Immortal Guardian: Hoast Saga Book 2 (Host Saga)

by Michael Farlow

  “You don’t understand, Danao, times have changed. The Bataan protest was thirty years ago. The same methods don’t work today.”

  “Calm yourself, Barsa. Our process is well established. We obtain success with peaceful means.”

  “Sure, and what success have you had lately? None! To get things done these days you have to be more action oriented. Besides, progress is made faster these days due to improved technology. While we march around chanting and holding signs, Surigao Fuels will move quickly and with greater danger to us all!”

  “Nonsense. This is new technology, just as in Bataan. It will take time to develop—time in which we will win,” Danao argued.

  In frustration Barsa shook his head of dark black hair and looked away, then back at Danao.

  “Look, Danao, I know you have experience with successful protests, but can’t you see that things move much faster today? Just look at how fast communications technology has advanced or how fast production lines have become. We live in a world that is changing faster than ever. We need to change along with it.”

  Danao gazed into the younger man’s bright brown eyes and said, “I know what it is like to be young and full of energy and ideas. But I also know that maturity and experience lead to success. I’m sorry, but we cannot be as aggressive as you would like. It would defeat our intent and our progress.”

  Barsa slammed his hands on the table with a loud bang, sprang to his feet, and walked swiftly out of the café.

  Dieter watched and listened to all of this and followed the young man out of the café. He had his man.

  Years ago, Dieter had been recruited by the Stasi in part because of his great facility with languages. But here in the Philippines, English seemed to be universally spoken and understood.

  “Excuse me,” said Dieter as he caught up with Barsa. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in the café. My name is Eric, by the way, and I am part of a German group here to protest the dangerous work of Surigao Fuels, just like you.”

  Barsa stopped and looked him over. Dieter was over six feet and towered over the much shorter Pilipino man. “So why talk with me? As you seem to have heard, my ideas aren’t welcomed here.”

  “Change is a hard thing for people to embrace, especially older people like your friend in the café. But I think you are right. More action is required with this situation. Unfortunately, there are only a few of us here, and we cannot do much alone.”

  “If only other people here thought like you. But do you have an idea?”

  “Yes, I think so. As I said, my group is a small one. In fact, there are only three of us, and two have gone to Manila to help with protests in the capital. But we are well funded. What would you say if I told you there was a way to disrupt Surigao Fuels’ progress or even stop them completely and quickly?”

  “If this is true and if there is a way to stop this development now, I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”

  “Do you have sympathetic contacts in the plant?”

  “Yes, a few.”

  “Good. Then I happen to have a list of a few technical adjustments that can be made to the plant’s process. They are not dangerous but can slow or stop progress for a long time.”

  “And no one will get hurt?”

  “Nobody,” Dieter lied.

  “But what if these people want some payment? I haven’t any money that would make a difference.”

  “As I said, my group is few in number, but we are well funded. Along with instructions to your friends, we can provide some money to encourage them.”

  “You are positive nobody will be hurt?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “OK, but my friends must approve the plans.”

  “Not a problem. Come by my room, 106, at the Barton Hotel tonight about seven and I will give you what you need.”

  “Thank you, I will,” Barsa said, while at the same time dreaming of his success and the chance to show the association how effective new thinking could be.

  Fortunately for Dieter, he had departed the Philippines before the Surigao reactor exploded, leveling many of the surrounding businesses and throwing radioactive material into the air. The deaths of all the employees, along with Barsa and others in the city, were entirely overlooked against the backdrop of a nuclear incident, even a small one. The worldwide press played the nuclear red flag at all hours. And, like the reaction to the fusion engine incident in Germany, worldwide production of the fuel was halted, even in Brazil. Fortunately for José Silva and Brazaero, however, EOS had produced a large quantity of the fuel and was ready to provide it to their partner.

  Van was at Site R the day of the Surigao catastrophe.

  “It happened again, Harry! What the hell went wrong this time?”

  “Unknown, Commander. As with the engine, the production of the fuel has been a long and successful process for the Host. There should have been no issues if the designs and specifications were followed properly. I am running a Big Brother search to see if I can detect any similarities with the German incident.”

  “OK, but I’m starting to worry about these incidents. I can expect humans to screw things up now and then, but not quite like this. We need to figure out what’s happening.”

  This was frustrating. Something was happening to slow or stop his and Harry’s plan to introduce space flight to the world and prepare for the Arkon. At the same time, however, the Iraq site was in danger of being unearthed, to say nothing about thousands of lives being threatened. The Iraq site and the dam have to take precedence, he thought.

  “We need to see what Dick has planned for the Mosul Dam project and make our plans to uncover and clean out the Iraq site. Any ideas on that?”

  “Yes, Commander. With the distraction of the Mosul defense, we can use the B1 and the B2 to transport some of our robots to the Iraq site to begin digging it out. The shuttles can also be used as support for the dam defense if necessary and later to haul away the contents of the site.”

  “I was thinking something similar. If we do have to support the fight, I would like a less conspicuous weapon on the shuttles than just the 30mm cannon. Can you create and install a large broad-area stun weapon for the B1 and the B2 in case we need it?”

  “Yes, Commander. We have a suitable design on file that I can adapt and install.”

  “Good. Make it happen. Now let’s get hold of Dick.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Several minutes later: “Sorry for the delay, Van, I wasn’t in the Ops Center when Harry initiated the contact. But we are all here now. Before we update you, do you have something for us?”

  “I think so. Harry is now in the process of configuring the B1 and the B2 with an even more powerful stun weapon with much greater range and area of impact. That, along with the existing 30mm cannon, should provide interesting air support, especially with both craft in use if required. How have you progressed?”

  “I’ll let Brice talk about that. Brice, you’re on.”

  “Thanks, Dick. In the last few days, I’ve managed to convince several free-agent forces to group together and provide support to the defenders of the dam and its environment. It will be expensive, just like Dick and I thought.”

  “We aren’t worried about the cost at the moment, Brice. The best question is, can this work?”

  “We think so. We managed to recruit nearly a hundred and fifty experienced operators, who will be well armed. We have arranged to fly them into Mosul and then fly them and their supplies to the dam in some Iraqi-donated helos ASAP.”

  “And the plan of attack?” Van asked with interest.

  “That will be up to the operators. Part of the conditions of the contract with them is that they plan and execute their own op. We just supply the money and the support.”

  “And if the fight has already started by the time the operators get there?”

  “Again, that’s up to them.”

  Van thought about this for a moment. Sounds like a reasonable plan
, minimal risk on our part, which leaves Harry and me free to do our own business. I like it.

  “Sounds like you have things under control, Brice. Harry and I can be in the area with the B1 and perhaps the B2 within hours of being alerted. However, I’m looking forward to peacefully cutting circles in the sky. All we need is a frequency and contact information for you and your contract forces. Anything else?”

  “Not really. We’ll pass you the time on station and the contact information you need. Just be there if needed.”

  That ended the call, but not before Van saw Barbara waving and smiling at him in the background. Then his thoughts shifted to the coming action. I just hope Harry and his robots are fast enough in case something goes wrong at the dam.

  CHAPTER 8

  The next day Van and Harry were at work preparing for the Iraq mission. Level 3 of Site R was normally a quiet place. No people talking or joking, no loudspeakers blaring out information. Just quiet. Until now.

  Clank, clank, clank went metal feet on the metal deck.

  This is rich, thought Van. And a sight nobody on Earth has ever seen. Robot after robot passed him on their way to the B1 and the B2. Supplies had been loaded first, before the robots boarded. Each red – and yellow-striped robot moved in, then squatted and sat on the shuttle cargo deck as they reached the farthest spot that was clear to use.

  “How many are we taking, Harry?”

  “Thirty total is all we can carry, Commander, and still have room for the contents of the site.”

  “And just thirty can move all that sand?”

  “Yes, Commander, and more. Remember, they never stop, and work fast.”

  “And we have thirty big shovels?” Van said jokingly.

  “No, Commander. There are shovels, of course, but we have tracked attachments for the robots that allow several of them to act like small Earth movers. ‘Bulldozers,’ I think you call them.”

  “Of course.” But Van was still a little worried. Harry and I can be successful only if the dam holds and only if we can complete our mission before the dam is secured and the threat eliminated before daylight. Some big ifs there.

  There were no homes or business within miles, and even the road into the Primeiro test facility from Highway 158 was long and dreary. But over the past few days, there had been a steady flow of trucks and vehicles making the nearly eleven-hour drive from São Paulo. A successful ignition test of the fusion engine had been performed in the São Paulo facility, and the engine shipped to the mating building at Primeiro along with the prototype flight vehicle.

  The builders of the facility were paid to build a series of hangars and support buildings that all looked old and in disrepair. They had done their jobs well. The masonry walls of the buildings were distressed and then painted to reflect mold and decay. The metal roofs were scratched, and natural rust was allowed to accumulate, as well as simulated rust painted on. Many of the windows appeared to be cracked or broken as well as being dark, having been painted on the inside to enhance the deserted appearance and to contain any light inside the buildings. The grass and foliage around the entire site was allowed to grow and was not maintained in any way. Most of the vehicles in use appeared to be trucks and cars at least twenty years old. Anything newer was kept hidden in the large hangar buildings. The large delivery trucks that came in at night left that same night after unloading and wound their way back to São Paulo.

  The tarmac and the runways would appear nearly new and in superior condition if one were to be standing on them at the time. From a distance or overhead, however, they appeared to be discolored with age with numerous pot holes and deteriorating edges. The only thing that moved on a regular basis was the tattered remnant of a faded orange wind sock flying from one of the hangars. Inside the buildings was another story.

  The two hangars were immaculate inside, with white interior walls and shiny light gray floors. There was both red and white lighting for night and day operations, as well as cranes, tool boxes, and a large store of spare parts in a controlled bin. Next to the hangars was what appeared to be the old operations and tower building. The inside, in fact, contained a state-of-the-art control center downstairs and living quarters upstairs with a messing facility. Everything was air-conditioned, and electricity for the buildings and runway lighting was provided by large generators stored in what appeared to be an old barn.

  Primeiro tests were proceeding well. In addition to the fusion engine, José had decided before the trip to Primeiro to equip the spacecraft with the two side-mounted turbine engines that had originally been part of the core airframe to assist with takeoff and landing as well as initial climb-out. He did this also to prevent potential high-heat damage to the runway and act as a safety measure for atmospheric flight. Initial taxi tests had been perfect, only a few adjustments having had to be made. This evening would be the first airborne test of the craft and in-flight ignition of the fusion engine.

  Just as the sun was setting, the spacecraft, now named the Passaro, or “bird” in Portuguese, stood throbbing at the end of the runway.

  “No radios tonight,” commented the pilot to the copilot. “Strictly visual signals from the tower. Secrecy is important.”

  The copilot looked up from his checklist and nodded.

  When both pilots saw a green light flash from the portable control tower on the edge of the runway, the pilot pushed the two turbine throttles forward for takeoff power. The Passaro quickly accelerated down the runway.

  “Power at full. Passing V1,” the copilot reported to the pilot. “V2,” he announced seconds later, signaling the pilot to rotate and climb.

  The Passaro briskly broke from the ground and started a modest climb out. As in many tests of this sort, the landing gear remained down.

  At two thousand feet, the pilot announced, “Ignite fusion engine.” And, to his great relief, it worked! Both pilots were thankful for all the hours they had spent in the José Silva–designed simulator, in which they had practiced this transition many times.

  “Turbines to idle,” commanded the pilot as the copilot pulled the conventional power levers rearward. They were now flying using the fusion engine alone.

  The flight plan called for several circles of the airstrip and then a return for inspection and debrief. After four cycles around the field, the copilot announced, “Green light from the tower, time to land.” And just like that, the first fusion-powered flight on Earth was completed. A short but historic flight.

  The Primeiro crowd that greeted the pilots consisted of everybody who could get to the tarmac. José was ecstatic.

  “Members of the Primeiro team,” José said jubilantly, “we have achieved a first in the road to space. We should all be proud. Proud of this achievement and proud because it was made by Brazilians! No longer will we be followers to the stars. We will be leaders.” José had to stop; his joy was overwhelming and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He settled for embracing the members of the team and saying a personal thanks to everyone.

  Only two days had gone by when Van and Harry received the alert from Brice. They had been airborne for hours by the time they arrived on station in Iraq. Night had fallen, and the Moon was only a slim crescent. Perfect conditions for us, thought Van only minutes out from the buried Host site in the B1. Harry flew the B2 close by.

  Flashes of gunfire and streams of red tracers could be seen in the darkness toward Mosul Dam.

  “Looks like the fight has started, Harry.”

  “Yes, Commander. That will be a good distraction to our approach, even in our stealth mode. We are bound to throw some sand and dust into the air when we land.”

  “True enough. Good thing the robots are programmed to start right away so we can lift off in a hurry. We might be needed. By the way, the robots are only going to dig a path to the entrance and the control bar, correct?”

  “Yes, Commander, we will not have time to unearth the whole site and then cover it again by dawn.”

  The two shuttles lande
d twenty-five yards on either side of the buried site, and the shuttle ramps lowered, allowing the robots and their equipment to exit. With the ramp down, Van could now hear the distant explosions and the sound of staccato gunfire echoing across the desert floor.

  The D2 drone Harry and Van provided the Carson Group circled high over Mosul Dam. It provided visual support as well as secure communications between the mercenary forces at the dam and the Carson Group, which was safe in Virginia. In the operations center, Dick and Barbara observed the action while Brice controlled the actual coordination with his forces on the ground. Two large screens showed both IR and visual images from the drone, and their light gave an eerie glow to the darkened Ops Center.

  Taking a break from his communications duties, Brice slipped off his headset and turned to Dick and Barbara.

  “So far things are looking good,” he said. “The commander of the teams, Alfa One, has all his men on or around the dam. He has taken a position across from the opposition forces on the western slopes overlooking the dam. He also has men between the four water towers and the power station. Finally, one team is maneuvering to the area below the downstream side of the dam where the grouting was taking place. He says he can see rebel forces down there attempting to place charges in the grouting holes.”

  “How about the inside of the dam? Anybody there yet?” Dick asked.

  “Not yet. There’s a firefight going on in the turbine generator section. That has to be cleared before anybody can check the tunnels that spread through the dam itself. Oh shit, wait a minute—drone coverage shows some sort of mobile force approaching the dam. Looks like they may be coming along the road from Abu Wajnam and Kisik Kupri in the northwest.” And, with the new information, Brice put his headset back on and contacted Alfa One with the bad news.