The Guardian Collection (End of the Sixth Age Book 2)

by Col Bill Best

  Those were the orders. And he instructed his navigator to watch radar—not that they would detect approaching stealth F-22 Raptors—while he and his co-pilot scanned the skies.

  As Major Shimko’s bomber dropped below 25,000 feet, his engineer hollered and pointed straight ahead. By the time Shimko followed his gesture, the small point approaching them had become a strange aircraft that streaked past and between the two bombers. They expected a sonic boom from the clearly supersonic craft. Instead, they only heard a strange “swoosh,” a sound like a high-pitched woman’s scream, and a roar as if from multiple engines on full afterburner.

  Instinctively, but too late to have made any difference, both pilots had turned away, spreading their two-ship formation farther apart.

  “Maintain course!” he barked to the other ship. “I’m calling Ops!”

  As he initiated the call via satellite, the strange delta-shaped craft circled around and streaked across in front of them, from left to right.

  Inside that delta-shaped craft, Cliff had turned on the Terminal Targeting System and the LIDAR and applied power to charge the rail gun’s capacitor bank. He flew a large arc and lined up several miles behind the bombers. Radar would have been useless, but the TTS had no problem seeing the aircraft on the cloudless day.

  “Piece of cake,” said Cliff as the first slug fired. Cliff climbed to pass the bombers above and to the right.

  The slug would have missed a warhead, at only several feet in diameter. The Russian bombers were hundreds of times larger. The slug slammed into the bomber on the right, ripping a hole through the bat-shaped wing two-thirds of the way toward the wing tip. Fuel spilled from the ruptured wing tank.

  “We’re hit!” exclaimed Captain Volkov.

  “Abort! Back to Russia. Evade!” ordered Shimko. “What’s the damage?”

  “Controls are good, but we’re losing fuel from the right wing. We’ll transfer remaining fuel from both wing tanks to center, but we’ll need the tanker sooner. What is that thing?”

  Cliff’s long arc took him many miles out as he continued supersonic, then brought him back facing the bombers as they began to turn back to Russia. He fired his second round.

  The TTS boresight compensation routine put the hypersonic slug directly through the center of the crippled bomber and splattered through the fuselage, as the slug converted to molten metal and plasma. What was left of the slug blew a huge hole out the rear. Before Captain Volkov could radio updated status, the aircraft exploded.

  The flash drew the attention of Roger and Karen as they were reducing speed and dropping altitude.

  “There! Three o’clock and low!” Karen exclaimed.

  “I see it. Looks like Cliff went in for a kill,” Roger responded. He continued his descent and pulled back to Mach Four. Karen directed their TTS and optics to concentrate on the area around the explosion. Roger charged the capacitor bank.

  “What do you make out?” he asked.

  “Large bat-wing aircraft—the bomber—and…there it is! System Two! He’s coming around; we’ve only got a few seconds!”

  “Lock?”

  “Got him!”

  “Fire quick; if we hit him too close to the bomber, it’ll take it out, too.”

  Cliff, you should have left your optical stealth on.

  Major Shimko saw a flash of light around him, from an explosion that took place miles behind his aircraft. Several seconds later, he heard a deafening explosion. Moments later, he and his crew also experienced several seconds of severe buffeting.

  In Honolulu, anyone looking in a particular direction saw a bright flash off in the distance, high in the sky. Then about two minutes later, they heard the muted sound of a distant, but very large explosion.

  The remaining PAK-DA bomber set a return course for Russia and climbed to best cruise altitude, while the crewmembers continued to scan the skies for the mysterious aircraft that had downed their twin. The never saw the strange aircraft again.

  For more reasons than one, they never saw its remaining twin either.

  + + +

  Dinner was over, and Jason Matthews was officially greeting his attendees and the press. He was in rare form, actually looking “presidential,” as one of the reporters tweeted.

  An aide quickly approached him and held out a hand-scribbled note.

  “Sir, excuse me…important…the president and everyone at the convention center…”

  Before he could finish, Senator Matthews took the note, glanced quickly at it, and somberly scanned the faces of the assembled crowd. As he did, Multiphones began to vibrate throughout the room.

  “My friends, my fellow Americans, I’ve just been notified of a terrible tragedy,” he said deliberately. “As you know, this great nation has many adversaries. It appears that one has just attacked the convention center where our president, vice president, speaker of the house, and hundreds of our colleagues and friends were gathered.”

  He paused dramatically for effect, but silently he was frustrated that many were getting the same information from texts and emails over their phones.

  “I’m afraid there were no survivors,” he stated sadly. He even conjured a bit of mist in his eyes. An Oscar-worthy performance, he thought. He had done it. He had successfully launched the coup.

  “Sir?” the aide spoke up from off to the side. He looked distressed.

  “Senator Matthews?” said one of the network reporters. “The attack was defeated.”

  A female newspaper reporter spoke up. “Two agents were killed, and two Coast Guard cutters were sunk, but a submarine destroyed the attacking boat,” she said.

  Just as he was on the night he lost the debate and the election, Senator Matthews was suddenly flustered and speechless.

  “A submarine?” he blurted. “A submarine?!”

  He looked at the note he’d been given, then at the crowd that had suddenly become strangely silent.

  “I… I, uh… well, this is indeed good news! I thought…”

  “Just what did you think, Senator?” asked a respected elderly reporter, a man in his seventies. He wasn’t smiling.

  59. RESOLUTION

  “So, where do we make our home now?” Karen asked as they flew east at 75,000 feet, and a leisurely Mach Three. Those were the parameters she calculated would give them the maximum range.

  “Should we try to return to Grand Forks?”

  “Just checked. Hangar’s gone.”

  “You…just checked?”

  “Satellite feed. Pretty secure, but not for Guardian’s processing. And I hack for entertainment. Have to, to stay ahead of Matthews and his goons.”

  “Hmm. Okay, well, let’s catch up on what’s going on and see if anyone else has any suggestions.”

  They quickly informed General Alvarez, Justin, and Tamika that Cliff had destroyed one Russian bomber, and that System Two was destroyed before it could attack the second aircraft. Since the attacks involved stealth aircraft and took place well out to sea, there was no evidence that Hickam was even aware of the confrontation. They didn’t see any interceptors scrambled.

  General Alvarez quickly summarized the failed attack on the president and other personnel, humbly leaving out his heroic role in saving President Garcia. Unknown to them at the time was the viral explosion of news feeds and social media over the senator’s gaffe. It seemed that Jason may have implicated himself in foreknowledge of the attack against national leadership. Even liberals were demanding a full investigation.

  They discussed a new home for Roger, Karen, and the aircraft. The General now knew about her conversion and suggested a return to Robins Air Force Base until a more permanent arrangement could be secured.

  Roger programmed Warner Robins, Georgia into the autopilot and relaxed.

  “I like that. It’s not too far from a place I have in mind for us.”

  “Really?” Roger responded.

  “Yes, actually a small farm I own under one of my other names. It used to be a small airfie
ld, with a hangar for crop dusters and a suitable runway. Justin and Tamika could stay in the house. It’s pretty much off the grid, so to speak. I have some things stored there. It’d be perfect to bring the team together.”

  “The team?”

  “Do you want to have hangars bulldozed down around us? I think we need a place of our own. It seems that General Alvarez is trustworthy. He can keep us informed and send us on alert when necessary. I’ve done a full background investigation on him.”

  “You hacked DOD records as well? You’re scary,” he quipped.

  “I’ve had to protect myself. I thought many times of going on the offensive, of taking out Matthews and his people. At one time, it actually became an obsession. I’ve planned dozens of attacks and I know I could do it. I just came to realize that’s not what God wants me to do.”

  “So, you stay on the defensive?”

  “For now. But I won’t hesitate to defend myself. Never again.”

  “But…hacking?”

  “I had to know my enemy to protect myself from him. Who do you think was behind the deep web?”

  “Really? And Bitcoin?”

  “Nope. Can’t take credit for that one. And definitely not the dark web. But like I said, I have to stay sharp and know what the other side is up to.”

  “So, you hack instead of playing word games?”

  “How else did you think I looked over all your medical records? You didn’t think I just walked into your doctor’s office and asked for your charts? Of course, I now know more about you than their charts would show.”

  “Okay…tell me, how’s my prostate?” He chuckled.

  Karen smiled and didn’t say a word.

  “You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding!”

  She laughed pleasantly. “Your prostate’s fine, and you have no other cancer either. And I know that by the blood work I did, not the old-fashioned way.”

  “I’ll say it again. You’re scary!”

  “I’m alive. And I’m absolutely certain that I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t learned to be careful. The world should be very, very grateful that Matthews didn’t succeed with FSAT.”

  “Oh?”

  “The transition tends to enhance whatever motivations or personality characteristics we already have, even if they’re latent. I saw some really, really ugly examples of that with a few of Matthews’ experiments.”

  “So…we’re not like any kind of new race or anything?”

  “Not even close. The Bible describes Christ as the Second Adam, of course, and he’s the last one. No sin of his own, so he could die sacrificially as a sin-bearer for us. And the FSAT transition made me sterile, destroying my ova. I’m the end of the line; like somehow God wanted just one of me. I’m even ‘one-deep.’ I developed the serum to transition you, but that’s as far as it goes. Your blood and DNA can’t be used to help anyone else. And even I can only pass it on under extremely controlled conditions. Like I said, you’re Number Two.”

  “And, of course, you and I are double-unique.”

  “Yep, you’re stuck with me, old guy. Get used to it. I’m even looking forward to letting my hair return to its natural color. So now we’re a team, and you’re the leader.”

  “Leader?”

  “Correct. You’re it. Sorry, I took the vote while you were recovering from surgery. You were volunteered. Leadership has never been my strong suit. Neither is organization, and I think Tamika would be perfect for that.”

  “Why do I somehow get the feeling that I’ve been railroaded? You’re the smartest person on the planet, and you want a tired old engineer to be a leader?!”

  The playful banter continued as they streaked toward Robins Air Force Base, with not even a sonic boom giving away their leisurely supersonic cruise.

  “Hey, just ’cause I got a few years’ head start, don’t think you won’t catch up fast. You had a higher IQ to begin with, a whole lifetime of using it to the max, and you’re an obvious leader or we wouldn’t be flying in your aircraft right now. You know Justin thinks the world of you.”

  “So… exactly what am I the reluctant leader of?”

  “What we just did. The way I see it, we need to be making a difference for Christ however we can, while we still can. Things are already far worse than anyone could have imagined at the turn of the century. Once the Church is removed, all hell will break loose, literally. We know the Tribulation, especially the last half, will be unimaginably horrible. So, while we can, we need to support good ministries, meet humanitarian needs, protect our country; whatever. As Jesus said, we need to work while it’s light because a time of darkness is coming when no one can work.”

  “So would I be correct to presume that a lot of otherwise unexplainable good things over the past several years could be attributed to a lovely redhead, or whatever color it was at the time?”

  “Let’s just say, God has given me some unique opportunities and His grace has led to some interesting outcomes.”

  “Do tell…?”

  “Plenty of time for that. You’ll be in for some interesting surprises yourself.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, factoring in our advanced time frame, your recovery from the surgery, the rate of genetic alterations…Roger, if we went to a gym right now, I suspect there’s currently only one person alive today who could out-lift you. And within another week, you will be able to out-lift me as well. Same thing with running, jumping, and endurance. Think ‘Samson.’ Really! Just that you won’t have to wear your hair long.”

  “Then I’m not just feeling good because we stopped the attack?”

  “When you look at yourself in a mirror, you’ll already see a huge difference. And your occasional A-Fib should already be history. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you have a regenerated, fully healthy gallbladder within a few weeks.”

  “So…you won’t be stuck with an old man?”

  She chuckled. “Oh, no my friend. Pretty soon I’ll be the one struggling to keep up with you. Like I said before, we’re stuck with each other.”

  “And we’re stuck with the aircraft.”

  “Yes, but we can go out for maybe a day at a time.”

  “Really? I started going into respiratory distress in less than half an hour.”

  “I’ve done the math. We can carry a backpack with a couple of slugs, or some other dense converted object, and go out for a while. Kind of a ghost patrol.”

  “Hmm. Like reflections of a shadow. That could certainly weird some people out.”

  “Gotta admit, it makes me think again about going after Matthews and his team for all the years they made my life such a nightmare.” She took a deep breath then continued. “But on a positive note, you’ll be glad to know that Guardian is stable for at least fifty years, or until it slams into a mountain, whichever occurs first. More good news, the explosive transition effect can only occur if an impact occurs at hypersonic speeds. It has to be severe enough to create a plasma, not just a crash, or fire, or even a normal explosion. Tearing down the hangar wouldn’t have caused it, nor would a tornado. I’m estimating at least Mach Six, which is why the slugs are so effective at speeds well above Mach Ten.”

  “That’s a relief! I’ve been terrified of doing more damage than what Justin and I prevented.”

  They were both quiet for a beat. When she spoke again, she was more reflective. “I have no idea what all the Lord has for us. We are absolutely unique in the history of this world. And the timing which has brought us together, and how we are now both double-unique? It’s a ‘God thing,’ as they say. But I’m convinced that he means for us to occupy till he returns.”

  “I agree. I’m amazed and humbled, and…well, a little scared. ‘From everyone who has been given much, much will be required.’ I’m just so grateful that you chose to come to me and were able to.”

  “I prayed hard and long. When you told me a chameleon somehow survived, I had peace that I could too. A chameleon is known for its ability to adapt and to r
egenerate lost tails. I don’t have a tail in that sense, but I guess I have the best ability to adapt and otherwise regenerate of any person alive until you joined me as Number Two.”

  Roger changed the subject after looking at his navigation display.

  “Hmm. Well, we should be at our new home in less than half an hour. You’ll love the decor; early 1980’s hangar, wall-to-wall painted concrete floor, and high ceilings. Really high ceilings. And the food…! All the latest MREs and the very best of discount store bottled water. All the comforts of home.”

  There was a long, relaxed pause as they were each lost in their own thoughts.

  For his part, Roger engaged in one of his eight-second odysseys, considering the future and the possibilities. It was very pleasant.

  Finally, Karen spoke up again.

  “Roger?” she asked quietly.

  “Hmm?”

  “The answer is yes,” she said softly. The non-magnetic transducers flawlessly transferred every vocal nuance from her microphone to Roger’s noise-cancelling headset. His now-years-younger ears heard perfectly, even though what she had said was just above a whisper.

  He didn’t answer immediately.

  “Do I know the question?” His voice was also uncharacteristically quiet. His strong, healthy heart was racing.

  “I think you do. And the answer is yes.”

  Roger smiled. He really was feeling younger—decades younger—and he was certain it couldn’t be entirely attributed to the effects of FSAT.

  Guardian was back over the continental United States. It streaked across state after state at Flight Level Seven Five, at a comfortable cruise speed of Mach Three. About the same altitude and speed of the SR-71 Blackbird spy plane, retired decades earlier.

  Below was Texas, where it all began. Just over six months ago, Roger reflected.

  I knew I was going to die, whether the intercept succeeded or not. I couldn’t land the aircraft. Karen…Jennifer back then… expected to die when she took FSAT. It was the only way to save her friends.