Richard Russo

by Ship of Fools

  Nikos was expecting me early that morning. I had agreed to take over the alien ship’s exploration, and he wanted me to help select the new exploration teams and begin as soon as possible, but I needed to see Father Veronica first.

  I went to the cathedral, but she wasn’t there. Only Father George was.

  I found him at the far end of the cathedral, kneeling at one of the side altars, his head bowed in prayer. The candles flickered, and their dim light fluttered gently about his head. I sat quietly in a pew some distance away and waited for him to finish.

  Father George was an old man, stooped and frail. He rose awkwardly to his feet and lit several more of the candles; then he turned to me, and I realized he had heard me come in. He smiled and walked toward me.

  “Hello, Bartolomeo.”

  “Hello, Father.”

  “Prison does not appear to have harmed you much.”

  “Mostly my ego,” I said.

  Father George chuckled. “Then perhaps you have even benefited from your incarceration.” He tugged at his long white hair with bony fingers, as if his thoughts and vision were in another world, which they probably were.

  “In some ways,” I agreed.

  “What can I do for you, my son?”

  “I’m looking for Father Veronica.”

  He nodded to himself as if that was exactly what he had expected. “She’s not here. She hasn’t been here for several days.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody knows.” He hesitated, studying me. “But when she does return, I will tell her you came to see her.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind. Instead he just nodded.

  I had started down the aisle when he called to me. I turned back to him, and he was standing straighter than I had seen him in years, and his expression was grave.

  “What is it, Father?”

  “Be careful, Bartolomeo.”

  “Of what?”

  “Everything.” He paused, then repeated himself. “Everything. But especially of the alien ship.” He shook his head. “It is an evil thing, and it should be left alone. Perhaps it even comes from the Fallen One.”

  “Satan?”

  “Why not? Is that any more incredible than the notion that the ship is an artifact of an alien civilization?”

  I wanted to tell him that I didn’t believe in Satan, or the Fallen One, or whatever he might want to call it, but I didn’t see the purpose. It would be an attack on his faith, and he probably knew how I felt, anyway.

  “I’ll be careful,” I told him. “Thanks.” I turned to leave, and saw Nikos waiting for me near the cathedral’s main doors.

  “We might have a problem,” he said when I reached him.

  He was sweating and smelled faintly of alcohol; I wondered if he had developed a drinking problem while I was imprisoned. If so, I was in more trouble than I had thought.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “The bishop has called an emergency session of the Executive Council.”

  “The reason?”

  Nikos gave me a rueful smile. “You, of course.”

  21

  EVERYONE else was already in the council room when we arrived; conversation died immediately, and the tension level rose like a sudden flush of heat. I noticed one change: Geller sat in General Wainwright’s place.

  Nikos and I stood together just inside the door. The bishop watched us, his expression composed, but he could not hide the edge in his voice as he spoke.

  “Bartolomeo should not be here. He is the subject of this emergency session.”

  “That is exactly why he is here,” Nikos replied. “I’m not certain what the issue is with Bartolomeo, or what suggestions will be made concerning his fate, but he should be here to argue his side.”

  “No,” the bishop insisted. “We need to be able to speak frankly and openly. His presence makes that more difficult.”

  “I agree with Captain Costa,” Geller said. “Bartolomeo should be allowed to stay, and should be allowed to speak for himself when necessary.”

  “If that is a motion,” added Margita Cardenas, “I will second it.”

  Everyone waited for Nikos to confirm the motion from Geller, then call for discussion and a vote. But Nikos remained silent, staring back at the bishop.

  Bishop Soldano nodded once, and this time when he spoke the edge was gone from his voice; however, it was replaced not by resignation but by the patience of a predator biding its time. “I don’t think a vote is necessary. I defer to my fellow council members. Let the man stay.” He paused. “But I will insist that he sits at the foot of the table, and not in his customary position as Captain Costa’s adviser.”

  Nikos took his seat at the head of the table, and I sat at the foot. He formally opened the meeting, but no one spoke for a long time. I felt surprisingly calm. What could they do to me? Imprison me again? That was unlikely, and I knew it.

  Finally Nikos turned to the bishop. “Bishop, you called this emergency session. You should begin.”

  “I will. That man,” the bishop said as he gestured at me, “has been summarily released along with the other leaders of the mutiny. This was done without any discussion in the council, and without notice.”

  “As captain of the Argonos,” Nikos broke in, “I have the authority to do so.”

  “You have the authority to commute sentences, and to issue pardons. Since there were no trials, and no convictions or sentences, there was nothing to commute, and there is some question about whether or not you can pardon someone for offenses they have not yet been convicted of. We have seen no formal records or proceedings, Captain. I ask now that you tell us what you have done, and why.”

  Nikos appeared to be self-assured and relaxed. “I have neither commuted any nonexistent sentences, nor have I issued any pardons. The ship registrar has a record of the orders. I simply released Aguilera and the others with Captain’s Directives, pending further proceedings. The charges remain.”

  The bishop shrugged, as if he wasn’t completely surprised by the captain’s remarks. “I do not dispute their release,” he said. “I merely wanted to note that I had concerns about the legalities. My primary objection is that you did not consult the council. Assuming you had the authority to take the actions you did, you were not required to consult us. However, I believe that you have an ethical, if not legal, obligation to do so on matters of this importance. We deserve the opportunity to advise, to register objections, to understand your reasoning. And I would like a sense of the council’s thoughts on the matter. I think you should have a sense of the council’s thoughts.”

  “You called an emergency session for this?” Nikos asked. “This is not a matter of urgency. It could have waited until our next session, which is only three days from today.”

  “There is more,” the bishop said. “A more urgent matter. I understand Bartolomeo is to head a new team on further excursions to the alien vessel.”

  There was a long silence. The council members were trying to figure out what, if anything, was to follow. Susanna Hingen was the first to speak, glancing first at me, then turning to Nikos.

  “Is that true, Captain?”

  “Yes,” Nikos answered. “I don’t see the problem. I have decided to put Bartolomeo in charge. We need a fresh approach, and I believe Bartolomeo is the best person to do that.”

  “The problem is obvious,” said the bishop. “Bartolomeo Aguilera is, as you have just stated for the record, still charged with treason. To place him in such a position of authority is a serious breach of responsibility.”

  Nikos didn’t have an answer to that. It was clear to me that he had not thought through the various consequences of his actions.

  “I would like to speak,” I said. Everyone turned to look at me, and the expressions were a mix of annoyance (the bishop, Costino, even the captain), puzzlement (Michel Tournier, Susanna Hingen), and interest (T
oller, Cardenas, Aiyana, and Geller). When no one objected, I went on.

  “This entire matter can be simply resolved,” I said. “Until now, I was not aware that the charge of treason is still outstanding. Frankly, I don’t wish to be set free with that charge unresolved, knowing that at any time I can be thrown back into a cell. I formally request, as a matter of due process, that the charges of treason against me, and against the others who were imprisoned, be dropped, or that you proceed immediately with a trial or other proceeding.” I paused for a moment, glancing around me; before anyone could reply, I resumed. “I’d like to make my own case right now for the charges being dropped.”

  Attention turned to the bishop and the captain, who glanced at each other. Nikos was trapped; he had not expected anything like this, and I know he did not want his hold over me taken away, but he would be forced to advocate my position.

  “Bishop?” Nikos asked.

  The bishop appeared to be weighing the consequences, and eventually said, “I have no objections. I doubt that this can be resolved as simply as Bartolomeo suggests, but I am certainly willing to hear him present his case.”

  There were no objections from anyone else—a lot of nodding and shrugging, still some puzzlement. Michel Tournier, in particular, appeared bewildered by what was happening.

  “Go ahead,” Nikos said to me.

  “It wasn’t treason,” I began.

  “Then what was it?” Costino asked.

  “A bid for freedom.”

  Costino snorted and Susanna Hingen shook her head, smiling.

  “Why do you think it is that the downsiders want to leave the Argonos? With what we found on Antioch, did that world look like a new Paradise? A new Garden of Eden?” I looked at the bishop. “Which would be your area of expertise.” I paused, but he didn’t respond except to narrow his eyes.

  “They want freedom,” I resumed. “They want the same freedom you or I have and which we deny them.”

  Tournier started to protest, but I cut him off with a look, as surprised by the power of it to quiet him as he was.

  “We deny them freedom. They are servants to us, to this ship. They are little more than slaves.”

  “You’re being melodramatic,” said the bishop. “You exaggerate their situation.”

  “Perhaps. But not much, and you can’t argue the general proposition. You can leave the ship any time you want. They cannot. And why not? Because it is convenient for us to have them serve us, do the scut work on this ship, work the ag rooms and the fabrication plants, toil in the detox tunnels, and grind away in the drive engines. To do whatever we do not wish to do ourselves.

  “Are we better people than they are? Are we superior beings? No, though some of you may think so. We are only more fortunate. We are fortunate to have been born topside, while they were born downside.

  “Treason? No. And this is the important thing: they did nothing to threaten the Argonos, nor any one of you. They would have gone quietly, without fuss, without harming anyone.

  “That is why I chose to help them. They deserved the chance we would not give them.”

  When I was finished, half of the council members were no longer looking at me. I had no idea how things would go. The captain sat at the head of the table, his chin resting on his fists, staring at me with partially closed eyes.

  Margita Cardenas was the first to speak. “Bartolomeo is right. We probably bear a certain amount of responsibility for what happened. I move that the charges against Bartolomeo Aguilera, and the others involved in the attempted mutiny, be dropped.”

  Most of the council members were silently trying to gauge which way the dynamics were flowing. Then the bishop surprised us all.

  “I would second the Cardenas motion. I find, surprisingly, that I am somewhat persuaded by Bartolomeo’s argument. More than that, however, there are practical reasons.” He glanced sidelong at Nikos. “The downsiders are causing trouble, they’re in a state of permanent, quiet rebellion. Dropping the charges could help defuse the situation, since nothing our captain has done has been effective.”

  Nikos seemed stunned, but he gathered himself and finally asked, “Is there discussion of the motion?”

  Heads turned, council members looking at one another, but no one said a thing.

  “Call the question,” the bishop said.

  Nikos did. They all voted in favor except for Michel Tournier and Costino. Tournier did not concern me, but I would remember Costino’s vote; I took it as a warning. There were others, I knew, who were dead set against me, but they were too smart to tip their hands.

  “This does not resolve the second issue,” the bishop said once the vote was recorded. “Just because the charges have been dropped does not mean that putting Bartolomeo in charge of the exploration team is wise.” He turned to the captain. “I would like to know why you think it’s a good move. I fail to see Bartolomeo’s expertise here.”

  “Who does have the expertise for exploring an alien starship?” Nikos asked. “Has anyone on this entire ship been trained for it? No. Does anyone have any experience? No. Bartolomeo Aguilera is a man who has provided wise counsel over the years, has demonstrated an acute mind and an ability to view things from a perspective different from that of most people. And I think that a different perspective is exactly what we need in this situation.”

  “I believe the captain is right.” It was August Toller, who was usually silent during council sessions. The old man coughed once and cleared his throat. Although he was nearly a hundred and forty years old, moved slowly, and rarely spoke, his voice still had strength. “I have known Bartolomeo all his life. I was already old when he was born. He is a strange man, as any of us would be had we been born with his deformities, then been raised and treated by others as he has been. He can be unpleasant. But that strangeness may be just what is called for now.” Toller paused, looking about the table. “Our forays into that mysterious ship are like the probings of a man newly blind. Because we do not know what we are looking for, or what we hope to find, we do not know how to make our search. Bartolomeo may be able to discover an approach unlike what any one of us could envision. If he does, it might not be more successful than what we’ve tried thus far. But I think we would be foolish not to try something different, and I believe putting Bartolomeo in charge of the exploration is a worthwhile change in direction.”

  Michel Tournier had been squirming in his seat, waiting for the opportunity to speak, and he took it as soon as Toller finished. “We are foolish to keep going into that ship at all,” he said, his voice rising. “Five people are dead, a number of others have been injured, and some are becoming unbalanced. And we’ve learned nothing. We’ve accomplished nothing. Even if it is an alien ship, what does that matter? It’s a death ship to us. We should leave it, leave this part of space, go to the next star. Better yet, we should launch warheads and destroy it before we leave.”

  “You are a coward, Michel.” The bishop’s voice was laced with contempt. “We are not leaving that ship. We are certainly not going to destroy it. I doubt we could.” He turned away from Michel, who was obviously stung by the bishop’s words. “I understand Toller’s reasoning,” the bishop continued, “and I concur. However, I would offer an alternative. I have suggested this before, and I suggest it again. I propose the Church take over the exploration of the alien starship. Divine guidance would indeed be a different approach, and wouldn’t necessitate putting an accused traitor in charge.”

  This time the vote was much closer—Toller, Cardenas, Geller, and Nikos all voting to formally put me in charge; the bishop, Costino, and Hingen all voting against. Michel Tournier abstained in protest. The bishop did, however, succeed in attaching an eight-week time limit to my authority. The Executive Council would then vote again.

  I watched the bishop, trying to gauge his feelings, but he managed to keep his demeanor composed. I decided to make a peace offering of sorts, although I wasn’t sure he would see it that way.

  “Do
you want a church representative on the exploration team?” I asked him. “I would gladly accept such an arrangement.”

  The bishop hesitated before replying; I could sense the whirring of his thoughts. “I suppose you would want Father Veronica.”

  “After our experiences together on Antioch, I would welcome her assistance. But I would welcome anyone you would like to accompany the team, as long as he or she is willing.”

  The bishop nodded. “Unfortunately, Father Veronica is unavailable. However, one of our clerics, Eric Casterman, has expressed an interest in the alien vessel. He will accompany you.”

  I couldn’t object, so I let it go and moved on. “One last thing,” I said. “The earlier vote, to drop the charges against me and the others. No exceptions were noted, so I assume that includes Pär Lundkvist as well.”

  From the long silence, I could see I had raised an awkward subject. I was glad.

  “Pär was not arrested with you and the others,” Aiyana finally said. “He couldn’t be found. From your question, I presume you already know that.”

  “Yes.”

  “We don’t believe he is on the ship anymore. We believe he took one of the shuttles and escaped to Antioch.”

  “But if he is on the ship?” I asked.

  “Do you have such knowledge?” the bishop asked.

  I shook my head. There were glances and shrugs; the bishop continued to study me, probably not believing my denial. Finally Nikos spoke.

  “As you said, no exceptions were mentioned during the vote. As distasteful as I would find it, I would say the agreement applied to Pär Lundkvist as well.” He paused. “Unless there are objections, if he is on the Argonos, he will remain a free man.”

  There were no objections, at least none were raised, and with that the emergency session concluded. Afterwards, Nikos did not say a word to me.

  22

  PÄR was waiting for me in my quarters. He was sitting in a chair in the front room, rubbing at his eyes; my entrance had awakened him.