The 7‑Kilotonne Solution
The following takes place following: Stop Worrying About Waldo and Learn to Love the Bomb
Two weeks later...
The Waldhouse briefing room is overflowing — cameras, elbows, and murmuring tension pressed into a space far too small. Press secretary Ermintrude Maine-Anjou clutches the podium like a life raft as the barrage continues.
Ermintrude: “As I said, the President’s tax incentive plan—”
Reporter: “What about the army that has been spotted assembling outside the new Waldclaw fortress?”
Another reporter: “Will the President now authorise any military action to defend Waldron?”
Ermintrude forces a brittle smile.
Ermintrude: “We are monitoring the situation closely, but we do not believe the outpost poses an immediate threat. Now, regarding the tax initiative—”
More shouting.
Cameras flash.
Master Devlin stands against the wall, arms folded.
Ermintrude inhales, about to speak when the side door bangs open. The room ripples with surprise as President Travers strides in wearing his garish pinstripe suit and aviators.
Travers: “Hello, people! Yes, it’s me, President Travers, National Treasure and Peace Maker... Thank you, Ermie, I’ll take it from here...”
Ermintrude anxiously steps aside as Travers climbs up to the podium, taps the microphone, and points into the crowd.
Travers: “Let’s see… Arthur. Go ahead. What’s on your mind?”
Arthur Penfold: “Arthur Penfold, The Wallywood Times. Mr. President, it’s been two weeks since Warlord Waldo’s forces seized control of Waldhaven. Critics have called your decision to pursue 'non-interventionism' a dereliction of duty. Do you regret not taking immediate military action?”
Travers: “Not at all. Regrets are for losers. I made a calculated decision based on our values of peace, diplomacy, and not wanting to poke a madman with a pointy stick. And, well, the results speak for themselves. Do you see any war around here? Of course not, because Travers is the peace-time president. Sometimes the best action is inaction. Next question. Ah, Kyle! How are you?”
Brian: “Fine, thank you Mr President… Uh, Brian Cavendish, The Waldopolis Chronicle…. Mr. President, Warlord Waldo’s forces are reportedly committing atrocities. There are credible reports of forced labour camps, livestock being weaponised, and civilians being oppressed. How can you justify your silence in the face of these claims?”
Travers: “Let’s not jump to conclusions based on rumours, Kyle. There’s a lot of fake news around these days. Especially now with the computers and everything. Rest assured we are monitoring the situation, and if we see any violations of human rights, I will draft a strongly worded letter myself… After all, no one cares about civil liberties more than Travers… But until I see concrete evidence, we’re not going to escalate this situation. We’re playing the long game here. Next… Yes?”
Owen Little: “Owen Little, The Waldonian. Mr. President, some would say the ‘long game’ looks an awful lot like appeasement, even cowardice. Are you afraid of Warlord Waldo?”
Travers: “Afraid? Me?? Travers? You are speaking out of turn, Mr Little! Travers ain’t afraid of nobody! Nobody! The fact of the matter is, I’ve faced far worse threats than Wally. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, you snotty little punk… Where the hell were you when I was leading the fight against the vampires? Huh?”
Owen Little: “I uh… Well I wasn’t…”
Travers: “Who are you with again?”
Owen Little: “The Waldonian.”
Travers: “Geez Louise. That explains a lot. You are the worst... You guys should change that name. You’re a disgrace and you don’t represent the Waldonian people...”
Owen Little: “Mr President, is there any scenario in which you’d take military action...”
Travers: “The vampires and their lackeys tried to destroy me just for speaking out against injustice, and your paper was covering for them, yet you have the nerve to sit there and judge me? I have neither the time nor the inclination to justify myself to you. You’d be vampire chow if it weren’t for me! Get the hell outta here. You are the worst. You and your whole newspaper. You’re lucky I’ve got a lot on my plate or I’d sue your ass...”
The room erupts in murmurs. A journalist in the back raises her hand. "Mary Austin, WTV News: Mr. President, there’s breaking news on social media! Reports are flooding in that Warlord Waldo’s forces have attacked Waldron. How do you respond?”
Travers: “Waldron’s fine. What did I tell you about fake news? You gotta get off the internet… Believe me.”
Mary Austin: “Multiple sources are confirming it, and there are videos—“
The room explodes as every journalist starts checking their phones and shouting questions.
Travers: “Alright, settle down… That’s enough. You are shouting out of turn…”
Master Devlin, lurking at the edge of the stage, steps forward, his face tight with suppressed fury. He whispers something inaudible to Travers, who appears momentarily rattled.
Travers: “Well, it looks like I have to leave you all now and see what all this hullabaloo is about. But don’t worry folks, whatever it is, Travers has got you covered…”
Master Devlin and Ermintrude hurry Travers off the stage.
****
In the War Room, the air is thick with tension. The double doors fly open with a bang as President Travers storms in, his large goblin ears twitching furiously. He’s clutching a stack of papers, which he slams down onto the table. Master Devlin, trailing behind, looks like he’s barely holding back a volcanic eruption.
Travers: “What in Ed’s name is going on here? Waldron’s been invaded! Invaded! How could you let this happen? You tryna make a fool of Travers on national TV??”
The room goes silent. Advisors exchange glances, unsure of how to respond.
Master Devlin: “Are you serious? You’re blaming us? You ignored every single piece of advice we gave you!”
Travers: “You’re supposed to have my back!”
Master Devlin (snarling): “I had your back. Right up until you decided to bend over for Waldo and let him make you his bitch!”
The others are shocked to see the Master speak to the President like that.
Travers: “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! You are speaking out of turn, Master Devlin! Now I made a strategic decision! I chose diplomacy over war!”
Master Devlin: “You chose inaction and allowed Waldo’s forces to grow. Waldo doesn’t understand peace — he only understands chaos.”
General Baxton: “With respect, Mr. President, we warned you that diplomacy wouldn’t work.”
Travers: “Don’t lecture me, General! You’re the military expert. You should’ve seen this coming and prepared a counter-strategy!”
General Holt: “We did prepare strategies, Mr. President. You vetoed all of them.”
General Baxton: “It’s true, sir. We’ve been monitoring troop movements for over a week. We provided you with multiple scenarios, all pointing to this eventuality.”
Travers: “And not one of you had the guts to try to convince me otherwise? I’m an open minded guy! What the hell am I paying you people for?”
The Master slams his fist on the table, leaving a dent.
Master Devlin: “We did! For the past three weeks we’ve tried to get you to see the error in your judgment, but you wanted to sit back and ‘wait it out’!”
Travers: “Well, forgive me for not wanting to start a war! Is that such a crime?”
General Holt: “With all due respect, Mr. President, your orders were explicit.”
Travers: “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen… I thought I was doing the right thing. But alright, fine, fine. Message received. Lesson learned. No point in playing the blame game. We’re here now. Let’s fix this. So what’s the plan?”
Master Devlin: “Maybe we should send Waldo a fruit basket and ask him to kindly return Waldron.”
Travers: “Your sarcasm is out of turn and not appreciated, Master Devlin. We’re here to figure out what to do next. General Baxton, options. Now.”
General Baxton: “Sir, our best course of action is a coordinated infantry strike to reclaim Waldron. It’ll take significant resources, full mobilisation of our ground forces, and there will be casualties, but it’s our only chance to stop Waldo from advancing further.”
Travers: “Casualties? What are we talking here?”
General Baxton: “The Waldclaw fighters are largely undisciplined — no cohesion, no command structure worth mentioning. In a straight engagement, our troops would outmatch them in training, equipment, and morale. However, their numbers are considerable, and they have an abundance of automatic weapons and explosives. They even have vehicles now, including a Mi-24D gunship stationed at their fortress.”
Travers: “A Hind-D?? General, what are they doing with a Russian gunship??”
General Baxton: “We’re not sure. It’s possible they are backed by the Russians, though it’s more likely they bought it on the black market. Regardless, it poses a considerable threat. We should mobilise the air force to take it out before we send the troops in.”
Travers: “I’m still waiting to hear what kind of casualties we’re looking at, General?”
General Baxton: “Best‑case scenario? We’re looking at a few dozen casualties on our side, Mr President.”
Travers: “Dozens dead?? That’s your best-case scenario? You are far too casual about that, sir. What’s the worst-case scenario then?”
General Baxton: “Worst‑case… if their numbers swell, if they get lucky, or if the fighting drags out into the forests and the hills… We could be looking at several hundred. Either way, sir, we’d win eventually. But it won’t be bloodless. And we may have to consider bringing in the draft. Our army at present is modest at best…”
Travers: “No way, pal! Forget it! I’m not going to be the president who snatches young men off the street and sends them to the meat grinder… There has to be another way.”
General Holt: “It’s too late, Mr. President. If we had moved earlier…”
Travers: “Well, too bad! I’m not going to start a huge war over Waldron... Frankly, I don’t see why this is my problem anyway. The Mayor of Waldron seems like a perfectly capable and savvy woman. She’s pretty tough. Let her handle it.”
Master Devlin: “God damn it, Travers. Have you learned nothing? You are the leader of all of Waldonia — not just Widdlington! You have as much responsibility for those in Waldron and Waldhaven as you do for people here in the city. By choosing not to act, you show weakness. You’re willing to let some nut job like Widdle Frunkut start a coup and annex towns one by one. What’s next? Butterbur? Windspeak? Yokelstedt? Before long, he’ll have surrounded Widdlington. But sure, let him crack on… Or will you only care when Waldclaw are marching through Waverly Hills? How much of your precious country are you willing to lose before you grow a spine?”
WIA Director Slade: “Also, Mr. President, we’ve just received intelligence that Warlord Waldo has taken Mayor Eleanor Grayson as his bride.”
General Holt: “We need decisive action, sir…”
Travers: “For crying out loud... FINE! You want action? I’ll give you action… One that doesn’t involve sending hundreds of our men to the slaughter…”
General Holt: “Sir?”
Travers: “I’m addressing the nation tonight. We’re gonna give him an ultimatum. Either he scrams within 72 hours or I drop a nuke on his ass… How’s that for action?”
Master Devlin: “Good Lord, Travers. Have you lost your mind? That isn’t action… that’s genocide.”
Travers: “Don’t be preposterous, Master Devlin… you are speaking out of turn. It’s not genocide. It’s only a couple of towns!”
Master Devlin: “Towns with hundreds of people in them!”
Travers: “Their sacrifice will be remembered. Besides, they can rebuild the populations… we can lend them Sarah Platt…”
Everyone stares at the President in horror.
Travers: “…Alright, maybe we can still try to save the towns. The bulk of their forces are in the fortress, right?”
General Holt: “Yes, sir.”
Travers: “Then that’s our target. A 7‑kiloton nuke should do the trick, right? That way we take them out while minimising damage to the towns… right?”
Slade: “Theoretically, yes. A 7‑kiloton airburst detonation above the fortress would be sufficient to destroy it while sparing the neighbouring towns…”
Master Devlin: “Even if that worked, the fallout and ecological damage would be catastrophic!”
Travers: “Are you forgetting that we spent all that money on those new‑fangled ‘clean nukes’? The ones that don’t produce fallout…Well now’s our chance to use them!”
Master Devlin: “Those are untested and theoretical, and this is madness.”
Travers: “Oh ye of little faith, Master Devlin…”
General Holt: “I’d have to agree with Master Devlin, Mr. President. We shouldn’t be detonating nuclear weapons on our own soil—experimental or otherwise.”
Travers: “Desperate times call for desperate measures, General. You said it yourself. This invasion ends here. Otherwise, what’s next? Yokelstedt? The Tower of Walgoth? No. I won’t allow it. Prepare the nuke. General, tell the boys in R&D I want a prototype on my desk in the Ogle Office in one hour, and I want a functioning one within 48 hours. That’s all, people. Let’s get to work.”
Travers jumps out of his chair and heads for the stairs. Everyone else stares at one another in horror.
General Holt: “Ed help us…”
The Waldoverse continues in The Ultimatum