Early inspections of the settlement are a revelation.
The core of it is a camp built out of vehicles and scrap. The Phoenix is parked at the center, with everything else built around it as a respectful distance. Slim-Fast’s interior is half open. The molecular lathe and other machinery is operating full-time, synthesizing food and medicine from the raw organic materials the refugees bring it.
It’s such a basic, fundamental technology used by super-gadgeteers the world over. It’s 3D printing at the molecular level.
Why aren’t more people doing this? Otto asks himself. The answer is obvious, of course. The technology is so easy to exploit. Making heroin is biochemically no more difficult than making insulin. What’s different is motivation. You’d have to want to hurt people. Slim-Fast, like other Phoenixes, won’t allow itself to be used by such people. And it is astonishingly good at identifying them.
There’s no technological solution to making people better.
The team has been on the ground for three hours when the call comes.
Summer is flying long reconnaissance flights in the Chariot. Big Bill is staying closer to home, but is operating long-range radar searches. Mo and Otto are at the settlement itself, talking to the people in charge with Dr. Mana translating.
With a bit of help from Leo, Minato links the call into everyone’s comm system.
The man’s voice is hostile and demanding from the get-go. “This is Jeff Arbogast of the State Department. You don’t know how hard it was to get hold of you people. Who’s in charge here?”
“Otto Newman. We’re on humanitarian–”
“You are out of line,” Arbogast says, cutting him off. “Your people need to get out of Syria right now.”
“We’re talking to some people here who we’re pretty sure are in imminent danger,” Otto counters.
“They are not your concern.”
Everyone tenses up. They can hear Otto’s voice grow cold, even over the interference from the communication system. “Every human life is our concern, Mr. Arbogast. If the attack comes while we’re talking, I will hang up on you, so hurry up and make your threats already.”
This naked defiance deflates some of Arbogast’s bluster, but he rallies. “The Syria situation is an internal affair. You are risking an international incident by interfering.”
“You gonna send some people to do the job for us?” Otto asks. “If not, we’re here, we’re gonna save lives, and we’re not doing it for America or any other nation. We’re doing it for these people. If someone at the U.N. doesn’t like that, I’ll tell them the same thing I’ll tell you. Help people or get out of the way.”
Aria comes onto the call, strong and proud. “Mr. Arbogast, I’m Aria Newman. I represent the leadership of Safe Harbor, which plays host to Otto’s rescue efforts. We are an independent international entity. Bodies which wish to engage with us can begin doing so by formally recognizing us. But at this time we do not acknowledge your authority over our operations.”
“You won’t be the first to try this. It won’t end well for you,” Arbogast promises. Then the line goes dead.
It’s another 45 minutes before the fighters come screaming in.
Big Bill is the first to report a radar contact.
Otto doesn’t wait for confirmation. “Minato - launch the Sled!” he orders.
“Building up plasma pressure, sir. Sled in… 32 seconds.” The girl sounds stressed.
“Roger. Summer - stall the fighters. Big Bill - as arranged. Caravan scoop. Mo - point defense.”
A chorus of acknowledgements come over the radio.
Summer arcs the Chariot toward the radar contact at high altitude. She circles around and scans, finding the contact after a few moments. “Um, four groups of uh, four fighters apiece. I don’t know what kind.”
“You aren’t a trained fighter pilot,” cautions Aria over comms. “Remember that.”
Summer grins at her sister’s caution. “I know. But I don’t think those guys can do what I can do either.”
“What’s that?”
Summer angles the Chariot downward and pours on the power. “Survive 20G turns.”
She flies straight through the formation, sending the fighters in a surprised spiral outward from their formation. After a moment, the fighters do what she hoped - form up again, and follow her.
She dives for the ground. The fighters pull out before she does. They have to - she has a much tighter climbing radius, and supplemental thrusters they don’t. She levels out at a mere 15 feet over the ground, sending up dust plumes, then pulls the nose upward and re-orients to find the fighters again.
She can sort of imagine Alycia’s voice in her mind. “Right now they’re asking permission to fire at you. Pretty soon they’ll get it.”
She thumbs on the defensive suite of the Chariot, and readies herself.
The Sled emerges from a fresh portal, loaded down with three vital things: medical supplies, synthesized from Safe Harbor’s own lathes, an enormous power bank, and a bunch of Summer’s newly assembled spare drones.
The drones aren’t for the Chariot. They’re for the defense of the settlement.
Otto has been having a conversation with the de facto leader, a man named Youssef. Having to mediate it through Dr. Mana has slowed things down, but everyone is now on the same page.
The refugees are going to have to move. Otto is here to help with that, but cannot provide a place to move to. The last few hours have been preparing for this eventuality.
Otto asked Aria for special permission to house people with medical issues in Safe Harbor, at least temporarily, and she conceded this much. Those people are now being loaded onto the sled, with Mo hauling equipment off at the same time.
Everyone else has been loading into the vehicles. Slim-Fast is making nervous bird noises, and is clearly agitated by the activity. Otto has been furiously inputting commands through the Phoenix interface - “friendlies are moving” - and the stubborn bird seems to have gotten the basic idea, but refuses to move an inch regardless.
There’s a big bus that will play host to the power bank for the drones. Mo mounts it on top, lashes it down, and pronounces it good - at least until the weight of the bank crushes the roof. Refugees do their best to stack stuff underneath as reinforcement, but the bus groans under the weight regardless.
This vehicle will be at the heart of the new super-caravan. As other convoys come in, they’ll join up and take position around this one. The drones will orbit, intercepting bombs or missiles or guns or whatever, then recharge at the bank.
Big Bill is already on the ground, loading vulnerable people from the incoming caravans on board and hauling them back to Slim-Fast’s location. He can’t reach everyone, but he’ll get who he can. Otto has also tasked him with providing the other caravans with radios to coordinate the effort.
Summer reports in. “I think they’re getting bored of me. Some of them are peeling off.”
Explosions come over the comms as she speaks.
“You okay, lady?” Otto asks urgently.
“Oh yeah, these boys just have something long and hard for me,” Summer giggles.
“Just call them missiles and take a cold shower, geez,” Otto grumbles.
He turns to Youssef. “They’re coming,” he says tensely. Dr. Mana translates, but Youssef gets the message without it.
Everyone who can fit on the Sled is on board. Minato opens the portal at Otto’s command, and it glides through.
The Battery Bus groans and lurches, but it gets underway. Other vehicles take up position around it, creating a cloud of dust. The defense drones begin circling. Overhead, Big Bill jets past.
This is it, Otto thinks to himself. The die is cast.