by Gary Tarulli
“Certainly. Assuming a uniform rate of accrual, fifty meters in ten billion days, uh … that’s twenty-eight million Earth years.”
“Help me out here,” Diana said. “This mineral accrual occurs how?”
“Ah, that is the question, isn’t it? Consider the other two images. One is from the surface of the first core, not the hole it came from mind you, but the removed core; the other is a sample of a fragment that came from the spire’s summit.”
“You mean one of the fragments that nearly caved your head in?” Diana said as gentle reminder.
“Right,” Thompson said, frowning. “Neither sample shows mineral accrual. Only the spire itself is accruing material.”
“Oh, I get it!” Diana declared. “You want us to believe the spire is repairing itself!”
“Why limit it?” Thompson said.
“You’re saying the spires form themselves this way? That, like some kind of a giant stone tree, it grows?”
“Diana, that’s exactly what I’m saying. That the spires are, in some sense, alive. By my calculations some of the spires are as ancient as one hundred million years. Ancient and alive.”
“May I offer my opinion?” Melhaus said.
“Of course,” Thompson replied.
“I would submit that if the growth rate is slower than the repair rate, the spires may be quite a bit older. Perhaps as old as we’re guessing the Orb to be.”
“Good point. I hadn’t considered that possibility. Unfortunately, we lack the time and the means to prove it.”
“What the hell did I say that helped you with this?” I asked.
“Your description of the spires in the OceanOrb. You gave them living attributes. Said they appeared like sentinels growing off the bottom, or words to that effect.”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” I said, pretending to inflate my contribution. “I had promised to solve the spires’ riddle, so this discovery gets me off the hook.”
“No, not quite,” he replied. “Unless you make another offhand remark telling us how the spires originated here.”
“Same way as the phytoplankton?” I volunteered.
“Can we back up a minute?” Kelly said. “You’re asking us to accept a lot. You never answered Diana’s question. What’s the actual process causing this growth?”
“Shall I coin a new term? Molecular transmigration?”
“Conjecture is a long way from calling something alive,” Kelly responded.
“Perhaps. But I will ask you to reflect on how we arrived at this point. How the Orb, with all their unusual attributes, challenged our perceptions of what constitutes a life-form; how the first contact was made, not by us but by Angie, further coaxing us out of our self-righteous expectations; how the OceanOrb, universal, immense, timeless by our standards, carried us further from our preconceived notions; how the planet’s weather and Orb appeared to us as inseparable; how Kyle’s metaphysical contact made us confront the supposed limitations of mind; and now, the spires, forcing us to truly accept what we only claimed to understand all along: Life may refuse to follow the strictures we lay down for it. What more do we need to see? We must be willing to accept where this is leading us. We must be prepared to reconsider and expand the definition of life so that it encompasses the planet itself as a living entity.” Thompson swept a challenging gaze across us. “No, even that is too confining. Between the scientist, the artist, and the physician we must completely rewrite the definition. Together we must brave being scorned and become visionaries. Is the next step in our journey finding out that life is inseparable from all of creation? Is this our simple answer, Paul?”
“I’m not prepared to go quite that far.”
Thompson laughed once again. “Neither am I. But I am prepared to go partway. If you can’t follow me, you will find what I am about to do incomprehensible.”
Thompson turned to me. “Which compartment holds the collected rainwater?”
“Reserve Compartment B,’” I responded. “The smaller of the two.”
“Good. Empty it.”
“Say again? You lost me.”
“Empty it. The main compartment is sufficient for our needs. We shall do our best to leave this planet as we found it. I will set further example by leaving the samples I have collected.”
“What?!” Diana shouted. “You want me to leave all my specimens?!”
“I’m well aware of how much your work means to you. To all of you. Don’t you think I wrestled with this decision? But let me ask you this, Diana: How long have you been able to keep specimens of phytoplankton alive?”
“Four hours.”
“Figure it out. Keeping phytoplankton alive is impossible for the same reason spire fragments do not regenerate. Everything on this planet is somehow an integral part of the whole. There is connectivity here. We should not assume any of this is ours for the taking.”
“The last crew did,” Diana said.
“In their ignorance. If it is any consolation, what they’ve taken from this planet is still available for study.”
“What about the specimens I preserved or slide-mounted?
“Since they are corrupted, I see no point in leaving those behind.”
“You’re going to be subjected to censure for this decision,” Paul said.
“You bet.”
“I, for one, will back you up.”
“No,” Diana added, “we will back you up. You saved our collective butts. It’s time we returned the favor.”
The day’s unlikely events and the hard work of preparing the ship for tomorrow’s departure left me little time for Angie. With the setting of the sun, I noticed she discovered a new playmate. Who that playmate was gave me pause.
Melhaus, propped up against a boulder, was staring off into the horizon thinking of who knows what when Angie sauntered over, plopped the stuffed duck in front of him, then stared up expectantly. She did this despite being rebuffed on numerous other occasions. What transpired next ranks in the top five amazing events on Orb. Melhaus began tossing the duck! He did this gamely, wincing in pain with each throw but apparently enjoying himself. Eventually, when the discomfort forced him (but not Angie) to stop, I approached to rescue him.
“She can be a little insistent at times,” I said, scooping Angie up. “Tell me if she bothers you.”
“No bother. I was rather enjoying myself.”
Out in the growing darkness a few dozen softly glowing Orbs silently glided among themselves like ice skaters on a frozen pond.
Paul joined us. “Glad to see your spirits improving, Larry. Just to let you know, to comply with Bruce’s directive, which Diana and I agree with, I have removed most of your samples from the lab. I petitioned Bruce to save one or two.”
“So be it. There weren’t many.” The next words seemed difficult for Melhaus to get out, but he said them: “Thank you.”
“Just keep getting well.”
Paul had been Melhaus’s biggest defender. Maybe now that was being noticed.
I felt as if I hadn’t been alone with Kelly for a hundred years. I was heading for my cabin to update my work when I literally bumped into her.
“I missed you,” I said, picking up Angie and pressing the three of us together. “We missed you.”
“I missed you both, too.”
“Well, have I changed?” I asked, expecting “no” for an answer.
Kelly pressed her lips to the top of Angie’s head, looked up at me with her dark eyes, and gave me a cagey smile. “A little.”
“C’mon. What?”
“You seem a little happier.”
“You’ve only yourself to blame.”
“Is that so? Then I’m going to make you really happy later.”
“It’s working already,” I said, kissing her. “Have I told you I love you?”
“Tell me.”
“I love you.”
We spied Diana, approaching. “Can I have some of this free love?” she said, spreading her arms wide and squeezing
the three of us, now the four of us, into one big embrace.
“You want to get Thompson, Paul, and Larry in on this, too?” I asked.
“Speaking of, what’s up with Larry?” Diana said, taking a step back. “Was I hallucinating or did I actually see him playing with Angie? This is your handiwork, Kelly. He must be experiencing some kind of euphoria from the pain medication.”
“Didn’t you both see?” Kelly said, backing away from Angie and me. “No, you couldn’t have; you two were in the ship talking to Bruce. Larry waded up to his waist in the OceanOrb. It was totally his idea. Interesting, no?”
“Interesting, yes. If that’s the reason for his behavior,” Diana responded. “His turnaround has been rather remarkable.”
“Hey, wait, I have an idea,” I said. “We’re tired and sweaty and it will be our last opportunity. Tonight we can all go for a communal swim. Right in front of Desio, under the partial darkness of a starlit sky.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Kelly said.
“I’ll run it by Bruce,” Diana volunteered, “but I’m sure he’ll agree.”
Diana and Kelly rushed off to finish their chores and I headed to my cabin to quickly bring my work up to date.
Pending Additions/Notes:
On Earth, who will bother to read this?
Peering out of the box. Nice view.
?Insert following from recording: “Larry, one of the reasons I signed on to this expedition was to reinvent myself, even while doubting a person can. Well, if I have, you have. Twice.”
Re loneliness: Paul, as usual, was right.
CSA wanted a different perspective on deep space missions; I guess they got what they wanted from me. And more.
Remove details of sexual intimacy with Kelly?
Draw definitive conclusions? Be suspicious of absolutes.
Will I regress when back on Earth? Fallback: Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.
We survived ourselves.
19 November 2232 21:38:22 Hrs
K. Lorenzo Recorder Download No.728
Gilmore: Here comes Kyle now.
Thompson: Careful now, there’s a drop-off.
Gilmore: On Earth, does Angie like playing in the water?
Lorenzo: Sometimes.
Unknown: (indecipherable)
Lorenzo: Kelly, can you hold her? Be right back. I don’t want to go in with my recorder.
Bertrand: It’s waterproof…
Lorenzo: That’s the problem.
Bertrand: Very funny. I see what you mean.
Takara: Larry, you can get that bandage wet if you want to.
Melhaus: (Inaud)…forget about it.
Takara: Kyle, hurry back. There are streaks of color lighting up the water! It’s beautiful!
Thompson: Doctor, you… (Inaud)
(Power off 21:39:53)
Addendum
Date: 17 February 2235
Desio Recovery Mission
Deep Space Vessel Marsden
Acting Commander Carla Ramirez
I feel constrained to attach the following to add a small measure of completion to the forgoing narrative which the author devoted so much of his self. I do this understanding full well that my report shall not bring closure to the matter I was sent here to investigate: The loss of the crew of the Desio. I fear that after eight days on Orb, and with the Marsden’s departure imminent, I will be judged as having failed in that regard. I will not concede that the crew met with an untimely end, even though no trace of them has been found and no conclusive evidence exists as to the exact cause of their disappearance.
To many, the crew’s fate was considered sealed when the Desio failed to enter Earth’s orbit during the short window of time allotted. Their ability to survive a harsh, nine-month-long winter on the planet was deemed impossible even if all life-support systems remained functional and Orb's vast ocean was somehow capable of sustaining human life.
There was also speculation within the upper echelons of CSA that Desio’s fate was in some manner linked to the adverse affect deep space missions have on human behavior. (How nearly true this was!) I can attest to those effects: During the outbound voyage two members of my crew were administered psychotropics and one was temporarily confined to quarters.
My crew had an additional reason to be restive. If Desio’s problems weren’t self-inflicted, we conceivably could be subject to the same tribulations that befell them. Keeping this in mind, I carried out the recovery mission with the utmost of caution, which I will describe in brief.
The missing ship was quickly discovered by locking on to her locator beacon. When our hailing signals went unanswered, I positioned the Marsden in a geostationary orbit directly above the Desio and utilized teloptics to view both the ship and the small island she rested on. She appeared to have arrived safely, mostly intact, although the fact that her laser had been dismantled and her submersible was nearby and in ruins gave us great cause for concern.
While still in orbit, and to avoid the possibility of putting my crew in harm’s way, I accessed and downloaded Desio’s data banks. Commander Thompson’s log and Mr. Lorenzo’s narrative were most informative. It would be an understatement to say that I was astounded by their content. Neither account, however, foretold what befell the crew, though Mr. Lorenzo’s (including the last automatic download from his personal recorder) best described what transpired immediately before all records abruptly ceased.
With an increased sense of foreboding, we left orbit and descended into the planet’s atmosphere. I had Marsden’s sensory array confirm the absence of bio, chem, or rad hazards. Satisfied of the results, we set down on the island, but at a prudent distance from Desio. Her hatchway was open and she appeared abandoned. The entryway exhibited minor damage from the elements. My science officer and I, wearing protective suits and carrying litescopes, navigated through the ship’s dark interior, quickly surveying each compartment for the crew, surprised at not finding their remains. We then proceeded to conduct a more thorough inspection. Propulsion and life-support systems had gone off-line, but they appeared to be in working order. Food and water were in sufficient quantity for the crew to have made the return voyage home. (Samples were tested and proven safe.) The standard-issue packet of emergency use L-capsules were still safely stored with Doctor Takara’s medical supplies. I found Mr. Lorenzo’s recorder lying on his workstation—probably just as he left it two and a half years ago. In brief, other than missing a crew, nothing else was noteworthy.
Scouring the island offered no clues to a deepening mystery. Desio’s flight recorder proved the ship had set down only once on the planet’s surface, eliminating the possibility that the crew visited (and therefore their remains could be found on) another island. It was the absence of remains that prompted my issuing instructions, briefly questioned by my first in command, to have the forsaken ship checked out, repaired, and secured from further damage.
Having, I believed, collected all the information available, I attempted to make logical assumptions: That Mr. Lorenzo’s narrative and personal recorder gives a clear idea of the time and date just prior to whatever befell the crew. That he most likely returned to the ocean after depositing his personal recorder in his cabin. That as evidenced by the excited tone in Doctor Takara’s voice, colored streaks were for the first time lighting the ocean. That on this one (and apparently only) occasion all crewmembers were in the ocean at the same time. Finally, that every member of the crew, not having departed the island by means of Desio, departed (willingly or not) via the ocean.
The question was how and why.
One theory: That Doctor Melhaus, respected for his genius, took some action, presently obscured by time and the elements, which adversely affected the entire crew. His improved demeanor, doubted perhaps only by Doctor Gilmore, suggests this was not the case. Furthermore, unless he was caught up in his own scheming, where was his body?
Another: That the Orb, intentionally or otherwise, was responsible for the demise of t
he crew. By all accounts the entity had the physical capacity to do harm. If one is to believe mission logs verbatim, however, the entity was cognizant, dare I say protective of anything identified as a life-form. Nevertheless, an understanding of the Orb is so massively incomplete that nothing can be absolutely ruled out or in, including an accidental occurrence that killed the crew at the very moment they were all in the ocean. (Because of this remote possibility, I ordered my crew to stay out of the ocean; after eight days the only indication of the Orb were the faint colors seen when the ocean water was swirled.)
Not at all satisfied with my faltering attempts at an explanation, I sequestered myself in my cabin and meticulously went through it all again. I stared at the holo images Mr. Lorenzo took of the marooned Ixodes. Something about them troubled me. Leaving the Marsden I made a second visit to the cove. There she was, wedged between the rocks, in the same exact position as seen on the holo images. With one striking difference. The ocean level now barely touched her.
I ran back to my ship, accessed and played back images taken of the Orb, concentrating on the relative water level on rock slabs lining the shore. Confirmation! Exactly what the holo images of Ixodes showed. What I was finding hard to believe: The ocean level had dropped by almost a meter!
But that didn’t make sense. There are no tides on Orb. The ice caps had not increased in size. The relative level of moisture saturation in the atmosphere was essentially unchanged. And yet, planetwide, an incredible volume of water (henceforth I shall not call it such) had vanished in less than three years!
I asked, practically demanded, that my science crew find an explanation.
They were unable.
It was then that I came to fully appreciate the melding of Mr. Lorenzo’s creative imagination with Dr. Melhaus’s brilliant science. If you have this same appreciation you might reach a similar conclusion. That delivered out of, and departed from, the planet is one huge Orb. That the crew of Desio is alive and along for one hell of a joy ride.
