With These Eyes

by Horst Steiner

  As it passed across cities and country sides, the vaporized rock and metal from the center of the detonation had cooled and solidified on the objects that had survived the inferno.

  On the following ring, now 1,500 km from ground-zero, the heat was still sufficient to incinerate anything flammable and char persons beyond recognition. The pressure wave leveled every manmade structure. One of the larger screens on the multi-media wall of the command center showed an oil field in a middle eastern nation blow away from the distant photon detonation. Moments later, the heat ignited the deposits below in a fiery mushroom cloud of oil and flames. A birds-eye view revealed the oil producing nations of that part of the world covered in burning rain of oil and thick, dark smoke. Gene's act would be in the sentiment of many ancient myths that had kept populations in fear since their inception.

  Gene was particularly satisfied reading the Mid-East projections for zero survival of population and infrastructure. To be completely successful with his plan, he would have to brush aside the only other remaining corporate entity, Tefis whose sole product was the sale of energy. He knew Tefis would have destroyed any quantum-energy production facilities. Although Gene was in control of the world's media, he did not underestimate the power of the Tefis Corporation and their own covert army.

  Devastation of the bulk of their oil reserves and the absolute death of what once was the cradle of man's civilization, would be sufficient to execute the final and most hostile takeover of his firm. Gene's plan was to convert the world's power plants to Quantum Energy and continue to sell electricity to the fearful survivors of humanity. Simulated devastation of most of Africa and the Mediterranean played on other displays. A list of immediate casualties projected a total of 300 Million deaths and 2.5 Billion each of the two years that followed from disease and starvation. Gene's smile returned to his face as he anticipated his reign of the world. He leaned back in his chair and proclaimed, "finally, we’ll have peace."

  Since the test projectile didn't carry a warhead that would have destroyed it, the speeding clay missile continued its descent through the atmosphere. Its temperature near absolute zero at the time of launch had protected it from the heat that resulted from the friction with the air. After re-entry, it had heated up significantly. Once the projectile passed the target area, its hull became a white-hot glowing comet. The missile's fuselage was disintegrating as it crossed the Mediterranean Sea and headed for the little seaside village where Isabelle's spectacular fly-by had caught attention earlier that night. Almost everyone from old to young had remained in the church out of fear. Without realizing how close to the truth he was in his assumptions, their priest had told them their sinful behavior had brought about the same wrath that destroyed Sodom and Gomorra in biblical times.

  The town's market-square laid deserted only a few streets away from the crowded church. The brilliant glow of the test missile's remnant lit up a scene in its colorful stained-glass windows. The delicate artwork depicted the coming of the white horsemen in the mythological story of the Christian apocalypse. The entire congregation fell to their knees and began to pray. Little more than a piece the size of a tennis ball remained of the projectile after it had mostly burned up on its path. Still traveling much faster than any bullet ever could, the white-hot chunk of ceramics rammed into the village's central square. Despite the leftover projectile's small size, its enormous velocity provided it with enough kinetic energy to destroy the entire market place. Carnival decorations and pieces of a bandstand shot off in all directions. A smoldering crater the size of a family home marked the site where earlier that night the town had been singing and dancing. The priest lead into a sermon of how praying was the only thing that saved the town. The congregation eagerly followed his requests to fill the collection plates.

  Back in his lair, Gene was eager to execute his attack. The bristly hair on his neck rose to attention as the dark leader uttered his orders.

  "Prepare the Pythagoras-Missile for launch."

  His staff of henchmen snapped into action. A few of the Troopers' taps on their consoles and the crane in the missile bay was loading the weapon into its position on the launch track. The robotic arms with the supply lines connected to the bottom of the fuselage.

  "Initiating orb. Launch in t minus ten minutes."

  The simulations on the video wall had given way to images of the live weapon and its supporting components. Radar showed what little remained of Tasha's cloud-seeding squadron.

  "There are two left. Sir, we won't be able to hold the countdown for them. The mountain's already heated above norm from the earlier interruption."

  Gene didn't care to be reminded that Tasha had caused him to interrupt his attack. With a dissatisfied grunt, he settled back in his chair. "We launch on schedule."

  Inside the missile bay, the orb generator had begun its task. Ionization of gas in the reaction chamber was setting in. A glowing sphere the size of a pinhead formed in the center. The quantum orb would grow over the course of the ten minute countdown to reach the size of a basketball, the intensity needed for Gene's photon detonation.

  54 TASHA GETS TOUGH

  Tasha's struggle with strong winds and ground fire had not been without effect. Despite having lost all her drones but one, some of her seeds were coming to fruition in the form of a cloud layer in the area over the lair. There was not enough condensation in the air for a lightning storm and time was running out both to stop the missile and for Tasha to avoid being shot down. Even if she managed a few more passes without another missile hit, the two planes’ spray nozzles simply could not provide enough coverage. She needed a quick way to put more clouds in the sky. To survive, Tasha was flying just above the reach of the henchmen's shoulder-mount weapons. Her efforts of cloud-seeding at that altitude brought little advancement for her cause. The weather was forming far below. She was contemplating her dwindling options, when a missile detonated in the air just under her tail. Gene's Troopers had disabled their weapons’ safeties so that the missiles would explode at the end of their burn, rather than fall to the ground. The detonation pushed the plane's rear up, sending Tasha into a vertical dive, with 25,000 feet between her and the ground that was approaching at high speed. Tasha pulled the yoke towards herself in an attempt to level off the plane, to no avail. The force of the missile's nearby explosion had torn the elevator off her tail. Without elevator control, there was no possible way to turn the immensely large craft upright again. Tasha tried to compensate with ailerons and flaps, which are the parts of the main wings that control lift and roll, but the plane continued to race towards the jungle. The last drone adjusted its course to match Tasha's and together, what was left of her once mighty squadron, sped towards its demise.

  "Time to get tough," Tasha said to herself.

  The brave warrior in the cockpit wasn't thinking about what might happen to her over the course of the next few minutes. Saving her family was the sole reason for this fight. Tasha was not used to losing. Determined to win this most important battle of her life, she reached down beside her seat for the pilot's oxygen tank. Within seconds, she had clipped the green steel container onto her belt and placed the mask over her nose and mouth. Tasha turned the valve and took a deep breath. She saw only one way out. She reached behind the seat for her parachute and pulled it towards herself. Tasha released the seat restraints, bracing herself not to fall through the windshield below her as the plane continued its vertical dive. Tasha was thinking back to her training for Gene's elite forces where she had learned to escape from a failing plane. In a somewhat awkward-looking position between seat and control panel, she managed to get the pack secured to herself.

  Tasha released the cabin doors’ safety and extended the rear hatch through which she had entered the aircraft. The door had opened only slightly when in an explosive decompression, the force of the air inside tore the entire staircase off its support. The cockpit door flew open as the plane's interior decompressed. Flight manuals, a first-aid kit and severa
l smaller items were sucked out the back.

  With oxygen and parachute strapped to her person, Tasha climbed up past her seat and to the cockpit door that was still straight above her. A gaping hole in the aft section towered high above her at the other end of the plane. She entered the main cabin. Tasha could see the purple chemicals slush around in the rows of opaque white plastic-tanks above her. Tasha reached down next to her feet and ripped a second oxygen tank from its mounts on the inverted cabin wall. Tasha dropped the heavy steel cylinder into the cockpit where it shattered the windshield. Air was now rushing through the craft like in a wind tunnel.

  The emergency kit provided her with a fire ax. Tasha took a deep breath. The rubbery smell of the mask lingered in her nose as the oxygen traveled to her blood. With the strength of a horse, the lone warrior climbed to the first row of tanks and found her footing on the edge of one of the plastic containers. A swing of the ax and cloud-seeding chemicals poured from the tank. The stream of air rushing through the cabin pulled the purple flood out the aft in a powerful jet. Tasha axed the adjacent tank and climbed to the next row where she repeated the process. By the time she had reached the last row in the aft section, an immense funnel cloud was forming above her. The strong winds that had dissipated her patterns before where now quickly distributing the thick mass of cloud seeds.

  The chemical from the last tank had no effect. Tasha had left the effective altitude for cloud formation. It was time to go. She pulled her rip cord. The strong air current dragged her parachute through the opening in the fuselage above her. As the silk deployed clear of the aircraft, it yanked Tasha out of the cabin. She watched the plane and the nearby drone race away from her towards the quickly approaching jungle. The two airliners carried enough jet fuel to start an inferno of tremendous proportions. Tasha was still too close to steer clear, when in complete synchronicity, both of the enormous planes smashed into the ground. Each caused a massive explosion. The pressure wave flung the young woman back up like a plastic toy-soldier. Stress and heat tore holes into the parachute’s fabric, causing her to plummet towards the cliff by the trickling waterfall, away from the inferno. In an instant, Tasha reached for the red metal ring just below her chest. She screamed at the top of her lungs as the pull of her hand released what had slowed her descent. Free-falling towards the jagged rock face of the cliff, her hand found the yellow rip-cord that deployed her back-up chute. As it filled with air, the lifesaving length of silk tugged on her harness abruptly.

  Tasha slowed her fall enough to steer clear the cliff and make for the newly formed lake at its feet.

  55 ISABELLE ENTERS GENE’S BATTLE ARENA

  Isabelle was gaining consciousness. The cold of the metal launch tube had chilled her weakened body to the bone. Frost had formed on some parts of her dive-suit. The blunt headache from her impact somewhat masked the pain from her dislocated ankle. Her surroundings were dark, except for the light at the end of the tunnel that originated in the missile bay. Isabelle was looking across the silhouette of her grotesquely bent ankle directly at the tip of the enormous ballistic weapon. It was resting on its supports just outside the launch tube. A blindingly-bright glow from the right side of the bay reminded Isabelle of something. The picture at Fuji's retreat had the same glow shining from the open door behind her mother. It could only be the light of a quantum orb. She knew once the sphere had reached its full power, it would only be stable for a minute before falling apart into regular air. Gene must have been ready to fire his weapon any moment. The whole of her mission had become do or die for Isabelle.

  The injured lightbearer tried to stand but went right back down under the pain from her ankle. Her foot was bent to the side in a right angle. Sitting on her behind, the fearless journalist explored her ankle with both hands. Her foot had snapped right out of its socket. She could feel the cup-like indentation by the heel of her foot which normally connected to the fibula. Isabelle was somewhat surprised that she had suffered such a severe injury. Just like the wave had saved her from getting crushed by the launch door, Isabelle had gotten used to Nature's protection on her quest. Her years of chanting and a life close to Nature had put Isabelle in the rhythm of the universe so she would tread safely. The silhouette of her foot sticking out to the side came as a painful reminder of her mortality. Could it be her brief thoughts of avenging her parents made the protective forces retreat? Isabelle had to be careful, particularly in Gene's own lair.

  Despite the fact that she had been unconscious for almost ten minutes, the swelling was minimal. The cold of the launch tube's wall had constricted the blood vessels in her extremities. This would make it possible to pop the foot back into place. With both hands, she grabbed her foot by its heal. Isabelle yelled out in pain as, with all her strength, she snapped the separated joint back together. She felt the relief of having repaired her injury and rose with the determination of a warrior.

  "Orb ready for insertion."

  The Trooper's voice pounded from the missile bay's loudspeakers through the pipe. The luminous ball of energy dropped out of the generator into an open door in the weapon's fuselage. Isabelle caught a glimpse of the brilliant object just before it disappeared into the missile. She ran towards the opening as fast as she could. The voice of the Trooper underlined the urgency for action.

  "Energizing containment field."

  The door to the warhead was closing. Isabelle was still too far to reach the missile. The lone lightwarrior searched herself for a weapon. After she had dropped her dive gear, she had little left on her person. Isabelle reached into the dive-suit's key pocket and pulled out her mother's beads. She leapt forward towards the launch tube's opening and flung the string of citrine and labradorite into the missile's closing door. A bright blue flash was the sign that the delicate electromagnetic containment field had been disrupted. The orb squeezed through the narrowing gap in the fuselage like a balloon and shot across the launch bay.

  Isabelle's hands caught the ground below the missile's track. She tucked and rolled, landing without the risk of popping her foot back out of its inflamed socket. The blinding light of the orb caught her vision as it flew past her head, merely inches away. What a strange sensation. Isabelle closed her eyes to protect them from the phenomenon's blinding light, yet she felt no heat radiating from it. Then a sting, like one would expect from a sunburn, flooded across her face. The brightness faded. Isabelle opened her eyes to see the orb smash into the observation window in the missile bay's wall. Within a moment's time, the soccer-ball size orb had cut a hole the size of a coin into the thick pane of glass. In an almost cartoonish fashion, the orb squeezed through the tiny opening only to return to its shape in the hallway outside. Isabelle could see it rush along a thick set of cables on the opposing wall down an incline.

  A deafening evacuation alarm echoed throughout the underground facility.

  56 HENCHMEN GO, GENE STAYS

  Pandemonium, rather than triumph defined the lair's control room. Underlined by the barking of the evacuation alert, the oversize screens were filled with images of the aborted missile and the renegade orb shooting down the hallway towards the facility's active hydroelectric plant. An agitated Trooper at the console turned his head back towards a fumingly angry Gene.

  "Sir, if the orb hits the generating plant, an electric arc could trigger a photon explosion. We're also facing risk of a flash flame across the entire facility, should the orb's incendiary properties ignite the graphite powder in the capacitor or any other part of the mine."

  Henchmen all around were scrambling for the exit. Thick, blue veins were bulging on Gene's temples, the rest of his head was red with furious anger. He shouted back at the Trooper.

  "I'm not evacuating. We stay and reload the warhead."

  The Trooper showed little reaction and just stared at Gene who jumped from his seat and rushed towards the console. The determined industrialist brushed his underling aside as he bullied his way to the controls. The disgruntled warrior saw no reason to stay by G
ene's side and followed his brothers-in-arms to the exit. Gene muted the evacuation alarm and accessed the controls for the hydroelectric plant. A rectangle at the bottom of the schematic of pipes and turbine generators glowed in red.

  Emergency Shut-Off

  Gene's sweaty palm smudged the screen as he rubbed across the bright-red panel. Large valves at the head of the four enormous feed-pipes closed. The flood of rushing water had stopped. The turbine room at the lower level of the lair was filled with the whining sound of the blades spinning down. The lake was no longer providing the lair with electricity. Gene's eyes quickly moved to the display for the mountain's enormous graphite capacitor that had been storing the energy produced by the power plant. It confirmed a charge of 75%. Although the launch of the test missile had depleted about half its energy, much had been recharged in the time since its lift-off. There was more than enough energy at hand for the launch of the live weapon.

  As energy tends to revert to its simplest form - heat, elsewhere on the lair's operations panel, the capacitor's temperature was nearing critical numbers. Gene had to act quickly before the temperature would rise high enough to ignite the finely ground graphite. Since the interior of the entire mountain was heating up, it would be very likely that all of it would combust at once in a massive flash. It was time for Gene to prepare another quantum orb for insertion into his malicious weapon, so countdown and launch could resume. A message flashed across the orb generator's display.