Stars Fell on Trieste

by M. Alan Marr

  “Well, shit, I don’t know, then,” Chaz says, throwing his hands up in frustration.

  Steve looks at Dev. “If we’re out of contact that long, they’ll think we abandoned them.”

  “Or worse,” Chaz adds. “They’ll think something happened to us and call the cops.”

  “If it was just you and Dev leaving, that would be one thing,” Steve says. “I could manage that. But the six of us go off the grid would be extremely suspicious. I don’t see how we could pull it off.”

  “And all this team-building we’ve been doing would go right down the drain,” Chaz adds.

  Dev thinks out loud. “Maybe we shouldn’t leave the flight attendants out of the equation.”

  “You know they love you guys,” Steve says with sincerity.

  “Would they still love us if they knew what’s really going on?” Dev says.

  Steve nods without hesitation. “I think they would.”

  “If we don’t tell them,” Chaz says, “sooner or later, they’re going to freak out and think we’re never coming back. Even if they don’t call the cops, they’d definitely call the lawyers, and then everything, and I mean everything, from Alabama to Zurich, would be affected.”

  Dev shakes his head. “That is definitely not an option. There’s too much at risk.”

  “What do we do if we do tell them?” Steve says.

  Dev takes a moment and looks at both men. “If we bring them with us, they can be trained to be more than just flight attendants.”

  “To do what?” Chaz says.

  “Any number of things,” Dev says. “And, they would be in a position to protect us. Protect our assets. Protect the whole operation. Run interference, if necessary. If they know and were interrogated by the authorities, they can fabricate a cover. If they don’t know and they’re interrogated, they may inadvertently leak information that could be harmful to us.”

  Steve looks at Dev. “Have the authorities ever caught wind of you?”

  “No, not really.”

  Chaz laughs. “Remember that Mexican satellite that malfunctioned?”

  Steve thinks. “Yeah . . . Its orbit got all screwed up or something?”

  “That was Dev.”

  “No way!”

  “Way,” Dev replies. “I needed to send out a message. I didn’t realize it would generate headlines.”

  Steve laughs. “Far out. I guess your secret’s still safe if that’s all that happened.”

  “Yeah, but then again, quietly hiding two ships in Alabama is a little different than a coastal squadron with six TransAt fighters coming and going.”

  “We’re going to have to be more careful,” Chaz says. “On all fronts. The risk of you and I knowing about Dev is one thing. Adding three more pilots and three flight attendants into the mix leaves a lot of unknowns.”

  ***

  The boardroom conversation goes round and round about the flight attendants. Viewpoints are shared. Counterpoints are offered. But, in the end, it comes down to will they, or won’t they, fear the worst? There’s really no way to sugarcoat any of this.

  “So we’re all in agreement?” Dev says, and then reiterates, “We include the flight attendants and make this an all or nothing team effort for the entire crew.”

  “Yes,” Chaz says with firm conviction.

  “Yes, sir,” Steve says, echoing Chaz’s determination.

  “Very well,” Dev says. “So ordered.”

  The meeting goes on for the better part of another hour. Furtive glances from Annette and Milo toward the boardroom windowpane reveal nothing.

  Chaz, now sitting against the edge of the boardroom table next to Steve’s chair, folds his arms and looks squarely down at him. Steve is slumped down, looking very worried.

  “Steve, your job just got a lot harder.”

  Milo and Annette are standing in the upper galley wiping glassware and watch Steve leave the boardroom looking a bit flushed in the face. He approaches the galley so preoccupied he doesn’t realize the flight attendants are watching him.

  Annette quickly pours a glass of water and elbows Milo.

  “Uh, Capitano? You okay?”

  “Milo, yes.”

  Annette hands Steve the glass of water, and he drinks it down.

  “What’s going on, Steve?” Annette says with concern. “Did you switch teams?”

  “Huh?” Steve says, and then realizes what she meant. “Oh, no. Still me.”

  “Well, something’s going on.”

  “I’m going to call a crew meeting about this, but when we get back to Atlanta, it would be a good idea to start preparations for extended duty.”

  “How extended?” Annette says.

  “Five months.”

  “Cinque mesi?” Milo says. “We go on a five-month trip? Marone.”

  Annette looks at Steve. “We’re going to be away for five months? Is everyone going?”

  “Yeah.”

  Annette shrugs. “I’m okay with that.”

  “Milo?”

  “I never do such a long trip before. Sounds exciting, no?”

  “Oh, it’ll be . . . exciting,” Steve says nervously, but then switches back into Captain mode. “Okay, try not to speculate. I’ll fill everyone in after we land, I promise.”

  ***

  Since the boardroom meeting lasted until well into the descent into Atlanta, Steve has Harrison continue to fly the approach and landing. Besides, Steve’s head is swimming right now with what he has just been tasked to do.

  The Gillespie car service picks up Dev and Chaz and takes them home. The next couple of hours are spent by the whole crew in postflight, cleaning and readying the aircraft for the next departure, which could come at any time and with very little notice. They have no idea . . .

  The pilots take care of the cockpit and crew rest areas. The flight attendants split up their duties between staterooms, galleys, and social areas. Both galleys are scoured and polished. All staterooms are vacuumed and dusted, even the ones that were not used on the flight. As always, the airplane is left in showroom condition.

  Steve goes cabin by cabin, room by room, checking the final product. So far, he has never been disappointed. The plane always looks brand-new. More than tidiness, Steve is sensitive to plane smells. He stops in the lounge and sniffs a few times. Steve hates walking into an airplane and getting a whiff of something that shouldn’t be there. Whether it’s a food smell, lavatory odor, industrial cleaners, or his personal pet peeve, jet fuel. His rule, for any aircraft he’s flown, is that fueling personnel are never allowed on board. An aircraft cabin should never smell of jet fuel, and by virtue of their jobs, fuelers always did.

  Franz, Milo, and Annette always have the option of having a cleaning crew come in, but they won’t hear of it. They don’t want anyone doing anything that their names and reputations are attached to. It’s extra work, but they are happy to do it.

  The crew assembles comfortably in the lounge. Steve is the only one standing. He has an iPad and a checklist of items to cover for his bookkeeping. “All right, guys, great job, as always. Kudos to all from the boys. They are really happy with everyone.” Steve checks the iPad. “Let’s go down the list, and then we’ll go on to the new stuff. Main galley?”

  Franz answers. “Main galley is ready to go. Inventory is complete, and uploaded onto the crew iPads.” This is a recent innovation. Steve issued iPads to the entire crew to automatically update everyone, whether it is scheduling, inventory, flight plans, messages, linen rotation, breakage, even crew dining requests. “Frozen items are locked up in the freezer in the hangar. Perishables are ready to go home.”

  Steve ticks off a mark on his list. “Great. Upper galley?”

  This is Annette’s territory. “Upper galley is ready to go. I uploaded my shopping list, and I have no maintenance issues.”

  “Crew deck?"

  “Crew deck is-a tutto bene,” Milo says.

  Franz adds, “We’ll bring home the crew linens and launder
them in our machines, along with the napkins, tablecloths, and the stuff from the owner’s suite.”

  “Speaking of which, staterooms?”

  “All ready to go,” Annette reports. “I’d like to get a new orchid for the Owner’s Suite.”

  “Put it on the iPad, honey,” Franz says.

  “Already done.”

  “Lounge and library?”

  Milo responds to that one. “Is good, Capitano.”

  “Okay, Flight Deck?”

  Harrison takes this one. “Cleaned and ready to go.”

  “Listen,” Steve says, shaking his stylus at the pilots, “whoever was eating crackers up there. I don’t want to see crumbs in the control panels. And this goes for everyone, NO passing of liquids over the center console. One spilled cup of coffee and we’ll have about fifty thousand dollars in damage to electronics.”

  “Ha, chump change,” Jen says.

  “I’ll dock your pay for it,” Steve shoots back.

  “Understood,” Jen replies, not wanting to push it too far.

  “Okay, does anyone have any maintenance squawks?”

  “We could use engine oil,” Harrison reports.

  “Potable water is at three-quarters,” Franz adds. “But I’d like to have the tank flushed and refilled.”

  “Okay, noted,” Steve says, writing down the note with the stylus. “I’ll set up oil service before our next flight, and I’ll have the potable tank purged. Did the lavs get serviced?”

  “Lav tanks emptied and serviced,” Matt reports.

  “All right,” Steve says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We have some new business. But how about we finish the shutdown and talk about the new stuff over D & D at my place?”

  “Dinner and Debrief at the captain’s, everybody,” Jen announces.

  ***

  The perishables, packed up in several large coolers, are taken back to Steve’s condo, where he and Franz and Milo prepare dinner for the whole crew. The leftovers will go home with whoever wants them. Most of the perishables are vegetables, along with some shrimp, dairy products, breads, and cheeses used for the flight. They are transformed into a large baked pasta primavera this evening with grilled shrimp. Several bottles of wine that were opened on the trip, including a French Grave that Dev prefers, and a Malbec and Pinot Noir that Chaz likes, sit on the table.

  Jen smiles as she takes a healthy pull from her wineglass. “I have to tell you, I really like this recycling program we have here.”

  Time for new business.

  Steve puts down his fork and looks around the table. “Some of you may have heard we’re going out on extended duty.”

  Harrison glances at Annette. Milo glances at Franz.

  Jen notices the furtive looks. She frowns. “I guess I’m the only one who doesn’t know this.”

  “I don’t, either,” Matt says.

  Steve takes a deep breath. “We’re looking at a five-month trip.”

  “Five months?” Jen gasps.

  “That’s what I said.”

  Jen puts down her fork and is about to speak, but then says nothing.

  Franz looks at her. “Well, this is a first. Jen’s finally at a loss for words.”

  The crew breaks out in laughter.

  “Hey, shut up,” Jen shouts. “And pass the garlic bread.”

  Harrison passes Jen the bread basket. “This is delicious, by the way. Is that cheese in there?”

  “Gorgonzola and chèvre,” Franz answers.

  “So, five months,” Steve says. “Anyone have any thoughts on that?”

  “Five whole months,” Matt says. “That would put us back here in late summer.”

  “Five months is an estimate,” Steve says. “Could be longer. And then we move.”

  “Move where?” Annette says.

  “They finally decided on a place?” Harrison says, apparently unfazed by the length of the trip.

  “They did.”

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Jen says, halfway to snotty.

  “They decided on moving the whole operation to . . . ” Steve looks around the table. “Seattle.”

  “Yes!” Harrison yells with outstretched arms.

  Jen looks at Steve and shrugs. “I can handle Seattle.”

  “Anyone have any beef with that?” Steve says, surveying the table for dissenters. There are none.

  Harrison looks at Steve. “What are they going to be doing for five months?”

  “Their business is about to become a lot more . . . diversified.”

  Jen scowls. “That didn’t answer his question.”

  “I know that, Jen, but at this time, I can’t elaborate any further.” Steve doesn’t say anything else for about a minute so he can try to gauge what the group is thinking. No one is complaining. In fact, no one is saying a word as they digest the information. Harrison is just happy he gets to return to Seattle.

  Matt looks around and finally breaks the silence. “All my plants will die.” He smiles and then continues. “They were my ex-boyfriend’s. When we get back, I’ll send them to him all withered and dried up.”

  Steve chuckles. “Anyone have any other thoughts on being gone for half a year?”

  “Half a year is six months,” Jen points out.

  “The boys say five,” Steve replies. “I’m planning on six to be safe.”

  “Good idea, Boss,” Harrison says.

  Jen mimics Harrison in overly juvenile fake snottiness. “Good idea, Boss.”

  “Does anyone have a problem being gone that long?” Steve says. “I want to know now. Two weeks into this, I don’t want to hear you’ve got a wedding you can’t get out of, or you left the water running, or you suddenly need an appendectomy.”

  No one says anything.

  “How much lead time do we have?” Franz says.

  “Let’s talk about that,” Steve says. “How much time do you guys think you’ll need before you’re comfortably able to pack up and basically live on the plane?”

  “What about our mail and stuff?” Annette says.

  “Do you still pay your bills by paper?” Franz says.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, honey, we need to get you set up for electronic bill paying.” Franz pats her hand.

  “There’s something else,” Steve says.

  “Here it comes,” Jen says, folding her arms.

  Steve continues, “Due to the sensitive nature of this trip, we will be incommunicado.”

  “What do you mean?” Jen says.

  “I mean, no e-mail, no phone calls. No contact of any sort, with anyone.”

  “Why?” Jen says.

  “Because that’s the way they want it,” Steve says with an edge to his voice.

  “What about our bills?” Jen says.

  “The boys are going to cover all of our expenses for this trip.”

  “What? What do you mean?” Annette says.

  “Car payments, house payments, student loans, rent, whatever your bills, whatever your recurring expenses, the boys will cover everything.”

  The group is floored. Whoa, is the collective sentiment.

  “Who are these guys?” Matt says incredulously.

  “I still think they’re jewel thieves,” Jen says under her breath.

  “You’re new here, Matt,” Franz says. “They’ve always taken care of us. Even when we worked at the charter company.”

  “It’s true,” Annette says.

  “Guys,” Steve interjects, “this is a very big deal. Bigger than you can possibly imagine. They know that. They don’t want any of us stressing out over bills.”

  “How would they do that, exactly?” Harrison says.

  “We need to bring all our bills to their lawyer’s office here in Midtown. They’re going to take care of everything while we’re away. They’ll even water your plants, Mattsy.”

  “I like my idea better.” Matt smiles.

  “So we’re really going totally off the grid,” Jen says, revisiting that subje
ct. “Like, totally?”

  “Totally.”

  “That is so weird,” Jen grumbles.

  “We’ll also have to sign a new confidentiality agreement specific to this trip.”

  “Why?”

  “Jen!”

  “Sorry!” She pauses. “But we already signed one.”

  “It’s an acknowledgment that we agree to go dark.”

  ***

  The discussion continues, but after half an hour, Steve finally calls it. “All right, I need to officially ask. Who’s up for the adventure? Franz? Milo?”

  “We’re in,” Franz says.

  “Si, si, Capitano.”

  “Annette?”

  Annette glances at Harrison before responding. “I’m up for anything.”

  “Harrison?”

  “I’m in.” He takes Annette’s hand.

  “Jen?”

  She sighs. “What the hell, I’ve got nothing else going on.”

  “No,” Steve says scowling. “Let’s try this again . . . Jen?”

  She smiles and answers vibrantly this time. “Oh, yes! I’m all-in, Captain.”

  “Better.” Steve smiles back. “Matt?”

  “I’m so in.”

  “All right,” Steve says. “I’m in too.”

  Matt turns to Jen. “Sweetie, we’re going to find you a man, because you need some serious rack time to break through that grumpy exterior.”

  “Oh, ha-ha-ha,” Jen replies, then adds demurely, “You know any?”

  “We’ll work on it.”

  Franz takes the serving platter to the kitchen and prepares to make doggie bags. “Who wants leftover-leftovers?”

  “I do,” Jen says, and then adds sadly, “I can’t cook.”

  “Neither can Annette,” Harrison says, and gets a swift elbow to the ribs. “Sorry, my love, but you’re more of a defroster than a preparer.”

  Franz prepares doggie bags for Jen, Harrison, and Annette. Milo fixes one for Steve. Franz is not a fan of leftovers, so he and Milo don’t bring any home.

  The group pitches in to clear and do the dishes. A few minutes later, Steve puts the last of the silverware in the dishwasher and then looks at the group.

  “All right, my friends, since we’re all in, I can reveal the first leg of our journey is back to New Zealand.”

  “Cool!” Matt exclaims. “That was the best trip ever.”