Xaviers!

At precisely 3:07 PM, the BBC cut out. Both on television, and the radio.

So did ITV, Channel 4, Sky, and all the other terrestrial broadcasters. Static filled the airwaves across the nation, before a crackling sound came through, and an angular, grinning face popped onto the screen, and a Welsh accent filled the air.


"Good afternoon, Britain.


My name is Captain Cosmos. You do not know me yet, but you will. Today is a fortunate day for all of you. Today is a day that will live on forevermore; a day where you and your so-called government can make decisions that will alter the course of history.

For too long, we have had to listen to politicians, lobbyists and spokespeople drone on and on about who we are and who we should be. The Irish Question. Devolution. The Scottish Referendum. Brexit. I, for one, am tired of so much talk and so little action. I am also a patriot. The British Isles shall remain together, joined in unity, for better and for worse, for the rest of the time they exist. We have produced some of the greatest minds the world has ever seen, and it disgusts me -- disgusts me! -- at the level of discontent and unrest present. The islands splitting up. The islands wanting to be more part of Europe than part of each other. Perhaps what you need is a common enemy. Perhaps I can oblige.

I am in possession of a device of hereto unmatched power and destructive capabilities. The governments of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, the Bailiwick of Jersey, the Bailiwick of Guernsey and the Isle of Man have 96 hours to provide ten billion pounds worth of gold or other equivalent precious metals, to be delivered to a location that will be sent to them forthwith. I am aware this is more than any one of the governments have to offer, so they shall have to work together in order to fulfill this demand.

If they do not, I shall activate the device in exactly 96 hours. The resulting shockwave will destroy the British Isles and everyone upon it.

Either join together, or die together. The choice is yours.

Good afternoon, Britain."


A loud and obnoxious burst of static concluded the message.

----- ----- ..--- ....- ..... ....- ...-- ---.. ..--- ----- ..--- ....- -.... / ----- ----- ...-- ..--- ....- ..--- ----. .---- ....- ..... ----- ..... ..... / ----. --... ---.. ----- ..... ..... ...-- ..--- ---.. ...-- -.... ---.. -.... / ----- ---.. ---.. ...-- ----. ..--- ----. ..--- ..--- .---- ----. ....- ...-- / ----- ----- ..--- ....- ..... ....- ...-- ---.. ----- ---.. ..--- ..... .---- / ..... ..--- .---- ..--- ...-- ---.. -. ----- ----- -.... ----- --... .


And then the regular programming came back on, allowing people to finish watching Jeremy Kyle.

Nailah, phone in one hand, hurriedly hobbles her way into the common room to see if anybody else caught the grand-standing villain just now.

Tosh was already there, poring over something on his tablet. He had headphones on as well.

"... why is that sound so familiar?" he muttered.

"Hey. Sharknerdo." Nailah says, then, when Tosh doesn't respond, hobbles over to the couch and yanks one of his earbuds out.

"You catch that just now?"

He flinched a little in surprise. "The 'Give me money or die' broadcast? Yeah. I'm trying to make sense of the audio at the end. It feels like something. Listen."

He unplugged and played back the end of the broadcast.

"Sounds like some kinda rhythm. You think there's a hidden message in there maybe?"

"It's definitely not random. I kinda even recognize it, but it escapes me. It isn't binary... though... it is two..." he said, slowing.

"... and I'm an idiot," he groaned, "I think it's god-damned Morse Code!"

He went to work decoding.

"Morse code? Like he's sending one of those telegraph thingies?"

"Exactly. It's so antiquated I almost missed it."

After a brief moment, he said, "Okay I've got... something..." and showed her his results.

Code: Select all

0024543820246
0032429145055
9780553283686
0883929221943
0024543808251
521238n 00607e

"Not sure about the thirteen digit strings, but that last bit is coordinates. Just have to make an educated guess where the decimal points should be."

He plugged in his best guess of 52.1238 north by 00.607 east and grinned, "Wow, England actually has a middle of nowhere."

"You got all that from static bursts? Wow... So you think that's where he's hanging out? We should go beat him up! A proper villain that's not all completely insane and murdery!"

Nailah seems way too excited about this, not to mention that exploding Great Britain is arguably worse than what Hazard put her through. It just doesn't feel that way somehow.

"It could just be where he wants the gold delivered. But, yeah, we should check it out. Just in case this isn't an elaborate prank."

"What about the rest of those numbers?"

"What numbers?" Will asked, as he walked in.

"Thirteen digit codes hidden in that pirate broadcast, and I'm still working on that."

He did a little Googling and ended up entering the numbers into a bar code database to see if that was it.

"Any results on them? Maybe they're some kind of...secret code or something."

"Huh... Futurama volume 2, TNG season 6, Hyperion by Dan Simmons, Big Bang Theory season 5, and Simpsons season 10. It's... a set of like things at least..." he said, furrowing his brow.

"Sounds like Trev's Christmas wishlist."

"Trev likes Big Bang Theory? I thought all nerds were supposed to hate that sort of thing," Will mused, writing down the names on his hand (with a pen produced from his finger of the other hand). Was he doing maths? Was he finding a pattern?


"Things...to buy....for....Trev."


No.

"Yeah... Big Bang is a no," he said disdainfully. "Anyway, maybe the numbers? 261510."

"Probably not, but more likely than Matt Groening and The Shrike beaming us up."

"Hyperion's not a "volume one", though. I mean, I guess it's the first part of a thingy, but it doesn't really follow along with the rest...

I've never read it. Have you? Or seen any of this stuff?"

"I've seen or read all of them but the Big Bang episodes. But, yeah, you have a point. They are all nerdy things, but I can't see any other single commonality besides being part of a larger body of work. One's a book, two aren't science fiction, and two are animated."

"The book is the one that really stands out, right? Everything else is TV shows. Hyperion sounds like some ancient Greek thing."

"Maybe if there isn't anything similar about the formats, maybe there's something similar about the content? Do they all, like, go to France or something? Or, since this guy is a pro-British Isles unification nutjob, do they, like, deal with Oliver Cromwell or something?"

"They all go to space. Or deal with space. Maybe he has a space ship? That's what the book seems to be about, ships with Hawk-Drives or something?" she rambles as she scrolls through Wikipedia pages. "No wait, Hawking. What's a Hawking?"

"A Hawking Drive is just the author's version of a warp drive. But the Simpsons only touches on space on Halloween and Big Bang is just named after a space thing. That's probably not it."

"Wait... I... think Stephen Hawking has had cameos in all those shows... but what could that have to do with anything?"

"Where was that location, again?"

"Some field in east England, nearest I could tell," he answered, reloading the map.

"Let's see...are we sure we have the right coordinates? Which ones did you enter?"

"What the morse said, but I did guess at the... decimal... points..." he answered, slowing down as the problem clicked into place.

He googled "52 12 38n 0 06 07e" and said "Bingo. The Cambridge Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics."

"Theoretical physics sounds right up the alley of someone calling themselves Captain Cosmos, too. We should check it out."

"Excellent! Let's go!" Nailah adds despite her cast.

Tosh looked down at the cast then up at Nailah with a questioning look. "Shouldn't you be... uh... taking it easy?"

"It's feeling much better." she says, although she doesn't really have a frame of reference.

"If you're sure. Just... please don't make me play ambulance driver again. Because damn it, Jim; I'm an engineer, not a doctor."

"Are ambulance drivers even technically doctors? I don't think they are..."

"Some of them maybe? I dunno. I'll be careful!"

"Don't overanalyze the bad joke," he said with a whining sigh.

"Let's just get to it."