 

God speed, and God save the King. 

-x-

Operation Shepherd – Evidence File 1312.

Unsent letters between Captain James Ovid Plately and Angela Plately Dated between March 10th and March 16th 2023.

-x-

March 10th 2023

Hello Mum,

I never send these letters but maybe this time, I will. Probably have to type it up when I finish my shift and get it on the next email upload, but I’m not sure if there’s any point. We talk when I come home every now and again, but we never really talk. I can’t, of course. National security and all that, but then again, there’s rarely anything of interest happening down here. 

I’m guarding the end of the world, and most days, it’s far less exciting than people imagine. I just wait, and wait, and wait, until the prime minister calls. 

He’s never called, so I’ve never launched. The button remains unpushed, and the world goes on turning. 

That’s how it’s been for fifteen years. Prime Ministers come and go, but our relationship never changes. I’m the guard dog, hoping that they’ll never ask me to bare my teeth. In between shifts, I sleep, eat, read and overthink. I don’t want to, but sitting in this kind of power gives you a lot to think about, especially when you’ve been here as long as I have. 

I get a few weeks off every couple of months, but I’m starting to think that it isn’t enough. 

Mum, I think I need to get out of here. 

I think I need to come home. 

It doesn’t normally get to me. We’re not exactly having a great time down in the subs, but we’ve got food, and stuff to do when we aren’t working, comfortable beds. It isn’t too bad. It’s never got to me like this before. I can’t explain it. 

It isn’t thinking about what I’m here to do. I made my peace with that a long time ago. It’s… well, it’s his voice. 

Not the Prime Minister. Haven’t heard from him, which is good, I suppose. No. It’s someone else. I don’t know. It’s not very often, but in the last few weeks, every now and again, I hear him. 

“Push the button James.” I thought it was one of the others on shift, messing around, but I’ve even heard it when I’m alone. In bed, in the shower, in so many places, and every time, it’s like a shiver goes right through me, like a shockwave, the same way it will one day when I push that button. 

“Push the button James.” I know what will happen if I do, so I mustn’t, but… he asks Mum. He asks me all the time. He never shows his face. He never rests his hand upon mine as it hovers over oblivion, but he asks, politely and often, with no rhyme or reason, and I sit in silence, wondering why he comes to me.

I don’t want to push the button Mum. Nothing about this has ever been good, but it’s a job, isn’t it? It’s my job, and I’ve made my peace with it. It isn’t what I want to do, but I will when the Prime Minister asks. 

Who else is asking though? Who is he, Mum? 

I should drink more water. Get more sleep. That will sort me out. I’ve been at this for long enough now that I’ll be alright. 

I feel like a sheep, just pottering about in a field, waiting for death. I know that I’ll be miles away, but death is what happens, right? 

I can’t think about that now. 

Just don’t push the button until we get struck by something. That’s all. Wait for the PM. Wait for the cruel crack of the Shepherd’s crook. Wait for the command and then push. Nobody else is in control of this. 

I AM IN CONTROL OF THIS. 

I’ll drink some more water. Make sure I’m getting enough protein in my diet. Think of the consequences, vividly and as often as possible. 

There can be no mistakes. 

There can be no mucking around. 

I’m a man, Mother. I’m a real, grown man, with medals and ranks and control over my body. 

I will not push the button. 

I must not push the button. 

… But he asks, Mum. He asks, politely, and often. 

James x