Dusk (24 page)

Forty-seven gyres since the first.

He rolled the number around in his head.
Divided it by three point six five.

Twelve point eight or so. Close to thirteen
years between the first ship landing and the war.

The war had begun about six hundred seven or
six hundred eight years ago. Ended a little more than six hundred
years ago. That was why the light was reaching Asha from the
explosion in the next few Dhekads.

Outside of relativity, the Paracelsus had
left earth six hundred thirty-one years ago.

Only a little more than ten or eleven years
before the faster-than light ship could have possibly been
launched.

But, according to Jang, the FTL technology
took eight years to develop. In Cyrus’s experience with Jang, he
had seldom, if ever, been wrong with his figures—especially not
simple ones.

Eight years. They had begun developing the
faster-than-light technology four years after the Asha expedition
had left. If Cyrus had not heard about it before, it meant that it
had begun development not too long after it had been proposed—which
would have been no later than a year before…

…there was no way the Uni could have spared
the expense of two interplanetary expeditions, was there? No, not
when a more efficient method was less than a decade away.

Which meant, by typical Uni protocol, the
production of the FTL ship would have preempted the launch of the
Damocles. Cyrus asked again just in case
he
had been
mistaken, “How many gyres did it take them to develop the FTL ship
again?”

There was a pause, as if it took a moment to
translate Cyrus’s question, and then finally Jang realized and
answered, “Thirty.”

Thirty. The word solidified in the
air—scorching at the surface, and yet impossibly cold at the core.
It was a comet that invaded Cyrus’s atmosphere, eclipsing his sky.
Then, defenseless, his eyes sank below the horizon, as the comet,
with all the impact of a myriad of nuclear weapons, collided with
his own world, knocking it off its kilter.

Tanner could see, in that moment, Cyrus’s
dark days expanded to months, years, a lifetime as his entire world
teetered sideways. The renewed life Cyrus had engendered in himself
the last five years sank through the cracks, hiding beneath the
surface; the lines in Cyrus’s face became clearer, his cheeks
quivered, and Tanner knew a thick ocean of isolation and self-hate
was filling the void beneath, faster than his hand could reach
Cyrus’s shoulder. It was a futile attempt at comfort—but he left it
there anyway.

Cyrus retreated wordlessly, walking with
hard-mustered dignity—a barely perceptible drag in his step. The
others seemed oblivious to the weight. Tanner himself would not
have figured it out by now. He only knew because Cyrus knew. And
even though Cyrus had not said anything, Jang himself was clearly
working through the figures in his own head, and those among them
that had relatives on the way would also soon realize, in their own
time, that they were never going to see their families or friends
again.

• • • • •

—
I got something to tell you Dada, but I don’t
know if you will get upset.

—
Well, you won’t know until you tell me right,
Dari. What is it?

—
I just want to say… I love you, Dada.

—
Wow, Dari. Why would you think I would get upset
at that?

—
I dunno Dada. Just cuz you don’t ever say
it.

—
Oh Dari. Sometimes I work so hard to show it, I
think I forget to say it… So many people say it and don’t mean
it—to get whatever it is they think they want. I just want it to be
true. Whether or not it is said is secondary. But you should never
be ashamed of saying it or showing it if you really mean
it.

—
Like when people ask how you are doing, right
Dada? They don’t always mean it, but they say it all the time.
Sometimes it’s enough just to know the other person wants you to be
doing good.

—
Yeah, exactly.

—
That makes sense, but it’s still nice to hear it
sometimes.

—
I suppose I can see that. Do you ever feel like
I don’t show it?

—
Never to me, but maybe mommy sometimes. I think
sometimes mommy doesn’t see it.

—
Maybe, Dari.

—
Do you ever talk with mommy like this?

—
I used to.

—
Because this is when I see it the most you know.
When we talk, you know, like man-to-man and stuff.

—
Well, it’d be kind of hard for me to talk
man-to-man with your mother.

—
Maybe you should try.

—
You know, maybe I should.

—
Know what, Dada?

—
What’s that Dari?

—
You may not be very good at saying it, but you
are good at showing it I think—in your own way.

—
Well, good at showing it or not, I do love you
son.

—
I love you too, Dada. Can you promise me
something?

—
Sure.

—
When you have that man-to-man talk with mommy,
tell her you love her too. Okay?

—
I will Dari. I will.

• • • • •

“Must be hard stuck in this chimp hovel without your
Bible.” Before he spoke, Cyrus waited until Tanner had lifted his
head from his prayer.

Tanner looked at Cyrus and smiled through the
weary lines of his face. “Well, I wouldn’t think much of myself if
I didn’t carry it around here.” He pointed to his own temple,
leaving his index finger at the side of his head for a long
moment.

Cyrus laughed. He seemed more amused at his
own thoughts than at Tanner’s actions.

“What’s so amusing?”

“The soul of the academic dies hard. It seems
like most would have pointed to their hearts.”

“Well I think if more people carried the Word
in their heads rather than their hearts, holy wars and religious
persecution wouldn’t exist; at least not to the levels it has
throughout history.”

“No kidding.”

There was a long pause until Cyrus yawned and
buried his face in his hands. As he exhaled into his palms, Tanner
thought he heard him mumble the words, “I’m planning on getting out
of here.”

Tanner paused again and then continued,
“Unfortunately, too many walk with the Word, but don’t understand
it. The upside is that I believe there are many who understand the
Word, and who walk with guidance, even without the
indoctrination.”

Cyrus was sure Tanner had heard and had
understood him. “You know me. Even without rules or a plan, I
wouldn’t even take the slightest shuffle forward without guidance.”
Cyrus looked at Tanner until he met his gaze. Tanner’s eyes were
staid, unwavering, so Cyrus continued, “But even a man with ample
guidance needs help from his friends to stay on the path.”

“Well, you know me too. I believe there is no
path other than the path where you are needed. Life is full of hard
choices. A life full of easy paths, to me, is no life at all. But,
just like many men choose the easy path just because it is easy, a
few choose the path of most resistance for the resistance’s sake. I
can follow a man down that path so long as he knows it only leads
to disaster and he accepts the responsibility.”

“Well, there is no longer anything for me
down the easy ave. I made that choice a long time ago, just wasn’t
able to see the full scope until now. But I think I remember that
somewhere in that Book of yours it says that not being able to see
the end of the path doesn’t necessarily mean you shouldn’t follow
it.”

“Yeah, well who knows what is at the end of
that ave?”

“Well maybe it’s a bright light. Maybe it’s
more misery. Maybe it’s another choice. But one way or the other,
whatever is at the end is yours and no one else’s. I think
that
is worth the trouble, no matter what that trouble
is.”

“Amen to that.” Tanner extended his hand and
they shook firmly in agreement, and then, as they released, Tanner
focused on Cyrus. “Out of curiosity, who else agrees with your
philosophy?”

“Well, you remember Dr. Azariah?”

“The military kinesiologist?” Tanner made a
point of not looking at Commander Uzziah who walked by as they
spoke.

Cyrus didn’t look up either. “Yeah, the
obnoxious coxswain for the Arcology of Haifa,” he said,
intentionally loud enough for Uzziah to overhear.

Uzziah grunted, mumbled something
unintelligible under his breath, and then knelt next to the
holostation, still within earshot. Cyrus continued, again loud
enough for Uzziah to hear, but not loud enough to be obvious, “Well
he started the whole dialectic. He suggested I set up a symposium
with Dr.
Cheat-ham
...”

Tanner paused for a moment, searching his
memory. “The keycard guy?”

“Yeah, that one. Cheat-ham said he knew of a
professor from some place in Greece, you know, the guy who always
uses that ‘city of tightrope walkers’ analogy. Well that professor
was a little miffed with the opposition, so he wanted to write a
treatise as well.”

“A good didactic rant can be cleansing.”

“Well, I didn’t get to set up anything before
departure, but I know there are at least three others on the other
ship that are always up for a bit of
cleansing
.”

Tanner could not help laughing, but Uzziah
turned with a disturbed look on his face. He met Cyrus’s eyes for
only a moment, but Uzziah’s concern was evident.

Then Cyrus turned back to Tanner, his brow
was furrowed and his jaw tense—the same look that he wore when he
was sparring. “Before the cleansing, I need to plant the seed,” he
breathed into his nose deeply and then exhaled, “and I need to do
it now.”

Cyrus extended his arm forcefully and grabbed
a handful of Tanner’s shirt just below his throat. Tanner was
almost startled at the abruptness of the assault, but had he not
trusted Cyrus implicitly, his hand would never have reached his
chest. Tanner looked down at Cyrus’s hand then back at Cyrus, “What
the fuck do you want from me?”

“Your cooperation!” erupted from Cyrus’s
mouth as he twisted the shirt in his hand, pulling Tanner in
closer.

“I’m going to ask you once and only once to
take your grimy paw off my shirt.” Uzziah stayed focused on the
holovision. He had an idea where this was all going, but had to let
it play out. Villichez and Winberg, however, turned their attention
away from the images on the floor and Villichez began moving toward
Cyrus. Tanner saw Villichez moving toward them with his hand
extending slightly. Villichez parted his lips to say something, but
it was too late, Tanner was already slapping Cyrus’s hand away with
his right hand and bringing his left around in a fist.

Tanner’s hand connected with the side of
Cyrus’s head, sending him off the bed and into the floor. Tanner
then lunged from the bed and swung his left foot into Cyrus’s ribs,
adding to Cyrus’s momentum and sending him rolling toward
Villichez. “You’re gonna get us all killed, you stupid
freebirth!”

Villichez moved to get between them, but then
hesitated. That was not an insult he had expected to come from
Tanner. Something was off. Besides, from what he knew of their
relationship, it was not like Cyrus, even under duress, to take a
threat from Dr. Tanner lightly, or to take a beating with no effort
to fight back.

In the time Villichez hesitated, Tanner had
kicked Cyrus again. Cyrus was coughing now, curling himself into a
ball. Something was definitely wrong about this entire display.
“Give it up! This whole hound-fucked fiasco is over, get it,
over!”

Tanner moved to kick Cyrus again, but was
snatched off his feet by Uzziah, who turned, stepped through the
hologram, and pinned Tanner against the wall. Tanner kicked his
legs out but missed Uzziah entirely. Uzziah held him there against
the wall, forearm pressed against his chest. As the two of them
looked at each other, they understood completely. Neither of them
wanted to show their hand to whoever might be watching, but they
both knew the other was not fighting at the fullest of his
potential.

As Villichez tried to look after Cyrus, Cyrus
slapped his hand away. Jang and Toutopolus stood around also,
offering helping hands, but were met with the same resistance.
Winberg chuckled, but a glare from Villichez quickly stifled
it.

And then the door opened. No one could have
seen it because his face was buried in his forearms, but Cyrus
smiled. He didn’t look up, but the hurried footsteps moving toward
him told him his plan was working. Hands grabbed him, lifted him
up, and he stayed curled up like a prawn as they hauled him out of
the room like luggage.

They didn’t bother with Tanner or Uzziah.
Uzziah let Tanner drop and mumbled, “Later for us,” without parting
his lips. Tanner brushed himself off, looking to the floor and
coughed, spitting out a guttural, “Ani yoda’a”; ‘I know’. Uzziah
stood and paused, he must have been fazed by the Hebrew, but he
didn’t show it. Besides, it was not totally unexpected from Tanner
given his field of expertise. Tanner stood, rubbed his chest, and
stepped out of the hologram. Uzziah gave him a brisk pat on the
back and then nodded. Tanner returned the nod and then shuffled his
feet over to the bed, evidently ashamed of his outburst. When he
reached the bed, he pulled himself up to the top bunk and buried
his face in his pillow.

• • • • •

Cyrus took in as much as he could from the
view through his forearms. He remembered this hall clearly because
they had been ushered down it from their ‘debriefing room’. It was
easy to count the men’s steps as they carried him because he
bounced with each one. After the twenty-third step, the men turned
to the right. Cyrus whimpered a little to himself and then let out
a quiet, but wrenching, sob. He sniffled to add authenticity, and
in the moment it took him to recover, he tried to take in as much
of the hallway as he could. The dim orange of fading sunlight
filled his vision, indicating there was an atrium or a dais that
overlooked the glass façade of the building. It could have been the
rear of the building, but that was not likely. The scientists had
been led down this hall on the first day, but they had been brought
around the back side of the hall. Cyrus wished he had been
conscious upon his initial entrance, but there was not much that
could be done about that now. There were another twenty-five steps,
another right turn, ten more steps, and then the men pressed an
access button to open a door. The door slid open and a sliver of
light poured in through the opening. There was a chair in the
center of the room. The soldiers plopped him into the chair like a
sandbag and then they left wordlessly. The descending door shrank
the sliver of light until he was left shrouded in darkness.