Fox approached. The letterhead on the uniform read Capt. Stuart Dromnik. In the photograph, Mia was smiling at the camera.
“You haven't found anyone else?” Dr. Edelmann said.
“No sign of the rest of the crew,” said Isaac.
Fox shook his head.
The photograph he had found in the lab cabinet weighed on the inside of his suit like a ton of lead.
And at last he managed to silence everyone.
Suspicion, directed by W. W. House
In the Titan's common room he was overcome by a delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It was the only room on the spacecraft where all the halogens in the ceiling seemed to be working. In the center was a circular enameled carbon table surrounded by several red rubber chairs. On the table rested a coffee pot and a couple of mugs, plus several scattered cookies. The white marble floor was covered almost entirely with Isaac's emblem, drawn in his broad-brush style. Several plastic plants decorated the perimeter of the room. At the back, a large cracked mirror gave the whole a more spacious feel. A spiral staircase ascended to the deck.
It really seemed that Isaac had invested most of his design efforts in that place.
Fox poured himself a cup and returned to his bedroom. He opened the laptop he had taken from Captain Dromnik's bedroom before leaving the Ulysses. He wanted to at least take a thorough look at it before briefing the rest of the crew.
Good morning, Captain Dromnik. Please enter your password:
He wrote “Albatross”. Nothing. “Ulysses2277”. Nothing.
Fox clicked his tongue. Took a sip of coffee.
“Mia”.
The screen unlocked with a pleasant chime sound.
He accessed a folder that read Mission Log. Inside were more folders. Accessed Recorder. There were dozens of audio files ranging from a few seconds to five minutes in length. He put on his headphones and played one at random, about halfway through the contents of the folder. Captain Dromnik's deep voice spoke up.
“Day 15.
“Time 28:06.
“Clear weather. Mia, Holm and myself embark the RJN today to begin the expedition across the Great Ocean. Holm still has stomach pain, though it doesn't seem serious. We have enough supplies to last us for a month, although we plan to return in seven days. The color of the ocean is... like very dark blood. Red wine. I started smoking again today.
“Time 29:22.
“We just lost sight of the shore. This place gives me the creeps. You expect to see the end when you look at the horizon, but the water continues even further out, I'm still not used to it not ending where you expect it to.
“I've gotten a little dizzy and Mia is... uh... very pretty.
“I have a strange feeling, like it's not our place to be here.
“Apparently the currents work in a similar way to those of the terrestrial oceans, although it is still too early to conclude anything.
“The most surprising thing has been the depth measurement we have obtained with the sonar. According to it, the bottom is now more than 130 miles below our feet. It may be broken. Gravity or some chemical issue may have affected it. But what do I know. Amundsen is checking it out. He keeps talking about his mother. This place seems to have awakened some old memory. Something that happened while he was playing with some crabs on a beach or whatever. He seems more and more obsessed. I caught him crying today. He worries me.
“Day 16.
“Time 34:02.
“When night falls this place is even more sinister if possible. The feeling of loneliness is brutal. In Earth's oceans at least you are left with the comfort of knowing that in any direction, sooner or later you will find dry land inhabited by other humans. But here there is always present the oppressive feeling that this place doesn't give a damn about us.”
A nearby cough. Globber, it seemed to Fox.
“A couple of hours ago, when Pharex had not yet finished hiding, we picked up something on the scanner. It was probably just a small island, Dr. Amundsen said.
“Day 17.
“Time 11:40.
“We found the luminarian spacecraft. We've been scanning it all morning. You have to admit, those people, or whatever they were, knew how to build spacecrafts. Every detail, every inch of its structure seems designed to serve a function. And best of all, in the cockpit was still the catalyst, intact after so many centuries.”
The roar of a wave hitting the boat.
“I guess it won't be long before we'll be back. Mission accomplished.
“Day 17.
“Time 17:40.”
Captain Dromnik's accelerated breathing.
“We're still on the luminarian spacecraft. The catalyst... Amundsen has lost his mind. First that... imitation of a human being, and then those things started appearing, those crustaceans, those monsters... Dillington and Ramirez are down. I'm with Mia, I don't think we're going to last much longer. She's bleeding out.
“Time 17:46.
“We're getting ready to flee. I' ve tried to give her a tourniquet, but the wound looks like a damned fountain. Those bugs can be heard everywhere. We'll try to run to the central ward and secure the door. From there, it's no more than a hundred yards to the RJN. I think we can make it. In any case, we have no choice.
“Time 18:02.”
Captain Dromnik sobbing.
“I tried... I really tried... Or at least... but who am I talking to? She couldn't run, and those monsters were coming from everywhere...” (a sob) “I watched them tear her apart. At the last instant I couldn't help it and I looked. I watched as they devoured her while I ran away. You left her there as bait, Stuart. Human bait to get you off scot-free. After all, no one was going to find out, were they?
“They were chopping her legs off.”
Another sob. Then silence before the connection closed with a crackle.
“Day 20.
“Time... I don't know, I don't really care too much about it at this point. I have returned to the Ulysses. I've tried to start the propulsion system, but it's still clogged. I communicated my situation to the base, and their response was ‘No rescue. Thank you for your services.’ So I don't really know why I keep making these recordings either. A way like any other to fool myself into thinking that life goes on. Like self-therapy. But every time I remember those eyes, especially the eyes... I think I would have been able to carry her....”
Sobbing and disconnection.
“I don't know how many days I've been here. I really don't know what the balance of my life is. Just... if there's anything up there that knows there was once a human being lost here, I ask for mercy.”
One shot. Then, for more than four hours, silence.
A very curious thing happens in chess. Sometimes the only way to win a game is to get rid of your best piece.
Vlad Sherov, chess champion between 2141 and 2152
In the common room, Isaac watched the android.
“A magnificent specimen,” he said to Fox when saw him enter. “I collaborated with Watson Robotics on a project. They are admirable professionals. Please take good care of this marvel.”
Fox tried to imagine Isaac collaborating with a mega-corporation like Watson Robotics. He especially tried to visualize the faces of the engineers as they witnessed Isaac's understanding of engineering.
“I will, Mr. Norton,” he said.
“Please call me Isaac,” he offered him bourbon with a wave of the bottle. Fox nodded. “A strange but fascinating place, this Erebus. Cheers. Do you have a family, Mr. Stockton?”
Fox took a sip and felt the whiskey burn his throat.
“Something like that.”
“I understand. And if it's not too much of an indiscretion, tell me: what do you plan to spend the money on?”
“I'd like to be able to live in a place where my toes don't freeze when I get up to pee at night.”
Isaac laughed.
“Yes, that's a good reason, no doubt. Wouldn't it be wonderful if someday each of us coul
d live on a planet that was uniquely our own? There everyone could make their own rules, and live as they please.”
“Who would live on dark and desolate planets?”
“Perhaps a horror writer would be interested. Perhaps some planets could be used as punishment or penance. Sentenced to spend a month on the planet Erebus,” he banged on the table with the bottom of the bottle, like a hammer.
In a flash, Fox caught a glimpse of the knife stuck in Bruce's neck.
“It's interesting.”
“The interesting thing about the future is that it is nothing yet, just an amorphous mass of clay. The future begins in our minds. We can make it magnificent. Even the humblest can have a great idea. We must not let ourselves be carried along by the current of time and just watch the passing landscape as spectators. Everyone, every last one of us, has something to contribute.”
There was a loud tremor. Glasses danced across the table, ice cubes clinking. Fox held his so it wouldn't fall over the edge.
“Mr. Norton... Isaac. Have you known Dr. Edelmann long?”
When he said that, he thought he saw Isaac's brow furrow slightly, for an instant.
“He's working on a new implant now, and it looks like this trip could be of great help to him. He can be trusted. He started collaborating with me on an ad hoc basis a couple of years ago. He was instrumental in testing the effects of quantum leap travel on human behavior. Don't worry, you're in good hands.”
Fox wondered what the medical equivalent of Isaac's system of organization and work would be like.
“I didn't say I was worried.”
“By the way, I'm afraid the dust accumulated in the atmosphere has damaged the air propulsion system. So we'll have to use the Titan's amphibious function. If you'll excuse me, I'll check to see if that tremor has caused any damage.”
He disappeared through the door leading to the control room. Fox stood for a few moments ruminating on Isaac's last words, which had hit him like a punch in the pit of his stomach.
The bed was very comfortable. At least compared to the mattress in his apartment, full of springs and bumps. That night, however, he was unable to fall asleep. In a Louis XIV style chair Nova pretended to sleep with her arms crossed under her chest and her head tilted to one side. She had taken off her shoes, revealing pink socks with flower patterns. Her denim jacket was balled up in a corner, like a frightened animal hiding in the shadows. On his bare left shoulder was a star.
“Nova.”
She did not wake up. Fox didn't know if it was part of the simulation or if she really hadn't heard him. Anyway, he wasn't sure what he would have told her if she' d opened her eyes. Perhaps she did know, perhaps better than he knew himself.
In the tranquility of his kingdom, that knight strutted from its impregnable position. From that moment on, Fox planned its extermination by moving one of the pawns that protected his king forward, ready to eliminate that intruder.
“I have been listening to Captain Dromnik's diary,” he said.
Edelmann maneuvered with his heavy artillery by placing one of his rooks on the open column in front of the white king, taking advantage of the time Fox would take to eliminate the knight.
“Did you take it on your own?”
“Did you expect me to ask for permission? Apparently they did find the catalyst, but there were some... mishaps. Apparently Amundsen lost control of that thing.”
He placed his pawn on the square occupied by the knight and removed it from the board. Almost at the same instant he realized his mistake. By advancing that pawn he had opened a lethal avenue of attack against his king, which Edelmann soon took advantage of by aiming his bishop at the heart of the white army.
“Interesting,” said Edelmann, “What sort of things do you think would cause a perfectly sane man to lose control, Captain Stockton?”
Fox moved his king, trying to hide it behind the two guards still standing firm in front of him.
“I have no idea. It seems something was tormenting that Amundsen.”
Edelmann placed his other rook two steps away from the previous one, and Fox was forced to advance the pawn in front of his king, putting up a last resistance in a vain attempt to hide his deadly mistake.
“And I found something else,” Fox continued. “A photograph.”
The black queen stood between the two rooks, forming an ominous dark mass just below Fox's king. The battlements of the first tower were the monstrous teeth of that inescapable creature. The queen was the body, immense and powerful as a mountain. The other tower was the long tail that propelled the monster from the depths.
Fox imagined that wretched wooden monarch abandoning that two-colored mat and escaping to some familiar shore, pursued by his own guilt that had taken the form of a cyclopean abyssal creature, perhaps while being rebuked by the rest of the army wondering why their king was abandoning them in the face of such a nightmare.
Seeing no other way out, Fox offered his surrender.
Regarding the gellids, it remains a mystery whether their manipulative behavior is an intrinsic aspect of their nature (as it is for humans to walk upright or the tendency to congregate in tribes) or whether it is a pattern of behavior that they have systematically adopted to increase their chances of survival.
Volpenier, Compendium of Exobiology
President Simmons entered the presidential residence. After drinking half a liter of orange juice, he threw off the suit as if it were a straitjacket that had been confining him all day. He walked through the mansion in his underwear, feeling the rough warmth of the carpet under his feet. Turquoise lights flared as he passed. Scenes of Pacific islands were depicted on the walls. The murmur of waves filled the very long corridors.
Marta. How had she dared to contradict him in the middle of the plenary session? He remembered the day he' d met her. How he was impressed by her poise, her agile response to everything, and above all that out-of-the-box thinking that had inspired him so much in his career. After that first formal introduction came another at a Samatt hotel, which included champagne and breakfast. He liked the way she looked at him, not as a superior being to be begged for adoption at all costs, but as a lost child to be redirected. He would have even said that she was truly concerned about the future of Eastcountry. He liked those teenage bracelets that covered almost half of her forearm and that she refused to take off. And that frown she made when she knew she was right.
He heard the bellowing of some ungrateful people somewhere in the darkness beyond the fence, demanding his participation in the war. He pulled out the master control and activated the benzene sprinklers. The echo of shouts and coughs ended the protest.
His affair with Marta Weyland had been a bumpy ride, full of thrilling downhills and dangerous surprises around every corner. So when that ended, she seemed to have shifted into less and less feigned hostility. It still hurt him.
When the figure of the emperor of the gellids appeared on the holovisor in the center of the communications room, Simmons didn't bother to get dressed. In fact, he might as well have dropped his underpants. Worrying about etiquette in front of those creatures would have been as absurd as wearing a tie to make a speech to a dog.
“We are pleased with the progress on our agreement,” the voice Simmons heard over the clicks and clatters with which the gellids communicated was the one generated by the automatic translator. “The emissary will arrive to deliver payment to your life entity before the arrival of sunlight to the quadrant inhabited by your life entity.”
The gellids, almost as old as the universe, had refined their devious stratagems over millions of years to the point where they hardly had to invest any resources to achieve their goals. As repulsed as he was by them, Simmons had studied their wiles thoroughly.
“And I am pleased that you are pleased,” he showed them the middle finger of both hands. During his conversations with them he rehearsed all sorts of gestures that would not have been well tolerated by a human. And for all he knew, it
was possible that they were doing something similar, every time they shook their limbs or wrinkled some protuberance on their face. “As for your spacecraft, I'll be waiting on the rooftop of my residence having a bloody Mary,” he turned around, pulled down his shorts and rhythmically spreading his buttocks apart continued, as if we humans could also articulate words with our butts. “My life entity thanks you for your support. Over and out.”
He managed to culminate his intervention with a warm, dry but diplomatic trumpeting. The emperor of the gellids brought two of his limbs together and bowed his head solemnly before closing the connection.
Actually, there's room for anything out there.
Volpenier, Compendium of Exobiology
Night had fallen over Erebus. Kronos illuminated the peaceful rocky surface around them with a soft marbled light. Inside the Titan's common room, under the light of the halogen tubes that lined the ceiling frieze, Fox and Edelmann talked, each on one side of the chessboard, which still retained the dramatic final scene of the battle.
Edelmann added a couple of fingers of bourbon to his coffee.
Fox pulled out the photograph he kept in his pocket and placed it on the table between the cups of bourbon. What was shown there was the surface of the Great Ocean, dotted with flashes of Pharex. And beneath it, a gigantic, dark mass that was out of frame could be guessed. Between the flashes of water and the blackness below, the silhouette of what might well be triangular teeth surrounded an even murkier darkness.
Edelmann glanced around.
“The water. So what?”
“Don't you see it? It's right there.”
Edelmann looked again.
“I don't see anything special.”
Andromeda Expedition Page 8
