Orb

by Gary Tarulli

  “This isn’t the only time she’s done this,” I said as the others came up beside me. “The other day I had doubted myself, and maybe the other evening Thompson doubted himself, but I’m not going to doubt her. Angie is never wrong. Something is out there.” I bent down and scooped her up in my arms. The five of us intently scanned the horizon.

  “If we can’t see anything out there,” I said, “obviously she won’t be able to either. She could be scenting something. More likely hearing something. Did you see her head turn slightly and her ears flicker a bit?”

  “I did,” Kelly confirmed. “We hear sound frequencies as high as twenty thousand hertz. Angie can hear twice that from three times farther away. But what would she be hearing?”

  “Paul?” Diana inquired. “Could she be hearing a distant thunderstorm?”

  “According to my instrument readings,” Paul responded, “there are no storms within five hundred kilometers.”

  “There are many species, including canines, sensitive to earthquakes,” Diana volunteered. “Only Thompson said there are no earthquakes.”

  “So then … what?” I asked.

  “I’ll get the binoculars,” Paul said, and ran off.

  “Tell me one thing, Doctor Takara,” Diana prodded as we waited for Paul to return. “Your specific knowledge of canine auditory acuity. You acquired this when?”

  “Recently,” Kelly responded. “I certainly can’t replace a veterinarian, but I am the entire crew’s physician.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you,” Diana said. “Don’t you think that’s thoughtful of Kelly, Kyle?”

  “Very,” I replied.

  Paul, with Thompson and Melhaus in tow, returned with the binoculars.

  “What’s your mutt up to now?” Thompson inquired.

  “Not sure yet.”

  Trying our best to be patient, we stood by as Paul made use of the field glasses, methodically sweeping back and forth across the ocean in front of us. On one such pass, he froze. Fumbling with and adjusting the focus he froze again, then shouted “shit!” dropping the delicate instrument onto the hard rock at his feet. It was the one and the only time I ever heard him swear.

  Thompson reached for the binoculars, one lens showing a hairline crack, a fraction quicker than Paul.

  “Paul?!” Diana practically pleaded. “What did you see?!”

  All Paul could manage was a shrug and a shake of his head.

  “Damn!” Thompson said, attempting to adjust the focus. “He doesn’t have a clue. And, frankly, neither do I.”

  “Whatever it is, here it comes!” shouted Kelly. “I can see … them!”

  “Yes,” said Melhaus who, up until then, had lingered in the background. “There.” He pointed. “Eight. No ten. Twelve I can plainly discern.”

  “Try these,” Thompson said, quickly passing the binoculars. “The unaided eye, however, seems to serve almost as well.”

  We were rooted to the spot, staring in disbelief. Confounding Thompson and Paul, and now all of us, were several blue-gray domes floating, bubble-like, on the placid ocean water. The objects (I was temporarily at a loss on how to name them) were a kilometer from shore and slowly approaching. Determining their exact size without a point of reference was problematic, but I guesstimated their varying heights as proportional to those of a man, woman and child. But were we viewing the upper half of complete spheres, the bottom half being hidden below the water line? This, together with a million other questions, flooded my mind as I wrestled with the phenomenal import of what we were witnessing.

  “Tell me, somebody please tell me,” Diana implored, “what the hell are those things?!”

  “Whatever they are, they get no closer,” I said. The object’s slow forward motion had suddenly ceased.

  I was having difficulty holding onto Angie, who was wiggling impatiently in my arms. Lowering her to the ground, she immediately entered the water up to her chest, emitted a short, happy yip and proceeded to vibrate her tail so fast it disappeared into a blur. Her low whining had ceased, having recognized that we humans had the good sense to see what she was trying to communicate all along.

  “We need to make the most of this opportunity,” Melhaus said, his face now partially obscured behind binoculars. “We need to use Desio—”

  “Hold on,” Thompson interrupted. “What are we looking at here? I’ll accept guesses. I won’t hold you to them. Paul, can wind or ocean currents explain the objects’ movement?”

  “Probably not, the sudden cessation of their forward progression casts doubt on either being plausible. The prevailing wind is not in agreement with their motion; in fact, it is slightly opposed. Ocean current? There is virtually none.”

  “So if I chose to infer these objects are somehow moving on their own?”

  “None of us would call you crazy.”

  Diana looked ready to jump out of her skin.

  And the objects originate from where?” Thompson asked.

  “Sous-marine?” Paul shrugged. “Only a guess.”

  “Kyle,” Thompson said, marshaling my attention. “Angie anticipated the arrival of the objects. How?” He had not been present when this subject was discussed.

  “We think by picking up on high-pitched frequencies humans can’t hear.”

  “And do you believe this was also happening during yesterday’s meeting, when you responded to Angie’s barking?”

  “I’d have to say yes. And on at least one other occasion.”

  “What frequencies can Angie hear that we can’t?”

  “I’ll defer that question to Kelly. She’s the expert.”

  “From twenty thousand hertz to approximately forty-five thousand hertz,” Kelly replied. “But at the very low end of frequencies there are negligible differences in hearing acuity.”

  “Larry,” Thompson said. “Doctor Melhaus.” The physicist responded to his name being repeated by reluctantly lowering the damaged instrument glued to his eyes. “Can you venture a guess regarding the objects’ size and shape?”

  “No. Not with accuracy. Not without utilizing Desio.”

  “Are we seeing the objects in their entirety?”

  “Unlikely given what we can see. They are almost certainly spheroid, with one-half of their shape below water.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “In nature, the sphere is a common shape. And one of the strongest.”

  “I agree,” said Thompson. “Diana, what do you make of all this?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” she responded, frustrated. “If only we had Ixo…”

  She caught herself, barely, but not in time to prevent Melhaus from cringing. Thompson attempted to smooth over the moment by posing another question.

  “What do you make of the objects’ hue, a close match to the ocean although shades darker?”

  “And their surface being shiny and very smooth, at least as seen from this distance?” Diana responded, posing yet another question. “I’m trying to pull it all together. The undifferentiated look of it, with no apparent orifices or sensory equipment begs the question: Is this an inanimate object or a living entity?”

  “Perhaps,” Kelly volunteered, “it is a means of conveyance for an entity.”

  “Kyle,” Thompson said. “Your opinion?”

  “They may be none of the possibilities being proposed, but I’d say we are looking at some type of a lifeform. Up till now they have stayed beyond our capability to see them. Except two days ago I did, at the cove, just barely, when Kelly and I split away from the main group. Now they approach us, I’d say cautiously, keeping at a distance. In those actions, I see the possibility of intention.”

  “Why avoid us?” asked Paul.

  “Wary of our intention,” I said.

  “All wild conjecture,” Melhaus asserted. “For definitive answers we must immediately take Desio in for a closer look.”

  “If what Kyle says is accurate,” Kelly proffered, “a flyover may be the one thing we shouldn�
��t do. I would expect they would respond by moving away.”

  “That seems to make sense,” Diana said, addressing Thompson.

  “I see,” Melhaus said, visibly irritated. “That’s how it’s going to be.”

  “You can’t possibly ‘see how it’s going to be,’” Thompson asserted. “Not without hearing from me first. Here’s what we are going to do. Larry, you, me and Diana will board Desio and take her to an altitude of one hundred meters. We’ll take advantage of the altitude and ship’s instrumentation to get a better look at these things. Hopefully, if we keep a reasonable distance and remain over land, the possibility Kelly suggests won’t materialize. If all goes well, we’ll slowly pilot closer and see what happens.”

  The decision was sound and there was no voiced disagreement. Three of us would remain behind and watch from the shore. Thompson, Melhaus and Diana were moving toward the ship when I was constrained to stop them.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “They’re moving again!”

  “No!” Diana shouted, running back to where Kelly, Paul and I were standing. “They’re heading away from us!”

  Melhaus, binoculars still in hand, also turned when I yelled but had stubbornly anchored himself in place, as if to insist proceeding to Desio was still the only sensible course of action. In one quick motion, Thompson strode past him, took the binoculars from his hand, and said, “We stay.”

  The objects were speedily heading back out to sea, and quicker than they appeared, until completely vanishing from our view.

  “This is torture,” gasped Diana, then, in an instant of controlled madness, waved her hand oceanward and cried out, “Whatever you are, you come right back here, damn you!”

  “Calm yourself,” Thompson admonished. “They’ll be back.”

  “And how do you arrive at that conclusion?” Diana said.

  “If they’re sentient beings, they’ll be curious about the bizarre entity yelling from shore.”

  “There was an instant,” I said, “just as I lost track of them, when they slipped below the water. Anybody else see that?”

  “I can’t confirm it,” Thompson responded. “I didn’t have time to get a fix on them with the binoculars.”

  “Nor can I,” said Kelly. “But from now on I’ll not doubt what anybody thinks they see.”

  “I understand what Kyle is referring to,” Paul remarked. “My perception was slightly different. I saw the objects’ merely blending into the similar color of the ocean.”

  “Perhaps so,” I said, not entirely convinced. What was indisputable was that the objects had vanished like apparitions in a desert.

  “And now what?” asked Diana. “Go through the rest of the day like nothing happened?”

  “I have an idea,” Melhaus said. He had decided to rejoin us. “Reconfiguration of the onboard spectroscopy equipment would give me a chance at determining the chemical and molecular composition of the objects.” Then, with a trace of sarcasm: “If and when they reappear.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” said Thompson. “How long?”

  “Five hours.”

  “Go to it,” Thompson ordered.

  As Melhaus headed toward Desio, Angie came trotting out of the ocean, shook herself a few times—and found five people staring at her. She appeared delighted with herself.

  “You’re a good dog, aren’t you?” I said, joining her at ground level.

  “Your little mutt is finally earning her keep,” Thompson said as he watched her nuzzle me affectionately. “Don’t let her stray too far from you or from Kelly. Just in case she barks another warning.”

  With Melhaus working inside Desio, Thompson took the opportunity to address the rest of his crew. I was only partially correct in assuming that he was going to broach the delicate subject of Melhaus’s behavior.

  “We would be deluding ourselves in believing we are immune to the same pressures affecting our troubled colleague, but for some reason we seem to be coping better. I cancelled this morning’s meeting for a reason: To break routine. We’ve been, and will continue to be, working sunup to sundown with one notable exception, forays to the cove. They do seem to be, shall we say, restorative? Perhaps I shouldn’t delve too deeply into why—”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t,” affirmed Diana with a small smirk.

  “—so continue to go,” Thompson concluded. “The time spent there is well spent in my opinion.”

  “And Larry refuses?” Paul inquired.

  “Yes.”

  “Anything else we can do?”

  “You’ve been doing it, each of you,” Thompson said. “If his problems come to a head, let the consequences fall on me.”

  “About Larry—” I began, but broke off when, at the same time, Kelly started to speak.

  “No, go ahead,” she said. “It’s the same.”

  I turned to face Thompson. “I thought his remark, ‘that’s how it’s going to be’, a bit worrisome. He appears to be paranoid that some of us, maybe all of us, are acting in collusion against him.”

  “What?!” Diana said, exasperated. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “Only we are in collusion … for him,” Paul maintained. “Look at this from his perspective. If you strip away the ability to distinguish motive, all you see is five people acting concertedly.”

  “An interesting point,” said Thompson, frowning. “Kelly, you agree with Kyle and Paul?”

  “Yes. A developing paranoia is a possibility.”

  “I take it administering pharmaceuticals, maybe a few dozen tranquilizers in his food, has been discussed?” asked Diana.

  “Discussed briefly. And dropped,” said Kelly. “I don’t have a full pharmacopeia onboard, and the benefits of some of these drugs are uneven. Getting him to take sleep medication was a challenge. The point is moot. He won’t take anything voluntarily. Period.” Kelly aimed her next remark at Thompson. “And slipping medication in his food is illegal and unethical. I won’t do it.”

  “Nor have I asked you to,” replied Thompson, slightly annoyed.

  “I’m sorry, Bruce, I shouldn’t have implied that you would. Maybe I’m starting to become a bit paranoid myself.”

  “The dividing line between paranoia and prudence is subjective,” I said, “but fortunately you both seem to be on the correct side.”

  “Let’s see how long that lasts,” commented Diana, “And, as for you, Kyle, apparently you weren’t having a hallucinogenic episode at the cove the other day. How amazing.”

  “Of course not, never imagined I was. I’m the holo-poster boy of mental health and stability. Just ask the Crew Selection Committee.”

  “You mean the same committee that recruited Melhaus?” said Thompson.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  Intelligent Life

  THE REMAINDER OF the morning and early afternoon dragged on interminably.

  The sun crawled into the sky. Puffy clouds, nudged along by a languid wind, towed their inverted reflections across the ocean’s shinny surface.

  Casting an invisible shadow on all we did was the tantalizing glimpse of the unknown that had been parceled out to us. In the vacuum left by the objects’ departure we could only wonder if a discovery of historic proportions would forever remain just beyond our grasp. In this regard, an unpalatable fact had to be choked down whole: The ability to further our understanding of the mysterious objects was immeasurably compromised by the loss of Ixodes. On this subject the crew kept silent. No good could come of belaboring the obvious. All we could do was wait and hope for the objects’ return.

  The lights of my cabin flickered: Melhaus, presently working on Desio’s sensor array. How much the loss of Ixodes was weighing on him, well, I could only imagine.

  I had expressed my concern to Thompson. Bluntly put, I believed Melhaus was, both in word and deed, demonstrating the first symptoms of a latent paranoid personality disorder. Kelly reluctantly agreed, although she made a point of reminding Thompson that we were over-relying on
the ship’s AI (it contained every text written on the subject of mental illness) and that neither she nor I had the skill set of a trained psychiatrist. All well and good, Thompson agreed, a reliable diagnosis requires a psychiatrist’s evaluation, but since they were presently in short supply Kelly and I were going to suffice as the next best thing. His own attempt at communicating with Melhaus on any subject not concerning the mission was greeted by a sheer wall of impregnable silence. Psychotropics were outright refused.

  I reflected on how a worrisome percentage of individuals diagnosed with paranoid personality disorder, when left untreated, commit acts dangerous to themselves or to others. Our present tenuous circumstances placed us in even greater jeopardy. Accordingly, we resorted to keeping an unobtrusive and wary eye on our ‘patient’. We were increasingly nervous spectators. But unless Melhaus resorted to some overt hostile act, and there were no indications that he would, what else could we do?

  Subject to change, Thompson reluctantly acquiesced to this wait-and-see approach. I do mean reluctantly. He was the type of person who, once aware of a problem, preferred to meet it head on.

  When we weren’t playing psychiatrists, Kelly and I continued to assist the scientists in any way we could, including taking on all the menial (and, frankly, boring) chores necessary to support a ship with a crew of six. After a stint of this drudgery, stretching into early afternoon, I ensconced myself in my cabin to do my job.

  By early evening nagging hunger and a dearth of creativity reminded me that prospect of a picnic dinner was waiting for me outside. Angie had been left with Kelly, who was assisting Diana with an experiment near the water’s edge. I wasn’t given much choice in the arrangement. Keeping Angie inside with me would have eliminated any chance of her detecting another visit (if that’s what it was) from the objects.

  Gathering up a few essentials—wash cloth, recorder, water purifier, and communicator—I exited my cabin. Passing through the mission room, still musing over what I hadn’t accomplished, I absentmindedly bumped into Melhaus as he was stepping down from the command and control room. A satisfied grin was lighting the otherwise plain features of his face. When he saw me the smug look of contentment changed to that of surprise, followed by one of annoyance.