Immortal Guardian: Hoast Saga Book 2 (Host Saga)

by Michael Farlow

  “Truly amazing, Harry. I’ve seen enough. Let’s get to the chair so I can stop asking questions and understand a few things better.”

  Several hours later, Van emerged from the Moon-base learning chair looking exhausted.

  “My head hurts,” he said with a lingering grimace. “Before I do another thing, I want to lie down for a few hours and rest. Then perhaps I can talk with you sensibly. By the way, did I also get some neural stimulation, as you like to call it?”

  “Yes you did, Commander. That will happen every time you are in a learning chair. As you likely know now, you have quarters on Level 2 of this facility where you can rest.”

  “I know, Harry. Give me a call in a few hours.”

  That same day in Maracaibo, Venezuela, Elias Boller, CEO of EOS Chemicals, received a surprise and secure call from a person he thought dead or missing.

  “Elias, I will be arriving in Maracaibo in two weeks. Have the ranch house prepared and meet me there for some important discussions.”

  “Yes, sir. We heard what happened at the Aegean island and feared you were dead. It is good to hear your voice. The ranch will be ready as you wish. Do you need transportation from the port?”

  “No. That has all been arranged. I will see you in two weeks. Expect two other attendees, including Dieter. Dieter knows the details. Say nothing about my arrival to anyone.” The line went dead.

  Elias Boller had mixed emotions about this new revelation. If his boss had been killed as had been reported, then based on his ownership of shares, EOS would be his. But that possibility had just vanished. He started preparations for opening the ranch and getting it ready for its longtime owner, then called Dieter Hellman, chief of EOS security.

  CHAPTER 4

  The next morning, Van woke from his sleep in his Moon-base quarters rested and with no headache.

  So, what have I learned? he thought. The Host used this facility to do repairs to their ships and to offer crew and passengers the opportunity to visit and work at the site instead of remaining in the confinement of their passenger ships, cargo ships, and warships. They also mined water and metals from asteroids and surreptitiously imported food from Earth. Clever people.

  Maybe that accounts for many of the old UFO sightings and why there haven’t been any recently.

  Obviously, they left and moved on, likely to Mars, if I interpreted the records correctly. And they left a message telling the new base commander, which is me, not to follow until sufficient technology existed on Earth to create Moon-range space flight or until or unless situations demanded it. Whatever that might mean. And they left this corvette, so I can get as far as Mars. People with a plan of some sort. Something to work on, but now to other business.

  “Harry, my time in the chair explained a lot, but some small things didn’t seem to be covered. Does the corvette have a name?”

  “Yes, Commander, it is called the Aurora.”

  “Nice name. How about the shuttles?”

  “The Host did not name shuttles. These two were designated CS1 and CS2, CS being short for ‘combat shuttle,’ Commander.”

  “Good. At least we don’t have to go through the naming game again. Can the shuttles be housed aboard the Aurora and flown from there?”

  “Yes, Commander. There is additional room for smaller craft such as mining shuttles and even a few fighter craft if they were available.”

  “Yes, I recall the hangar configuration from the chair. Too bad we don’t have any fighters to play with.”

  “We can build them, Commander, but at this point there doesn’t seem to be a need. CS1 and 2 are quite maneuverable and have substantial armament for their size.”

  “True enough. When we leave here to return to Site R, there are a few new things I would like to take with us.”

  “Tell me what they are and I will have them stored in the Enterprise, Commander.”

  Thinking of the less capable suits that he and Harry had outfitted Brice’s team with earlier, Van wanted to give them better protection if he could. Better safe than sorry, he thought.

  “First, I would like to take at least a thirty or more of the armored Mk-1 fighting suits on Level 3. Their heavier armor and powered exoskeletons may come in handy, to say nothing of their speed and stealth capabilities. Besides, I want to see the expression on Brice Johnson’s face when he sees them!”

  Then, thinking of two of his most important shuttles, he thought, Better improve at least two of the shuttles if I can. My sense is that less dependence on fuel is an important improvement. “In addition, I would like to take a couple of the ZPE generators back to refit the Enterprise and the Truman. Can that be done?”

  “Yes, Commander. May I suggest that we refit all four shuttles?”

  “Good suggestion, but I think not. We will retrofit the Enterprise and the Truman but leave the B1 and B2 as they are. Those are the craft we use the most, and if one goes down, I would prefer that the ZPE technology not be there.”

  “Yes, Commander. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of now, Harry. But I’m sure we’ll find other needs in the future. As soon as those things are loaded, let’s get back home.”

  For two weeks after returning from the Moon, Van had been watching and learning from Harry’s conversion of the Enterprise and the Truman but realized there was not much he could do to help. So while Harry continued the work on the final changes to the shuttles, Van watched as the world became consumed with talk of fusion engines and their potential. As he watched, he began to think it a good time to visit his friend Al Craig and arranged to have lunch with him at the Barrel Room in Rancho Bernardo.

  When Van entered the Barrel Room, he found Al already seated at a corner booth.

  “Hi, stranger,” Al said as he stood to greet his old friend and shake his hand.

  “Sorry I haven’t been available very much, Al, but the retirement stuff seems to suck up all my time.”

  Both men took a seat.

  “Retirement my ass,” Al said as he drew his napkin to his lap. “You’re always cooking up something new. By the way, how is Barbara?”

  “She’s doing well in Virginia. I don’t get to visit often, but we talk with each other more often than before. Things seem to be on the mend.”

  “I don’t know why you bother, considering your past.”

  “We all have to have some spice in our lives, don’t we?” Van said with a crooked smile.

  “Yes, I guess so, but you seem to seek it by the bucketful when you do. What else is going on?”

  “Speaking of bucketsful, it’s time we order and the waiter is here. I’m having the bison meatloaf. How about you?”

  Al was still looking at the menu when he said, “Too much food for me. I’ll have the chicken Caesar salad.”

  They both handed their menus to the waiter, who departed to place their order.

  Van resumed. “I’ve been watching some of the development activities for some of these fusion engines as they unfold, and I had a few thoughts that you might be interested in hearing in these early stages. For example, I know that you’ve done some work on high-temperature materials for some of the recent military fighters. An engineer friend of mine presented me with some ideas and formulas that you might want to look at for near-term products. I imagine fusion engines get pretty hot, and the surrounding airframe will need something better than we have now to keep it from melting. In addition, the same engineer has some ideas about energy shielding to keep space particles from hitting and penetrating hull material and to prevent overheating on reentry. Both will likely be important when we start snooping around space more. I’ll forward you the designs and specifications from the engineer…. and perhaps a few more ideas.”

  “Have you forgotten that we started out as just a low-observable company?”

  “No I haven’t, and that will continue to be an important field of R&D. But Stellar has grown, as you well know. If we can get involved even tangentially with medical scanners and
nanites, then these two capabilities don’t seem too out of line.”

  “I guess you’re right. And I have been looking more into high-temperature materials. The energy shield thing will be a whole new ball of wax, but it sounds interesting. We’ll need more budget for the R&D, however.”

  Just then the waiter retuned with their food and placed both orders on the table.

  Van held his comment until the waiter departed. “Not to worry, Al. I think Harry and I can get you what you need. Just let us know so we can make the arrangements.”

  “What’s the time frame you had in mind?”

  “That’s for you to decide, but consider how fast things are moving now toward the first engine flight as a guide post.”

  “In other words, yesterday, right?”

  “Something like that. Now pass the salt and tell me what you and that beautiful wife of yours have been doing.”

  The French-flagged passenger-cargo ship SS Alani in her white splendor arrived in Maracaibo on schedule, two weeks after her departure from France and after picking up a lone passenger in Cuba. Normally she sailed the cargo route in the Marquesas, but she had been in for refit in Le Havre and was returning to the Pacific. She had only the one passenger for this stop, and he left the ship as soon as customs cleared it.

  The man was short with light red hair, dark brown eyes, a trim body, and a slightly larger-than-normal head. He also had a slight limp. But nobody got a chance to get a good look because as soon as he stepped off the gangway, he immediately stepped into a black SUV, which sped off without delay.

  Rancho Rendon had once been a great cattle ranch of over 7,000 acres situated adjacent to Lake Maracaibo. Now, thanks to the expropriation of this and forty-six other grand estates by socialist President Hugo Chavez, the rancho was now only 250 acres (101 hectares) on the lake. All the rest had gone to peasants as gifts of the state. But it still served its purpose as the remote getaway of an introverted billionaire.

  The paved ranch road led to a nearly hundred-year-old two-story ranch house of light brown stucco and a red-tile roof. Nearby stood a coffee-processing shed and a large stable for the horses that roamed the whole property. The house was surrounded by green grass and high, healthy ceiba trees. A large tile patio surrounded an inviting pool in the back of the house.

  Guests had arrived the previous day and were gathered in the main salon, which was rich with the heavy furniture and artwork from the grand days of these old ranchos. They were Elias Boller, CEO of EOS Chemicals; José Silva, CEO of Brazaero; and Dieter Hellman, chief of security of EOS chemicals. José had introduced himself the previous evening upon arriving, and all three were having drinks and chatting amiably while awaiting the master of the rancho.

  Everyone stood when they heard the SUV drive up to the curved entrance. The short redheaded man stepped out and went directly into the house and then to the main salon.

  “Good afternoon, gentleman. Thank you for coming with such short notice. As they say, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

  The three men stared for a moment, not exactly believing what they were seeing. But the proof was standing right there, alive and apparently well.

  Not one for small talk, the redheaded man motioned for everyone to be seated and, after accepting a cool drink from Elias Boller, continued. “You will know me now as Frederico Rendon, as the ownership of this rancho suggests. Peter Meier no longer exists.”

  Before saying more, he considered this group and his new plans. Portions of his empire had either been destroyed or stolen by his enemy, Van Childs. His determination to discover Childs’s secrets was now redoubled, as was his desire for revenge. But reestablishing his organization and renewing a revenue stream was taking short-term precedence.

  “We have suffered some significant losses in the past year, but we are by no means out of business. Let me be sure that you understand why we are meeting like this in person. If we learned anything over the last year, it is that there are too many people and organizations dedicated to eavesdropping on nearly everything and everybody. Therefore, electronic communications between us will be held to a minimum. We will also limit our correspondence to the simplest ways possible, including face-to-face when necessary, and when not, by strict code using a one-time pad encryption system. Dieter will brief you on the latter method after we are done. Do not violate this demand.

  “Now, you seem to know each other, so I will not make introductions. However, not with us today due to business reasons are Mr. Ruben Valesco, CEO of Pacific Technologies out of Mexico City, and M. Guillaume Pastor, CEO of General Maritime Freight out of Le Havre. As you can see, the organization is once again whole and moving in new directions.”

  Actually, thought Frederico, there is a great deal of money to be made with the Brazaero capabilities that no one yet knows. I also have my handpicked special assistant, Dieter, to keep watch on Elias and to make sure things go the right way for Brazaero.

  “As our impromptu host for the day, I ask that Elias start with a brief update.”

  “Thank you, Frederico, and may I say on behalf of all of us how glad we are to have you here. EOS continues its petroleum-based-chemical research and production. What is new is the beginning production of the deuterium-tritium pellets that will be needed to fuel the numbers of fusion engines we expect to see soon. The withdrawal of deuterium from water is not a problem, especially with Lake Maracaibo so close. We are looking into our own lithium mining but already have a large stock of raw material soon to be converted to tritium. We see no problem being an early and substantial supplier of this fuel when it is needed, and at a very competitive price. Without stealing some of José’s presentation, we will also be able to supply his needs at a cost far below market.”

  “Good to hear, Elias. Since you were mentioned so early, let us hear from you, José.”

  “Thank you, Elias, for the segue. Brazaero is in a unique position to take advantage of the new fusion engines. While we were not on the original global distribution for the engine specification and design, we have acquired a copy thanks to the efforts of Dieter and the sloppy security of one of the largest aircraft manufacturers in Brazil. We have also acquired the designs for a lifting body shaped spacecraft already being tested for a private passenger-carrying service and, potentially, operations to the International Space Station. On top of that, Frederico has given us access to an advanced computer and some robotic assistance that he had wisely stored in a remote location before the attack on Avantek in the Czech Republic. With a little work, we believe that the design can easily accommodate the fusion engine, giving us an early, if not the first, maneuverable spacecraft capable of operating off a runway. We look forward to taking the lead in near-Earth space flight,” José finished with the pride he felt in helping to place Brazil in the forefront of the global race to space.

  “That is wonderful news, José,” Frederico said, noting that José’s national interests might have to be curbed in the future. After all, he thought, I have my own plans for the spacecraft, and José will probably not like it. “Since Ruben cannot be here, I need to note that Pacific Technologies is able to perform the tasks of Avantek and Europa under two separate divisions. Under the medical division, he has done a marvelous job in recreating the work of Europa Medical, which we were forced to close. In fact, along with the work from Europa, he has made several advances including a drug that potentially delays the onset of ALS, which, as you know, is of particular importance to me, and I have been using it.” He didn’t say that the drug affected him in odd ways. “Needless to say, we have entered a completely new area of growth and, dare I say, domination. But do not doubt that we will leave nothing to chance.

  “Now if you all want to get freshened up, we will have dinner in an hour. Dieter, could you stay for a moment?”

  Everyone else filed out of the room except Dieter.

  “Dieter, I could not say this with the others, but you need to hear what I have to say and my instru
ctions.”

  “Yes, Frederico. Please go ahead.”

  I think this man is better than Eric Borman, Frederico thought. He is stoic and intense. As I recall, his father was a brute of a prison guard in the infamous German Democratic Republic Bautzen I prison in his East German hometown of Bautzen. I think the prison was called Gelbes Elend, or “Yellow Misery,” as the Americans refer to it. Perhaps that and Dieter’s being recruited by the Stasi when he was eighteen have resulted in his current skills and outlook. Whatever the reason, he is just what I need now.

  “Dieter, we—and I include you—have the chance to make a great deal of money in the next months if we ensure that the competition is not a problem. José is on a pace to have a flyable spaceship soon, and EOS is going to have fuel for it. What we don’t need are some other companies to be first before we are ready, and there is only one way to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “I think I understand, sir. What companies are you worried about in particular?”

  “Right to the point. Good. A company in Germany called Fusion Tech is in position to have a working engine before José, which would not be good. I have plans for his spaceship, which will be of no value if it is not the first to fly. José does not know this, of course.

  “There is also a company in the Philippines that is making fast progress on fuel. That is a greater problem. I want EOS to dominate the fuel market. Fuel will be the long-term winner, like ink is the real winner in the printer market. If companies fail soon, we are ahead. Later, their value will be depressed and we can buy them for a song if we want. All the details are in this folder, along with funding access as you need it.”

  Dieter took the folder while still looking at Frederico. “Is that all, sir?”

  “Not quite,” Frederico said, looking through the rancho window at the sun reflecting off the blue pool in the back patio. “There is a man in the US named Van Childs. He and I have unfinished business. However, I have been out of contact with him for a while. Here is a packet with some information on him and a company called Stellar Projects. Put some assets on him, and, in particular, I want to know his travel activities and if he spends more time in one place or another.”