Authors: James F. David
Judgment Day (11 page)
Crow removed an envelope from his pocket and passed it to the man who tucked it away without looking inside.
"As we agreed. If you do this well I will have another job for you."
"Contact me as you did before."
Then the man disappeared into another shadow. Crow returned to the Taurus, then switched to his own car at the mall and drove to his office. The others were gone now. Passing through his office he walked down the hall toward the conference room. The hall was lined with mahogany wainscoting. Halfway down the corridor he stopped, pushing at a hidden silent switch. One panel popped inward and he stepped through, closing the panel behind him. Turning the lights on he went down the stairs to the secret basement. Going directly to the sanctuary he lit a dozen candles, then turned out the lights. At one end of the room was a bloodstained altar where the sacrifices were offered to the one they worshiped. Behind that, high on a pedestal, was the statue he had bought long ago from a gas station parking lot.
The statue had moved only once, putting Crow's life on a new course. But to what destination? Was he to stop the Christians and their spaceship? He stood before the statue praying to his plaster god, asking for direction, begging for a sign. Then for the first time in twenty years the plaster deity's eyes shifted, now looking directly at Crow. Then the eyes began to glow.
Joy welled up in him and he fell prostrate, pledging loyalty.
Try to imagine a world without evil. Do you picture a world without suffering? A world without war? A world without racism? But "suffering," "war," and "racism" have no meaning unless they are contrasted with their opposites. "Good" cannot be imagined, nor even defined, without a reference to evil.
—
A HISTORY OF GOOD AND EVIL
, ROBERT WINSTON, PH.D.
CHRIST'S HOME, CALIFORNIA
H
inding his truck in a thicket, he hiked out of the gully and over the hill, pausing at the road. The cult's property began on the other side. He listened since it was too dark to see far in either direction, hearing only natural night sounds: soft rustles of animals scurrying, clicks and chirps of insects, the sound of the grass brushed by the wind. He crossed the road, hiding in the bushes by the perimeter fence. Removing his pack he took out an ohmmeter and touched a fence wire with the leads. The needle remained flat. He checked each of the fence wires. None were carrying any current. Next he removed a pair of night goggles that turned the dark of night into a greenish imitation of day. No one was in sight.
He cut a hole large enough to crawl through but small enough to be covered by the brush on either side. Once through he checked his weapon again. The Stinger missile was secure. He set off through the woods, carefully moving from tree to tree and pausing frequently to study what was ahead and behind. A short distance in he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. The car came slowly but steadily. When the van approached his entry point, his body tensed. The van passed. He relaxed, waiting for it to drive out of sight. Suddenly it stopped, then backed up until it was nearly parallel with his point of entry. Four men with rifles got out of the van. Another man remained by the van. The men spread out in a skirmish line, walking back along the road as if looking for something. They passed his entry point without detecting the hole.
He studied the man waiting by the van. He was larger than the rest. In the greenish glow he could see the man's head was balding. Night-vision goggles normally turned eyes into dark hollows but this man's eyes glowed bright. Pulling back behind a tree to cover his movement, he removed his goggles and pulled a nightscope from the pack.
Leaning around the tree trunk he zoomed in on the man by the van. He was large, middle-aged, and fit-looking. Most striking were his eyes. In the infrared spectrum they were even brighter. He'd never seen anything like it even in the military phase of his life. Then the man with the bright eyes closed his lids and suddenly his eyes glowed like hot coals. Mesmerized, he watched as the man's head turned from side to side, scanning the woods. Then the strange eyes locked on his hiding spot and he shrank back. When he risked another peek, the man with glowing eyes was waving the other men back to the van. Soon they continued down the road. After the sounds of the van faded, he put his goggles back on and moved toward the launch complex.
After an hour of creeping slowly through the woods he found a good vantage point. The launch facility was straight ahead. A tower with antennae was to his right and the assembly buildings to the left. In between was the concrete pad the
Rising Savior
would lift from for the last time.
Settling in, he prepared his weapon.
There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.
—I CORINTHIANS 1 2 : 4 -5
FELLOWSHIP COMPOUND, CALIFORNIA
J
ohn was saying good-bye to his pregnant wife with a long, slow kiss, while Ira groused behind him.
"John, are you going to work or are you going to smooch all night?" Ira growled.
John finished the kiss with a loud smack, then said, "I'm thinking, I'm thinking."
"Move it," Ira ordered gruffly.
Ira's wife, Ruth, glowered from the side as Ira walked to the
Rising Savior
, pushing John ahead of him. Then as if he could feel her eyes in his back, Ira turned in his silver space suit and shuffled up to her, bending down to kiss her lips.
"Are we working or kissing?" John said playfully.
Ira ignored John, walking to the ship, pausing at the rungs for Mark to offer the prayer.
"Gotta go to work now, honey," John said when Ira finished. "Keep the light on for me."
As they were helped into the capsules, Shelly and Mark headed to the control room. There were only a few members in the hangar tonight, since the novelty of the launches had worn off and requests to visit from distant members of the Fellowship had declined. Virtually every member had visited the hangar at one time or another to see for themselves what they supported.
Shelly and Mark having settled at their consoles, Shelly contacted Omnitech Space Services who had built the Indonesian satellite they were about to orbit. Technicians from Omnitech had flown out from Houston to oversee the modifications of the satellite and attachment to the
Rising Savior
. As soon as the satellite was secure they had been restricted to the one end of the hangar where they could watch the launch. Omnitech sent more technicians than needed and the extras kept snooping around the
Rising Savior
—probably CIA.
The Indonesian satellite was a third larger than Aussat VII. The launch of the Indonesian communications satellite was a testament to the confidence the world was developing in their launch capabilities. A success tonight and a dozen pending contracts would fall into place, cementing a virtual monopoly on orbital services.
Shelly controlled a bank of monitors, most of which displayed interior and exterior camera angles, broadcasts from the
Rising Savior
, and external security cameras. Some of the monitors were tuned to network coverage of the launch.
"Take a look at this," Shelly said, pointing to a monitor she had tuned to CNN. "It's a clip from the House of Representatives."
Cable news was filling time while waiting for the launch. The network was running excerpts from congressional debate over NASA's budget. Representative Coogan from North Dakota was speaking. He had built his reputation as a Republican budget hawk.
" . . . while we've spent billions developing and launching the shuttles, a small group of devoted scientists, spending a fraction of that amount, developed a superior delivery system that orbits the same payload at half the cost. So tell me, fellow congressmen, for what reason do we continue to fund NASA? It is a dinosaur whose age has passed."
The shot changed to a woman at the same podium. It was Representative Sylvia Swanson of California.
" . . . will this cult share its technology with its fellow citizens for the legitimate needs of its country? A country that educated them, protected them from foreign enemies, and provided the technological base that is the foundation for their space delivery system? Men and women in our armed forces have sacrificed their lives to protect these people so they were free to make their discoveries. Now that same technology could be used to save the lives of our brave service men and women. We're not asking them to give us their discovery without compensation. But are they willing to help their country? You know the answer, and until they are willing I will continue to support funding for NASA and for a new Manhattan project to crack the secret of the
Rising Savior."
"Omnitech is ready, Mark," Shelly said, touching her earphone.
It was time and Mark announced the launch over the loudspeaker. The hangar was opened and the
Rising Savior
pulled toward the launch pad.
The Stinger in its various evolutions in service since 1981 has been the most widely procured and used man portable air defence system (MANPADS) The system has been continuously evolved to exploit advances in technology and provide greater capability, especially in a countermeasure environment. Basic Stinger was used extensively in Afghanistan, and has been credited with the kill of 250 Russian aircraft when used by operators with only limited training.
—JANE'S MISSILES AND ROCKETS
FELLOWSHIP COMPOUND, CALIFORNIA
A
t the emergence of the
Rising Savior
, he readied the Stinger missile, removing the protective cover, then extending the shoulder support and grip. Removing a pistol from his pack, he packed everything else away, ready to make a quick getaway. The launcher would be left behind but free of any fingerprints. Having gotten this far he had little doubt of getting away. Rescue operations after the destruction of the
Rising Savior
would occupy everyone in the compound until long after he was gone.
The tractor pulled the
Rising Savior
to the middle of the concrete launch pad. A man wearing headphones walked behind the ship, a long cord connecting his headphones to the spaceship. When the
Rising Savior
was positioned, the tractor was unhitched and returned to the hangar. The man in the headphones remained, occasionally speaking into his microphone.
He stood, leaning against the tree, ready to shoot. The Stinger was a heat-seeking missile but the guidance system would be of little use here since there was no engine exhaust for the missile to track. It would be a strictly point and shoot kill. The ship would need to be eight hundred meters distant before he could shoot, the missile using the distance to arm itself and reach its Mach two flight speed.
Finally, the man with headphones disconnected himself from the ship, backing away, putting on sunglasses. Then the ship glowed bright and he turned away. When he looked back the ship was floating in a cloud of dust. It was almost time.
Bracing against the tree he steadied himself, sighting on the rising ship.
The craft rose slowly, the dust cloud clearing. His sight was unobstructed and he tightened on the trigger, ready to gently squeeze it. The
Rising Savior
cleared the top of the building and he began the countdown. "Four, three, two . . . " Suddenly the tree next to him splintered and he flinched in surprise, shooting the Stinger. Out of the dark came the man with the glowing eyes. The mechanic reached for his pistol but the man was on him, breaking his nose with the heel of his hand. Pain shot to his brain and his eyes teared. Fighting for his life, he reached for his gun, cocking it as he turned. Then his gun hand was locked in an iron grip. The man with glowing eyes was too strong. With his left hand, the mechanic pulled a survival knife from the sheath on his belt. Before he could plunge it home another man appeared, pointing a rifle at his head. The knife still poised to strike he hesitated, deciding between life and death. He chose life—he'd escaped from jail before.
"I surrender," he said, tossing his knife to the side. "I want a lawyer waiting for me when I get to the police station."
More armed men appeared out of the darkness. Now the man with burning eyes stepped forward to stand toe to toe.
"We're not the police," the man with glowing eyes said.
"I demand to be turned over to the police!" he repeated, realizing he had surrendered to the cult.
His captors laughed, triggering a rivulet of sweat that trickled down his back.
"Turn me in, you've got the evidence!"
The men laughed again.
"I'm afraid we've lost confidence in our criminal justice system," the man with the strange eyes said. "It looks like you're going to have to answer to God."
. . .and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.
—I THESSALONIANS 5:23
FELLOWSHIP COMPOUND, CALIFORNIA
S
helly and Mark were monitoring the launch when John's shout exploded in their ears.
"Whoa!" John screamed. "Someone's shooting at us!"
"Say again," Mark said, not believing what he heard.
"Quiet, John," Ira ordered. "Mark, we've been fired on. I think it was a missile. I'm taking us to orbit."
Now the hangar behind them erupted as witnesses came running in. Floyd carried word immediately to the command center.
"Someone fired a missile at the
Rising Savior!"
Floyd said breathlessly.
"Calm down, Floyd," Mark said. "Is the
Rising Savior
safely away?"
"Yes. Ira took her up lickety-split."
"Are you sure only one missile was fired?" Mark asked.
"That's all I saw," Floyd said.
If it had been an all-out attack the compound would be taking incoming rounds by now, Mark knew. Mark guessed the
Rising Savior
was the sole target but Mark couldn't take a chance. Mark turned to Shelly.
"Gabriel's Trumpet," Mark said.
To his surprise Shelly broke into a smile, then she left, hurrying into the hangar as fast as an eight-month-pregnant woman can move.
"Floyd, spread the word, we're clearing out."
"It's done," Floyd said, hurrying after Shelly.
Contingency plans had been made in case they were attacked and Floyd was activating those now.
"Ira, Gabriel's Trumpet," Mark said into his microphone.
"Gabriel's Trumpet," Ira responded, then the radio went dead.
Then Mark contacted their San Antonio compound.
"Gabriel's Trumpet," Mark said when they responded.
"Gabriel's Trumpet," came the reply.
Next Mark activated the "wipe" program. Soon a coded data stream was beamed to their satellite and then relayed to San Antonio. Immediately after, a worm spread through their computer network destroying the operating system and all the files, leaving nothing but ordinary computer hardware for any invaders. If the Fellowship lost the compound, the computers would be an expensive loss, but their technology would be safe. Then Mark hurried into the hangar.
Floyd was at the hangar doors and Mark signaled him to open them. The Fellowship was about to reveal another one of its secrets.
