The Sun was already hot and the sky would have been blue if it had not been for the volcanic haze that hung over the whole of the Eastern Mediterranean Sea. The fact was that the haze actually made the heat seem greater and the nights had become almost unbearable, few could sleep well. Construction workers had been working here for the past ten days, building the first of the refugee camps for the Ethiopians, who would start arriving this very day. The buildings were especially designed for the purpose, each had solar-sheet roofs that generated more than enough energy for a family of six and enough left over to charge the bio-batteries contained in the walls. The bio-batteries and the high- yield solar roofs were both developed by the Pickles Organisation. The walls themselves were made of Thermo-rock, a material that shielded the homes from extremes in temperature, an technological extension of fibreglass, developed by the Pilkington Corporation in the UK. Thermo-rock acted as a shield in strong sunlight converting it to energy, and in winter absorbed the light and radiated it as heat on the interior. The buildings themselves came equipped with cooking facilities, seating, tables and sleeping area, and were easily convertible for two, four, six or eight person families.
Jed Fairclough, an Yorkshireman, had worked for the IFOR organisation for almost twenty years and was due to retire in two years time. Previously Jed had been a construction engineer and had managed high profile building projects from the Gibraltar Bridge to two- kilometre high Breck Tower in Chicago. Jed looked at his watch, 'they're late' he thought, and he was strict on punctuality, the first thousand homes were ready and he wanted them filled. Just as he thought it he heard the unmistakable sound of a transporter heading in from the east. Jed's head tilted up towatd the eastern sky, and there, as yet just dots against the white haze, were a swarm of insect-like vehicles. Jed hurried to the landing area, where he found the welcoming party of officials, which were outnumbered by the press representatives.
The first transporter touched down at eleven-fifteen, in a cloud of dust, it took minutes before the dust settled and the hatch opened. The first out was a priest, who had been appointed the official spokesperson, he stepped down and immediately fell to his hands and knees, then kissed the dusty earth in thanksgiving. The junior minister for Home Affairs strode forward and took the priest's hand, then turned to the media.
“It has been several thousand years since our Ethiopian brothers and sisters left us for a new land, but they have never ceased to be a part of the Jewish family, and we welcome you back in this hour of need, with open arms,” the minister announced, “Now please follow your stewards to your new, albeit temporary, homes. We trust that you will be comfortable, and find God in this place.”
As the minister walked back to the group the other transporters started to land and threw up a sand-storm of dust. The stewards came forward COM-pads in hand, finding their charges and guiding them away to their designated dwellings. Jed would visit some of the families later to get their views on the accommodation that IFOR had provided. As he walked away down one of the avenues he heard a distant whine in the air, he did not need to think about it, he had heard that sound before. Jed turned and ran back toward the landing area, as he ran he shouted. “Get down, incoming rocket, hit the deck now!”
The people around did not react immediately but stood as if stunned. Then all at once everyone reacted as the rocket screamed overhead, and dropped to the ground. The rocket exploded just short of the landing area, for seconds there was complete silence, then the scream and and cries started. Many people were obviously dead and many more injured, among the dead were the priest and two of the officials, the missile had also destroyed some hundred and twenty of the accommodations.
The ambulance-LIMOs were there eight minutes later and three minutes after that the the fighters of the Israeli Air-force screamed overhead heading towards the south-east. A military LIMO landed close to the landing area and set up a Mk 6 Iron Fist unit to protect the site from further attack. The resettlement continued, but with a very nervous first group of Ethiopians, who despite the assurances, from the military commanders, that there was nothing more to fear, looked forward to several sleepless nights and eyes that constantly scanned the eastern sky.
Heidi Goldbloom was furious, she paced up and down her not inconsiderable office space whilst Ben Marks sat and watched drumming his fingers on the heal of his right shoe.
“How dare they attack innocent refuges,” the Prime Minister stormed, “I have had it with these Palestinians, they just want everything their way with no thought for others.”
Over a half hour ago they had placed a call to the Palestinian prime minister and were told that he would call them back within minutes, that was thirty-seven and a half minutes ago and they were still waiting.
“We are most probably dealing with a renegade group and Aiden is hopefully trying to find some information,”suggested Ben.
“You really think that Ben?”
“No, but we have to keep ourselves objective,” he said. “Huh! I am done with objectivity where those bandits that call themselves a government are concerned,”
Heidi offered.
Just then the desk COM warbled, Goldbloom hit the soft-button like a bullet. “Yes!” she spat.
“Madam Prime Minister, this is Aiden al-Qurashi, I believe you wished to talk with me, my apologies for the delay, but I was involved in something,” said the Palestinian Prime Minister.
“Does that 'something' include attacking innocent refugees by any chance,” asked Goldbloom with a sarcastic edge to her voice.
“Ah yes, I did see something on CNN about some explosion,” Aiden said with an equal amount of animosity.
“What in the name of heaven are you trying to do, turn the world against you yet again, these were refugees from Ethiopia who have lost their homes with the eruptions,” Goldbloom said accusingly.
“Yes, refugees, Madam prime Minister, and Jews, all my people see is Israel doing some population building, they see you trying to outnumber our people even more and then claim more land that is by right ours. Can I ask, where will all these people be eventually housed, more settlements?”
“You knew about this attack, didn't you al-Qurashi,” she accused, “your answer is just too easy off your tongue.”
“Think what you like Madam,” sighed Aiden, “you destroy our second most sacred site and you expect us to ask how high you want us to jump.”
“You know of course, that our air-force destroyed the launch site and those who launched the missile,” Goldbloom informed the Palestinian PM, “and be sure that any further attempt to attack us will be met with deadly force. Good-day Prime Minister.
Heidi Goldbloom hit the soft-button again and dropped into her chair.
“Ben, get a squadron of Golem V's stationed near the refugee camp full time, as quickly as we can, and a mobile satellite monitoring unit, with all the support personnel and equipment.”
“We can do that,” agreed Ben, “but we may be leaving ourselves a little thin on the ground to protect the borders.”
“If that is the case, I think it's time to call up the reserves, can we get some more fighters out of moth- balls,” Heidi asked.
“We have two squadrons of the Eurofighter-Meteor, but they are seventeen years old and old weapons technology, there is also a limited amount of fuel available, they burn kerosene, not liquid hydrogen.” Ben informed his PM.
“Can we get more fuel from someone?”
“Only the US has kept reserve stocks in any quantity, maybe you could ask President Orwell if he can release some, under the circumstances, he may be open to a suggestion from you.”
“Agreed!”