G -1

by Kyle Thomas Bruhnke

  “Hey! The pizza!” Jen yells suddenly. I hadn’t heard a timer go off, but I now detect the faint odor of burning crust. Kylie quickly gets the oven mitts on while Jen opens the oven door. A thin veil of smoke rises to the kitchen ceiling.

  “That was close,” Kylie says as she pulls the pan out. The crust is a little black around the edges, but otherwise looks edible. Setting the hot pan on top of the stove, we each grab a plate and help ourselves in silence, temporarily distracted from our concerns. It’s now a familiar scene; the project crew sharing a lunch or dinner together.

  “You know,” Jen says after a while, “we’re going to need a cover story for when the rest of the FACE club starts to come out to help decorate the float anyway.”

  “Yeah, I hear the Future Astronaut and Celestial Explorers club does have a few smarties in it,” Kylie replies, “but most of them are already here.”

  There is a snicker around the table. The mood brightens a little as we eat, our immediate troubles drifting away from the snooping Stiles. “So other than the tubes and controllers being meant for lights, what else do we have to guard against?” I ask between bites.

  “All the self-contained power, I think,” says Willie. “Why should we need two fuel cells and all the hydrogen?”

  “Just temporary,” Jared replies. “After the parade, we’ll be removing them and just plug the exhibit in. Only one’s necessary for the lighting. The second is a backup.”

  “It’s a little thin but I guess it will have to do,” says Jennifer.

  “You know, all the controls we’re using aren’t really necessary either,” Kylie points outs. “Not for just the gyroscope exhibit. What do we say about them?”

  “That we want them to add a little authenticity to our cockpit - something to play with. Or maybe we could say they’re there to control hydraulic lifts to better simulate flight,” Jared suggests.

  “That would negate the gyroscope’s function,” I say.

  “Then let’s just stick with the ‘for show’ story,” Jen concludes.

  Finishing his lunch and pushing back from the table, Willie asks, “What evidence do we need to remove from the hangar to cover our tracks?”

  “Is the clipboard still out there?” I wonder. “It has all of the component weights on it. Somebody could look at that and wonder why we need that information for a structure that isn’t going to fly. It also has some sketches on it, though I think they are pretty old.”

  “Ok, let’s remember to bring the clipboard back. What else?” Willie presses. We all look around at each other. “Well, let’s just try and remember to look around when we get back out there. There’s bound to be more. And if anybody thinks of anything else that could point to our real purpose, bring it up so we can all decide on the best, or at least the same story to use as a cover.” He’s enjoying this challenge.

  “So how are we going to test our flight readiness before I actually have to fly off during the parade?” I ask. “With Stiles occasionally peeking over our shoulder, it obviously can’t be during a time when he’s around.”

  “And he’s around most of the time,” Kylie adds. “Maybe on a weekend. He does take some time off. We’d just have to watch him and be ready to move when he leaves.”

  “What about at night?” I ask.

  “That might be riskier,” Jared responds. “We’d have to turn on lights, and that could draw the attention of anyone who’s helping Stiles keep watch.”

  “What if we snuck in and didn’t turn on lights?” Jen probes the idea a little more. “With the doors closed and using only flashlights, we could be fairly discreet. There’s going to be snoops around at any time of day, if at all.”

  “That’s probably true enough,” Jared acknowledges. “At least at night, or in the early morning hours, we might just catch them napping. Kylie and I will try to get an idea of who’s around and when. Maybe that will help decide which is the better way to go.”

  We all agree to that. Intelligence always helps. Maybe I could ask Gramps for his thoughts, too. One by one we clear our plates, getting ready for the afternoon’s task.

  “So what’s next?” Jen asks.

  “We continue with the top skin,” Willie says. “Then tomorrow we should start on the wiring.”

  “How soon before we can test the whole thing with some LEDs?” Kylie wants to know.

  “Day after tomorrow?” Willie suggests looking around at everybody else. There are no objections.

  “Who’s getting the LED’s,” Jared asks.

  “I will,” I volunteer. “I’ll take one of the controllers back home and run the whole thing by Gramps. He might not have a concern, but I’d like to double check just to make sure.”

  “Good idea,” Jen and Jared reply together.

  “Well, let’s get going,” Willie urges, heading for the door. He opens it and passes out of the house. “Thanks for lunch, Jen,” he calls back.

  Kylie turns to me. “Want to come back to get that controller?” she teases.

  “Umm, I’ll just wait here,” I answer, feeling my earlier embarrassment return to a small degree.

  Jared notices as he passes by. “What’s that about?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I reply awkwardly as they pass out the door, Jen pushing Jared ahead of her.

  “C’mon, let’s catch up to Willie,” she says to him. Then I think I hear her whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”

  The door closes. Kylie has gone to her room to get the controller. I wonder how long it will be until that incident is forgotten. I can hear her coming back down the hall.

  “Here you go,” she says, handing me a small bundle. “I wrapped it in a towel so it wouldn’t get bumped too badly on the ride home.”

  “Thanks,” I say, quietly taking the package from her.

  “Well, let’s catch up to the others.” I open the door. “And Ty?”

  “Huh?” I say, stopping to look back at her.

  “Don’t let Jared get the better of you about what happened earlier. Just tell him to grow up.”

  “Sure,” I reply. “Thanks.” But as I close the door behind us, I think I’m the one that needs to grow up.

  Another Partner

  “Can you come over?” Kylie asks as soon as I answer my phone.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “Dad needed some hangers and looked in my closet.”

  “So, what’s the prob…” I begin. Then it hits me. “Oh. Crap!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I tell her. “Bye.” I end the call as she says goodbye, then lean back into my chair. A wave of resignation flows over me. It’s over. Her dad will never let us continue. We were careless, but it seemed like the best place to hide the containment tubes. I hear creaking on the stairs up to the loft where I am sitting. I slowly spin the chair around as Gramps’ head crests the landing.

  “Hey there, young man,” he calls out joyfully. I give him a dejected look, offering no response as he reaches the top of the stairs. “I was going to ask how things are going, but I seem to sense some angst. Anything you can share with me?”

  Another thing I like about my grandfather is he never pries like a parent. If I want to tell him something, he’ll listen. If I don’t, he doesn’t force me. “Kylie’s dad found the containment tubes in her closet,” I mumble.

  “Oh?” he replies simply, walking over to lean against the table. I furtively watch as he stares out the window, apparently contemplating my words. He glances at me quickly, before returning his gaze towards the window. “I was wondering how long it would be before he’d find out what’s going on. He’s a smart man, Carl is, and I’m surprised it took so long. I guess he’s been preoccupied with the change in ownership at the launch facility. Still, it was probably only a matter of time.”

  “We only needed a few more weeks,” I stress. “Why couldn’t he have waited until then?”

  “No,” Gramps states, sounding positive, “Now wait a
minute. You were telling me the other day how you think our friend Mr. Stiles was becoming suspicious again.”

  “Yeah. We think he’s been snooping around at night when everybody’s gone home. But I don’t see how this helps.”

  “Well, think about it. Stiles works for Carl, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If we can convince Kylie’s dad that we’re doing the right thing, he might be able to help us divert some of Mr. Stiles’ attention.”

  I was beginning to understand Gramps’ thought process. “So, the problem to be solved is how do we convince Kylie’s dad?”

  Gramps smiles, “You’re beginning to see opportunities instead of problems, aren’t you?”

  “I have a good teacher,” I beam, my disposition improving. “But I’m not very good at organizing my arguments yet,” I plead hopelessly, “and I’m supposed to be over at Kylie’s in ten minutes or so. She just called, and I guess her dad wants to talk to all of us.”

  “Would you mind if I came along?” Gramps asks. “I might be able to help out.”

  “That would be great!”

  “Then we’d better get going,” he says, starting for the stairs. “Maybe you should bring an envelope of bits. And the DVDs of your experiments, too. We may need to offer Mr. Charles some proof of what’s going on.” I get up to fetch the items before following him down the stairs. “And when did Jared’s dad become Kylie’s dad?” he adds at the bottom. “You seem to have shifted your focus in that household.”

  We head out the door. I know he is teasing me. “It’s a bit nicer, don’t you think?” I say. He chuckles as we get in the truck. I hadn’t really noticed, but I guess I have begun favoring my friendship with Kylie. But then, if Jared is back with Jennifer, his focus is shifting as well.

  We pull into the parking area in front of their house. Jennifer’s scooter is parked up next to the porch. Along the outside, Willie’s beast looms large. “Now don’t say anything about the bits you brought along until we find out exactly what’s been told already,” Gramps instructs me as we mount the porch. I only rap on the door once before it opens. Jennifer invites us inside. Nobody’s saying anything. There’s a great deal of tension in the air.

  Gramps offers a cheerful greeting. “Hello everyone.” There are a few nods. Only Kylie responds with a soft “Hi”. I figure Gramps is trying to assess the mood in the room, which isn’t difficult. An IC board and one of the containment coil frames is sitting in the center of the kitchen table. Gramps reaches over and picks it up. “Nice piece of engineering,” he compliments, looking at Jennifer. She smiles a ‘Thank you’, but seems loath to break the silence as he sets the structure back on the table. “Where’s your fath…” he begins to ask Jared, but at that moment Mr. Charles walks into the kitchen. “Hello Carl,” Gramps offers with a merry tone, sticking his hand out in greeting.

  Mr. Charles stops and stares at him, neither accepting the offered handshake, nor responding to the joyful greeting. “Don’t tell me you’re involved in this?” he asks irritably. Walking angrily around to the head of the table, he yanks the chair out and sits down, clasping his hands tightly in front of himself on the table. The kitchen is silent. Time seems to stop. Finally, showing restraint, he beats his clenched hands on the table asking, “Will somebody please explain to me what is going on?”

  I watch as he looks up at Jared before slowly panning the room to see who might begin. When he comes to me, I quickly stare down at the floor just like everyone else. I hear Gramps clear his throat. “Are you going to speak for these children?” I hear Mr. Charles ask.

  At that, I look up at Gramps. He is facing Kylie’s dad with a look of subdued pity. Then he speaks. “First off,” he begins quietly, “these children, as you call them, are incredibly creative and smart. With a small amount of encouragement, I believe they could be great leaders of industry when their time comes.”

  “And will these great, future leaders steal from others when they come into their own?” Mr. Charles asks heatedly, banging his still clenched fists on the table a second time.

  “Obviously you have heard a rumor to think that,” Gramps replies calmly. “Who is accusing them of stealing, and what did they allegedly steal?”

  “The most I’ve been told is that something was found to be missing on the second night after the shiff landed,” Mr. Charles states. “At first, I figured they just misplaced something, but now I find this,” he reaches over to the containment tower, “and I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “So you really don’t know what they’re missing?” Gramps pries gently.

  “Not yet. But I’ll find out sooner or later. My kids know that!” A look of frustration crosses his face. Stiles obviously hasn’t given him the whole story. He turns the tower over in his hands, curiously peering into its workings, wondering about its purpose.

  Gramps crosses silently over to Kylie to whisper something in her ear. She leaves the kitchen quietly. Turning to Mr. Charles again, he asks “What would you think of these children, if I told you I believe they have almost foiled an attempted theft? What if they stumbled across a conspiracy of corporate thieves to abscond with international property?”

  “You mean like whistle-blowers?” Mr. Charles responds cynically. He sets the tower firmly back on the table, leans back in his chair letting out a long sigh. “I’d have a hard time believing that,” he stumbles. “I guess I’d be proud. But you’d have to offer pretty good evidence,” he concludes forcefully.

  Kylie reenters the room with her laptop and hands it to Gramps. I fumble around with the discs in my pocket, waiting to be asked for them. Gramps speaks again. “And what do you believe are the property rights to any discovery made on the International Space Station?”

  “Oh, c’mon Tom, I’m no lawyer, and I haven’t studied anything like that.”

  “Then what’s your personal opinion?” Gramps continues.

  “Well, there’s really only two ways it could be. Either each country owns what’s created in its own lab or it belongs to the consortium. Personally, I guess I feel that since every nation in the group contributes to the function of the station, then each group should have at least some rights to anything that happens up there, kind of like any investor in a company is entitled to any profit distribution that that company might enjoy.”

  I see Gramps relax a little as he turns to me, nodding that it’s time to play the recordings. He sets the computer on the table as I step forward, laying the DVDs on the table next to the laptop. Mr. Charles looks at the disks, then at me, then at Gramps expectantly. “Before you view these, I think it would be helpful if Jared would tell of the activities beginning with the shiff’s landing.”

  Jared keeps the story brief. He tells how the three of us met to watch the landing out at The Hill; of him and me sneaking in for a better look; the armed security guards; the mysterious floating box; and finally the visit from then Captain Stiles and the mystery man in the black car.

  “I remember that night.” Mr. Charles comments quietly to himself. “They kept me busy in the office with stupid paperwork. If I were to believe you, I’d have to say they didn’t want me out there to witness what was going on.” He reflects for a moment, letting the thought grab hold of him. “Then Stiles spotted your campfire and dragged me along to question you. So you lied that night when he asked you what you saw?” he asks agitated by the thought.

  “Actually, sir,” I begin hesitantly, “nobody asked us if we had snuck in for a closer view. Only what we had seen from The Hill.”

  Mr. Charles looks at me suspiciously. “I guess that is true, in a sense. Continue son.”

  “The next night…” Jared resumes his story. I look up at Kylie who is watching me as I tune her brother out. She has a bright-eyed smile on her face. Hopeful, I wonder if she knows her dad well enough to already feel that he is on our side. Jared quickly tells about finding the bits, and our escape from the shiff, thanks to Uncle Earl.

  Mr. Charles relax
es, laying his hands flat on the table. “Earl just never ceases to surprise me! Giving himself up for you two? Sometimes I wonder if he’s not the smartest one of us all. He must have known, with his history that he’d get off easy.” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief before looking back at Jared. “Do you have some of these, um, bits, did you call them?”

  Jared looks at me. I look at Gramps, who nods once more. Pulling the envelope from my pocket, I place my empty hand above it and let go. Mr. Charles watches in disbelief as it floats up. “May I see the envelope?” he asks.

  “Be careful not to open it with the flap up,” I caution him as he takes the envelope.

  “Oh, I think I understand the concept here,” he replies. He doesn’t open it but only lets it float from one hand into the other several times. “I never would have guessed this was possible,” he mutters. He looks at the containment tower. “So let me guess. You’ve already figured out how to control these things?”

  “And then some. A few of the experiments have been recorded. Which one is this?” Gramps asks, picking up the disc labeled ‘Exp1’.

  “That’s the first tower experiment, isn’t it Jen?” I ask.

  “Um, yeah, and I think there’s a recording of conversions on there too,” she replies, trying to recollect.

  “Wait,” Jared’s dad interrupts, “conversion?”

  “Yeah,” Jennifer continues. “What we didn’t record is how Willie found out what they were made of…”

  “Thanks to the high school’s equipment,” Willie chimes in.

  “And that they are very similar to the nanotubes used in the hydrogen generators that Tyler’s dad services, and that they can transfer properties just like a magnet can pass its magnetism to other steel objects.”

  Mr. Charles looks curiously at the envelope. “So are these what came off the shiff or some of the… converts?”

  “We don’t have any of the originals left actually,” Gramps says. “Do you remember the day after the landing, you, Jared, and Stiles came over to our house?”