by Bob Mauldin
“Control room,” Kitty declared. “Or more appropriately, the bridge. And not a soul in sight. If anywhere, this is the place I would think to find someone. Ten people to operate the entire ship. That doesn’t seem right.”
“Maybe,” Gayle offered as she walked through the room examining the consoles, “ten is all it takes to command it in flight. And at that, there would have to be some kind of shifts, wouldn’t there? We assume these people sleep from the fact that they have beds, so we have to assume that they get tired and need to be relieved.”
“And of course,” Simon finally getting a word in edge-wise, “there are other people to run other stuff. We’ve only been on three decks, now. Computer, did this plague you mentioned kill them all?”
“Yes.”
“So the alien said,” Simon said. “So, we ask questions about how to run this ship and you answer them?”
“As much as I can. There are very large portions of my database that have been deleted.”
“By whom and for what reason?” Gayle asked.
“Unknown.”
“And now we die, too?” This from Kitty as she sat down in the single, central chair.
“No. The records that continue to exist appear to define the plague as species-specific.”
“You keep using words like ‘I’ and ‘my.’ Are you self-aware? And what are your functions?” Gayle asked.
“No. My functions are to oversee the operations of the factory levels, calculate courses, and estimate threat levels under hostile conditions.”
“Factories? Threat levels?” Ever the master of understatement, Kitty said, “I think we need a lot more information than we have at the moment. Tell us everything you can.”
“Yes, Captain. My construction was completed just over a year ago as time is measured on the planet below ...”
CHAPTER SIX
“Sir, we have a preliminary report on Event Alpha,” the dark-suited young man said.
“Yes?” John Porter, Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency, took a few seconds to switch gears. He gave a harried look at the folders in the young agent’s hands.
“The event in Montana, Sir,” the agent said, knowing his boss’ propensity to focus on one thing at a time.
“Ah, yes.” The light came on. “I hope we managed to salvage something from the situation.”
“Well, Sir, we did find the spot where the unknown landed. It managed to get away just as forward elements of one of our air cav units arrived on the scene. I have the radar records of both the landing and the departure. I also have radar and visual records of the F-16 that actually got within range. Audio tapes of the conversation between the pilots have been provided as well. And NORAD tracked the vessel back out of atmosphere until it disappeared from their screens. No reason was given for the disappearance.”
At a gesture from the Director, the agent set the pile of folders and tape cases on the edge of the antique desk. At a signal he sat down in the straight-backed chair opposite his boss. “Put it in a nutshell for me, Agent. I have to make a report to the President later today.”
The young man started his recitation. “We have evidence of recent use at a local campsite across the lake from the landing site. The place was pretty well cleaned up, but we managed to come away with quite a bit of Intel. Near the edge of the hill, overlooking the site, we found blood. We were able to come up with an exact DNA match. One Katherine Anne Hawke of Billings. Did research work in particle physics at MIT some time back. We also found a telescope on top of the ridge with an inscription on it. ‘Merry Christmas, Simon. Love, Kittyn.’ We pulled positive prints of both suspects off the telescope. Our forensics teams found a strange background radiation and something very crispy that they are pretty certain wasn’t conceived on this planet.”
The agent went on. “We didn’t have to look far to find Simon Hawke, either. Metaphorically speaking, I mean,” the agent said.
“I don’t have the time or temper for metaphors, Agent. Finish this.”
“Yes Sir. Simon Andrew Hawke. And an interesting individual he is, Sir. It seems that he’s a former member of this very Agency. Left fifteen years ago after getting side-lined for getting married. Seems he wasn’t cut out for military life, so he crossed over when he had a difference of opinion with Army higher-ups. Made an effective agent, his most notable case was the Conroy affair about sixteen years back. The physicist smuggling secrets to China. He’s been living in Billings, Montana for the past fifteen years, which is just about five hundred miles from the event site. And with his wife’s blood on the ridge and fingerprints of both on-scene, we can pretty much wrap this up as soon as we get our hands on either of the Hawkes. The agent flipped a page on his clipboard. “One other thing: the ALERT team leader ran down the same information. He sent someone in to find Hawke. It seems that he and his wife are out of town. Annual spring camping trip or some such, according to some chatty neighbors.”
The Director’s expression was not one that would be found on a happy face. “So what do I have to tell the President? This was just the break we needed to put us ahead for good. No one would ever be able to threaten the U.S. again.” The Director looked the agent in the eye. “You get Hawke in here immediately. I want it spread quietly to every police agency in the country that Simon and Katherine Hawke are to be taken alive. I want as much on this guy as we can get. Then we’ll know who has what to say.”
Kitty went to bed thinking about the implications of what they could actually do. The next day a long and involved interrogation of the computer was begun by the three humans as one question led to another, one topic to another. It lasted until what would have been early hours for most from their time zone, the adrenaline level just too high. Among other things, it turned out that the ship had teleportation technology. This would prove invaluable to the three conspirators, for that was surely what they had become.
Finding this second, larger, ship had changed all of Kitty’s ideas. No way could this technology be given to any governmental or quasi-governmental group, or sooner or later one of the bigger nations would gobble it up whole and begin to wring its secrets from it for their own military gain bringing about the very future they were trying to avoid. And now, with the discovery of the existence of the larger ship, even Simon recognized the wisdom of not giving it up.
The need to rest finally made itself felt. The three strolled back to their vehicles in the shuttle where Simon prepared dinner from canned goods, an ice chest and a Coleman stove. The trip back up to the third level gave them time to talk more about future plans. “If we’re going to keep it, we need to learn as much as we can about it,” Simon said. “None of us have the grounding to do more than be button pushers here. We need to have at least a basic understanding of what type of forces we’re dealing with, or we’re going to get bit in the ass. And sooner rather than later.”
“What do you suggest?” Kitty asked. “I’m still thinking of you as the team leader. You’ve got the expertise in this type of situation.”
“There’s never been a situation like this!” Simon exploded. “Getting the ship, any ship, if we could, was part and parcel of our mission statement, the mission statement, that is,” Simon said, stressing his self-distancing from the decision. “But development of its technology was supposed to take years. And we were just in acquisitions, so to speak. Hell, look how long it took for fiber optics to get into general use after what supposedly crashed at Roswell got taken apart down at Groom Lake. The predictions were that it would be years before we understood enough about the technology to keep from blowing anything up.”
“So, what do we do?” Gayle asked. Simon looked at her, his face devoid of expression. “Hey! Don’t give me any of that!” she protested loudly when Simon looked her way with his favorite blank look. “Remember, I just found out you’re a spy. I guess that’s what comes from letting your best friend marry outside their community, huh?”
Kitty grinne
d at her friend and shook her head slightly. Simon shook his harder and focused on Gayle. “I’m sorry, Gayle. I was concentrating on your question, to be honest. And don’t blame Kitty. I never told her everything. National security and need to know clauses in my contract. I resigned for the good of the service after I couldn’t hack a desk job. So that makes it was a spy.”
“Kitty said that you weren’t cut out to sit around all day. That was true?”
“As far as it went,” Simon admitted, leaning back in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. “The thing is, the Agency, the DIA, that is, doesn’t approve of married field agents. If you have those kinds of ties, a wife, kids, a life outside the Agency, you’re less likely to take advantage of delicate circumstances when they present themselves. So, I got sidelined. Made a handler for other, active agents. Didn’t work for me, so I quit. Came to Billings, you know the rest.”
Gayle looked at Simon as if she had just met him. “Do you miss it? The adventure of all that spy stuff?”
Simon smiled, his eyes focused on something she couldn’t see. “I wasn’t James Bond, kiddo. Most of what I did was boring. Footwork, paperwork, details. I spent a lot of time in libraries. As a matter of fact, that’s how I met Kitty. Not in a library, but because of one. I needed to know a little bit about low temperature physics for the assignment at MIT where I met Kitty.”
Gayle persisted. “You still haven’t answered the question. What do we do?”
“We do the same thing any other team does when it finds itself in need of assistance,” Simon said. “We follow the manual on this.” The looks of confusion on both faces made him laugh outright. “We call in experts.” He had leaned forward to stress his point and resettled into a different position in the chair.
Kitty looked sharply at her husband. “I thought we wanted to keep this ship out of government hands?”
“We do, I do,” he said, emphasizing the second syllable. “We find our own experts. Actually, all we have to do is locate one. Someone with a background that would let him or her accept all this,” he waved his hands vaguely, “and a background that will let them bring together enough like-minded individual scientists as possible to give us a good working knowledge of the ships’ systems; if not why they work, at least how they work. We find our initial contact outside the usual channels and let him or her pick the next candidates.”
Gayle was perplexed and it showed. “So we get some scientists to tell us what we can and can’t push. We’re still going to need a crew. Where are we going to get them and how are we going to make sure that they will follow orders? Or won’t form cliques and try to take over or something? And just what will we be doing with this thing?”
“All good questions, Gayle,” Simon said easily. “Who do we know ourselves who would believe us without proof? Let’s start out with our closest friends, and whoever we contact first. As for the rest of your questions, I have only one answer.”
Simon looked over at Kitty. “I know how you feel about martial law from some of the things you’ve said over the years, Dear. But, I think that the only way to control a group as disparate as the one we are contemplating is going to be through some form of military rule. How are you going to feel about being a part of that?”
Kitty thought for a moment before she replied. “It depends on what we’re going to do with the technology. I do get a voice in this.”
Simon nodded. “Of course you do, after all you’re the Captain, the ship answers to you because of that wristband. But we have to find out what we’ve got before we can decide what we can do with it. I believe that this ship belongs to the whole planet, not just one country. At least until the original owners show up to claim their property. I want to be very careful about what we tell the world in general and when, so we don’t cause too much disturbance in the economies of the world. Best way to do that is to take the, what did the computer call her, Dalgor Kreth, out to the asteroid belt and build her twin, just in case her real owners show up. Then we can give her back without any loss. We’ll recruit crew the same way we recruit scientists. I’d say that we should build a cadre of people loyal to us personally before we start letting a lot of relative strangers aboard.”
Gayle said, “I know just the right bunch! My little brother and some of his friends would love to get in on this. I’m sure of it.” Simon smiled at Gayle’s statement. Grant Miller had definitely received the height in the family. Standing six-foot-three, he was about average in the post-high school football team crowd that he was often found with. Bring Grant and his buddies aboard with Gayle being Head of Security for a time, and then the real business of figuring out this nightmare could begin.
“Good idea, Gayle.” Simon slapped the arm of the chair. “I like the way you think. We have to work on our friends and acquaintances and let them do the same to others in their other circles of friends.” Gayle beamed at the compliment, but it didn’t last long. “I figure we all need to start taking on responsibilities in getting this enterprise underway. And you getting Grant and his friends is just a start. Satisfied, Kitty?”
Some misgivings showing on her face, she nodded slowly. “Okay. But just because we set up on a military structure, I don’t want to lose the ... the,” Kitty searched for a word. “Oh, I don’t know how to say it. See, the government knows we’ve got the ship, but not who we are. They’re gonna try to make us out to be the bad guys, when I think most people might come around to our way of thinking. I want us to be the good guys in this.”
Simon nodded. “We’ll find our scientist. You two can do it from home. I’ll lay a few false trails Earth-side and get in touch with some of my old platoon. I know one who will be perfect for Security Officer.”
Kitty worriedly asked, “Dear, how are we going to move bunches of people around without getting caught at it sooner or later?”
“We’ll use the transporter technology to simply beam in and out. You heard what the computer said: line of sight and inside most buildings, but not underground.”
“Simply,” Kitty said, mimicking Simon. “You’re willing to trust yourself to that kind of technology?”
“Not without some testing,” Simon admitted. “I’d say send down something very expendable, like a bag of trash. When we beam it back up, if it still looks like trash, I’ll try it myself. We’ll still have to get us and the vehicles back to the surface, though, so that means at least one more shuttle trip.
“Oh, yeah. Gayle can pull into her driveway and beam out, no chance of her being touched. I, on the other hand, want to know what they know. The questions they ask and don’t ask will tell me a lot. I’ll just have to improvise to get out. I’ll bet they ID you from the little blood you left behind. My telescope was engraved with both our names and Gayle is our best friend. There’s no way we’re just gonna be able to walk around loose. Going to the house is the only option I have to learn anything. And they know I’m an ex-agent. They’ll be on their toes for the little tricks I know. I’m almost sorry that you’re going to miss the dance.
“We’re about to be investigated to hell and back, Dear, so we better have an air-tight transportation system. The shuttles are good, but now that they are known, I’d rather not use ‘em for a while. So, we’ll do a lot of transporting.”
“Well, I’m gonna need some things from home. All of us are,” Kitty said. “How safe would it be to transport into the house and back out again?”
Simon thought about it a minute. “I’ll bet they’ve got our phone tapped, computer bugged, and audio and video pickups all over the house by now. Why not just appropriate what you need from a store and leave a voucher saying the U.S. government will take care of the bill? Sign your name and I’ll bet they do it,” he finished, laughing.
Gayle applauded lightly. “That might just work. You think on your feet pretty well.”
Simon shook his head. “If you can’t think on your feet in this business, you’re dead,” he said with a straight face.
“I’m not exaggerating. And as far as thinking on my feet is concerned, I’m about out of the ability to do that until I get some rest. I think I’m going to go find a bed.”
Kitty’s own face was carefully blank until the door closed behind him. She looked at Gayle and just said, “I’ve got to sleep on it too, but I do have some reservations.”
Simon woke from a restless night. The gravity thing kept him thinking he was falling every time he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds. The dreams didn’t make it easy to rest, either. A trip to the shower, running water over a body works just about the same for all bipedal races, reduced the irritability enough that he was able to face the world at last. He found clean clothes laid out on the bed and a piece of the yellow notepad on top. “Meet us on the bridge.”
Simon, Kitty and Gayle sat around a too-tall table in too-tall chairs in a suite of rooms they had started calling the captain’s quarters. Gayle now wore a wristband like Kitty’s. The girls had gotten up earlier than Simon and explored more of Level Three. One room boasted a machine that would custom-fit a band for any wearer. The first order of business was to get one fitted to Simon’s arm.
A door led directly from the bridge to the Captain’s briefing room and quarters, and was the only set of rooms to have a private bedroom and bath, as well as the fact that the amount of space allowed for a lot more people to be coming and going. It boasted the only living room they had so far seen aboard the ship, as well as a room they called a private office, connected to a smaller room that was connected to the main corridor. “Looks like any standard office I’ve ever seen,” Kitty said as she walked around the suite. “Secretary sits out here, at the desk. The big boss sits in there.” She nodded toward the inner office as she looked over an instrument panel on the small desk.
