Part 4B: Thursday

Chapter 78: Tiffany

Ship's log, Acting Capitan Tiffany French. 8:40am, October 28th 2006

I had put the Major and his Marines in the various chairs.

They were demonstrating curiosity levels usually reserved for small children.

So I told them they could be as curious as they liked but not to touch anything.

So they sat and watched like tourists at a planetarium.

Suddenly one of the Marines pointed to the holographic display. "Is that a carrier?"

"Joe, put the thing that Marine is pointing at on the main screen."

"Done."

We watched the carrier's aircraft recovery and launch operations. It looked exactly like some of the scenes from JAG.

"Joe, go to Yellow Alert. Activate primary and secondary shield generators. Raise primary shields and put them to maximum. Engage the targeting computer." "Done."

Distance and mass numbers started running down the side of the screen. Targeting points showed up on the screen. A holographic system gave a three dimensional image of the entire area.

One of the Marines leaned towards another. "My god! I wish our unit had this during the last war games. We'd have been able to react to things before they even happened."

Meanwhile I was looking thoughtfully at the aircraft carrier. "Isn't Jacob's mother stationed aboard a carrier?"

"Yes, she is. Her call sign is Rolling Stone."

"Would you like to visit, bring her up on to date on what has been going on?"

"I think not. They are not expecting me. They are most certainly not expecting the Flying Dutchman."

Nobody ever expects the Flying Dutchman I thought.

"Doesn't matter," a Marine told us. "It looks like the carrier has noticed us."

"Best to play it safe." I said. "Joe. Raise secondary shields. Arm main weapons."

"Done. Incoming call."

"Visual or audio?"

"Visual."

"I didn't know they were that advanced. Put it onscreen."

"Done."

A middle aged man appeared on the screen. He had that stern look the military spends years shaping on their commander's faces. "This is Rear Admiral Brent of the United States carrier group Independence. Identify yourself and your intentions. Or be destroyed."

I sighed. "Now I know why Jacob is so hesitant to hand his technology over. A little trigger happy, aren't you? I am Tiffany French, acting Capitan of the Flying Dutchman. Our intention is to return Major Stone from an emergency trip." A marine pointed at images of fighter jets forming in a formation near the Dutchman.

"Really?"

"It's looks like every fighter in the area is going to give us a pass and try to get a good look."

Then lets give them a show. "Joe. Activate exterior lighting."

Brent was staring at the screen. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen, like that matters."

"No teenager should control such a craft. Land it on the carrier deck immediately."

I turned to Major Stone. "Is everybody above the rank of Major going to try to give orders to this thing?"

"Most likely."

Rear Admiral Brent noticed the Major. "Identify yourself."

"Major Stone, United States Marine Corps, on duty with the United Nations peacekeeping force in Palestine."

"Then what in the name of the squid that ate Chicago are you doing on that thing?"

"Sir, I am returning from emergency leave. My son was in the hospital, in a coma and they refused to operate unless one of his parents was present to fill out the forms. The Dutchman came out with a full crew and picked me and my surviving men out of a terrorist assault."

"Well, a Rear Admiral outranks a Major. I'm ordering you to take command of that ship and to land it on my flight deck."

Stone looked apologetically at me as he gestured at his men.

"It's ok." I said. "I know the military mind set."

"Get out of the command chair, please."

He sounded sorry.

That almost made me regret what I was about to do.

But after last night, I really did not care anymore.

I did so.

Major Stone sat in the chair.

"Sir, I'm in command. But I really do not think this is wise."

"Majors are not required to think when an Admiral is around. Now land that thing."

"Yes, Sir."

The Rear Admiral grinned in triumph.

"Can I add something?"

"Now what, kid?"

Kid? Name me three people under his command with anything close to the limited understanding of the Dutchman's tech that I have and I'll eat my bra.

"Joe. Activate all remaining engines."

"Done."

Behind the admiral a voice is heard announcing all readings gone off the scale. Several scanners were heard overloading.

"What do you think you are doing bitch?"

"Carrying out Jacob's standing orders."

"What standing orders?" the Major asks hesitantly.

"Don't worry, we are not going to fire on the Americans."

"Then what is going on?" a Marine asks.

"Joe. Engage the self destruct. 2 minute countdown. Tiffany one nine, nine eight nine, five."

"Red Alert. Self destruct engaged. 120... 119... 118..."

Sirens sounded as the ship's lighting changed to an ethereal red light.

"What did you do?"

"One of Jacob's strongest fears is that the military mindset gets control of this technology. Therefore he has convinced me that self destruction is better than unbalancing the planetary military situation."

"93... 92... 91... 90... 89."

"You bitch!" The Rear Admiral shouted. Then he struggled with his next question. "How bad?"

"Your carrier will be obliterated. Most of the surrounding taskforce will be so heavily damaged that they may be beyond salvage."

"77... 76... 75..."

"You're bluffing. You'll be blown up too."

"Are you trying to point out to a rape victim that life is worth the pain?"

"54... 53..."

The Marines were shocked into silence. Indescribable odds against them in battle they could handle. A suicidally depressed teenager with the self destruct codes to something they hadn't the slightest clues about scared the shit out of them. They were willing to die for their country, but they had to be wondering if this was quite what their drill sergeant warned them about.

"40... 39... 38... 37..."

"Ok, bitch. You win." The Admiral screamed.

"I'd stop calling me a bitch if I were you. Do you renounce all rights to this ship and any right to punish all occupants?"

"Yes! Yes!! Just stop that self destruct."

"20... 19... 18..."

"So noted and recorded." I leaned over the major and hit a quick code into the command chair's keypad. "Self destruct terminated."

I heard several sighs of relief from the marines.

"Anything else?" I asked the question in the tone of somebody who either gave up on life, or somebody secure in the knowledge of untouchable power and bored with it all.

Funny how two such different feelings had the same tone.

Admiral Brent looked like he'd rather order me keelhauled. "No. Just get that thing out of my sight."

"Ok. Joe, disengage tertiary and quaternary shield generators. Also disengage secondary, tertiary and quaternary weapon generators. Stand down from Red Alert. Close the channel."

"Done."

Major Stone rose from the command chair. "It's the wrong carrier anyway."

"Excuse me?"

Now what is he talking about?

"The Independence is the wrong carrier. My wife is aboard the Nimitz."

Oh, that. Funny how thoughts of death drive all other trivia from your mind.

The Flying Dutchman flew on through the sky.

"Joe. Regional map please."

"Done."

I saw that we were approaching Israeli airspace. "Now here's where I expected the trouble to start."

"Why?"

"Remember, on the Dutchman's last visit, we shot down 6 aircraft. I doubt they want to be friendly with us now."

"Good point."

"Joe. Go to Red Alert. Arm secondary weapons generator. Bring up the targeting system, raise maximum shields." "Done."

The Dutchman flew on.

Incoming signal.

"Good grief. Who now, Joe?"

"General Smith."

"Smith... Smith... where have I heard that name before?"

One of the marines spoke up. "General Smith is the Commanding Officer for the United States detachment in Palestine."

"Oh great. Another person in charge. He'll probably want to take command too. Joe, ignore the call."

"Done."

The Major tried to resist a laugh. "No need to worry. Your friend Fred put him in his place. Besides, he was kind enough to authorize my emergency leave."

"Fred put him in his place? Fred must have enjoyed that. Alright. I'll talk to the guy. Joe. Put that signal on speakers."

"Done."

"Attention Flying Dutchman, this is General Smith, United States Marine Corps at the United Nations command post for the West Bank. Come in Acting Commander Fred."

"This is Acting Captain Tiffany French, Flying Dutchman. Fred is in school."

"I see. Are Major Stone and his Marines aboard?" "Yes. They've asked me to return them to the base just north of Jerusalem."

"Could you please fly around Israeli air space?"

"Why?"

"We are trying to keep tensions down."

"From what I was told, Franks fired first."

"Nevertheless, the powers that be want to try to prevent outright war." the General informed me.

"So long as they do not shoot at us, we will not shoot at them."

"I think you have them worried. They are not so willing to fight battles they cannot afford. You proved that despite the fact their military is primarily US technology, there are still things they have to watch out for. We promised to allow them to save face by not giving them reason to be shot down so quickly."

"Maybe then they should stop sponsoring the attacks in Jerusalem that my current events teacher keeps going on about."

"True. But they are fanatics who have claimed the force of God is behind them. The only thing they will answer to is superior force. Smith out."

No sooner is that signal cut than another is received.

I sighed. Now I know why Jacob planned for a communications officer. That way somebody else could take all these calls. Who is it this time?

Joe paused. "It is a female, shouting. Something about your mother."

"On speakers."

"Done."

"Tiffany Mary French, what the hell are you doing? Turn off that stupid..." her mother shouts.

"Joe. Cut volume to half so long as she's shouting like that. Hi mom. Didn't expect you to call so soon."

"You sneak out of the hospital without telling anybody and you think nobody is going to notice?? Do you honestly think I'm that blind?"

My voice tightened. "Yes. After all, you managed to not notice me for over an hour while you and my dad had a shouting match. I could have disappeared in a puff of fire and I doubt either of you would've noticed."

My mother sounded even more shocked and upset then she did a minute ago.

Given how she sounded a minute ago, that was very impressive.

"You cannot be seriously thinking that I was not aware you were there."

"That makes it worse. You heard my plea to stop fighting, at least in front of me and the two of you continued. The two of you were shouting worse then fighting teenagers. I could not sleep, so rather then stay there, I made a run for it."

There was silence on the other end of the communications channel. Then mom spoke somewhat more calmly. "I'm sorry Tiffany. That man just gets on my last nerve. Did you really mean it when you threatened to move to your boyfriend's house?"

"Mother, I don't want to talk about it now, but chances are he will not be my boyfriend for long."

"What??"

"I'm still not sure... but you've told me that love should not have doubts... I'm doubting I can live in the same league as he can. Don't ask my why, yet. Anyway, it was an empty threat to move in to his house."

"I will not deny Jacob Stone is the greatest pain in the ass I have. But before you say anything to him, I suggest you talk to Roberts. I'll drive you back and forth from the hospital."

"No. Not at the hospital. Not as long as that man who calls himself my dad works there."

The disgusted anger in my voice made the marines quake in their chairs.

I think they suddenly realized there was something capable of being more dangerous than the Flying Dutchman.

The wrath of a teenager betrayed by their own parent.

Now mom tried to speak as reasonably as she could. "Don't worry. According to Roberts, she has an office on City Line Ave. We can go there."

I think she realized we had reached a crossroads. Because of the chair I was sitting in and my current views on life, she could take nothing for granted.

I almost thought I detected a plea in her voice. A plea not to give up on everything.

Including some sort of family life with her.

It was the first thing to touch my heart in a good way in thirty hours.

"Ok mother, we can do that. And if it matters, of the two of you, I prefer living with you. I just do not need the fights."

Chapter 79: Corporal Mavis, USMC

Given all that had recently occurred, I thought I'd say something to change the subject. "You know, this craft reminds me of the space shuttle. Lots of controls and a deceptive appearance."

Tiffany told me, "If Jacob is to be believed, this ship is capable of getting into space as well."

I laughed. ""That's impossible."

"Why?" Major Stone asked me.

"It's not built strong enough. It has no rocket engines. I've heard nothing about his training. He's only a teenager you told me. How can a kid not out of high school do something it takes most people years to train for?"

"Well... this thing has no jet engines and we are flying, aren't we?"

"Don't ask me how. I'm not the scientific genius in my family." I told him.

"Tell me," Tiffany asked me, "you seem to know a lot about the space shuttle program, how many voice controlled ships does the program have?"

"None."

Next she waved at the holographic projections around the control room. "Any ships with scanning systems like this?"

"No."

"So why is it so hard to think my son can go into space?" Major Stone asked.

I was saved from replying by the computer speaking.

"Incoming call" Joe says.

Tiffany looked annoyed at being interrupted again. "On speakers. Who is it now??"

"Colonel Maddok, Israeli air command. I thought it was made clear your kind is not wanted here. Go back to your godless land."

"All Franks made clear was that you guys were a bunch of racists who compare anybody who challenges your point of view to the Nazis and their holocaust."

"They are. All who betray the Children of God to their enemies are no better than the Nazis."

"That mistake cost Franks and his flight of jets their lives."

"Mistake?? They died for the Truth. Just because the Truth is insulting, does it mean their deaths were deserved?"

Tiffany pointed out, "Jews were not the only ones who were shoved into the concentration camps. His grandfather was thrown in the camp for being a catholic who sheltered a bunch of gypsies and dissidents."

A shocked gasp escaped Maddok. "It is a shame that the family that did such noble things is now willing to go against God."

"I give up. Reason and logic mean as much to you as they do to a three month old kid. We will stay in airspace granted by the UN, but will return fire if needed."

Chapter 80: Kevin

(approaching noon)

I waited in the courtyard where Fred told me to.

Fred showed up a few minutes later.

"How's the planning for the game coming?"

"The planning for the game is going great." Fred told me. The team might not be around for the game, though."

"Why not?"

"Wait until the meeting."

That's right Fred. Make some mysterious comment and leave me hanging. This had better be good.

All I said back was "Ok."

We went the locker room

The rest of the team was waiting.

I double checked that everybody was here. Then I banged my hand against a locker door a couple times. "All right people, lets get quiet."

Quiet slowly fell over the crowd.

"Thanks you all for showing up. Fred called me this morning, told me he had some news we all had to hear. When I asked him, all he told me is that I had to call this meeting."

"Where are the coaches?" A player asked.

"Fred asked that I not tell the coaches."

"What's going on?" Another player asks.

I indicated for Fred to take over.

"Well, Kevin, I asked you to call this meeting to tell you we are all doomed."

"Nonsense." One player commented.

"No way. Another replied."

Somebody else waited for the talking to die down before saying what everybody had to be thinking. "I thought you guys made peace with Stone."

"You did. We did. But Koke did not. Last night Koke kidnapped and raped Tiffany."

"Did I hear my name?"

We all turned as if choreographed.

It was Koke.

I gasped. "Koke? You have the nerve to come back?"

Koke was standing there like a cat that got the canary sprinkled lightly with catnip, and had a pint of cream to wash it down.

"Yes. I'm back to tell you our problems are all over. Great news!! Jacob Jehosophat Stone is dead. His slutty girlfriend is dead. We run this school again."

We were all silent for a moment.

"Somebody is dead, but they are not." Fred told Koke.

"You lie! Their crash was on the news. I opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate."

Fred was almost speaking like Jacob. "They live. I was there, I helped to save Tiffany, and later fetched Jacob's dad so that a lifesaving operation could take place."

We never heard Fred so calm.

We never saw Koke so upset.

"You traitor! I'm gonna kill you." Koke yelled.

Koke lunged for Fred.

Fred pushed him back and assumed a defensive position. "Not this time. This time we will not go down with you."

I swear the school life around here is making me suicidal.

I stepped in front of Koke. "Sit down. I'm running this meeting."

"I'm the coach." He shouted at that. "No kid is going to make me sit down and shut up! I'm as far above you as you are above those nerds like Stone."

That's when I told him, "That makes you my inferior."

"Your inferior?? Us inferior to a geek like Stone?"

What little self control the coach was practicing evaporated like mist in a desert.

Koke punched my head so hard I swear my brains rattled.

Good thing I never used them anyway.

I resisted the desire to collapse and kicked the coach like a football. Very very hard.

He just grunted in pain.

Oh SHIT.

Koke started using his fists like a pair of overcharged pile drivers.

Three hits later I heard a crack.

Falling to my knees, I nearly passed out as he got a few more punches onto my recently broken arm.

With me on the floor, half a dozen teammates jumped over and around me to dog pile the coach.

Another teammate ran to get ice.

Somebody ran into Koke's office to call the nurse.

"Don't." I called, stopping the would be caller. "Not before this meeting is over. Fred. You are sure that Koke is responsible?"

"Yes. I was there aboard the Dutchman."

"You fucking traitor. If I ever get loose, I'm going to break your head as easily as I broke Kevin's arm." Koke screamed. "You're both expelled from my team."

Now it was my turn to sound like Jacob Jehosophat Stone. "No." I told him as I looked at him with the certainty of choices made. "We are disowning you. You are a mad criminal who will destroy everything. We are not going down with you. Fred, call the police. Tell them you have Koke and get them to pick him up as soon as you can."

Fred quickly did so. Then he turned back to the team. "Jacob's last words before his tragic accident..."

"... tragic accident? Don't you mean divine punishment for challenging his betters?" Koke interrupts.

"No. Somebody shut him up."

I went over to the spot where Koke was pinned down. I transferred the pain from my broken arm and hit head to my temper. Then I took all that anger and used it to power the swing of my uninjured arm. The punch connected perfectly.

Koke dropped like a rock.

"Thanks Kevin. As I was saying, Jacob's last message is that he will not hold the team responsible. None of us expected Koke to be bold enough to show back up as if he did nothing wrong. But he did suggest we get a new coach. I suggest Kevin. He knows all the plays and players. We all respect him."

"Thanks Fred. Besides with this arm broken, I can't play anyway. Now that the team's settled things in house, you can call the nurse. This pain is getting bad."

Chapter 81: Jacob

No perceivable time.

Jacob Stone was lying on the ground.

To any disinterested observers, there was nothing wrong with him that people could see.

The two people watching him from a distance and waiting for him to wake up were anything but disinterested observers.

Darkness.

Wait a moment. My eyes are still closed.

I opened my eyes.

Looking around, I saw nothing I expected to see.

Big surprise. Nothing in my life went as expected, why should death be any different.

Next question. Where in the name of the various hells for stubborn sinners am I?

And who are those voices I'm thinking I'm hearing?

Lying in all this steam was not giving me the answers I sought.

I tried to get up as I usually would. Recent events had driven the memory of my damaged hand out of active memory. As I got up, I pushed hard on what should have been my bad hand.

Then I remembered.

Strange thing that I'm feeling no pain.

Ok. I'm up.

First thing is to walk clear of the steam. I muttered to myself as I did so.

There I made two discoveries.

One was how oddly familiar the landscape was.

The second thing I noticed was that I had no wounds at all.

Some thing is wrong in the state of... whatever state I'm currently in.

Right now I should be in agonizing pain from using my bad hand like that, and there is no area in the Eastern United States to my knowledge that looks like this.

The more I looked around, the more the obsidian rocks, frequent steam vents and general volcanic landscape became more and more familiar.

Suddenly I knew where I was with scientific certainty.

"Iceland." I had lived here several years when my family was stationed here, just before they told me my mad uncle died.

Here lived the last person to truly share my work.

Something might have happened between us if my family had not been scattered by their assignments.

I had not stepped foot in this area in at least thirteen months.

As I said, I was in Iceland.

"You're right about that." one of the voices told me.

I looked around some more. This time I paid closer attention to the details of the distant landscape showing. The sight of my first hovercar crash. The Baldur farm.

"Correct." The other voice I had heard informed me.

Another strange thing. I mused. "Why do those voices sound familiar?"

"Come over here and find out." one of the voices says.

I made my way carefully around a hill and discovered I had been speaking to my brothers.

"What are you guys doing here? Aren't the pair of you supposed to be in Afghanistan?"

"Yes. We are. And you should be in the United States."

"Good point. So what am I doing here?"

"You tell us."

"Last thing I remember, I was pulling Tiffany into the Flying Dutchman. Hmm strange environment, no memories more recent than that, body appears completely healthy... something is going on here."

One of my brothers told me that he was going to show me what happened.

Suddenly we were all back on the Dutchman.

Aboard the Flying Dutchman, everybody had moved into position.

"Everybody hold on, this ride's about to get rough!" Jacob shouted. "Shields down!"

Suddenly Tiffany felt a hand yank on her.

"Oh shit," Mindy shouted, "Fred, watch out!"

"Jacob!"

"Oh fuck. Shields up now!!"

Where Tiffany was shuddered violently. She heard metal creaking and connections snapping all around her.

"Shields still down Jacob..." Bob said.

"All power failing." Diane added watching the various readouts.

"Oh fuck." Jacob said.

The replay of his past stops at this moment.

"I'm sorry, brothers, but that was what I remembered. The blank memory starts at that point."

"We know. We just stopped the playback to make sure that your were paying attention."

"Trust me, I am."

The playback restarts.

Jacob lost his balance as the ship broke through the barrier.

The ship lurched a bit.

Tiffany seemed to be sliding for the hatch.

Jacob grabbed her and put all of his momentum into pushing her back away from the opening. He lost his balance then and started to fall out of the ship himself. He grabbed with his bad hand as he fell out and missed.

Beneath the bridge, the highway was moving with high speed traffic.

Jacob dropped from the Dutchman as the Dutchman continued past the road and started it's descent into the valley next to the other highway.

Jacob fell 4 feet onto the top of a tractor trailer. From there he bounced once then landed on a truck of hay bales. He landed with sufficient force to go through the hay bales and out the truck's side wooden fencing.

From there he flew 10 feet, bounced off of the grass, rolled another 35 feet then dropped.

He landed in the mud, except for his left leg. His left leg slammed in to the only exposed rock, very, very hard.

He did not move after that.

The 'picture' lingers on that image before dissipating.

"Ok." I mused. "That explains things. I'm dead."

"Though there is a dead person here, you are not him... yet."

"Explain."

"Simple. You are standing at the crossroads of your existence. Medically speaking, there is no reason you should not stay alive. But your heart and mind, that is a different story."

"Why?"

"Because you have fears deep down about your future. Both scientifically and romantically. Your fears romantically are valid, but not for the same reasons you were thinking."

My other brother said, "Watch it. We cannot give him too much information on that before he makes his choice."

"Choice?"

"Yes. You stand at the precipice between mere acceptance of who you are and the understanding that you are indeed different. You have the destinies of thousands in your hands. Your actions can determine the very future of the planet."

"The local steam must be fogging your head." I told them. "I'm just a common teenager. Nothing I've done is capable of all that. I can affect a few lives though politics, true, others in the school though sharing my knowledge, but thousands, the planet?"

"Your scientific knowledge is exactly the point. You have already built the first stage of your destiny. The Flying Dutchman. As your ad hoc crew has proven in three flights since the crash, that ship is so far ahead of conventional science that everybody will be waiting to see the moves you make."

"Everybody? Surely you exaggerate. It's been fully active for less than 100 hours. It's never been overseas. Unless they went and put the thing on CNN, there is no way everybody would know about it. Hell, not everybody watches the news channel anyway. It's certain that they do not all watch the same news shows. It's just not possible that everybody can know about it."

"Your wrong, Jacob. They've had two overseas flights, talking to NORAD, the United Nations peacekeepers command in Palestine, the carrier U.S.S. Independence and actually exchanged fire with the Israeli air force. There was also the matter of a full scale firefight when they picked dad up in Jerusalem. By now, every major intelligence agency worth their office space has done some thinking about your little ship."

"So then, I take it, the choice is not really only mine, for my actions now conceivably affect the entire globe."

"Oh, the choice is yours. Make no mistake about that."

"Presupposing that I choose, would my return be so easy? Even Jacob Jehosophat Stone cannot return from the dead on the whim."

"But you are not dead." One brother tells me.

My other brother tells me, "Not quite dead."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You lie in a coma that they think you should not be in. A fair result I suppose since no self respecting bookie would have given odds that you would still be alive. But now you must choose."

"But what makes you, make that what makes the fates think that I can handle all this? I'm just a high school kid with a big brain."