The Third Craft Page 7

  Reality came back with a rumble and a sudden jerking force that threw him forward from the chair onto the control panel. A second later, and just as unexpected, there was a force in the opposite direction. Joe crashed back into his chair. It had all happened in the wink of an eye. He looked to where his bike had been. It was gone.

  Joe’s hands flew to the control panel. Sensors indicated that the vessel was hovering thirty feet above the planet’s surface. He touched a few more buttons. The deck beneath his feet dissolved before his eyes. The floor had disappeared. Instantly, he jumped up and clawed for the chair. It appeared as if he would fall to the ground below. His eyes saw the ground before his brain remembered that there was a firm deck at his feet.

  He giggled nervously, still clinging to his chair. He slid down and placed one foot, then the other, carefully onto the transparent deck. It was as if he were levitating above the ground. His face became one big fat grin as the significance of his achievement began to dawn on him. He looked up and then down, then all around him. He began to circle the chair, keeping one hand on it as he walked slowly around. His Suzuki was directly below him. The treetops were at eye level. The giant crater where the vessel had crash-landed was now empty.

  The ship was programmed to break the gravitational pull, stop, and hover. Having learned how to perform various flight commands during his time in the Learning Stall, Joe had practiced a crude version of this program prior to takeoff. He had given the ship an instruction to avoid being flung into the atmosphere as the ship broke the gravity. Joe was never clear what the distance should be, because he still had difficulty mentally calibrating to English.

  Although he and Hawk had been certified private pilots since the age of sixteen, their training and instruction hardly covered anything like this.

  Joe was enthralled with the barrage of visual stimuli. The craft was completely still. There was no sense of flight or motion. Yet Joe was aware that he was flying – or whatever you call sitting perfectly still in mid-air thirty feet above the ground. He left the safety of his chair and walked, seemingly on air, toward one of the walls. All the view panels were functioning, so the view was as if Joe himself were hovering above the ground. There were no walls, floor, or ceiling to look at. He held his hand out and touched the boundary of the wall. He felt the wall. It was as if he was touching a windowpane, and yet there was no distortion. He had the sense of walking on air across the green forest canopy. A God-like experience. His senses were overwhelmed.

  Staring at the wondrous beauty around him, he lost track of time. A soft voice issued a caution. The craft was not operating at an efficiency level that would support remaining aloft for much longer. It was recommended that the vessel descend to save energy. Repairs had to be made in order to achieve prolonged flight.

  Joe knew what to do. He returned to the control panel and touched a series of lights. Without warning, the craft lost altitude and nosed toward the ground. In slow motion, it would have looked like a leaf falling to the ground. In normal time, the craft crashed, with a bone-jarring thud, back more or less into the crater it had left. The internal artificial gravity protected Joe from harm, but the crash still jarred his teeth.

  When he had been learning to fly a plane, he’d always had problems with the landings. His plane would always bleed altitude too quickly and the wheels would smack hard on the ground. Landings were definitely not Joe’s strong suit.

  CHAPTER10

  Hawk travelled down Highway 17 toward home. He avoided speeding in the Vette despite the fact that he had a nagging sense of urgency. He just wanted to get the craft all fixed up. He thought about what it would be like to rejoin his father. They would be like a family again.

  It took an hour or so to reach his house. His father had warned him about the agents and about the helicopter on its way. Hawk approached his house slowly, with the Corvette’s 427 engine barely above idle. Its throaty gurgle still sounded loud above the crunching of the gravel.

  Catching sight of the station wagon parked in front of their house, he stopped abruptly, then eased the Vette into a driveway down the block in front of an abandoned, boarded-up house out of sight. He quietly pushed the car door shut with both hands. Then he picked up the box of chemicals, walked to the side of the place, and peeked around the corner.

  Hawk jerked his head back again. Two men were sitting in the station wagon. David Bohr was sitting on the front step. He wanted to run and greet his dear friend, but he knew better. There would be time for that later.

  Decisions. Decisions. He was tempted to try reaching the crash site by foot but knew he couldn’t manage the trip because the box was too awkward and heavy. He had little doubt that Joe was at the site. He doubted he could get to the ATV in the carport without the men noticing. He paced for about ten minutes and then snuck another look. All three men were leaning against the station wagon, talking. One lit a cigar.

  Hawk figured that they were waiting to rendezvous with the helicopter. Once they were on the copter, they were sure to spot the crash site. He was running out of time. His mind came up with options.

  Plan A. He would sneak by the group, get his ATV, and hope he could get to the crash site before the chopper. He knew the plan was deficient because his move would alert the men and make him look like a fugitive.

  Plan B would be to drive up to them as if it were a perfectly normal day. He would ask them what the problem was. Would they let him take his carton, jump on the ATV, and take off? Not bloody likely. They would insist that he take them to the crash site.

  So Plan A it was. In his mind’s eye he saw the ATV roar to life. He saw himself drive past the astonished men and get to Joe before the helicopter arrived.

  He needed to hide the package before running toward his house. He could swing back with the ATV and retrieve it before going to meet Joe. He looked around. Off to one side of the driveway was a metal garden shed with two narrow sliding doors. He pried them apart and placed the awkward carton inside the shed. The doors squealed in protest as he shut them.

  Lithe as a deer, he bounded across the street toward his carport. He made his way behind a row of houses until he was directly behind his own house. As he crept up to the carport, he snuck a look at the men, who were facing away from him. He eased his way into the carport and up to the ATV.

  The keys were missing! They were kept on the kitchen counter in a saucer. Bounding up the short flight of three stairs, he entered the kitchen and went straight to the counter. The keys weren’t there. The key bowl had keys in it, but no ATV keys. He went through the drawers and checked both counter and table. No keys. Resting his hand against the kitchen counter, he took a moment to think. Was it possible that he’d left them in the ignition or on the seat of the ATV? Who drove last?

  He eased himself out through the side door that led to the carport and crept toward the ATV. He had to walk around in full view of the men in order to see if the keys were inside. If they were, he would jump in and race out of there. He leaned over and looked. No keys.

  A booming voice shattered his nerves like a pistol shot. “Looking for these?”

  Hawk jumped backward and spun around with a cry. A large man in his early sixties was dangling a set of keys from his fingers. He was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  “Yes,” was all Hawk could say. He reached for the keys instinctively.

  The man snatched them back into his palm. “Not so fast, young man.” He eyed him up and down. “Are you one of the Grayer brothers?”

  “Yes. And you are?”

  “Come with me, please.” The man gently guided Hawk’s elbow toward the street. Gesturing toward his vehicle he said, “I believe you know these two gentlemen.”

  Bohr launched himself from his leaning position against the side of the wagon toward Hawk. “My God, Hawk! Is that you?”

  “Dr. Bohr!” Hawk forgot about his dilemma, broke into a smile, and ran and hugged the man.

  “Look at you!” Bohr said. “Y
ou’re all grown up. And you can call me David.” Bohr pushed him away for a better perspective. “Strong and handsome as ever.”

  “Caught him trying to leave without saying hello,” the older man said as he dangled the keys from his hand.

  “Never mind the theatrics, Jim,” Bohr said, looking at the former officer. “Hawk, that gentleman is Agent Jim Preston and this is Officer Hunter. Both are RCMP.”

  “Officer Hunter and I have met. I think that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  Bohr laughed. “Of course. Of course. Almost forgot.”

  There was an awkward silence. Then Preston said, “Hawk, we would like to talk to you. Is it possible for all of us to go inside? I need to use the facilities, too.”

  “I guess. The door isn’t locked, as you know.”

  “I know,” Hunter said. Then he quickly added, “We didn’t want to barge right in. Thought we’d wait till you got home.” He quickly changed the subject. “How come you’re not at work?”

  Hawk studied Hunter coolly. “I took a few days off.” Then he reached out his hand to Bohr and his smile returned. “Come on in.”

  The group split up when they entered. Hunter stayed in the kitchen. Preston went toward the bathroom. Hawk and Bohr walked into the small living room. They sat and looked out the dusty bay window that faced onto the deserted street. Empty except for the station wagon out front.

  “Hawk,” Bohr began in a whisper, “I’ve seen your father. He’s in Sudbury.”

  “I know, he told me.”

  “He did? When did you see him?”

  “Last night. He told me as much as he knew about why you’re here.”

  “Hawk, he asked me not to let you out of my sight.”

  “Dr. Bohr – I mean, David – my father and I trust you. It’s the others who worry him. I have known you all my life. Dad has concerns for all our safety – me, Joe, and you, too.”

  “Your father was supposed to meet me in my room last night. We’ve only had a brief conversation, yesterday afternoon. He never came back. You’re going to have to trust the whole team, Harry. Nothing will happen to any of us.”

  “Can you show me the crash site?” Bohr hissed.

  “Do you want me to take you there?”

  “Yes. Where’s Joe?”

  “He’s probably there now. He spends all his time there.”

  Bohr stood up. “Hawk, we must get to the site as soon as we can. A discovery like this is monumental. We must get on with it.”

  The two other men entered the room.

  “Hawk, we’d like you to lead us to the crash site so that we can evaluate the security situation and … such things,” Preston said.

  Hunter nodded. “Son, if this is a real spaceship, think of the security nightmare we’ve got on our hands.”

  “Please, Hawk, your father would’ve wanted it this way,” Bohr said gently. “He never specified not to take us there, did he?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it then. We can still be there before the others,” Bohr said.

  “Others?” Hawk asked innocently for the benefit of the cops.

  “There’s a helicopter on its way from Sudbury. They should be here any minute,” Bohr said. “They’ll find it with or without us if they have to. Let’s get there first, Hawk.”

  “All right. I’ll take you. Let me change clothes.”

  Hawk walked down the hall. His mind was racing. How would he be able to give these cops the slip? What about David? He was here to help, but right now he was no real help at all. As he entered his bedroom a hand grabbed him from behind. The other hand covered his mouth. Hawk jerked and kicked out.

  “Stop it, Hawk. It’s me. Quiet!”

  “Joe?”

  Joe grinned and put a finger to his lips. He pointed to the open window.

  Hawk didn’t wait for an explanation. He flew out the window right after Joe. They raced across the back lawn to the shelter of the abandoned house behind. Hawk kept looking over his shoulder to see if they were being pursued. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone in the kitchen window as he rounded the corner of the neighbor’s house. Hawk disappeared behind the house just steps behind Joe.

  “I saw their car, and then I saw the Vette parked where it shouldn’t be,” Joe said on the run. “I parked the bike over here.”

  “Joe, David Bohr’s here. He’s our friend! You know we can trust him.”

  “Right now it’s only you and me, and from what I’ve heard, we don’t have much time,” Joe said with determination. “Hawk, you’ve got to see what I’ve been able to do. Besides, I’m not giving my ship up. At least not yet.”

  Joe rolled the bike out and Hawk jumped on behind him. “Joe. The chemicals we need. I hid them in the shed beside the Vette. It’s going to be tough to ride and carry the carton at the same time.”

  “We have no choice. We can’t use the Vette on the trail,” Joe yelled over the roar of the engine. “We’ve got to get back to the ship fast and we can only get there by bike. We have to use the chemicals to repair the damage before they can find us.”

  The bike leaped ahead, front wheel high in the air.

  The brothers managed to double back around the subdivision. Joe let the bike idle and coasted quietly to the location of the hidden material. He helped load the fifty-pound carton onto Hawk’s lap.

  It was a delicate balancing act for Hawk, holding onto the cardboard carton and balancing on the back of the bike. The pair drove through the subdivision as fast as Hawk’s discomfort would allow. His knees and thighs dug into the side of the bike until they hurt like mad. It was tough going. The box split open after Joe struck a deep pothole, making it all the harder to hold.

  No one followed them. There was an old hiking path at the end of a block of homes. This path led to the hill above the crash site. It was identifiable by two dark-brown painted posts on either side of the path. There was a faded yellow inscription carved into a sign. It read: THE CANTERBURY TRAIL. The first part of the word was more faded and, at first glance, it looked like BURY TRAIL.

  The motorbike passed easily between the two posts, and they followed the mossy trail toward the woods. Hawk again found it difficult holding onto the carton as the motorbike snaked precariously down the steep slope of the hill. They had to stop twice after the box dumped its contents. Finally they made it to the bottom. Hawk slid off the rear of the bike, clutching the box.

  “Come on, Hawk,” Joe said, slipping through the door of the ship.

  Hawk struggled through the narrow opening. He was walking as if he had been riding a horse. He was amazed at how much knowledge his brother had gleaned from his time on board and, presumably, in the Learning Stall. He observed that Joe’s outward physical appearance seemed to correspond to a newfound inner maturity. His boyish physique seemed to have bulked or toned somehow into a man’s more solid body. His jaw seemed more set. Those large penetrating eyes that he had in common with Hawk were even more unnerving. Their brown-black color seemed to overpower the whites of his eyes. A pointed stare from Joe could stop an attacking tiger in mid-launch, or so it would seem.

  Hawk handed Joe his precious cargo of chemicals. Over the next two hours, Joe managed to replenish and repair the electrochemical devices throughout the craft.

  As they worked, Hawk dropped the bombshell about his meeting with their father. Unlike Hawk, Joe didn’t seem at all perturbed about why his father had reappeared after a four-year absence. Both of them, though, questioned his role and link to the spacecraft. In the middle of all this strange activity, it was hard to know what to believe. Had their father really meant it when he told Hawk he was coming back to be with them?

  Joe strode confidently up and down passageways as if he captained his very own ship. He pulled out vein-like liquid circuits. He replaced complex bio-grids. His focus was complete. The time passed quickly. When they were finished, Joe asked Hawk to follow him to the control room.

  “Watch the
screen, Hawk.”

  Hawk watched as the ship’s huge main monitor screen came to life. The image had pure 100 percent definition. Various images and characters spun and scrolled as the craft evaluated its own health. The evaluation was completed in three seconds flat. The damage report indicated that one more material was needed to return the ship to normal.

  “Look, there on the chart,” Joe said, as he checked the screen. “We’re missing one of the ingredients.”

  Hawk handed Joe the blue card. Joe compared the list on the card to the screen.

  “Here it is. We’ve missed one of the chemicals.”

  “That’s not possible,” Hawk moaned. “I got all the chemicals. I must have dropped a bottle along the way. I’ll go back and retrace our steps. It can’t be far. I’ll bet it was when we were coming down the hill.”

  “You’re probably right. I’ll go with you.” Joe turned his back to the screen and began walking toward the door. He raised his hand and made a fist. The screen went blank and was a plain wall again. Joe gently touched the wall ahead and a door winked open, so fast you would swear it was open all along.

  Just like that, the boys were back outside again. As they walked back up the hill, they chatted. Hawk continued to fill Joe in on some of the interesting details of his trip to Sudbury, Yuichi, and more of his conversation with their father. The bars and the girls he saw in Sudbury.

  They had never heard the chopper land, because it did so while Joe was performing the maintenance on the craft. Nor would it have been visible from their vantage point. They were engrossed in conversation and didn’t hear the trained agents coming up on them until it was too late.

  CHAPTER11

  The brothers looked to their left and faced the two men coming toward them. Their instinct was to flee, but each held the other in check with a hand gesture.

  “Good God Almighty,” one of the agents said. “Major, will you look at that.” He was gazing past the brothers, down at the silver craft lodged awkwardly half in and half out of a huge crater, its majestic wing tipped precariously downward. Everyone in the group turned and stared. It was impossible not to. The sight was magnificent. Dug into the hillside, the glistening silver wing looked like a silver plate thrown into the dirt by an angry child.