Firmament: Machiavellian

by J. Grace Pennington

When he mentioned being kind and loving I couldn’t help thinking of the Captain. Had the two brothers talked at all since Lee had first come aboard?

  “Thanks,” the Doctor said, and at first I thought he was talking to Lee, but then I looked up and saw that Katrina, one of the kitchen assistants, was setting bowls of steaming soup in front of us. I lifted a spoonful and puffed on it a few times before carefully putting it in my mouth.

  As I swallowed, I looked up at Lee, and found him watching me.

  “Her parents are dead,” the Doctor said, answering the unspoken questions. “I found her at my door when she was a baby.”

  “Ah.” Lee smiled, but said nothing else.

  An awkward pause followed, until the Doctor finally asked, “How long have you been in space?”

  “About four years—since Mother died.” Lee averted his face.

  The Doctor wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Lee, what happened between you and Trent?”

  I kept my eyes on the melting cheese on the top of my soup, sensing Lee’s discomfort. Then I heard a soft sigh.

  “How long is it since I’ve seen you? Twenty-two years, I think? This young lady can’t be much younger than that.”

  The Doctor accepted his indirect but not subtle way of refusing to answer. “Andi is twenty-one. I found her a year or two after the last time I saw you.”

  “Funny to think of you being a father, Gerard,” Lee smiled.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “How did you end up here?”

  The Doctor spooned a couple of bites into his mouth before answering. “Trent had lost his doctor, and knew I was having trouble with my practice, so he offered me a position. You know I never cared much for space travel, but it was a good offer.” He shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “So have I,” Lee said softly.

  I watched him as he ate. Each motion, even in simply moving food from his dishes to his mouth, was gentle and refined. Every time he looked at me, the uncanny resemblance between his eyes and his brother’s struck me anew. It was as if the Captain were there for an instant. Then the eyes would turn somewhere else, and it was Lee Trent again.

  Neither of them asked anything else, but there was a finality to the silence as we ate, as if they had concluded an agreed-upon exchange of meager information, and would be content with that for the moment.

  When our bowls were half-empty, the comm marshal’s thin, clear voice spoke over the nearby intercom.

  “Commander Guilders, Doctor Lloyd, Andi Lloyd, Commander McMillan, Lieutenant Commander Whales, and Lieutenant Howitz, please report to Captain Trent in the B-Deck briefing room at once.”

  Me? At an official meeting? I involuntarily straightened my posture, feeling the curiosity and interest surge again.

  We listened until the voice cut off, then the Doctor stood up. “Never get a chance to finish a meal around here,” he grumbled. “Come on, Andi. I’ll see you later, Lee.”

  “All right. And… Gerard.”

  The Doctor looked at him, waiting.

  Lee opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “It’s good to see you again.”

  With his usual half-smile, the Doctor said, “Good to see you, too.”

  The two men looked at each other for another moment, then Lee went back to his soup, and the Doctor and I hurried off.

  When we reached the briefing room, most of the officers called for were already there, as well as Captains Trent and Holloway. Doctor Pearson was also in the room, his tall, loose-jointed frame somehow folded into one of the small chairs at the long, angular table. He did not look at all uncomfortable, however, and he turned his large, sad eyes on each person as they entered, as if asking something of them.

  Napoleon stood in the doorway, still in his dress uniform, round face beaming, shaking the hand of each officer as they entered. I had a strange sensation of touching a raw fish as his moist, cold, fleshy hand touched mine for an instant. He smiled amiably at me, and hurried to shake August’s hand as he came in.

  When everyone was present and seated, the Captain stood at the head of the table. He glanced to his left, where Napoleon and Doctor Pearson sat, then looked down the table towards the Doctor and Guilders and I. Whales, August, and McMillan sat somewhere in between.

  “Captain Holloway has a proposal to introduce,” the Captain began. “He has requested that all primary officers and Andi be present.”

  Guilders raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Captain, may I remind you that according to regulations, all proposals are to be put to the captain and first officer in private before being announced to any other crewmembers—”

  “I know, Mr. Guilders, but Captain Holloway feels that the opinions of these other officers—” he gestured to us “—will be helpful to me.”

  Guilders hesitated, and glanced at the Doctor, who also frowned. The Doctor then looked at me, and I felt unaccountably guilty. Why should it matter if the rest of us were here, just to hear a proposal?

  But the Captain wasn’t paying attention to them. He turned to Napoleon and nodded. “Captain Holloway, would you tell us what it is you have to say?”

  “Just Holloway, please,” the little man said as he stood up. Then he turned his beaming face towards us. “First of all, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your hospitality. Such kindness—such delightful company—and such food! Well, I’m pleased, very pleased, I assure you.”

  We all nodded, and Guilders and the Doctor exchanged glances again.

  “I learned this morning some of the details of your last mission, from various officers. Oh, I beg that you will not think I was prying, gentlemen. It was the furthest thing from my mind, I assure you. My heart was entirely pure in the matter.” He laid his hand over his chest as if to illustrate.

  “So,” he went on, “learning about the sorrowful and saddening state of the inhabitants of the planet you visited made me sorrowful and sad indeed, as I’m sure it must have done you all. I wished both to assist them, and to repay you all for your wonderful kindness.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” the Captain prompted, drumming his fingers on the table. The clicking of his nails against the metal was the only sound in the room other than the omnipresent hum of the engines.

  “I beg your pardon, Captain. I shall get to that at once. In short, I do believe we can help the poor, afflicted people on the planet you found.”

  “How?” The Captain pressed his lips together and continued tapping one finger against the table. Whales looked at the Doctor. They had both been a part of the landing party on that planet, and knew what the society was like.

  “Doctor Pearson shall explain it fully,” Napoleon assured, looking, if possible, more pleased than ever. He nodded genially at his colleague, and sat down.

  Doctor Pearson rose, his tall, bony figure presenting an imposing appearance.

  Rather than speaking immediately, he looked at us one at a time, going clockwise around the table. When he fastened those big, sad, watery-blue eyes on me I almost shrank back. I couldn’t understand the feeling of intimidation that his look impressed on me.

  At last he spoke, for the first time that I’d heard. His voice was not what I’d expected—it was deep and leathery, and as he spoke it cracked every few sentences in the most unexpected places. It grated on the ears, but was somehow mesmerizing at the same time.

  “Officers,” he said, still looking us over slowly, “I am a specialist in space matter, and have cataloged over two hundred new elements and compounds in the past ten years. I recently discovered something which I have yet to encounter physically, but which my probes indicate has great power to change ecosystems on a planetary level. When great enough amounts of this element are injected into a planet’s atmosphere, I predict that the ecosystem of that planet will become rapidly and controllably more fertile. The effects will include increased rainfall and a richer soil, among other more subtle influences.”

  It sounded like he had more to s
ay, but he stopped, and continued looking at each of us one at a time.

  No one ventured an opinion or even an exclamation. His claims were grand and straightforward, though somewhat vague. None of us moved, even to look at each other, but kept staring at Doctor Pearson, waiting for him to say more. He didn’t.

  Finally, Whales cleared his throat and spoke up. “May I ask the nature of this element?”

  “It is a gas produced by a melting and melding of a variety of space elements. It is a delicate balance, but there are surprisingly large concentrations of it some places in the galaxy,” Doctor Pearson explained.

  “And what might those elements be, exactly?”

  “It is too complex to explain here, but I am prepared to show you my calculations and charts later,” Pearson offered.

  “I would like to see them.” Whales’ normally business-like expression hadn’t changed, but his fingers pulled slowly at his jacket collar, as if sorting through his thoughts.

  My skin tingled with the electricity of hope that his words had sent through the room, and I could almost smell the heat of the desert again, blended with the sweat of the young man who sat on the ground with me, drawing in the sand. He looked at me—

  “Where are these large concentrations you speak of?”

  The vision shattered, replaced by only the sterile briefing room and the curiosity-charged presence of the eight men. Guilders had asked the question, his heavy brows drawn down in a bunch over his eyes. The Doctor pursed his lips and kept his arms crossed, August sat up straight, leaned forward, and listened attentively, McMillan tapped his hands repeatedly on his lap, waiting for a response.

  Instead of answering, Doctor Pearson sat back in his too-small chair, and Napoleon stood up and spoke much more slowly and seriously than he had up to now.

  “That’s the only thing about it, Captain. There is—only one concentration of the gas that is large enough to sustain the necessary changes—at least, only one that Doctor Pearson has been able to ascertain. It is in the galactic center of the Milky Way.”

  The change in the atmosphere was palpable. We all looked at each other, and back at the little captain again. Every person in that room, or in any spacecraft or space station anywhere knew that there was one place in the entire galaxy where it was illegal to venture.

  The galactic center.

  Chapter V

  “You have more questions.” the Doctor frowned, looking up from the pad he used to input his medical logs.

  I stepped from the doorway into his fluorescent office and settled into the padded chair in front of his desk. He looked across at me, eyebrows raised.

  “There is one thing—why were you and Guilders so upset about Captain Holloway wanting to make his proposal in front of—”

  “Regulations are there for a reason.” He looked down at the glowing pad again and tapped at it briskly with his index finger.

  “What reason?” I protested. “You’re not usually that much of a rule stickler.”

  He just went on inputting his reports.

  I pinched my lips together, feeling my chest tighten in frustration.

  “What about jacket buttons?” I jabbed.

  “Andi,” he frowned, glancing briefly up at me before going back to his work.

  I watched him for a moment, focusing on the rapid movements and soft tapping of his finger against the screen.

  “Do you know the reason?” I pressed at last.

  He didn’t look up as he answered. “The captain and first officer are supposed to be notified first to avoid pressure of public opinion.”

  “You mean so nobody else can influence their decision? But Doctor, seven people is hardly public.”

  “I don’t care.” He slammed the pad down on the desk with unusual force. “I don’t like this whole thing. Trent shouldn’t be so careless about regulations.”

  I shrugged, feeling my chest tighten a little bit more. “I’m sure he didn’t feel it was very important in this instance. Sometimes a captain has to make judgment calls.”

  “But there was no reason for it,” the Doctor countered, standing up and pacing a few steps to the wall. “I could see needing Whales there—although I notice they gave no real scientific details—and possibly even McMillan, but why me? And most of all, why you and August? What could either of you possibly contribute?”

  I stood up and replied coldly. “Maybe he was just trying to be kind by including us.”

  “Maybe.” From my vantage point I could only see a quarter of the Doctor’s face, but I could see that he was smiling that smile again, the one that made me feel foolish.

  I jerked my medical tunic off and turned to leave the room. “I’m excited,” I said, not intending to sound defiant, but aware that I did. I stepped out into the dim sickbay and dropped the tunic into the laundry chute. “I feel sorry for Elasson, and want to help them all.”

  I halted in the darkness, sorry the instant the words left my mouth. I waited for him to protest, but he said nothing. Turning to look over my shoulder, I saw him through the glass wall of his office, face still towards the wall, shoulders stiffened and head bowed.

  The tightness in my chest loosened in an instant and I bounded to him and touched his arm. “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He relaxed, and turned to give me a half-smile, patting my hand. “I’m sorry too. Let’s forget about it.” He drew my arm through his and led me to my quarters for the night.

  My mind still swarmed with questions. Why was it illegal to venture into the galactic center anyway? I knew it was a dangerous place, and that very few ships had survived it, but it was not impossible. The coordinate system of the entire galaxy depended on the satellites that had been placed there years before.

  But I wasn’t going to ask any more questions right now. The incident seemed to have made the Doctor grumpier than usual. After he retired for the night, I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking and puzzling.

  After several minutes, I switched my wristcom’s frequency and spoke into it.

  “This is Andi. Are you there?”

  “Just about to go off duty,” my brother’s voice answered. “Need anything?”

  “Meet me in the snack bar.”

  “It’s closed.”

  “I know. I just have a few questions.”

  “All right. Be there in five minutes.”

  I switched the com off and hurried out. The lights in the corridor had not yet been dimmed, but most crewmembers were settled for the night by now, and I slipped into the deserted mess hall without meeting anyone. I sat on one of the barely-cushioned latex barstools and waited. Less than a minute later August entered and slowly made his way through the dim room.

  “Isn’t there a light in here?” he asked, squinting at me.

  I hopped off the stool and went around behind the bar to turn one on. It cast a meek glow around the bar and just a meter beyond, making the rest of mess hall seem darker by comparison. “Want a pretzel?” I asked, entering my code to unlock the dormant pretzel machine.

  “But it’s after hours…” he protested.

  “Almira won’t mind,” I assured, taking out a still-warm one and handing it to him.

  He succumbed, biting into it and catching the shower of salt in his hand as I locked the machine again.

  “You said you had questions?” he prompted as I settled myself beside him at the bar.

  “A few. What do you think of Captain Holloway’s proposal?”

  He swallowed a bite and licked his lips. “Sounds interesting.”

  “Did Doctor Pearson show Whales his formulas yet?”

  August nodded, still nibbling.

  “And were you there?” I prompted.

  “Yes.”

  “Come on,” I said, leaning forward. “Tell me about it. Does it look plausible?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not much of a scientist.”

  “August!”

  He widened his brown eyes at me in genuine innocen
ce. “What?”

  “Don’t make me drag it out of you. Tell me whatever you remember, please.”

  “All right.” He thought for a moment. “I think he called it a biodiversity motivator. Something about atmospheric stabilization and magnetism, I think… Whales seemed to place a lot of emphasis on the magnetic aspects in his questions. I think that was one place where the old terraforming experiments always failed.”

  I let his words sink in for a moment. “The Doctor doesn’t like the way Holloway insisted on having us there for the proposal.”

  “Neither does Mr. Guilders. He lectured the Captain about it on the bridge.”

  I couldn’t help a smile. “What did the Captain say to that?”

  “He didn’t like it. He said there was no harm done, and for Guilders to ‘ease up’ about it.”

  “And how did Guilders react?”

  August shrugged. “You know Guilders. He just went back to his work.”

  “Has the Captain mentioned Lee at all?”

  He shook his head. “No. But he does seem a little… hmm, not really distracted, exactly. I don’t know.”

  “Lee seems very nice,” I commented.

  He shrugged again as he swallowed the last bite. “Yes.”

  I brushed the crumbs of pretzel salt off the bar into my hand, and waited for him to expound, but he didn’t. He only watched me, his eyes reflecting a gleam from the yellow light above us.

  “We’d better go to bed now, Andi,” he said after a moment of silence between us. “The shift will change before too long.”

  “All right.” I hopped down from the stool and hugged him. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” he replied, squeezing me gently, then pulling back and smiling.

  I let him walk out while I checked to ensure that the pretzel machine was locked, dropped the bits of salt from my fist into the recyclator, and switched off the light.

  When I stepped into the dimly-lit hall, I paused.

  Bed sounded unappealing. I shifted my weight back and forth from one leg to the other as a couple of stray night crewmembers wandered past on their way to their assigned tasks.

  I tried to dig up the root of my unrest. Despite my protests, the Doctor was right about the lack of warp stomach in some of the visitors. It didn’t make much sense. The Doctor had said that an injection of the increased-virulence pre-warp serum could prevent it. This was more expensive than the milder post-warp serum, and it was a more delicate process. But Napoleon had said they had no doctors, and I could think of no reason he would want to lie.