by Gary Tarulli
Several seconds of silence elapsed before the resumption of Thompson’s recorded voice:
“Whatever mischief you’re contemplating, Larry, proceeding is a grave mistake. No matter how far you may be planning ahead, there are bound to be unforeseen outcomes and repercussions. Inevitably, some you won’t like.”
“To employ your vernacular,” Melhaus answered back, “you can cut the bullshit. Now call back the others from their playtime so I can make my intentions plain. I don’t care to waste time repeating myself.”
Thompson turned off the recorder and slipped it back in his pocket. He turned to Kelly. “That’s all there is. Melhaus hasn’t exited Desio since.”
“Belying his aberrant actions, he sounded pretty cogent,” she said. “I wish I had been better able to diagnose his illness. To predict his behavior.”
“You and Kyle did well enough,” Thompson said, reacting to Kelly’s reluctance to volunteer more. “And things will get pretty quiet around here if I solicit advice only from those of us who’ve been infallible.”
“The problem is I don’t have much more to offer,” Kelly said, appearing frustrated. “What I detected from the recording is that he harbors a deep resentment toward us and he remains in possession of all his mental faculties. There is a small chance he can still be reasoned with. That’s not very helpful, I’m afraid.”
Minus the part about not being helpful, I agreed with Kelly and said so. Furthermore, but I kept this particular feeling to myself, I was encouraged by what I didn’t hear from the recording: No hint whatsoever of Thompson being rattled. The opposite was true, evidenced not only by what he said to Melhaus, but that he had the presence of mind to switch on the recorder in the first place.
There was one more item to consider. The details behind the personal insult Doctor Melhaus levied at me. Not waiting for the inevitable inquiry, I tendered what I could recall.
“I was in my cabin, writing, when Melhaus was reconfiguring the spectroscope equipment. He must have used the opportunity to tamper with the laser. Once or twice I noticed the lights flicker. At the time, I figured that was normal.”
“Anything else?” Thompson asked.
There was. “Won’t make you feel any better,” I said.
“Let’s hear it anyway.”
“When I left my cabin I ran into him as he came down from the command and control compartment. He had an uneasy look about him. I attributed it to his usual impatience with my casual manner, nothing more. I really didn’t think much about it—it was three days ago, before our concerns about him intensified. Perhaps, in retrospect, I should have put two and two together.”
“Leave the math to us scientists,” Thompson remarked. “And don’t kick yourself about it.”
“No, rather let me do it,” Diana said.
“So apparently Melhaus has the ability to follow through with his threats,” Paul said. Nevertheless, he sought confirmation from Thompson, in his role as the ship’s engineer.
“The laser was strategically mounted on a turret and designed to rotate three hundred sixty degrees, so all possible approaches are covered. If he’s done as he’s claimed—reprogrammed acquisition and firing parameters—our body heat, or motion, or a combination of both will instantaneously signal the weapon to fire. Once fired, unless he’s altered this parameter, too, a five-centimeter diameter laser beam will remain activated for several seconds. Whatever or whomever is unlucky enough to be in the laser’s path will find itself either sporting a significant hole or be sliced through and through. In five seconds the weapon can burn a cavity ten centimeters deep into the toughest metal alloys. In short, he has the ability to keep us at bay.”
“Indefinitely?” Paul asked.
“Long enough,” Thompson responded, although I detected in his voice, or imagined, the slightest trace of hesitation. Whatever I heard, it was insufficient for me to pursue.
“You haven’t explained how he was able to stand outside mouthing off,” Diana said.
“That small, handheld device he was holding. I’m not sure how it works, but if I had to guess, it is programmed with a second, overriding set of acquisition parameters. Almost everything he’s done is straightforward reprogramming, all well within his capabilities.”
“Why doesn’t he avoid us altogether?” Kelly asked. “He’s capable of solo-piloting to another island.”
“Four possible reasons,” Thompson said. “The nearby islands have less viable landing sites; why leave a location where the Orb have acknowledged our presence; he has some need of our assistance; and, lastly, this…”
Thompson unfastened the flap of a security pouch on his belt. Reaching in, he took out and held up for our inspection an object roughly the size and shape of a walnut.
“Without this reactor shunt, he’s going nowhere. I’m not sure he’s aware of that just yet.”
“Oh, I so hope he isn’t,” Diana said with great pleasure, “’cause I’d sure like to be around when he finds out. But when did you…?”
“Two days ago,” Thompson replied, “when I incorrectly believed I was ahead of the curve in regard to his mental state. I also entered numerous programming codes to alert me in the event unauthorized alterations were made to any of Desio’s operating systems—including the laser. Unfortunately, at some point in advance of my actions, Melhaus wrote and installed ghost programs preventing me from detecting that all I was doing was wasting my time. His programming skills are more sophisticated than mine.”
“His programming skills are par excellence,” Paul commented.
“But he’s not as well-versed in engineering,” Thompson added, returning the shunt to his belt pouch.
“So, two possibilities lie ahead,” I ventured. The two I assumed all along: We all leave this planet together or we leave it not at all.”
If Thompson agreed with my simplified assessment of our situation, I couldn’t tell. Again, I had a vague feeling he was holding something back. Diana, however, did not hold back.
“And what the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?” she blurted out. “Eat rocks?”
“We first need to hear what Larry has to say,” Kelly said. “Isn’t he waiting for us?”
“Let him wait,” Thompson said. “If we jump when he tells us, he’ll presume to tell us how high.”
“There’s something important that I think you should know first,” Diana said. “Paul! Why haven’t you told him? Go ahead, tell him.”
“Yes, of course,” Paul replied. “Simply put, we have come to the tentative conclusion that the entirety of the planet’s ocean comprises, in fact is, the Orb. Is the Orb, and gives rise to millions of Orbs.”
This statement, uttered with Paul’s usual understated delivery and modesty, was then hastily backed up with a summation of the available supporting evidence. Despite the grave situation we were in, I found enjoyment in watching Thompson’s face change from placid stoicism to bewilderment to comprehension, and, lastly, to an expression of shock, or at least as close to shock as I’d likely ever see in him. His eyes were drawn to what was the ocean and to the two or three dozen Orbs serenely floating thereon.
“Don’t let him try to fool you,” Diana proudly informed Thompson, “the revelation is exclusively Paul’s.”
“And this occurred where?” Thompson, collecting himself, inquired of Paul.
“At the cove.”
Where else, I thought, since it was plainly evident we had just returned from there. Then I realized why Thompson wanted confirmation of the location. The time we spent at the cove relaxing, or in contemplation, encouraged by him, was now justified a hundredfold.
“Beautiful work.” Thompson’ praise was meant for Paul; then, for Paul’s benefit as much as ours, he turned to Diana, Kelly, and me. “Well done, all of you.”
“Can we go rub Melhaus’s face in this?” Diana asked.
Thompson had other ideas. “For the immediate future, we’ll keep it from him.”
“Why?” Dian
a complained.
“An exact reason I can’t give you; only, any knowledge we possess and he doesn’t may assist us in some indeterminate way.”
As if on cue, Melhaus exited Desio, angrily shouting to us from across the Square.
“I don’t advise you keep me waiting any longer. Not if you want me to leave out dinner.”
“What the hell,” Diana, teeth clenched, muttered under her breath. “He’s treating us like monkeys in a zoo.”
“Don’t stand up,” Thompson cautioned. “We’ll wait a few seconds, then walk closer. Kyle, you and Diana keep a low profile. He harbors the most animus toward both of you, excluding myself and Kelly.” Thompson laughed. “Ah, screw it,” he said, realizing all but Paul were included. “Let’s do this.”
We approached the ship, keeping a prudent distance. Thompson positioned himself slightly ahead of us and attempted to grab the initiative.
“We’re all together, Larry, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I see the dog’s kept on leash,” he observed, ignoring Thompson. “Still no ill effects from the encounter?”
I chose not to answer, fearing I’d make a bad situation worse; Melhaus, however, acting as if I had responded, said, “Good, I will have use for her tomorrow.”
“And what would that be?” Thompson demanded.
“In good time, in good time. And Kelly, have you nothing cogent to say? Not peddling your pills today?”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” Kelly responded, “a laser stands between me and the drugs you need.”
“That is an impediment,” Melhaus affirmed, laughing. “Oh, yes, there is one other impediment I shall share with you. I destroyed a good deal of your pharmacopeia.”
“Not all, I trust?” Kelly said, suppressing alarm.
“‘Trust’ is an interesting word coming from any of you. No, not all, that would be foolish, would it not? Only the chemical compounds I could identify as psychotropics.”
“We’re wasting our time here,” Thompson said suddenly, turning his back on Melhaus to face us. My heart began to race in contemplation of how the physicist would react to the deliberate affront.
I didn’t have long to wait.
Faster than the eye could follow, Desio’s turret rotated and a streak of pure purple light instantly intersected with Thompson’s geology equipment. A blinding cascade of red and orange sparks erupted outward, followed by several rapid popping sounds as metal and glass components exploded and burned. Beneath a sagging equipment table, a molten patch of rock began to glow a deep red. An evil-smelling greenish and black smoke snaked into the sky. In the space of a few seconds, the purple light had vanished, as did a low hum coming from the ship’s interior, a noise noticeable only by its sudden cessation.
The destruction unnerved us, or three of us anyway, for I noted an incongruous flash of satisfaction appear on Thompson’s face. He had deliberately provoked Melhaus, in the process finding out the capabilities of the laser controller being held so conspicuously, and tightly, in the physicist’s hand.
“So, Larry,” Thompson said, “your little toy works as advertised.”
“Proven at the expense of your equipment,” Melhaus responded, irritated Thompson had obtained the information he wanted.
“A small price to pay.”
“The next price will be higher. You can’t afford it.”
“Harm any member of my crew,” Thompson said flatly, “chances are you’ll never leave the planet.”
“Is that what you’d call a bluff?” Melhaus said contemptuously.
“Harm any one of us,” Thompson reiterated, “and that includes Angie, and you’ll find out. I’ve warned you before, doctor. You’d do well to heed the law of unforeseen consequences. Do not presume you can anticipate with absolute certainty the outcome of your actions.”
“Empty talk,” Melhaus said dismissively.
“No, Larry,” Thompson said; and in a voice so low and so strikingly sad that only a fool—or worse, someone separated from the better part of human emotion—would have completely misread his sincerity.
But Melhaus was unmoved, and judging him so, Thompson removed the reactor shunt from his belt, centered it in the flattened palm of his hand, and held it up for all to see.
“The reactor shunt. Larry, without it, Desio goes nowhere.”
The effect of the pronouncement, a disturbingly shrill and forced laugh, was less than Thompson hoped for.
“Ha! You still believe the future rotates around you or me?!” Melhaus said, wildly gesturing toward the distant Orb. “The future is discovering what they are! I don’t have much to lose anymore, do I? Not with what you’ve done to my reputation. So tomorrow I shall endeavor to salvage everything. I shall conduct certain experiments that may require assistance.” The physicist laughed once more, an ugly laugh shaped by anger and resignation. “Unable to leave the planet, you say? Well, if you fail me, we’ll remain here, mark my words, until hell and the planet freeze over!”
Conversation terminated, Melhaus stepped up onto the ship’s landing. Paul, in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, shouted a warning after him. “Assist you?! Unlikely. Without the food you promised, and bedding, you’ll find us quite unfit.”
The physicist paused momentarily, and then disappeared from view. I looked at Thompson and, with an attempt at humor, said, “That went well.”
We followed Thompson back across Red Square to a secluded semicircle of boulders out of line of sight from the ship. Here he had spent a few nights watching the stars and sleeping; his own minicamp consisting of his bedroll, a small table, a solar-powered lamp, and a few personal effects.
“Make ourselves at home?” Diana inquired, critically evaluating what would be our accommodations for at least one evening, if not considerably longer.
“Sure,” Thompson replied, “and help yourself to a cold beer in the fridge.”
“Pretty soon we’ll be the cold ones in the fridge,” Paul said, picking up on the remark. “And it won’t be imaginary.”
Melhaus, it seemed, was in a position to take everything from us, everything, that is, save our warped sense of humor. He’d never manage that, but we were doing a good job of avoiding the inevitable: A serious discussion starting with somebody, probably Diana, asking, “What the hell do we do now?” Instead, she met and held Thompson’s eyes, giving her words a touching emphasis. “Now I’m the one to say sorry,” she began, fighting back stronger, rawer emotions she didn’t want to show. “About your research. Your equipment. Such an incredible waste.”
“Diana,” Thompson responded, “I have much of my research archived onboard Desio. I’m confident we’ll recover the bulk of our work. But, for me, you know the worst of it?” Thompson pointed to the enigmatic stone formations that had consumed much of his research time. “Unless I’m favored by one of Paul’s brilliant insights, I may be constrained to rely on whatever twisted logic Kyle uses to explain those spires.”
“Rest easy,” I said, “I don’t have a credible explanation. Yet. Too many of these damn distractions.”
Overhearing our conversation, an independent observer (though such a being I believe can never exist) would think that our lives were not truly in peril or judge our banter as meaningless and out of place. And said observer would be wrong, for what passed for idle conversation gave us time to mentally regroup and to steady our nerves.
In a subtle way, it brought us closer together.
Consequently, Thompson let us ramble on, occasionally joining in. He also convinced Diana and Paul, over their polite objections, to sit on his bedding while he found a less comfortable place on one of the boulders ringing our little enclave.
Kelly and I chose to sit on the bare ground, counterbalancing each other by leaning back to back. When we were settled, Angie, still on leash for her own safety, crawled onto my lap. Her body was facing forward, but she twisted her neck and head around to give me a pathetic look (the one poodles seem to have a patent on) and I real
ized it was well past the hour she expected to be fed. When her stare went ignored for several seconds (not as easy as it sounds, for I was feeling derelict in my obligation) she began to whine softly, and I issued, and she obeyed, a “quiet” command. Soon enough, I thought, the rest of us would be hungry, too. Unlike Angie, however, we understood the reason why. Or did we, for how well did we truly appreciate the reasons leading up to the mental decline of our fellow crewmate? Not sufficiently well, that was quite apparent.
The lack of true understanding was disquieting. When faced with adversity, it is easier, in my estimation, to be pessimistic, even morose, as the sun sets and the gloomy quality of light portends the demise of yet another day. In the lengthening shadows, a part of each of us becomes more willing to believe a dire future is not only possible, but inevitable.
And yet, although futility and resignation stood prominently before us, we refused to embrace them. Collectively and individually, we were not the type to let the universe just happen to us.
This was especially true of Thompson. After the blue disc hid below the horizon, he said, and not in an offhanded way, “Tomorrow, the sun will come up.”
“I beg your pardon?” Diana said, as if she hadn’t heard.
“Tomorrow, the sun will rise; of that, we can be reasonably sure. And since we are made reasonably sure of one thing, we go about our days predisposed to seeking the same certainty, the same assurance, even when it does not exist, in all we see and do. The compulsiveness in which we go about this can best be found in love and in religion as well as in science. Perhaps we must admit the same proclivity in predicting rational behavior from our colleague, Doctor Melhaus. If this is true, and I believe it is, we can be forgiven—for our better nature hoped his would prevail.
“We must accept that the desire to find, through science, a definitive answer to the Orb has swallow him whole, excluding all else. We must take him at his word when he claims he’ll subjugate our lives to satisfy his need. Coming to terms with this decidedly unpleasant admission, we can approach the seriousness of our situation. Tomorrow he will demand more than we can in good conscience give. I anticipate he’ll want to attach instrumentation to Angie and use her to draw the Orb in closer. He may demand our help capturing an Orb. Or insist I reinstall the reactor shunt. None of these actions are acceptable to me. Understanding the possible consequences if we fail to comply, are any acceptable to you?”