“All you want is surveillance?” Dieter asked with a tentative smile.
“For now, yes.”
“Anything else, Frederico?”
“Only that you need to get ready for dinner and then get some rest. I want you to be gone tomorrow morning.”
CHAPTER 5
Another week had passed at Site R since Van’s meeting with Al. All the work was completed on the shuttles, and Van was dying to hear directly from Dick how his plan was doing. So he put in a call via their implant communications.
“Dick, do you have a few minutes?” Van asked from his chair in the Site R Ops Center.
“As it happens, I do. I just walked into the office after meeting with Barbara and Brice. What’s up?”
“Well, first I wanted to hear if there was any interesting news in DC or other places about the new engine.”
“Funny you should ask. Washington is abuzz with speculation about the engine and its uses. Lots of feelers going out to the companies developing the engine, with suggestions about government contracts for military and NASA use. The good thing about our choice of a distribution list is that these companies are playing hard to get. They see the great commercial applications and are slow to yield to projects that may require them to keep things secret beyond normal proprietary needs. There will be military and NASA uses for the technology, but as we hoped, it will not be kept from the public and commercial sectors. Same goes for international applications.”
While Dick was talking, Van casually rocked in his chair as he visualized the implications of what Dick was saying. He was pleased that governments were not successful in bottling up the technology as secret. Then he stopped his rocking and asked the next question. “Good to hear. Any idea who might be in the lead for the first flight?”
“Normally you would expect the lead to be by one of the big companies like Boeing or Airbus. However, some of the smaller companies, which are more agile, appear to be in the lead. For example, Galactic Adventures seems to be working with UK Engines Limited at an exceptional pace. Still hard to say who will be first, however. It might be any or none of these.”
Taking in Dick’s words for a moment, Van then resumed his rocking and said, “In a way, I hope it is one of the smaller companies. We can benefit from more competition and innovation. My second reason for calling is to alert you to my plan to visit you in the next few days. We have something that Brice will drool over.” And a broad smile broke over Van’s face as he thought about the sight of Brice seeing the new combat suits.
“Brice always likes it when you come up with something new. Just let us know when to expect you.”
“Thanks, Dick. See you all soon.”
Unknown to most people in the industry, except Frederico and Dieter, a small research and prototype group called Fusion Tech near Grafenrheinfeld, Germany, had received one of Harry’s data packages and was pressing hard to build a prototype fusion engine based on the detailed plans. They had contracted out the production of the parts and were in the process of assembling to first test the prototype. This would not have been possible so quickly without all the detailed plans and specifications provided anonymously by Harry. Their funding was sound and mainly came from a small group of investors who were counting on being among the first to break into the big future of space travel. Their biggest problem now was fuel for testing. To date there was no commercial fuel available, and they were trying desperately to use the provided specifications to make their own. So far, everything looked good in the few pellets they’d produced on their own, and all the initial fuel testing outside the engine was positive. They were about ready for the first limited test of fusion ignition in the prototype.
Security in the facility was good, and they counted on their relatively unknown status to be additional protection against intrusions and outside interest. They also took special care to keep a low profile since any sort of nuclear generation was frowned upon by German society, and, in fact, the local nuclear power plant had just been shut down. As a result, a number of the Fusion Tech employees came from the technical staff of that plant.
Dieter had taken a week to fly to Germany and reconnoiter the small town in which Fusion Tech operated. Now, using the name Klaus, he went to the local beer hall to observe some of the new Fusion Tech employees who had come from the now-closed reactor site. Two in particular were engaged in a loud beer-fed discussion.
“No, Ernst, we do not make as much money from this new company as we did before. But at least we have a job,” said Horst.
“Yes, but it doesn’t pay all the bills! They have us on a new-employee salary plan even though we have years of experience,” said Ernst, shaking his fist at Horst.
“That is true, but we aren’t exactly doing the same things we did for the government. What do you expect?”
“I expect more for all my years of work. I can barely pay for food and clothing for my children, and I am two months behind on my house payment.”
“I am in the same boat, but what can we do?”
That was the opening that Dieter was hoping for. Carrying two mugs of lager in one hand, and a third for himself in the other, he approached the table. “Gentlemen, I could not help but overhear your troubles. May I be of help?” he said.
“Who the hell are you?” said Ernst before Horst could ask the same thing.
“My name is Klaus, and I may have a way you can make some additional money,” said Dieter with a smile. He set the beers down and nodded to the men, inviting them to enjoy his gift.
Ernst and Horst looked at each other, both trying to figure out what game this man was playing. But they drank the beer without a question.
“So you say,” said Ernst. “And what would that be?”
“Perhaps we can take a walk outside, where I can explain without everyone hearing,” said Dieter, gesturing toward the door.
Ernst looked at Horst, who shrugged his shoulders and gave him an expression that silently asked, What can we lose by talking?
In silent agreement, the three men moved to the hall’s exit door and stepped outside.
“So what do you want and for how much?” Ernst said with an air of distrust.
“Nothing much. I have a client who wishes to slow down the progress of Fusion Tech,” said Dieter, realizing there was some small amount of truth to that. “We do not want to harm anyone, just do a few things to slow progress. For that my client is willing to pay you five thousand euros each.”
“That’s a lot of money. Are you sure nobody will get hurt?” Horst asked.
“Absolutely certain,” Dieter lied.
“And what is it that you want done?” asked Ernst.
“This is what I have in mind….” And with the promise of cash, Dieter explained to the two men how to make some subtle modifications to the test engine energy containment field that, he said, would prevent the engine from achieving ignition and, therefore, slow down their work.
When Dieter was finished, Horst and Ernst engaged in a short conversation, and then Ernst said, “For that we need ten thousand euros each.”
Dieter didn’t want to give in too quickly even though the amount they asked for was not a problem. “The best my client can do is nine thousand.”
“We’ll take it,” said Ernst with enthusiasm.
Dieter did not tell them that the weakened containment field would likely be catastrophic.
Three days later, early on a Tuesday morning, the Fusion Tech team gathered anxiously to see the successful test. Smiles were abundant, though a few senior scientists exhibited worry lines. Not all the employees were there, however; two of the relatively new ones had been seen celebrating early the night before and had called in “sick.” And Dieter was on a plane headed out of Germany.
At the stroke of 9:00 a.m. local time, the chief scientist said, “We are ready. Insert the fuel pellets and seal the containment chamber. We just need a few pellets for the ignition only.”
“Done,” called out an engine
er.
“Good,” the scientist said. “On the count of three, switch on the lasers and prepare for ignition. But be ready to switch off when I say!”
“One….” Everyone focused on their equipment.
“Two….” Anticipation stared to rise in the test chamber.
“Three….” And the switch was thrown.
In what less than a second, the pellets were ignited by lasers and started generating energy. But before the scientist could command the lasers to be secured for the end of the test, the weakened chamber created a containment breach, and an explosion occurred.
The explosion did relatively small damage, but the high temperatures set fire to the whole facility in a matter of minutes. Nobody was able to escape. The facility burned to the ground, and everyone at Fusion Tech, twenty-five people, was killed—except for the two extraordinarily lucky men who’d called in sick.
There was no nuclear fireball with ensuing mushroom cloud. But in Germany that did not matter. It would be seen as a nuclear accident in an already nuclear-unfriendly environment.
That day and the next, the press went crazy, as did the German people. But reaction was not limited to Germany alone. The world press seized on the story, and the gruesome images were sent around the globe in minutes. Crazed groups of the public demanded that all such work be stopped until investigations were completed. Some fringe groups resurrected their old antinuclear rhetoric and Armageddon predictions just to add to the mayhem. In just hours, all work on the engines was shut down by government decree—except in Brazil. Even there, the more responsible aerospace companies like BrazilAir stopped work voluntarily while investigations continued. But not Brazaero. Fortunately, Stellar was not involved—Harry had seen to it that the plans were distributed anonymously.
Watching one of his satellite feeds in the Ops Center, Van saw a small but apparently radioactive IR blossom in Germany. Waving his arms and hands in the air, he nearly shouted, “What the hell just happened, Harry?”
“Unknown, Commander. It appears to be the German Fusion Tech facility. I speculate that engine containment was breached, but the design and specifications were perfect. That should not have happened. There is a faint chance that the fuel pellets were not uniform, but that should have caused only ignition failure.”
“Focus the Big Brother system on the area of the explosion and see what you can discover.”
“Yes, Commander. I have already started.”
The Big Brother system was a creation of Harry’s, using a dedicated satellite system as well as all government and private cameras and data collection systems worldwide to collect and fuse information about target people, organizations, events, and even governments. It took massive amounts of computer power, but Harry and Site R had more than enough.
“Commander, initial assessment suggests that there might have been sabotage in the Fusion Tech test.”
“Why?”
“As I mentioned, Commander, the specifications were perfect, and if they manufactured parts as detailed, there should not have been a breach. It is a relatively simple process. In addition, the two surviving employees were absent from the test, and bank records show both had recent windfalls of about ten thousand dollars. Logic suggests those employees sabotaged the containment structure the day before the test.”
“But who would do that?”
“Again, unknown, Commander. It is logical that someone or some group wanted the whole process and perhaps even the idea of space flight to collapse on itself at least temporarily. That could be because of a real belief that man is not destined to travel in space, or it could be that someone wanted the process slowed down to gain an advantage.”
“My money’s on the latter, Harry. Has anybody interviewed those two Fusion Tech employees?”
“No, Commander. They seem to have disappeared.”
“Why am I not surprised? OK, using your systems, see if you can detect anyone still moving forward with the engine, the fuel, and possibly a ship. If we can find a few, that may reduce our areas of focus.”
“Yes, Commander. I am starting such a search now but it may take a while.”
“Understood, Harry.”
In São Paulo, José Silva grinned at the news. The accident in Germany was terrible, and he had no idea how it had happened, but it gave him the time he needed to do his work. Brazil’s work. It would be weeks and perhaps months before the competition could start production again.
In Brazaero’s private São Paulo facility, the fusion engine was nearly finished.
“Ernesto,” José said to his foreman, “are you sure you paid strict attention to the manufacturing process as well as assembly?”
“They are perfect, José. In addition, we expect the first delivery of fuel from EOS Chemicals before the end of the week at Primeiro.”
In the early and mid–nineteen forties, the Brazilian Air Force built a network of airstrips in remote areas, partly because of the worries about World War II, but also because of worries caused by a number of remote Indians who were a threat to Brazilian expansion. Later, many of these airstrips were used to support the various cattle ranches, mining operations, and timber producers. In recent years, however, many of them had been built up by drug cartels as part of their transportation system and subsequently destroyed by the Air Force. But many of the original airstrips still existed and were repairable. One of these was quietly reclaimed and improved by Brazaero to be used as a test facility. Located halfway between São Paulo and Cuiabá, it was about a five-hundred-mile trip northwest by road from São Paulo. Brazaero chose to call it Primeiro, meaning “first” in Portuguese. In this case, first to powered space flight.
“When do you think we can test the engine?” José asked.
“We scheduled the test for Friday, assuming the fuel will arrive on time.”
“Excellent, Ernesto. It is all finally coming together. By the way, I saw the first spacecraft frame just a few days ago. It isn’t a radical design and looks flyable. In fact, to get to the first basic flight quickly, the core of the airframe is from an existing business jet. If you have not seen it close up, it looks much like the Galactic Adventures Space Ship 2 but much more sturdy and with only one tail instead of two. Also, for reentry heat control for this and later craft, we found heat-resistant tiles left over from the US Space Shuttle program. If we need them, I understand there are also some available through the manufacturers of the tiles for the US orbital test vehicle, or OTV.
“This first ship is a simple, bare-bones craft, Ernesto, that we only expect to launch from Earth, maneuver in orbit, and return. As you know, the craft is pressurized, but the crew will wear pressure suits and helmets for the whole flight just in case. The better news is that we have a second, more capable craft under construction that will be slightly larger for more extensive use.”
“Yes, José. I have seen or heard of most of that, but it is good to have you confirm it all. If—excuse me—when we are successful in the first flight, it will be an earth-shaking achievement for Brazil and a huge profit generator for Brazaero.”
“That it will, Ernesto. That it will.”
But José had no idea what was in store for him and Brazaero.
That same day, Van was watching the world news in the Site R Ops Center.
“Commander,” said Harry as he walked into the room.
Van pulled his attention from the news broadcasts. “What is it, Harry?”
“I have completed a global search for fuel, engine, and airframe production related to the fusion engine and a potential flight. What I found is that virtually all the relevant companies and organizations that received the fuel formulas and processes continue to develop the required fuel. Apparently, they have confidence that the engine will eventually be used. In addition, one half of the aircraft designers and manufacturers are moving forward with designs and, in some cases, prototype spacecraft. Around the world, all governments except Brazil’s have demanded that work stop on the engine. But ev
en in Brazil, it appears that all companies have voluntarily stopped engine work. At present, therefore, I cannot provide you with a reasonable list of suspect organizations. There are just too many.”
“I understand, Harry. Keep looking. But as promised, we need to take a trip to Virginia tomorrow, as I suggested to Dick. Let’s take the B1 loaded with the armored Mk-1s.”
CHAPTER 6
The next evening, as planned, Harry and Van landed the B1 in darkness next to the Carson Group’s converted warehouse near Leesburg. Once the B1 was taxied into the enclosure, the doors were closed and red lights came on. Van shut down the engines, as well as the sound effects and other cosmetic items added by Harry to make the shuttle seem more like a conventional aircraft. Only Dick Carson knew the real extraterrestrial nature of the shuttles Van and Harry flew.
As Van and Harry walked down the ramp, they were greeted by the entire Carson team. Brice Johnson, Ross Taylor, Bobby Calhoun, and Jimmy Fletcher represented the tactical teams. Then, of course, there was Dick Carson and Barbara Fuller, the chief of Carson intelligence. Everyone wore smiles, and Barbara embraced him with a kiss.
“Welcome back, Van, and you too, Harry. Always good to see you both!” exclaimed Dick, shaking hands with each of them. “If you will come this way, we can gather in Brice’s secure briefing room. We have some news and perhaps some work for us all. Oh, and we had something to eat and drink brought in for you as well.”
“Thanks, Dick. We hadn’t bothered to eat before we left, so that will be great. Lead on.”
Immortal Guardian: Hoast Saga Book 2 (Host Saga) Page 4