Involve (Lost Fagare Ship Book 3) Read online

  Involve: The Lost Fagare Ship Book 3

  by Edward Antrobus

  Copyright © 2017 SEAM Publishing. All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

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  The flight back to Earth was subdued. They'd said their goodbyes to Brua and the rest of the Starfall's crew and passengers. Brua had made one more attempt to recruit them to the Fagare cause but Jim and the others just wanted to go home.

  Jim couldn't bring himself to feel upset about what happened any more. Maybe the Razak would have never come to the solar system if they hadn't uncovered the ship, but maybe they would have discovered it anyway and there would have been nobody to defend them. All the death and destruction that had occurred over the past forty-eight hours, well, the Razak had been given numerous opportunities to back off. They'd forced his hand, and Jim could only play the cards he had. Folding wasn't an option.

  But as much as they all wanted to return home, Jim knew their lives could never be the same again. For one, apparently there was a wedding to plan. Jim was slowly coming round to the idea of his daughter marrying Bobby, but not thinking about it for long stretches still helped ease that particular pain.

  They'd also been gone for almost two weeks. Mario would probably have fired them by now and found another crew to replace them. Jim just hoped that their equipment, which included his home, hadn't been towed off to the impound. It struck him as funny that they’d just saved the world -twice- and he still wasn’t worth enough to pay for a tow.

  “We will be hitting the atmosphere in five.” Bobby’s voice broke Jim from his reverie. “Please fasten your seatbelts and put your tray in the upright position.”

  Melissa snorted. And, there it is again. The reminder that his little girl was getting married. Money woes had momentarily distracted him but wait, how am I going pay for a wedding?

  The viewscreen showed the rounded nose of the Resolve hitting the atmosphere as an envelope of air glowed red around them. As before, a week ago -or was it a lifetime ago?- the inertial dampeners and shield smoothed out the ride so that Jim would have never guessed.

  “Take us home, Bobby,” Jim said.

  “Got it.” Bobby paused before adding, “Dad.” He cracked a small grin as he waited Jim reaction.

  Jim’s lips turned the opposite direction. “Don’t.”

  Bobby dropped his head and turned his attention back to the controls. They broke through the cloud deck revealing a patchwork of greens and browns.

  Jim leaned forward, straining his eyes in search of their landing site and, hopefully, their equipment. “What’s up with that dust cloud?” He pointed at a plume in the corner of the screen.

  “Maybe the weather’s changing,” Mellissa said. “You know how it blows when it warms up.”

  “Or cools down,” Bobby added. “Or it’s Tuesday.”

  “It’s Sunday,” Chris said.

  “Doesn’t look right for the wind,” Jim interjected before the two could start arguing again. “Look how it starts off real narrow and then billows out. Wait, where are we in relation to Fifty?”

  Melissa tapped a few keys at her console and a street map overlay the view. “You’re right. Somebody’s hauling ass over that old dirt road.”

  Jim scratched his chin. “Probably street racers. Although why they’d want to tear up their suspension on that washboard is beyond me. Just make sure we land well clear of them. Don’t want my first breath of fresh air in a week to be filled with dust.”

  Bobby nodded and banked to the north as the descended. The plume expanded as the masked vehicles turned onto Fifty-Three.

  “Looks, like their following us. Definitely not street racers.” Jim hunched closer to the screen, willing the view to clear.

  “You don’t think its Jenkins again, do you?” Melissa’s brows knitted together as she leaned forward as well.

  “Why use ground vehicles when they have jets?” Chris flicked off the safety on his console. “You want me to-.”

  “No,” Jim cut him off. “Let’s land and see what we’re facing.”

  Bobby brought them over to a field near where their cars were still parked. The thrusters blew stones away from below them, bouncing against their vehicles.

  “Watch out for my paint job,” Melissa yelled.

  Bobby grunted, not turning his attention away from his task. He had to be feeling the weight of his earlier, unsuccessful landing at the Air Force Base in the mountains. The ship wobbled slightly as they hovered a few feet above the ground. Bobby eased forward on the throttle, but went a little too far and the engines went out. The ship dropped with a thud that nearly threw Jim from his seat. He expected something like it to happen and had maintained an iron grip on the way down. He was sick of getting hurt falling out of his own chair.

  They gathered their meager belongings they had on the ship and headed down the cargo door. “Be careful,” Jim told them. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  A series of bright, white lights flashed in his face. He pushed Melissa down and covered her with his body. Chris dropped down beside them. Still blinded by the light, Jim felt rather than saw Chris pull out the Razak pistol they’d liberated from Krazirk after his capture.

  “He’s got a gun,” somebody yelled and a chorus of shouts and sounds of beating feet ensued.

  Jim rubbed his eyes as his vision returned. A hundred yards off, a caravan of news vans crowded the parking area near his RV. Chris lowered his weapon as he took in the same sight as Jim. Seeming to realize that the threat had passed, reporters and cameramen popped up from their makeshift cover, often using each other for protection. They inched back to the ship’s hatch.

  Jim pushed himself off the floor of the cargo bay and raised his hand in greeting. “Uh, hi.”

  A dozen reporters started talking at once, shouting over each other. “Woah, whoa,” he said. The cacophony continued, and Jim raised his voice over theirs. “Quiet!”

  The noise ceased immediately. The reporters looked at each other.

  “Can somebody explain to me what’s going on?” Jim asked.

  The reporters responded all at once. Jim caught the words aliens and battle, but any meaning was lost. Jim whistled to get their attention. “I can’t understand you when you all talk at once. You.” He pointed at a woman holding an NPR microphone. “What’s all this about?”

  She straightened up. “Allyssa Greene with NPR. Your journey to the Moon and back, out to the asteroids a day later, and then a space battle that resulted in the destruction of another ship. All that didn’t go unnoticed. Telescopes around the world have been following you for over a week now. You’re famous.”

  Despite the scare with Jenkins, which seemed like a lifetime ago now, Jim really hadn’t entertained the prospect that anyone might have seen them. “Uh, well, I guess that makes sense. I guess we can do a short Q and A. But we’ve be wearing these clothes for a week. Sonic showers are nice, but I would love a nice, long bath.” If I turn the furnace on now, maybe the water will actually be warm by the time they leav
e.

  Everyone started talking at once. “Or,” he shouted. They quieted a little but still talked over each other. “Or,” he repeated, “we can skip that altogether.” That shut everybody up.

  “Each one of us will pick one reporter to ask one question. After that, you are on private property.” He glanced over at the others who nodded their agreement. “CNN.”

  The CNN cameraman pushed his way to the front to capture the interchange. The reporter with him angled himself between the camera and ship. “Where did you go when you returned the first time? Hiding in the mountains seems like an odd choice after arriving so visibly.”

  Jim opened his mouth to speak, but a glint of like reflecting off of a reporter's camera in the back caught his attention. All of the other cameras had anti-reflective coatings on them, so it stood out. The operator’s face was partially obscured by the equipment in front of it, but Jim still recognized him. Along with Krazirk, it was a face that would haunt his dreams for years. Lieutenant Long wore long, baggy clothing that hid a much fitter shape than the others, but there was no mistaking him.

  He held the camera in an odd stance, more like a gun than a video camera. Jim shivered. Jenkins had sent along insurance to make sure his little fiefdom didn't become public knowledge. “Uh, we were dealing with something we thought was important at the time, but turned out to just be a distraction.”

  Long scowled but otherwise didn't react. Hopefully Jim sent the appropriate message to General Jenkins. We won't mess with you if you don't mess with us.

  Jim barely paid attention to the other questions. He was suddenly incredibly weary. Bobby finished saying something about asteroid mining. Jim didn't bother to dismiss the reporters or respond to the dozens of questions suddenly being shouted at once again. He pushed through everybody and walked into the RV, slamming the door behind him. He didn't stop until he collapsed onto the thin mattress in the cramped bedroom at the back. The room was half the size of the Captain's cabin on the Resolve and the bed a quarter as comfortable, but it was home and that's all the counted.

  He loosened the laces on his heavy steel-toe boots just enough to kick them off and closed his eyes.

  “Are you okay, dad? You were kind of abrupt there.” Melissa's voice sounded above him.

  He didn't bother opening his eyes. “I didn't want to deal with any of this. We did what we had to, but now I just want to put it all behind us.”

  She sat down on the edge beside him. “Like it or not, we're famous now. No getting around it now. Maybe most people will lose interest after a few weeks, but it will never be behind us.”

  “I suppose you're right.” Jim pushed himself up and gave her a hug. “When did you get to be so wise?” He rumpled her hair, knowing she hated that.

  She ignored him while smoothing her ponytail back out. “Well, I was going to say from you, but obviously not.” She stuck out her tongue.

  Jim laughed. It started as a chuckle but grew into doubled-over, gasping for breath laughter. Finally he calmed enough to say, “Thank you. I needed that. I don't think I've laughed since this all started.”

  The RV's door opened, and he heard Bobby's voice. “I can't believe you said that.”

  “Hey, I wasn't actually going to shoot them. But it worked, didn't it?” Chris said.

  Jim entered the living room/office with Melissa behind him. “What's going on?”

  “The reporters weren't leaving, so Chris,” Bobby hitched his thumb at the taller man beside him, “offered to give them a first-hand demonstration of Fagare firepower.”

  Jim smiled. “Normally I'd be upset, but we probably weren't getting rid of them any other way.”

  Chris dropped onto the couch and pulled a stack of business cards out of his vest pocket. “We got a bunch of offers for interviews. New York. Washington. L.A. All expenses paid. Always wanted to go to New York.”

  “Ooh.” Melissa grabbed Jim's arm. “I could finally see the ocean. You never took me as a kid.”

  Jim shook his head. “I lived on the ocean for four years in the Navy. It's just a bunch of water.”

  “The Air & Space Museum is in D.C.” Bobby grinned from ear to ear. “Mel, want to see if we can get married next to the moon rock exhibit?”

  She pursed her lips. “Not unless the rocks are in a church.”

  “It looks like I'm outvoted,” Jim said. “Melissa, I'll leave it to you to make the phone calls and work out the scheduling. And make sure you call Mario first to see if we still have a job. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a lumpy mattress that I miss like crazy.”

  Jim woke and glanced out the window. The sun looked much higher in the sky than he expected. The alarm clock showed it was almost eight thirty. He leapt out of bed. Normally he'd have started working almost two hours ago. He was surprised that Melissa hadn't come in and woken him up.

  He threw open the door into the living room as he pulled a clean shirt over his head. Melissa and Bobby lay draped over each other awkwardly on the couch while Chris snored in Jim's recliner. The scant few bottles of liquor that Jim owned were scattered empty about the room. The events of the past week came rushing back to him.

  Melissa stirred first. “Oh, God. I'm never sleeping on a sofa again.” She stretched out her knotted muscles, waking Bobby.

  He saw Jim and reflexively scooted away from Melissa, falling out of the seat.

  “Looks like you had quite the party out here,” Jim said. “Would have thought you guys would have gone home.”

  “Well, we had a toast to getting back safely,” Bobby said. “And then another for defeating the Razak. Chris even congratulated us on the engagement.” Bobby kicked the recliner a kick. Chris's head rolled to one side, but he continued snoring. “Next thing we knew, we'd been through the Jack already and were in no shape to drive. Hope you don't mind.”

  “Other than dinking two hundred dollars of my booze without me, no,” he smiled.

  “But we're way behind on this project. Melissa, start making those phone calls. Chris and Bobby, let's get to work.” He pushed open the door and a hundred flashes went off in his face.

  Jim slammed the door back closed and rubbed his eyes. “Dammit, they're back.”

  “Told you this wasn't going away,” Melissa said.

  “Well, it's time they learned some manners. Chris, hook up with the Resolve and shoot a plasma bolt in the sky, low power. Just enough so they get the point that it's not a good idea to mess with alien technology.”

  Chris grinned. “Yeah, messing with stuff we don't know nothing about is our job, right?” He closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them. The smile fell into a frown with lines crossing his forehead. “Uh, I can't find the ship.”

  “You're doing it wrong, dummy.” Bobby stood up, stretching his cramped muscles. “You don't even need to close your eyes. Just think of what you want the ship to do.” He leaned backwards until his back cracked but stopped mid-position. “Uh, it's not there.”

  “That's what I said,” Chris yelled.

  “Guys, guys,” Jim said. “What do you mean? We parked it right outside.” He pulled open the blinds over the living room window and pointed.

  “Dad, there's nothing there.”

  He turned and looked where he was pointing. The pebbles in the parking lot formed an outline of the ship when they'd been blown out, but the interior of the circle filled with reporters instead.

  Jim yanked open the door and screamed at the reporters. “What did you do with my ship?”

  The crowd yesterday couldn't begin to compare to the multitude in front of him. Besides the news vans, a dozen busses and a sea of smaller cars spread out into the farm besides their work zone. The mass of people extended to either side of the RV and around them. He ran into the bathroom and peered through the curtain. The onlookers completed surrounded them.

  “What do we do now?” Melissa asked through the open door. She tucked a stray hair back behind her ear. Bobby stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders as
if protecting her from more than a thousand trespassers outside.

  “Get my bull-horn out of the closet. And somebody call the sheriff. Maybe they can get some crowd-control gear from Denver.” Jim grabbed his sunglasses before returning to the still open front door. The smell of the equivalent of a small town crowded into one spot without any plumbing assaulted him. Hand painted signs on bits of cardboard and construction paper waved over the sea of heads with messages either welcoming or warning against aliens. Jim spotted a few appeals for Elvis's return as well.

  Melissa handed him the red and white horn. He turned the volume dial to the max before flicking the power switch. It whined before settling down into a manageable hum.

  “You are trespassing on private property and the authorities have been notified. And that farmer,” Jim pointed at the neighboring farm that more closely resembled a parking lot at the moment, “is kind of ornery. I expect him out with his shotgun any minute.”

  “I'm right here,” somebody yelled. It took Jim a moment for his eyes to focus on the wiry, grey-haired farmer waving his arm from the crowd. Jim would have recognized Devin anywhere. The farmer had not been happy that yet another farm was turning into houses and was a constant annoyance. “I wanted to see the spaceship you boys dug up. Where'd it go?”

  “Okay,” Jim said through the bullhorn. “You're probably safe from getting shot by a farmer.” The crowd laughed. “But the riot police coming from the city are another story.” The laughter stopped. “Now who can tell me what happened to my ship?”

  The woman from NPR pushed her way through the crowd. “Allyssa Green again.” She gave a small wave. “We've been wondering that ourselves. I've been here since three a.m., and it was gone then. A lot of us thought that you'd flown off again for some new adventure, but I, uh, I kind of peaked inside your window.”

  Jim said nothing, waffling between upset that someone had stolen the ship and being upset that this reporter had invaded his privacy. At least he had slept in his pants...