Sleeper Seven (14 page)

Digging into his pocket, he produced her confiscated iPhone.

"There's an App for that," he quipped, tossing the phone to her. "Scan your thumb for me, then go into the App store and download the
Krazy Kats
game. That's with two 'K's."

She looked at him sideways while unlocking the phone via thumbscan, then searched for the game. "Looks pretty lame, only got one star ratings, seems like most of them say 'WORST GAME EVAR'."

"Just download the app already," Len retorted impatiently.

"At least it's free," she quipped, scanning her thumb again to authorize the download. And indeed it was a lousy game, consisting only of two poorly drawn cat heads floating about the screen. Poking one of the heads would prompt a recorded cat yowl, while a number at the bottom incremented by one.

"Wow, this is really lame."

"Well, the goal was to have people just ignore the app, but it turns out it was
so
bad it became sort of a thing on the Internet. Now there's all sorts of Krazy Kats fan sites. You can even get a hat if you want to," Len added, chuckling.

"Hey, I've actually seen people wearing those! I never knew what it was all about."

"Yeah — they all got 'em around here too," he noted, motioning towards the engineers still anxiously waiting in the wings. "OK, so anyway, wait until one of the heads hits the bottom of the screen, and when it does, shake the phone twice then swipe down with three fingers. She did so, and a shade dropped over the game, revealing a new screen with the familiar map view and blue dot indicating her location.

"Cool. OK, now what?" Jess asked, pinching and zooming around the map screen.

Len came around to look over her shoulder. "It's natural-language based. First we need to tell it which ship you want."

He whispered into her ear, "Say
'OK Mustang Three, Enable'
."

"OK Mustang Three, Enable," she spoke aloud.

"Authorize new pilot?" the app replied in a Siri-like voice, as it popped up a Bluetooth pairing code screen.

"Oh yeah, forgot about this part," he said, "punch in four zeros to pair it."

"Really? Four
zeroes
Len?" she chided derisively while entering the code. "My bluetooth keyboard has better security."

When the pairing completed, she spoke the incantation again, and the craft responded with a quick succession of faint chirping noises, beginning at the front and progressing along the sides to the rear, until finally joining together in a barely audible hum.

"Enabled," the app declared.

"Why is it called a Mustang?" Jess asked, curious about the name. "After the car?"

"No, not the car, but the car's own namesake: the P-51," Kal explained. "Which if you know your history, was a revolutionary aircraft for its time. It performed better at low altitudes, and was initially used for long-range recon missions, which is exactly what you'll be doing in number Three here."

Jess hadn't seen any wheels during her examination, but nevertheless didn't even consider that this might be a flying machine — it didn't seem to have any wings on it.

"This thing flies? And this is the remote?" she asked credulously, holding up her phone.

"Oh boy, does it fly. And it ain't no toy, neither. Tell it to open."

"OK Mustang Three, Open."

The craft emitted a hiss as a horizontal seam appeared around its midsection. Another hiss, and a vertical seam appeared down the length of the top. The two newly separated halves of the canopy swung back and away gracefully, like a beetle's wings, revealing a dazzlingly white interior. It contained two small reclining seats, yet little else: there didn't appear to be any controls or indicators whatsoever inside the vehicle. She did notice a single white wire coiled within a cavity between the seats, and looking closer was amused to discover it was an iPhone charging cable.

"It's pretty much cruise control all the way," Kal explained. "You tell it where to go, and it goes. You can override it for manual control if needed, just ask. She'll be prepped and ready for you in the morning, cause we've got to get you out of here before breakfast tomorrow. We need to head back now, though, as the team here needs to do some final prep work."

"Au Revoir, ma chérie," Len called to the craft, ushering them both outside and sliding the hangar door closed behind them.

~ 31 ~

T
hat afternoon and evening they went over the plan. The subject was being held in the largest hotel — indeed, the largest building — on the entire Korean peninsula. They didn't know which floor he was on; it was her job to figure that out using her abilities. Physically, she would remain in the craft at all times. When his location was discovered, she would make contact, in whatever manner necessary, and lead him to the craft for the return flight home. The plan was to get her there at 4:00 AM local time, which would give her an hour of darkness for the extraction before the sun began to rise.

After a final prep the next morning, she boarded the craft with nothing but her phone, a bottle of water, and a few granola bars. Kal provided her with some critical last minute instructions.

"Now, the only facilities on board is gonna be that water bottle when it's empty, so you wanna make sure
you're
empty before you head out, alright?"

Jess laughed. "Taken care of. Ready to go."

"OK then, good luck to you," she said, suddenly looking very serious. "Bring him back for us. It's more important than you know." She and Len both shook her hand, and then stood back from the craft.

"OK Mustang Three, close please," she requested with a slight crack in her voice; Kal's seriousness had thrown her.

The top halves of the craft swung over her head and locked into place, joining to form one seamless surface. Instead of darkening, however, it was still brightly lit inside. Feeling momentarily disoriented and claustrophobic, Jess was relieved when the triangular windscreen panels in front of her turned transparent, followed by the footwells, and then the sides. She had a crystal clear view up, down, and around.

The craft, via her phone, began speaking to her in the familiar Siri voice.

"Ready for departure to programmed destination. Distance five thousand nine hundred ninety-six miles. Acceleration slope adjusted for current occupant body mass index of twenty-two point two. Maximum speed will be one thousand three hundred and eighty-four miles per hour, attained one hundred and eighty-two seconds after departure. Estimated travel time is four hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds. Originating location time is currently six-thirty-seven A.M. Pacific standard time. Destination location time is currently eleven-thirty-seven P.M. Korean standard time. Destination arrival time will be four A.M. Korean standard time. Shall we go?"

One thousand three hundred miles per hour?
Jess marveled to herself. She couldn't remember how fast commercial jets flew, but she knew it was less than the speed of sound, which was around seven hundred miles per hour.
I'm going to be zipping along at Mach II in this thing that's no bigger than a Cooper Mini?
she thought nervously. They told her how long the trip would take, but she didn't think to calculate how fast she would be traveling.
OK, Jess, let's put on the big girl pants,
she thought, calming herself. What she was doing was important: she was willing to believe that.

"Yes, let's go."

The craft began a round of chirping again, settling into the high-pitched hum, which sounded louder from the inside. Though Jess couldn't feel any movement, she watched the floor of the hangar recede slowly as the craft lifted away from the sawhorses. Leaning back, she found the seats to be more comfortable than any other seats she had been in; in fact they were so cozy as to be a little disturbing. It felt like she was being hugged by the thing, as if it were alive.

The craft rotated until it faced the open hangar door, then paused a moment before swiftly gliding forward. She had time for a quick wave to Kal and Len as they sped by on each side.
They were saluting me,
she realized, and suddenly choked up, had no time to turn and salute back before they were gone, and she was outside, rising. The acceleration increased smoothly, like a roller coaster, pushing her back into her seat. Lifting itself over the foothills of the approaching mountain range in a jagged stair-step fashion, the craft seemed to be automatically following the contour of the ground one hundred feet below.

She watched the rocks, scrub, and mesquite trees stretch into a blur of reds, browns, and greens as they sped past beneath her. Above the hum, a high-pitched whine emanated from the front of the craft. Increasing in volume, it reached an ear-splitting crescendo before exploding into a series of thunderous
pops,
as if she were inside a popcorn machine. The noise subsided as the craft surged forward violently with additional speed, while a cloud-like mist formed ahead of her, blocking a portion of her forward vision.

"Sound barrier crossed. Slipstream envelope active and stable."

The craft continued onward, traveling up, over, and then down the far side of the mountain range in a span of minutes, while maintaining a consistent, yet disturbingly low, elevation.

"Maximum speed achieved," the craft announced as the acceleration abated. As the hum of the engines receded, Jess began to relax and take in the view. Staring out the side window at the desert landscape, she began to space out. A sudden jolt jerked her attention back to the craft; it had suddenly rocked to one side and then back again, as though hitting a pothole in the sky.

"What the hell was that?" she yelled out, tightly clutching the arms of her chair.

"Avian avoidance maneuver," the craft nonchalantly answered.

Though still unsettled, Jess was somewhat reassured, if not by the actual explanation, then at least by the craft's self-confidence, and so she leaned back again. Below, the ground rushed by unnaturally, like an old silent movie, making her dizzy. Looking ahead, she spied a blue line on the horizon which began to expand towards her, until a flash of yellow beneath her feet signalled the demarcation between land and sea. Her forward view, now, consisted of only differing shades of blue: lighter above, and darker below.

As the sun was behind her, Jess leaned forward and searched for a moment before finding the small dark shadow of the craft on the water below. Getting dizzy again, she focused on the horizon, and watched as a wall of what looked like lego blocks rose from the sea, until below them emerged the massive red bow of a container ship. As she was trying to read the name painted on the hull, the craft banked hard to the left, pushing her into the side of her seat. Already knowing the answer, she felt the need to ask anyway.

"What was that?"

"Merchant marine vessel avoidance maneuver," the craft responded, again with the same confidence, but also with a hint of seeming annoyance at her paranoid questioning. Closing her eyes, she settled back and asked no further questions about the sudden bumps, potholes and violent banking they encountered, for fear the craft would lose any remaining respect for her.

She awoke thirty minutes later, and while searching again for their shadow on the water, unsuccessfully this time, she found the sky had taken on a distinctly orange-ish hue. Confused, it took her a moment to realize the craft, with its tremendous speed, had been outrunning the sunrise, and would soon reverse the daybreak entirely, returning the sun below the eastern horizon behind her.
Am I going back in time?
she wondered groggily, but of course that didn't make any sense, though it certainly did feel as though the previous night was indeed returning.

An hour later, in darkness, her confusion was put to rest as the craft interrupted her contemplative star gazing.

"Crossing International Date Line."

Of course,
she mused to herself, as she recalled from the mission briefing the fact that Pyongyang was fifteen hours ahead of them. She had not slipped
back
into the previous night, but was instead propelled
forward
into the early morning hours of the next day.

"What are we over right now?" she queried the craft, her curiosity drifting from above to below.

"We are currently thirty meters above the Bering Sea," the craft replied.
How cute that she uses the royal 'We',
Jess reflected, until she digested the rest of the statement: she thought they had been traveling West the whole time, yet here they were above the waters off Alaska.

"Where are we going!" she exclaimed with alarm. She didn't care what the craft thought of her at this point — she could be an abductee of this sentient iPhone-powered craft for all she knew.

"Pyongyang, North Korea. Time to destination one-hour and fifty-three minutes," the craft replied calmly, without a hint of annoyance this time. Jess relaxed again, and made a mental note to check a globe later to see what kind of circuitous route they were taking. In the meantime, she gazed out across the dark sea, thinking of the fishermen below who plied these waters.

Looking up, the blanket of stars stoked thoughts of the seafarers who once used the sky to navigate this endless expanse.
Speeding through a seemingly endless darkness can't help but make one a little philosophical,
she cogitated.

~ 32 ~

P
lacing her focus back on the mission, and not the least bit tired from her time travel forward into the following night, Jess passed the remaining time in the darkness going over the plan. The destination, she recalled, was a tall triangular building which she would 'park' the craft next to — halfway up the side — while she exited her body and investigated the floors one by one. Once she found the room containing the subject, she would maneuver the craft as close as possible to his window, then alert him to her presence. He would board the craft with her, and off they would go. Easy-peasy; at least that was the idea.

While going over possible contingencies, she noticed scattered lights zipping by below; she was over land again.