by Gary Moreau
“I gather you’re referring to the directive on the proper use of equipment.”
She nodded with a smile.
“I heard it. It’s what tipped me off, that and seeing you. I guess Jane must have been up late last night and heard everything we had to say.”
“She already knows what I think about her,” Lisa said lightly, without a hint of misgiving.
“It also means one of Slater’s men will be dropping in on us at any moment. I hate to say this, Lisa, but I can’t go through with it. I can’t risk another beating.”
She leaned toward him, pressing her breasts against his chest and kissed him on the lips. “I understand,” she said.
Tears came to Casey’s eyes. He tried to hide them, but Lisa turned his face back to her and wiped away the tears with soft fingertips.
Casey cleared his throat so he could speak. “Britty…I mean, Lisa, you’ll support me if Slater threatens me?”
She held his face between her warm hands. “Of course I will, dear.”
“Come back this evening,” he said. “There’s plenty of paper. You do know how to use the equipment, don’t you?”
She stepped back and rewarded him with a charming smile on her beautiful face. “I can manage. Remember, I was supposed to be chief of the communication guild, that is, before Slater gave the position to Veck and sent me to the farm.”
“Okay. I’ll keep their attention occupied elsewhere. In the meantime, we better put our collars back on and fill Jane’s big ears with a little smoke.”
Lisa nodded and her lips pursed as her mind raced along, making plans.
When they had their collars in place, Casey spoke. “Lisa, welcome. I was expecting you.”
“Good morning, Casey. I’m ready to get to work.”
“Just a minute. Didn’t you hear that communication this morning?”
“Yes, but come on, it’s only a little newspaper. What harm could that cause?”
“No way. Unless Slater approves it, I’m afraid it’s just not worth the risk. He’s been fair and even generous in his recent dealings with me.” When Casey said that he mimed sticking his finger down to his throat, as if to gag himself.
Lisa suppressed a giggle and then put on a long face. “I’m very disappointed in you. I had expected you to have more courage. Is there anything I can do to make you reconsider?” she asked seductively.
Casey leered at her and nodded his head vigorously. It was done as a joke but, on a more honest level, it wasn’t. Verbally he said, “No, I’m afraid not. My mind is made up.”
“All right, Casey, but think it over. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
With that she bowed and, with a beaming smile, passed through the portal and hurried down the passageway, nearly bumping into Sten Olson, who was approaching from the opposite direction. She excused herself and continued down the corridor to slip into the down-tube. Olson’s ice-blue eyes watched her until she was gone.
As evening approached, Casey wandered out of the ship and strolled over to the Geo-Dome. He paused at the base of the ramp and tried to appear undecided, letting his gaze wander aimlessly about the compound. After a moment, his searching eyes were successful. He spotted a figure standing beside the base of the ship. From his size and the way the light lit his head, it could be none other than the bristle-haired Olson, Casey’s escort for the evening.
Casey walked up the ramp and into the dome. Jarmo Karna approached him at once, his back straight and rigid.
“Good evening, Jarmo. Did you have an opportunity to complete that little job I left for you?”
Jarmo reached into a nearby drawer, retrieved the skull fragment, and handed it to Casey who slipped it into his waist pouch. Jarmo's lips were downturned and his nose was wrinkled, as if Casey was not only malodorous, but his appearance was distasteful as well.
When Jarmo spoke, his voice was tight. “Why did you bring a fossil with you if you didn’t know its age? This is an outrage. An inexcusable waste of time and resources.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know very well what I mean. Get out of here before I report this poor excuse for a practical joke to Commander Slater.”
He turned to walk away, but Casey reached out and touched his arm. Jarmo paused and, with evident disgust, his eyes focused on Casey’s face. He looked as if he was about to spit. Casey let his arm fall to his side.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you found,” Casey said.
“Very well, if it’ll make you leave. As you well know, this skull fragment is approximately two thousand years old. Our business is concluded.” He presented his back to Casey and walked toward a group of techs that had been watching the exchange from the center of the dome.
Casey felt so many conflicting emotions that he was momentarily immobilized. “How certain are you? Could it be a mistake?”
Jarmo turned and shouted, “My only mistake was allowing you into the Geo-Dome! Our business is through! Get out!”
Casey stumbled out of the dome, into the cool of early evening and the quiet of wind brushing across grass. He didn’t remember walking toward the Chem-Dome, but soon found himself at the entryway. “Two thousand years.” The words just wouldn’t digest. How was it possible? Accelerated aging?
While he was standing there, Neomi Lung exited the dome. When she saw him, she took two quick steps back.
Casey recognized her as well. “Neomi, I’ve come to get the micrographs you were to prepare. Are they ready?”
She nodded and, backing up, re-entered the dome. In a moment, she returned with a small packet of micrographs and a bag containing the crystals. Wordless, she handed them to Casey. As he slipped the micrographs and crystals into his pouch, he studied her: cropped, black hair; flat, broad nose; and her eyes. Her eyes were moving about as if to detect the slightest movement. He saw fear. She was actually trembling. He turned away and descended the ramp.
What could he possibly say or do that would change their feelings about him, he wondered as he approached the ship, and then remembered he had agreed to decoy Slater’s attention away from the medical suite. Light was flooding out of the doorway of the Main Dome and he headed toward it, without enthusiasm. The dome was crowded with colonists, but when he walked toward the nutrition counter a space opened for him, like a bubble rising through water.
He made his way to an empty table at the rear of the dome, ignoring the muttered comments aimed at him, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. He sat with his back to the room and stared at the white wall that arched upward and then out of sight over his head. He let his food grow cold without touching it. He wished Yamaguchi was with him; though Yamaguchi rarely spoke, they at least exchanged ideas, at times anyway. He continued to sit and the evening crawled slowly along, until he detected a significantly lower volume of conversation. He twisted in his seat to take a look. There were only a few colonists left in the dome.
He placed his palms on the table and pushed himself to his feet. He walked by the recycling bin, dumped the untouched contents of his tray, and then walked out into the dark of the yard and searched for Sten. He didn’t see him, so he continued toward the ship. He hoped he had given Lisa enough time.
The ramp and Storage Deck were empty. Few of the colonists lived on the ship anymore; most lived in personal domes scattered about in the rear area, near their primary domes, as if the domes were an affliction and spreading but, to Casey, the ship was home. Perhaps it was the many years that he had spent in it, more years in fact than he had lived on Earth.
First he checked Tabor and the regeneration unit, both were doing better. Then, although reluctant and apprehensive, he entered the lab. He was relieved when he saw that it was empty. When he glanced over at the console, he saw a sheet of hard copy. It had something written on it by hand in flowing and looping lines. He stared at it for a moment before he recognized what it was; it was cursive script, used when people used to write things out by hand, an affectati
on that didn’t surprise him.
Casey sat in the chair near the printer and was increasingly irritated while he deciphered the message. Finally, he was able to make out the words: “Thanks, Casey. It turned out great, if I do say so myself. You get the first copy. You’ve been a dear.” It was signed “Lisa”. It had hardly been worth the effort.
He turned the paper over and in bold letters across the top it proudly proclaimed, “EDEN GAZETTE”. The text consisted of one article, an editorial and news story rolled into one. The article described how the com-collars had been converted from lifelines into spying ears and concluded with the suggestion that there was a need for freedom of communication and that privacy was an inalienable right of all, but the body of the article also contained conciliatory statements directed at Slater. The gist of it was that Slater had done a good job, and that the colony did need a strong leader but, as in all governments, some rights had to be reserved for the people who were being governed.
After he had read the sheet, he laid it down and leaned back to stare at the overhead light-lines. He was disappointed by the mild tone Lisa had taken over the outrageous invasion of privacy that Slater had perpetrated, but he could understand her motivation. She wanted to make the paper as palatable as possible for Slater. She didn’t want to push him into a corner without a face saving exit. After all, he did control the mercenaries, regardless of public opinion.
Casey reviewed in his mind Slater’s “fete accompli”. Slater seemed to have had access to a hidden agenda, while the colonists had merely been fed a plausible agenda. The presence of the mercenaries meant that the end result would’ve been the same whether the tragedy of the deaths had occurred or not. It was disconcerting to think that the World Space Agency had acted in such a unilateral and underhanded fashion, but the proof was hard to ignore. The probable architect of this dictatorship was Mitchell Mason. Even though Mason was undoubtedly dead, long dead if Jarmo’s dating of Grace’s skull bone was accurate, his conspiracy lived on and there was little he or anyone else could do about it.
He had to learn to live with reality, as onerous as it was. He walked over to his pallet to lie down. He tried to go to sleep, but it didn’t come easily. Worries about the next day swirled through his mind. He hoped Lisa had been sincere when she said she would protect him, should worse come to worse. He had been careful. Slater would never discover his involvement, he told himself.
Chapter 19
The following morning, after attending to Klampor, Casey rushed down to his usual spot at the top of the ramp. He’d been sitting there for only a few minutes when he saw a contingent of grim faced comp-techs marching toward the ship, their drab gray uniforms reinforcing the overall impression of grave determination. Aleksandr Protonov strode in the forefront, with his sharp, black beard pointed toward the ship like the tip of an arrow. He was carrying a rolled sheet of paper in his fist, like a club.
They took no notice of Casey as they marched up the ramp and into the ship. Casey stood as rapidly as his stiff legs would allow and followed after them. By then they had disappeared into the up-tube, but there was little doubt of their destination. Casey exited the up-tube to find the squad of comp-techs gathered around the entrance to Slater’s cubicle, being confronted by the improbable hulk that was Yamaguchi.
Protonov’s voice was raised in anger. “I demand to see Commander Slater and I mean now! Get out of my way, you mute gorilla!” Though Protonov was no small man in his own right, compared to Yamaguchi he was insignificant.
Protonov’s normally pale complexion was fiery red. “I know you can hear me, Slater! I’m warning you, get out here, and get out here now!”
While he was still yelling, the portal opened and Slater stepped out. He walked around Yamaguchi and smiled. “Chief Protonov, what an unexpected surprise. Is there a problem?”
“Unexpected my eye! You know damn well why I’m here! You can play your silly game of innocent ignorance with the others, but don’t try it with me.” He shoved the rolled paper at Slater.
Apparently Slater hadn’t seen a copy yet. His eyes flicked back and forth as he quickly skimmed the article. His jaw muscles bulged and his lips pressed together. Even before he had finished reading, Protonov spoke again.
“Spying and the loss of personal privacy are intolerable. It is a despicable act. In Russia, there is a strong prohibition against spying. It is strictly proscribed, criminal! It’s worse than murder. It is murder!” For emphasis he detached his collar, slammed it onto the deck, and ground it under his heal until it “hissed” and “popped’ and released a tendril of blue smoke from under his boot. As if that was a signal, all the comp-techs dashed their collars to the deck and crushed them so that it sounded like popcorn, and filled the room with the acrid odor of fused circuitry.
Slater’s eyes were now a bit wider and shifting back and forth, searching for a response.
Protonov continued. “Don’t even try to deny it. We’re not gullible agri-techs. It took only a few minutes to verify that the new crystal was a broadcast unit.”
Casey smiled until he felt his cheeks were being stretched out of shape.
Slater appeared ashen under the heat of Protonov’s self-righteous indignation. His upper lip and forehead glistened with the sheen of perspiration. Finally, he found his voice.
“Brother Aleksandr, please come into my office so we can discuss this unfortunate misunderstanding.” His voice sounded small.
“If you have anything to say, say it now,” Protonov ordered.
“Certainly I have something to say,” Slater said. Yamaguchi provided a still and silent backdrop to Slater’s moving hands and shifting weight. “You have to understand my position. I’m sure you’re aware there are dissidents among the colonists that I had to monitor. Surely you don’t think I was gathering intelligence on loyal supporters such as yourself.”
Casey couldn’t see Protonov’s face, but from his rigidly upright posture, hands planted firmly on his hips, it didn’t appear that Slater’s explanation had much of a salutary impact. It was pure pleasure to Casey, the most enjoyable moment he could recall since planet-fall.
“This is a warning,” Protonov declared with a growl. “Your one and only warning. If we detect any further evidence of spying, you may consider the dome of the comp-techs a house of dissidents.” Slater tried to speak, but Protonov brushed away the effort and continued, “This is not an empty threat. We’ve had to continually rebuild the computer hardware since the Awakening. If you think you can manage without your computers, then ignore this warning. Furthermore, I intend to invite colonist Bouviet to join my section. You can expect a regular publication of this paper and if you dare harass any of my people, you’ll find out what computer wipe really means!”
As Slater tried to reassure Protonov, the comp-chief turned his back on him and marched with the other comp-techs to the down-tube to disappear, one by one. Casey slid farther into the recess between two cryo-capsules in the hall of sleep. This was no time to be noticed by Slater, with his anger and frustration crying out for a target.
From his hiding place Casey continued to watch. Abruptly, Slater turned to Yamaguchi, snapped a brusque order and re-entered his suite. Casey remained perfectly still, crouched in a crevice between two capsules, quieting even his breathing, but in a moment Yamaguchi was standing over him.
“Commander Slater wishes to speak with you,” Yamaguchi rumbled.
“I suppose he does, but can’t we delay it for a while, until he can get things into a better perspective?”
In answer Yamaguchi reached down and pulled Casey into the passageway. He began walking steadily across the bridge toward Slater’s suite, effortlessly pulling Casey along.
Desperation stimulated Casey’s mind. “Just a minute, I have some information that will interest you.”
Yamaguchi released his grip and turned to face him.
Casey continued while he rubbed the circulation back into his arm. “We need to go to the medical sui
te.” He started walking toward the down-tube, half-expecting to be jerked back toward Slater’s office, but dropped into the tube unmolested.
When they arrived on Deck Two, Casey first inspected the regeneration tank and then, finding Klampor's condition stable, walked with Yamaguchi down the passage to the lab. He went over to the counter and with exaggerated care picked up each micrograph in turn, held it carefully between his index finger and thumb, and then carefully replaced it on the counter. He glanced over at Yamaguchi, who stood stolidly by the portal, unimpressed by his theatrics. He shrugged, picked up the micrographs again and tossed them on the work counter next to the stereo-magnifier. He slid the first micrograph into place and the molecular field jumped onto the screen.
Casey could make no sense of it. In a way Slater had been right. He had not spent all those years idly awaiting midpoint, but he had not studied computers; he had studied cryo-stasis. The matrix of the crystal was in such disarray that at first he was unable to get his bearings. Then he recognized what had happened; the heavy metal molecules had migrated out of the crystal lattice in an apparently random fashion. He slipped in a second micrograph, and then one after another, until he had studied them all.
He rubbed his eyes and then sat back while he considered the implications. All the crystals showed the same deterioration. The wonder was that any of the crew had survived. Even that short hop from orbit had been extremely risky. He shuddered as he thought once again about the dead colonists. It had all been a matter of chance; if the random distortion of the crystal allowed a short circuit through the lattice, then they were exposed to the unfiltered energy of the star engine, vaporizing in a flash.
Casey considered what he knew about the crystals. No such changes had been detected during the years of testing. There had not even been a suggestion of such entropy. Perhaps they hadn’t been tested long enough. Perhaps if they had been tested, say for a few thousand years…. Casey felt cold. Jarmo had not been wrong. He sat silent and still, until he had stretched even Yamaguchi’s patience. Yamaguchi walked over and touched his shoulder.