Part I
REEL Rangers Institute, Cleveland, Ohio, United North American States (UNAS)
“Ranger flight 913, this is Lakefront Control. You are cleared to land on runway 2A. Welcome back Deputy Chief Mays. Hey, how's the ride in that souped-up glider of yours?”
“Copy that Lakefront. And the LectricJet ride's as smooth as butter, as long as there's no headwind,” Mays answered jokingly. Dry-mouthed and damp with sweat under his flight-suit, Deputy Chief Tremaine “Tree” Mays, was anxious to get down to the Institute for his “meeting” with Chief Carvallo and get back to his shale-gas clean-up project in Ontario. Looking back to his right, Tree could see the orange-red glow of the sun setting into Lake Erie, illuminating the scattered clouds. Heading towards the shoreline, he saw starry white lights, dispersed like a constellation over a wide area of the expansive surface of the ocean-like lake. The Erie Wind Farm contained hundreds of huge wind turbines, each one shining like a lighthouse.
Releasing the autopilot mode of his LectricJet, Tree descended precipitously from cloud level to scant meters above the wave caps as he approached the Institute's lakefront airport. The adrenalin rush from his stomach to his head made his temples throb with intense pleasure mingled with the aching shift in altitude. Piloting the small two-seater electric engine jet was the sole self-indulgence he entertained while on duty.
After a flawless landing, Tree waved off the ground shuttle driver and took the long walk across the tarmac to the HQ building for his meeting with Division Chief Carvallo. Tremaine carried an impressive physique at 1.84 meters tall, lanky, but well-muscled. Sporting a purple jumpsuit and cap with “Restore Our Earth” embroidered in gold, Tree looked regal with penetrating deep-set eyes, a thin beard tracing his well-defined jawline and skin the color of cinnamon. Although he appeared serene and confident, a surging anxiety now washed over Tree as his right eye began to twitch - a telltale warning of trouble on the horizon. It was a sure sign that he should proceed with caution and gird himself for the worst. These eye spasms, induced by a feeling of dread, taught him to prepare for potential calamity looming nearby.
A knack for dealing with adversity proved to be one of his greatest assets. Tree possessed an uncanny resourcefulness highly regarded by his fellow REEL Rangers. He also possessed the unique ability to provoke his adversaries to the brink of rage. Tree was summoned again to respond to charges for exceeding his authority as the recently appointed Deputy Chief, Industrial Refuse Reclamation Division (IRRD). This was not a designation of honor. It was his only opportunity to remain a Ranger after being booted out of the Forestry Division for similar misconduct.
Enjoying the lake view from his glass-domed office, Division Chief Carvallo reclined in an antique barber’s chair from the 1950’s loaded with hi-tech amenities. He savored this moment to clear his mind while meditating on the amber sun setting into Lake Erie's horizon. A brawny silver-haired Native-American, Carvallo resembled a bald eagle perched on high scouting for vermin below. He tended towards intolerance but was somewhat yielding in his turbulent relationship with Tree. Carvallo swiveled away from the expansive window view of the lake to stare silently at Tree who strode ardently into his spacious, but scantily furnished office. Tree casually took a chair directly opposite Carvallo with no desk between them.
“Deputy Chief Mays, this is the seventh official complaint filed accusing your unit of using strong-arm tactics while monitoring industrial reclamation operations. Seven complaints in the past six months. That’s more than once a month that I handle your garbage!” argued Division Chief Carvallo.
“Now, listen up Chief…,” Tree interjected.
“Listen who? No, you listen, you slime-water guzzling greenie. That uniform and insignia you wear represent REEL Rangers, not Texas Rangers. We do not carry a big stick because we do not enforce the law, we encourage compliance with the law! Our objective is to help corporations comply with environmental and ecological guidelines for sustaining natural resources. If you're having trouble with this concept, perhaps I'll send you back to the Academy for some remedial training. Just think back on why you were kicked out of the Forestry Division and sent to me to clean up industrial waste. Your people skills haven’t improved, not one iota.” Mentally checking his pulse, Carvallo sensed it was too soon to get emotionally revved up before ultimately forcing Tree into a corner. Softening his crusty gruff voice, Carvallo continued, “The good news, Tree, is that you get to keep the uniform, insignia and rank, for a while longer. Now here’s the bad news. Your mission has changed, effective immediately. Surveillance satellites have detected surface temperatures well above the norm at the South Pole. Your job will be to investigate and report back to me what you find. Is that clear?”
“Chief, I understand that my methods have earned me some unsavory assignments, but sending me to Antarctica?”
“I beg your pardon Deputy Chief, I misstated. You are not to Antarctica. You are going to the Lunar South Pole where Megalith Lunar Mining operations are based. Yes, you with a small investigative team are going to the Moon. We are responding to a request from the Space Exploration Administration. You shall investigate anomalies cited in Megalith’s monthly reports to SEA regarding preservation of water ice reservoirs and other protected resources within the lunar soil, known as regolith. Megalith has been granted sole authority to mine the regolith in Shackleton Crater, at the South Pole. As you know, the Moon possesses an array of volatiles – precious elements and compounds that Earth needs desperately. Top among them is helium-3, which is required for our burgeoning nuclear fusion industry. That being said, verified ice pockets are considered “holy water” for future colonization of the moon. We need to make sure these ice pockets are not contaminated by volatile mining operations. And we must discover the source of heat emanating from the regolith. It’s supposed to be deadly cold at the surface. Minus 200 degrees Celsius, so I’m told. Report to SEA at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, ASAP. Is that clear?”
Tree did not respond. Thinking only to himself, “Investigate? On the Moon? If my suspicions are on cue, I must heed the warning signs with this mission.”
“Deputy Chief, is that clear?” Carvallo barked out angrily.
“Clear as a tornado warning siren Chief. Do you really think you have made a wise choice by selecting me for this?”
“Tree you insolent oil fracker,” Carvallo retorted but held back the bile oozing up in his throat. Taking a deep breath to center himself, Carvallo lowered his tone. “Tree, you are by all standards our number one asset for discovering wrongdoing. Moreover, your record is unmatched at identifying and preventing potential cover-ups and catastrophes. That is why your eccentric attitude is tolerated as part of your total package. We need you on this, but for God’s sake be a team player, my team player. This could be a dangerous mission Tree. I don’t want to lose you as a result of your usual risk taking insanity. You’ve got this one chance to bring REEL Rangers to a higher standing. Will you do this for all of us? Placing your pride aside?”
“My pride was lost years ago Chief. I lost eight Rangers in the past ten years to industrial accidents in Nigeria, Brazil and Iran. You know why, and I know better. Now, it’s the Moon? As ordered, I’ll investigate and advise employing my instincts, and my team. But expect more of the same from me Chief, not less, if you want this job done right.”
“Tree, you truly do not have a way with words. Adding insult to injury, you also specialize in driving me stark raving mad. If anyone else were to speak to me like this, I’d take pleasure in castrating them - man or woman. Take care of yourself Tree. Take care of your team. Sophie Lavoie and Luis Ramirez will join you at Cheyenne Mountain. Now please, get the hell out of my office.” Carvallo swiveled his converted barber’s chair towards the window.
Without another word, Tree stood up and walked out wondering what really motivated Carvallo to choose him for this mission. Over the past decade, his far-reaching itinerary included some of the most remote and desolate areas of the planet. Now, a voyage to a frigid dark desert on the Moon awaited. What a circuitous journey for a farm boy from Georgia. His Granny Lethia would surely watch over him on this new adventure, like always.
Tree only marginally resembled his namesake in appearance. Most people mistakenly assumed that the nickname “Tree” was derived from “Tremaine,” who was first called, “Trey.” Granny Lethia consecrated “Tree”, during his twelfth year. She was always amazed at how he would climb the tallest trees and sit for hours just watching the sky, with a strong urging.
One steamy windless summer afternoon, twelve year-old Tremaine sought refuge from the heat through his favorite past-time, a walk in the woods to his sacred grove. He loved nothing more than to bathe in the ambient shade of the forest. Strolling blissfully down his habitual path, he suddenly halted, struck by the terror of what he did not see. His beloved grove of cherrybark oak trees was obliterated - cut down to wide circular meter-high stumps. A half-acre of tall robust shade bearing trees heartlessly laid to waste. The devastation felt more like a desecration piercing his heart and soul. The felled tree trunks were nowhere in sight. Instead, an enormous yellow machine on tractor wheels dominated the landscape. This monster perpetrator had sawed down and devoured his living treasures. Across it's long body, the word, “Treeminator” boldly stated its purpose.
Trembling with anger and despair, Tree approached the vehicles elevated cab section and stretched his small frame to reach up and climb the ladder, seeking the operator. Reaching the top of the ladder, he clearly saw that the cab was empty, as the vehicle 's engine sat in cold silence. He feigned a half-swallow, pooled together and launched an angry wad of spit at the cab's window. Satisfied, he climbed down to the ground. Determined to confront the desecrator face to face, he located the stump of his favorite tree and sat upon its surface, crossing his legs and arms with resolve. But a short while later, Tremaine curled up on the stump like an infant, softly sobbing himself to sleep.
Meanwhile, Granny Lethia was calling upon her neighbors to keep a lookout for Tremaine. Frantic with worry, she did not wait long before alerting the authorities, later that evening. The police soon joined the neighbors searching for Tremaine well into the dark moonless night – to no avail. After sunrise on the next morning, the Treeminator crew returned to find Tremaine sound asleep on that very same stump. The crew astutely alerted the police to this seemingly lost boy.
Granny Lethia was sitting in a rocking chair on the large front porch waiting anxiously, as she sighted a police SUV turn into her driveway. Seeing Tremaine jump out of the vehicle, her brief sense of relief was stifled by a flash of anger. A police officer also got out of the vehicle and slowly followed, allowing Tremaine to receive his welcome home.
“Trey, where in God's name were you, I was worried sick to death. Folks all over the neighborhood been looking for you.”
“Granny, they cut down my best trees. All of 'em down to the stump! They can't get away with that and the police ...”
“Hush up now boy,” Granny demanded. At that moment, the police officer stood directly behind Tremaine.
“No harm done ma'am. Some tree workers found him asleep at their work site. The boy woke up mad as a hornet. I suggest you keep him closer to home for a while. That's about all I have to say. I'll leave the rest to you. Have a nice day ma'am.” The officer briefly shot a warning glare at Tremaine as he turned to walk back to his vehicle.
“Boy, what makes you think you can just go around causing trouble like this?”
“I'm sorry Granny, but my trees! They were my trees!
Granny Lethia slowly lifted her right hand to her heart and sat back in her porch rocking chair with a deep breath...
“I mean, Granny,” Tremain reconsidered. “My trees, they looked out for me, but I didn't look out for them.”
“Well, I guess you have good reason, but your reasoning ain't holding no water with me boy. For now, I'll just plant you in the back yard where I can keep an eye on you, Tree Mays. You are grounded until I say otherwise. Now get used to hanging 'round your tree friends out back.” When folks in town inquired about his adventure that day, Granny would just say, “My Tremain turned out to be a Tree.” So the nickname stuck to him like tree bark.
In school, Tree excelled in science and his passion for ecology was fostered by his Granddad Lee who was a veterinarian and a farmer, descendant of Georgia farmers. In fact, the land they lived on had been handed down for generations. The family knew how to take care of the land and they instilled this passion in Tree, as well. As soon as he could walk, Tremaine followed Granddad Lee around the farm all day, everyday. When he learned to talk, there were always questions and more questions, “Grandpa why don’t we plant cotton this season?”
“Tremaine, we need to give the ground a rest this season by planting soybeans to help replenish nutrients in the soil. I still work the land as my grandfather did. Even in this day of technology, if we take care of the earth, it will take care of us.”
While still in secondary school, Tree was recruited by the REEL Rangers Institute to study the environmental sciences. He eventually joined the environmental corps, working around the globe. His passion fueled his dauntless determination. Tree's life became his passion, living as a forestry steward, helping to safeguard fragile ecosystems. Since childhood, Tree identified with this prime motivation, making him a fierce and formidable ecology advocate.
Yongbyon, Korea (former Yongbyon, North Korea nuclear complex)
Sophie Lavoie, Aerospace Engineer, eased herself down into the pilot seat of the almond-shaped air car, Hummingbird. Powered by electromagnetic propulsion (EMP), Hummingbird could ascend hundreds of meters to hover motionless while surveying in any direction. Sunlight reflecting from the metallic green body made the air car appear to shimmer and oscillate, mimicking a hummingbird in mid-air. Extending four meters from its nose cone like a long cannon was the Magnetic Current Resonator. The MCR’s cylindrical module was mounted in direct line of sight from the cockpit where Sophie was positioned to operate the device. The device was the first prototype, untested in the field. Facing the control panel, Sophie lifted her helmet visor methodically to allow the retinal scan to flash a beam of light into her coral-blue eyes, instantly logging her into the Hummingbird operating system.
As her eyes examined the control panel her mind wandered back to her eighteenth birthday gift from her mom and dad - a snow-terrain hover-sled. Sophie had been the first teenager in Sainte-Agathe-des-Monts, Québec, to own a hover-sled, designed to fly a meter above the snow and ice terrain. Driving the hover-sled she nicknamed Solange, Sophie felt empowered and liberated. During that winter in Québec, she explored the Laurentian Mountains at reckless speeds, testing the limits of the vehicle, as well as her piloting skills. “Thank God my parents couldn't see me!”
The cab of the Hummingbird was snug all around, giving her a sensual pleasure she had not imagined since those youthful thrills in the hover-sled. The Hummingbird cab felt amazingly similar and she smiled to herself as she input system protocols to prepare for testing the device.
This was the first field test of the Magnetic Current Resonator, which created a virtual magnetic current designed to shield against ionizing radiation leaking through storage casks. The MCR was developed to render inert the ionizing radiation emitted from high-level radioactive waste from dry storage casks produced as a byproduct of nuclear weapons production. The energy required to isolate the radiation was prohibitive. If this device could safely seal these high-level nuclear waste casks, even temporarily, the global community would breathe easier.
“Control Center to Test pilot, verify your status,” Luis Ramirez alerted Sophie in her helmet radio. As acting mission leader, Luis stiffly followed protocol, even though he and Sophie shared a close friendship.
“All systems check, ready to proceed Lu… I mean Control Center,” responded Sophie, eager to fire up the device.
“Test Pilot proceed to containment grid number eight and await instructions,” Luis ordered.
“Roger that, Control Center,” Sophie truly wanted to chuckle at Luis’ official demeanor, but thought better of it. “Might as well let him enjoy this, ‘cause I’m the one having all the fun,” she thought. Sophie lifted off without hesitation flying the MCR in minutes to firing position forty meters above containment grid number eight where a dozen huge steel casks stood vertically on a concrete pad.
“In position and powering up MCR. Targeting the storage units. Awaiting permission to discharge the device,” Sophie could barely hold herself back from blasting the target with a virtual magnetic current.
“Test pilot, discharge for ten seconds when ready,” Luis commanded.
Without a verbal response, Sophie opened fire on the target for ten seconds, hearing a loud whining sound from the module without seeing any visual effect at the target. Then a momentary flash of white light emanated from the target platform below.
“Test pilot to Control Center. I saw a quick flash, then nothing. What happened?”
“Copy that test pilot. We registered a magnetic charge but not the surge of magnetic current we expected. Prepare for another dis… stand by test pilot.” Luis cut off abruptly.
“Test Pilot, terminate mission and return to base, immediately” ordered Luis.
“What did you say? Terminate? Luis what the hell is going on down there, we’re in test mode!” Sophie exclaimed.
“Sophie, we have orders to abort this mission, please comply?” Luis implored.
“Roger that, dammit. Luis your orders better be from God on high or else!” Sophie snapped.
Luis Ramirez, also steaming mad, saw his vision blur as his mounting blood pressure activated his bio-monitor alert signal. Luis paused to inhale a gradual measured breath, acutely aware of the bio-monitor, which was worn by each Ranger in the field. The fact that Division Chief Carvallo himself called with the order to abort, only intensified his bafflement. A mission of this magnitude, aborted?
Luis, a nuclear physicist for the IRRD, joined the Rangers just two years ago. In that short span he had designed and engineered the MCR, which he unofficially named Haymaker. Not the typical Ranger adventurer, Luis worked for three years as a scientist for the CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research. After submitting numerous “anonymous” suggestions on REEL Rangers Eco-Blog, Tree had tracked down the source and offered Luis an opportunity to contribute to the discussions from within. In truth he told Luis to stop wasting his time with scientists and accomplish something that doesn’t take decades to make happen.
At the age of 32 Luis ascended to Team Leader, Research & Development for IRRD and an accomplished scientist, at the top of his game. Right now his anger was peaking as he sent an urgent alert to Tree by genie-ware, the synthetic skin computer-communicator that could be adapted to any part of the body. The genie-ware could even develop its own software applications based on a cursory description of the operations requested.
“Luis, sorry bro’, I got blind-sided by Carvallo too - didn’t even know he had intervened with you and Sophie, already. I’ll make it up to you Luis. Guaranteed! As for Sophie, I’ll be wearing a titanium groin cup when she greets me in Cheyenne. Hey Luis, Human Resources is alerting me, see you there,” Tree signed off.
Space Exploration Administration (SEA), Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, United North American States (UNAS)
Tree, Sophie and Luis, clad in bulky padded silver flight suits stepped into the elevator cage that would carry them ten kilometers down the Linear Accelerator Launch Tunnel to the Auriga V spacecraft. Silently, the elevator began its slow descent. Luis stood mesmerized with sheer awe and terror, peering downward, unable to see bottom of the tunnel that was dimly illuminated with a thin circular band of fluorescent green every ten meters. Clutching both hands at the metallic rim at the neck of his flight suit, Luis pulled gasping for air. Clammy and constricted, he recalled his mother's warning from only hours earlier at her home in Denver, “Luis, do not go up there, you cannot go. It's not a place for you to go.” Yet, here he stood at the precipice of his worst nightmare, with no escape, confined to cramped quarters for days on end with no fresh air to breathe.
“Sophie, the way you described this launch, I’m not sure the word discomforting is appropriate. You’re saying that we’re basically going to be stowed on the Auriga V in containers of jelly to keep us from turning into jelly when we launch through this linear accelerator like a bat out of hell?” Luis illustrated his understanding.
“Very good description Luis. Except that when we exit the tunnel, it will actually be more like a bolt of lightning. The energy field generated by the accelerator will help to shield us from atmospheric friction, once we exit the tunnel. We’ll be safe, but we’ll make a hell of a light show out there,” Sophie expounded adding a bit of humor. Luis stared blankly, eyes empty of awareness.
“Luis ... Luis? You OK, dude?” questioned Tree.
“Does he look OK to you, Tree?” Sophie interjected. She then pivoted directly facing Luis, blocking Tree’s view and delicately slid her firm hands inside Luis' open helmet to either side of his temples, pressing gently. “Look at me Luis, only look at me,” she insisted. Luis stared into her coral blue eyes and suddenly felt immersed in the ocean gazing out into the endless sea. The sensation of floating, yet breathing normally, comforted him like a child in a wading pool bobbing on a rubber raft. Luis relaxed his muscles and drifted into semi-wakefulness for only moments that seemed go on and on. “Luis do you see me now?” Just as suddenly, Luis found himself staring into Sophie’s eyes, fully awake and at ease.
“Sophie,” Tree whispered into her ear, “How did you hypnotize him like that?”
Rolling her eyes sharply at Tree, as a warning. She spoke directly at Luis, “All I did was help you push your anxiety from the foreground to the background, Luis. It's still there, but you won't be able to focus on it for a while. I gave you a kind of psychological sedative.”
“Cool. Whatever that was, Sophie, save some for later. I just might need it up there,” Luis added.
Tree could not resist the urge to tease, “Yeah Sophie, save me some of that talk, touch and eye-taser technique, just in case I start shaking in my boots.” In response, Sophie delivered a hard right elbow directly back to Tree's solar plexus, doubling him over.
Within ten minutes, they reached the crew cabin of the single-stage-to-orbit launch vehicle as the mission control voice chimed within their helmet speakers, “T-minus 30 minutes and counting. All systems check. Prepare to launch. All systems go.”