Fortress Farm Trilogy: Volumes 1, 2 & 3 (Fortress Farm Series) Read online

  Contents

  Prologue – The Case for Continuity

  Key Figures and Terms of Fortress Farm

  Book One – The Pullback

  Book Two – Shield of the Okaw

  Book Three – Red Hawk Rising

  North American Caliphate – Brief History

  Jenkins Family Dilemma

  Fruit of the Valley

  Prologue - The Case for Continuity

  New York City

  United Nations Compound

  Three Years before the Great Reset

  Nervous chatter bounced off the great hall’s priceless marble floors. Bright sunshine piercing in through crystal clear blast proof windows highlighting the rich grain of walls made from the rarest wood on the planet. Soaring forty foot ceilings trimmed in gold and offset by skylights seemed to swallow specific words, but served to amplify the noise volume of heavily accented English voices. Impeccably dressed people milled about making small talk with forced smiles, exchanging false pleasantries; each family and organization present trained for generations in diplomatic deceit.

  Powerful groups ruled the known world in part or in whole, even in antiquity. The Egyptians did, as did the Byzantines and Han, the Holy Roman Empire and its successors. More recently the British Empire connected the world’s diverse peoples from one horizon to the next; a skill passed on and perfected by its most successful offspring rooted in Washington’s Federal District. But through the millennia those far flung empires, even with all their earthly power, received guidance by an even more exclusive cadre. Secular or religious, those that ruled the masses answered to others unseen behind a veil of secrecy.

  Gathered in this immaculately appointed room were those who set in motion currents that swept up the entire planet. Impatiently they checked million dollar time pieces while glancing over at ten foot high doors separating them from an inner sanctum. Today they were the ones being made to wait; something few dared to risk outside of this chamber.

  The grand doors finally swung open, each pushed by identically uniformed young men. Their livery was unique, worn by less than 200 warriors specially selected from elite fighting forces around the world. Each owed loyalty to a sponsor in this room - young people whose families relished the honor of exposure to the most powerful men and women on the planet. Their faces were impassive, but the eyes were wide, as though mentally recording each and every sight and sound.

  Two men stepped through the doors with the confidence of nearly absolute power. One wore a western style business suit perfectly tailored over his six foot frame. His Asian features were only slightly obscured by oversized glasses that gave his whole eye a tinge of red, the telltale sign of glasses capable of more than just reading.

  On the other side was a man with a perfectly manicured black moustache, made more distinctive by the bright keffiyeh framing his olive tone. Long, white flowing robes swished along the floor hiding his strides. He was tall compared to the rest of his fellow princes, two of which watched him from the corner of the room, and who themselves averaged six inches taller than their malnourished subjects. His red tinted eyes matched the Asian man’s, though his glass lenses were held in a more stylish gold rimmed frame.

  Following just a few steps behind the first two came a man immediately requiring the attention of the entire room. His mocha colored skin blended perfectly with the well fit dark navy business suit - though most in the room would recognize the garments as off the rack instead of specially tailored. Towering over most everyone at six and a half feet tall, he seemed to make eye contact with the entire assembly at the same time, immediately bringing to a halt any conversations that lingered after the grand entrance.

  Without a word of small talk, he glided over to the massive wood and ivory conference table positioned perfectly in the middle of the space. Thirty-four high backed leather chairs surrounded the giant circular structure specifically designed to prevent seating hierarchy. Everyone was supposed to be equal here, though some seemed more equal than others…

  “Let me call this meeting to order,” the leading man said. “I think all of you know me well enough by now, but as a reminder my name is Dr. Herman Johnson, currently Secretary of the Interior for the United States. To my left is the honorable Premier Guangwu of the Asia Pacific Alliance and to my right, Prince Talal, leader of the Free Princes of Arabia.”

  Nods and smiles made their way around the table.

  “I apologize for keeping you all waiting, I know your time is very valuable. Premier Guangwu and Prince Talal needed to view the data you all had access to previously. They are now up to speed with the rest of us, so without any further delay we can proceed to the next presentation from UNOAA,” Johnson said.

  Overhead lights dimmed as a 3D hologram appeared in the middle of the table, viewable by all as though directed right at them.

  From the display, a middle aged woman in a lab coat pulled off her glasses, revealing a concerned smile. She gave a slight tilt of her head practiced a thousand times in funding reviews as she began to speak. “Honored guests, my name is Dr. Jamie Rice, Director of the United Nations Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, UNOAA for short. By now you all know solar storms have been bombarding the Earth in recent years. Scientists from around the globe have spent millions of hours, and equivalent resources, studying the phenomena. After analyzing the data, and utilizing historical records provided by your archives, we know that this cycle will be followed by a severe reduction in solar radiation.” Heads nodded around the room. Johnson had provided this information in a previous brief, though few truly understood the specifics of the science.

  She continued, “Even my esteemed colleagues here at UNOAA don’t understand everything that’s happening or why, but we are 100% certain that severe climate change is at our doorstep because of our Sun’s actions. Or, well, the lack of action I guess I should say.”

  The scientist paused, letting her language sink in. Nations, cultures and tribes represented here all worshiped the sun as a god at some point in their history. The most skeptical atheist among them understood why, even those who subscribed to different faiths. The Sun’s power over life and death dominated the physical world. As if to illustrate the point, the display pulsated with animated of waves of warmth washing over Earth. The waves became less frequent and changed from a warm yellow to a cooler blue.

  “The Sun is going into a sustained period of inactivity. Temperatures on our planet will necessarily drop by several degrees. That may not sound like much, but the fact is we are approaching the dawn of a new ice age. The full effects won’t be felt for at least a few generations, but shorter growing seasons and severe contagious disease will be felt immediately,” she concluded.

  A hush overcame the room with nervous glances. Clearly some had questions, but no one spoke until Secretary Johnson opened the floor. “Dr. Rice, that’s quite a shocking and abrupt statement. I think I can speak for everyone when I ask this question, what can the people in this room do to stop this from happening?”

  “In short Secretary Johnson…nothing.”

  Murmurs began to ripple. Each person present could influence billions even trillions of dollars, changing the lives of countless people with a single decision. Being faced with a force beyond their control provided an uncomfortable check on their own mortality.

  Premier Guangwu spoke up, “Dr. Rice, surely you recognize the resources and technical expertise represented in this room. We’re already making progress in combating the solar storms, are we not?” Guangwu asked in near perfect English acquired from the western education of his youth.


  “Premier, please forgive my bluntness, I was not attempting to insult the capabilities of my colleagues in the scientific community. To further explain the findings of our research, let me bring in one of my partners instrumental in temperature modeling, Dr. Dennis Small.”

  Another face appeared in the display, hovering right next to Rice. “Greetings to all of you from Luna, our newest nation, population seventy-seven!” More whispers of excitement came from the crowd. Powerful people weren’t often surprised and today seemed full of those.

  Dr. Small continued, “Since being upgraded to UNASA, we’ve been accelerating priority projects with your additional funding. Solar storms reminded us humanity exists at the mercy of the Sun. For the survival of our species, we must begin to establish colonies on other planets. For that to be effective we have to understand how solar radiation affects each prospective off-Earth base. Our facility on Luna and the partnering network of satellites allow us to study the intensive impact the Sun has on near space, charting activity so that we can develop a plan to cope.”

  The man’s smile disappeared, turning his face somber. “We were fortunate our research uncovered the drop in solar activity. Without that knowledge humanity would face possible extinction. However, knowing catastrophe is imminent doesn’t change the options we have for surviving it. The temperature on Earth is going to drop dramatically and there’s nothing we can do to change that.”

  Johnson spoke up, “Dr. Small, before everyone here becomes completely despondent, tell them what you told me when we first spoke about this.”

  “Well, that’s the good news for our species. Certain regions of the world will be just fine. Nearer the equator, climates will be more temperate, and so quite habitable. In past solar cycles - we now know what to look for in the archeological record to recognize how often this has occurred in the past - human populations migrated from place to place as the climate changed. Some of our esteemed colleagues reside in parts of the world bordering the Sahara desert. The whole Sahara was once a lush grassland before the climate changed. Likely it will teem with life again someday. So the human race will survive, albeit on a much smaller scale.”

  For a scientist, the last statement was one of comfort. Those studying the natural world looked through the lens of multiple generations. Species survival was a general term. But to those occupying positions of power, their most pressing concern was that of their own survival, and the survival of their progeny.

  “How much smaller scale, Dr. Small?” Prince Talal asked testily.

  “That’s really Dr. Rice’s expertise, sir. I can tell you what’s happening but she can explain the ramifications. I’m more of the space based kind of guy. Jamie, would you answer that?”

  “I’d say no more than about 700 million could survive in the new climate, but that’s probably stretching it. Still, if you think about it, that’s still a really solid number to ensure the gene pool. That’s about the population of the world a few hundred years ago. New technology should allow us to sustain under a billion even in a much smaller geographic footprint than we have now,” Rice concluded confidently.

  “You’re talking about a 90% reduction in human population, Dr. Rice. Nine out of every ten people being dead! When will this occur?” Prince Talal demanded.

  “Well these things don’t happen overnight. We’re talking about generations before you see thick ice sheets forming. But certainly the temperature drop will begin quickly. Almost immediately you’ll see growing seasons becoming shorter and animal populations beginning to change. Our ability to feed everyone will be compromised very soon. I fear that panic will set in among the masses once this information becomes public,” Rice said.

  Johnson stood up. “Let’s hold on a moment. Everyone, please,” he said above the confusion and shouts. “I’m afraid we’re slipping back into pessimism. We’ve all faced tough decisions before, and we certainly face some now. But remember we’ve recognized the problem in the early stages. That gives us a distinct advantage over our predecessors.”

  “But the scientists have just told us there is nothing to do be done,” Guangwu said. Recently gaining control of a trade federation stretching from Japan to Thailand and west to Manchuria gave him sway over nearly 25% of the world’s GDP. Finding out that a lifetime of aspiration was now threatened left his normally unshakable confidence rattled.

  “No, they said there is nothing that can be done about the temperature drops. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do to ensure the successful survival of our species,” Johnson retorted.

  He nodded to the display in the middle of the table, and instinctually both scientists reached up and turned off their communication links. The room was now back to just dignitaries and their guards.

  “We can accept the inevitable, can we not? So now we must manage the way the inevitable comes to pass,” Johnson said. “Fortunately inevitable and imminent are not the same thing. We have time to make sure this reduction is done in an orderly manner.”

  He glanced back over at the 3-D display, directing a new image with his smart contact lenses. A few around the table recognized what he was doing, instantly jealous for the as of yet unobtainable technology.

  A map of the globe appeared, with arrows moving down from the north and up from the south, seeming to all end the middle third of the globe. “Our population today is hemmed in by borders and supply chains.” Johnson stared at different points on the map, creating circles with labels bearing the names of the groups seated at the table. “We need to relocate those most important to the areas with the highest chance of success.”

  “Playing real estate agent now, Johnson?” a nasal voice with an aristocratic accent asked from behind the display. Instantly, a picture of the voice’s owner appeared above the globe. The face flushed as she realized the image was real time, modeled by hidden sensors around the room.

  “In a way Ambassador Dubois, in a way. I’m here to propose that we move our most valuable citizens into what will become the temperate areas. The best and brightest must continue on, in order to keep the spark of knowledge,” Johnson replied calmly.

  Dubois snorted. “Bloody helluva time getting people to share their nosh with others, eh? How do you expect people to give up their property so their betters can come move next to them? Especially when our own experts are telling you that nine out of ten breeders have to go off? I don’t imagine your NRA types will be much pleased!”

  Heads nodded again, but Johnson calmly stared out at the crowd. Inside his mind, names popped up above each person he looked at, his contact lenses accessing each person’s information profile.

  Johnson quickly accessed Dubois’, searching for a comparative illustration. Finding what he sought he replied: “Ambassador, when you needed to bring Scotland back into line after the independence vote, how did you persuade them?”

  “Cut their power off,” Dubois said with a smile. “No light, no heat, no internet for four weeks. Quite the social experiment. They said they could make it on their own, so we gave them the chance to prove it!”

  “What did you see when your police finally got back control of Glasgow?” Johnson asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Hmm, well, total chaos. We expected them to be shivering cold and miserable and ready to admit we were right. Even the most pessimistic members of the Cabinet never expected them to turn on each other the way they did. We’ll have to remember to be a bit lighter handed in the future, we lost most of the important infrastructure and something like 25% of the population. Still not really sure about that because many fled to the rural areas and we haven’t been able to get them to come back in. Cost a bloody fortune to rebuild, but worth it in the long run I suppose. Weeded out the nationalist types pretty quick,” Dubois concluded.

  Johnson was prepared with another question. “What if you had left the power off for five years?”

  “A bit hypothetical isn’t it? The goal was control, not annihilation, what? The whole lands
cape would have been empty but for some savages in city ruins and pockets of farmers holding out…” Dubois’s face froze, realizing where Johnson was leading.

  Guangwu came to the same conclusion simultaneously. “You’re proposing we shut off the power for five years for a mass die off? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” he asked in classic Asian understatement.

  “Would you rather line people up and shoot them?” Talal asked with a chuckle and a wave. He was already on board with whatever solution Johnson might propose. Consequently, he was also trying to figure out how he could ride out the five year stretch in the base on Luna, secretly paid for through his global hedge fund.

  Guangwu became more combative with the dismissal. “I’m suggesting we try to figure out a way to save our citizens instead of killing them off!”

  “They’re already dead,” Dubois broke in. “Rice and Small told us as much. And if not now from disease, in a generation from starvation. There’s no way to feed them all now economically, and if we let nature take its course, who’s to say that we don’t get another outbreak of infectious diseases. I’m talking Black Death type pathogens. That’s what happened in the Little Ice Age, right? This is worse. And there’s no way we’ll be able to make sure that only the best of us survive in that circumstance.”

  The ambassador’s logic sunk in. Even Guangwu silently admitted there was little choice. The population had to be reduced quickly. There was no arguing the simple math.

  “Everyone here agreed long ago humans were having a terrible impact on the environment; maybe this was nature’s way of balancing things out?” Johnson continued. “We’ve all used eminent domain for the greater good right? Well this is for the good of Earth, even if it might be a little difficult in the short run.” The last few holdouts started nodding, picturing idyllic landscapes wiped clean of the human parasites they detested.