Rise of the Liberators (Terrafide Book 1)

by Ryan Hyatt

  Phoenix supposedly was founded on a Native American agricultural community that supported approximately 300,000 people in its heyday hundreds of years ago. These Native Americans grew crops on fields irrigated by the Salt River, from which water once flowed freely. While little remained of this community when pioneers started to settle the Valley in the late nineteenth century, scientists have determined that 300,000 was in fact the maximum population that resources in the area could naturally sustain. With the Phoenix population swelling to over three million by the year 2000 – ten times more than the region could easily support – water was being delivered by aqueducts and big rig trucks, and the city was proving itself to be anything but sustainable.

  Ray remembered as a child taking trips around the Valley to visit relatives. At that time, so much of the land he passed was open fields. Then, the real estate boom came at the end of the twentieth century. Phoenix’s metro population ballooned, providing housing and jobs for millions more people than scientists advised. Eventually the balloon popped, and in Ray’s lifetime he had seen the rise of a great, vast oasis vanish like a mirage.

  The water that nurtured the economic growth and influx of people also came from the Colorado River, which Arizona shared with several western states. In addition, a geological layer below Phoenix, called an aquifer, once held huge amounts of groundwater.

  Experts used to claim there was enough water in the aquifer for the Phoenix metropolitan region to prosper for 100 years. Unfortunately, such claims were misguided, and by 2020, geologists confirmed after a comprehensive survey that the groundwater supply was being consumed much faster than it was being replenished. At such an astonishing rate the resource that was supposed to last a century was on track to trickle in decades. The cost of water skyrocketed in Phoenix, and drastic conservation measures were put into place.

  Ray missed the long showers he used to take before the water crackdown, usually with his wife, tender moments that felt part of another life.

  He scrubbed, rinsed, and stepped onto the faux-fur floor mat when the alarm rang, two minutes exactly. He brushed his teeth and donned his old formal military uniform for the first time since his discharge. Barely, miraculously, it still fit. He sipped the cold coffee his wife prepared for him, ate a bowl of cereal, and put on a puppet show for Sara while he waited for his ride.

  The Colonel wasn’t kidding. A chauffeur knocked on the door a few minutes later wearing a black suit, leading Ray to a Cadillac limousine.

  Ray took a backseat. The limo was headed east on the freeway when he asked the driver, “Where are we going?”

  “The old Indigenous plant,” the chauffeur said, and a video turned on that provided an overview about Ray’s prospective employer.

  Indigenous Aeronautics designed the Geronimo helicopter Ray used to fly in battle and for years was a company that dominated the commercial airline industry, facts with which Ray was already familiar. However, due to a decline in sales, Indigenous was bought out in 2020 by Rocket & Gamble, a corporate conglomerate whose diverse holdings included military contractors and entertainment enterprises, according to the video.

  “The aim of the acquisition was to revitalize America’s aerospace industry,” said the narrator, whose feathery white hair, long nose and beady dark eyes Ray realized made him resemble a bald eagle, the national bird that was no longer endangered. “The mission of Rocket & Gamble is to make human life better, one technological breakthrough at a time.”

  Part of Indigenous’ business failings had to do with discontinued military projects related to the federal government’s ongoing solvency issues, the narrator explained, which led to fewer domestic sales. The demise of the Geronimo helicopter was one such example. However, the company’s most devastating fiscal impact occurred abroad, related to its foreign sales. China, once the largest purchaser of commercial aircraft, was accused of stripping the planes it acquired from Indigenous, stealing the company’s technology, and then spending considerable resources to improve it.

  Such piracy in aerospace and other industries helped China’s economy flourish. Even so, no corporation or nation since the beginning of the Greatest Depression successfully managed to extort a confession or compensation from China for its many suspected patent violations, including Indigenous Aeronautics and the United States.

  “The ongoing effects of these piracy issues continue to be rampant and detrimental to the hegemony and stability of the West,” said the narrator. “Our enemies are illegally using our own technologies and strategies against us.”

  Ray realized the narrator’s comments echoed a narrative popularized by major news outlets at the time, a depiction of Uncle Sam’s gifts to the world’s nations being squandered and undermined by misbehaving entities like China and Russia, who abandoned the rules of international law and refused to play fairly.

  “Using the resources gained from America’s considerable blood, sweat and paid debt, the Chinese created their own nationalized airline industry over the past several years, which is now globally competitive with the United States’, to the extent that by 2030, experts believe Aero China will surpass American aircraft sales and end our supremacy over the world’s aviation market … unless Rocket & Gamble manages to stop the rising Red tide, which is exactly what we intend to do,” said the narrator with a wink.

  Moving along, the limo passed countless subdivisions littered with empty stucco houses with their signature for-sale signs. Where did all those people go, Ray wondered? It was said many people were crammed into homes occupied by relatives that hadn’t yet been foreclosed, or they moved to the region’s outskirts, towns like Apache Junction or Green River, where trailer parks always had been plentiful and continued to remain affordable. By appearances alone, it seemed to Ray on that sweltering Monday morning, the vibrant city of his youth had transformed into a shoddy ghost town. As far as what might be waiting for Ray at the old Indigenous plant, besides outdated and abandoned aircraft, was beyond him.

  Ray smirked at his reflection through the limo’s passenger window. On the bright side, he thought, if the city’s population did continue to decline, it might cause water prices to drop low enough – while keeping sufficient supply – for him and his wife to enjoy the occasional long and sensual shower together again, just like they used to do, back in the good old days.

  As the limo entered the old Indigenous plant property, Ray marveled at the sign for Rocket & Gamble, the new parent company. The logo consisted of a rocket bursting forth from a pair of playing dice, but the phallic allusion wasn’t lost on Ray. He clearly saw an erect penis and two dangling testicles. The logo also reminded Ray of a raised middle finger, or birdie, the international symbol for fuck you.

  Obviously, Ray admitted to himself with an uncertain grin, Rocket & Gamble meant serious business.

  A guard waved the Cadillac through the front gate, and Ray noticed that, far from being abandoned, those running the Indigenous plant in East Mesa strove to keep its bustling operations concealed but intact. They rode forward one hundred yards then dipped into a below-ground parking area filled with employee cars.

  The chauffeur stopped at an elevator where a guard stood.

  “This man will get you to where you need to go,” the chauffeur said.

  “Thanks,” Ray said, exiting.

  The guard frisked Ray and scanned his body with a rectangular device. It sounded off at Ray’s chest.

  “It’s just his medals,” the guard said into his collar as he looked at a surveillance camera on the wall. Then to Ray he motioned and said, “You’re clear, sir.”

  The elevator door opened.

  Ray found himself in an underground facility that resembled a Cold War-era bunker. After traveling along many concrete corridors, he was directed into a sterile, white-walled room where perhaps unpleasant interrogations once might have taken place, but now was the location for his job interview.

  Ray saluted the Colonel, who responded with a smile.

  “At
ease,” he said. “Shall we?”

  The Colonel directed them to a table. Ray noticed a floor-to-ceiling mirror situated behind his host from which he assumed others watched.

  The Colonel cut to the chase.

  “The fact is, Ray, your test scores and record of service are exemplary,” he said. “You’re more capable than ninety-nine percent of the population, you just need an opportunity to succeed. You have the mind and skill of the military’s best pilots and leaders. In all of your hard work, you never let down the Marines. We’re sorry we had to let you go, but we want you back, this time for as long as you’ll take us.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Ray said, wary of the Colonel’s accolades. If his experience with the military taught him anything, it’s that he was perfectly expendable. His instincts sensed an ambush.

  “A new program, one that might save this country, and your future.”

  Ray tried not to roll his eyes. More than anything, he wanted to save his country and his future, but what he didn’t want was to be sucked into some bureaucratic lost cause based mostly in patriotic lip service. With its struggle to win the Oil Wars, the military had become fond of such platitudes in recent years.

  “With all due respect, sir, there’s no need to oversell your game,” Ray said. “As far as I can tell, this country is done for, and I suspect I am, too.”

  “Hell, and they told me you were an optimist!” the Colonel said with a snort. “I like a man who’s willing to speak his mind. Tell me more.”

  “I think I’ve already said enough.”

  The Colonel stared at Ray. Then he reached over, tapped the mirror and spoke to whoever was behind it.

  “I’m not wasting any more time,” he said. “I want him, you want him, so come out and get him.”

  Ray leaned back, more relaxed. He appreciated the Colonel’s forward approach. Either this meeting really was a joke, as Ray still secretly suspected, or the Colonel was a man with a clear enough vision Ray could follow into battle.

  Two men entered the room, civilians, one in a bright blue business suit, the other in a red polo shirt and khakis. The first was an executive, the second a manager or engineer of some sort, Ray guessed. They were white-haired, blotchy-skinned senior citizens. One of them even had a cane. Like many higher-ups who still had jobs, they seemed too old to be working, at least effectively, probably making up funds lost in the market crash, scraping away for a retirement that might never come. Their awkward arrival gave Ray the impression the meeting was a joke on him after all.

  “I’m David Felix, with Rocket & Gamble,” said the executive to Ray, surprisingly clearly and eloquently, without a hint of his elderly age. He pointed his cane at his colleague. “This is Stephen Humphrey, most known for his designs on military helicopters, but I’m willing to wager he’ll be better known to history for developing the Liberator. This is our new aerial combat system with similar guidance systems as the Geronimo helicopter … but with a few significant upgrades.”

  Humphrey held up both of his arms defensively, as if trying to prevent someone from misspeaking about his favorite grandchild.

  “Enough!” he said, interrupting Felix. “Don’t spoil it, David. Let me explain. Mr. Salvatore, did you like flying the Geronimo?”

  “Absolutely,” Ray said. “It was power and grace at my fingertips.”

  “Then you’ll love the Liberator,” Humphrey said. “It’s the greatest conventional vehicular weapon the world’s ever seen. There is nothing like it. Trust me. These guys dragged me out of retirement just to make it. If I weren’t so excited about it myself, I’d still be playing golf and drinking margaritas.”

  Ray suspected there were other reasons Humphrey was dragged out of retirement, namely because he couldn’t afford it.

  “I appreciate your passion for your work,” Ray said, “but what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “We want you to test the Liberator for us,” Humphrey said, clasping his hands and rubbing them together enthusiastically. “You know, help us work out any kinks it might have.”

  Ray turned to the Colonel and said, “Is that all? Surely Rocket & Gamble can afford its own test pilots. Why do you need me?”

  “The military can’t afford to move forward with this program without a guy like you inside the cockpit,” the Colonel said. “Once the Liberator is combat ready, the Marines would like you to lead a small group of them into battle. If that goes well, we’d like you to train a new generation of recruits to operate Liberators, which we believe will be the future of warfare. Ray, we’re talking full reinstatement here, a lifetime of job security, a new start for you and your family.”

  Maybe this meeting wasn’t a joke after all, Ray thought.

  “Where is it?” Ray said.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask,” said the Colonel with a grin, and he opened the door and led them down a long, winding corridor.

  They arrived at the bottom of a nuclear silo. Once inside, Ray was appalled at what he saw. He listened spellbound as the Colonel discussed the highlights of Rocket & Gamble’s new tech monstrosity.

  The first generation Liberator was a heavily-armored humanoid machine standing 300 feet tall and weighing thirty tons. A shielded cockpit head, crowned with antennae and horns, protruded from the top, attached to a torso made of saginium sheets, integrated with wire mesh and jessinium overlay, all of which protected a condensed nuclear fuel cell at the heart of the beast. The Liberator’s bulging shoulders and arms bristled with sensors and weapon repositories, missile launchers and heavy-caliber guns, leading to hands attached to long, precise robotic fingers, each one of which could crush a car. An advanced hydraulic system supported the machine’s massive legs, wrapped in a polymer-coated tank tread, with huge talon-like feet.

  As they walked around and scoped the rear of the Liberator, Ray noticed it had two impressive rocket engines resting on its back, which together resembled a jet pack, with wings fanning tightly over them, giving the impression that the machine, at least for the moment, was some giant grounded bird at rest.

  The Liberator was magnificent, bewildering and frightening at the same time, partly because Ray couldn’t imagine how it functioned.

  “Does it walk, drive or fly?” Ray said.

  “All three,” Felix said.

  According to the Colonel, the military wanted Liberator to become the frontline fighting force for American military missions in global hotspots. It was hoped that doing so would help minimize the vast resources, both human and financial, lost in the Oil Wars, in which thousands of American lives and trillions of dollars already had been spent, with more blood and treasure expected to spill in the indefinite future.

  The Colonel slapped one of the claw-like toes on Liberator’s right foot – the size of a truck – and said, “This bad boy has more firepower than several mechanized battalions, we’re talking real bang for the buck! Once the Liberators are deployed on enemy soil, the United States will have the strategic foothold it needs to extract precious resources vital to our national interests. At the same time, we’ll increase morale at home by saving countless American lives and tax dollars, softening the impact of these unpopular conflicts, however how long they last. Think about it, Ray. America finally will have the edge needed to restore its standing on the world stage, a status this great country hasn’t enjoyed since the end of World War II. We’ll be the planet’s hero once again.”

  The Colonel failed to mention that Liberator’s deployment would also make it a coveted prize, Ray thought. He knew from his own experience that helicopter pilots in combat had a high mortality rate. What safeguards against death would a Liberator have on the battlefield, in which Ray assumed the enemy would have to focus all its energy to destroy, just to save itself?

  Ray might as well be signing up for suicide, he thought, with a bull’s eye painted on his back. Either the Colonel’s job opportunity would solve all of his problems, or start a new slew of them for him and his fam
ily.

  “Any questions?’ the Colonel said.

  Ray had plenty, but on the forefront of his mind was his daughter. What would be best for her, he thought? He didn’t know.

  “What are you offering?” he said.

  “For three months, you’ll work as an independent contractor for Rocket & Gamble getting yourself, your Liberator and your team that I hand-selected ready for battle,” the Colonel said. “After that, you’ll be reinstated as a Marine with a higher pay grade than you had at your discharge. Technically speaking, you’ll be a lieutenant colonel, answering to me, but I’m sure you’ll prefer to keep going by captain, easier for everyone. You’ll receive the equivalent of three years’ back pay at your new rate – consider it a sign-on bonus – and you’ll be entitled to all of the benefits you previously counted on working for America’s armed forces.”

  “Sounds great,” Ray said. “What’s the catch?”

  “You just have to live long enough to enjoy it,” the Colonel said, checking Ray’s response. “After your mission, you are home free, and you’ll have a desk job waiting for you as long as you want it. In less than one year from now you should be back here, safe and sound, living on easy street for the rest of your days. I’ve been authorized to promise you that upon successful completion of your mission, you’ll never again be asked to put yourself in harm’s way for your country.”

  The Colonel paused and said, “Well, what do you think?”

  Ray smiled with a kind of sincere joy usually only his daughter was capable of making him feel. What the Colonel presented was not only a chance to catch up on the mortgage and bills, but pay off the credit cards, buy his wife a much-needed new car, hell, even use the air conditioner once in a while. There would be money for new shoes, gymnastics for Sara, family vacations. It was the chance for a new life – a substantially richer and better life, and Ray was all but sold.