“Well, I’m aroused,” said Ray. “Who wants to try it again?”
The others objected loudly and made their way out of the chamber.
“I have a hated five-gallon bucket to toss overboard,” said Ari, exiting Ray’s quarters. Dana and Christie followed her out.
“What, nobody?”
“Let’s get back to work, Ray,” said John. “No rest for the weary. We can celebrate our indoor water closets after dinner tonight.”
“You and Christie deserve a break, don’t you think?”
“We’ve still got a lot to do. We’ve only begun to start installing the individual computer stations. Ari hopes to start up the network by tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“How’s the dorsal turret going?”
“Better. I’m still getting too much friction swinging through the five o’clock position. The plasma screen is working fine. There’s just nothing to hook it up to yet.”
“Okay. Give me a call if you need more help.”
“Sure. I think I’m all set for the dorsal gun. The ventral one is the one I’m worried about.”
“Don’t remind me.”
John exited Ray’s quarters and headed towards the bridge. Ray departed for the lower deck. John gazed out of the hallway windows as he approached the bridge. It was a rainy day out in the woods behind the motel. John saw movement in the trees. He stopped walking, scanning the terrain. Nothing happened.
“Probably a deer,” John said to himself.
John entered the bridge. Tycho was sitting in the pilot seat. Christie was drilling holes under the counter to mount one of the computers.
“Hi, John,” said Seth’s voice.
“Hi, Tycho,” John replied.
“What took you so long?” Christie said.
“You’re not interested in taking a break? We just got done with the plumbing.”
“No, thanks. You go ahead.”
John grabbed a pair of safety goggles off of the counter. Putting them on, he knelt beside Christie.
“You’re getting good at that,” he said.
“Thanks. Ray showed me how to do it.”
“Ray likes you, you know.”
Christie stopped drilling. “What?”
“Well, I don’t know if he likes you. But he should.”
“Are you trying to play intergalactic match-maker? What the hell?”
“Sorry, I’m being ridiculous. Ray does look at you a certain way.”
“I know.”
“Not interested?”
“I would’ve had to think about it for a microsecond to be interested. I’ve been a bit distracted since meeting him.”
“But you’re not repulsed by him.”
“I’m not repulsed by much. I mean, I like him just fine. I’m more interested in knowing what the heck is going on between you and Ari.”
John sighed. “I wish I knew.”
“You two used to go out?”
“No, we never did. Ari and I were oil and water most of the time we’ve known each other. These days, though... who knows?”
“Probes from outer space make for strange bedfellows.”
“That sounds really bad.”
Christie laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. It wasn’t Seth that complicated our friendship. Time did.”
Ari’s voice filled the room.
“Hey John, it’s Ari.”
“Go ahead,” John said.
“I’m ready to move my operation to the server room. It’s time to start laying the network cables through the conduit tunnels.”
“Did you drill the holes already?”
“Yes. I need somebody to help Dana roll the cable spools from the orb room to the server room.”
“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Have fun,” said Christie.
“Thanks.”
John stood up and headed for the cargo bay. Ari and Dana were waiting for him. They had begun unpacking two large spools of CAT-5 cable. The spools were way too large for the conduits.
“You know we’ll have to unroll the spools from the orb room,” John said.
“We just realized that,” Ari said.
“Okay. Let’s start with this one.”
John grabbed one end of the dowel that was stuck through the center of the spool. Dana placed herself at the other end. Together they lifted the spool off the deck and began shuffling towards the orb room. Ari led the way.
“Oof! How much cable is this?” Dana asked.
“Two hundred and fifty meters,” replied John. “We won’t use it all in one pass.”
“No duh.”
It seemed to take half an hour to get the spool up the stairs to the armory, but in fact it was only a few minutes. Ari was content to watch John and Dana break a sweat doing so. Once through the armory, they were in the orb room.
“Piece of cake,” John said, panting.
“We need to use the upper starboard conduit,” Ari said.
“I know. Somebody want to give me a boost?”
Dana offered her knee and hands. John carefully climbed up to access the hatch to the proper conduit, which was placed on the bulkhead up by the ceiling. He had designed it as a manually-operated door, and it occurred to him there was no reason he couldn’t have made it automatic. He was forced to keep the swinging hatch open with one arm while he pulled himself into the conduit with the other. He at last made it inside, and turned around to face the hatch.
“Geez,” he said, “I should have entered from the upper hatch.”
“There’s an upper hatch?” Dana asked.
“Yeah, each conduit is accessible from at least four points. This one can be accessed from the bridge, the dorsal gun room, here, and the third starboard quarters.”
“Ah.”
“Pass me the end of the cable.”
Ari picked up the cable and unrolled a few feet. She reached up and handed it to John.
“Enjoy, it ain’t fun,” said Ari.
“Dana, meet me in the server room,” John said.
Dana nodded. “You bet.”
Dana exited the orb room. John waved goodbye to Ari.
John quickly realized that the best place for the cable was between his teeth. He needed his palms to be flat to traverse the low conduit. John began crawling forward.
“Dis is fum,” he mumbled around the cable.
After a few painful minutes John looked up and saw a pair of fingers poking through a hole in the conduit. John took the cable out of his mouth and pressed it into Dana’s fingers. Dana grabbed the cable and pulled it through the hole.
“I’m going to the bridge,” John shouted.
“Okay,” came Dana’s muffled response.
John continued crawling until he reached the hatch to the bridge. He pushed it open roughly and it clattered open. John popped his head up and was met with an epithet.
“Holy shit!” Christie yelled. “For God’s sake, don’t do that without warning!”
__________
Corporal Richter thrust his arms into the air and yawned. He was alone in Hill’s office, awaiting her arrival. Major Devonai was also expected for this meeting, which like the ones preceding it promised to be a waste of time.
Over the past week, the investigation of the ship known as the Reckless Faith had gone nowhere. Logging an unbelievable number of surveillance hours had yielded nothing, save for the daily schedules of a few unrelated neighbors. Richter felt especially bad for Smith and Ragulin, who were stuck back up in New Hampshire at Bailey’s cabin. Whoever brewed the tea (and ate some of the food, they’d discovered) hadn’t returned. Considering the broken lock they had to assume it was a squatter they had scared off.
The crew of the Faith hadn’t surprised anyone by staying away from their respective domiciles. Meanwhile, more bizarre thefts had been streaming in. Both military and civilian sources had reported missing weapons and weapons systems, compounding their quarry’s expensive
tastes. It was obvious that the crew was expecting some serious trouble wherever they were going, but so far they were sticking to conventional arms. They hadn’t messed with the experimental weaponry that the Department of Defense kept a tight secret, proving, according to Devonai, that their gear was only as good as their intel. There were limits to their abilities. Unfortunately, they were not limited in staying hidden from the CIA.
Richter and Devonai were good friends, and the latter confided in the former with regards to his doubts. Devonai had made it clear to Richter that he no longer supported the mission, and only continued to participate because he honestly believed they would fail. Richter agreed that things looked hopeless, but wished that Devonai would let go of his prideful need to stay involved. Richter wanted some time off already.
Richter had always been a man of action. The kind of work they were currently doing was boring him to tears. He was a victim of his own success; he had performed so well on previous missions that eventually the CIA began to ask more of him. Refusing a promotion to sergeant was just about the only thing Richter could do to show them that he didn’t want the extra responsibility. He still ended up being assigned to Devonai’s investigative arm of Omega Group. Devonai, for his part, made it entirely Richter’s choice. Richter conceded to the assignment after realizing that if not for the offer, he could be placed somewhere much less desirable. The CIA was also looking for someone to become the assistant firearms instructor for the Boston division, a role that Richter could have filled easily but did not appeal to him. He may have been a crack shot with a rifle but he hadn’t the patience to relay that skill to others.
Devonai entered Hill’s office and nodded a greeting towards Richter.
“Morning, major,” Richter said.
Devonai found a seat and flopped down. He made no effort to hide his emotional state, which was doubtlessly identical to Richter’s own.
“Don’t you wish we could phone in our reports?” Devonai said.
“It’s not like we have anything new to reveal,” replied Richter.
In reality, Richter was quite glad to be actively working again. During his time off the CIA provided him a stipend, and it was just enough to live off of. The full-time pay of late would allow him to indulge some of his more expensive luxuries, if he ever got the chance. Since the case was going nowhere, however, Richter would have been glad to cut his losses and take what was already earned. Richter had long since learned that there were only two states in which he was truly happy; those were spending money or boondocking somewhere exotic with his M40 rifle. His recent adventures in Afghanistan had been very satisfying, even if the majority of his activities revolved around spotting for mortar crews. Richter loved being in the field and enjoyed being completely self-sufficient. Carrying everything that mattered in his rucksack, and relying on his weapons and skills for survival was visceral and thrilling. It was also profoundly peaceful to him, interrupted only occasionally by combat, which he found unobjectionable. After all, he couldn’t enjoy the rest of the experience without the periodic fire fight. Richter was at peace with himself, and he was ready to die at any moment. He wasn’t fatalistic, just pragmatic. To survive boot camp, he had to let go of his worries. Richter happened to be so good at this that certain worries never bothered him again, and that included the possibility of dying young.
It was Richter’s unflappable demeanor that drew his teammates to him. Devonai’s own experience did not involve as much combat conditioning (though certainly as much actual combat) and it was always a source of great strength to him to look over and see Richter. The picture of calm, Richter raised morale for those around him.
Devonai sipped his coffee. Richter hadn’t bothered to brew any on his way past the kitchenette, but Devonai obviously had. Richter decided to go get some of his own when Hill entered.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said.
The men offered a less than enthusiastic greeting. Hill sat behind her desk and shuffled some papers around.
“Where’s Guilfoyle?” Devonai asked.
“The DIA no longer deems it necessary to attend our daily briefings,” Hill said.
“That figures. Why do we get dragged in here?”
“It’s nice to see you too, Devonai.”
“That’s not what I meant. I say go ahead and let the DIA take over. At this point, the sooner we all give up and go back to our normal mission, the better. Who really cares if a few million dollars worth of gear disappears into space? The defense industry needs an excuse for increased output anyway.”
Hill rolled her eyes, and said, “Just say the word, Devonai, and this mission will be out of your hands.”
“I don’t really have a good enough reason to hold onto it except out of spite. I do, however, have a personal interest in seeing whether or not those guys actually get that ship into space.”
“You think they’re going to give you a send-off?”
“In this case, no news is good news.”
27. October 21, 2003
“Okay, tell me what you’ve got for read-outs.”
Ari’s voice floated through the bridge. She was in the server room, controlling the feeds to the computer stations on the bridge. Christie and Dana sat at the right and left forward stations, regarding the plasma screens. Ari’s environmental sensor program, barely two days old, presented dozens of possible variables. Christie read from the screen.
“Internal temperature sixty-two degrees. External temperature fifty degrees. Internal radiation zero point two five rads. External radiation zero rads. Internal relative humidity five percent. External relative humidity zero percent. Internal oxygen percentage, no reading. External oxygen percentage, no reading.”
“Damn it,” said Ari. “Okay, skip the inert gases. Try the hazardous gases.”
“Internal chlorine zero percent. External chlorine zero percent. Internal ammonia zero point zero three percent. External ammonia zero percent. Internal methane zero point zero five percent. External methane zero point five percent. Internal phosphorus no reading. Same on the external phosphorus.”
“Shit. Okay, try the particulates next.”
John’s voice came onto the bridge. “Bridge, this is John.”
“Go ahead, John,” said Dana.
“Ray and I are ready to test the armaments. How are things going on your end?”
Dana typed on her keyboard. “I’m showing all weapons armed and ready. Controls are locked at local for the fifties.”
In the background, Christie continued to read off statistics to Ari. Dana lowered her voice to prevent confusion.
“Roger that, Ray and I have the fifties set on local. I’ll reset them to remote control. Ray and I are on our way to the bridge.”
“Understood.”
“We’re all set for the neutrino sensor array,” said Christie.
“Okay,” said Ari, “get John to the bridge, I’m ready to connect the manual flight controls to the system.”
“He’s on his way.”
Moments later, John and Ray arrived on the bridge.
“Ari says she’s ready to test the manual flight controls,” Dana said.
“Excellent,” replied John.
“Bridge to Ari,” began Ray, “what’s the status of the main forward cannon and the flight controls?”
“It’s all set. Find a target and I’ll keep you apprised of the feedback.”
“Now you’re talking,” said John.
John sat in the pilot chair. He slid the chair forward in the rails until he was snug against the counter. Doing so changed the plasma screen from standby mode to a read-out of flight controls. Below the counter, John’s favorite joystick, throttle lever, and rudder pedals had been mounted.
“Switching to manual flight control,” John announced.
John reached forward and pressed a key on the keyboard. The ship bumped slightly.
“Everything looks good from here,” said Ari.
John gingerly grasped the
joystick. He pushed forward on the thrust control and the ship began to move. Relative speed on the display changed from zero to thirty miles per hour.
“I’m taking her to ten thousand feet,” John said.
“Roger that,” replied Ari.
John pulled back on the stick and pushed the thrust forward. With glassy smooth motion, the ship began to climb. Even though it wasn’t necessary, Ray chose to join the others and sit down. His station displayed information on the fifty caliber guns. A joystick of his own was mounted next to the keyboard.
“I’m testing remote control of the ventral guns,” Ray said.
“Understood,” said Ari.
Ray chose the ventral guns on the display and moved the joystick. According to the read-outs, the gun swiveled and elevated properly.
“Ten thousand feet,” said John, “speed is constant at five hundred miles per hour.”
“No problems here,” said Ari. “I’m switching systems control to bridge station five.”
“Okay.”
The far right monitor switched from standby to read-out mode. A few seconds later Ari appeared on the bridge and took her seat. Tycho barked at her.
“I’m getting a constant signal degradation of twelve percent,” said Seth.
“All right,” Ari said, “I’m not seeing any packet loss on my end. Let me know if the degradation increases.”
“I will.”
“Increasing elevation to thirty thousand feet,” said John. “Increasing speed to Mach One.”
The ship vibrated slightly. Bright sunlight streamed onto the bridge.
“All systems in the green,” Ari said.
“External temperature fifteen degrees,” said Christie. “Internal pressure holding at one bar.”
“I’m satisfied,” said John. “Let’s see what she can do. Ray, find us some targets.”
Ray smiled. “Well, there’s the aircraft graveyard in Arizona. We should have plenty of safe targets there.”
“Do you know exactly where it is?”
“No.”
“Seth, set a course for the geographical center of Arizona.”
“Understood,” said Seth.
The information appeared on John’s screen. He pressed a few keys and the ship fell into a new course.
Reckless Faith Page 27
