by John Lilley
‘It’s quite normal to forget a lot of your early memories,’ said Jane in defence.
‘Who told you that, Central? Even now I remember my life with my parents at the base before the disaster. But unlike you guys, we actually experienced the calamity first hand with no sedation. I still remember those dead guys at the base, the candy from the store, the rocket attacks and shooting down that drone, just like it was yesterday. The memories from that type of trauma are usually impossible to forget.’ said Jake.
‘OK, OK, I think we’ve heard enough theories,’ said Dennis. ‘What we need from you Jake is more proof. We need to see the data on that old laptop.’
‘No problem,’ said Jake, ‘but we’ll have to go to Columbia to see it, I just can’t risk Central finding out I have it. I wouldn’t be able to switch it on anywhere near a dome or a hovercar in case he could hear it, or hack into it somehow,’ said Jake.
‘Wow, I’d no idea how deep your paranoia went with this,’ said Dennis. ‘OK, let’s take a ride down to Columbia next week.’
The Kids found the drive down to the coast entertaining. Jake took them through some of the abandoned settlements along the way. Upon arrival at the base, they soon had camp set up in Jake's usual spot. While the Kids cooked their supper, Jake retrieved the old laptop from the storeroom.
Their first lesson was the social history of the USA from the invasion of Iran to the Atlantic Armada. They were all immediately aware that it was a story that seemed quite different to the history they had been taught based on Central’s archived data. It was a period of massive change and great disruption. Jake used his experience of looking at social history records to highlight possible reporting bias and Government cover-ups. The news and history books were increasingly censored by the various government agencies. Then, after the Atlantic Armada, Central’s first major operation, they all noticed how the news became similar to the history they had been taught. Also, all of the serious national news reports from the few remaining rival news organisations were so similar, even their editorials. It seemed that someone was coordinating them, or that someone had changed the records.
‘The big questions really are: what would Central say or do if we said we wanted to go and see the Natives and if we did go up there would there be any Natives?’ said Harry.
‘As you have seen Central has so much bad blood with the Natives. I think he would take it very badly, but I’m not sure what he would do about it. Surely he wouldn't do a Neil and Bruce on all of you. Perhaps some form of further restrictions on our travel? I’ve no idea really, as I’ve said before I think he is severely depressed,’ said Jake.
The discussions continued for the next few days as they sifted through more of the archived data. From the old news articles the Natives did appear to be resilient to the Canadian annexation, so why would they not be able to resist the outlaws? Their overall conclusion was that the Natives were probably still there and they would probably be receptive to a visit. Too many unknowns for a super cautious person like Jake.
‘We have always known that hovercar flights are carefully monitored by Central, and we now know that their range is artificially limited. We would need to disable all those built-in links and limitations to get the job done in secret. It would take us years of research to be able to modify the cars like that, and I really don’t think we could do it without him noticing. We need to find some other way of getting to the forests,’ said Jake.
‘You mean by walking?’ suggested Harry.
‘Or on Gene’s pet camels?’ joked Jane.
‘Whatever we do it needs to be well thought through. As I said earlier, I’ve been on this case for a long time now, and I’ve not come up with anything viable. Central is just so pervasive, too powerful and unpredictable,’ said Jake.
‘So just what is in his arsenal today?’ asked Harry.
‘He can make just about anything he wants in a very short time. He has a network of sentinels, some of which did have some form of offensive capability; there is still one at that creek that Gene likes to go to. He also has some high-altitude spy drones, I once caught Brad watching one in the night sky,’ said Jake.
‘OK, I think we need to poke around on the base some more, we might find something that can help us,’ said Dennis.
After a further five days at the campsite, when they had all finished their evening meals, Dennis told them that he might have found a way to get to the forests:
‘It was in one of the old hangars on the far side of the base. It’s called an Osprey, it’s some sort of vertical take-off and landing plane. The hangar was barely touched by the tsunami.’
‘Even if you could get that ancient thing airborne, I’d think twice about getting in it,’ said Jane.
‘Me too,’ said Harry.
‘Well, it’s probably not as bad as you think. It looks like it had just been shipped to the base. The fuselage is all shrink-wrapped, and the engines are still in their crates. I found a full set of manuals for it in a nearby workshop,’ said Dennis.
‘So, what’s its range?’ asked Jake.
‘With its wing-tanks filled it should be good for 3,500 miles. It’s really a small cargo plane, it could just about fit your 4x4 in, or around twenty people,’ said Dennis.
‘Sounds great, so all we have to do is take the wrapping off, plug in the engines, find the fuel and away we go,’ said Harry, ‘Oh and we’ll have to learn how to fly it, but how hard can that be Dennis, after all, you have built and flown your own microlight?’
‘OK, funny guy, it will be quite a challenge, but the “flying-it” bit should be easier than you think. The control of the rotors for take-off and landing can be done using the autopilot. I believe that it will do the job. All I will need are three or four of our more mechanically-minded guys to help me,’ said Dennis.
‘It would certainly avoid all the issues with the hovercars and its range would be more than enough to get us there and back. Shame it’s not quite sufficient to take us all to Britain,’ said Jake.
‘There might be another option there,’ said Dave Cross, who had been sitting quietly eating his supper. ‘I found something down in one of the dry docks. It’s been bashed about a bit, but most of it is still in one piece. I think it was one of a fleet of climate control ships that the US experimented with when they thought they could reverse the climate change. The beauty of it is that it’s mostly sail powered, so no complex engines to get going just some simple electric ones.
‘Sounds interesting, what else do you know about it?’ said Jake.
‘They were built in the early years of the 22nd century, the fleet of Cloud Makers, as they were called. They were the US’s attempt to buy more time against the worst of the temperature changes. They cruised the oceans for over 50 years. Their flettner rotor sails provided the ships with a endless free power supply and allowed them to be steered in almost any direction. As well as driving the ships along the power from the sails was also used to drive large pumps which sprayed seawater at high pressure from the top of each rotor mast. This was cloud creation on an industrial scale. In theory, the resulting clouds would reduce warming by reflecting the Sun’s rays back into space before they reached the ground. Once at sea the small crew of five had little to do since the ships were inertial-guided and fully automated. The main reason for the crew being there was to perform any minor repairs and to repel boarders. The fleet was mainly deployed off the west coasts of Africa and America to maximise the albedo effects. As far as I can determine, the ship I’ve found is the only surviving member of its class. According to its log, it had put into port for some major repairs shortly before the other five remaining ships disappeared suddenly overnight. The initial fleet of five hundred had been severely depleted over the previous 10 years. Their design life of 20 years had been more than doubled, but eventually, various defects were deemed unrepairable. There was also increasing disillusionment with the benefits from the process; some regions reckoned that it was improving the USA
’s climate at the expense of their own and attacked the ships,’ said Dave.
‘So what are you thinking Dave, a quick sail up the coast, and maybe take a car with us so we can drive across to the forests?’ said Jake.
‘Who cares about going to the forests, this is an ocean-going vessel, I was thinking of going home, to Britain,’ said Dave, much to the amazement of the others.
‘Just how big is this cloud-maker?’ asked Jane.
‘Three hundred feet, six masts and 1,000 tons,’ replied Dave.
‘Here we go again,’ said Harry, ‘just like sailing your dinghy on the lakes near the Asheville dome?’
Dave now looked rather annoyed.
‘Thanks Dave, I think we all need to take a look at these amazing flying and sailing devices before we write them off. Let's go first thing in the morning,’ said Jake
The Osprey impressed them all immediately. It took around three hours to unwrap it, but most of that time was spent finding some ladders big enough to do the job. The plane was much larger than a hovercar. It had six passenger seats, but as Dennis had already said, it had mainly been kitted out as a freighter. Despite sitting in the hangar for over 100 years, it appeared to be in mint condition. Its landing gear had been chocked-up, so the tires were not taking its weight and seemed to be in good shape once their protective coverings were removed. The engines and rotors were more of a problem: weighing it at one ton each, it would be difficult to remount them onto the wings without the appropriate lifting gear.
‘I’m sure I saw some chain and pulley systems in one of the workshops. We just need to construct a frame for them and the jobs done,’ said Dennis, excited with his new toy.
The Cloud Maker was less impressive. It had been in dry dock for servicing when the Atlantic Armada had left the port, never to return. The tsunami had wrecked the dry dock and left the ship half buried under mounds of flotsam brought in by the giant wave. Two of its rotors appeared to have been damaged beyond repair, but once the debris was cleared from around one of them, it immediately began to rotate in the gentle breeze.
‘Hey guys, it’s showing a power reading up here. The rotor has begun to charge the batteries,’ shouted Dave from the bridge.
31 LOST IN THE WOODS
A year later and Dennis was running through his pre-flight checks ready for the forest trip. The fuel had been a major problem, but they had eventually managed to scavenge enough from across the base. Dennis had been right about flying the Osprey, it was similar to a hovercar in that the computers did most of the hard work and all that the pilot had to do was tell it where he wanted to go. This would be his tenth flight, but only the third one for Jane and Harry. They had both taken a crash-course in flying on their previous flights, so at a pinch, they could fly the thing, but neither of them was too keen on it. Dennis had so far kept his test flights within the perimeter of the base. They had no idea if Central could see what they were up to there, but they were all concerned that he would take an interest in a large plane flying across the country up to the northern forests.
They were waved off with little ceremony by Jake and the other workers. Dennis took the plane up to 400 feet and headed two miles out to sea and then north along the coast. The inertial navigation system needed a bit of recalibration but based on observations of the coastline, seemed to be reasonably accurate. By staying over the sea, they were attempting to keep out of Central’s sight and also preferred ditching in the sea rather than crash landing ashore if the plane did let them down. They all knew how to operate the aircraft’s emergency inflatable lifeboat.
The vibration and noise within the Osprey did not fill the passengers with confidence. Denis had assured them that it was all working as it should, but they both wondered if they were doing the right thing. Their flight path would hug the coast for at least 800 miles before heading inland for the forests.
Three hours later the Osprey was on a northwesterly course across the land and flying low. Jake had found a hand-held Geiger Counter in one of the ancient storerooms and wanted to test his theory that Central had lied to them about the radiation belt. So Dennis had the device secured to his cockpit dashboard. It had been on since they had taken off and had so far only picked up normal background levels of radiation.
The plane pitched and rolled as it followed the terrain at 200 feet. Too low and they risked raising a dust-storm, too high, and they might be seen by the Natives or Central. The vast central desert sped by beneath. What once were fertile plains as far as the eye could see were now burnt-out scrublands. Occasional groups of feral camels (Camelus Dromedarius) scattered as the Osprey passed overhead. There were some derelict settlements from the old days, all of which were being gradually reclaimed by the drifting sands. The Great Lakes saltpan came in a flash across the horizon. Jane and Harry squinted from the increased glare of the now snow-white landscape below. Half an hour later the landscape gradually began to change again, becoming noticeably greener. Rocky scrub gave way to grasslands with a few scattered trees, which led suddenly to the thick canopy of the Great Forest.
Dennis slowed the plane to reduce its noise footprint over the tree tops. They had no idea where they should be looking but had decided to fly 50 miles on from the edge of the forest and then find a place to land.
The plane circled while Dennis looked for a suitable landing site in what appeared to be unbroken tree canopy from one horizon to the next. Eventually, he spotted a small raised rocky area where the trees had not managed to get a hold. It would be awkward because the ground was rough and sloping with numerous small bushes and saplings. He targeted the landing site in the plane’s laser guidance system and initiated an automated vertical landing.
The nose wheels struck a rock and skidded pitching the plane violently to the left. Dennis acted quickly and manually powered down the rotors causing the rear wheels to hit the ground and bounce a couple of feet before settling. Jane and Harry both breathed a sigh of relief when Dennis turned around in his pilot’s seat and gave them the thumbs-up sign. They unstrapped their harnesses and racked their headphones. Dennis had already lowered the rear loading ramp. Jane and Harry picked up their backpacks and headed out into the cool air above the forest. The view was stunning; the green canopy stretched as far as their eyes could see, while huge flocks of birds flitted about in the upper branches. They were just getting their bearings when Dennis appeared at the foot of the ramp carrying a large suitcase.
‘We were lucky with this landing spot. I’ll setup here and monitor your progress using the plane’s drone,’ he said as he sprung open the case.
‘OK, let’s just remind ourselves of what we agreed,’ said Harry. ‘We’ll head due north for three days then we’ll arrange pickup if possible. Otherwise, we’ll come back here, and we’ll check in by radio every hour until sunset.’
‘Got all that buddy,’ said Dennis. ‘I’ll be using the drone to scout out some other landing sites and as a relay for your radio signal. Its infra-red sensor should be able to track you through the canopy, and it can also trace your radio beacon. I’ll let you know if anything interesting is approaching, or if I have any problems at this end.’
‘Bye Dennis, see you in a few days,’ said Jane as they turned and made their way down the steep rocky slope and into the forest.
Once they were on the forest floor, Harry checked their packs and confirmed their communication channels with the Osprey. Compared with their mountain home near Ashville, the woods were humid and sultry. The dense canopy let through little light from above, with most of the illumination coming from distant clearings as it filtered through the tree trunks and thick undergrowth. Their eyes look several minutes to adjust to the green gloom. Harry checked the compass on his wrist and looked around for a way through the undergrowth. They had been advised to make as little noise as possible, so when he had found a route, he just pointed to the direction he wanted. The animal tracks were narrow and wandered in and out of the trees but offered the easiest passage without hav
ing to chop their way through. Harry just kept picking the track which took them closest to the direction they wanted.
The terrain was gently undulating with occasional streams and large, impenetrable briar patches. They always took the easy route around these obstacles; they were not in a hurry. The sunlight in the occasional forest clearings was dazzling. These open spaces had usually come about due to large fallen trees or isolated rocky outcrops where the trees could not establish themselves. Clouds of insects danced in the heat of these sunny oases. Large groups of blue and yellow butterflies of unknown type busied themselves amongst the profusion of opportunistic flowering plants. Their iridescent displays were mesmerising since nothing like them existed in the bleak desert landscape of their current home in Asheville. Unfortunately, many of the insects had a taste for something other than nectar and made short work of any exposed areas of human skin. The plants in the clearings were also different from those beneath the tree canopy. Fruit bushes thrived alongside tall stinging nettles (Urtica Dioica). The thorns from the brambles tore at their clothing, and the nettles brought up large rashes on the backs of their hands before they realised what they were. The novelty of the clearings rapidly wore off, and for the remainder of the afternoon, they skirted around them where possible.
Overall the gradient took them gradually upwards, and after six hours they reached a ridge and began to descend into what appeared to be a broad river valley. At the top of the ridge, the soil and trees had thinned out giving them their first real panoramic view since entering the forest. Some of the trees were giants when compared with their neighbours. Their canopies being more than double the standard height. A large colony of Crows (Corvus Brachyrhynchos Giganticus) had taken over one of the nearest of the taller trees. The cackling chorus of the busy birds drowned out the sounds from rest of the forest. They seemed completely oblivious to the buzzard (Buteo Buteo) that was silently circling hundreds of feet above them.
