Reckless Faith

by David Kantrowitz

  Richter smiled. “No, boss, I’m sure it is a waste of time. Why ruin the curve?”

  25.

  John stepped out of the shower feeling like a king. It was five minutes after seven o’clock in the morning, and the Tenney Mountain Motor Lodge had just become the Faith’s new home base. After another five and a half blissful hours of sleep, John and the rest of the crew had departed their mountainside hiding place to check out the motel. Ray was right on the money; the motel was right next to a nice quiet section of woodland that provided a discreet point of debarkation. The motel clerk never noticed that the group hadn’t arrived in a vehicle, which was just as well since there was no path for the Ford to take through the woods.

  John opened the bathroom window a crack to let in some cool air. There were no complementary toiletries save for a bar of soap, but it was enough. John and Ray had reserved one room while the ladies had obtained another. The running water and proper facilities were welcome enough, and John had no doubt that the women were equally glad to make use of them. Ray had finished his use of the bathroom before John, and was channel-surfing in the main room. John opened the door to the bathroom so that he could speak with Ray.

  “Hey Ray, I’m thinking that we can turn our private bathrooms aboard into their own shower stalls.”

  “What?” Ray asked.

  “You know how we were worried there wasn’t enough room in the bathrooms for a shower stall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, why not simply make the entire room the shower? We can drill a drain in the center of the floor and mount the shower spigot to the wall. The entire room is already steel and aluminum, it’s not like the paint is going to peel.”

  “That’s actually a really good idea. Don’t they do that in Japan?”

  “I think they might, yeah.”

  John finished drying himself off and entered the bedroom.

  “How much longer do you want to give the girls?”

  John shrugged. “They have three showers to take. I imagine they’ll be longer than us. I’d say we wait another forty-five minutes.”

  “You know, by the time we get down to the Air Guard base they’ll probably be working on the A-10s. Should we steal the weapons right out from under their noses?”

  “I don’t know. Seth said it wouldn’t harm anyone nearby to transport them. Why pussyfoot around now? The government already knows we’re out there.”

  “I guess it seems a bit rude, that’s all.”

  “I agree.”

  John watched television with Ray while he got dressed. The news wasn’t reporting anything about the Portland. John wasn’t surprised by this, despite the fact that the ship was in plain few of at least half a dozen residences across the river. Perhaps before too long, the feds would release a cover story. It seemed easy enough to claim that the Portland had been moved to another location during the wee hours of the morning.

  “It’s really starting to piss me off that I can’t get some of my stuff out of my apartment,” said Ray.

  “Yeah, I got lucky in that regard,” said John. “There’s still a lot more I would like to grab. It would almost be worth negotiating some kind of agreement with the CIA to get it.”

  “We’re through with the CIA.”

  “I know. Anyway, it’s not like we can’t buy whatever we want. Ari’s contribution makes up for all the trouble she’s caused.”

  “Barely. You know John, I’ve been thinking about something I wanted to talk to you about. This is sort of the first chance I’ve had.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you really want to bring Dana with us?”

  “Why wouldn’t we want Dana along?”

  “I don’t see her contributing anything to the crew, except to be another resource-consuming human.”

  “The crew is a skeleton as it is. Dana is obviously very intelligent and even if she has no specific skills, she’ll no doubt adapt to become valuable. If she can help Ari learn the orb’s program she’s already paid her fare as far as I’m concerned. Besides, I really think that we should have six people on board. Recruiting people willing to drop their entire lives and come with us wouldn’t be easy, so we shouldn’t count out Dana so quickly.”

  “All right. Then whom do you propose for the sixth?”

  “I don’t know, I was just thinking out loud. I wouldn’t even know where to start. We could approach another college professor, but Christie is obviously more adventurous than most. I don’t think we’d easily find another like her. Not without taking out a classified ad.”

  “We could always get a CIA agent to come with us.”

  “Ha! Ray, don’t you watch movies? The agent always betrays everybody else three-quarters of the way through the story.”

  “I’m not serious. I think we should stick with five and call it good, unless one of the others knows a particularly good candidate.”

  “Yeah. Join the crew of the Faith, meet new and interesting aliens, and kill them.”

  One hour later the bridge of the Faith was full. The ship was about to arrive at the Air Guard base, and the mood was tense. John could sense how his friends were feeling. Theoretically there was nothing to worry about, but the fact that one wrong move might get them into a dogfight with F-16s was hard to ignore. John hadn’t tested out the maneuverability of the Faith yet and so far it was not unlike flying a one hundred and fifty ton brick. John hoped that with practice he would become more adept.

  John was giving the animals a break and was linked with Seth himself. As they approached the base, John began to picture the A-10s in his mind. Seth would find them.

  “Anything?” asked Ray.

  “Just a moment,” replied John. “I’m getting an image in my head. There should be some of them over by that hangar.”

  John pointed out of the viewscreen. Sure enough, several A-10 Thunderbolts sat on the flight line. Various Air Force supernumeraries milled about. John half expected them to look upward and start screaming. As it was they were able to hover right over the planes without detection. None of the technicians appeared to be actively working on the planes.

  “Go to the gun room,” said John. “Seth is figuring out how much matter dispersal there will be for the cannons.”

  “You got it,” said Ray. “You guys coming?”

  “I’ll stay here,” said Dana.

  Ari and Christie stood up to follow Ray. He led them downstairs and into the forward gun room. Part of the hull in front of them disappeared quite unexpectedly, and bright sunlight streamed into the room.

  “What the hell?” Ray said. “John, what’s going on?”

  John’s voice filled the room. “We’re preparing the room for transport. Stay near the door.”

  A humming sound began to emanate from the center of the room. Green spheres of light danced in graceful patterns, and a massive thirty millimeter cannon took shape. The green light faded, leaving behind a perfect cannon. The muzzles of the barrels protruded out of the newly formed hole in the wall, and the receiver and drum-shaped ammunition magazine filled the rest of the space.

  “We got it, John,” Ray said.

  “Is it solid?” John replied.

  Ray tapped the hydraulic drive motor. The power cables had been cut neatly.

  “It looks like it. The rounds are staggered, John. There’s one high explosive four every four armor piercing.”

  “Good. The transportation ratio this time was two-to-one, so we got two weapons out of the deal. Unfortunately, the ammunition was four-to-one, so we only got two hundred seventy five rounds each of ammo. Get back up here, please.”

  Ari led the way back up to the bridge. John and Dana were standing next to the left side window.

  “The crew just noticed the missing weapons,” said John. “They're shocked.”

  The others joined them by the window. Down on the tarmac, the A-10 crews were clearly flabbergasted. They shrugged their shoulders and spoke into portable radios.

  “Sorry, fellas,
” said Ray. “Business is business.”

  John returned to the pilot’s chair. “Seth tells me we can pick up ten thousand more rounds of ammunition at a nearby location.”

  “Excellent.”

  The ship began to move again. John guided it to a small building next to the hangar. The activity on the ground had grown to a frantic pace, and blue Security Forces pickup trucks were heading towards the A-10s. The main gate was also closing. The base was being locked down.

  “I’m going to put all of this ammo in the rear cargo bay,” John said. “It’s going to be a tight fit.”

  “So far we’re doing pretty well on storage,” Christie said.

  “I think we can afford to take up the space,” said Ari. “I’d rather have too much ammo than not enough.”

  “Agreed,” said John. “I’m transporting the ammunition now.”

  Ray had a flash of insight. “What about cleaning kits for these things?”

  John nodded. “I’m grabbing one of those, too.”

  “They are going to be pissed at us,” said Dana, grinning.

  A slight bump reverberated through the ship.

  “Transport is complete,” said John. “Friday to the bridge, please.”

  The door to the conference room opened and Friday entered. John stood up, holding his hands out towards Friday like a magician.

  “Zzzap!” he said.

  Friday jumped into the pilot’s chair. Seth’s voice filled the bridge.

  “John, I was sleeping,” he said.

  “You’re always sleeping, Friday. Do me a favor and fill in while we prepare for our next stop.”

  “I’d be glad to, cutie.”

  “What’s next on the agenda?” asked Dana.

  Ray smiled broadly. “More guns.”

  __________

  It was a beautiful morning on Boston Common. Lieutenant Commander Peter Guilfoyle was too distracted to notice. He had departed the CIA’s building to get some space, having spent another uncomfortable night on a couch therein. Guilfoyle had resigned himself to renting out a hotel room for the upcoming night, despite the fact that he was holding onto a shred of hope that the entire affair might progress before then.

  He had also hoped that Norfolk would send him some more personnel. As the only representative for the DIA, Guilfoyle was beginning to feel like a guest in the CIA’s home. It wasn’t supposed to be like that and he sure wasn’t used to it that way. Guilfoyle had left a message for his commanding officer and was anticipating a response. He fantasized about what he would say to the Admiral if he could really speak his mind.

  The wind was whipping across the Common fairly well. A college student attempting to squeeze one last day of studying outdoors finally gave up. Elsewhere, businessmen make rapid bee-lines across the many paved paths. Many of them were drastically under-dressed for the weather. Guilfoyle’s peacoat was a veritable mockery to their condition. After ten years in the DIA and five in the Navy before that, the coat was still the best piece of gear he was ever issued. His Colt 1911A1 may have been the second best, if it had been issued and not a personal purchase. He’d never needed it before now, and he hoped he wouldn’t in the future. From what the CIA agents were able to learn, it wouldn’t do him much good anyway.

  Guilfoyle thought about his training, and the fact that he had washed out of the SEALs. It was hardly the end of his Navy career, and it didn’t stop the DIA from recruiting him. It was, however, one of the most inescapable failures of his life. Ringing the bell to show one and all that he had given up was a haunting memory, and his desire to make up for it provided all the ambition he needed. It meant nothing to him, though, if he couldn’t take back that moment of weakness.

  Leaves swirled around Guilfoyle’s legs as his cell phone rang. The caller ID confirmed his hope, and he answered.

  “Commander Guilfoyle,” he said.

  “Commander, this is Admiral Phair.”

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “How are things progressing in Boston?”

  “They’re not, sir. Like I told you yesterday, Case Officer Devonai compromised our only means of finding the ship. As long as we’re letting the CIA cover so much of this case we won’t accomplish anything.”

  “What do you propose to do better?”

  “We can work more efficiently with the CIA out of the picture entirely.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, commander.”

  “Sir, honestly, I don’t know what we should do next. I am certain, however, that this clumsy cooperation with the CIA is getting us nowhere. If we’re going to spin our wheels we might as well do it alone.”

  “You were never much for politics, Guilfoyle. It’s not as simple as that. The CIA beat us to the case. All the jurisdiction in the world doesn’t mean squat if we hurt our working relationship with them. This goes much further than you, Omega Group, and I.”

  “Agreed, sir, but considering the magnitude of this case, we should be employing every resource we can muster. I would like to request more manpower, for...”

  “Commander, there’s been another incident, this time at Bradley Air National Guard Base in Connecticut.”

  “You’re kidding. What sort of incident?”

  “Several thirty millimeter cannons and over thirty thousand rounds of ammunition have been stolen.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “It gets better. The weapons were stolen right out of the fuselages of the A-10s of the 103rd Fighter Wing, and the rounds from the well-secured munitions building. There was nothing left but a little bit of metallic debris.”

  “The ship is stealing weapons now? Damn it, who do these people think they are?”

  “Right now they’re the masters of their domain, which is wherever they damn well please. Commander, you have got to find out a way to track this ship before half the military’s armaments end up in a dustpan.”

  “We’ve got agents at ASTRA working on the problem. Any other suggestions would be appreciated, sir.”

  “Get a team over to Bradley and run some tests. See if there’s anything about that debris that can give us any help.”

  “With all due respect, sir, the debris from the Portland wasn’t particularly useful.”

  “At this point, testing the material from Bradley is still a viable course of action. I’ll tell you what, Guilfoyle. I’ll dispatch a team for you. That way, you can at least be a little more autonomous from the CIA. But you can’t go off on your own. Our agencies still need to work together on this one.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “I’ll be in contact with you. Goodbye.”

  Guilfoyle hung up the phone. A dog ran over with a stick in its mouth and requested the commander’s assistance. The owner, some eighty yards distant, bid the dog to return. Guilfoyle took the stick and threw it in the appropriate direction. The dog took off running.

  “Go fetch, Guilfoyle.”

  26. October 15, 2003

  It had been a full week since the crew of the Faith had obtained their weaponry, and Ray was only marginally closer to getting them installed properly. Christie and Dana had managed to explain voltage to Seth, who then modified a standard power port to suit the devices. Heavy-duty power cords had been run through the central conduits, and every room now had power available, including the weapons rooms.

  The thirty-millimeter cannons had been relatively easy to install, since they were already pointing in the right direction. The fifty-caliber machine guns, however, would have to be fully articulated. This necessitated integrating the turrets from the B-29. Fortunately, two fully intact turrets and several spare parts for such rigs were discovered and stolen from the New England Air Museum located only a mile from Bradley. Since the parts were unique, John and Ray had to engage in a midnight burglary, an act facilitated by the lack of any physical security at the museum. They simply circumvented the alarm system and brought the parts out on palettes. Installing them was proving to be more difficult, and Ray and John had already spe
nt many hours sweating and swearing at the turrets as they struggled to get them working correctly.

  The only weapons that were immediately available were the Springfield M1A rifles they’d stolen out of an Illinois factory. It had required three rifles for every one transported, so the company had discovered thirty weapons missing from the warehouse the next day. They’d been stowed in the armory, along with extra ammunition and magazines. The others had promised Christie and Dana some practice with the weapons, but as of yet they hadn’t visited a range.

  The most important breakthrough so far, however, had been three days ago when Ari cracked the orb’s computer code. A powerful algorithm-detection program had been running constantly and had finally hit on a pattern. Ari jumped in with both feet to begin translating the transmitted information into a format they could use. This involved a lot of trial and error, with each ship function being specifically mentioned as the code program was transmitted. Ari had brought a coffee machine into the orb room, and had only emerged for bathroom breaks and meals. Dana helped her when she could, but her priorities were helping John and Christie install the plumbing system.

  The only expertise on the plumbing was coming out of a series of do-it-yourself tomes purchased from a home repair store. John and Christie had become quick experts on the subject, or so they hoped. After all the hard work, they were beginning to rue the day they’d ever learned of the material polyvinyl chloride.

  That morning, the object of attention for the entire crew was Ray’s toilet. The crew had crowded into his personal bathroom to watch the inaugural flushing.

  “Ready?” asked Ray.

  “Flush, flush, flush,” the others chanted.

  Ray tipped the lever. The water in the bowl disappeared so quickly that it caused a popping sound. The bowl began to refill a moment later.

  “Success!” Ray declared.

  “I guess the suction pressure is adequate,” said Dana.

  “Adequate?” Ari asked, smiling. “Don’t forget to stand up first or you’ll be the one sucking pressure.”