by Thomas Stone
Another early evening, thought Harry as Kathleen led Yoni out of the cafeteria. People stared after them. One man made a cruel comment about bringing animals into the common spaces. One look from Harry and he shut up.
*
Later, when the entire team was crammed into the airlock and waiting for decompression, Harry was still thinking about how people reacted to Yoni. They assumed he was an animal, something like a super-chimp. Although the behaviorists treated him with clinical empathy, they too treated him as a specimen, an oddity. But the boy wasn't an animal. Primitive, yes, but that may not have entirely been the Bedorans' fault.
Peering through a window in the pressure hatch, Jeb gave a thumbs-up to the waiting technician. A loud hissing filled the compartment, then gradually faded as the air pressure dropped to zero. The outer hatch opened and stars twinkled against a black backdrop.
It was a standard training exercise, designed to re-qualify everyone for extravehicular activity and to give them time in their custom-designed environment suits. Harry looked over everybody.
"Okay, team up and check each other's suits."
Jareem was closest to Harry. The black man from the Bronx gave Harry a quick look-over and Harry returned the favor. When everybody was ready, they hooked up to the tether and proceeded single-file outside the airlock. Jeb took the lead and Harry followed behind in the last place.
Jareem was still in the airlock, in front of Harry, when something happened. It was out of Harry's sight, but he heard the gasp over the radio circuit, then someone called to him.
He pushed Jareem through the airlock in time to see Jeb loose from the tether and spinning out of control away from the station. Frantically, Jeb struggled to reach for the loose air hose while the crew could only watch. In seconds, Jeb Stuart was dead.
Chapter 13
"It's a rotten shame. Stuart was a good man. Still, these things happen." Kendrix, chief of operations for all survey missions, got up and walked to the port window. "I've got a man for you, a replacement for Stuart."
"Jeez, Kendrix, Jeb's not even cold yet."
"It's important that we keep to our original schedule. Orders come down from on high, Harry. I just do what I'm told. And what I'm told to do is ramrod this next mission through."
"Why is the company in such a damned hurry?"
"I am only a conduit, Harry."
"All right, all right. Who is this guy you're forcing on me?"
"I think you know him. He's been with us for ten years. Name's Jim Burke."
Harry knew him all right. He'd shipped out with the prick maybe eight years ago. The guy was a tight ass, a real company man. He lived to wear the Braithwaite logo. Competent up to a point, he spouted Corporation procedures whenever he was asked to solve a problem. Harry was surprised he was still around.
"This is not the guy I'd pick."
"Maybe not, but he's got all Stuart's qualifications and more. C'mon Harry, I don't want to argue about this. We don't have time to wait for somebody you like. Try being professional about this." Kendrix leaned closer. "The old man's keeping a close eye on you, Harry. There're rumors about you, you know. They're wondering if you're all there." He tapped his skull.
Harry sighed and shrugged. "They already put me through the wringer and didn't find anything."
"That's not what I heard."
All gentleness dropped from Harry's voice. "If you've got doubts about me, Mr. Kendrix, perhaps you'd better voice them right now. I'm getting a little tired of what I'm hearing."
Kendrix held up his hands. "Take it easy, pal, I didn't mean anything. As far as I can tell, you seem fine." An uneasy silence passed between the two men. Kendrix finally spoke up again.
"Just play along, Harry. Take Burke to the Bedoran system, make your survey, and get back in one piece. Any questions they might have about you will blow over by then. If you refuse to take Burke, well, some people will use that as an excuse."
"An excuse for what?"
"That something's wrong with you, that you can't follow orders, can't get along anymore."
"If I want to go back out, looks like I don't have much of a choice."
Kendrix didn't say anything, but Harry knew the man agreed.
An hour later, Harry met Burke in the officer's lounge. He was just as Harry remembered. Crewcut and tall with a straight back even while sitting, Jim Burke was the type who never loosened his collar. Probably buttons the top button on his pajamas, Harry thought. Strictly a Corporation man, Burke wore his uniform as one might wear his ego. The man was proud of his position.
"Good morning, Commander Irons." Burke didn't offer his hand and neither did Harry. "I understand we're going back to the Bedoran system."
"That's correct," said Harry. "We intend to help what's left of the Bedorans and then conduct a standard survey for the remainder of the system."
"Sounds simple enough."
Harry looked askance at the man. Rarely did a survey mission turn out to be simple. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many unknown variables. Harry already didn't like Burke. The man's attitude merely reinforced Harry's feelings. "Yeah, well, that remains to be seen."
"I understand you've had some previous experience with the Bedorans."
Of course, he did, thought Harry. Everyone in Corporation Survey knew about Harry's previous contact; it was in all the history books.
"Maybe we can gain some insight as to the whereabouts of Fagen. According to the reports, that's where he was headed, isn't it?"
"That was fifteen years ago. I doubt if he's still alive."
The corners of Burke's mouth moved upward. "Well, it's not really Fagen the Corporation's interested in, is it? I mean, it's the alien ship that's important."
"I suppose so, but that doesn't alter the fact that the Bedorans are starving and that the star system remains unsurveyed. As I said before, our primary mission is twofold. I don't want any of the crew to think we're going after an enemy of the Braithwaite Corporation. It might distract them."
Burke held up his hand. "Say no more. I think we've reached an understanding." He winked at Harry. "There's another thing."
"What's that?"
Burke shrugged and looked away. "I've heard you've had an encounter with a kitzloc."
"Yes, what of it?"
Burke stared. "Well, I was concerned about your state of mind. I hope you're up to..."
"I'm fine," snapped Harry. "I've been checked out and given a full bill of health. You can look up my records, if you want."
"I already have, as well as the records of the rest of the crew."
Burke was going to be a royal pain. Harry would have to watch his back constantly. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
"No," said Burke, rising from his seat, "except the departure date."
"They haven't told me yet."
"Oh really? A little unusual, don't you think?" Before Harry could answer, Burke continued. "Well, I've heard our ship's outfitted and waiting. Provided there are no surprises, I expect we'll be gone day after tomorrow."
Now, why, Harry wondered, would they have told the Co-commander without informing the Commander? He stared after Burke as the man walked out of the lounge. More survey personnel drifted in and the bar buzzed with ambition and plans. Those in the service were an independent lot, looking for wealth and fame. If they survived, their future was assured. Three trips out and a man could live in wealth for the remainder of his life. Those who chose to remain in the service were most often filled with desire and duty, and not a little radical in their devotion to the company. But even Burke was an extremist. He would do whatever the company told him to do. Harry would have to be very careful around him.
As it turned out, Burke was right. When Harry returned to his quarters, there were messages waiting for him. The first was from Survey Command, informing Harry that departure would take place in approximately thirty-six hours. The next two messages were from his family, wondering when Harry was return
ing to Earth for a visit. There was an ad asking him to change telephone services and a call from Ms. Roan who simply asked how he was feeling. The last message was from Kathleen. Over the speaker, she sounded out of breath, almost desperate.
"Harry, call me as soon as you get in. It's urgent." That was all.
Harry pushed a button on the autodialer and Kathleen's number was dialed. It rang once before she answered.
"Yes?"
"It's me," said Harry. "What's so urgent?"
"It's Yoni."
"What about him?"
"He's not acting right. He's sullen, depressed I think."
"I'm not surprised. The newness of the adventure's grown old. He wants to go home."
"That's not all."
"Well?"
"I don't know if we should talk about it over the phone, but the word's out that they want to keep him here. I think they want to dissect him."
"All right. Take it easy. They're not going to dissect anybody."
"They took tissue samples today."
"That's not so bad..."
"Harry, they took muscle samples and even some of his stomach lining!"
"Okay, okay. Let's get together and talk about this. Say, in ten minutes?"
"Yes, okay. We'll be here."
Harry hung up. So, the Corporation had decided it had gotten all the information from the Bedoran boy it could glean. Now they wanted to take a look inside. First, tissue samples, then who could say? Something had to be done. The boy wasn't a survey sample to be treated like an ordinary moon rock. He was a sentient being. And perhaps even more, he was the son of a dead friend.
Yoni greeted Harry at the door, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and pressing his face into Harry's shirt.
"He's been acting like this for the past couple of days," explained Kathleen. "He won't let me out of his sight. You're going to have a hard time getting out of here."
Harry staggered to the couch and fell back into it. Yoni remained plastered to him. The boy wasn't silent, though. He let Harry know exactly what he wanted.
"Take me back, Harry," Yoni said. "I'm ready to go back. I'm sorry I came without asking first. Please take me back. Now." Yoni sat up straight and raised the shirt he wore. On his furry belly was a shaved area with a sterile dressing in the center. "They hurt me, Harry."
"I'm sorry, Yoni. I promise you, I'll do something about this." Harry looked at Kathleen. "Did you understand what I said?"
"Yes. But what can we do?"
Without answering, Harry reached into a pocket and drew out a tonal generator. Twisting the top first, he set the palm-sized device on the table. A single note rose from the gadget and split into two, then four, varying tones. It wasn't unpleasant and almost sounded like music, except that the harmonic modulations were designed to help disrupt electronic listening devices. Harry didn't have to raise his voice to be heard.
"You never know with the company. The walls have ears."
"So," Kathleen observed, "you came prepared. You have an idea."
Harry nodded. "My departure time has been set: the day after tomorrow. To Bedor, but we already knew that."
"So you can take Yoni with you?"
"Well, officially, no, but if he was to somehow stow away... I mean, he did it once, I suppose he could do it again."
"Do you think they'll buy it?"
"Not a chance. But if they don't have the proof, there's not much anybody can do about it. Now, here's what I've got in mind..." Harry laid out the plan and worked the details out with Kathleen. Somewhere, in the course of the evening, Yoni curled up in Kathleen's lap and went to sleep.
She lifted up the alien boy and put him in his small bed. Returning to the couch, she sat beside Harry. Casually, he put his arm around her shoulders. Kathleen closed her eyes and nestled in the crook of his arm.
"It'll work," she murmured, "I'm sure it will. I just wish it was over."
"Soon enough," Harry said. He nuzzled her hair and gently kissed her on the temple. The pulse of her heart throbbed with life and Harry felt it as he savored the simple pleasure of being with the woman he loved. He drew in the scent of her hair and smelled her essence, understanding even deeper the woman who sat beside him.
She had a playful nature and a great love of life. It had always been apparent but Harry had never understood it quite as deeply before. She loved him, he knew that as well, and he loved her in return.
He snapped out of his trance as he realized she had fallen asleep. Only then did he begin to wonder just how deeply the kitzloc had affected him. The experiences were psychic; a connection made with other living things, but only an approximation could be put into words. Furthermore, there was less discomfort; no buzzing in the head, no headache afterward. The seizures had become infrequent. Each time one occurred, he told himself it was probably the last. Now, he admitted, the sessions were becoming fascinating and deeply satisfying in a way that was like scratching an itch within one's soul. Furthermore, he was beginning to understand how to turn it on and off.
In the morning, Harry rose early and attended to his scheduled duties. This entailed briefings with his crew for the better part of the day. Late in the afternoon, they broke out of the last pre-launch meeting.
To no one in particular, Serge said, "Dog limps into a bar, leans against the rail. Says, I'm looking for the man who shot my paw."
Nobody laughed. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Okay," Serge said, unfazed, "how about this one? What do you get when you cross a charged ion with a tachyon? Give up? A window with a view. Get it?"
Nobody wanted to say they didn't get it. Instead, Jareem turned and said, "It's too hard to be funny."
Dr. Ferguson laughed at that.
Burke clapped his hands. "Okay, people! We can load our personal gear now. Remember, no more than 100 kilos. Get your stuff, stow it, and be at the banquet room by oh-eighteen hundred."
Burke faced Harry. "Need a hand with your stuff, Commander?"
"No," said Harry, "Most of everything I need is already aboard. I can get the rest by myself. Thanks anyway."
Instead of returning to his quarters, Harry went directly to the docking bay. From the windows lining the corridor, Harry could see the new starship the Corporation had assigned to him. Having been out for only three previous voyages the Grunwald was in good condition. Spotlights lit its sleek lines against the blackness of space. Besuited technicians flew around the great stern engines, constantly inspecting and checking, nearly up to the moment of detachment from the station.
He arrived at the docking bay and stepped through the rounded pressure hatch. Previously, it was filled with equipment and supplies. Now, everything was packed away inside the Grunwald and the bay stood empty, save for the figure standing near the ship access airlock.
Kathleen called as he approached. "I brought your duffel." The thick bag sat on the floor beside her.
Without glancing at the surveillance cameras, he said, "This is a nice surprise! Are you going to help me carry that inside?" He motioned at the bag.
"If you think you need it."
By then, he had crossed the deck to where Kathleen stood. For show, he glanced about, then took Kathleen in his arms. He kissed her deeply and they clung together for a long, lingering a moment before parting. Reluctantly, Harry turned her loose and picked up the bag. Lending a hand, Kathleen took one end. Together, they carried the bag inside the starship and deposited it into the Commander's cabin.
Chapter 14
The wormhole was a fluctuating mass of energy, a thread of warp space with interconnecting tentacles that ran through space for billions of light years. Streaks of jagged electricity hundreds of kilometers long played along its hazy edges. One hundred and twenty-five artificial satellites, distributed at even intervals outside the hole's circumference, helped to keep the hole stable by maintaining powerful magnetic fields.
Incomplete studies on the wormhole yielded numbers that some scientists claimed to indicate the hole w
as dissipating. The fact had yet to be proved, but the Corporation did conduct business in a more frenzied manner, as if they suspected the scientists were correct.
In any case, everyone was assured the wormhole would last many more years before it disappeared altogether and opened up in some other, random place.
The Grunwald accelerated as it approached the opening. Proper velocity was attained just prior to entrance and the ship disappeared into the portal without incident.
Co-commander Burke turned from his control console to report all systems were functioning normally.
"No reason to believe otherwise," piped Serge. He patted the console. "This baby'll fly circles around the best. We're on our way. Approximately twenty hours in the hole before we pop out the other side."
"Then seventeen more hours in transit under impulse power until we enter Bedoran space," said Harry. "Jim, you can knock off until the next watch. I'll remain on the bridge with Serge. Everybody else is free to do whatever they want."
Serge's eyebrow's danced comically.
"Within reason," added Harry.
"If it's all right with you, Commander, I'd prefer to take the first watch."
"Negative, Jim. You can stick around for awhile, but I want you rested for the next watch."
Burke said nothing. Harry looked at his Co-commander. "Is there a specific reason you'd like to take the first watch?"
"No, I'm just not tired. With your permission, I'd like to run diagnostics tests on the off-line systems."
Harry shrugged. "Knock yourself out. Just remember to get some sleep before twenty-two hundred."
Burke made Harry nervous. Sure, he had all the qualifications, but his social skills needed work. Harry wondered what was going on in the man's head. Well, wasn’t it obvious? The company had forced Harry to take him, therefore Burke was a company watchdog. His loyalty was to the Braithwaite Corporation, and probably nothing else. It didn't matter. The Grunwald was Harry's ship and, like sea captains of old, his word was law.