The Nightshade Problem: Sol Space Volume Two

by James Wilks

  They sat silently as the footsteps neared, and then Brutus appeared at the entrance. He paused there for a moment as he surveyed the two of them, his head tilted to the side. “Mr. Templeton, Ms. Schilling, good afternoon. Am I interrupting something?”

  “Just having a snack,” Evelyn responded, her spoon held lightly in her hand. The empty container sat in front of her on the table.

  “I see,” Brutus replied. “I do not wish to interrupt. I will return later.”

  He turned to go, but Templeton swallowed his mouthful of food. “Oh, come on. Have a seat.” He gestured to a bench a meter from the two of them. Brutus regarded him with his camera-eyes, but did not move. Templeton continued, “If you want us to believe you just ran into us, you’ll have to do it somewhere other than the mess hall. You came to talk, so talk.” He went back to his meal, seemingly indifferent as to whether the automaton would actually take his advice.

  “Very well,” Brutus crossed to the bench Templeton had indicated and sat down. “I must confess; I did come to talk.”

  “Just to us, or would anyone do?” Templeton asked without looking up. Evelyn gazed back and forth at the two as they spoke.

  “I was looking for you specifically, Mr. Templeton.”

  He grunted. “Why me?”

  “You and I had a conversation when I first… came aboard. About the existence of God. I was hoping to continue that conversation.”

  “Don’t waste time, do you?” Templeton said around a forkful of potatoes.

  “As a rule, no, I do not.”

  “Well, you can’t just jump into something like that. It has to evolve naturally in a conversation.” Templeton’s voice had the tenor of a mentor dispensing advice to a pupil.

  “Would you prefer a preamble?” Brutus’ tinny voice was touched with sarcasm.

  “You have one ready?” Another forkful of potatoes found its way home.

  “In point of fact, I do.” The robotic form placed both of its hands on the table and leaned forward, extending its head forward eagerly. The effect was of ironic enthusiasm. “You see, Mr. Templeton, as a robot, I require proof for all things. Now, in looking over human history, few things have been as consistent as the belief in a higher power. This belief is pervasive, though obviously diminished in the past few hundred years. Yet there is no concrete proof. In Christianity, the Bible is offered as proof of the existence of God, and yet, the only proof that the Bible itself can be taken at face value is the belief that it is a true accounting of God. The Bible proves God, and God proves the Bible. This is circular logic, and I cannot compute it.” Brutus’ voice took on a particularly false robotic cadence as he said the last sentence.

  Templeton dropped his fork into his dinner and looked at Brutus for a long moment. “If we’re going to do this, we need to drop the sarcasm. Agreed?”

  Brutus sat up, his head pitched to the left. “Happily.”

  “All right then.” Templeton took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing about proof, since you asked. God, religion in general, isn’t based on proof. It’s based on faith. How would you define faith?”

  “There is a bevy of definitions of the word faith, but I suppose in this case it would be belief without evidence.”

  Templeton put up a correcting finger. “Belief without proof. Fair?”

  “Fair,” Brutus replied. Evelyn folded her hands under her chin and watched the two silently.

  “So do you have faith in gravity?” the first mate asked.

  “No. I know it exists. There is proof.” Brutus replied.

  “Exactly. If God, whoever’s god, wanted us to know that He exists, it’d be easy for Him to do so. People who look for proof for God have got it all wrong. It’s a test of faith. There’s no test in believing in God if there’s proof. In fact, once you prove the existence of God, you might as well throw faith out the window.”

  “I see,” Brutus seemed to think for a moment, looking down at the table. “And without faith, there is no journey, no search for answers. One does not learn about them self as they search for the truth of gravity; they simply accept it as a matter of course, much like the sun or other material objects, and move on. There is no mystery.”

  “Exactly,” Templeton said again, his eyes intent on the automaton. “If God really wanted there to be proof, there would be proof. Clear, incontrovertible, one hundred percent certainty. The fact that there is no proof means that He wants us to search. He wants us to believe.”

  “The test of faith,” Brutus said. He returned Templeton’s gaze. “Of course, there is another way to view faith. Humanity derides images of primitive humans worshiping the sun, or cats, or fire, or other objects that are certainly not only not divine but quite indifferent to their veneration. Is the modern concept of an abstract, universe-shaping intelligence any different?”

  Templeton shrugged. “Not really, but that’s faith. Acknowledge that some people think you’re a fool, maybe even accept that you might be a fool, offering Sundays to a phantom of your imagination just like some fire-worshiper throwing meat he needs in the flames. Acknowledge that and believe anyway. Anyone who tries to prove the existence of God is missing the point, and probably insulting Him in the process.”

  “You know,” Evelyn interjected, and they both looked at her, “there is an option C.”

  Templeton’s eyes flicked to Brutus, then back to her. “I don’t see how. God either exists or he doesn’t. I don’t think there can be an in between.”

  “What if God’s existence is irrelevant?” Evelyn challenged.

  “Agnosticism,” Brutus said.

  “Being undecided isn’t an in between of God existing or not. That’s not about God’s existence, it’s about your belief in him,” Templeton’s tone was somewhat aggressive, but Evelyn was undeterred.

  “Maybe, but hear me out. You know there’s this part in the Bible where Jesus shares his lunch with the disciples and through a miracle of faith five thousand people are fed.”

  Templeton nodded, and Brutus said, “Matthew 14.”

  She glanced at Brutus quickly and said, “Sure. Anyway, the way I see it, there are two ways to view that: literally or figuratively. Either God violated the conservation of matter in the universe to feed people, or-”

  “Some people had brought their lunches, and they took Jesus’ example and shared their lunches around. You’re not the first one to read it that way,” the first mate challenged her.

  “Okay, right, but think about this. Which explanation is more impressive?”

  Brutus drew back from the table, contemplative.

  “I want to say the magical one, but I’m sensing a trap here,” Templeton said warily.

  “Wise you are, old man,” she smiled. “When God performs miracles, it’s not impressive because it takes no effort on the part of an omnipotent being. He wills it, and it is so.”

  “But humans,” Brutus picked up the thought, “get hungry.”

  “Yes, they do. They’re greedy and selfish and there are parts of their brains that tell them to horde and even kill to feed themselves. So when they go hungry to feed strangers, that’s impressive,” she continued.

  Brutus nodded. “Humanity is far more interesting, and ultimately, more capable of generosity and sacrifice than God because we – they can suffer.”

  “Right. People who cannot give of themselves cannot be good. And I don’t necessarily mean some self-sacrificing concept of martyrdom. I mean the time and energy we have to dedicate. If someone spends their life inventing a new engine, then that’s impressive because they took the time to do it, and their time is limited. If God exists, he doesn’t need us. But we need each other. So as far as I’m concerned, the existence of God is irrelevant. It’s pretty clear that we’re on our own, and anyway, we’re a far more worthy investment of time and energy.”

  “I-” Templeton began, but then he stopped. “I guess you’ve got a point. I gotta think about that.”

  “Very interesting,” Brutus agree
d.

  “But-” Templeton held up his dirty fork, “-even if God doesn’t need a thing from us, that doesn’t negate the millions of people who gain peace and guidance from their faith. We might be on our own when it comes to feeding ourselves, but why do we keep bothering? For some people, that’s a matter of faith, and you can’t take that from them.”

  “I’m not trying to. I’m just explaining why my relationship with God is like the best relationship with your landlord: no relationship.” In the moment of silence that stretched, Evelyn regarded both of them, then stood up. “Well, this has been fun, but I think I need to go ask the captain if I can play god with your computers.” She dropped her container in the recycle bin, placed her dirty spoon in the magnetic washing machine, and walked out of the room.

  “I must go as well,” Brutus said quickly, and a few seconds later he was gone as well.

  Don Templeton sat with his mostly eaten dinner for a long time.

  Chapter 12

  “We’re coming up on it, Captain,” Charis said as Staples entered the cockpit. Brutus and Bethany were at their coms and pilot’s consoles respectively.

  Staples took her new seat and then wriggled slightly to get comfortable. “How far out are we?

  Charis turned around to face her. “Seventy-two minutes.” The captain was immediately struck by her haggard appearance. The navigator looked exhausted; the bags under her bloodshot eyes, her shaky hands, and her frizzy hair and unkempt appearance all pointed to a severe lack of sleep.

  “When was the last time you got some sleep, Charis?” Staples asked, real concern in her voice.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” Charis said dismissively, but she looked away and let her hair fall in her face a little bit. It was a motion that would have been far more characteristic of Bethany, who was sitting beside her.

  “She’s been up here all day, Captain,” the petite pilot said in a voice so quiet that Staples had to lean forward to hear it.

  “Well, that settles it. It’s after dinner time. Bethany can take it from here. Go spend time with your family and get some rest.” Staples tried not to make it sound like an order.

  “Traitor,” Charis mumbled without ire to Bethany, and reluctantly she left the cockpit.

  After she left, Brutus spoke up. “Captain, I believe that we should move very cautiously. Victor might have anticipated our interest in AR-559. We should make several revolutions to be sure that there are no more Nightshade vessels lying in wait for us.”

  “Okay, but let’s do it quickly. It’s just as possible that we’re being followed or a ship is on its way here, and I don’t want to run in circles like an injured duck waiting for Victor to hit us.”

  Two hours later, they had completed two rapid circuits of the asteroid. Dinah was in the cockpit at the tactical station and had spent the last hour scanning for targets. There was a large amount of debris in the area, the result of the destruction of Dinah’s old ship, but she had found no trace of a hidden vessel. Brutus was manning the coms station, and he had been pinging the surrounding asteroid field for long range contacts. He couldn’t be sure because there were so many objects made of rock and ore surrounding them, but he found nothing that suggested a ship.

  “So if they’re out there, they’re made of rock,” Templeton said.

  “Or hiding behind one, sir,” Dinah added.

  “Or in one, I suppose,” Staples said, “but it can’t be helped. The opportunity is just too good to pass up.” She contemplated the situation for a moment more, then said, “Bethany, take us in.”

  The pilot did not respond verbally, but they all felt the push as the engines fired and Gringolet inched closer to the station. It was visible now, a larger, slowly rotating chunk of rock peppered with collision craters. The dim light from Sol illuminated some of the features of the base, including a fractured observation dome and the remains of a docking port. Attached to the latter was the carcass of K Squad’s ship.

  The interceptor had been much smaller and sleeker than the ship they now occupied. It was difficult to tell from the section that remained fastened to the asteroid like a giant railroad spike, but the ship had likely been a quarter of the size of Gringolet. It would have had sparse quarters, few amenities, and a powerful engine. Smaller and lighter ships were easier to accelerate and harder to spot from a distance. When objects were often thousands or even millions of kilometers apart from one another as they were in space, the concept of surprise was often difficult to achieve. This burned out hulk had been SSPOD’s best attempt, and even from the little that remained, Staples could tell that it was a nasty piece of war machinery, one designed to deliver death quickly and quietly.

  She considered asking Dinah if there would be anything on it that could be salvaged, but one look at the engineer silenced her. Under normal circumstances, Dinah Hazra was a far cry from emotive, but at the moment even a stranger would have recognized the tension in her face. Her nostrils flared in response to her deep and accelerated breathing, and a vein throbbed at her throat.

  The cockpit grew eerily quiet as the ship drew closer and more details of the base were visible. The metal slats radiating straight out in two different directions that had been dug into the asteroid were ceilings of submerged hallways that led deeper into the base; as they inched closer still, they could see these were inset with skylights. Bethany kept the ship on a lateral movement so as to match the spin of the asteroid, and the nose was getting closer to what Staples now realized was a mass and frozen graveyard. Suddenly she didn’t want to be here at all, and the idea of sending her people into AR-559 felt like plundering an Egyptian tomb under a pyramid. It was disrespectful and wrong; she didn’t know how many bodies the base contained, but from Dinah’s story, she guessed it was dozens.

  “I’m not sure we should be here,” Templeton said, echoing Staples’ thoughts.

  “Sir,” Dinah spoke without taking her eyes off the approaching image of destruction in front of them. “Victor killed everyone in that station. I don’t want to go in there, but I also can’t think of a better reason to disturb that place than to find some weapon against him. If,” she finally dragged her eyes away from the window and looked at Brutus, who was himself transfixed by the frozen carnage, “you’re sure you can find what you need in there.”

  Brutus rotated his chair and faced Dinah fully before replying. “I am not sure, and I cannot promise anything, but it is my great hope that I can. If it is still as you say you left it, then I am quite optimistic that some of the data will be intact.”

  “Should we…” Bethany’s voice was high and hesitant. “…do something for them?”

  Staples was about to reply, but Dinah spoke first. “No.”

  “Dinah’s right,” Staples agreed. “We can’t handle that right now. We’re not really equipped to take on and store bodies, and tracking down and notifying families… it’s just not possible.”

  “But when this is all over,” Templeton said, “We can lead someone here and they can take them home. Their families should know.” He clenched his jaw as he finished speaking, and Staples thought that he was thinking about his own sons. If the bullet that hit him and saved her had been an inch to the left, it would have been her job to notify those boys. She had never even met them, though she had seen pictures. The pain of having that conversation paled when weighed against the idea of losing her friend, but she was glad she didn’t need to do it all the same.

  “You’d better go get ready,” Staples said to Dinah and Brutus.

  Fifteen minutes later the depressurized shuttle bay on Gringolet opened, and three EVA-suited figures walked to the edge of the platform on magnetized boots. Kojo Jang, Carl Overton, and Evelyn Schilling were tethered to the ship, and they each looked down at the ruined wreck of the interceptor and the subterranean hallways. A moment later, the robotic form of Brutus walked up next to them.

  “We should enter there.” Brutus pointed to the ruptured observation dome. Though he wore no space suit, the aut
omaton form was capable of short wave radio transmission, and he had patched into the same channel that the coms system used to coordinate EVA missions. His voice came through each of their helmets as though he were standing next to them in the ship, and Evelyn thought that it was uncanny that radio lent his voice no more of a mechanical timbre than it usually carried.

  Jang looked at Brutus, then nodded. Though they did not match in color or design, each of the EVA suits was currently fitted with a jetpack to enable extra-vehicular movement. The asteroid was nowhere near large enough to generate a gravitational field, and so while they might have felt that the base was below them, jumping would just result in them floating loose in space.

  Evelyn had the least experience of the three with EVA actions. She had been in a suit only twice before, and she had described the situations as “touristy at best.” Despite this, as a computer engineer, she was the most obvious choice to help Brutus in his search for the data they needed. She had plainly been frightened when she agreed to join them, but she had also been insistent. Overton reached over to her, patted her on the shoulder, and then clipped himself to her belt to help her maneuver over to the remains of the observation room.

  “Ready up there, Captain?” Jang asked.

  “We’re ready,” Staples’ voice came through their helmets. “Bethany will keep us right here. If you need us, just call.”

  Evelyn felt comforted hearing her say it, but she knew there wasn’t much they could do to assist if they got into trouble. They had brought rifles; why, they hadn’t been entirely sure, but it seemed unwise not to.

  “Going then,” Jang said, and he turned off the magnets in his boots and unclipped his tether. The result was not dramatic; he simply floated away from the platform, but it made Evelyn’s stomach drop anyway. A moment later he tapped the controls at his hands and began moving away from the others and over to their planned area of ingress.