Reckless Faith

by David Kantrowitz

  “Sweet,” said Ray.

  “Let’s get down to the cargo bay,” said John. “We’ve got a lot of stuff to take before the store opens. But we only take the bare minimum for furnishing the bridge, the conference room, the galley, and the crew quarters. We can’t feasibly transport all this furniture on our own so this act of theft is necessary. Let’s not get used to it.”

  Ari shrugged. “I wonder if Robin Hood was this hung up about his job.”

  Despite John’s good intentions, he found himself talked into quite a bit of looting by his fellow crew members. They simply needed too much and had too little money. The logistics of picking up all the things they needed were also quite daunting without the aid of the Faith. The only thing that prevented any transportation was the proximity of people to the desired items, and occasionally, the lack of overall atomic mass. Still, over the last hour the crew had managed to collect chairs, tables, beds, cabinets, wardrobes, and various other items deemed necessary.

  This task completed, John was dropped off at his office and Ari at hers. In order to avoid detection, John was dropped onto the roof of his building, while a sufficiently isolated part of the woods near Ari’s office was used for her. They would be picked up in four hours, at around one o’clock.

  In the meantime, Ray, Christie, and Dana made additional stops with the Faith. They obtained some backup equipment for Seth’s basic functions, such as oxygen canisters and industrial-grade dry cell batteries. They also spent a significant time raiding a home improvement store’s warehouse for things they would need to secure the furniture to the ship, as well as the plumbing that they suddenly realized they needed to install. Their knowledge of plumbing was limited so they grabbed what they thought they would need initially; any refinements would have to come later (and with further education on the matter). Seth assured them that a fresh water supply would not be a problem, and any waste material would be ejected into space or recycled.

  Without Ari's financial backing, they couldn’t obtain any computer or network equipment. The only things they knew for sure they would need were twenty-one plasma screen computer monitors, one for each room of the ship and five for the bridge. Ray was perfectly happy to obtain them while John was away as he would most certainly object to the extravagance of the theft.

  So far, Seth and Friday were doing a good job of piloting the ship, but Ray got the distinct impression that any complicated maneuvers would have to involve a human. Seth was going off of John’s memory of the locations they’d been visiting; however, Seth made it clear that any destination that they weren’t aware of by memory would require manual navigation.

  Wary of Friday’s fear of Tycho, the crew hadn’t yet tried using the dog as a medium for Seth. Rather than keep him locked in the armory, Christie had begun to prepare her quarters with what little they had. With a bed, a bare mattress, and a wardrobe, the six identical quarters resembled empty dormitory rooms. Tycho was quite pleased to be in a room with a window, and was transfixed at the view from altitude.

  At one o’clock, the Faith returned to a position above John’s office building. John was on the roof waiting for them. After a final check to make sure nobody was watching, Seth lowered the ramp and John jumped aboard. He immediately saw a cargo bay full of furniture and supplies. He grinned. Ray and Dana were waiting to greet him.

  “I see you’ve been busy,” John said.

  “Here’s a manifest of everything we’ve obtained so far,” said Ray, handing John a clipboard.

  John reviewed the list.

  “I would really like to take this thing into orbit,” said Dana, “if we have time to do some sightseeing.”

  “I’d rather not take the Faith out of the atmosphere until we’ve installed the backup environmental controls.”

  “Seth says the ship is space-worthy right now.”

  “I know, but I’d just feel better waiting... you got stainless steel toilets?”

  “They seemed more appropriate than porcelain,” said Ray. “Where are we going to get replacement toilets in space?”

  “Good point... you also got six twenty-one inch and fifteen seventeen inch plasma monitors?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “For God’s sake, Ray! We’re not Parker and Longbaugh you know.”

  “I know. We thought plasma was the best choice, and there’s no way we could afford so many plasma screen monitors.”

  “What’s wrong with CRT monitors?”

  “They’re not as cool,” said Dana. “Besides, these are touch-sensitive.”

  John sighed. “All right, then. Where’s Christie?”

  “Resting,” said Ray.

  “How goes the installation of the chairs on the bridge?”

  “Come and see for yourself.”

  Ray led the way to the bridge. Upon arrival, Friday approached John.

  “Daddy!” exclaimed Seth.

  “Man, your cat really likes you,” said Dana.

  “I treat her right,” John said.

  The five executive office chairs had been installed on the bridge. They’d been bolted to the deck by removing their swivel bases and replacing them with flat panels, which were then drilled for bolt holes. Various metal working power tools were present, including a drill and a circular saw.

  “Not bad, eh?” said Ray. “Aren’t you glad I took metal shop in high school?”

  “Very glad. I see you got my idea for the pilot’s seat to work.”

  Ray nodded. The center seat had been mounted on rails, allowing it to roll from a more central position to the edge of the control panel. John’s idea was to install the manual flight controls at that position, and the pilot would roll forward when he or she wanted to take over. The chair rolled freely, and Ray had even installed a locking lever.

  “When did you have the time to do all this?” asked John.

  “Dana and Christie concentrated on the transportation of supplies once they were familiar with the task,” said Ray. “I came up here. This took about two hours all together.”

  “Impressive. I’m starting to feel better about this entire project.”

  “What do we have left to pick up?” asked Dana.

  “Ari still needs to put together a list of the computer equipment she needs, which we’ll have to buy. We also need rifles, ammunition, and food. There’s no reason why we can’t buy the ammo and the food, but for convenience sake and to avoid suspicion we’ll transport the rifles directly. We need uniforms in case we need to look alike, but so far we haven’t decided on what kind.”

  “Okay.”

  “Seth, take us to pick up Ari.”

  “Understood,” said Seth.

  “When we arrive,” began John, “Ari and I will take the Expedition and go shopping for computer equipment. If you and Christie could continue to install furniture, that would be great.”

  “No problem,” said Dana.

  “Oh yeah, Dana, did you try calling Levi again?”

  “Yes. He’s still not answering his phone. I can try calling ASTRA again and see if they’ve heard from him.”

  “Please do.”

  Dana dialed her cell phone and waited.

  “I still don’t think we have anything to worry about from Levi,” said Ray.

  “I know,” said John, “it’s just our only loose end right now.”

  Page answered Dana’s call.

  “Hello,” said Page's voice.

  “Chris, it’s Dana.”

  “Hi, Dana. Are you on your way back yet, or what?”

  “I won’t be back for a while. Has Levi tried to contact you since we last spoke?”

  “Nope. Not a peep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m quite sure.”

  “All right. Did you do what I asked you to?”

  “Yes, all of that data has been deleted. You pissed off quite a few people today, Dana, and there are many more of us who are upset with you than there are who are worried about what’s going on up in New Englan
d.”

  “I understand. All I can say is that I’m doing what needs to be done. I know that’s not enough but it’s all I have to give you.”

  “Fine. I guess I’ll talk to you later, then.”

  “Goodbye, Page,” said Dana, and closed her phone.

  “That’s odd that Levi hasn’t contacted them,” said John.

  “I know, it doesn’t feel right.”

  “We should assume that ASTRA has been compromised. It’s the safest course of action.”

  “I agree,” said Ray.

  “Good. Only one question remains for now.”

  “What?”

  “Did we bring any food aboard? I’m frigging starved.”

  __________

  A soft knock on the door was enough to awaken Devonai. He had crashed for three solid hours on Richter’s bed, and despite the way he currently felt he knew it would do him a world of good. Devonai’s apartment was a little too far away to warrant a return to his own bed, and as Richter’s place was just around the corner from their Beacon Hill offices that’s where he decided to go. Richter had given Devonai a sleeping bag to spread over the bed, and Devonai was asleep within two minutes of doing so.

  “I’m up,” Devonai gurgled.

  Richter opened the door. “We’ve got some new information, major.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  Richter returned to the living room while Devonai roused himself from the grips of exhaustion. Their trip to John Scherer’s place had proven a waste of time. An empty desk with tell-tale dust borders indicated that a computer had recently been removed, and there was nothing else of interest. Marks was apologetic but blamed the CIA for moving too slowly. Devonai thought that as long as Marks was deceiving his colleague and the crew of the supposed spaceship he could have found a more effective way to let the CIA in on it. Spooking them and giving them a reason to hide wasn’t the swiftest move in recent tactical memory.

  Fortunately, Marks had given them more with which to work. In addition to Dana Andrews and John Scherer, Marks had identified Raymond Bailey, Ari Ferro, and Christie Tolliver as participants. Before he’d passed out at Richter’s place, Devonai had requested a comprehensive dossier on each. Devonai had asked Richter to wake him not only when the files were ready, but when agents were firmly established at the Pennsylvania ASTRA facility. Glancing at his watch, Devonai was surprised to find just how long it had taken. He holstered his pistol, drew on his jacket, and exited the bedroom.

  “We got the files back on those people,” Richter said. “The office faxed them over for you to review on the way back.”

  Richter was spreading mayonnaise on two ham sandwiches. He pointed at a pile of papers on the edge of the kitchen table. Devonai procured them.

  “John Scherer,” Devonai said, reading aloud, “age twenty-seven, occupation, CAD design engineer for one year. Before that he was an avionics technician with the New Hampshire Air National Guard, working out of Pease on the KC-135. Next is Raymond Bailey, age twenty-eight, Manchester, New Hampshire police officer. Arianna Ferro, age twenty-seven, software designer... damn, she is hot.”

  “And that’s just a crappy faxed photo,” said Richter, offering Devonai a sandwich.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you ready to head out? Hill is waiting for us downtown.”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Devonai and Richter exited the apartment and headed down the street. If it wasn’t for the CIA, he knew, there would be no way Richter could afford an apartment in a neighborhood like this. Mount Vernon was just about the nicest street on Beacon Hill and probably the most expensive real estate on the planet, inch for inch.

  The walk to the office on Park Street was so short, Devonai had barely finished his sandwich by the time they had stepped into the elevator. Hill’s office was on the fourth floor. The door was open. Inside, Lauren Hill and Delana Brockway were waiting.

  Lauren Hill had to be pushing forty, as far as Devonai could tell. In the years that he’d known her he never did get her exact age. She was always professional and only the slightest bit friendly on a personal level. It fit her role. Brockway, on the other hand, was as good a friend as Devonai had ever had. They had saved each other’s backsides on many occasions. Her skills in the lab belied her efficacy with a rifle. Brockway was much closer to Devonai’s own age of 29. Devonai occasionally wondered, if not for Mara, whether or not he could have gotten anywhere with Delana. Last he knew, Brockway was still maintaining a long distance relationship with somebody on the west coast, a fact that Devonai often reminded to Richter, who was unattached and more than a bit obviously interested.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” said Hill.

  “Afternoon,” replied Devonai.

  “Have a seat. I see you’ve been reviewing the files.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, it’s interesting, to say the least. A CAD engineer, a cop, a computer programmer, an astronomy professor, from my alma mater, by the way, and an ASTRA researcher. Besides the cop, I’d say this looks like a pretty good crew to head up a spacecraft such as Mister Marks claims.”

  “Marks says that they’re still in the process of outfitting the ship, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll find this interesting,” said Brockway, holding up some papers. “Reports are coming in over the police wires about some very odd thefts. The first report comes from Resin Technologies in Wilmington. They reported eight Type 57 industrial grade batteries stolen from their facility. The odd thing is that these batteries weigh over three hundred pounds each, and the security guard says that there were no vehicles in or out of the facility during the window of time. Even odder than that is that three of the batteries were installed as part of an emergency power system to their power plant, and those batteries were taken out of their mounting brackets without disturbing several large objects blocking them!”

  “How can they be sure these objects weren’t moved?”

  “According to the report, there was dust and detritus gathered around some boxes and barrels. To move them would have left an obvious shape on the ground. There were also no footprints or other marks in the dust, which was thick enough to make them obvious.”

  “It’s strange, but it’s not enough to link it to our case.”

  “There’s another report you’ll want to hear. This one is of one hundred oxygen cylinders missing from Compressed Air, Incorporated in Stoneham. The man who discovered the missing cylinders claims that there was a large pile of metallic dust in their place... and that one cylinder crumbled into dust when he tried to move it.”

  Devonai snapped his fingers. “Just like the Portland! Now there’s a direct correlation.”

  “Yes,” said Hill, “and oxygen cylinders have obvious use on a spacecraft.”

  “I suppose batteries would, too.”

  “Too bad there’s no way to predict where they might go next,” said Richter.

  “That leads us to the next order of business,” said Hill.

  “ASTRA?” queried Devonai.

  “That’s right. Our agents arrived an hour ago. According to them, they haven’t received a signal like the one they’ve been tracking since last night. We were only able to confirm Marks’ story as well as the coordinates they’ve been following. However, if you look at Ray Bailey’s file, you’ll see that he owns property in Orford, New Hampshire.”

  “The same town that they received a signal from over the weekend.”

  “Correct.”

  Devonai thought for a moment.

  “Marks may have screwed us over more than we thought by spooking the crew,” he said. “If they knew about the signal that was allowing ASTRA to track them, they could have taken measures to stop transmitting it.”

  “So should we check out the property in New Hampshire?” asked Richter.

  “Of course. I would also like permission to place a two-man team on each of these individuals
’ home addresses. If the ship was cloaked like Marks said, they could be using any or all of these locations as way points. If they make an appearance, we can have the teams detain them.”

  “I agree,” said Hill. “So that’s four Massachusetts addresses and the one in New Hampshire?”

  “Actually, that’s three in Mass, two in New Hampshire, since Bailey lives in Manchester.”

  “Okay. I agree to this plan.”

  “Great.”

  “And I want you to scout each location yourself, starting with Ferro’s apartment on Marlborough Street. Then you and Richter can settle at whichever location you think is most likely to yield results.”

  “Understood. Richter, get us a comfortable vehicle. We’re going to be in it for eternity.”

  20.

  “Your total is six thousand seven hundred thirty-five dollars and twelve cents.”

  John stared in horror at the LED screen shining in an unwavering fashion from the cash register. The clerk, who had just announced the total, stared at John in a considerably less terrified manner. Ari smirked and pulled a card from her wallet.

  “American Express,” she said. “Don’t leave Earth without it.”

  John leaned against the shopping cart (which was overflowing) and shook his head.

  “You just had to get the three-point-two gigahertz machines, didn’t you?”

  “This is my money and my computer system, John. Why concern yourself with it? For what we need it for, why skimp out on the funds?”

  The clerk waited for the receipt to print out after Ari’s card was rapidly accepted.

  “It’s wasteful. We have a lot left to go.”

  Ari signed the receipt, and helped John break the inertia of the cart.

  “You are so hung up on buying what we can,” she said in low tones. “It would be cute if it wasn’t so annoying.”

  John and Ari crossed the parking lot to the Expedition.

  “Look, I’ll make you a deal. You stop haranguing me about my ethical standards and I’ll stop bothering you about your precious computer systems.”

  “Fine,” said Ari, smiling warmly, “I already got my way.”