David Golemon - Legacy

The two Ariane rockets were lined up as neatly as the three ships anchored just inside the main harbor at the ominous old prison. The ten-man team had walked unsuspectingly into far more firepower than they could handle. James McCabe shook his head as he looked at the bodies.

“They should have been far more cautious and less arrogant about their abilities,” he said as he turned toward the Mechanic. “Are the men we are leaving here all understanding of their orders?”

“I have chosen these men personally. They will do their duty to Allah. They are, as you say, understanding of that duty, and are proud to bring down the infidels’ attempt at mocking God. But I am surprised, James, that you find it so easy to send men to their deaths without a moment’s hesitation.”

McCabe looked the bearded Mechanic over. The man had set up the ambush of the French commandos with the expertise of someone who had far more formal training than he realized. During the brief exchange of gunfire, the Mechanic, with his thirty-man team recently flown in from northern Pakistan, had suffered only two dead and one wounded.

“I have been in the killing and sacrifice business for a long time. You should know that I chased you and your people for many months inside Iraq.” McCabe looked at the Mechanic very closely. “You seem to have become more of your old self in the past few days. Are you seeing the light of Allah in your soul once more?” McCabe offered a slight smile.

The tall Mechanic didn’t answer the insulting question. He just stepped away from the bodies of the French soldiers and nodded at his men.

“Take your stations and know that Allah is smiling down upon you this night.”

The Mechanic was present at the demonstration put on by McCabe and the specialists he had working for Rawlins after the mine had been entered for the first time since the German army had vacated the site. One of the abandoned crates they found had contained one of the ancient weapons from the original German excavation. They had spent six months of hard work trying desperately to reverse-engineer the riflelike weapon, only to fail again and again. Then they had discovered the small satchel of meteorites that had been hidden away over 700 million years before. The properties were soon untangled and then the power source of the ore, or meteorite as the Germans had called it, had been discovered. The light weapon had performed magnificently as its bright blue light pierced solid stone, melting a three-inch steel plate. All of this in just a three-minute test. At the three-minute mark the weapon had burned out. But the source of the design’s power had been uncovered and the Mechanic had started having a slow change of heart about the men he was working with. Knowing what his movement could do with that weapon had a profound effect on him. Too bad they had left the weapon inside the mine, as he would have liked to have shown it to some very special people in Iran, Pakistan, and Afghanistan.

McCabe and the Mechanic watched the fire team as they ran into the old ruins of the reception center where prisoners were once processed for their eventual dispersal into the penal colonies on the different islands. McCabe smiled as the hum of a large generator filled the air as the four launchers were uncovered for the first time since they had been off-loaded. The Lavochkin OKB S-75, better known to NATO as the SA-2 Guideline, was a delightful bonus when McCabe and his men broke into the Raytheon Corporation’s storage facility. The Russian-made Guideline was the latest and best version of the venerable surface-to-air missiles commonly known as SAMs. The American company had come into possession of the four weapons during a raid in 2006 on a well-defended warehouse in Taliban-controlled territory in Afghanistan. Once called upon to target B-52s in Vietnam, the Guideline’s new mission would be to bring down two Ariane rockets carrying no fewer than twenty men and women. The weapon would be deadly at the short range required. As the nose cones of the four missiles rose above the shattered wall of the old administration buildings, McCabe was satisfied that the men chosen would do as ordered. He nodded and looked at the Mechanic.

“Shall we get out of here before the fireworks start?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Then he did a double take as he saw something in the former terrorist’s eyes he didn’t like. He actually looked longingly at the shining white tips of the missiles as they rose into the air, as if he were contemplating staying behind. It didn’t take long to have his suspicion confirmed.

“Perhaps they have not had enough training on when to turn on their radars. I think I should-”

“Get on the helicopter. We have little enough time as it is. They can handle it. You trained them on when to light up their radars.”

The Mechanic looked from the missiles to his employer. The look told McCabe that the Mechanic was starting to have second thoughts about the way in which he was being rewarded for his duties. He realized there would be no virgins awaiting him in heaven upon his death, only scorn and ridicule from the true believers who had preceded him to the afterlife.

The Mechanic turned and boarded the waiting French-built Gazelle helicopter. With one last look at his unfolding plan, McCabe followed.

As soon as he settled into the backseat of the small helicopter, he put on a set of headphones and leaned forward to speak to the pilot.

“Remember, stay only a few feet off the water as we head east. We cannot be picked up on the ESA radar. They have Mirage fighters all over this area.”

The pilot nodded as the twin turbines of the helicopter started their whine.

“Now, get me Los Angeles,” he said, tapping on his microphone in a gesture that said he wanted to use the radio. McCabe only waited for a moment when his party was reached.

“The operation will commence in forty-five minutes,” he said.

Doubtless with sabotage in the air now, precautions would be made.

But then, end runs around precautions were always part of any game of sabotage!

Philippe Gardenaux was watching the monitors and the telemetry stations. His control center’s overall responsibility for the mission would take full effect as soon as the two Ariane missions cleared the two launch towers six thousand miles away in French Guiana. Until then he was a nervous bystander, as the ESA’s most ambitious mission to date was only thirty seconds from reality. He had been named over two Germans and one Netherlander for the post of chief of flight operations. As he watched the commencement of the thirty-second countdown in Guiana, he wondered why the cooperation between his agency and the men and women at NASA had suddenly ceased. Even through icy relationships between the United States and other areas of the world, the space programs of both nations had always seemed to be off limits to petty political squabbles. All that had changed, and he suspected it was because of the mineral and the alien weaponry they were going after. He prayed that both nations as well as China would come to their senses.

“… ten, nine, eight, seven, Ariane 1 has main engine start, four, three, two, Ariane 1 has full ignition start of solid fuel boosters, one, we have separation of restraining bolts and the clock is officially running.”

Gardenaux watched at the tremendous power of Ariane 1 scrambled the picture momentarily. He and others switched their view to another monitor that showed the start of the launch from a half mile away. He saw the giant rocket start to lift free of the Earth and start its climb to the sky with its fifty-ton payload and ten astronauts. He watched as the Ariane cleared the top of the tower.