by E. R. Mason
The body would have looked human except for the small pig nose and two large front teeth. There was that crumpled, hideous expression of death that made you want to look away. The thinning brown hair was very straight to the shoulders, splayed partly over the face. The skin had begun to mummify. There was a brown leather wrap-around jacket tied at the waist, the same leather used for the trousers. Brown leather boots were still snapped on.
Patrick came up and knelt over the body. “It was a blow to the head, of course. He’s been here more than a month.”
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“The mummification. It’s a pretty universal constant.”
“He doesn’t look like a resident,” said Wilson.
“You are correct. Too much decomposition, too fast,” replied R.J.
Wilson stepped next to the Doctor and knelt. He began searching the man’s clothing, moving the stiff body as necessary.
“I’m glad Catherine did not come along to see this,” said Patrick.
“Doc, she’s tougher than anyone here,” I said.
“You’re right, of course,” he replied, with a look of embarrassment.
“There’s no kind of wallet or anything, but there’s a bunch of personal stuff here,” declared Wilson. Without standing, he handed me some folded documents, then continued to search.
The very first item was a 3-D photo of a smiling, pig-nosed woman. She wore a diamond-studded crown across her forehead backed by thin, ivory blond hair. Her dress was equally diamond-studded, cut low across ample breasts that were accented by a lace pattern that may have been tattooed, but more likely natural. The back of the photo had an inscription in a language I did not recognize. The rest of the documents were scrawled with the same language.
“That’s all of it, Adrian.” Wilson stood and looked at me. “What do we do? Leave him like this, or should we bury the body?”
“I have a feeling the overseers of this place are not aware of this. We were told not to effect any changes here. R.J., those probes that intercepted us, can we send a message using the same basic binary they used?”
“Easy,” replied R.J.
“I have no problem being a snitch here. We get back, we’ll use that code to send out a message explaining what we found and that we believe a crime has been committed, and give these coordinates. We’ll do that as we’re leaving. I wouldn’t want the overseers, whoever they are, thinking we had anything to do with this. In the meantime, let’s scan this com console for everything we can get and head back. Maybe this guy’s stuff has something helpful. Anyone else have any suggestions?”
There were none. When the scanners chirped complete, we carefully made our way back out to the waterfall and closed the nine-ton door. Back in town, it looked like the vehicles on the street had moved forward a few feet. As we passed the ball game, the ball was now just a few inches from the player’s glove. The lady with the dog had changed positions, as had others in our line of sight. There were spots on the ground where we had walked earlier, our footprints just now beginning to form.
As we crossed the playing field, Patrick came up alongside me. He seemed to have something to say and kept looking back at the others. Finally he could stand it no longer.
“Adrian, we need to talk.”
“There’s got to be some kind of clue to Emma’s whereabouts. I’m sure we’ll find something from that com station, or even in that guy’s belongings, something that will give us a lead.”
“That’s not what I’m referring to, Adrian. I really don’t know how to go about this. I don’t have a leg to stand on. You take me in, help me, and agree to risk your life, and I end up having an… an…, that is, interfering with your relationship. I don’t know how that happened. Honest to God. Never thought I’d ever do a thing like that.”
“Interfering with my relationship? That’s an eloquent way of putting it.”
“Okay then, you come back from hell to find out the guy you’re helping is screwing your woman!”
It made me chuckle. “Well, that’s the way Wilson might put it.”
“If I were you I’d just dump me out an airlock or something.”
“Things aren’t always what they seem, Patrick.”
“I don’t understand.”
I stopped and looked back at the other two. They had fallen slightly behind. Wilson had stopped and kneeled to pick up something from the ground and it looked like R.J. was explaining it to him.
I turned back to Patrick. “Doc, I’m not sure if Catherine was treating me, beating me, or just trying to figure herself out. Did she tell you about the ejection?”
“A little.”
“There are things you can only tell your best doctor. That’s you, Patrick. It’s like this, I try not to think about it, but I’ve come real close to the edge maybe too many times.”
“Don’t I know,” he replied.
“But no matter how close I’ve cut it, I always believed I’d get out of it with my skin. To quote a character that has always inspired me, 'I never believed in a no-win scenario.' When my Sabre Jet ate that bird, suddenly for the very first time I heard a little voice saying, you’re not going to get out of this one, Tarn. A whole bunch of things went through my mind in those two seconds. I had to switch into the die-with-dignity mode, if you know what I mean. I could not eject. The Sabre was inverted. It would have meant doing the lawn-dart trick into the ground. So that was it. The great finality. I had no chance. Then at the very last instant, for some reason that aircraft rolled upright just enough to let me pull the handles. Afterward, I had a tremor in my left hand I couldn’t control. It was tiny enough to hide, but not from Catherine. I knew it was a ghost of the leftover fear. She knew it too. You don’t shake that kind of thing too easy. She tricked me into staying with her for a couple weeks, and scared the hell out me enough times to open a little door inside and let that face of death escape. Cured me of the jitters. Since then, I think she’s just been observing the patient to be sure. She’s a damn smart woman. A genius, I’d guess. She knows I know. That’s why she wasn’t worried about taking you on. She knew I’d understand. The Tusani finished the job for her. Living with them was like whitewashing my soul. Now, to me, my life is divided into two parts. Me before the Tusani, and me after the Tusani. Adrian B.T., Adrian A.T. You and I are all clear, Patrick. But let me tell you, you may be in real trouble.”
“How do you mean?”
“Is Catherine treating you, or involved with you? Figure that out while we try to find the person who means more than anything to you.”
Wilson and R.J. came up alongside. “Adrian, nobody will care if I take just a rock, will they?” asked Wilson.
“I think only if it’s a rock that might change the course of history,” I replied with a smirk.
“Very funny,” he replied, but he looked as though he was not sure.
R.J. took the grapefruit-sized chunk of sandstone from him, held it out at arm's length, waist-high, and let go. The rock hung in midair.
“Is that the damnedest thing!” said Wilson. “I can’t get used to it!”
“It will do this exactly the same way on Earth,” added R.J.
“Thanks for the demo, guys. We do need a sampling team to collect some simple specimens to take back and drive Earth’s physicists mad.”
“I can do that,” said R.J.
“I think Danica and Catherine deserve a little surface time. You and I need to take a hard look at that com data, R.J.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Wilson snatched his rock back from midair. “Well, this baby’s mine. You guys get your own.”
Back inside Griffin, Danica and Catherine scrambled around in joy at the prospect of seeing a time-shifted world. Wilson volunteered to keep an eye on them. Patrick begged to go along.
R.J. and I sat at the engineering stations, scanning everything we had found on the dead man, and downloading everything from the alien com computer. We sat back waiting, R.J. staring at t
he photo the man had been carrying.
“Funny how it’s the same sentiment, even from species to species, isn’t it?”
“You getting philosophical there, Professor?”
“Well, this has got to be a picture of a wife or lover. Something he could look at to remind him he was loved.”
“The elusive dream…”
“By the way, while we’re waiting, when we were in that hidden chamber, you saw what was going on in there, didn’t you?” said R.J.
“Oh, boy.”
“No, really, a chamber of skulls? The thirteenth skull missing? Danica’s skull. That’s where they found it.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.”
“That skull was not originally from this system. It does not have the same time signature. That’s probably why they were able to get away with taking it.”
“Yep.”
“But that’s not all. The place was trashed by somebody looking for something else. Did you pick up on that, too?”
“Yep. Hard to miss the mess.”
“They were searching for the crystals to go with the skull.”
“No doubt.”
“So the crystals must have been hidden separately, but somehow Blackwell got his hands on them.”
“I do believe you’ve outdone yourself, Sherlock.”
“It’s about time we tried that thing, don’t you think?”
“The skull? You want to test it on yourself without even being sure of what it does?”
“It can’t be bad.”
“Why?”
“Because old Dorian Blackwell was just dying to try it.”
“For all we know, it could fry your brain, amigo.”
“Too late…”
“You have a point.”
“First chance we get with just you, me, and Danica, let’s try it just enough to see if we’re right. You can be my bodyguard if things don’t go well.”
“Agreed. Here’s comes the results on the dead man’s documents.”
We leaned in closer to the engineering station display, as the data scrolled down the screen.
“Bingo,” said R.J. “He’s from the CD-48 11069 system. I’ve seen that on a star chart we bartered from the Decrilians.”
“The Decrilians? Have I heard about them?”
“Not yet. They’re bipeds, but they have heads a little like insects. It’s very discomforting to be around them.”
“When the hell did that all happen?”
“About a month and a half into your disappearance. They were a big help. I was asking them about slavery. They said anyone wishing to purchase slaves might want to visit there. But that’s a long story. If I remember correctly, the CD-48 11069 system is only a couple days away at P9. The locals call a certain planet there XiTau.”
“Let us not waste time. Would you set it up and send it on to the flight director? I’ll fill Danica in.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“You people need to stop calling me that.”
“It’s a childish need for parental authority.”
“For Pete’s sake.”
The sampling party returned a short time later with a variety of Enrika leaves, soil, and rock. Each was carefully sealed in a clear rectangle of monolite, then proudly displayed on the conference table. Danica and Catherine could not stop talking about the still-frame world they had just witnessed. Their photos and videos gave little indication of the surrealism of the place.
When the nav computer finally alerted us with the newest flight plan, and a short time later the flight director concurred, we strapped in and rose up from our newly found shadow-box planet. At three hundred miles, we wasted no time in turning the spacecraft over to the flight director for the transition to light. At cruise, I begged off from Danica and went back for a drink of water. R.J. was waiting in ambush for me in the galley.
“There’s one thing, Adrian. It’s my job to mention it.”
“What’s that?”
“Both you and Danica have busted through the thirty-hour mark. Neither of you is supposed to act as pilot in command until you put in a full sleep shift.”
“You want to stop and hang here in space while we sleep?”
“That’s not what I had in mind, no. I can take the command chair.”
“How’s that?”
“Yeah. All those months that you were gone, flight instructor Danica gave me a crash course. It was the only way we could keep going with a single pilot.”
“Wow! How many hours did you log while I was gone?”
“Counting hands-on instruction time, 750 hours as PIC.”
“By gosh, I’m proud of you. You thinking about getting licensed when we get back to Earth or something?”
“Not really. Here in space, sitting in the command chair is like 98 percent mental. But to get licensed on Earth, as you know, you’ve got to fly atmospheric. I’m not so hot about the idea of being that close to the ground, where you must not make a mistake lest the ground rise up and smite thee, you know?”
“Hey, trust me, even when you’re flying an ultralight, it’s still 90 percent brain, 10 percent moving controls.”
“I’ll think about it, but I don’t know…”
“So you’re ordering the two of us to bed then? I knew you’d make captain some day.”
“This is actually the second time, Kemosabi, if you recall the Nadir mission.”
“I’m still trying to forget that three-hour tour. But okay, by your command I shall commit myself to my sleeper cell and will not come out until all criteria are met. You may take over from Danica and send her to her room as well.”
“I knew I’d get the last word someday.”
Chapter 22
It was slightly after midnight when an unexpected tapping woke me in my sleeper cell. Someone faintly knocking on my door. I opened it halfway to find Danica in rocket ship pajamas, standing there staring at me.
“Can I sleep with you?”
“What!?”
“Just sleep. No carnal knowledge, Dad.”
“I’m way not old enough to be your dad.”
“I had a bad dream and I just got lonely all of a sudden. It almost never happens.”
“Well, okay. Just remember, I’m way not old enough to be your dad.”
She looked left and right to be sure no one was watching, then climbed up over me and nestled herself in alongside.
“Thanks. I won’t be a bother. I don’t thrash around or anything.”
“What got to you?”
“I started thinking how life on Earth is passing me by while I spend all my time in space. It’s where I want to be, but it’s like there’s another Danica who could be living on Earth doing all those things normal people do. Maybe I’m missing out.”
“Oh, you mean like 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, a two-car garage, kitchen with island, TV in every room?”
“Keep going. I’m feeling better already.”
I braced one hand behind my head. “Maybe what you need is a knockdown drag out love affair. That cured me.”
“Really? You?”
“Yeah, it was a long time ago. The girl had me thinking it was all locked up, a done deal. One day she sort of won the lottery. Next day she was with mister tall and handsome. I was history. That’s when I realized there’s no such thing as the perfect marriage with two-point-five children, white picket fence, TV in every room, two floaters in the garage.”
Danica muted her laugh, “Grandchildren on your knee, Vera, Chuck, and Dave?”
“Where have I heard that?”
“One of R.J.’s old music albums.”
“So all fantasy life styles now ruined for you?”
“Lucky I had you to visit. I’ve always looked up to you like a father, you know.”
“Hey, I keep telling you, I’m way not old enough to be your father.”
“I know. I know. It’s just that… What the hell is that?”
“I’m way not old enough to be your father
.”
“Is that all you? My god!”
“Hey!”
“You have nothing on under there? Oh my… You don’t!”
“Please, you’re killing me.”
Suddenly Danica Donoro became someone else. She pushed on top of me and stared down with a look I had never seen. “We both need therapy,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
“But you said no….”
All chivalry immediately lost. The wrestling began. The rational human mind put aside. The reward-driven exchange instantly in complete control. Occasional suppressed sounds of passion driving the silent agreement further with each movement.
To my surprise, it did not end with a single merging. It began again immediately thereafter. A determination to reap all that was available from the impropriety. The awkwardness that might be waiting afterward, of no consequence at all. We slept finally, pasted together as one.
When I awoke the next morning, she had managed to slip away without waking me. I had not slept that well in a very long time. Then came a flush of embarrassment about the whole thing. Then the thought that Catherine and Patrick had been in the cell opposite us probably doing the same thing. Then came the absurd thought that maybe thrusters had been firing to stop the ship from rocking.
When I finally had the nerve to open my cell door, the ship was brightly lit and busy. I could hear someone working out in the gym, and voices coming from the galley. I kicked my way into flight coveralls and dared another look out. The coast was as clear as it would ever be. Slipping out, I spied Catherine and Patrick balancing cups and taking seats at the conference table. In a most nonchalant manner, I wandered out to the galley and fussed over a coffee of my own. The two at the table noticed and became slightly uncomfortable.
“Eight hours! That’s a record for you, Adrian,” said Patrick.
“Slept like a baby too. Did I miss anything?”
“Mr. Smith has the helm, Captain. He seems to be doing a sterling job,” said Catherine coyly.
“I’ve got to get people to stop calling me that. You powder monkeys swab the deck when you’re done, and make fast the mainsail. I’d better go check on the helmsman.”