by T I WADE
Two days later Jonesy, Maggie, Ryan and VIN, entered Earth’s atmosphere. Allen Saunders, was above in SB-II, Michael Pitt was flying SB-I, 5,000 miles behind him. America One was prepared to draw back its shield and unleash the more powerful laser if necessary. All the craft had dropped down to a lower 120 miles altitude, the lowest height they could destroy attacking nuclear missiles before they were in danger. All three craft could be seen slowly orbiting on thousands of radar screens worldwide as they rounded the planet, with one ship above the most dangerous places at all times. Commander Joot was asked to participate using his spaceship with Elder Roo as co-pilot, to make it appear that four spacecraft were looking down on Earth. Even Suzi and Kathy took flight in the two mining craft to increase the orbiting craft to six for a few orbits. Always changing the numbers, the enemies on Earth didn’t know how many craft Ryan actually had; they automatically assumed they were all armed, and Ryan could have dozens more. They were a powerful force, not to be underestimated,
The security crew were back on the airfield within two days. They had been thrown off the base several years ago by the NSA and returned with several doctors, wheelchairs, sunglasses, blankets and hats ready for the incoming astronauts. Jonesy, a little rusty in Earth landings, sweated as he brought SB-III into the hot Nevada desert. He was sweating because he was already tasting Budweiser, whiskey, fresh fish, burgers, and fries, and he was trying to fly at the same time.
Even though he was rusty, and his trusty wife was egging him on, he completed a perfect landing on an airfield he knew well. The tail of the Dead Chicken could be seen waiting for him as they passed behind the hangars that had been replaced the last time. It was 10:00 a.m. on the morning of June 9th, 2027.
They had been away from Earth for ten years, 2 months and seventeen days, and had travelled half a billion miles.
What they all noticed was that the gravitational pull was suddenly like a brick in the pit of their stomachs as they slowed down the simmering runway. Although fit and having trained for this return to Earth for a few weeks, they were not prepared for how strong the gravity on Mother Earth actually was.
“Hope the pool is cool,” Jonesy said as they waited for the tow truck to take them back to the hangar.
Lieutenant Walls, driving the tow vehicle, circled around them once smiling at the cockpit and raising his cap in welcome. He and an older looking Sergeant Meyers connected the tow arm, and they turned around and headed back to the coolness of the hangar while Jonesy and Maggie closed down the ship and completed their final checks. The crew let Ryan ceremoniously leave SB-III first.
“Welcome, Mr. Richmond,” stated the two grey-haired soldiers together as they helped the pale, thin and very weak old-looking man out of the side hatch. They were not expecting to see how much he had changed and how much older he looked with his greying hair. Ryan struggled to stand, and was immediately helped into a wheelchair.
Two pretty uniformed air force nurses put a wide brimmed hat on his head, handed him sunglasses, wrapped a blanket around him, and wheeled him out of the hangar towards the medical bay. The sun hit Ryan hard, its heat wanted to cook him alive, and now he knew what it felt like to be placed inside a hot oven; his skin wanted to melt off his body. The other three were affected the same way.
Ten hours later, after a nap in a cool hospital ward and the sun down, they were wheeled out towards Jonesy’s favorite pool. A spread of luxury food items had been placed on the porch by the clean pool, and bottles of champagne, beer, juice and soft drinks awaited. Each of them were helped into the warm water, which immediately relieved the painful gravitational pull on their weak bodies, and bottles of refreshments were opened; Jonesy immediately got the two tanned men to get the filets of salmon he had seen on the barbeque.
Lieutenant Walls and Sergeant Meyers had purchased the welcoming supplies themselves. The torn-apart Nellis Air Force base had loaned the airfield its medical crew, and the U.S. Government had offered nothing. That for Ryan was perfect, as he didn’t want to see one government official during his last visit to his homeland. Ryan wasn’t as nice this time. He had learned well, and had ordered the government to leave him alone.
The airfield had changed slightly. Just after sunrise the next morning, he was driven out to see the destruction his lasers had done to the missile sites. VIN had been accurate; they were closer to 1,000 yards south of the airstrip and must have been a hundred or so feet high before the launch systems were turned into twisted metal towers. The area looked like a blackened and still smoldering battle zone. The three launch areas were nothing more than mangled metal on broken and cracked concrete slabs that could never be used again. Now he knew what the other sites around the world they had hit would look like, and he also knew by the simplicity of the launch pads, that thousands more still existed. He knew his freedom would only last so long in the Northern Hemisphere. He wanted to be out of this country, ASAP.
During the heat of the next day they were brought up to date by the security detail, as well as the friendly doctors and nurses attending them.
The U.S. was in a bad way. So was the rest of the world before international communications had come to a grinding halt. Now only governments and banks talked to each other. It seemed that the major banks around the world had as much power as the governments did, before the communications shutdown, and then the trade shutdown. All continents had become closed off areas from each other; it all happened in 2020, two years after the new U.S. administration came to power. At the same time the Chinese government had become less friendly to the rest of the world, and the two major powers stopped talking and then trading with each other. The North American continent, the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, was not first-world anymore, and the people struggled. With massive unemployment, and unabated crime in civilian areas, nobody in the U.S. knew what was going on in the rest of the world. Ryan didn’t want to hear any more. He knew that he didn’t want to stay in the U.S.
Captain Pete interrupted the discussion with a radio call down to the airfield, telling Ryan that Bob Mathews had been found in Australia, and that he was ready to patch the pilot through.
“G’day, Ryan, great to hear that your trip was successful, mate,” stated Bob once he was through to Nevada.
“What are you doing in Australia, mate?” Ryan asked, smiling at his pilot’s new accent on speakerphone once the others had contributed their greetings.
“The northern arguing and fighting got worse and worse over time, mate, and the fishing better and better as we cruised south,” replied Bob. “The two girls and I have fished the whole world, and now the best in life is here, Down Under, mate. Australia and New Zealand have stayed out of the conflicts and it’s now the best place on Earth. Africa is rundown with half the continent dying. So are parts of Asia. The new U.S. and Chinese governments are weak, self-centered, and the worst we have ever had. At least your old buddy in Montreal kept things together as long as he could. He and I speak every now and again. He always wanted to know if I had heard from you. Anyway, come on Down Under, mate, you are welcome here. Several of the top guys running the country are now pals of mine, thanks to my old Astermine contact, you, and they told me to tell you that you can move your base down here, and they will build or supply anything you want in return for your friendship, nothing more. And, I’m sure you are going to find out soon enough, Ryan, five years ago the banks confiscated all private accounts worldwide that hadn’t been used for 24 months or more. They cleaned out my Astermine account. I was told yours was one of them as well. All non-used accounts were cleaned out and closed. I can get you the phone number of our old bank’s CEO if you want. I bitched at him often for my 100 grand. He is still in New York and seems far too friendly for someone who can’t help you. Know what I mean?” Bob gave him the New York number.
“Thanks, Bob. Get yourself and your crew a flight back here within the week. Air routes are safe again. Tell your friends I’m interested. Tell them to fly you over. I need your services for a
few “Dead Chicken” flights, and we will have the two Gulfstreams airborne and fueled before you arrive,” returned Ryan. After hearing about Australia, Ryan thought out a new plan.
Ryan had direct contact, through the spaceship when overhead, to the U.S. military engineers already setting up camp at Sabha Airport in the middle of the Libyan Desert. The U.S. government, with Libya’s permission, had flown in 300 of them, another 300 troops for protection, jeeps, helicopters and armor, and twenty flights of earth-moving and runway-making equipment from Italy.
Three days after their arrival Ryan was told that his runway coordinates were atop an old volcanic crater a thousand feet high. The crater was about three miles wide, 200 feet deep, and had a sandy surface. After flying over the crater, the engineers told him that it looked like a pig’s snout, where he wanted them to build his runway, and there was no way they could build a landing strip there or a supply road up into the crater. Fortunately, there was a decent desert-dirt road they could use. It passed within 30 miles of the crater.
The chief engineer, a colonel, suggested that they widen a flat part of the road closest to the crater, tarmac a runway, and then chopper in whatever Ryan wanted up into the crater from the new airfield.
Ryan didn’t know what Commander Joot would want in the crater, but he agreed to their plan. Anyway, this runway was only to find out what remained of the Matts home base. He also asked the colonel for accommodations, generators, fuel and water; a complete forward military base for about a dozen people right next to the airfield.
The colonel told him that the runway could be ready in a few weeks. The road was good enough to get immediate flights of equipment into the area, and that he would get several military high-lift helicopters flown over from the old U.S. base in Italy.
Ryan’s next job was to see if his underground cavern was secure. It was, and still fully powered up. He and VIN headed down to stroke their sports cars, and he did a complete survey of the stores down there to figure out what would be the first load out of Nevada. His large tank of pure alcohol, fuel for the vehicles, including the two fully armed Bradleys, was still good, all 30,000 gallons of it, and he asked the air force to fly in smaller fuel tanks, which could be fitted aboard the Dead Chicken. He wanted a ton of the alcohol to be launched up for Commander Joot to test with the new supplies that would be arriving for launch in a few days. And he had already spoken to his old bank CEO.
The CEO, still based in New York was quite surprised when Ryan himself called him on a landline. As an experienced bank manager the man kindly explained to Ryan that the bank had changed its policy of banking, as it was allowed to by the federal government, and yes, the $3.2 billion dollars in Ryan’s account had been removed, and his account unfortunately closed for lack of use.
Listening to Ryan’s growing anger, he continued in a kindly way that, no, the bank would not give him his money back. The friendly, but unfortunate CEO sitting atop his tall bank tower in downtown Manhattan was as charming as possible until Ryan threatened him. Then he made the mistake of ending the phone call from his ex-customer.
Several minutes later, a hole was blasted through the roof of his expansive top-floor office; the walls, roof and floor began exploding as a powerful laser began eating through the steel supports of his building. He watched in horror as a hole in an outer wall of the building began to grow as sparks and smoke filled the room.
Then his phone rang again and through the dust cloud swirling around him he managed to find it.
Only when he agreed to demands that all Astermine staff accounts, including Ryan’s, be reopened and their balances returned, did the destruction of one of the tallest buildings in Manhattan cease, as the entire outer wall of one side of his large office collapsed and the unfortunate man was about to be swept out through the hole. The CEO of the world’s largest bank was thankful to have escaped with his life, and the world’s banking laws changed yet again.
The crew on the airfield became stronger, and a week later Jonesy and Maggie flew back up peacefully to rejoin their daughter on America One. Saturn Jones was surprised to see how reddish brown they had become. They looked more like Elder Roo’s color than they did the Tall People, and both had put on a little weight.
The shuttle carried a ton of fuel for the Matt Commander’s spacecraft, several of the latest computers, spares from the underground cavern, and luxury items the crew aboard had longed for.
Allen Saunders landed SB-II on the hot runway a day later with his wife Jamie as co-pilot, Commander Joot, Igor and Boris. Once again the security and medical personal were ready and a fully space-suited Commander Joot, with helmet on, was wheeled into the medical ward; his helmet and suit were removed only with America One personnel around him. The white, pasty crewmembers were weak, and surprised at how quickly their fellow crewmembers that had been there a week had filled out and their color had darkened into tans.
There was no real need to fly up hydrogen fuel and many other products, as the mother ship was now a self-sufficient entity; only spares, clothing, and Earth items of luxury were transported.
SB-III was refueled with just enough liquid hydrogen to return to Earth. It entered Earth’s atmosphere with its crew cabin full of 12 happy, excited, and pale tourists. It was a dream for many to be back on Earth, and a wonder for several of the younger crewmembers. They could all feel the strong gravitational pull, and each one was bundled up and wheeled over to the waiting doctors and nurses.
Hand in hand, Jonesy and Maggie walked across to the medical bay to be with their daughter. Like two aging fighter pilots, they walked slowly across the hot apron with their helmets in their free hands. It was nice to be home.
Books by the Author
The Book of Tolan Series (Adult Reading)
Banking, Beer & Robert the Bruce – Hardcover and eNovel.
Easy Come Easy Go – Hardcover and eNovel.
It Could Happen – eNovel.
AMERICA ONE Series (General Reading)
AMERICA ONE – eNovel and Paperback.
AMERICA ONE – The Launch – eNovel and Paperback.
AMERICA ONE – The Odyssey Begins – eNovel and Paperback.
INVASION USA Series (General Reading)
INVASION USA I – The End of Modern Civilization – eNovel.
INVASION USA II – The Battle for New York – eNovel.
INVASION USA III – The Battle for Survival – eNovel.
INVASION USA IV – The Battle for Houston … The Aftermath – eNovel.
INVASION EUROPE: The Battle for Survival – 2014
INVASION USA Series: Paperback Editions
INVASION USA I – The End of Modern Civilization
INVASION USA II – The Battle for New York
INVASION USA III – The Battle for Survival
INVASION USA IV – The Battle for Houston … The Aftermath
INVASION EUROPE: The Battle for Survival – 2014
THE BANKERS CLUB Series (General Reading)
THE BANKERS CLUB I: Defaults – 2013
THE BANKERS CLUB II: Acquisitions – 2014
THE BANKERS CLUB III: Withdrawals – 2014
About the Author
T I WADE was born in Bromley, Kent, England in 1954.
His father, a banker was promoted with his International Bank to Africa and the young family moved to Africa in 1956.
The author grew up in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and his life there is humorously described in his novel EASY COME EASY GO, Volume II of the Book of Tolan Series. Once he had completed his mandatory military commitments, at 21 he left Africa to mature in Europe.
He enjoyed Europe and lived in three countries; England, Germany and Portugal for 15 years before returning to Africa; Cape Town in 1989.
Here the author owned and ran a restaurant, a coffee manufacturing and retail business, flew a Cessna 210 around desolate southern Africa and finally got married in 1992.
Due to the upheavals of the political turmoil in South Africa,
the Wade family of three moved to the United States in 1996. Park City, Utah was where his writing career began.
To date T I Wade has written eleven novels.
The Author, his wife and two teenage children currently live 20 miles south of Raleigh, North Carolina.
Thank you for reading the America One Series.
It you would like to ask the author a question about the series, or make a suggestion, please email the author at [email protected]
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