The End of the Beginning

“Chief Hernandez,” called a guardsman over the radio.

“This is Hernandez, go ahead.”

“Airport terminal is evacuated and secure. Guardsmen are at every entrance and exit. We have two drones airborne and waiting to escort. And, as requested, Phoenix 27 has been fully fueled with traditional aviation fuel and is ready for takeoff upon your order.” “Good. You may begin preflight startup sequence for Phoenix 27. Once startup is complete you may send it on its way. Have it take up a cruising radius of twenty miles around the base holding at 10,000 feet.” “Yes, sir.”

“Any sign of Emerson and his friends?”

“Negative, sir. We’ve had no contact since one of our patrols found them in an unfinished seawater holding tank in the Port Section over six hours ago. As you know, they were gone when reinforcements arrived.” “Okay. Stay alert. He’s out there. Once we arrest Hammond and Colonel Morrison we’ll put full attention back to him.”

Five guardsmen came in through the base command centers airlock. Two stayed back at the door, the other three made their way through the center, past the holographic globe over to a computer console.

The senior officer in the room, a major, ran up to the guardsmen and asked, “What the hell is going on? We’ve been stuck in here for nearly twelve hours with almost no information. We’ve got the US government and the UN Security Council calling us every three seconds asking us what the hell is going on. What is Hernandez thinking right now with this blackout? Why is Phoenix 27 filled with carbon-based fuel? I demand a further explanation to all of this!” “That isn’t your concern right now,” said a guardsman bluntly. “We are on a communications lockdown at Sequence Red. That’s all you need to know.” Reaching their intended computer console one of the guardsmen placed a gray plastic suitcase atop it with a thud and opened it.

“Bring Phoenix 27 online, now,” said another brutish guardsman to the UNIRO technician sitting at the console. “Begin preflight startup and all system checks. Interface your console with the computer inside this suitcase. It will have all the flight information you need.” “Why?” asked the technician suspiciously. “Did that order come from Base Commander Hammond?”

“Base Commander Hammond is no longer in command here Rescue Officer. Chief Hernandez is in control of Base Tranquility now.”

“I won’t carry out any order without Base Commander Hammond’s authorization. I’m sorry,” said the technician.

“Is that so?” said the guardsman hostilely. He pulled out his handgun from his thigh holster and aimed it at the technician’s head.

“What the hell are you doing, Guardsman? Are you insane? Put your gun away!” cried the major.

The technician began shaking and kept his head forward. Fear and intimidation seemed to suck the air out of the octagon.

“Begin preflight sequences now Rescue Officer,” ordered the guardsman. “You are no longer in control here. We are.”

A convoy of ISAF vehicles drove out onto the airport apron. The sun was rising through thick dark clouds, which were unleashing a downpour. It was 9:03 a.m. eastern time. Hernandez was in the cab of the third vehicle from the front of the convoy, in an armored personnel carrier that had been used over a decade ago in Afghanistan, now heavily modified to run off of hydrogen along with some other new tech advancements.

“Tranquility Tower, this is Chief Hernandez. What is the status of Base Commander Hammond’s aircraft?”

“Hernandez, this is Tranquility Tower. Base Commander Hammond’s plane is descending through 2,000 on final approach. We will divert her aircraft upon landing to parking space ten. It is away from the main terminal and is still under construction.” “Copy tower. We will head over there now. Over and out.”

Hernandez switched radio channels to speak to the rest of the convoy.

“Attention convoy leader, head to parking space ten. Once there form a perimeter with the vehicles around the space. Dispatch our drones to begin escort of Base Commander Hammond’s aircraft immediately.” The lead patrol car turned on its blue and red warning lights that ran parallel on the edges of the cars roof and began heading to the indicated aircraft parking space. Hernandez watched as two of ISAF’s fixed wing drones flew up into the low cloud layer, each one armed with four missiles.

“Commander,” called a subgroup general. “Look.”

Hammond followed his vision out the right side of the plane. A drone appeared through the gray several hundred feet off their wingtip.

“Uh-oh,” John whispered.

Hernandez stepped out of his vehicle into a puddle. He threw his long white standard issue ISAF raincoat on, putting it hood over his helmet. He cocked his P90 and then let his hang off his vest. He cocked his handgun as well and placed it snugly in his thigh holster. Guardsmen began running out of other armored vehicles in the large semicircle they had formed, taking up positions behind each truck and patrol car. Some took up positions atop the armored vehicles with sniper rifles or on machine gun turrets. A group of twenty guardsmen ran to Hernandez. A quadcopter drone was sent up to record everything.

They were next to a large fenced in dig sight where hydrogen pipelining was being installed that would soon connect to the Airport Sections hydrogen production facility. A bright yellow tower crane rose up from the dig sight. It was twelve stories tall with a boom nearly three quarters that length hovering over the parking space.

The twenty guardsmen lined up in two rows of ten behind Hernandez. Each guardsman also had long raincoats along with white fabric facemasks under their helmets that covered everything but their noses and eyes. Together with Hernandez, they all stepped into the middle of the semicircle and waited. The rain was torrential but Hernandez enjoyed it. It calmed him. He tried to feel every drop running down his body and listen to every drip that was made.

“Our purge will be greater than that of even Noah’s,” he whispered to himself with a grin. “Nothing will escape our flood. After today, the lie that is modern civilization will die and we’ll be free.” “Excuse me, sir,” said a guardsman who was suddenly standing beside him.

“Yes, guardsman?” answered Hernandez, staring out over the gloomy airport runways.

“Can you please sign this sir?” asked the guardsman, holding up a glass tablet. “It is an approval form for allowing all data from the Phoenix 5 network to be downlinked to ISAF Headquarters.” Hernandez looked down at the tablet screen.

“I just need your username and password, sir,” said the guardsman.

Hernandez took the glass tablet, typed in his information. He then handed it back to the guardsman.

“Thank you, sir.”

The guardsman went back into the two row ranks. A jet descended through the clouds with drone escorts. Hernandez smiled at it menacingly. He had longed for this moment.

“Everyone make ready!” he shouted.