The Man in the Tree
Page 45
“Trying to keep him alive,” Helt said.
Mena shook her head. “I’m the one who suggested taking him to the observation platform. To buy time to find out what Ryan had sabotaged, if anything, and to decide how to handle the fact he’d died before we knew what he’d done.”
Oh, Mena. Helt wanted to hug her or shake her. Hug her and shake her and make this go away like a bad dream.
Archer folded his arms across his chest and glared at Mena. “This was not necessary,” Archer said. “Your involvement in the rest of the series of events was, for the record, quite minimal. Compared to mine. I came with you, you know.”
“It was not minimal. I was unprepared. A syringe of pellet oxygen would have bought time; I didn’t think of it until hours later.”
“You’re a vet,” Jim Tulloch said.
“And he was a human, not a drowned calf. I would have done much better with a drowned calf, and maybe if I’d been thinking that way Ryan would have lived, and had enough brain left to talk to us.”
“Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” Jim said. “All of us know how that review feels. You are among peers no less fallible than yourself.”
“That does not excuse my behavior,” Mena said.
“Nor absolve you of your responsibilities, doc,” Jim said.
Mena lifted her coffee cup to hide her lips. That she was keeping them tightly closed showed anyway.
“You have to go on to the next patient. Even if it’s you. I’m telling you things you already know because I know them, too. I know them too well,” Jim said. “So, he was dead. There you were with a dead man on the elevator.”
“At the door to the Athens agora,” Archer said. “Hauling the body to the clinic for pronouncement and disposal was an option, one we dismissed perhaps too quickly. I had accessed Ryan’s bio while we rode the elevator down, Mena and I. I found that Ryan was not expected to show up at work for a week. I knew Doughan’s suspicions about him; he’d told us, briefly, about the attempted sabotage. The man had already demonstrated erratic behavior.”
Erratic behavior. Helt thought that was nicely understated.
“He had been drunk and drugged; my look at his records said he was a loner. No one was expecting him at work the next morning and we needed time to think.”
Archer’s precise choice of words was so familiar, so typical, so unchanged, even in this. Erratic behavior, not bug-fuck nuts. Pronouncement and disposal, not get rid of. “In Center, the odds were that his body might not have been discovered for days,” Helt said.
“That, plus any damage that might have ensued from the fall, would have helped tip the odds toward a presumption of suicide,” Archer said. “It was reprehensible of us to think of that, but I did, later, briefly. That night, the goal was to buy time.”
“Did you take Mena home?” Helt asked.
“Yes, to Petra,” Archer said. “Then I went home myself and repaired certain … discrepancies … in the SM hour. Jerry and Nadia discovered the body shortly thereafter. I was … I was dismayed it was found so quickly.”
“What about the Seed Banker money?” Helt asked.
“It was an ill-advised ploy to deflect some of the attention from Dr. Maury,” Archer said.
“Done as a favor to me,” Mena said. She held her knees between her linked hands and leaned forward to look at Archer’s face.
“I beg to differ, Mena. You did not ask me for a favor. I saw your distress when Dr. Maury’s ride down the elevator was discovered, and planned a distraction that was sure to be found erroneous in a short amount of time.” Helt got the stare again.
“I’m sorry it took me so long, boss,” Helt said.
“As well you should be. My hasty thought was that the error would be discovered in time to do no harm, because we expected Doughan to find the sabotage quickly. We would have quickly made public what we had done, admitted our crime, and offered abject apologies to the entire ship and to the Seed Bankers in particular. The money is theirs now, a partial payment for any distress I may have caused them.”
“Did I miss the Seed Banker list in the records?” Helt asked. “Is it there somewhere? We’ve been through Ryan’s files until I’m cross-eyed.”
“Oh, no.” Archer shook his head and his right hand, but not in the same rhythm. “I went through his coverall after we stripped it off him.” There was a scrap of paper in one of his pockets,” Archer said. “I kept it. A list of names.”
Archer reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a wrinkled sheet of fiber paper, smaller than Helt’s palm. He handed it over. Helt took it. The seven names were carefully handwritten in black ink. All caps.
“I transferred his interface to my Huerfano. I went through it and there was nothing helpful. Doughan disposed of the physical object and the coverall later.”
“I did.” Doughan nodded. “They went into one of the reclamation chutes and they’ll never come back.”
“I went through the bios on those names rather hastily after that first meeting,” Archer said. “I looked for connections to Cash Ryan. The Seed Banker exposures seemed a common thread, one worthy of investigation.” Archer looked at Doughan from beneath his bushy white eyebrows. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”
Doughan started to say something. He didn’t. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Helt’s mouth was dry. He took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “Okay. So that’s how it happened. We’ve made the apologies to the Seed Bankers, maybe not as you planned, Archer, but it’s done.” He’d run the scenarios, he had a plan, and he didn’t, couldn’t, know how this would play out. “The three of you killed a man, and tried to hide it, and that’s done, too. Giliam, could I have a little more coffee?”
Giliam got up and poured all round.
“You made mistakes in haste and there are consequences,” Helt said. “I will not discuss lapses of judgment with you; I’ve just lost an eye to one of my own.”
The coffee was nice and hot, and medium roast, and exactly right. Helt took a sip of it and lifted his cup to Mena.
“I cannot imagine anyone born on Earth who would have a better chance at keeping our ecosphere alive. You’re the best, Mena. That goes for you, Archer, and you, Doughan, as well. I’ve run projections of how things will be with your successors.
“David II is brilliant and his ability to do the job is not in question, but he has some identity issues to sort through,” Helt said.
For an eyeblink of time, Helt’s control slipped and he was watching a recording made when David II was young and on Earth, talking to his father on Kybele. David II observed that Petra canyon was twice as deep as the original specs said it should be. “It’s so much better this way,” David II said. “So much more like Nostos will be. It’s how I wanted it.”
David I smiled. “That was me, not you. You will grow up to be less impetuous, I hope.”
Helt blinked the memories away. “I’m confident he will solve them, but he needs time. Jerry will be an excellent SysSu exec; as for Nadia, IA will fit her very well. They could take over for you and me, Archer, in a heartbeat. But for SysSu—Mena, Elena is not the optimal candidate for your position. I’ve scrutinized Biosystems personnel as best I can, and I think Martin Kumar is the best choice. But not now. He needs at least ten years on his own.”
He watched Mena think about what she knew of Martin Kumar, watched Doughan wonder about how Navigation would change with David II in command, watched Archer try to hide that he was pleased; Helt had agreed with him on who went where.
“Let me offer a plan,” Helt said. “We’ll discuss lapses in transparency and accountability later. Doughan, you have six hours before the shuttle arrives.”
“Six hours and fourteen minutes,” Doughan said.
“That should be time enough for us to make some changes. You won’t be leaving on it. You don’t march off to Earth, any of you. You stay.”
“You don’t plan to try to hide what we’ve done,” Archer said. “It would be almost impossible t
o do, and in any case, I won’t have it.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you, Archer. After the shuttle leaves, you’ll all get your chances for acknowledgment and atonement. Doughan gets a charge of something like involuntary manslaughter; Giliam can come up with the right wording on that.”
“Close enough,” Giliam said.
“And you two, Mena, Archer, get charged with aiding and abetting, or whatever.”
“Your lack of knowledge about the nomenclature of crime is shocking,” Giliam said. “But yes, lesser charges. I’ll need time to properly draft them. I can’t possibly do that in six hours.”
“I know. The legal process happens here, not on Earth,” Helt said. “Charges will be brought after departure, well after departure. Giliam will have plenty of time to come up with the right wording for them.
“Cash Ryan can’t be charged with treason or attempted sabotage now, but what he tried to do—I think that will be clearly stated. Shortly after that, whatever the outcome, Doughan will call for a vote of confidence that includes all three execs. You’ll have your chance to get booted out of office then.”
Helt wanted to lean back and close his eyes. They burned, and holding the data flow at bay was so hard. The tripod structure the execs personified was sound; it would stay that way as long as there was someone to stand outside it and keep it stable. He didn’t want to be that someone. He’d have to be that someone, for a while, if they bought this.
“It’s that simple?” Doughan asked.
“A great deal of effort went into that simplicity,” Mena said.
“I’ll send you the list of references he consulted if you would like to review them.” Archer’s voice was very mild, very gentle. He’d been watching Helt since the injury, that was obvious. Archer was back on his game, if indeed he’d ever been off it.
“Not really. Will it work, Helt?” Doughan asked.
All of them had been watching the frenzy of his research since he struggled back to consciousness with a new eye. Of course they had; they were concerned about their fates, and that of the ship. “It may. It may not. There’s the minor matter of changing the Articles of Governance. Giliam has a document for you to look at. We need to begin using it now, today, by executive order.
“You can do that, Doughan, but the changes will need to be ratified at some point. At some point in the near future.”
“A minor matter.” Doughan slapped the arm of his chair. “Let’s get this done so we can get back to our lives.”
Doughan got to his feet. Archer was back in his files again. Jim Tulloch was staring at his sandals and wiggling his toes, and Giliam looked like he always did, a little exasperated and very picky about dotted i’s and crossed t’s. Mena looked tired and sad and wonderful.
“Wait,” Helt said. “Please. There’s one thing I would like to ask you.”
“Go ahead,” Doughan said.
“Why did you ask Archer to hide the World Tree?”
Doughan stretched out his back and kneaded his healing rib. “Because Elena showed it to Mena, and Mena showed it to me, and then I asked Archer to hide it for a while.”
“You knew Yves Copani,” Helt said. “You let him work in peace.”
“No, I didn’t know him. I still don’t.”
“He’ll be staying,” Helt said.
“That’s part of the deal, isn’t it?” Doughan said. “Anyone on board now who wants to stay, stays.”
“Yes.”
“Accepted,” Doughan said, and Archer and Mena nodded an okay.
“Yves’s tree. It’s a special thing in a special place,” Helt said. “He pushed the boundaries of responsible behavior when he put it there.”
“No question,” Doughan said.
The files that showed its creation were online now, had been for hours. In memoriam. Yves had carved those words in a dark place, and nothing else. Helt thought he knew, and knew he would never ask, about the dead miner who had wanted to stay here, so long ago, who had been determined to make the journey. It was possible the miner’s ashes were part of the sand at the tree’s roots. It made no difference; the myth was free to thrive if it was needed. Free to be discarded if it wasn’t.
“But you let it happen. All three of you.”
“It was an executive decision. For the good of the ship,” Doughan said.
Some myths are worth keeping, worth re-creating. Perhaps Archer and Doughan and Mena understood that better than Helt did.
“Heh.” Halvor Borresen, Lawspeaker for Kybele, the first of his name, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“It’s time to get to work,” Doughan said. “Are we okay? Everybody? Helt?”
“For now,” Helt said.
ALSO BY SAGE WALKER
Whiteout
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SAGE WALKER was born in Oklahoma and grew up steeped in simile and sultry south wind from the Gulf. She entered college as a music major and exited with a B.S. in zoology and eventually an M.D. A longtime Taos resident, her company established the first full-time emergency physician coverage in hospitals in Taos, Los Alamos, and Santa Fe. She stopped practicing in 1987 and describes herself as a burned-out ER doc who enjoys wilderness, solitude, good company … and telling stories. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1: Pleasure Centers
Chapter 2: The Man in the Tree
Chapter 3: An Autopsy
Chapter 4: A Lonely Man
Chapter 5: Night Work
Chapter 6: An Unexpected Death
Chapter 7: Make a List
Chapter 8: Elena’s Story
Chapter 9: Last Meal
Chapter 10: Cold Equations
Chapter 11: In Absence of Directives
Chapter 12: Comfort
Chapter 13: The Sane Suspect
Chapter 14: The Sculptor and His Girl
Chapter 15: Privacy
Chapter 16: Manipulated Objects
Chapter 17: Chimeras
Chapter 18: Key Words
Chapter 19: The Midwife
Chapter 20: Mena and Doughan
Chapter 21: Retracing Steps
Chapter 22: At the Roots
Chapter 23: Code Talkers
Chapter 24: Kicking the Anthill
Chapter 25: The Seed Banker Revolt
Chapter 26: Cold Places
Chapter 27: Orbital Transfer
Chapter 28: No There, There, Yet
Chapter 29: An Eye for Wisdom
Chapter 30: Old Masters
Also by Sage Walker
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE MAN IN THE TREE
Copyright © 2017 by Sage Walker
All rights reserved.
Cover art by John Harris
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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First Edition: September 2017