He Without Sin

by Hyde, Ed

  We head out to the flyer; Brachus is there waiting for us. He looks at me but does not nod or otherwise greet me. Instead he climbs into the transport. I get an alert and ‘Bevan’ shows up on my genie ID with an urgent flag. “Hold up guys, let me get this.”

  “Hey J, I’m comin’ to base camp to see you, mate.”

  “No can do, I am leaving right now and don’t know when I will be back. Out a few days, more than likely.”

  “Belay that. Orders from the top. Need your undivided attention. On my way down. See you in a bit.”

  And he’s gone, just like that. I am not sure what this means but hesitate to take off and instead say, “Guys, I just got an urgent message from Grigor. He’s on his way down from the ship right now. Don’t know what it’s about, but he says he needs to see me.”

  Mark answers, “No problem. Wesley has to go; I’ll take him now. Between the four or five of us down there, I’ll load up as much salvageable material as I can. You can take the next flight out if you want. I’ll set it up. Porter’s your man.”

  I’m telling you, I sometimes think Mark should be running the show. He knows how to make a decision and it sounds like the right one to me. I head from the landing area back to the camp proper, get a cup of Porter’s ‘burnin’ fire’ from the mess hall, and head over to Mark’s work area waiting for Grigor. There is always something interesting to see there. I’ve learned it’s best not to touch anything.

  ______

  “Hey, Cap’n! There you are. Permission to come aboard granted!” I hear when entering the crowded workshop. It serves as a sort of control center for production and fab, as an inventory storehouse, and as the primary work area for Mark. There is a wide array of parts, assemblies, tools, and test equipment on the several workbenches.

  “Oh, Hi. I didn’t realize…” I start, taken aback at finding the shop occupied. “Is that Goodwin? Sorry, hello…”

  “Al is fine, just fine. The wizard is out. You are Jay. It’s a bit rough in here. How are your sea legs?”

  “Sea…?” I notice Alain is weaving somewhat as he speaks. And he’s carrying a beat up cup. “I am good Alain… Al. How are you?”

  “Oh, that Mark’s a wizard and I am fine, just fine. A sip for you?” he asks, indicating the cup. And then, “Ah, you needs yer own mug. Yer own mug fer sher. Yer own… Here we go. Be right back Cap’n!” He says merrily, weaving his way farther into the shop.

  I can guess what sort of ‘production’ Mark has branched out into now. When Goodwin returns I take a sniff and small sip. At least it’s not the horrible concoction that Mark makes for himself.

  “Here’s to you and to me and all the ships at sea in this godforsaken ocean of stars!” We drink, my sip and his gulp.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Emergency, emergency. Brought the ore tram in. Big rush. Heard Davy got jumped by Al. Not me, the other Al.” Alain finds this comment amusing and chuckles a moment. “I am fittingly paid for my troubles howsomever.” Another gulp. “Have a seat,” he continues and begins to push clear an area on the bench nearest him.

  “I wouldn’t…” I start, but then decide to keep quiet.

  “Ho, neither would I if I were me!” he says, as he sits with his rear end half on the bench. “That fixes it. Now, there’s a seat for you. The waves are rogue t’day.” I sit in an adjacent chair and we face each other. Another sip for me.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  “I say again – that’s a wizard you’ve got here. To Mister Mark!” he shouts. “Me on the other hand…” and he has another drink.

  “How’s it going out there?”

  “Out there? Oh! It goes. It goes all right. It goes.” His face and neck are flushed red. “I’ll tell ya, it’s wine, women, and song. That’s what it is. Ha!”

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, it’s right all right. It’s right…” he says, trailing off at the end but looking steadily at me. “That’s what it is.” Suddenly serious, he adds quietly and firmly, “You’ve got yer wizard and me… We… we’ve got our bastard.”

  I don’t respond. Alain takes another drink and continues, louder now, returning to his earlier mood, “Ah but should the sea toss me about roughly t’day, I shall hold and hold on ‘til tomorrow! Pipe me ashore Cap’n as I seek shelter before we break deep and take water.”

  “But…”

  “I must go. I may have tripped over the line.”

  “You mean…”

  “I mean the line that ev’ry seaman must learn the hard way. It’s drawn at the bottom of yer mug there. Shall you take more?”

  I shake my head. He drains his cup and carries it with him as he leaves.

  _______

  “Hey mate, how you keepin’?”

  “Not bad Grigor, not bad at all. You found me! What can I do for you?”

  “The question is, what can you do for me?” Grigor replies as he puts his communicator and other key portable electronics on the worktable in Mark’s area.

  “What, are you quitting?” I joke. “Give me your card and archive then,” I say, hand out, smiling. No smiles from Grigor.

  “Not kidding. Rumor says my connections and links are crossed and wrong. Data lost, data corrupt, audio garbled. All of it ready for the dustbin.”

  I see that he is not kidding and start over. “Rumor? What rumor? What are you talking about?” We walk over to my quarters, bringing his equipment with us.

  “Direct order from the former Master Manipulator: he says to get with you to get my comms straightened out ASAP. You should know.”

  I begin basic inspection and tests while absorbing this information.

  “Master…? Oh, David you mean. Is he involved? What do you mean, ‘I should know’? What sort of problem did he have? Was he trying to reach you? Where is he anyway? I’m in the dark here.”

  “Easy big fella, easy. One at a time. He came down with me, but has gone who knows where. He’s been holed up up there staring at his readout doing fuck-all since he became one of the walking wounded. He’s all depressed. Remember what we talked about? Remember? See where it got him?” Grigor sits and watches me closely as I run unit-to-unit checks: memory, error logs—all the usual. “Don’t even erase the memory on that device or anywhere else of mine.”

  “Might have to but I will warn you first. We’ll back it all up.”

  “So he says that you talked to the Weasel, Weasely talks to him, fearless leader talks to me, and here we are. Fix it.”

  All of a sudden I get it and stop working. I reset his devices to normal operation and hand them back.

  “There is nothing wrong, you are good to go.”

  “Are you sure, mate? The Weasel told David he couldn’t reach me, was getting crosstalk, everything all messed up. I sent him test messages right after, no response.”

  “You are fine. I never talked to Brachus about you, your equipment, or anything like this. He’s lying and I know it but I don’t know why.” Grigor grumbles and is not happy but I remind him that the “wanker,” as he says, is Brachus, not me. He, Brachus, wanted to get Mark alone for some reason and he’s done it. “If it makes you feel any better he never responds to me either,” I say.

  David says tear it down; Brachus says leave it up. At least part of it. He wants the central area and perimeter secure, but most of the testing hardware out. And where is David now? Not a word. He’s been spending his time up and down between his ship and base camp quarters. I mentioned his two personalities before; now there’s another one— sullen and withdrawn. I hear he spent a lot of time at first with Doc right after the “accident” as he now calls it. He’s been spotted in the med lab with Doc discussing genetics again during his recovery exercises. Once, in his quarters here at base camp, I caught him deep in thought while poring over what looked like endless code on his screen. He didn’t seem to hear my attempts to get his attention until maybe the third or fourth try. I don’t like it. I’d rather have mercurial David than sullen
David. We talked some.

  We talked a bit about the bio camp and he seems happy with what he’s heard about the changes. He’s not countermanding any of it. Salvage and teardown are complete. Al and his girl are booted out. Brachus has set up, in the valley near the natural entrance to the area, along with existing cams and detectors, a combination of lights and speakers to frighten off any would-be visitors of the hominid variety. The outer perimeter and the central camp wall have both been beefed up. The garden and orchard have been expanded.

  David has not given up on his experiment, believe it or not. He has faith that the genome of Alpha and Beta will supply enough of a pool of desired traits if only they can reproduce enough. He says he had Dylan go and talk to them before the final goodbye and explain that they are on their own, with a stern warning not to return to the test area. He administered, via shared food, the necessary chemicals to enable reproduction. With their long life spans he, David, thinks it will all work out in the end; that he will have engineered a significant step forward for this planet’s population.

  My visits to the old bio camp, now Brachus’ resort villa, it seems, have been uneventful. I see some of the medical equipment is staying. Oh, the cams and remote units haven’t been going on the fritz as I first thought. No, of course not. They are being reconfigured to their private channel. What’s the big secret? I have a feeling it’s just me Brachus wants to keep in the dark. I haven’t confronted David about this.

  One thing that has worked out, since I am not spending nearly as much time as before away from base, is that Carol and I have had a lot more time together. She’s been working her shipboard equipment remotely and has been mapping the planet in detail for many variables while recording global metrics. She and Mark are working together to pinpoint more sites rich with materials we need.

  Part III

  Opinions

  “I told him it doesn’t work like that,” Dylan says, recounting his recent conversation with David, “after he told me Al and Bee had no reason not to be content with the way things were.”

  “‘They had it made; they blew it’, he said,” Dylan continues. “I told David ‘No, they didn’t blow it. They were acting normally. Wouldn’t you try to see what was going on behind the wall if you were them?’ I asked.”

  We are outside the central camouflaged wall heading toward the perimeter of the bio area, down along the stream. Dylan lowers his voice and continues, “He was getting upset so I didn’t even try to tell him the rest.”

  I see he wants to continue, but I decide against prompting him.

  “I didn’t tell him he was up against more than just natural curiosity. Someone was working against him,” he continues

  “No way!”

  “Yes way. I suspected something and saw a little bit, but it was Trace that let it out. Confirmed it. While you were having Craig and Aileen do the teaching sessions, Wes was sending his own messages to them. He was egging them on in a different direction. Not in person, but through his remote speakers and cams. I don’t believe he has any respect for these people.”

  “These people? From what I know and what you are saying, he doesn’t respect anyone and that includes David. But it does explain why he wants his activities kept private.”

  “But it’s over. They’re gone. No more Aileen, Craig, or you—at least not on a regular basis. Me, I wonder how and if they think of the time they spent here, what sort of lasting impact it will have. If any at all.”

  We walk on, heading to the end of the valley, where it narrows and the stream exits. To what is now called the gate. Beyond is the wild, wide open world—the ever more densely populated native environment.

  “Are you upset about the electronics?” he asks.

  “Which?”

  “You know, what used to be David’s,” Dylan indicates with head movement up towards one of the camouflaged cam installations. He continues, but more quietly, “Now that Lester, I mean Wesley, has taken them over? You can’t access them anymore, right?”

  “I don’t give him or them or any of it a thought any more if I can help it. David’s basically left him in charge; they’re his cams and he can do what he wants with them. Although I have a suggestion if he’s looking for one.” When I get neither a smile nor further comment I add, “David seems OK with the current situation. He feels there is still a good chance that his original work will be significant and says that even if he turns out to be wrong, if what he tried doesn’t pan out, that our basic mission objectives will nevertheless be met. Either way it’s a success.”

  “I hear things a little differently,” Dylan replies. “The word in the Resources group is that David has left fingerprints. That the changes he made were unauthorized and will be eventually discovered. They will of course be traced back to our time here during this mission. Wesley thinks this is why David’s depressed. He thinks that rather than receiving praise, David will be criticized, or worse, for his meddling, especially if the changes prove harmful or detrimental in some way.”

  “Huh. Interesting. I don’t know though. Brachus has such obscure motives; I wouldn’t be surprised if this theory isn’t somehow self-serving.”

  “No, he’s simple. He’s out for himself. Period. He judges everyone else by how much they augment his power and control.” He adds with a shy smile, “That’s why I’m not a favorite. And you’re not either.”

  “Ha, this I know and I’m good with it. About me I mean. And the feeling’s mutual.”

  We come upon an area where the stream has cut into its bank, exposing a small jumble of rocks. I pull out a couple of the native fruits I brought along from our very productive orchard and offer one to Dylan. These have a unique and delicious flavor and we decide to stop and sit for a moment. I notice that Dylan sits right down, where I take my time and scan the area carefully first.

  “You know, what you say would explain something I’ve thought about for a while. It seemed to me some time ago that Brachus was not on board with David’s plan. I don’t want to say he was actively working against him, just not trying to help more than he had to.”

  “You’re partially right. I think what he was doing during Aileen’s testing could be called actively disruptive.”

  “But why? What’s he trying to do?”

  “My opinion? I think it’s just him screwing around for fun. He couldn’t care less about training or testing. But what I don’t think you know is that he continues to sample the descendants and…”

  “Oh…?” I interrupt.

  “And,” interrupting my interruption, “he continues the telomere treatments for selected individuals. That’s what I don’t get.”

  “Is that right? Monitor I get—probably requested by the boss to track the line—but t-sessions? If that’s true, it has to be by David’s order.”

  We finish the fruit in silence and then continue our trek to the perimeter. We arrive and turn and begin to follow the border back, partway up one side of the valley. The way becomes more difficult than down along the stream. We are going to make another day-long personal inspection of the entire border—a challenging task due to the rapid growth of some of the vegetation.

  “So, how did he figure out the A/V comms links?”

  “He didn’t but one of Lester’s men, Alain, is a hot shot in that area and reconfigured them.”

  “Goodwin. I saw him just recently. We had a little talk. Interesting.”

  “Alain’s ok, but his view of all this, and I mean the whole mission, is narrow. I think he’s overwhelmed by it all. He’s a perfect match for Wesley because he doesn’t question anything. He doesn’t interact with me much either or anyone else for that matter as far as I can tell.” Dylan pauses and waits for me to stop and turn to face him. “Speaking of the overall mission…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to stay,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “Here. I’d like to stay here when this is over. I know you can’t make it happen, but I’ve been thinking: I like it here. I t
hink I could make a go and have a good life.”

  “Short life, you mean,” and I instantly regret my hasty comment. Dylan does not show offense or hurt, but then again he is a cool customer and even-tempered.

  “Maybe short by our standards, but a good one.”

  “Dylan, hold on.” I see he is serious and begin to rattle off the obvious objections. “Where do I begin? First, not gonna happen. Nobody is left behind alive. Second, no doc, no medical at all. Third, much shorter life span assuming you die of natural causes, which is not at all likely. And, and, and… the list goes on.”

  “Yes, it goes on. I know. But Jason, it’s a real life and something I want to do. And don’t say it’s a waste. There’s a lot I could teach during my time. I’d like that.”

  “Teach…? Dyl, let’s say you mean it but listen, you’re making a mistake. You are not of this planet. Yes, the chemicals and code of life are the same, you can digest the food, and there is no basic incompatibility but…”

  “But what?”

  “But look, the native populations, and I mean all the populations on the planet—animal, plant, microscopic, all—have lived and evolved right here, together, for eons. They are used to each other, for lack of a better term. And they are in a more-or-less stable equilibrium. We are not from here. Sure, we are protected by the med treatments and preventatives, the skin spray coating…”

  “Not me. I quit using it.”

  This stops me in my tracks. “Are you kidding me? When?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s been a while. You do know that lab has been testing and culturing as much of the native biota as they can. I’ve talked to Jacob about it…”

  “Jacob? Doc? You mean, he’s said it’s ok?” I ask in surprise.

  “No, he didn’t know at first. In fact he didn’t know until my last checkup. He agrees with you, that it’s a bad idea not to use the spray. But I still don’t think so. Anyway, there it is.”