Future Furies (Endless Fire Book 1)

by R E Kearney

  “Oh but, we’re giving you more than just our confidence and support Robert. I know for a fact that the Russians have already contacted SPEA’s Embassy in Moscow, but that our people there have been told to stall and delay them. So, you need to hurry down to Washington National and hustle your new best friend onto our waiting airplane for your trip to Venus. In the current situation, we are giving you the only thing we can give you. So don’t waste it. We’re giving you a head start.”

  Chapter 11.

  Up, Up and Away

  After he waves a smiling goodbye to the pistol-packing, trash-tossing protestors and the two men still squatting in their car at the end of the Embassy compound street, Robert’s car turns south and heads into the evacuated streets of Georgetown. The thirty minute car ride from the Embassy to SPEA’s facilities at Washington National airport does not allow Robert much time to plan his next moves. He barely has enough time to absorb and sort through what Freeman told him.

  While his car rolls past the Pentagon, he wonders what the minds of the US military are plotting at that moment. It is so absolutely absurd Robert thinks, as he scans the packed Pentagon parking lot. Working inside that building are thousands of men and women endowed with billions of dollars of the most advanced military equipment. Yet with the weaponization of code, they are impotent and nearly powerless in today’s cyber conflicts. Military methods and machines have changed while too many military minds have not. Too many of them remain locked in a nineteenth century mind-set in which land, power and people are physically controllable.

  Seeing the Pentagon floods him with ghastly memories. He remembers fighting the Nordic War in the old style. It was called hybrid warfare then. Russia employed a combination of stealth invasion, local proxy forces, its own military forces supported by robotic forces and international propaganda to destabilize Poland, Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania. The Nordic War was difficult and deadly warfare, but not too different from the centuries of warfare before, except far more destructive. Directing robots, drones and Chariots of Fire, there was still terrain Robert fought to take or hold. People that he defended or attacked on that land. Physical targets. Centers of gravity. Bodies. Blood. Death. Lots and lots of death.

  Through the never-blinking, cold, electronic eyes of the robots and drones he maneuvered from a safe bunker one thousand miles away, Robert witnessed hundreds of laser cremations – fighters and innocents fried alive. Human sacrifices to the callously deadly, and mercilessly inhuman Chariots of Fire. Now, years later, visions of Russian and Coalition soldiers’ charred bodies still haunt him. Nightmares continue to destroy his dreams. He recurrently awakes wet with sweat and screaming. Time heals wounds, but time takes too much time, Robert concedes.

  But war fighting is changing, Robert reflects. The old way has gone away. War is not that war anymore. Destroying a nation no longer requires an Army. Now war is all about cyberstates and their cybercitizens and cybercombat. Less than ten countries have major militaries, but every single country, large or small, can possess cyber arms. Today, the enemy exists everywhere all of the time, and nowhere at the same time, he reasons. It’s the time of code war.

  It is the age of individual empowerment, instant communication and intertwined-interconnection through digital cyberspace. Landless, philosophical cyberstates have suicidal zealots in Paris and Los Angeles and Manila and every other major city, who are armed and ready to kill for what they believe, whenever they are triggered. The enemy capable of totally incapacitating the multi-billion dollar US military may be a single, talented, teenaged hacker working out of a shack in the slums of Lagos. Or a group of hackers operating covertly on the black Internet that few know about and is rarely seen.

  Robert ponders the question: How do you win or at least end these new cyberwars? How does an army tank outmaneuver and outflank a philosophy spreading as fast as human thought around the cyber connected world? How does an air force bomb an idea? Can the Navy sink a religion and its fanatical believers? No. Of course not.

  As a cyberwarrior, Robert is aware that conventional military tactics and brute force is not the answer. When the military realizes it is under cyberattack, it is too late. Cyberespionage is faster than a thought. By the time the military completes its six step response of reconnaissance, initial exploitation, persistence, tool installation, lateral moment and collection and exfiltration of data, it has lost. The cyberattacker has already destroyed and disappeared.

  As he informs his many clients, the only way to stop a virus or hack attack is at the source. Just think of the cyber world as your own body, he often tells them. If you prevent the cold virus from entering your body, you won’t get sick. But once the cold virus is inside, you will be ill, and you will be ill for a while. Prevent the insertion. Stop it before it starts. Close the entry point. It only requires one person to insert a deadly cyber virus capable of shutting down a nation and it only requires one capable cyberwarrior to stop them once they find them.

  That, Robert admits, is today’s painful reality which is rendering the military and especially huge, expensive armies obsolete. The US Army is only useful for nation decimation and population occupation. It’s all about Economics. No nation can afford conventional war. It’s not economical. Too much loss for too little gain. The Nordic War bankrupted America, its Coalition members and the Baltic nations they fought over.

  The war’s only winners were the Kroack Brothers who reaped billions in blood-oil profits. US troops are still serving the Kroack Brothers. Abaddon established military outposts in every Kroack Brothers market scattering underequipped and underfunded US Army and Air Force troops around the world. Robert reasons Abaddon stationed the majority of the US military in far flung spots to keep them out of the US and unable to end his rule, as much as protect Kroack Brothers’ property.

  So, what do you do when you have no friendly fighters available and Russia is threatening to drown your exhausted European forces in the Baltic Sea? You activate your cyberwarriors. But, when your own military’s cyberwarriors are dead, on the run, or mutinying against their President then you conscript whoever remains. And now, Robert comprehends why he is going where he is going. He may not know much, but he does know somebody who knows somebody who may be able to save the US and Russia from themselves.

  Robert laughs at the irony of the US’ situation. He is their final and only option. The US is being forced to place its fate in the hands of a part-time, on-call, recalcitrant and reluctant Canadian cyberwarrior, who defiantly does not want the job. Robert scratches the back of his head wondering if there exists any way that he can get out of this and just go home.

  As his car continues through Crystal City, he notices armed men and women in SS uniforms standing at each corner. They vigilantly scrutinize him as he passes. More surveillance. More eyes and spies. He feels very hot and uncomfortable beneath their glaring stares. He envisions himself as one of those squirming ants he fried with his magnifying glass when he was young.

  Then, unexpectedly, his car stops. Robert watches a parade of injured Nordic War veterans protesting their lack of medical care block the street. They all appear to be homeless and helpless. Having drained the US Treasury to fund his crusades, Abaddon has nothing left to support medical care for the thousands of unnecessary casualties the US suffered. Many of the medical and rehabilitation advances developed during the Iraq and Afghanistan wars are being disregarded in the US now because of their expense. Canada and other Coalition countries are known to treat their wounded veterans much better than the US. Seeking help, thousands of injured American veterans have moved to Canada straining the Canadian health system.

  Seeing the disabled veterans reminds Robert of when he watched in horror and disgust as the US military was repeatedly crushed by Russia’s advanced technology. Abaddon had trapped the US military in the past when he replaced its forward thinking leaders with his fundamentalist Christian clones employing obsolete tactics. His military leaders never escaped the
ir delusions of providential invincibility. They launched one crusade after another that failed disastrously in fights against Russia’s evolving, futuristic weapons. Throwing men and women at killing machines, robots and drones never proved to be a smart tactic, he reasons as he continues to scrutinize the protestors.

  Robert remembers when Pion and Komfort arrived, and Abaddon’s hand-picked US generals departed. With those two women leading, the Coalition began to turn the tide. As robot controlling laptop soldiers, they and the other Cyber Defense Group members changed the course of the conflict. Combining Pion’s cyber-attacks with Komfort’s cyber-sabotage devastated the Russian’s cyber command system allowing other Cyber Defense Group programmers to access, immobilize and annihilate the Russian’s weapons. In less than thirty days, the twenty-four members of the Cyber Defense Group accomplished what thousands of human Coalition soldiers had not been able to achieve in three years. Without personally firing a single bullet, they forced Russia to call for a cease fire.

  Robert returns his attention to the action ahead of him. Pouring into the street from both sides, SS goons gruffly prod and kick the protesting, injured war veterans. Hobbling and staggering, injured veterans who can walk, struggle out of the street. SS seize and drag and haul the remaining immobile and obdurate veterans to the sidewalk and dump them. One veteran loudly protests. Robert shields his eyes as the SS surround the Vet and beat him until he no longer squawks.

  Traffic slowly rolls forward as the last wounded veteran limps out of the street. Robert considers the fact that you never see any crippled robots protesting their care. Human war should be obsolete, he silently declares.

  As his car finally parks itself just inside the entrance to SPEA’s hangar, he breathes a sigh of relief. He removes his oxygen mask, but remains in the car for a minute searching the hangar for SS goons. When he finds none, he determines it is safe to exit. With his Canadian issued PCD, as his only allowed possession, he climbs out of the car. Immediately, the car closes its door, backs out of the hangar and disappears. Momentarily, he is on his own.

  Within seconds, SPEA’s security robot is face to face with him scanning his face and retinas, “Welcome Mister Goodfellow. Please follow me to the acceptance and departure lounge.”

  “No! I am not going to do it!” Evoil bellows at the SPEA male and female flight crew as Robert strides into the lounge.

  “Look! I am wearing your tight, hot, felt pajamas. I gave you my pistol, my crosses and all of my communicators. But, I am not inserting that suppository.” Evoil stabs his finger at a two inch by one inch cylinder, the male member of the flight crew is attempting to force into his hand.

  Obviously out of patience, the crewman rams the cylinder into Evoil’s hand. “The bigger the asshole, the bigger is the required bio-tracker blocker. I am certain that it will fit. After all, you’ve spent most of your life with your fat head wedged up there.”

  Instantly, Evoil and the crewman stand nose to nose, fists clenched and prepared to battle.

  Although he savors seeing blustering Evoil smacked to the ground, Robert slides his arm and then his body between the two men to separate them. Both of them slowly step backward. They continue glaring at each other.

  Evoil bristles, “You cannot talk to me this way. I am a Deacon of Society Security and a retired United States Marine Corps Colonel. I demand respect.”

  “All that nonsense ended when you walked through our door and officially stepped onto the State of SPEA sovereign property,” sneers the crewman. “Here you’re just a package that we have to deliver. You’re just a liability. A loud liability. If you don’t insert that blocker then you can’t go because you are radiating too many bio-electronic trackers and signatures. We cannot allow you to be electronically recognized as an SS member and then tracked to SPEA. It violates our pledges of neutrality. The Russians could consider it an act of war.”

  The crewman points toward the cylinder Evoil holds. “Now shove that up your ass, so we can get going. Or would you rather have me shove it inside of you with my boot?”

  For several seconds, Evoil stands silently and angrily staring at the crewman while he considers his options. Finally he realizes that he has no options.

  “Ok. Ok. Give me a minute. I’ll be right back,” Evoil starts walking toward a door marked locker room.

  “Oh no. No way. We can’t trust you. You do it right here where we can see and guarantee that you do it properly.” The crewman points toward his female crew member. “Or Nu Ky Su will do it for you.”

  Robert decides it is best not stay and witness the insertion. He wanders into the hangar to inspect the airplane. As with every other SPEA machine he has seen, the airplane is unique, cutting-edge technology. The craft’s wings and body are fashioned and woven to more resemble a giant bird than an airplane. Rubbing his palm against the exterior, he considers it more resembling slippery silk than polished metal. Special solar panels comprise the top of the carbon fiber wings. He counts three engines, with the largest engine at the end of the fuselage beneath the tail and one smaller engine built into each wing. Robert saw this type of wing engines on Canada’s vertical-take-off-and-landing aircraft. Placards attached to engines state, ‘Clean Hydrogen Power’.

  “Quite a beauty, isn’t it?” the crewman asks from behind Robert. “Nu and I designed her so that once we reach our cruising altitude of thirty thousand feet, we can almost fly forever. She’s not as fast as some jets, but we will fly her the entire twenty-seven hour trip between here and Venus without refueling. No stops at unfriendly airports required with this bird. And then we just gently set her down in her nest when we arrive.”

  The crewman opens the, nearly invisible, exterior door-hatch and motions for Robert to climb aboard. “And just wait till you see what’s inside.”

  “You have to be kidding me. Is this what we’re flying into the middle of the Pacific Ocean?” Evoil snarls as he waddles toward the airplane. From his uncomfortable, wide legged walk and the pain in his face, Robert deduces that his bio-tracker blocker is in place. He silently rejoices that all of his bio-tracking devices were removed in Canada.

  The crewman did not mislead Robert about the interior of his aircraft. It is beautiful and plush. In the main cabin, there are six seats, which unfold into single beds to allow sleeping for long flights such as this. A table projects from the cabin wall at the end of each seat. Thick sound-proofing, padding on the cabin walls creates interior silence. He and Evoil buckle themselves into their wide, deep seats.

  Energizing his PCD, Robert accesses his Intel report to learn additional information about where he is headed.

  The Intel report returns to paraphrasing SPEA’s state of the state report, “The Economy of the state of the Society Preserving Endangered Agriculture is founded upon employing agricultural innovation to preserve, propagate, cultivate, produce and market foods threatened with extinction due to climate change, such as increasingly scarce coffee, tea, and cacao. In addition, SPEA scientists, technicians, engineers, mathematicians, botanists, biologists, chemists, agrobiologists, agronomists, and researchers in the fields of robotics and computers, as well as others are investigating and creating new plants, agricultural techniques and equipment capable of ensuring food security for the peoples of the world.

  “Success in science based agricultural pursuits and other science based research earned SPEA revenues or a Gross Domestic Product for the State of SPEA exceeding the equivalent of more than half of the world’s nations. Revenues are received as cyber credits denominated in all major national currencies. The state of SPEA being a profit generating entity does not levy or collect taxes. SPEA citizens earn salaries based upon education, skills and performance and also enjoy a profit sharing program with profits not reduced by taxes. The citizens of SPEA possess the highest per capita income and net worth of any independent State in the world.

  “A visual appeared of Gutefrau addressing SPEA citizens during one of their recent monthl
y recognition events, “I am extremely excited to announce another exceptionally prosperous quarter for SPEA. Revenue increased by three percent and costs decreased by two percent thanks to perpetual research creating new and innovative products and techniques. SPEA flourishes on new ideas and must always be the innovator, the imaginer, the pusher of the envelope.

  “SPEA’s increasing success in benefiting by exploiting climate change proves that the future belongs to those who solve tomorrow’s problems today, not to those who deny the problems exist. Climate change and science deniers who refused to look to the future are now denied a role in our present. Science deniers are paying the highest prices for their folly of ignoring reality and science; hunger, thirst, constant conflict, and failure. While we are reaping a rich reward by taking advantage of climate change and creatively converting its challenges into achievement. Our future is bright fellow citizens of SPEA, very bright, as we continue to seize problems as opportunities to provide profitable scientific solutions.”

  Deciding that he has heard enough, Robert reclines his seat into a bed as the words of Mahatma Gandhi flood his fatigued brain. “Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s need, but not every man’s greed. A nation that destroys its soils, destroys itself.”

  “Aha”, he mumbles. Within minutes, he is soundly sleeping.

  The smell of fresh coffee opens Robert’s eyes several hours later. Before him stands Nu with a tray full of food and drink containers. “Like some coffee or tea or cocoa? How about some food? Tastes good and good for you.”

  “Love some,” Robert responds enthusiastically.

  “None of SPEA’s devil drinks for me,” Evoil loudly growls, before she has a chance to ask him. “Do we get real food or is this all that you have to offer?”

  An angry scowl crosses Nu’s face. “This is it big boy. You can starve for all I care. This is all we have. These bars are high in protein and low in calories. Something you can definitely use.”