Reckless Faith

by David Kantrowitz

  “Increasing speed to Mach Two,” John said.

  The ship vibrated momentarily and then smoothed out.

  “How’s our energy output?” said Dana.

  “Holding steady at zero point zero zero zero one five percent,” said Christie.

  “She’s barely awake,” said John. “Seth, what is our maximum sub-atmospheric speed?”

  “Maximum speed to maintain stealth mode is forty-two hundred miles per hour. Above this speed stealth will be compromised.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Friction will become too high. I will become a visible ball of fire.”

  “Cool, but not what we’re looking for. I’m increasing speed to Mach Five.”

  It was a matter of a few minutes travel time and a quick search by Seth before the crew found the aircraft graveyard. It was so massive that they easily located several targets that were almost a full two miles away from the nearest human on the ground.

  “The Reckless Faith declares war on Arizona!” John cried.

  John began a near vertical dive from thirty thousand feet, which was almost imperceptible by motion but dizzyingly obvious by sight. The crew offered various expressions of shock and discomfort as John added a tight port spin to the dive.

  “Is that really necessary?” Ray said through gritted teeth.

  “Of course not. Banzai!”

  John pulled back on the throttle and pulled up before planting the ship into the desert. It was too much for even Seth to compensate for and the crew experienced triple the normal gravity. Everybody but John groaned. Ray struggled to keep his breakfast down.

  “First target locked!” John said, grinning like a madman.

  A low hum came up from below the deck as the main forward cannon spun up. John opened fire. A hellish cacophony of pounding thunder filled the ship, just barely muffled by the single deck that separated the bridge from the cannon. The remains of a DC-10 on the ground looked as if it had been hit by a bomb. The pre-programmed twenty round burst was over in a split second. The Faith swooped over the target. Dana locked in an external view on her screen.

  “Holy cow, I’d say you got it,” she said.

  “I have a lock,” said Ray. “Ventral turret is ready to fire.”

  “Go for it,” said John.

  John adjusted his course to circle the target. Ray pressed the trigger and the ventral guns fired. With a rate of fire one fourth that of the main cannon, the staccato signature of the fifties was much more comprehensible. Sustained fire was also more reasonable. Dana gave Ray a thumbs-up as she observed the resulting damage to the DC-10.

  “Automatic leading is working properly,” Ray said.

  “Excellent,” said John. “Try the dorsal guns.”

  Ray switched his control to the other fifties. John banked the ship sharply to give the weapons proper bearing on the target. An alarm sounded at Ray’s station. Ray swore quietly.

  “The dorsal turret is jammed in the track. Articulation has failed.”

  “Okay,” said John. “Try the rear cannon.”

  Ray worked his keyboard for several seconds.

  “Rear cannon is off-line.”

  “What?” said Ari, checking her screen.

  “I’m not getting any response from the rear cannon.”

  “What the hell?”

  Ari furiously typed for about a minute, then stood up quickly.

  “We’re lucky the other two weapons worked properly the first time out,” said John.

  “I’ll be in the server room,” said Ari.

  “I’m setting us down,” announced John. “Ray, you want to take a look at the dorsal gun?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Wait a minute,” Christie said. “I’m getting a lot of positive read-outs on my station. I think we should try taking the Faith into low orbit.”

  John shook his head. “We’re all excited about our progress, but I think we should get everything working absolutely perfectly before we leave orbit.”

  “I agree with Christie,” Dana said. “We’re ready to give space a try.”

  John brought the ship about and hovered above the desert. He looked at Ray.

  “Why not?” said Ray.

  “Take a chance,” said Ari, her eyes twinkling.

  Tycho barked.

  “Home is calling us,” said Seth.

  John shrugged. “Hell, why not indeed? Better to die now than later when we’re even more overconfident.”

  “Sweet!” exclaimed Dana.

  “Prepare the ship for space flight!” John said.

  “What do you mean, prepare her?” said Ari, frowning.

  “It just sounded good. Take a seat everybody; I’m not going to hold back.”

  “Great,” Ray said.

  John pulled back on the stick and shoved the throttle forward. The ship jumped into action. The crew found themselves pressed up against their chairs as John again pushed the limit of Seth’s momentum compensation abilities. Seth had told them he would make sure to keep gravitational variance within human tolerances, but stuff like this was beginning to make the others doubt. After a minute or so, their bodies caught up with the rest of the ship and they were able to regain their balance. John was flying straight up at full speed, heedless of Seth’s warning about their stealth abilities. Bright orange flames began to streak from the bow and past the windows. It was terrifyingly quiet save for the rhythmic throbbing of the engine. Christie remembered to start paying attention to her screen again.

  “Exterior temperature four thousand degrees Fahrenheit!” she exclaimed.

  “We’re leaving the atmosphere now,” said John.

  The bright blue of the Arizona sky faded into black. Gradually the flames disappeared, and inky darkness replaced them. The exterior temperature read-out on Christie’s screen began to drop rapidly, as did oxygen, nitrogen, and just about everything else.

  “Calculate an orbital path,” John said, apparently to Seth.

  Dana’s screen unexpectedly displayed the information requested.

  “Uh, piece of cake,” Dana said.

  Dana transferred the information to John’s station. John plugged the data into his flight controls and settled the ship into orbit. He rolled the ship over 180 degrees so that they could look up and see the Earth. Ray groaned in protest.

  “My God,” said Christie. “It’s beautiful.”

  The Earth at 350 miles filled almost the entire viewscreen. North America was the most obvious feature, with only a few areas obscured by clouds. The crew stared out of the windows in awe. With the engines quiet, it was the most peaceful scene any of them had ever experienced. A gentle alarm sounded from Christie’s panel, distracting her.

  “I’ve got subtle variations in the artificial gravity field. It looks like Seth isn’t used to it quite yet.”

  “Keep an eye on it,” said John. “Seth, lights at ten percent.”

  The bridge grew dark. John rolled the ship back over. This time, they were met with the unhindered and perfectly clear starfield of the Milky Way.

  “It’s so... deep,” said Ari. “You never get this sense of depth from the surface.”

  “Whatever happens on this journey, I doubt boredom is going to be a problem.”

  __________

  October 22, 2003

  Devonai and Richter were fed up with being bored. Another daily meeting with Hill had gone by, uneventful as usual. Their lack of activity had reached a critical point, and Devonai and Richter had but one recourse: a trip to the range.

  The two men had loaded up their Expedition with handguns, rifles, shotguns, machine guns, and grenades. It was catharsis, CIA style.

  The only appropriate range for this kind of firepower was over at Devens Reserve Training Area, formerly known as Fort Devens. Arrangements had been made twenty-four hours in advance, and Devonai and Richter were good to go. Stuff needed to get blown to hell.

  Devonai put the Expedition in gear and began to pull out of the parking
garage. Omega Group shared a State Police armory buried underneath a government building on Beacon Hill, much to the bemusement of the troopers stationed there. Today’s choices only elicited jealousy from the troopers. This kind of fun went across agency lines easily.

  Richter played with the radio as Devonai pulled onto the surface streets. It was a forty-five minute drive to Devens, and since they had already talked about everything they could think of over the past two weeks, he was content to let Richter find something on the airwaves. Devonai’s favorite radio program didn’t come on until three that afternoon, but he still hoped that Richter would choose the same station.

  Devonai headed south on Route 93 and thought about his path. He would pick up Route 90 and take that west until 495. A quick switch to Route 2 would put them right at Devens. In the middle of the day they shouldn’t have to contend much with traffic, so he was...

  “Wait a second,” said Devonai, as three Ford Expeditions had just passed him going the other direction on 93.

  “I saw them,” said Richter.

  “Those looked like our guys, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, it did.”

  Devonai fumbled for his cell phone, and called the office.

  “What is it, major?” answered Hill.

  “Hill, we just saw three Expeditions with government plates heading north on 93. I could have sworn I saw CO Dowling driving one of them.”

  “The DIA is investigating a lead, major. It’s probably nothing. Are you at Devens yet?”

  “Wait a minute! Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

  “It’s just a minor lead, Devonai. It wasn’t worth pulling you and Richter back from Devens.”

  “But it was worth sending our guys? Why couldn’t the DIA check it out on their own?”

  “You know what the deal is. We’re supposed to be helping each other out.”

  “What’s the lead?”

  “It’s just a possible source of information. It’s probably nothing.”

  Devonai took a deep breath. He looked at Richter. Richter shrugged. Devonai chose his next words carefully.

  “Lauren, we’ve known each other for too long for this. Don’t you dare hold back from me here. What the hell is going on?”

  “Major, I’m sorry, but you’ll be better off not knowing.”

  Devonai yanked over on the steering wheel, suicidally crossing two lanes of traffic to make the South Station exit. Richter raised an eyebrow.

  “If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out for myself.”

  “Devonai, you’re not authorized to participate in this investigation. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, but you have been removed from the mission.”

  “What are friends for?”

  “Screw you, Kyrie. I didn’t want it like this. Guilfoyle heard you talking in a sympathetic matter about the crew of the ship. You’re too emotionally involved.”

  “Emotion has nothing to do with it, for fuck’s sake!”

  Richter hit the blue lights hidden in the grill of the Expedition as Devonai broke several traffic rules. After a few near collisions they were on 93 northbound.

  Hill continued, “Their mission is to stop the ship from leaving Earth at all costs. This comes from upon high, Devonai. Do not mess with them on this one.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m the one who spoke with the crew. I have a responsibility to do what’s right.”

  “I can’t protect you if you follow them, Kyrie. You’re on your own from this moment onward.”

  “Fine. How did they get a bead on the ship’s location?”

  “An anonymous tip.”

  “Fine, don’t tell me then.”

  “That's the truth. We got an anonymous call. I’m sorry, Devonai. I can’t continue to speak to you on this matter. I hope you understand.”

  “I probably will before too long. And don’t worry, Lauren. I’m just going to discourage Guilfoyle and his team.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  28.

  “To reckless faith, and the ship that bears the name.”

  John held high his glass of champagne. For the five crewmembers gathered at the small New Hampshire restaurant, it was a solemn reminder that night could be their last on Earth. The others around the table, Ray, Ari, Christie, and Dana, each lifted their glasses in response.

  The few other patrons of the restaurant looked on with curiosity. This sort of spectacle was all but unheard of in an establishment that rarely saw outsiders past Labor Day. The bottle of champagne came out of the owner’s personal stock for a not inconsequential sum, as did the unopened twin already secreted away in John’s backpack. As the glasses were drained the eyes of the other customers returned to their own meals.

  The feast that had been consumed was of epic proportions, at least to the currently gathered group. No expense had been spared, although the restaurant wasn’t the sort to provide anything too prohibitive anyway. Ari had just enough left in her checking account to cover the visit, still surprising to her even after the long list of expenses incurred during preparations. Throwing enough cash onto the table to make the waitress very happy, Ari refilled her glass.

  “Don’t hog the grog,” said Ray.

  “Fine, here you go,” Ari said, filling Ray’s glass.

  “Take it easy, you two,” said John. “You don’t want to start off tomorrow morning with a hangover.”

  “You should relax a little bit more,” began Christie, “there will be enough time for panic later, I’m sure.”

  “Somebody has to drive us back to the Faith.”

  “You should have brought Seth with you,” said Dana. “Then we could get the Faith to come to us.”

  “I’m quite glad to be able to keep Seth out of my mind. He tends to be an untidy guest.”

  “Come on, let’s head out,” said Ray. “It is getting late.”

  Slowly, the group gathered their things. Saying goodbye to the waitress and host, they exited the restaurant. The evening was cold and clear. They crossed to Ray’s Expedition. It was the only vehicle left, since John had sold his earlier in the week. It was coming with them, to what benefit nobody knew. Only a meager 55 gallons of gasoline had been brought aboard in reserve, but Seth claimed to be able to synthesize more if the appropriate ingredients could be found.

  “You know,” began Dana, jumping into the Ford, “I might get cold feet as we’re passing Pluto. Just swing back by the Bahamas and leave me behind if so.”

  “If only it were that easy,” said John, climbing into the front passenger seat.

  “Why not? How long could it possibly take?”

  Ray got into the driver’s seat. John looked at him.

  “You never told them,” Ray said.

  John shook his head. “No.”

  “What didn’t you tell us?” asked Christie from the seat behind Ray.

  “Are you talking about the stardrive system?” Ari asked.

  “Yes,” said John. “We forgot to tell you and Dana about the limitations of the stardrive.”

  “Oh?” Dana said.

  “Yeah. The stardrive is very versatile. The pilot has a lot of control over the ship even at relatively high speeds. We can go from zero to six point seven million miles per hour in a few seconds. But to travel faster than light, the Faith has to use superluminal travel.”

  “Is that like ludicrous speed?”

  “Heh, I don’t know. It’s a special setting that will get us to Umber in six weeks, as opposed to over a thousand years at our top subluminal speed. The problem is that once superluminal operations have commenced, they can’t be shut down. Not without draining the fuel reserves so far that it would take another six weeks to recharge them.”

  Christie frowned. “I thought Seth said that he could run the ship for years off of the hydrogen atoms in the water storage tanks, or some kind of high rhetoric like that.”

  “He did. I’m not sure why it would take so long to recharge the system. The short version of the st
ory is still that once we depart for Umber, we can’t turn back. Not without wasting another six weeks on Earth. So if you’re having second thoughts, now is the time to hash them out. We depart first thing in the morning.”

  “I was mostly joking about Pluto,” said Dana, “but I’ll take your words to heart.”

  Ray turned the ignition key and fired up the Ford. He pulled the truck onto Route 25. They were only a couple of minutes away from the motel. The conversation lapsed as the dark countryside rolled by. Ray felt the need to say something.

  “You never did get your six,” he said to John.

  “Oh, well. Five will have to do.”

  “Huh?” said Dana.

  “John thought the crew might be better of with six people,” Ray said. “John must have been disappointed with you worthless dogs.”

  “Arr, ye be worthless curs,” John snarled.

  Ray steered the Expedition into the parking lot of the motel. As they drew close to the structure, Tycho came running up to greet them.

  “What the hell?” Christie said.

  “Didn’t we leave Tycho aboard the Faith?” said Ari.

  “We certainly did.”

  Everyone hopped out of the Ford. Tycho licked Christie’s hands.

  “Maybe he asked Seth to be let out,” said Dana.

  “Maybe,” replied John, “but I doubt it. Something isn’t right.”

  Ray walked towards the nearest corner of the motel.

  “Perhaps Tycho and Friday had a spat,” began Ray, “and Tycho decided he needed some space.”

  “Yeah, but come to think of it I specifically forbade Seth from allowing the animals to have control of command functions.”

  “Maybe he sneaked down the ramp after we...”

  Ray stopped talking. He had reached the corner of the building and had noticed something that he obviously didn’t like.

  “What?”

  Turning swiftly, Ray headed back to the vehicle. He opened the back gate.

  “What is it?” Ari asked.

  “There are three black Ford Expeditions parked back there. They have government plates.”

  “Holy shit,” Dana whispered.

  John and Ray threw open the rear compartment of the Ford. Below the panel were John’s Garand and one of their recently acquired M1A rifles. John grabbed his rifle and handed the M1A to Ray. There was one magazine in the M1A and one spare attached to a buttstock pouch. John’s Garand had a bandoleer of clips next to it.