by Jerry Ahern
“If we have a full blown outbreak, it’s going to be messy.” Walls pulled a brochure from his coat pocket and gave it to John. “This example will show you how we need to respond. It’s a synopsis of the first of three modules for the actions at the Emergency Operations Center on day one of the full-scale exercise. Similar plans are included for each element of play to include public information and rumor control. Players have to consider the availability and adequacy of local and state medical supplies to treat the epidemic and discuss how the Governor’s Office would make state-level assistance available to the affected counties. Finally, the players acknowledge that quarantine measures would have to be considered.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The CEO of Lancer Firearms, Daniel Ferguson, was new to his position but he and Rourke had met on several occasions. “Here’s what I’m going to need,” Rourke told him, “and this has to be an off-the-books project for reasons I can’t discuss. Agreed?”
“Sure John. Lancer doesn’t need to know why you need something. We just need to know what it is and then see if we can make it. You’re calling this contraption a flamethrower. From your layout I can guess what it does, but how does the damn thing work?”
“The flamethrower consists of two primary elements: a pressurized fuel source and the gun. On a man-portable version, the fuel source is located in a backpack element that usually consists of two or three cylinders. In a two-cylinder system, one cylinder holds compressed, inert propellant gas, usually nitrogen, and the other holds flammable liquid—typically gasoline with some form of fuel thickener added to it. A three-cylinder system often has two outer cylinders of flammable liquid and a central cylinder of propellant gas.”
“The gas propels the liquid fuel out of the cylinder through a flexible pipe and then into the gun element of the flamethrower system. The gun consists of a small reservoir, a spring-loaded valve, and an ignition system. Depressing a trigger opens the valve, allowing pressurized flammable liquid to flow and pass over the igniter and out of the gun nozzle. The igniter can be one of several ignition systems. A simple type is an electrically-heated wire coil. Another is a small pilot flame, fueled with pressurized gas from the system.”
“They were primarily used against battlefield fortifications, bunkers, caves, and other protected emplacements. The old flamethrower projected a stream of flammable liquid, rather than flame, which allows bouncing the stream off walls and ceilings of an enclosure. Typically, flamethrowers can incinerate a target at a distance between 165 to 270 feet.”
“I know that the concept of throwing fire as a weapon has existed since ancient times,” Ferguson said. “Early flame weapons date from the Byzantine era; these were rudimentary hand-pumped flamethrowers on naval vessels in the early first century AD.”
“Correct,” Rourke said. “The Germans invented the first flamethrower, in the modern sense. Our word ‘flamethrower’ comes from the German word, Flammenwerfer. That one saw service during the First World War. Improvements were made because that one shot a jet of fire and enormous clouds of smoke but only about twenty yards and it was a single-shot weapon. By the time the Second World War came along, significant improvements were made and they saw service in every theater of operations. The Soviets even went so far as to camouflage their flamethrowers. The ROKS-2 was disguised as a standard issue rifle and the fuel tanks as a standard infantryman’s rucksack, to try to stop snipers from specifically targeting flamethrower operators.”
“What range do you want this thing to have and how many do you need?”
“As much as you can push out of them. As soon as we have a working prototype we will need at least thirty. We want a man-portable version with a range of several hundred feet at least. We also want one that can be vehicle mounted; that one needs to have some real range and, since it’s on a vehicle, a man won’t have to haul the weight. If they work as planned, this could be a major deal for Lancer. There could be a global application because these things were outlawed years ago and you will be the only source.”
“John,” Ferguson said, “you know while Lancer is in business to make money, our primary focus has always been service—especially to you and your family and certainly our own government.”
“I know that,” Rourke said. “Your company has always been discrete and what you create is the equal of any product I’ve ever seen. When do you think you can have a working prototype to test?”
“Damn thing doesn’t appear to be very complex. Honestly, that’s what scares me. When something seems simple and easy, it generally isn’t. I can see this being extremely dangerous, not only on the business end of the nozzle but for the guy carrying it. I want to really test our theories—that is as soon as we develop some—before we go into full scale production. Let me get my design team on this and figure out how to do it. Give me two days to ‘noodle’ it and we can talk. Is that acceptable?”
Eighteen hours later, Rourke grabbed his phone on the second ring, “Hello.”
“John.” Rourke recognized Ferguson’s voice.
“Yes, Daniel.”
“Can you get over to Lancer? I’ve got something to show you.”
“Already?” Rourke asked. “I didn’t expect to hear from you until tomorrow.”
“Yes, my engineer came up with an idea. I want you to see it first before we go any further.”
Rourke looked at his Rolex, “Give me twenty minutes?”
“Fine, come on.”
Chapter Forty
“John, we ran into a couple of problems straight away,” Ferguson said. “But I think we have found a ‘work-around.’ If you agree to it, it will cut weeks off of production. You said this was a rush order, right?”
“That’s right,” Rourke said. “Time is definitely of the essence. Show me.”
Ferguson said, “Follow me out back.” They went through the production floor and out the rear of the building to the firing range where they tested new ideas. “John, this is Jim Downey, my head engineer.”
“Mr. Rourke,” Downey said as they shook hands. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“What have you got Jim? Daniel said you encountered some problems.”
Downey nodded, “Not serious problems, your design was simple enough from a mechanical point of view. The problem was the time frame. It would take us weeks to refit our production line just to come up with a prototype. However; I think this will work just as well and it is a lot quicker to construct.” He pulled out what appeared to be a standard energy rifle from its case.
Rourke shook his head, “This won’t work guys, we need flame and heat on a wider scale than this produces. A blast from this energy rifle is going to be too focused. We need to kill the vector in numbers of thousands, not one at a time.”
Downey nodded, “Hold on a second and watch this...” He turned the activation switch on and made some adjustments. A stream of green fire erupted in an arch from the muzzle; it traveled almost 100 feet before igniting a stack of wooden pallets. Flames shot skyward.
“Damn,” Rourke said. “What was that?”
Downy said, “Standard energy rifle but I made a module that is a frequency modulator. You know the standard energy weapon sends an individual bolt of high energy down range. That bolt of high energy is comprised of modulated plasma, modulated and set at very high range. That setting is necessary for down range accuracy, almost at a pin point level. That was what was so time consuming in the original design; how it functioned. Originally, all the designers could get is exactly what we’re trying to make happen now.”
“We knew that wouldn’t work for your application. Fortunately, we were able to just go back and reengineer the ‘problem’ the original designers had to overcome. In the beginning, they struggled with how to increase the ‘flow’ of energy to a ‘usable projectile’ of energy. Understand?”
Rourke nodded, “You’re saying they started with a flow and improved it to a pulse?”
Downy thought for a minute t
hen said, “Exactly, they had the reverse of what you wanted. With this frequency modulator, I have reduced those individual bolts of high energy back to a stream of lower energy plasma; lower energy but higher temperature. That means instead of single bolts of high energy, the weapons is capable of generating a continuous stream of energy of high temperature plasma. You don’t have the long range accuracy or the impact devastation, but you have blistering heat, approaching 2,000 degrees that can be sprayed like a stream of water.”
“Won’t that melt the barrel pretty quickly?” Rourke asked.
“Watch again,” Downey said as he aimed and pulled the trigger.
“Got it,” Rourke nodded. “The fire doesn’t start until the steam has already left the barrel.”
“Exactly,” Downey said as he safed the weapon. “Two, two and a half feet after it leaves the barrel. The weapon and the operator are not exposed to the high temperature. Additionally, this is a quick fix. Rather than create a new weapon, which would take weeks for that many units, we just modify this one and the modifications only take about an hour per weapon.”
“Do you have all the parts? I mean how long would it take to have twenty to thirty ready to go?”
“Yes, we do,” Ferguson said, “and we can have you thirty functional in... two days, if we go around the clock. Then it is only a question of making more out of something that already exists.”
Rourke nodded, “Daniel, make it happen. You’re sure there’s no danger for the operator?”
“No more so than normal and this is a proven design with proven technology. All we’re really doing...” He paused, coming up with the proper analogy. “We’re not changing ammo so to speak, just how it functions.”
“How about the capacity, how long will one weapon function if it starts out fully charged?”
Downy thought, “On continuous stream, probably fifteen minutes. If the operator uses short, controlled streams—double that. Plus, the same energy pack currently in use to power the energy rifle is used to reload; that just takes a few seconds and you’re back at full charge, ready to start over again. The good news is we don’t have to waste time on research and development. I mean, we don’t have to fabricate or recreate a weapon that none of us are familiar with or have any experience with. This design also eliminates the bulky and heavy fuel backpack completely, plus the nozzle and igniter contraption from your design. It only increases the normal weight of the weapon by about one and a half ounces. Plus, it will eliminate the time involved in training people to safely operate your design. If you can spray a water hose, you can operate this weapon. Lastly, all we have to do is remove the modulator and the weapon returns to its normal functioning. That can be done in the field by the operator, without any special tools and only about ten minutes of training.”
Chapter Forty-One
Akiro Kuriname’s successful “transition” had opened the possibilities for the clones, during the tunnel sweep, to salvage their lives. If Kuriname could be saved, logic said that maybe the others could be as well. The attempt was made. Those housed at the Ambrose Federal Detention Center had been hit with oneirogenic general anesthetic, the formal name for sleeping gas; it was pumped into the cell blocks, rendering them unconscious. Once the atmosphere had been purged, the unconscious prisoners had been transferred to the main gymnasium area where four “operating tents” stood; within each was a surgery team that worked in relays.
The removal of all of the alien tattoos took less than three hours. Once removed each tissue sample had been placed in stasis for later study and analysis. Now, three weeks later, Dr. David Blackman, Chief of Psychological Research at Mid-Wake and Dr. Henry Drake, Chief of Medicine at Tripler, were ready to enter the second phase of the prisoners “reconditioning.” “Luckily, Rourke’s theory proved to be correct,” Blackman said. “Our assumption is that when Akiro Kuriname was knocked unconscious, the link between he and the aliens was temporally broken; and, since the tattoo was removed prior to his regaining consciousness, it has been severed completely.”
Drake nodded, “David, we still are not sure how the tattoo linkage works. The best we can come up with right now is there is some method of biochemical interaction with... I don’t know. The closest analogy would be something like nanotechnology present in the tissues. Frankly, we haven’t seen anything like this before; I just can’t explain how it works.”
“That is something,” Blackman said, taking a sip of hot green tea. Blackman’s favorite tea was a Moroccan Mint loose leaf blend. The mixture of traditional Marrakech Gunpowder tea, peppermint, and spearmint gave a smooth flavor. The Green Gunpowder base was subtly sweet without the normal bite of the mint. Properly prepared—brewed at 180 degrees Fahrenheit and steeped for three minutes, then re-steeped twice more—it was a relaxing beverage that he thought was equally delicious when iced. It was his single passion, almost a vice.
“That is something we will simply have to continue researching. It is relevant certainly, but the important issue is we have been able to break that linkage. Psychologically, these men are ‘rescued.’ Henry, I’m ready to proceed. Is there any reason, any medical reason, you see for further delays?”
Drake shook his head, he drank a simple but strong cup of coffee; black. “No, the syn-skin grafts have all healed. Medically, they are healthy. I am, however, still concerned by how well they have rehabilitated emotionally. I have concern about using these men as Guinea pigs.”
“I know Henry,” Blackman said, nodding. “But as Rourke stated, if we had not been successful they would have spent the rest of their lives as prisoners. We wouldn’t have had a choice; now these men can at least see the light of day as free citizens. I say it’s time to move forward.”
“Then let’s bring in Mr. Kuriname and get started.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The main gymnasium area of the Ambrose Federal Detention Center was quiet, deafeningly so. Thirty-four men wearing white hospital scrubs sat on metal folding chairs, unmoving and facing the speaker’s podium. Chairs were set up between two large white boards and several flip charts along the north wall. Along the south wall, Wes Sanderson’s men sat at the position of attention. A door opened behind them and the clip clop of heels striking the concrete floor echoed through the room, yet not one turned to see who was approaching.
Akiro Kuriname walked around the group, followed by Doctors Blackman and Drake, John Thomas Rourke and Wes Sanderson. They joined newly appointed Brigadier General Rodney Thorne and General Sullivan on stage. Kuriname went to the podium as the others took their seats behind him. He laid a manila folder on the speaker’s stand, opened it, cleared his throat and raised his eyes to look at the men.
“Good morning,” Kuriname said with a slight bow. “I’m going to make this a short presentation today. I have been authorized to make you an offer. I have had the opportunity to discuss the potentiality of this offer with several of you; those I have talked to have understood the significance of the offer and now it is time for a decision to be made. I, like you, have been violated—physically, emotionally and... yes, if I may say so... spiritually. The people we are... and we are truly people, are a reflection of our ‘originals’ or parents, if you will.”
“Like you, I am still trying to define...” He stopped for a moment and scanned the faces. “To define, what I am. Most important to that process has been to define the ‘who’ I wish to be. The shock of realization has now been replaced with a sense of purpose and to a degree, a sense of anger and need for justice. Before, in that world that existed so long ago, people were chosen for an incredible mission. A mission, it was hoped, could salvage mankind from its own stupidity. Our Parents, it is said, ‘were the best, the brightest and bravest’ America could find. Rather, I would say, they were simply ‘the chosen’ who America sent.”
Dr. Blackman stirred a little in his seat but said nothing. “America chose them for that mission; circumstances have chosen us for another,” Kuriname said. “I will now introduc
e my friend, in fact, the man who saved me, Doctor General John Rourke. I would like to add he is responsible for saving each of you from the life we were created for. John,” he said and turned the meeting over to Rourke.
Rourke stood and went to one of the white boards as Akiro took his seat. “As far back into history as you want to go, specialized units operating as ‘guerrillas’ were able to accomplish what larger armies could not. They operated behind the lines, in secret and in constant danger. They were silent heroes of the highest order. You have the opportunity to be part of such a unit. Based on your ‘unique’ status, you possess all that remains of training and experiences gained by your fathers during their training for the Eden Project. That knowledge will be essential for this project. Anyone interested? If so, please stand.”
The scraping of thirty-four metal chairs sliding on the concrete floor sounded as one as thirty-four men stood silently at the position of attention. “Good, it is time for some pay back,” Rourke said. “Each of you constitutes a life yet to be lived. You have a blank slate to work with. Whereas you had zero control a few weeks ago, you are in absolute control of your futures. That said, it will be up to you to define that life. By conventional standards, you don’t exist; but you do. You are unencumbered by families or past performance.”
“By society’s standards, you might as well be dead. Your parents, as Akiro calls them, each had to leave a life for their mission. Lives, families, careers... all of that; you on the other hand have the chance to create those things. Your mission is to bring those qualities and abilities your parents had to the foreground; and in doing that you will become the best, the brightest, and bravest America could find this go around. Instead of being chosen, you are choosing; it is a subtle but significant difference.”
