by Gary Moreau
Jarmo’s face became even paler. “I am not amused. We have work to do here, Doctor Conklin. State your business or leave.”
“I’m here at Commander Slater’s behest.” Casey pulled the skull fragment from his waist pouch. “You are to determine the age of this artifact. That is my business and now it is yours.”
He held the skullcap out toward Jarmo, but Jarmo didn’t reach for it, instead he turned to one of his techs that was standing nearby. She touched her com-collar and spoke briefly into it. Casey could read the surprise in the woman’s face, even before she nodded to Jarmo.
Jarmo returned his gaze to Casey. “Put it on the counter.”
Casey continued holding the piece of bone in his outstretched hand. “Take it!”
Jarmo reached for the object. When he had it in his hand he inspected it and, with sudden recognition, looked up at Casey. “This looks like a piece of a skull,” he said, seeking confirmation, but Casey said nothing.
Jarmo tossed the skullcap onto a counter top; it clicked a few times before it rocked to stillness.
The disrespect, all be it unknowing, broke Casey’s resolve to be tolerant. Unchecked anger flared in him and boiled out of his mouth. “You pompous asshole! You hibernate in this dome twiddling your thumbs as you diddle each other and call it science. I’ll tell you this; if you find my presence disruptive to your precious stagnation, then you damn well better evaluate that bone fragment, because I’m going to come back here every day until you do. Do we have an understanding?”
Jarmo appeared unaffected by Casey’s tirade. “If you have nothing more to say, then I would suggest you leave.”
Casey felt like slapping a response out of the man but, instead, turned and stalked out of the dome into the purple light of early evening. Yamaguchi was standing at the base of the ramp. Casey walked past him and into the yard, filled with unspent anger. When he reached the center of the yard he was no longer angry, he was only tired. He had intended to go to the Chem-Dome and have the stasis crystals analyzed as well, but he no longer had the desire. He walked slowly toward the Main Dome, the light of its doorway irresistibly drawing him toward it like a moth to a flame.
Yamaguchi joined him and spoke, “What about the crystals?”
“That can wait,” Casey answered in a subdued voice.
Yamaguchi reached out and stopped him in mid-stride. “You may be able to postpone, but I cannot. For me, each day is a test. What is it that you want done with the crystals?”
Casey looked up him. Yamaguchi’s face was illuminated by the oblique light spilling from the nearby doorway, revealing the shadows of creases under his eyes and across his forehead. It was a picture of silent pain. Casey reached into his pouch and handed the third crystal to Yamaguchi.
“I need molecular thin slices and a topographic analysis of each of these crystals. The chem-techs have the equipment and the know-how. Be sure each crystal is carefully marked.”
Casey watched Yamaguchi as he walked off into the night; his black uniform made him seem to evaporate into the darkness. Casey turned back toward the Main Dome and walked up the ramp. He stopped just inside to survey the crowd. Small groups of colonists were scattered around the spacious interior, generally sitting at tables with others of the same color, eating, talking and laughing. Casey’s sense of isolation didn’t lessen; it grew.
His feet felt heavy as he walked over to the nutrition counter and picked up a tray. Usually he ate in the ship, but this night he needed to be with people, even if it was nothing more than the appearance of being with others. He saw Jon Brent, animated while he talked with Lisa Bouviet, who appeared to be studying her nails. They were both dressed in the green of an agri-tech. Casey looked down self-consciously at his whites. He kept to the perimeter of the room and moved slowly, as if he could avoid detection simply by wishing it, but one by one groups of colonists turned to watch him as he eased along. He kept his eyes directed at the floor, avoiding the malevolent stares.
Jon and Lisa looked up as Casey approached their table. Jon left his last sentence unfinished.
Casey put his tray quietly on the table and stood with his hands on the back of a chair. “Hello, Jon,” he said, and nodded a greeting to Lisa.
They both sat motionless, staring up at him.
“May I join you?” Casey added.
“Actually, we were about to leave,” Jon said and saw Casey glance at their plates of partially eaten food. His face flushed as he pushed back his chair and stood, but Lisa remained seated. “Lisa,” Jon said through tightly drawn lips, “it’s time we get back to the testing station.”
“I’ll be along shortly. You go ahead,” Lisa said without a sign of concern.
Jon remained standing where he was, hesitant to leave her, but unwilling to sacrifice what remained of his pride. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he muttered and shoved the chair against the table. He walked through the center of the dome to the exit without a backward glance.
Casey pulled out a chair and slid into it. “I hope I’m not going to cause trouble between Jon and you.”
“No, not in the least. Ever since I’ve been assigned to his agri-unit, he’s assumed that he and I belong to each other. I have to admit, at first I thought his childish adoration was cute, but lately he won’t leave me alone, even for a minute. I feel smothered. This will be a good lesson for him.” She took a bite of food and chewed it thoughtfully.
“Thank you, Lisa.”
“For what?”
“I think you know,” he said, and began eating. He ate a few bites in silence and then spoke again. “How is it that the chief com-tech is wearing green?”
She put down her spoon. “It doesn’t take much figuring. Veck and Slater are two of a kind. Can you imagine that blotchy faced Veck as chief?” Her hazel-green eyes were wide with incredulity, but then her eyes narrowed and she added, “That bitch. If she thinks she can get rid of me by ostracizing me to muck around in the dirt, with Jon Brent following me wherever I go and constantly staring at me with the eyes of a sick cow, she’s got another think coming.” Her full lips spread in a dazzling smile, totally contrary to the content of her words.
She took a bite of protein patty and chewed as she thought. She swallowed and met Casey’s eyes. “Actually, I think Slater is afraid of me. I think he’s afraid of women in general.” Casey said nothing, but Lisa rushed ahead to prove her point. “All you need to do is look at Veck. She’s more like a skinny teen-age boy than a mature woman. Or, take a look at his so-called assistants, not a woman in the group. I bet something happened to him when he was a kid. You may not know this, but his father was Roger Slater, the man who commanded the second mission to Mars. Maybe he acts the way he does because his father brought the Death to Earth. Maybe it’s some kind of a freaky guilt trip.” She paused and shook her head. “Naw, that’s not the Slater we’ve all come to know and love. Do you know anything about his mother? I seem to recall something about her committing suicide. Do you know anything about that? Something I could use against him?”
Casey was caught up in studying the smooth, youthful skin of her face and the play of her facial features while she spoke. He glanced down at the shiny skin of his hands, blemished by brown splotches, and slipped his hands beneath the edge of the table.
“Casey, are you listening to me?”
“What? Oh, yeah, sure I am.”
“Well?”
“Well what?” he answered.
“Well, for one, don’t you want to know how I’m going to rescue myself from the oblivion of the farm?”
She had his full attention now. “Yes, of course I do,” he said.
She leaned across the table and, in a soft conspiring voice, she whispered, “I’m going to publish a colony paper.” She leaned back, speaking out loud again, “Unlike Veck I consider communication a sharing of information, not a controlling of it.”
“I don’t want to sound like a pessimist,” Casey commented, “but wouldn't such a paper interf
ere with Slater’s grip on the community? And, if so, don't you think he’d object? And when I say object, I mean he’d let loose those black-suited mercenaries.”
“I’m sure he would. That’s why I have to do it in secret, at least until it gets established.”
Casey raised his eyebrows. “I wish you the best of luck. But why are you telling me about your plans?”
She laughed and the fullness of it made Casey feel like laughing too.
“To be honest, Casey, I’ve been wanting to talk with you because...well, I wanted to ask you if, maybe, I could use the computers and printers in the medical lab. There, I’ve said it.” Her startling green eyes with their long, dark lashes blinked, proclaiming her innocence.
“Why don’t you publish over the net?” Casey suggested.
“There’s plenty of paper piling up as a byproduct of recycling. No one is using it. And, besides, it’s too easy to track down the source if I use the net. I need anonymity, at least to start.”
Casey chuckled dryly. “I guess you thought my life couldn’t get much worse. Is that it?”
She looked hurt by the accusation, pouting her lower lip.
Casey continued. “You’re probably right. I’ll consider your proposition.”
She reached out and stroked his cheek. “Somehow, I just knew I could count on you. And, if we’re careful, which we will be, no one will find out how it’s being done, or who’s doing it, and by then it’ll be too late for anything to be done about it.”
When she withdrew her fingertips from his cheek, he could feel where she had caressed him. He resisted touching the spot with his own hand.
When Casey didn’t respond, Lisa continued. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“I’ll need to know more,” he said.
“Of course you do. Do you have some free time tomorrow? Perhaps later in the morning?”
Casey nodded, not trusting his voice.
“I’ve got to go now. I’ll stop by the ship tomorrow.”
She smiled with evident satisfaction and stood. As she walked past Casey she trailed her fingertips across his back. Casey turned to watch her long legs carry her through the dome, now nearly empty of colonists. She had such energy and youth in her gait. He watched until she passed through the door and into the night.
He sat for a while, playing with the remains of his food, but no longer had an appetite. He pushed himself to his feet, slowly overcoming the stiffness in his knees and back; it happened whenever he sat for any length of time. Usually he ignored it, but this night he felt old, even older than he really was.
When he walked toward the door, he saw Wheeler standing in a doorway at the rear of the reconstitution area and paused. Wheeler noticed that he was being observed and stepped back through the doorway to disappear from sight.
Casey was in no mood to pursue him. Let him remain a mystery. What was real? Perhaps he too should ignore the apparent inconsistencies. Perhaps they were only apparent. Maybe Slater was right after all. As was becoming his habit, he checked to make certain the blue disk was attached to his chest.
He walked across the dark yard toward the ramp of the ship. The ramp’s surface was a soft gray, illuminated by the light-sticks that lined its edges. He trudged up the ramp, entered the Storage Deck, and walked past the land-shaper to slide into the up-tube.
He exited on Deck Two. After examining and adjusting the equipment that contained the floating body of Klampor, he entered the lab and settled onto his pallet, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 18
The following morning Casey was jolted awake, as if his pallet had been kicked. Through blurry eyes and a foggy mind he recognized the smiling face of Padraig Glancy, dressed in medical guild white.
“I find your uniform a bit presumptuous,” Casey growled.
“You may as well get used to it. I’m here to stay. You haven’t forgotten your bargain with Commander Slater, have you?”
Reluctantly, Casey sat up, rubbing his eyes, and then climbed to his feet. “Wait here.”
He walked to the rear of the lab and opened his preservation chest. A few moments later he returned with a parcel. He showed it at Glancy, pushing it into his stomach, but there was no give to the man’s abdominal muscles.
Glancy smiled at the feeble attempt to cause him discomfort. He looked down at the object in Casey’s hands.
“And what do we have here?” Glancy asked cheerfully.
“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it. It’s called a book. Until it gets scanned into the computer, this is all we have. You do know how to read, don’t you?”
“You sure got up on the wrong side of the bed. So cranky.”
“It’s an anatomy text. I brought it with me as part of my personal allotment. Study it and, when you think you know it, perfectly, then come back and we’ll talk.”
Glancy took the book from Casey, but remained standing as he had been.
“Are you deaf?” Casey shouted. “What do you expect me to do, read it to you? Earn those whites! I won’t let you make a mockery of my profession.”
Glancy stood at attention and saluted. “Aye, aye, Sir.” He turned smartly, mocking Casey with each move, and marched through the portal and into the passageway.
Casey followed him out and watched him in exasperation until he was out of sight around the curve. When he turned to reenter the lab, his com-collar came to life.
“Attention, all colonists,” Jane Veck said in her stilted voice. “It has come to Commander Slater’s attention that equipment is being used for unauthorized purposes. We have neither the time nor the resources for such irresponsible waste. It cannot be condoned and will not be tolerated.”
When Casey heard the click-off, he immediately entered Veck’s code.
“This is Veck.”
“Jane, this is Casey. I had a deal with Slater. He agreed to support my efforts in my investigation. Are you telling me the deal is off?”
There was a pause, then Veck’s shrill voice returned. “Not at all, Doctor Conklin. Commander Slater has given his word that he’ll support any minor inconvenience, as long as you reciprocate.”
“Then what was that message about?”
“You heard it. It meant nothing less or more than was stated.” Veck broke off the connection.
Curious, Casey thought, but then shrugged it off. Instead of returning to the lab, he walked the passage to enter the treatment room and attend to Klampor, after which he went down to take up his morning lookout, perched at the top of the Storage Deck ramp.
He watched another sunny morning unfold. The grass was as green and lush as ever, not showing the usual wear that inevitably occurs around human habitation. He let his gaze wander about the settlement until he caught sight of a woman approaching from the perimeter. Even at that distance he recognized the voluptuous figure of Lisa Bouviet. Her presence brought to mind their conversation of the night before and a puzzle piece unexpectedly fell into place. He eased his aching bones up and, as rapidly as he could, made his way back to the medical suite.
He entered the lab and immediately released the catch on his com-collar to take it off. He felt naked without the collar. He, in fact all of them, had worn com-collars during their entire time at Copper Mountain.
He placed the collar on the counter and directed his attention to the jade-green crystal that Slater had installed in everyone’s collar. He attached it to a circuit analyzer and was almost surprised to have his suspicion confirmed. It was not a passive circuit as they had been told. It was fully functional and broadcasting. This could mean only one thing; Slater could monitor any conversation or, with computer assist, all conversations. Its functionality would be difficult to prove, but it was obviously true.
While Casey was considering the implications of his discovery, he heard the portal of the lab “swish” open. He turned and saw the well-manicured beauty of Lisa Bouviet. She was about to speak, but Casey brought his index finger up to his lips, indica
ting silence. She seemed amused, but obediently closed her mouth and raised a questioning eyebrow. Casey motioned for her to follow him over to the console where he tapped out a message on the temporary screen.
The text on the screen read: “Slater has bugged our com-collars. Jane Veck, or one of Slater’s men, is monitoring everything we say. I guess that’s what Jane means when she says she’s busy.”
Lisa’s hazel eyes opened wider and she mouthed a silent, “Are you sure?”
Casey nodded.
Lisa bent over to punch out her own message. The softness of her breast pressed against his shoulder and he breathed deeply of her body fragrance. He felt guilty and it brought heat to his cheeks. He forced himself to focus his attention on her message.
“This is perfect,” it read. “It’s just the leverage I’ve been searching for to protect myself,” and then belatedly added, “and you.”
She straightened and unlatched her collar. Casey was taken aback by the ease at which she was willing to expose her neck to him, but he held out his hand to receive the collar, still warm from the heat of her body. He put both their collars in a preservation chest, closed the latch, and then turned back to Lisa.
“What do you mean, this is just what you needed?” he asked.
“Up to this point, there has been no hot button issue for me to promote that would result in real support from the colonists, but once I publish the information about the com-collars, I’ll get all the backing I need. In fact, I predict I’ll be able to publish the paper in an ongoing fashion, with impunity.” She paused as she considered, and then asked, “Are you sure about the collar?”
Casey reflected a moment, considering the consequences; they didn’t seem quite as rosy for him. “Yes, I’m sure,” he finally said.
Lisa nodded. “It makes sense. Among other things, it explains that bogus general communication this morning. I stopped by the Mitchell-Friedriche farm on my way in this morning and they never even heard it. It must have been directed at a select few. You heard it, I assume?”