Judgment Day (22 page)

CHAPTER 41 REPORTER

The greatest achievement of the space age was the successful delivery and return of a man to the moon. The next challenge is to deliver a person to the moon and leave them there.

—
ALTERNATE PATHWAYS TO SPACE
, EDWARD NORTON

D
eep in the belly of the
God's Love
, Wyatt Powder's face filled the overhead monitor, the network anchor droning on about the Fellowship's re-creation of
Apollo IV s
1969 mission to the moon. Roland Symes frowned, pained by Powder's odd prose. Roland knew the copywriters who wrote Powder's scripts and the limitations Powder put on them. Powder disliked words with "ess" sounds, since he had lisped when he was a kid. So when it came time to explain why "escape velocity" was not an issue for Fellowship ships, the writers had used "breaking the bond of gravity" instead, and in place of "silent blackness" to describe space, Powder insisted on rewriting it to "quiet void." Roland imagined Powder hoping the Fellowship's re-creation of the
Apollo 11
mission would fail so that he wouldn't have to call it a "success."

Roland's report was due soon and Roland switched his monitor to mission control. Sandy Wallace's pixielike face appeared.

"How long until my segment?" Roland asked.

"Five minutes twenty seconds until commercial," Sandy said. "Wyatt will give you a fifteen-second lead-in after the break."

"Thanks," Roland said. "Switch me to the network so I can talk to Cindi."

The picture dissolved into snow and then Cindi was on the screen. Roland positioned himself in front of the camera mounted above the monitor so that Cindi would get a clear image.

"Wyatt has eaten into your time," Cindi said bluntly. "You have to cut your piece by a minute ten."

"What?" Roland exclaimed. "It took me three days to get it just right."

"Cut some of your ruminations on being part of the post-moon-landing generation," Cindi suggested. "It's not that interesting."

"Why didn't you tell me that last night?"

"I knew Wyatt would use some of your time and this way you didn't waste time last night rewriting it."

Cindi finished with a smile.

"I'm not experienced at on-camera work," Roland admitted. "Maybe Wyatt could rewrite his script in five minutes and still be smooth, but I write for a paper."

"We don't let Wyatt write his own scripts," Cindi said, showing no sympathy.

Roland rarely appeared on television, so it was a surprise when the Fellowship picked him to be the media representative to accompany them to the moon. The only rationale the Fellowship gave was that he had been at the original launching of the
Rising Savior
. When Roland was picked the network threatened to pull out of the deal unless one of their own reporters was on board, settling on Roland only after the Fellowship offered an extension on the price guarantees for orbital transponder services. Roland's boss at the
San Francisco Journal had
his own theory about why Roland was selected. "You're the token black man," Goldwyn grumbled, jabbing the air with his cigar.

Christy Maitland came through the hatch, having finished with her on-camera interview. Her inclusion in the moon crew wasn't as surprising, since her relationship with Mark Shepherd was well known, at least the tabloid version of it.

"How did your interview go?" Roland asked.

"The usual. He misunderstood thirty percent of what I said and wasn't really listening to the rest."

Christy leaned in front of the camera to say hello to Cindi.

"Good job, Christy," Cindi said. "You made Wyatt look good."

"Not an easy task," Roland whispered. Then to Cindi, Roland said,

"You really didn't like that section on being a post-moon-landing baby?"

"Cut it," she said flatly. "How are you two doing with the Stepford bunch?"

Roland waited for Christy's response.

"They're nice people," she said, then looked at Roland.

"Too nice," he said. "It's like living with Ozzie and Harriet."

"No one can be too nice," Christy said.

"Yes they can," Roland argued. "It's called overcompensation. They're hiding something and I don't mean their technology."

"Then what?" Christy asked.

"I don't know yet, but something is up."

"Accept them for what they are, Roland," Christy said. "A sincere group of people trying to live by their beliefs as best they can."

"Perhaps," he conceded, "but they've already kept many secrets—their antigravity technology, the fact there were more ships like the
Rising Savior
, the New Hope, the
God's Love
. They're a very secretive group."

"Name a high-tech company that tells their competition about its products before they are ready for the market?" Christy countered.

"You're on in thirty seconds," Cindi said over the speaker.

"Great," Roland grumbled. "Christy's put me in the right mood for this."

Christy laughed, then kissed him on the cheek.

"Maybe that will help," she said.

Roland looked up at Cindi's scowling face.

"No, that didn't help at all."

CHAPTER 42 JOSH

In working with Victorian women in therapy, Sigmund Freud found that many reported childhood sexual memories. Freud interpreted these as sexual fantasies. Rather than fantasies, what these women recalled was sexual abuse at the hands of their fathers and brothers.

—
HIDDEN TERRORS'. WOMEN IN THERAPY
, ROSA QUIGLY

D
aniel sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV. It was the best high-definition television made, Josh had told him. Like the bike and toys Josh bought him, everything was the best. Daniel found it easy to like nice things. At home he only got new toys on his birthday or Christmas. When Josh bought him a new bike he didn't ride it for three days, but it was shiny and new and at last he let Josh teach him to ride. Josh spent a whole day running up and down the street with him, making sure he didn't fall. By the end of the day Daniel could ride all by himself and was so proud he wanted to show his parents, but Josh told him he couldn't. He cried that night.

The first night at Josh's house Daniel had cried in bed. Josh heard his sobs and sat with him, slipping his arm around Daniel's waist. Daniel pushed the arm away, putting his fingers in his mouth and sucking. Daniel wouldn't talk to Josh, but Josh stayed with him until he stopped crying. Finally, taking his fingers from his mouth, Daniel told Josh how much he missed his family and friends. After that, Daniel felt better and he let Josh hold him close. Then Daniel told Josh about the mean kids at the Children's Center. Josh sat beside him patiently, asking questions. When Daniel had it all out, Josh asked him to tell it all again. Daniel felt better after the second telling and had to choke back tears only when he talked about Faith being teased. Josh said he understood that kids could be mean and told him that kids used to pick on him because he was different. It made Daniel feel better, although he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to beat up someone as nice as Josh.

Josh sat with him every night after that, reading him stories, talking to him, listening to him. They were good friends now and Daniel didn't mind staying with Josh. He didn't think about home as much anymore.

When his sixth birthday came Josh bought him a video game player with six games. Daniel had always wanted one but his parents wouldn't buy one. They were too expensive, his parents said, but Daniel knew they thought that playing video games was bad for him. When he told Josh that, Josh laughed and said, "Make believe isn't bad for children. Using your imagination is what children do best. Just try the games, if you don't like them you don't have to play them."

Daniel did try the games. Some of them were scary, but he quickly got used to them, even the karate game that splattered blood across the screen as the hero fought demons and monsters. Soon it was his favorite game.

When Daniel first came to live with Josh he had prayed before eating, just like he did at home. Each night Josh had waited patiently while Daniel prayed, but he never closed his own eyes. One night, Daniel asked Josh why he didn't pray and Josh said, "Because praying never made any difference. Look at it this way, Daniel, your parents prayed all the time and still you were mistreated and taken away, and now your whole family is unhappy. I don't pray and you came to live with me because here you will be safe."

Daniel didn't like hearing that, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why the person who didn't pray had good things happen to him but bad things happened to his parents and him and they did pray.

One night Daniel got the courage to skip praying before he went to bed. He was fearful all the next day but nothing bad happened. He then tried not praying for two days and he found that those days were just like the days when he did pray. Then he went a week without praying. He got the bike that week. Shortly after that he stopped praying before meals too. Now he reached for the food as soon as he sat down at the table just like Josh and he didn't miss praying at all.

Watching the television tonight and seeing Shelly on TV made him sad at first because it reminded him of home. Josh offered to turn it off, but he said no. He also recognized Micah but he didn't know the others who were on the trip to the moon. His parents weren't on the show, although he knew they helped build the spaceships. They gave most of their money to the Fellowship, then told him they couldn't afford to buy him things. He felt a little angry when he thought about that.

Josh put a big bowl of popcorn in front of him and patted him on the shoulder.

"If you want to turn the channel, go ahead," Josh said.

Daniel nodded, grabbing a handful of popcorn. Josh sat on the couch with his own bowl. The popcorn was air-popped and lightly salted. Daniel liked lots of butter on his popcorn—that was the way his dad made it—but Josh said the butter wasn't good for him. He understood that Josh only wanted what was best for him and learned to like it the way he cooked it.

Daniel dug out a big handful of popcorn and stuffed it in his mouth, kernels falling into his lap. He chewed noisily, drowning out the sound of the announcer. Shelly's face appeared on the screen again but now he found he wasn't really homesick at all. He liked his new bike, video games, and nice clothes. He didn't have to sleep in a big room with mean kids—he had a room all by himself. Josh's rules weren't as strict as his parents' rules and he didn't have to get up Sunday mornings for church. Instead, he watched cartoons until Josh got up and then they would meet Josh's friends at a restaurant for breakfast. He still missed Faith and his parents some, but day by day, he missed them less and less.

CHAPTER 43 FRY

People who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction.

— TIMOTHY 6:9

F
ry showed up at Crow's office unannounced, inviting himself in to watch the second night of the televised trip to the moon. Fry wore a blue sports coat with tan slacks, his shirt open at the collar. There was the usual bulge in his coat where his pistol was holstered. Fry's large frame easily filled one of Crow's oversized chairs; he crossed his legs.

Angered by the man's audacity, Crow suppressed his rage. Rachel greeted Fry warmly, hugging him. Crow approved of Rachel's handling of Fry. If Fry could be seduced, so much the better for Crow's purposes. Crow smiled at Rachel, who brought Fry a whiskey, then squeezed into the chair with him.

Tonight's broadcast focused on the crew of the
God's Love
, comparing the experience of those who had traveled to the moon on the Apollo missions with those of the Fellowship. The night's "space spectacular" would be the launching of a satellite that would relay signals from the surface of the moon.

The key difference between the Apollo and Fellowship missions to the moon was artificial gravity, which made life in space Earth-like. There was no need to eat from a tube, and space sickness was limited to periods where it was necessary to turn off the gravity field. Still, a manned ship hadn't traveled out of Earth's orbit since the last Apollo mission and the sense of adventure remained.

Intercutting interviews with Apollo astronauts and the Fellowship, the network tried to create drama and a sense of history in the making, but all Crow felt was irritation. Despite his efforts, Breitling and Shepherd continued down whatever path they were leading their sheep. His Master had told him to "prepare the way," and he had interpreted that as stopping the Fellowship. But if that was his task, he was failing. Fry chuckled at a whispered comment from Rachel, irritating Crow.

"Couldn't you stop the network from buying this?" Crow demanded.

Drink in his hand, Fry waved it at the screen, sloshing it over the side, onto his sports coat and slacks. Fry's face was red from a combination of liquor and Rachel's attention and it made the scar on his right cheek stand out like a streak of lightning against a night sky.

"We've got people inside the network but not high enough up to control programming. The best we could do was make sure the script had some of the right spin. Newspeople are hard to control; they have their own agendas. Still, we managed to use their dislike of religious people."

Fry drained his glass, then looked at Rachel.

"Honey, would you mind?" Fry said.

Rachel smiled sweetly, refilling his glass, then putting the bottle on the coffee table in front of Fry. She settled next to him again, slipping an arm around Fry's shoulders, pressing against him. Fry responded with a sigh, then winked at Crow.

"It's easier to manipulate the press than to silence them, especially when it comes to Christian cults," Fry continued. "The press pretty much prints whatever we feed them. We've never had as much luck with other religions. The FBI tried to use the press to break up a Muslim sect in New York a few years ago, but they wouldn't take the bait. We had an informant that was telling us this sect was plotting a high-profile kidnapping. We kept feeding rumors to the press through the FBI, but not a single newspaper or television station carried our allegations.

"Not only wouldn't they run the story we fed them, they only made halfhearted attempts to investigate. The only story run about Muslims in New York that month was about a free food program another sect started. The FBI finally gave up and sure enough the sect snatched a federal judge."

"Didn't that judge die in the police raid?" Rachel asked.

"Shot in the back of the head," Fry said, illustrating with a slap to the back of his own head. "Killing that judge guaranteed two of the Muslims a death sentence and the rest are doing twenty to life."

"The Muslims claimed the police shot the judge," Rachel said.

"They couldn't match the slug to any of the Muslim guns or to the police weapons," Fry said, smiling. "They never will either."

"Why is that?" Rachel asked.

Fry opened his sports coat and pointed at the gun in his holster. Then he laughed uproariously. Rachel giggled, then refilled his glass.

Crow knew Fry wouldn't be stupid enough to be carrying a weapon used to kill a federal judge, but understood the judge was murdered to make a better case against the Muslims.

"The revenue from this telecast is significant," Crow said. "The Fellowship will use it to expand their space station."

"We don't think so," Fry said. "We don't think they are building more modules for the space station. There's a change in what they're buying. Wherever the network money is going, it isn't going into the space station."

Rachel was leaning against Fry now, head on his shoulder, hand rubbing his chest. Either the liquor or Rachel's attentions had loosened Fry's tongue.

"More ships then?" Crow suggested.

"Maybe. Judging by the type and qtiantity of equipment they are buying it would be a very large ship."

Crow was intrigued and frustrated. The molestation charges had been Crow's best effort yet and it hadn't stopped them.

"What kind of equipment are they buying?" Crow asked.

"Some of it is the usual stuff—environmental systems, air-handling equipment, CO2 scrubbers, water recycling and reclamation systems—it's the kind of equipment they purchased for their ships and space station. None of it is classified technology. It's basically the same equipment used in submarines. They've also bought the usual electronic components, including CPUs. They assemble their own computers and run their own software."

"It sounds like they're building components for another station, to me," Crow said.

Fry shook his head.

"When they built the New Hope they sent the components up to orbit as soon as they were finished. They have enough materials for a station half the size of the New Hope and yet nothing has been launched. There are other differences too. The proportions of their purchases are all wrong. The Fellowship is buying more exotic materials, a lot of titanium and tungsten and more platinum than ever before."

Fry sipped his drink now, apparently aware he was drunk.

"They're buying internationally too, which is new for them," Fry continued. "Sweden is supplying them with industrial lasers and Germany with electric furnaces. They've got an industrial plant somewhere but we can't find it. Parts and materials are shipped either to Mexico or California but those flying balls haul materials all over the planet. They're impossible to track."

Crow realized the Fellowship's space technology was about to take another leap forward and he was powerless to stop it—at least, not without Fry's help.

"How is the project going?" Crow asked.

"No real progress," Fry said. "That Thorpe is a workaholic. He won't leave the lab. He rarely sleeps. His hatred of Breitling keeps him going."

"Have you opened the drive on the sphere you recovered?"

"No," Fry said. "We're not going to open the drive unless we have to."

"Look at the TV screen," Crow said. "Don't you think it's time?"

Fry's thin lips tightened and the yellow flecks in his eyes seemed to glow. He and Crow had disagreed before over how best to proceed with discovering the Fellowship's technological secret.

"I'll decide when it's time," Fry said.

"My money is funding this project," Crow countered. "If I don't see some progress that funding might dry up."

Now Fry leaned forward, staring hard at Crow and speaking in a low gravelly voice.

"You're in this, Crow, and you'll stay in it to the end."

Crow's hatred of Fry was intense but he still needed the man's resources.

"What does Thorpe think? Does he want to leave the drive sealed?"

"Thorpe agrees that opening the drive should be a last resort," Fry said.

Crow knew Fry was lying. Thorpe would do what Fry told him to do.

"Thorpe is reconstructing their control systems. He says he's getting clues to how to control the sphere."

"We need to know how it works," Crow argued.

"One step at a time."

Crow was frustrated, but he let it drop. He felt a sense of urgency that Fry did not share. Crow fumed through the rest of the show. When the broadcast ended, Rachel walked Fry out to his car, giggling at his every remark. A half hour later she came back, getting a mirror from her purse, then fixing her makeup.

"He'll kill us when he thinks we're no more use to him," she said.

"I know," Crow said. "The trick is to know when to kill him first."