by M. Alan Marr
Not having a lot of stuff to unpack, Steve does what he can, then gets right to work on the ledger, keeping track of the previous hotel bills, and accounting for every cent spent on Oasis or his crew. It had stormed all day—perfect weather for catching up on paperwork.
An urgent call come in from Triad Airlines Crew Scheduling asking Chaz—begging him—to cover a very last-minute flight to London. The flight is running nearly five hours late after the same line of thunderstorms parked over Atlanta. The originally scheduled crew had run out of duty time to legally conduct the flight, so reserve pilots were called in. The snag came when the reserve first officer slipped in the parking lot and hurt her back. Now the flight is uncovered and about to be canceled. Chaz doesn’t want to see almost three hundred passengers stranded in Atlanta, so he agrees to take the flight and deadhead back as a passenger the next day. Now in go-mode, Chaz quickly changes into uniform. Dev calls downstairs to have the Gillespie car service ready to speed Chaz to the airport.
***
2335 HOURS
It’s late, but Steve is sitting in his new office organizing paperwork and invoices, and setting up separate files for his two-aircraft fleet.
At the Gillespie, Dev is outside on the terrace, gazing up at the stars. The terrace is still wet from the rainstorms that finally moved off to the east. His neck eventually tells him he’s looked up long enough, and he returns to the study.
Tonight, the large wall screen in Dev’s study displays a graphic of the continents and a single arc extending from Atlanta to London with a tiny airplane about a third of the way along its course. It is Chaz’s flight.
The flight tracker suddenly flicks off, and quickly repopulates with Dev’s cosmos program, a special program of Dev’s design. A stellar navigation chart is rendered on the screen. An urgent alert tone sounds. Dev stands and watches the information. A small target is plotted near Constellation Triangulum. Dev watches as a trajectory line intersects the target. The computer adjusts the screen’s orientation and plots target’s projected terminus: Earth.
“Shit.” Dev grabs his Ti-Phone and selects a number that rings once.
“This is Steve.”
The urgency in Dev’s voice is obvious. “Steve, I need a favor.”
Chapter 5
SHOOTING STAR
☆ ☆
Dev drives faster and more aggressively than he should toward the airport after picking Steve up. One of Chaz’s running jackets covers Dev’s flight suit and holstered weapon.
The navigation screen in the Range Rover, ‘updated’ with Tertian software, plots out a few flashing red dots along the highway: police cars. There are also dynamic radiating fan symbols appearing on certain overpasses that Dev factors into his speed, slowing when necessary, and speeding up when in the clear. Steve sits in the passenger seat pensively observing. He notices Dev is wearing tall boots with his pant legs tucked in. While he’s not commenting on Dev’s fashion choice, he is wondering what the hell is going on. Something is clearly wrong, and his employer isn’t talking as he weaves through traffic, speeding their way toward Hartsfield Airport. Dev suddenly slows down to the speed limit; a segue for Steve to use to ask what’s going on, but then he sees the police car and suddenly makes the connection that Dev’s GPS is showing exactly where all the speed traps are. Once out of range, Dev floors the gas pedal and takes the exit toward the airport.
Dev nearly screeches to a stop at the corporate flight area gate and enters his personal code into the keypad. Dev hits the gas once again as the gate opens and barely clears it. He turns down the lineup of aircraft and heads toward the Oasis 767. Steve is about to ask definitively what’s going on when Dev passes the nose of the 767 and comes to a grinding halt next to the still unpainted floatplane.
“I hope you can fly this thing,” Dev says, getting out of the truck and slamming the door behind him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Steve gets out of the truck and is about to object, but Dev has already removed the chocks on the right side and is climbing up the pontoon to unlock the door of the Beaver.
“Grab those chocks,” Dev orders as he climbs into the seat. Steve pulls the wheel chocks and tosses them off to the side. From inside the plane, Dev opens the left-hand door and speaks with urgency in his voice. “I need you to hurry, Steve.”
Steve has never seen Dev acting like this before. He gives in and climbs up. “Dev, what’s going on?”
“We have to get going.”
“What? Where?”
“Alabama.”
Steve doesn’t know what to do at this point. He’s worked on a few radial engines as a mechanic, but he’s never flown an aircraft with one. And he’s never flown anything on floats. This aircraft is old, virtually unfamiliar, and it’s been years since Steve has flown a small plane. The sight picture is different. The Beaver’s control panel is archaic. It’s got four retractable wheels in the pontoons for landing and taxiing on the ground, which presents its own set of unfamiliar challenges, since the only single-engine planes Steve has ever flown were on tricycle landing gear. The fact that it’s the dead of night doesn’t help matters, either.
“Dev, this is nuts. I’ve never flown one of these before. This thing is older than both of us.”
“If you don’t fly it, I will,” Dev says firmly, then adds, “It would probably be better if you did it.”
Steve begrudgingly runs the short checklist, advances the mixture lever to full rich, and figures out how to engage the starter. The big radial engine jerks to life, belching out a cloud of smoke. The engine is much louder than either of them expected. Steve brings the mixture control back slightly until the engine smooths out. He finds the switches for the outside navigation lights and rotating beacon and a knob for the interior panel lights. Everything seems okay on the basic panel, that is, they have oil pressure, rpm, and manifold pressure. The fuel tanks indicate full.
“Dev, we really need to talk about this.”
“Not now.”
Against his better judgment, Steve turns on the taxi light and slowly advances the throttle. Awkwardly, the Beaver begins moving forward. Steve cranes his neck to make sure he clears the Range Rover, and then turns the Beaver toward the exit of the corporate ramp. Along the way he calls the tower for visual departure clearance. It’s late and air traffic is minimal. The tower clears the floatplane for takeoff on the nearest intersecting runway. Steve takes a deep breath, then turns onto the runway. Again, against all his better judgment, he slowly advances the throttle. The large—loud—radial engine powers up, and the aged floatplane rolls down the runway. Steve glances between the airspeed indicator and the concrete. Speed builds, and Steve can feel the plane wanting to lift off. He adds a little back pressure to the control yoke and gets the Beaver airborne and climbing. He banks around and heads toward the Georgia border. The newest thing in the airplane are the radios and navigation unit, and even they’re twenty years old. Dev enters the latitude and longitude of their destination into the RNAV unit from memory.
“You okay, Steve?”
Steve takes a confident breath. “I think so. This really isn’t how you’re supposed to get checked out in a new aircraft, Dev.”
The flight takes an hour. A very long hour in a very loud, old plane. Even with their headphones on, it is still loud. At three thousand feet, they are below altitudes requiring ATC contact. Steve looks at the navigation unit and sees they are only a few miles away.
“We’re coming up on the coordinates, Dev.”
Dev recognizes the geography in the moonlight. He looks out his window and points to the lake. “There.”
Steve dips the right wing down to see what Dev is pointing at. His eyes bulge when he sees the moon reflecting off the lake. “What? There’s no runway?” Steve gasps. “Dev, I’m not rated to land on water, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do it at night!”
“Why not?”
“You can’t see the surface, for one
thing.” Steve shakes his head. “There’s got to be an airport around here somewhere. Why don’t I find one and land there?”
“This is an emergency, Steve! Land the damn plane!”
Steve has never known Dev to be irrational or impulsive, and has never heard him raise his voice before. Something has gone terribly wrong tonight. Steve slows the airplane as much as he can without stalling the wing and circles around the lake. The moon is bright enough, he can see the entire area clearly. No rocks appear to be protruding out of the water, or casting shadows in the light.
“Dev, this is crazy. We’re going to get killed if I try to land on a dark lake!”
Dev looks at the detection ‘app’ on his Ti-Phone and sees there is no one around for miles. “What if I illuminate the lake?”
“You have lights in the water?”
“Just get ready to land, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Steve doesn’t know what to do. He looks for signs of where the wind is coming from. He sees a breeze stirring up the moonlight in the water, which at least breaks up the glassiness of the surface. “This is not a good idea.”
Dev is quickly programming his Ti-Phone and links with his Recon ship hidden at the bottom of the lake. He presses an initiator key, and all the lights on the port and starboard sides of the ship switch on. Down in the water below, a bright glow fans outward, lighting up a good part of the lake. As the lights rotate upward, the illuminated water above the ship glows blue-white, looking almost like a runway shrouded in low fog.
Steve can’t believe his eyes. “Whoa!”
“Can you see?”
“How did you do that?”
“Steve!”
Steve lowers the wing flaps and starts his approach pattern. He turns on final approach along the long side of the lake. His speed is as slow as he dares. One hundred feet . . . fifty feet . . . He looks over at the landing gear lever and realizes the wheels for a land-landing are still extended. “Shit!” He quickly raises the lever, retracting the wheels into the pontoons. “That would have been really bad.”
The pontoons touch down on the illuminated water. The sound of landing on water is nothing Steve is used to. Nervously, he begins to throttle back a little. He doesn’t want to go to full idle because it will cause the nose of the plane to suddenly dip, and if the tips of the pontoons catch the edge of the water, the plane will flip right over. As the water’s friction slows the plane, Steve pulls back on the control yoke to keep as much weight on the tail as he can, simultaneously easing the power back. Just like a speedboat, the Beaver settles farther down and slows greatly as water washes around the pontoons. He exhales and takes several deep breaths, as if he hasn’t breathed in minutes.
“Uh . . . ”
“What is it?” Dev says.
“I’m not really sure how to stop this thing. It’s not like we have brakes.”
But the surface friction of the water is actually a very good brake, and Steve even has to add power to taxi toward the shore. Dev directs him to the clearing to the west and deactivates the lake lights.
The floatplane comes to a gentle stop as the pontoons ground out on the beach. Steve quickly kills the engine, since Dev already has his door open.
“Thanks, Steve,” Dev says. “Go on home now.”
Dev climbs out of the plane and closes the door behind him just as the propeller stops. He cautiously walks forward on the pontoon and leaps onto solid ground. Steve kills the master switch and all lights go out. Dev stops momentarily after the lights go out and activates the flashlight on his phone. Steve grabs a flashlight off the aircraft sidewall and goes after Dev.
“Dev—”
“Go home!”
Steve looks around. “Dev, we’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m not just gonna leave you here.”
“I don’t have time to talk about it!”
“What in the hell is happening?” Steve whispers to himself, and then runs after Dev. “I’m not leaving!”
“Fine, stay, but don’t freak out!”
Great, Steve thinks. Whenever anyone says don’t freak out, you can bet your ass you’re going to. He hurries after Dev, who is twenty yards or so away from him, negotiating the skinny rocky shore between the water’s edge and the forest. Steve catches up, nearly tripping on the slick rocks. “Dev, tell me what the hell is going on!”
“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dev says. “I had hoped to break this to you gently.”
“You’re freaking your chief pilot out, Dev.”
“Unavoidable,” Dev replies as he reaches a small gravelly area about a quarter-mile from where they started. He switches off his Ti-Phone light. Steve slips on the gravel and falls. Dev helps him up.
Steve catches his breath. “How did you do that? How did you light up the lake?”
“With this.” Dev says as holds up his Ti-Phone.
“With your phone?”
“Not exactly,” Dev says, programming a different sequence.
“What are you doing?”
“Just picking up something I left here.”
“Oh, God, please don’t let it be a dead body.”
Dev looks at him at that non-sequitur, pauses, and then presses an initiator icon on his iPhone. A small area in the lake suddenly erupts in bubbles and the sound of technology powering up. Steve is startled and directs his flashlight out at the lake, where he sees the disturbance and large upwelling of water.
“What the fuck!”
“I’m doing that,” Dev says.
“Doing what!”
“Trust me.”
Water swells upward as Dev’s fighter breaks through the surface. There is plenty of moonlight to plainly see what’s going on. Steve watches in amazement, his jaw proverbially hitting the floor. He drops his flashlight on the ground.
“Pick up your flashlight, Steve.”
Steve bends down but doesn’t take his eyes off the fighter, which appears perfectly dry as it emerges from the lake.
“Steve!” Dev barks, triggering him to snap out of it and pick up the flashlight. The ship slowly approaches the beach, prompting Steve to back away slightly. Dev takes Steve’s arm to steady him. The nose of the ship is now at the shoreline. Dev unzips his jacket and flings it onto a nearby bush, then jumps onto the nose of the ship and quickly offers Steve a hand. Steve hesitates for a moment, noticing Dev’s flight suit, shoulder boards, and weapon. Dev beckons for Steve, who somewhat mindlessly takes his hand. Dev pulls him up in a swift, effortless move.
“I can explain this,” Dev says as he cautiously walks across the top of the fuselage to the opening cockpit canopies. “Watch your step.” Dev climbs in and takes the left seat.
“I’m afraid to ask what this is.”
“We’re on a schedule, Steve. Get in or get off.” He adds, “It would be better if you got in.”
Steve abandons his misgivings and climbs aboard. He is startled by the seat automatically adjusting to the proper position. Dev is quickly activating switches and pushing buttons, causing the starter generator to begin spooling up. Steve looks at the strange switches and graphics. It sounds like a jet, but what the hell kind of jet is this? He’s about to raise that very question when the starter surges its power into the main engines, both startling and distracting him. Doesn’t sound like a jet now . . . As the four engines power up, the three-dimensional holographic navigation display initiates. Odd graphics populate the screens. He sees words like Gravity Drive and Weapons Status. The canopies close, while Dev puts his safety harness on.
“Buckle in, Steve,” Dev says, while continuing pushing buttons and flipping switches. Hearing the clicks of Steve’s harness, Dev jams the throttles half open. The entire Alabama mountaintop flashes like a bomb just went off as the ship launches into the night. Like a reverse meteor, the fighter streaks skyward. Security concern? Perhaps, but there’s no time to worry about what the locals might be thinking right now. A wide-eyed Steve looks out the side of the canopy. He barely notices the shockwave tha
t quickly passes behind them. The silver moonlit ground beneath them begins to take on a curved appearance, brighter toward the west. The curvature goes full-on round. Steve’s mouth gapes as he turns around and watches the Earth falling swiftly away. Mouth still open, Steve slowly turns forward and is startled by the large, fast-approaching moon and actually ducks. “Holy shit!”
Dev banks the fighter toward the dark side of the moon. Steve looks through the upper canopy in amazement as the lunar landscape fills his field of vision. The brightness quickly gives way to a darker landscape. Steve is now seeing something only few astronauts ever have, the dark side of the moon. Dev, using the moon’s gravity as an assist, heads the fighter out into the stars. Steve takes a couple of breaths and then slowly turns to his employer.
Dev looks at him and speaks calmly. “You okay?”
Steve answers nervously. “I don’t know. What exactly is happening?”
“Steve, you may have noticed this is a spacecraft.”
“Jesus.”
“Let me explain . . . ”
chapter 6
SHOOTING STARS
☆ ☆
“Holy fucking shit!” Steve exclaims, forgetting the whole employee-to-employer decorum he recently chided Jen on. “You and Chaz?”
“No,” Dev says. “Chaz is from Atlanta.”
“I thought Chaz was from California.”
“My point is, Chaz is a local.”
“And you’re, for real, not from Earth?”
“Seriously?”
“What exactly are we doing now?”
Dev points to the inbound target on the detection grid. “That target is an enemy ship heading for Earth.”
“What?” Steve says. “Whose enemy?”
“Our enemy. Ours collectively.”
“Who are they?”
“The Yeti,” Dev replies.
“The Yeti? Like the Abominable Snowman Yeti?”
“The very same.”
