The Pinnacle

by Gary Moreau

  When Glancy arrived at the top of the ramp, he turned with Casey to survey the colony. Then he looked upward, toward the mid-afternoon sun, set in a blue sky with its usual clumps of cumuli. Casey looked closely at his handsome protégé’s face and noted that his pupils were large and black. Strange, thought Casey, but nearly before the thought was fully formed, Glancy’s pupils were small. It wasn’t as if they had constricted, first they were big, and then they weren’t.

  “Padrig, why do you think the grass stays so green when there is never any rain?”

  Glancy gave Casey a double take before he responded. “What do I look like? Like I’m wearing agri-green or something? I’m a medical man, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Not yet, you aren’t,” Casey responded, and then walked back into the ship.

  Glancy scowled as he watched the older man hobble stiff-legged toward the up-tube and flipped an obscene hand gesture at his retreating back.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning Glancy failed to appear at his usual time, which suited Casey just fine. It was the first day he could recall since awakening that he felt reasonably well and had no pressing responsibilities. He decided to make a holiday out of it.

  He packed a lunch and put his puppy in his waist pouch. He was going to see the ocean and explore the seashore. When he walked out of the camp of clustered domes, he was excited and energetic. He felt younger.

  He had covered no more than a kilometer, when he saw the unmistakable bulk of Yamaguchi standing ahead of him, waiting. The nearer Casey got, the more obvious were the changes in the normally stoic figure; his head was bowed slightly and he looked out of the top of his eyes at Casey, like a bull about to charge. Yamaguchi’s hands were not still; he was rubbing them constantly on his thighs.

  Casey stopped well out of reach, not trusting to the man’s history of equanimity. Yamaguchi frightened him as much as any man he had ever seen. It seemed at any moment Yamaguchi was going to lose control and not be able to regain it again. The two men stood facing one another.

  “Good morning, Yamaguchi. I was just on my way to visit the seashore. Would you care to join me?”

  Yamaguchi’s eyes flicked shut for a moment and then back open. It looked to Casey like he hadn’t even heard him, almost as if he were barely aware that Casey was there at all. Then he spoke, causing Casey to jump.

  “Go back.”

  Against Casey’s better judgment, he decided to object. “This is ridiculous. Let’s reason this out. We’ve been on this planet for months and no one has been more than five kilometers from the ship. You said your primary duty was to observe and question. How can you expect to do that if you keep your back turned to the world around you?”

  Yamaguchi’s dark eyes came to bear on him and, when the giant stepped forward, his face seemed to bulge with insipient violence. Casey backed up, but Yamaguchi continued to advance and started to reach out.

  Casey bolted. Panic pulsed unchecked. His arms and legs moved of their own accord, carrying him as fast as possible toward the safety of the ship. He didn’t stop to look back until he slumped breathless, at the base of the ramp that led to the storage bay. He huffed through a raw and dry throat until it seemed he would never recover. His eyes, blurry with sweat, searched the camp yard. It was a relief that he did not see Yamaguchi.

  Gradually, he became aware of the puppy, squirming around in the pouch, and then heard her “yelp”, complaining about the rough treatment. He reached in and gently placed the dog on the ground, but she just stood there stiff legged. She looked dolefully up at Casey, ears drooping. After a moment Casey reached down and picked her up. The puppy was shivering. He held her against his chest until, with fits and stops, the shaking subsided. He peered into the puppy’s fuzzy, little face and spoke to the dog.

  “Things are not as they appear, are they, Marta? You know it and I know it. What is the key?”

  Marta looked back at Casey, as if she was trying her best to understand and quizzically tipped her head to the side.

  Casey was frustrated and angry. He glanced across the yard at the Main Dome. Instead of going up the ramp and into the ship, he turned and walked with determination in his gait, directly toward the Main Dome, a place he hadn’t the nerve to visit since his beating, until now.

  Not this time, Casey thought, not this time.

  Although not fully recovered from his hard run into camp, he jogged up the slight incline of the ramp and into the dome. After his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness, he searched the expansive room for Wheeler. The dome was nearly empty, a few browns and grays and a red were clustered about a single table in the center of room, but Wheeler was not in sight.

  Casey walked over to the reconstitution area. “Hey, you!” he called out.

  One of the two nutri-techs turned toward Casey. Casey recognized him. It was Joe Ng.

  “What do you want?’ Joe asked, not really interested. He turned back to cleaning up the grill.

  “I want to talk with Wheeler,” Casey said.

  “So?” Ng said casually.

  The insolence rekindled Casey’s determination. He’d been frustrated at every turn, but not today.

  “Joe, you can act like an asshole if you want to, but I am going to speak with Wheeler, with or without your help. If I need to contact Commander Slater and request back-up, I will.” He reached for his com-collar.

  Joe straightened and turned to face Casey, holding a sharp scrapper in his hand, bouncing it up and down in his palm. He returned to cleaning the grill, and then said, “All right. Why not? He’s back in the storage area,” indicating the direction with a nod of his head.

  Casey walked past the shiny ovens and saw an old-fashioned door in the rear wall. He approached it and noticed it was open a crack, but the room beyond it was dark. He pushed against the foam-steel door and it swung open without a sound. While he stood on the threshold, searching the darkness, his puppy stuck her head out of his pouch and began a deep-throated growl unlike any Casey had ever heard from his little dog. The skin on his arms and legs grew tight and erupted with goose bumps.

  He touched the light plate; light-lines immediately came to life. Wheeler was standing no more than three meters in front of him. He was facing Casey, rubbing his elbows, and seemed even stranger close-up than he had at a distance. His face was fixed with a frightening smile, like a mask, revealing both the upper and lower rows of teeth. His unblinking gaze was unnatural. It was a horrifying apparition, a caricature of a face, near enough to look human, yet far enough away to be grotesque.

  Now that Casey had Wheeler before him, all he wanted was to escape, but he was mesmerized. Wheeler didn’t speak, but did take a step toward Casey; the movement broke Casey’s fearful paralysis. With his heart beating wildly, Casey stumbled backward, tripping on his own feet. He turned and ran for the second time within an hour, afraid to even look back over his shoulder. As he dashed heedlessly for the dome exit, he heard laughter from the counter area, but didn’t care. All he wanted was to get out of there.

  This time Casey didn’t stop running until he’d raced up the ramp and reached the up-tube. Old and out of condition, with an aching in his chest, he bent at the waist, his breath wheezing in and out of his mouth. He watched the Storage Deck entrance, but saw no sign of Wheeler. As soon as the ache in his chest subsided, he entered the up-tube and exited on Deck One. He had to talk with Slater.

  Sten Olson was standing guard at Slater’s portal.

  Casey, his body still pulsating from the adrenaline rush, hardly had the breath to speak. “Sten,” he gasped, “I’ve got to see Slater! It’s vital!”

  Olson rolled his pale-blue eyes upward, not even looking at Casey as he spoke. “Commander Slater is busy.”

  Casey could not stay still; he punched in Veck’s code as he walked in a tight circle around the bridge. Sten’s eyes followed him with mild curiosity.

  “Speak,” Jane said.

  “Jane, this is Casey. I need to talk with C
ommander Slater. This is an emergency!”

  There was a pause before Jane answered. “Not today, Casey. Maybe later in the week.”

  “Jane, please! I have to talk with Slater.” The connection clicked closed. Casey’s shoulders slumped, but then he pulled his shoulders back and walked over to Olson. “I’m not going to leave here until Slater comes out, or he agrees to see me.”

  “Suit yourself,” Olson said without concern.

  Casey walked over to the bulkhead with the still blank screens, and was about to sit in the control chair, but then remembered Grace N’duforchu. Instead, he squatted down and leaned back against the bulkhead. His puppy was struggling in his waist pouch and he lifted her out.

  The puppy immediately ran around the bridge, exploring, her tail wagging at a ferocious rate. After a while she ran over to greet Olson and sniff his feet. Without warning, Olson kicked out and sent the puppy sliding across the floor, yelping and crying in surprise and pain. She watched Olson as she walked over to Casey, her tail tight between her legs, and crawled onto his lap.

  “You’re really a mean bastard. Did you know that, Sten?”

  “Keep the mutt away. Animals shouldn’t be allowed in the ship. They stink,” Olson said without emotion.

  “I imagine that means you’ll soon have to leave the ship yourself, wouldn’t you say?”

  Olson ignored the remark. “If that foul little beast comes near me again, I guarantee you I will kill it, with pleasure.”

  Casey scratched his puppy’s ears and the little dog licked his hand. It didn’t appear that she’d been injured by Olson’s kick.

  The evening wore on. Casey sat resolutely in his spot and Olson lounged near Slater’s portal. Then Casey heard Slater’s door open and looked up; it was Jane Veck. She glared at Casey and then turned to walk toward the down-tube.

  “Jane, wait!” Casey called. He struggled to his feet, keeping his dog in his arms, and hurried as best he could.

  She stopped and turned toward him. Although still thin and sharp featured, she looked healthy and had an attractive flush to her cheeks. Casey had never seen her look quite so attractive, despite the slight bulge of her abdomen.

  “What do you want?” Her voice hadn’t changed; it still had that shrill edge.

  “Jane, I need your help...please.”

  “Is that so? You, the important doctor, coming to little Jane Veck and begging for help. Isn’t that a twist? When we were at Copper Mountain, you were so conceited, so filled with self-importance that you wouldn’t even look at a woman, unless she had breasts the size of melons and was dressed in an important color. I would’ve done anything for you then, probably even if you had only said ‘hello’, or even once waved to me in a friendly way. Now look at you, old, despised...hated. It serves you right,” she said, anger pushing her voice another hair-raising notch higher. “No, Casey, you had your chance. Now it’s my turn to show you what it feels like to be rejected. I don’t need or want you anymore. I have a real man. A man who notices me and appreciates me. I could care less about you and what you want.”

  “Jane, I never knew....” said a subdued Casey as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

  “You have a bad habit of touching people. I find it offensive. Get your hand off me. Sten,” she called, but Casey had already let his hand fall away.

  Jane stepped forward and disappeared into the down-tube.

  Olson laughed. “You really have a way with the women. Now I can see why you have a dog for a friend. Who else would have you?” He snorted in delight at his witticism.

  Casey stood there for a moment, keeping his back to Olson. His sense of urgency had faded. He was hungry and tired. He dropped into the tube and exited on Deck Two to find what little comfort he could in the emptiness of the medical suite.

  When he entered the lab he saw a message on his temporary screen. It said: “Casey, I’ll be by tomorrow to pick up my camera. I hope you’ve had a chance to fix it. Lisa B.”

  After feeding his puppy, he sat down and, without much enthusiasm, took out his tools to examine the camera. He checked the integrity of the circuits and components, without needing to know their specific functions. He could find no evidence of malfunction. He leaned back in his chair and idly glanced through Lisa’s photos. What could cause the camera to function well indoors, but poorly outdoors? Nothing came to mind. Casey let the problem rest and fell asleep in the chair.

  Chapter 25

  The following morning found Casey waiting, impatiently. Glancy had failed to show again and this time Casey was definitely not pleased. He’d been looking forward to sharing more knowledge and discussing it with a quick mind but, as the morning wasted away, it was plain that this was not to be. He briefly considered contacting Jane Veck, but after last night’s truth session with her, he didn’t want to risk being rejected again. He thought about what she had said and was honestly astounded. He had no idea anyone would consider him a snob. It certainly didn’t fit with his self-image.

  He picked up Lisa’s camera and the photos, which were still lying on the work counter from the night before, and slid them into his waist pouch. He decided he would return them himself. He should be safe enough as long as he avoided crowds. Besides, he could hardly imagine the self-righteous comp-techs soiling their hands with a physical confrontation, icy stares, turned up noses, yes, but fists? Extremely unlikely.

  He took a last glance around the lab and stepped through the portal into the passageway. He was immediately struck a vicious blow on the back of his head, causing him to collapse in a motionless heap with bright red blood seeping from a gash in his scalp. He didn’t hear Marta’s barking and growling, or the “yelps” of pain when she was kicked aside. He was unaware of being lifted and carried down the passage toward the hall of sleep.

  When he regained consciousness, he heard a moan, not immediately realizing it was his own. His head beat with a steady tempo of pain. He was on his knees and retched, but his stomach was empty. When he opened his eyes, he saw only the dim whiteness of opalescent light. Although sluggish, his mind began to process information. He touched the glassy surface. He knew then that he was inside a burnt out stasis-capsule. With effort, he reached up to activate the inside release, but in its place found a small area of roughness; someone had removed it. He sank down onto his buttocks and rested his arms on his knees, head bent forward.

  He was at peace. Perhaps it was death he’d been longing for all along. He thought about his unknown assailant. There were certainly plenty of candidates. Whoever it was, they couldn't have found a better place to hide his body. The capsules were designed to transmit only one form of energy, light. His com-collar was useless. The capsules were opaque to all other wavelengths of electromagnetic energy. They were solid. No amount of yelling or pounding would be detected, even if there were someone standing just on the other side of the opaque surface. Nonetheless, he felt obligated to make some kind of an effort at escape. He reached into his pouch and took out Lisa’s camera. He tried scratching the surface of the capsule with the sharp corner of the camera, but the vaporized body that surrounded him was permanently fused with the ceramic surface. The edge of the camera didn’t even leave a scratch.

  When he replaced the camera in his pouch, some photos spilled onto the capsule floor. He glanced at them and then looked closer. They looked different. He picked them up to get a better look. He rubbed his eyes and looked again; even in the dim light of the capsule he could see they were different.

  He brought the picture of Protonov holding Lisa around the waist close to his eyes and studied the detail. They looked filthy. Their uniforms were splotchy and tattered, with long tears reaching up the pant legs. Lisa’s immaculate hair wasn’t; it was stringy and gnarled. They both appeared gaunt, as if they hadn’t eaten a nutritious meal in months. This was the picture of two degenerate bums, not meticulous professionals. But, they were both smiling like imbeciles, unaware and uncaring about their condition.

  Was he hall
ucinating? He glanced down at his own torn and muddy uniform. Was the oxygen already becoming depleted? His sense of serene acceptance deserted him. He yelled and pounded with his fists on the capsule’s hard surface, until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. Exhausted, he collapsed into the base of the capsule. The air was becoming thin. His breathing didn’t satisfy his hunger for air. Gradually, imperceptibly, he became sleepy. He tried desperately to keep his eyes open, to stay awake, but slipped inevitably into unconsciousness. His body was still striving for oxygen, but the sleep of carbon dioxide and hypoxemia was the victor.

  When he awakened he was on his pallet in the medical lab. His head felt like it was being pounded by a brick. When he opened his eyes, the light was sharp and penetrating. He tried to sit up, but his arms were too weak to support his weight. He closed his eyes tightly and temporarily gave up the effort to move. It was unreal. He was trapped in a nightmare, knowing it was a nightmare, but unable to awaken.

  After an interminable passage of time, Casey was aware again. He heard a voice. It was Glancy.

  “Doctor Conklin, how nice of you to rejoin us. I’ve got to tip my hat to you. In all my days of brawling, I’ve never met anyone who managed to get himself beat up as often as you. Congratulations.”

  Casey opened one eye no wider than a slit. Glancy was leaning against the bulkhead and holding Marta, scratching her behind her ears.

  “Get the synthesizer,” Casey moaned.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know the routine. It’s right next to you, old man. Don’t you wish you had taught me how to use it?” Glancy chuckled a cheery, little laugh.