Is that enough? He wondered. Can I kill these people, these Sunarr for what they had planned? It may have been a misunderstanding; I might have gotten it wrong. But, but they have imprisoned people haven't they? The politicians were under virtual house arrest. And then there are the mines, convicts have rights too, don't they? In truth, the Sunarr had done nothing directly or indirectly against him and he knew it. Three minutes out.
It came from nowhere. The burst of fire sprayed across their path, piercing the skin of the plane. The mission controller screamed out in pain. The pilot put the plane into a steep dive, turning to starboard as he did so. John held on tight to the fixed desk he was seated at. His face was wet and he didn't know why. The plane levelled off and he wiped his face with his hand. He glanced at his hand as he went to grip the desk again. It was covered in blood. He knew instinctively it was not his. He looked around and saw the mission controller lying on the floor. Her shoulder was a mess, she had obviously been hit, she was losing a lot of blood, the radar operator was doing his best to stem her blood loss. Must have hit the carotid artery, John thought, hence the spray. There was bone jutting out from the flesh he noticed, and then he noticed something else. The mission controller had a lump in her abdomen. Not much, he hadn't noticed it before, but now she was lying down it was more pronounced for some reason. He had no doubt the mission controller was pregnant.
I didn't ask to be here, John thought to himself. No one asked you to come here either, but here you are, threatening this world, stealing our resources and now you have shot a mother with child! John's rage grew inside him, he didn't know this woman, had not met her before today. However, he had always had a secret desire, beyond dreams of wealth and Nobel prizes. He wanted to be a father, to have a son or daughter to call his own. To nurture and cherish and occasionally spoil. Now as he looked down at this woman he saw the fragility of the human existence, of a life once full of promise now hanging perilously in the balance. The mother was a serving officer who knew the risks, but her child… Her child knew nothing of this life yet; it had made no choices because life for it had not yet fully begun. The child is innocent, the Sunarr are not.
'Bring us around on a firing run!' John yelled to the pilot. He didn't know if this was correct terminology or not and frankly didn't care.
The pilot pulled on the control and the plane came round, its course firmed up putting it at ninety degrees to the Sunarr survey ship and at an approach angle of thirty degrees negative from the lateral. The Sunarr ship opened fire again, but this time the pilot was ready for it and manoeuvred accordingly, all the time keeping his general approach. John set the control for three-second bursts, not wishing to push it now that the pilot had to worry about incoming fire. He watched the screen intently, the earpiece trilling in his ear, informing him that it had not yet established a lock. Then the tone went continuous and he squeezed the trigger, just as the pilot had to manoeuvre. He watched as the stream of shells missed the survey ship, but made contact with one of the scout vessels. It was quite a sight. The shells passed straight through the scout ship, like bullets through a cardboard box. The ship was cut in two. The close-up video display showed the ship breaking apart and he could even see the Sunarr soldiers falling out, thousands of feet above Greenland.
The survey ship opened fire again, forcing Phoenix to veer off course and make for the ground to gain the speed it needed to manoeuvre. The pilot swung the plane around, putting it back on course. The last of the scout ships was aboard now and John could see that it was making to leave the atmosphere. He pulled off a burst, missing completely. Another, this time a hit, but the ship carried on. He aimed and got another hit, full on for the whole three seconds this time. The ship faltered then regained its exit trajectory. The pilot pushed the engines, trying to close the gap, but the gap was widening as the Sunarr ship gathered speed. John fired again, hitting it square. It faltered slightly, then recovered. John screamed out to the pilot.
'Hold on I'm going for a long burst!'
'How long!' The pilot screamed back.
'Long! Three, Two One, Fire!’
The control was set at nine seconds as John's index fingered closed on the trigger. The first shell arrived just under twenty-four millionths of a second later. Its brief but intensive journey through the dense earth atmosphere had heated it beyond the melting point of normal materials, the Buckyballs held it together though, but it burned the air as it passed through, leaving a streak of fire in its wake. Weighing about a kilo but travelling at one quarter the speed of light it impacted with the rear of the Sunarr ship. The impact force was equivalent to a one thousand tonne train travelling at one hundred and sixty miles per hour. It never touched the skin of the ship, impacting instead with the Deeth particles that the ship's skin formed around it. It did however cause a drain on the local power grid for that section. It only lasted a fraction of a second, barely two one thousands of a second. However, the second shell arrived less than one point seven thousands of a second later. This caused a further, deeper power drain in the area that was hit. It was hit by another and another and another. Forty two thousand shells in seven seconds. All in the same area. It was too much for the skin to withstand and it gave way, the last eighty or so shells exploding inside. The remaining two seconds of the attack, and the twelve thousand additional shells, just added to the carnage. The ship exploded over Greenland, dropping like a stone from the stratosphere.
John sat back in his chair. Now he could hear someone screaming. He looked at the mission controller, no it’s not her. The voice was shouting loudly and swearing. A lot. Ah, it’s the pilot, John said to himself suddenly realising where it was coming from. Something about a major stall and we are going to crash. John relaxed. He had achieved his mission and dying in a plane crash, well that would be unfortunate, but it wasn't his responsibility. Figuring he had only moments to live he ignored the no smoking sign and lit up.
21:34 10 November [21:34 10 November GMT]
Unity Command HQ, Berkshire Downs, West Berkshire, England.
The information was being relayed live back to both US and UK Unity headquarters through the Doran communications system. The room erupted into cheers as the Sunarr ship exploded. Then came the loss of the signal from Phoenix. It had gone down over Greenland as well. The troops were on their way, but the first were still an hour away.
18:40 10 November [21:40 10 November GMT]
Phoenix Crash Site, 200 Km North of Ammassalik, Eastern Greenland.
John opened his eyes. He still couldn't see anything. His head felt like it had a screwdriver driven through it. He tried moving, but his body wouldn't respond as it normally did so he didn't push it. He tried wiggling his toes, that worked. Then his fingers, they also worked. So I should be able to move, he reasoned. He tried moving his head, the pain was constant but it didn't increase so he moved it some more. Shapes started to appear, he had been facing the floor, and what little light there was in the cabin hadn't wanted to venture down that far. He pushed himself up onto his hands. Now to accompany the sharp pain, he was experiencing a throbbing ache. He looked around the cabin. The mission controller was lying on the floor not moving. He pulled himself to his feet, wobbling slightly, and moved over to check her pulse. He could feel it, but it was weak and she had obviously lost a lot of blood. He moved forward, noting sadly that the station at which the communications officer had been seated at was missing, along with a fair chunk of the fuselage. He forced the door to the cockpit. The co-pilot was also dead. He didn't have to check for a pulse, the lack of a head was enough of an indication as to his welfare. The pilot however was in one piece, he checked his pulse. It was strong and stable, the pilot was simply unconscious. John decided it was best to leave him where he was for the moment. He headed back to the mission controller. He checked her pulse again, thankfully, she still had one. He unbuttoned her blouse and reached inside. He found her dog tag and looked at, AB negative, that means she can take my B positive blood.
There was a medical kit on the fuselage wall, he pulled it down and opened it. He was glad to see it was well stocked and had what he wanted inside. He pulled out two needle tips and the pack of plastic hose. He clamped one end of the hose and placed one of the needles into the Radial Artery in his left forearm. He ran the blood through the hose to fill it and then clamped it off again, attaching the needle to it, he released the pressure to remove the air from the needle. A fine spray came out of the end before he clamped it. John inserted the other needle into the Median Antebranchial Vein in her right arm. I hope I've got this right, he thought as he released the clamp.
19:53 10 November [22:53 10 November GMT]
Phoenix Crash Site, 200 Km North of Ammassalik, Eastern Greenland.
'Colonel Tyler Moore of the 3rd US Unity Airborne' Colonel Moore said to John, 'just relax and let this medic see to you.'
'The mission controller?...she's...she's pregnant’ John managed to say.
'The mission controller is doing just fine, so is her baby, thanks to your efforts. She's probably in better shape than you right now.' Tyler said as reassuringly as he could.
There were two medics working, one on each patient. The first had stemmed the flow of blood from the mission controllers wound and the other had given John three units of plasma to make up for the blood he had lost through donation. It had been a remarkably close call. John had passed out during the transfusion, whether from the blow to his head or from loss of blood the medic couldn't tell. He had done enough to keep the both the mother and child alive, that much he knew, but in the process he had come perilously close to losing his own life. The medic couldn't decide whether John had been heroic or stupid, probably a bit of both, he decided.
Colonel Moore had no such doubts. Any man who would give his own life's blood to save another, especially a mother and child, was a hero in his mind. That it was a civilian giving to a serving officer made it all the more special. His men were all over the Phoenix and the surrounding area whilst the 9th UK Unity Combined were about a hundred and twenty kilometres away, securing the crash site of the Sunarr vessel. Tyler really wanted to be over there, but they had come across the downed friendly aircraft first and had to respond.
20:07 10 November [23:07 10 November GMT]
Sunarr Crash Site, 160 Km North-East of Ammassalik, Greenland.
They were all dead. Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Jackson noted this with a mixture of relief and frustration. The relief was that his men were safe from any attack and his frustration was founded on the fact that the war, if that was what this had been, was apparently already over and he and his men hadn't fired a shot in anger. The attack from the Phoenix's Gatling gun had not only cut the ship in two, but also had sliced straight through the engine of the ship. It had obviously lost all function and the two parts had fallen, in a ballistic arc, down to the hard, frozen land below. Edward looked around the crash site; the impact had been terminal, that much was certain. The Sunarr bodies, in common with human ones were mostly composed of water. Like the soft tissue of a tomato, the skin cannot contain it in a violent collision. There were pieces of Sunarr flesh all over the area. He had to be careful were he walked.
He had his men pick through the sight looking for survivors, he knew it was a futile exercise but one that had to be carried out in any case. He had been given three primary orders, firstly neutralise the enemy, which he considered was done. Secondly secure the alien craft for investigation, apparently a specialist team was being put together to undertake this task. Thirdly, secure and recover the gold. He had an audit team with him from HQ. It was their responsibility to tag, weigh, and log each gold item as it was found and then loaded on to a transport helicopter. They had colleagues back at the base to receive each shipment, and they had hand scanners to ensure that no soldier took home a souvenir.
Epilogue Constellation II
13:00 12 November [18:00 12 November GMT]
United Nations, New York, USA
Saeb Tibi sat in his wheelchair before the entire assembly of the United Nations. His hands were shaking, holding the most important and precious document he had ever held. They shook from the nervousness he felt addressing such an august body and from the nervousness he felt at the weight of the subject matter upon which he was due to speak. They also shook from anger. Anger at the memory of who had once held the pages in his hands, who had written from the heart upon those pages. Anger at the losses, the unnecessary losses, he had suffered throughout his life. The irony that it was the loss of a former enemy, a Jew at that, which had brought him to this most significant point in his life, was not lost on him. He smiled at the thought of his friend, Benjamin Yogev, now dead, laughing at him. That he had to give what effectively would be a eulogy for him would have appealed to his sense of humour. A particular sense of humour that they had shared. He looked up at the audience and at the cameras that were beaming his image live across the world. He cleared his throat to indicate he was ready to speak. The polite applause died down.
'My name is Saeb Tibi and I am a Palestinian Arab. First, let me thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak to you all today. As you probably already know I was in the Sunarr forced labour camp at La Guitarra, along with Benjamin Yogev, an Israeli Jew. What you probably do not know is how we came to be in that camp. Benjamin and I had been meeting secretly to negotiate a settlement between our peoples. I can tell you that neither of us believed it would work and in any event, neither of us wanted it to work. We were both entrenched in our prejudices and the injustices we had suffered at the hands of the other. At our last meeting, we were arrested by mistake, the Mexican police believing us to be drug dealers. We were imprisoned awaiting trial and whilst in prison we started to talk. We had nothing better to do so we continued the negotiations. I think for both of us that it was a way of avoiding the harsh realities of our situation. Sometime after the Sunarr arrived, they took over the mining at La Guitarra, many of the men in the prison were taken there, us included. We continued to talk, to negotiate, and to plan our escape to freedom as well. In the fight for our freedom, Benjamin Yogev valiantly and courageously gave his life to free us all. Before the fight, we agreed that the diaries, which we had both been keeping, should be in the safekeeping of the other. I received his diary after his death and I have here two documents, which he wanted me to read to you. The first is his final entry and the second, well, that will become apparent.' Saeb started to read from the papers in his hand.
'If my words are being read now it means that I am dead. This I do not mind. It is God's will. However, I hope and pray that this is being read by Saeb Tibi, my closest and dearest friend. Yes, you heard me right; Saeb Tibi is my friend, more than that really, he is like a brother to me. It was not always like this I can tell you. The first time I ever laid my eyes on Saeb it was with a burning hatred in my heart. I know now he felt the same. I have spent most of my life protecting Israel at the cost of Palestinians. I know now also that Saeb has done the same for his people. Truly, there has never been two men more alike, the things we have done, in the name of Religion, in the “protection” of our people, because we thought we were right. I hope that God can forgive me.
Our false arrest gave us something else in common, something we shared and experienced together. However it has been our time here, in this forced labour camp that we have truly come to understand one another. It is strange indeed that I have the Sunarr, our mutual oppressor, to thank for bringing us so close together. It was the Sunarr who also, indirectly, gave me the keystone on the bridge to peace, for most of the rest I have my friend Saeb to thank. Please now let me tell you of it.
For thousands of years my home, that small piece of land between the Mediterranean and Dead seas has been fought over. Blood has been spilt by many different peoples, most of it in the name of one religion or another. The conflict between my people and Saeb's has been long and bloody. We have both suffered greatly. However, the two of us, and indeed the entire world, has now know
n what it is like under the boot of the oppressor. It is time for our two peoples to know peace and I believe that there is a way forward. There have been various attempts in the past and most of these have revolved around the concept of a two state strategy. A state of Israel and a Palestinian state.
I propose however that this is fundamentally floored as it always involves arguments over the disputed territories, particularly Jerusalem itself. Instead, I propose a three state solution, one for Israel, one for Palestine and one independent of both. The keystone to this is the Japanese. I would like to invite the Japanese to run and control the Independent state.
The independent state would comprise of Jerusalem and the disputed territories. Jerusalem would be the capital of all three states and as such would provide all the privileges and duties on the three states that would ensue. Each state would have a single vote in all cross state issues. This would mean that the Japanese, who have no interest or history in the region and have no bias against or towards either state or religion, would have the casting vote in all matters. The Japanese would provide security, both within the Independent state and on the borders between the three states. The official interstate language would be Japanese and all interstate negotiations and dealings would be written and conducted in Japanese. This will mean that all officials from both the Palestinian and the Israeli sides would have to learn to write and speak Japanese. Interpreters would not be allowed. The two sides would have to work and learn together to speak and understand each other. I believe that this would provide the right framework for the officials to start to build their own relationships free from the constraints of the past and their own prejudices. This is my greatest wish and possibly my last wish.'
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