Judgment Day (23 page)

CHAPTER 44 DEPLOYMENT

Reaching the Moon by three-man vessels in one long bound from Earth is like casting a thin thread across space. The main effort, in the coming decades, will be to strengthen this thread; to make it a cord, a cable, and finally a broad highway.

—
THE BEGINNING AND THE END
, ISAAC ASIMOV

T
he network will be ready for you in three minutes, Shelly," Sandy said.

"We're ready here."

Shelly switched the monitor to the cargo bay. Paul Swenson could be seen hand-cranking the inner cargo door. Paul was barrel-chested, blond, and blue-eyed, but not a big man, only five feet five. Gravity meant nothing to him and up and down were interchangeable as far as his inner ear was concerned.

"What's wrong with the hatch, Paul?" Shelly asked. "Isn't the electric motor working?"

"It is, but I don't trust it."

Paul was another of Ira's favorites. He finished cranking the inner door closed, which was a second door set inside the outer door. The indicator turned green but Paul twisted the handle and double-checked the locking mechanism anyway.

"Now I know it's sealed," Paul said.

"The networks will be watching in about two minutes," Shelly said.

"Right. So no more scratching where it really itches," Paul said.

"Is Glen there?" Shelly asked.

Glen came into view, waving at the camera. Glen Swan was the size of a jockey and flew with the same light touch. Small-boned and fragile-looking, he was actually wiry and rugged. Glen was vain and worked to keep his black hair neatly in place and his clothes neatly pressed. Amiable and easygoing, he and Paul were good friends.

"Glen, the network wants to make it look like I'm releasing the satellite, but I'll leave control with you," Shelly said. "They can't get you on camera but they can me."

Glen looked disappointed, then smiled. "This was my big break," he said.

"He's wearing his designer coveralls," Paul added.

"Just get the satellite out safely," Shelly said. "Ira will be watching."

Paul and Glen mimicked fear, their eyes wide, their mouths open.

Shelly switched back to Sandy's channel to find Wyatt Powder sharing his wisdom.

"Intellectual pabulum," Micah said.

"On your best behavior, Micah," Shelly ordered. "We go live any second now."

Then Sandy came on-line.

"You're on in five, four, three . . . " Sandy said, her voice trailing off.

Shelly waited two more seconds, then began acting for the home audience.

"Paul, Glenn, prepare to release the satellite," Shelly said. "Gus, bring the gravity down to zero."

"Gravity to zero," Gus said.

"Bob, begin depressurizing the airlock."

"Activating pumps now," he said.

The commands and responses were crisp and professional, not like normal interaction.

Shelly's stomach fluttered as the gravity waned, and she worried she might throw up on international TV. Pretending to push buttons, she watched herself on TV repressing a smile, feeling stupid. Then Micah leaned over and flipped two of the toggles that controlled the external landing lights, appearing briefly on camera. A minute later he repeated the performance, getting himself on camera again. Then the view switched to an external shot showing nothing but stars. Then Wyatt Powder's voice explained that the satellite would appear shortly from the rear of the craft.

Shelly took the opportunity to slug Micah on the arm.

"Ow!" Micah complained.

"What were you doing flipping the lights on and off?"

"I noticed you forgot to play with those switches. Besides, you were hogging the camera!"

Now he was smiling broadly and rubbing his arm. She was laughing at him when her face appeared on the monitor again. Sobering quickly, she reached over and flipped the same toggles Micah had, stifling a giggle and trying not to look at Micah.

"Gravity is zero," Gus said.

"Pressure is zero PSI," Bob said.

"Opening exterior doors," Shelly said, then switched the monitor from Sandy to Glen, who nodded and then checked his indicator panel before operating the exterior doors. The monitor switched to inside the airlock and a shot of the satellite with the doors opening behind it. Shelly took the opportunity to push a lock of hair back that had floated in front of her face.

"You want to powder your nose too?" Micah asked.

Shelly punched his arm, aiming for the spot she hit before. He yelped.

When the door was fully open she said, "Cargo doors are open and secure," then she waited for Glen to give her a thumbs-up sign. Then, after Glen engaged the winch, Shelly said, "Begin release sequence."

The satellite moved gently toward the field of stars. Wyatt Powder's voice cut in, trying to make the moment more dramatic.

"The satellite they are launching now will serve as a communications relay between the space station and the ship as it attempts a lunar landing." Wyatt's face appeared in a box in the corner, obscuring part of the satellite. "It will take up its lonely vigil, and remain here, delicately balanced between the gravity of the moon and the gravity of Earth forever."

When the satellite had reached the edge of the cargo door, Shelly waited for Glen to start the process and then said, "Extend the cargo arm."

The satellite was pushed outward with an arm clamped to the bottom of the satellite. Now the people on Earth saw an exterior shot and the satellite could be seen behind the tail of the ship. When the satellite was fully extended only the top portion could be seen peeking above the ship.

"Release the satellite," Shelly said needlessly. "Retract the cargo arm."

The boom came away from the satellite, leaving it floating motionless in space. Wyatt began talking again, so Shelly turned to Micah.

"Move us away from the satellite so they can get a full shot of it."

The ship moved with a slight jerk, the full satellite coming into view. There were dish antennae built into both ends of the turnip-shaped satellite. It was ungainly, dark, and ugly, surely not what the audience on Earth had expected. Then Shelly spoke to Paul.

"Are you ready, Paul?"

"Just give the word."

Then for the audience at home she said, "Power up the satellite."

Lights appeared on the satellite, illuminating the dish antennae and every seam and joint. The bulbous shape glowed in the inky blackness like the star on a Christmas tree. The ugly shape was replaced by the glowing splendor.

The lights were for show, built in at the last minute at the request and expense of the network. They had no functional purpose but there was no denying the aesthetic power.

"Paul, what about the satellite's systems?"

"Everything looks good. Let me try an orientation maneuver."

Shelly watched the monitor as the antennae on both ends extended slightly, then changed angles. Then the satellite tilted and rotated 360 degrees. When the satellite ceased rotating Paul announced he was satisfied. Then Shelly switched her monitor to Sandy, who was standing by on New Hope station.

"Sandy, the satellite is in position and responding to our commands,"

Shelly said. "We are releasing control to you."

"Roger that,
God's Love"
Sandy replied.

Micah nudged her arm and whispered, "Roger? Sandy actually said 'Roger.' She's really getting into this."

Shelly smiled. They were all acting a bit, trying to sound like astronauts, although on normal flights they used very little technical jargon. The antennae on the satellite retracted and then extended again, and then the satellite rotated, all under Earth control. A few minutes after the test Sandy radioed they had full control on New Hope station. Before Shelly could answer, Micah said, "We roger that, New Hope control. Everything is five by five here, we are resuming ETM trajectory after PIB."

Sandy acknowledged Micah's transmission, and Shelly checked to see that the network had Wyatt Powder narrating while they kept the external cameras on the shrinking dot that was the satellite. Then she turned to Micah.

"What is ETM?" Shelly asked.

"Earth to moon," Micah said.

"And PIB?"

"Pee in Bag. Now if you'll turn your head I'll execute it."

Shelly turned her head, giggling through the entire PIB.

CHAPTER 45 HEARING

There is no such thing as justice—in or out of court.

—CLARENCE DARROW

S
tephen stood when the guard brought Mark into the courtroom, directing him to a chair next to Floyd. Floyd greeted him warmly, and they shook hands and hugged. Floyd had been free pending this hearing, while Mark had spent the time in jail or in a hospital. The charges against them both amounted to child molesting, but Mark was considered the greater risk since he was the leader of the Fellowship.

Evelyn was there, seated behind Floyd along with two other women from the Fellowship. She reached out to Mark but the guard held Mark back. Instead, Evelyn said, "God bless you," then sat back with the other women from the Fellowship.

The courtroom was packed with reporters and the hearing would be broadcast. A Court TV camera was mounted high on one wall. The camera followed Mark's every move. Mark knew that somewhere there were reporters doing play-by-play descriptions of the courtroom activities—describing his clothes, his greeting of Floyd and Evelyn, and reading his facial expression. If he showed emotion he would be described as depressed or frightened. If he showed no emotion they would describe him as callous or cold. Every hand motion, scratch, leg crossing, or change in position would be interpreted by legions of experts who specialized in nonverbal communication. Stephen had even warned him to cover his mouth when whispering because lip readers were employed by the media.

This wasn't the trial, only a hearing to determine whether there was enough evidence to take the case to trial. Floyd and Mark were the central targets of the prosecution, which continued to hold out plea-bargain deals to the other members of the Fellowship if they would testify against their leaders—none had opted for the deal. The only witnesses to be heard today would be Floyd's children, Faith and Daniel. If they implicated their father and Mark, they would be held over for trial. Floyd was confident his children would vindicate him. Mark wasn't.

Stephen had been morose since seeing the transcripts of the children's claims. His requests for his own experts to interview the children had all been denied, since the prosecution had argued that introducing new therapists would destroy the trust relationship they had formed with Rosa Quigly. "In the children's best interest" had been the phrase the judge used when she limited Stephen's access to transcripts of the therapy.

The bailiff called the court to their feet; Judge Lana Tucker-Cannon entered the court. She was fifty, married three times—the hyphen coming from her most recent marriage—and childless. Her hair was pulled back in a gray bun, and her lips were thin and tight, giving her a stern demeanor. Stephen had warned Mark she was not to be trifled with.

Judge Tucker-Cannon rapped a gavel and everyone sat. Then she talked with her bailiff, and the case was called. With the formalities over she turned to the assistant district attorney who would make the state's case. Walter Hanson was a thirty-five-year-old African-American on the fast track to higher office. The case had been his for the asking and his plan was to see justice done and his career advanced at the same time. Before be could begin, Stephen stood asking for recognition. Judge Tucker-Cannon's forehead creased, her eyebrows almost touching.

"What is it, Mr. O'Malley?"

"I would like to ask for a continuance. We have not had access to the recordings of the children's therapy so I could not properly prepare."

"Did the state provide you with transcripts per my order?"

"Yes, Your Honor, but—"

"We've been through this, Mr. O'Malley. Therapy is a confidential process, and your possession of the transcripts is as intrusive as I'm going to let you be unless this goes to trial."

"If the therapeutic relationship has been abused, then the charges should be dropped," Stephen argued.

"The accusations about your clients preceded the therapy."

"But, Your Honor, the reputations of these men will be irreparably harmed if the state is allowed to pursue charges that have no foundation."

"This is a preliminary hearing, Mr. O'Malley, and my primary concern is for the children. Now sit down!"

Mark feared Stephen had pushed the judge too far.

Hanson continued.

"Your Honor, the state is prepared to present a limited case in order to spare the children the trauma of facing the men who molested them."

"Objection, Your Honor," Stephen said. "No evidence has been introduced to show the children were molested by my clients or anyone else."

"Alleged molestation," Hanson corrected, then continued. "We would like to call only two witnesses to the stand: Daniel and Faith Remple."

Mark looked at Floyd who smiled confidently. Then Floyd turned and smiled at Evelyn whose head was bowed in prayer.

The assistant district attorney asked for Faith to be brought in and Stephen immediately objected.

"Your Honor, the child has already been traumatized by the forced separation from her parents. Being interrogated in front of a hundred witnesses, not to mention a vast television audience, will exacerbate the trauma. We respectfully request that the courtroom be cleared and the camera turned off."

"I have no objection," Hanson said.

"Well I do," Judge Tucker-Cannon said.

Assistant District Attorney Walter Hanson was as surprised as Stephen. It was common to protect children from unnecessary public exposure, especially in cases like this.

"Mr. Hanson has made it clear that these allegations may be just the tip of a very big iceberg. If these children have the courage to testify, it may empower other children to come forward."

Now Walter Hanson spoke.

"Your Honor, the state recognizes the legitimate concerns of the defense for the welfare of the children and concurs with his request to have the courtroom cleared and the camera turned off."

"No, Mr. Hanson," the judge came back sharply. "However, I will compromise. The courtroom will be cleared but the camera will remain on, operated by remote. The children's faces will not be shown."

"Objection, Your Honor," Stephen said.

"Overruled. Bailiff, clear the court."

"I request that the children's mother, Evelyn Remple, be allowed to remain," Stephen said.

"Request denied, Mr. O'Malley. She is excluded since she may have played a role in the alleged abuse."

Evelyn sobbed noisily as Floyd screamed denials, defending his wife.

"Control your client, Counselor, or I will have him bound and gagged!"

Floyd slapped Stephen's hand from his shoulder.

"She can't say things like that," Floyd shouted. "It's slander."

The camera was focused on Floyd now, taking in his tantrum and broadcasting it to the world. Mark sagged in his chair fully understanding the extent of the worldly forces arrayed against them.

Stephen got Floyd back into his chair and the court was cleared. Only the camera remained, its tiny red eye watching every move.

Hanson asked for Faith to be brought in, the bailiff leaving by a side door to fetch her. Floyd watched the door intensely, waiting for the first glimpse of his daughter in three months. The door opened and Faith was there, holding the hand of Rosa Quigly. Faith was wearing a pink ruffled dress with white tights and white patent leather shoes—all new. A matching pink bow was in her tightly curled hair. Floyd started to rise but Stephen forced him down. Faith started toward her daddy, Rosa Quigly holding her back. Then Rosa knelt and whispered to Faith, whose eyes teared.

"Your Honor, Ms. Quigly is coaching the witness," Stephen objected.

The judge looked over and the therapist whispered a final word, then stood, still holding Faith's hand. Mark looked at Hanson, who was watching the scene with interest—even concern.

"Ms. Quigly, show Faith where to sit."

The therapist led Faith to the witness stand, then stood next to her. Judge Tucker-Cannon leaned over and spoke to Faith.

"Do you know the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie, Faith?"

Faith mumbled, "Yes."

"In court you must always tell the truth. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Will you promise to tell the truth?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Faith."

"That's my daddy," she said, pointing and then waving.

Floyd waved back, a tear running from one eye.

"We know he's your daddy, Faith, but don't be afraid," the judge said.

"Your Honor," Stephen protested.

"What?"

"You suggested she had something to fear from my client."

"I did not. I was only reassuring her. I don't want any further interruptions from you, Mr. O'Malley. You are the one frightening the child."

Hanson watched the exchange from his table, now looking puzzled.

"Is Ms. Quigly going to be allowed to stand by the child during the proceedings?" Stephen asked sharply.

"Sit down, Mr. O'Malley," Judge Tucker-Cannon ordered.

"Will you at least instruct her not to coach the witness?"

"You're one step away from a contempt citation, Mr. O'Malley," Judge Tucker-Cannon said sternly. "Ms. Quigly may remain near the child in order to comfort her." Then turning to Rosa she said, "You may not coach the child."

The judge nodded to Hanson, who began by introducing himself.

"Faith, my name is Walt. I need to ask you some questions. Some of the questions are going to be hard."

"I know."

Stephen scribbled: "HOW WOULD SHE KNOW UNLESS SHE HAS BEEN COACHED?" on a yellow pad and showed it to Mark and Floyd. "Do you know the difference between places where it's okay for people to touch you and places where people shouldn't touch you?"

"Yes."

"Has anyone ever touched your private places?"

Faith looked up at Rosa Quigly who nodded slightly.

"Yes," Faith said.

"Objection, she's coaching the witness," Stephen said, jumping to his feet.

"Quiet, Mr. O'Malley. I won't warn you again. Ms. Quigly, be careful."

"Did your daddy ever touch you in your private places?"

Faith hesitated now, looking up at Rosa, who kept her head still this time. Then Faith looked at her father.

"I want to go home."

"I know you do, Faith, but you have to answer the question," Walter Hanson said. "Did your daddy touch your private places?"

"Yes."

"Faith!" Floyd exclaimed, devastated by the accusation.

"Silence!" the judge said, glaring at Floyd.

Stephen took Floyd's hand, whispering to him, calming him. Faith was crying now, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Faith," Hanson said softly. "Did your daddy ever show you his private places?"

Faith looked at Rosa and then down at the floor and said, "Yes."

"Did he ever make you touch his private parts?"

"Yes."

Each of Faith's answers was softer than the one before.

"Did he ever touch your private parts with his private parts?"

"Yes."

"Permission to approach Faith, Your Honor?" Hanson requested.

The judge nodded and Hanson walked toward Faith carrying two anatomically correct dolls.

"Can you show me how he touched you with his private parts."

Faith took the dolls and with a well-practiced move laid the male doll on top of the female doll.

"Did anyone else here today do this to you, Faith?"

She nodded but did not speak.

"Yes or no, Faith?" Hanson prodded.

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

Faith pointed at Mark.

"Pastor Mark," Faith said softly.

Mark felt as though his heart had stopped. Reading the transcripts could not prepare him for hearing little Faith accuse him of an unspeakable act.

"Thank you, Faith," Walter Hanson said.

Hanson sat down, giving Stephen a chance to question Faith. Before he could, the judge cautioned him.

"Be very careful, Mr. O'Malley."

Stephen smiled at Faith.

"My name is Stephen, Faith."

She nodded, her eyes peeking over the dolls who remained in the obscene position she had placed them in.

"Have you ever played with dolls like this before?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"At Rosa's."

"Did she show you how to put the dolls together like this."

"Yes."

Stephen looked at the judge as if to have the case dismissed. The judge doodled on a pad, ignoring Stephen.

"When your daddy touched your private parts, was it after you went to the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"Was he using toilet paper?"

"Yes."

Again Stephen turned to the judge, who kept her eyes down.

"Faith, you said that you knew the questions would be hard. How did you know that?"

"Rosa told me."

"Did Rosa tell you how to answer the questions?"

"No."

Stephen stared at Faith, thinking. The judge noticed the silence and looked up. A few seconds passed, then Stephen asked, "Faith, did you know I was going to ask if Rosa told you how to answer?"

Now Faith looked up at Rosa who stood stone-faced.

"I don't know," Faith answered evasively.

"Did you play court before you came here today?"

"Yes."

"Where did you play court?"

"At Rosa's."

"Was Walter there when you played court?"

"No, just Rosa and me."

"Thank you, Faith," Stephen said.

Stephen wrote on the yellow pad and showed it to Mark and Floyd. "SHE'S BEEN REHEARSED AND THE JUDGE IS GOING TO LET THEM GET AWAY WITH IT!!!"

"I have another question, Your Honor," Hanson said.

"Faith, did your daddy or Pastor Mark ever touch your private places when they didn't have toilet paper?"

"Yes."

The judge thanked Faith then, and she hopped out of the chair expectantly, looking at her father. When Rosa took her hand to lead her away she said, "Am I going home now?" The therapist bent to her ear and whispered. Faith's face fell then and she let herself be pulled out of the courtroom, looking over her shoulder at her daddy the whole way. When the door closed behind her another tear ran from Floyd's eye.