He was about to pour himself another when a small vibration shook the transport, the fine crystal tumblers in the bar playing a soft tune as they clinked against one another. He waited, praying it was only turbulence of some sort. Moments later a deep reverberation passed through the entire structure, like a bass drum being pounded on, the sound of the airframe twisting and bending making him suddenly cold. With a sigh he took one last look at the bottle, returning it to the bar lovingly and racing back to the flight deck, his footing unstable as the shaking became more pronounced, violent, forcing him to grasp at passenger seats to keep himself steady.
Stumbling in the cabin Bobby found the pilot fighting for control, his hands a blur over the projected display, the song under his breath taking on a discordant note. “I thought you said not to worry about a thing,” said Bobby with a tight-lipped smile, falling into the copilot’s seat and clicking the harness into place.
“Sorry, sir. I’ve lost power on the Odin’s main thruster. We're losing speed and altitude. I’m having trouble keeping the nose up.”
Bobby held the copilot's chair with a white-knuckled grip and for a moment felt weightless while the Odin lost altitude with a horrid jolt, the shaking growing more pronounced. “Do you know what's causing the problem? I thought you said the airframe of this thing was indestructible.”
“It is!” said the pilot, waving away redundant warning images with his free hand before grabbing a small holo image of the transport and throwing it up on the main projector.
“There isn’t any damage I can see,” said the pilot, rotating the projection of the Odin for Bobby to see. “From what I can tell, all systems look normal; power is flowing to the thruster—”
“Wait! What's that?” asked Bobby, taking control of the image and spreading his hands apart to enlarge the section he was talking about. “It looks like there is some sort of heat buildup in one of the plasma exhaust ports; it's creating a feedback loop of some kind, throwing the whole system out of alignment.”
The pilot’s eyes darted away from the controls to focus on the projection, his brow furrowing as he studied the glowing dot on the image while the Odin shook. “That system is deep in the thruster array. It’s engineered to withstand double the heat output and pressure that normal operations require. It would be impossible to damage unless we were hit by a weapon.”
Bobby was about to speak when a golden streak raced past the outside of the plane, so bright he raised a hand to shield his eyes. “Andrew,” he whispered, his hand drifting to his side, brushing against the jagged hole on his coat, still sticky with his blood on some parts.
“Andrew? You mean that's a person flying out there!” said the pilot, his gaze fixed on the glowing beacon of energy pulling away from them.
“Yes, he’s like me, very powerful,” began Bobby, seeing the questioning look in the pilot’s eyes. “He can turn all or parts of his body into different wavelengths of electromagnetic energy. I guess we can stop trying to figure out what happened, because he must have done something to the thruster.”
The pilot fought with the controls, his face contorted into a grimace. “Well, whatever he did, I can’t stabilize this thing, and at this speed it means were as good as dead.”
As if to punctuate his words the transport rocked violently, straining the harness holding him in his seat. “C’mon, we have to get out of here!” said Bobby, shouting to be heard as alarms blared overhead, the holoprojection of the Odin flashing a bright red.
Beside him the pilot frowned, shaking his head. “We can’t just do that, sir. The Odin isn’t like a plane, there are no wings to provide lift, it stays up by thrust alone, the more power we lose the less control we’re gonna have. If I leave the stick she goes into a flat spin, and if that happens there's no way out: we’ll both be crushed.”
Bobby wondered if he could survive a plane crash. Ascension had made him much tougher, his skin able to shrug off most small-arms fire, and he didn’t doubt he could make it to an emergency exit even if the transport was spinning in free fall. Looking into the other man’s panic-stricken face, he saw the last thing he ever expected to see: hope. “Are there parachutes on this thing, or an ejection system?”
“No parachutes. Accidents usually happen during takeoff or landing, and most people have no clue how to jump out of a plane without killing themselves.”
“Okay, what about an ejection system?” asked Bobby, his voice taking on a hysterical tone as the Odin dipped forward, starting to dive.
“There is an ejection system for the command capsule were in,” he said frowning. “But it doesn’t—”
“Then eject! Get us the hell outta here!”
“It’s not working!” screamed the pilot, pounding on the panel in front of him. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t get power to the maglock system.”
Bobby stood, gripping hard to the back of his chair as he fought to steady himself. “Is there any way to release it manually?”
“Yes, yes, there's a hydraulic release for when the ship is powered down to do repairs and maintenance, but it's impossible for one person to unlock. It takes an industrial robot to move it,” he said, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry. I can make it happen,” said Bobby.
“Okay, if you say so. There are two of them, one on each side of the cabin—here and here. You have to remove the cover to get to them,” he said, indicating a spot on the holoprojection a few feet into the main cabin.
“Sit tight. I can do it,” said Bobby, heading for the door, the shriek of the Odin plummeting to the earth urging him on.
“You’ll have about thirty seconds once you’ve unlocked the system to get back here, after that, the emergency engines fire, and the cabin separates from the main body.”
Giving the other man a brief nod he hurried into the main cabin, pulling himself along unsteadily until he came to the first panel. With a grunt he tore it from the wall, revealing a series of mechanical wiring and a wide-handled release. Grasping it with both hands he braced his feet against the wall and pulled, his arms straining as the lever inched down ever so slowly, the resistance increasing the farther down it went. Then, in a lurch, it came away, falling into position with a hollow clang and the terrifying sound of metal grinding against metal.
Wiping the sweat from his eyes Bobby stumbled across the width of the Odin, ducking and dodging flying items not tied down and made weightless by their free fall. Tearing away the other panel he repeated the process, pulling with all he had, knowing every moment wasted, they were closer to the ground. When the release slammed into place he blew out his cheeks, a wave of tension fleeing his body. Not wasting a moment he bolted for the cockpit, swearing under his breath as flashes of light and smoke shot out from the sides of the airframe near the entryway to the flight deck. Shouldering his way through the door, the pilot gave him thumbs-up, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Strap in, sir. Believe it or not, it’s gonna be a wild ride from here!” he shouted over alarms.
Looking over at the man, Bobby raised an eyebrow, returning his smile. “You gotta be kidding me right? How much worse can it get?”
Without warning the Odin was rocked, throwing him violently from his seat and slamming him face first against the deck plates, followed a moment later by a deafening series of explosions that made his breath catch in his throat as the capsule was ejected, the rear of the Odin falling away.
Pulling himself to his feet, he fell into the copilot's chair, hurriedly strapping himself in, the sun nearly blinding him as the command deck leveled off.
“You should have put on the safety harness before you tried to redecorate the flight deck with your face, sir”
Despite the near death experience and the embarrassment, Bobby began to laugh, small little tremors at first, before breaking into a full-throated belly laugh.
Running a hand across his face he gave the pilot a warm smile. “Don’t call me sir; my friends call me Bobby,” he said, shoving out a hand by
way of introduction.
The pilot smiled, firmly taking his hand. “Carter, James Carter. Good to know you.”
“Well, James, can we still make it to Utah in this thing.”
The pilot’s nimble hands ran over the holographic interface, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, the escape capsule isn’t really meant for long distances, but we were only thirty minutes out, and as long as we don’t run into any other issues we should make it on the reserves we’ve got. I can call for pickup while you do whatever it is your doing, and my friends call me Carter.”
Bobby nodded to himself. “Sounds like a plan, Carter,” he said, glancing down at the instruments and settling in. If he was lucky he would still arrive in time to stop whatever it was they were doing, maybe even talk some sense into Elizabeth. He prayed that Andrew would be there, that he would have the chance to slap that shit-eating grin off his face. For once he wanted to get the jump on him.
Beside him Carter let out a gasp, drawing his attention from the controls. Bobby had just enough time to look up to see a golden streak tear through the windshield, shattering it into a thousand pieces, turning the tranquil moment into chaos.
Chapter 9: No One Who WIll Be Missed
2061
“You are all here today because God has chosen you to be an instrument of his will!” Staring at the strange wild-eyed cleric on stage in front of him, Bobby had a hollow feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was impossible to explain, but there was something off about the man. Maybe it was the way he shouted and pumped his fists into the air with a fanatical zeal, or how his hollow words ringed of empty promises. In the end it was his smile, he thought. He smiled too much; no one was that happy. “You shall be like the seraphim, the highest order of angel, you will be the flaming sword of justice!”
The cleric raised his arms above his head, bright eyes heavenward, his shouts reverberating in the rafters above. “Today is the beginning. Your salvation is at hand, so prepare to be reborn through the sacrament of Ascension!”
Scrubbing a hand over his face he pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how in God's name he ended up here. After meeting Lieutenant Young, he and Elizabeth had been unceremoniously shoved into the back of some sort of military VTOL without a word of explanation, and airborne moments later. In the blink of an eye his life at the church was over, left far behind. Working at Trinity was more like a punishment anyway, with the long hours and shitty food, not to mention the crappy bed in a church basement with no heat. Bobby only wished he and Elizabeth had had the chance to run away, start anew. Instead, they had been dragged away like criminals, locked in the windowless transport for more than an hour before they found themselves on a desolate tarmac, which looked like an abandoned military base, then hurried into a gymnasium by soldiers threatening them with elbows and fists. He and Elizabeth were separated, and he found himself in the musty-smelling room crowded with strangers who stood too close and spoke too loudly.
“The road ahead will be difficult; you shall be tested. Those of you that persevere will be rewarded by miracles beyond imagining,” the fanatic continued, pacing on the platform shaking his fist at them.
“Wow, how full of shit is that guy!” said a voice from behind him. Bobby glanced over his shoulder to find a square-jawed guy with shoulder-length blond hair glaring at the cleric, his handsome face a mask of disgust.
“I have faith and a deep love for God,” began Bobby, whispering over his shoulder. “But I trust this guy about as far as I can throw him.” Most of the time he wouldn’t have said such a thing to a stranger. He preferred to keep to himself, but being in this crowd, without Elizabeth at his side…
The cleric had begun reciting a passage from the Bible Romans 12:1, about offering your body to the Lord as living sacrifice. Bobby had heard it before; it was how he ended up working at Trinity Church for two hot meals a day and a crappy bed in an unheated dorm.
The blond moved beside him, leaning in to be heard over the din. “What's not to trust,” he said with an easy smile. “I woke up this morning planning on smoking some weed and chilling on the boardwalk, but instead I got jacked, taken forcefully without a word of explanation to the middle of freakin' nowhere. And after listening to this nutjob on stage here, I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna see tomorrow!”
“C’mon, they can’t just kill us,” said Bobby, shaking his head. “The guy up there looks like a nutjob, but these are men of God, and they’re ultimately good people.”
“Take a good look at the dudes and chicks around you, man. This isn’t a room full of winners heading to college; this is a bunch of mostly street kids, right, that nobody gives a shit about. If they disappeared tomorrow, no one would look for 'em.”
Bobby cocked his head, looking, really looking at the faces around him. Most were about his age, some younger. By their clothes and character he could tell most lived on the street or were in the foster system in some way. The signs were there if you knew them, the way they dressed, that hungry look, the darting eyes. If you lived on the street long enough you could always spot someone else who did too. You knew not to trust.
“I’m Andrew, by the way,” he said with a nod, not bothering to offer a hand. Bobby could see it in him too, how he sized up everything and everyone in the room. He wondered what he saw when he looked at him, wondered why he started talking to him. Was he an easy mark?
“Bobby,” he said, returning the nod.
Andrew scrubbed a hand through his thick blond hair, his easy grin returning to his face. “You wanna take bets on what these assholes are gonna do to us.”
Looking back at the railing cleric, Bobby could only shrug, his lips turning downward. “I don’t think so, as I’ve been through this before. Same thing happened a few years ago for Trinity Church. They picked us up off the street just like this. I’m sure they have some stupid project they need cheap labor for, the speech is just to make us do what they want without paying us our due.”
Andrew snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, they're religious, so they’re either gonna fuck us, make us fight for some bullshit cause, or maybe kill us in some horrible experiment. Fuck! Maybe it's all three; who knows.” Bobby could see the other man really believed it, and part of him did too. He knew the score.
“Do you know why they separated us,” asked Bobby, wanting to change the subject, looking around for Elizabeth and having no luck. He hadn’t seen her since they arrived, and he had a horrible feeling.
“These religious crazies are always obsessed with other people fucking,” said Andrew, rambling on. “They think everyone just wants to bang and nothing else. So they do what they can to stop it, as if separating the girls from the boys is gonna stop people from screwing around.”
“I guess so,” Bobby said with a quiet shrug, not wanting to talk about it. Sex was a confusing thing for him, and the last thing he needed was to share his problems with someone whom he just met. Before Andrew could say any more, the cleric at the front appeared to be done with his mad sermon and turned the stage over to Lieutenant Young who huffed and puffed his way up the small flight of stairs.
Beside him Andrew let out a low whistle, bumping him on the shoulder. “Will you look at how tight that uniform is? He looks like a giant sausage about to pop out of its skin.”
“All right, people, settle in,” said the lieutenant, his southern twang echoing through the hall. “The lot of you still need to get processed, meanin' we gotta do a little bitty exam and some blood work. From there, those of you with the right stuff get to move on, the rest of y’all get to go home with a bag a cash from Uncle Sam with no hard feelin’s.”
“What about the rest of us!” shouted Bobby, surprised to find himself speaking up. “Why the cloak-and-dagger bullshit in the middle of nowhere?” Beside him Andrew nodded in agreement, pumping his fist in the air.
All around him the crowd jostled, pushing forward, an angry current passing through them.
Lieutenant Young watched the cro
wd, letting them rant and rave, a knowing smile on his face. Moments later, he snapped his fingers, and the soldiers who had faded into the background spread out, liberally using their rifle stocks on some, bloodying others with hard jabs to the face with closed fists.
Bobby flinched when they shoved past him, one of the soldiers slamming him in the stomach with his rifle butt. Bobby fell on all fours gasping for air, the contents of his stomach threatening to spill. He cringed, covering his head and back with his forearms waiting for a blow that never came. A moment later strong hands lifted him to his feet, patting him on the back.
“You got balls. I’ll give you that,” said Andrew, holding him, giving him a toothy grin. “You tryin' to get us killed before we can get that big bag of cash and get the hell out of here.”
Bobby shook his head, blinking away the pain and standing on shaky legs. “Sorry, I take it back. You’re right; they’re gonna kill us.”
Andrew opened his mouth to answer when Lieutenant Young began again, his tone brooking no argument. “All right, I’ve had enough of this horseshit. You folks are gonna line up two by two behind the soldiers facing the stage here. You give 'em your name, and they’ll tell ya where to go. Any more attitude, and I’ll have my men here kneecap a few of you for fun. Got it?”
Grinding his teeth Bobby did as was told, falling into a line with the others, Andrew right behind him not saying a word. He scanned the room again, standing on his toes in the hope of catching sight of Elizabeth, wringing his hands in front of him when he didn’t. “I’m being punished for my sins,” he whispered to no one. He thought Elizabeth had absolved him of his crimes, but God was making him pay, punishing him for all the horrible things he did by taking away the one good in his life, the only person who ever gave him a chance.
Chapter 10: A Rabid Dog
2063
The cockpit had become the embodiment of chaos, a howling storm of frigid wind and shattered glass tearing at his flesh and stealing the breath from his lungs. Bobby’s world became a topsy-turvy, out of control nightmare as what was left of the Odin plummeted from the sky. He lost all sense of up and down, everything not locked down having been blown out from explosive decompression.
Children of the Spear (Novella): Origin Page 5
