He Without Sin (32 page)

“There was nothing else you could do,” he says outwardly calm but now I’m quite sure he’s upset with me.

I sit silent for a few minutes. He gives me the medical ‘all clear’ from my long exposure to the people and various pathogens out in the world.

“Or could you?” he suddenly asks with that frozen stare of his. “Did you have to engineer this last project of yours? Is it really that important? Why not let them be? They have to figure out life on their own, just like we all do. Is there anything we can do, really, that will have any long-lasting effect, other than what we’ve already done?” He turns his stare away and says, “What a waste.”

“Doc, David agreed,” I say in defense. “I’m not saying the plan wasn’t mine. Ours. And it’s my responsibility. David saw the effect of Brachus’ interaction. He agreed that we should try to do something to correct it. In my view, we owed it to the people to try to help them back on the right path.” No response from Doc other than he quits fiddling with his equipment and returns my gaze.

“There is a precedent,” I add, and this time I get a questioning eyebrow raised as a response. “It’s in the archives…”

“I’d like to see that,” he snaps.

“No problem, I will send you the link. And, yes, I do think we will have a long term effect. Tell you what, look at the report from the mission archive and we’ll talk again.”

The stare. And then, his expression breaks from the confrontational stare and Doc resumes puttering about the little lab. “I’ll read it.”

______

“Where’s your stuff?” ask Mark as he surveys my quarters.

“Already gone. I travel light.”

“Hah, what? Already gone?”

“If you mean my personal items, they are already gone. Carol and I packed together and she said you took it.”

“I took it? Where is your stuff again?” asks Mark as if he didn’t comprehend at all.

“With Carol’s. You have it already. You OK?”

“Oh. I have it. OK, if you say so.”

“I marked all the equipment and tools and the rest. You see? Anything not marked, you can dispose of as you please. More trouble from Brachus?”

“Ha. Not for me, but for somebody. He’s coming for you next, you know.”

“No, I don’t know but let him come. What’s it all about?”

“No comment. I’m out of it. Gotta run, see ya.”

“Mark?”

“What?”

“Somebody once told me ‘relax, they can’t leave without you, plenty of time’, or something to that effect. Remember?”

Gleshert gave out some guarded good news. Dylan
seems stable and whatever else happens, he will be
coming home with us.

There have been some final data acquired that are
troubling. We have underestimated the total native
population. It’s not a large error but on the other
hand it’s statistically significant. I haven’t discussed
the portent of this with anyone, not even Carol. I
should, though, at least talk it over with her. What
it means is that ‘our’ people, the so-called chosen
ones, may not be enough. They and their progeny
may not be able to dominate the planet after all. It
depends on relative reproduction rates. We can
only hope now that the train-the-trainer approach
we took works and works real well. If it doesn’t,
there’s a good chance that competing philosophies
will emerge and delay the hoped-for advancement.

The more I think about our reward or ‘carrot’ idea, the more I like it. It’s not a false promise, but I do agree with Carol it might be misleading. After all,
they won’t have the technology for many hundreds
or thousands of years to perform any of the
medical miracles they have witnessed. But the
promise is real. They have seen that it can be done. Further, long ago their ancestors witnessed and
recorded the long lifespans that are possible, again
with pretty advanced technology, but that are
certainly possible. Part of Dylan’s message was, if
they believe and promote his teachings, that the
promise of long life in a more ideal world is a real
possibility. It’s our hope that, coupled with the
senseless tragedy they witnessed in the brutal
‘sacrifice’ of Dylan, they will begin to renounce the
primitive behaviors of insane wars and violent
aggression based on greed and lust. It’s a shame
that during the time Brachus held sway in the field
he, in his quest to fulfill David’s desire that the
prime lineage be protected, encouraged wars and
battles. It will make the transition that much more
difficult.

Carol and I are both having second thoughts about
the inclusion of an aspect that was raised and
accepted by the team: that of a threat. The overall
message is one thing, but we decided to include a
threat that we will return in the future to see how
things are going. In other words, ‘you’d better
behave ‘cause we’ll be back, either to welcome you
into the larger universe of civilized worlds or else…’

No matter now. Nothing else can be done. We are
all done. It is what it is. The small steps that we’ve made on this mission are over, for good or ill. But if
we move back and take a larger perspective, it’s
rosy. What used to be a molten ball of iron is now a
nearly ideal habitat for life. The life it has is
compatible in a fundamental way with ours. The
people on it, while primitive, have the potential to
join our larger society, someday, as equals. Like I
said, rosy.

Misstep

I don’t believe it; here he comes again. This time I offer no greeting, no nod; I just look. I am in the middle of what used to be my base camp quarters dismantling, sorting, and crating.

“Hey, there he is. Just where I left ya’,” says Wes sort of to me, sort of to himself. The grin is wearing thin, that’s for certain. I choose to continue only to look, waiting for him to continue with whatever his business is. “You sure you won’t help me?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve got all this…,” gesturing at the remnants of my quarters. “Tell me again, exactly, what do you need help with?”

“Like I said, some help with my gear and other stuff from our visit. I’m overweight, and I don’t mean here,” he says, rubbing his abdomen and grinning still.

I am real tempted to make a comment but stifle it. “What kind of stuff?”

“Just some… keepsakes. What does it matter what? I just need some help.” I don’t respond and the grin disappears in a flash. “Forget it. I’ll get them myself.” He starts to turn to go, but stops himself and says, “I understand you are under your weight limit. I presume you won’t…”

“How do you know that? Never mind. Go ahead?”

“You won’t mind if I use up some of your allotment, will you, old pal?”

I turn away, and think, not of his question, but of his nerve. “Yeah. Ok. Whatever. Knock yourself out.” Anything, to be done with him.

______

It is with some amusement that later I see Brachus lugging two cases, one in each hand, and a smaller bundle under his left arm, across our base camp common area. He came from somewhere over behind what used to be Mark’s raw materials storage area and is heading to the uplift staging platform. He has to stop now and then to re-position the bundle by sort of hopping and moving his left elbow in and out. It’s a sight. He doesn’t see me in the small remnant of the mess hall, the only place left where there is some shade, but I can see him, no grin now, sweating with his effort.

Just as I am leaving my table—
the
table, as the rest have already been recycled—I see Brachus hurry off empty-handed in the same direction from which he had just recently emerged. ‘More?’ I think. I watch him long enough to see that he’s going out beyond Mark’s works, out of our base camp area entirely. As he enters and begins to climb one of the narrow craggy fissures that lead up into the surrounding mountains, I lose sight of him.

“You ready?” asks Porter as he and Craig both approach just then.

“You mean to go help him?” and I throw a nod towards Brachus’ direction.

“No, can’t. I’m prepping to take another load. And you with it. And Wes if he’s ready.”

“Me neither. I’m heading out for another sweep. The final one,” adds Craig.

I’m puzzled and I must look it.

“We’ve been visiting our remote sites making sure we’ve collected everything. Not supposed to leave any hardware or anything, you know. Erase the traces, and all that.”

“Of course. Are you finding anything out there?”

“Yeah, sure. There’s always something.” Craig pauses, glances at Porter before continuing. “There have been a few visitors too.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve talked to them, such as I’m able. All that time helping you out there paid off—I can talk to them.”

“No kidding. Be careful.”

“No worries. The visits don’t amount to much. I’m sticking to Dylan’s program as best I can…”

“Anyway, you’re scheduled to go up next, as soon as you are set,” interrupts Porter.

“I see. Yes, I’m ready.”

______

On my way up to the ship I ride alone with Porter and a full load of cargo. I scrunch in near a bulkhead. There are bundles, crates, various-sized cases, bulk material—all strapped down tight for ascent. There are remnants of Amara here; I see traces of reddish dust and grit on some of the pieces. A souvenir from our travels. I wonder about cross-contamination. I mean, we are careful enough, as I understand it, to decontaminate everything and everyone uplifted to the Hobbe but what about the other direction? Are we sure that we don’t bring contaminants with us down to the planet? I’ve heard all about the protocols in place, but you never know. Too late to worry about that now.

We ascend and I move closer to a small viewport to watch the receding surface of the planet on which we have spent so much time. I think of Carol and how we have become close during this stay, of David and his struggles as a leader, of course of Dylan and his passion for the people down below.

The port allows for only a limited glimpse; it is the last close-up view I will have of this world. I try to embed it in my memory knowing all the while it is a futile effort. The images and videos I and the rest of the team have captured will substitute for our limited and imperfect memories.

______

“Where is he?”

“Are you asking
me
?”

“Yes, I am asking you. Who do you think I’m asking? I’m looking right at you!”

I’ve inadvertently triggered the appearance of Mr. Means. “I don’t know where he is. Last I saw he was hauling a couple cases of goods to be transported up. They came up with me and he was still down there.” I want to add that I’m not in the habit of tracking the moment-by-moment whereabouts of Master Brachus, but think better of it.

David Means eyes me suspiciously and works his lower lip. Out, in, Out, in. “He can’t be reached; his communicator is broken or dead.”

“David, I checked all genies for proper operation just a couple days ago. Maybe he doesn’t want to be reached.”

“Doesn’t want… What do you mean?”

“Maybe there’s a simple explanation. Is everyone else accounted for? Lester? Tracy?”

“Yes, yes, both here. Tracy’s been working with me and I’ve had Grigor and Lester working together on resource stowage and inventory for a few days now.

It takes an extra effort on my part to stifle a smile as I picture Grigor and Lester trying to get along.

“Give me a few minutes. I can check for him from here. Even if he’s not responding, there’s always the safety beacon. Even I don’t know how to disable that.” As I walk away I hear David talking on his communicator with Mark.

Just as I suspected, Brachus’ beacon is active and strong, although he does not respond to me either. The safety beacons of the others on the surface have a strong signal as well. That’s Mark and Craig. Porter’s is out there too but weak. He must be in transit.

Carol is not in her shipboard work area, and I decide not to look for her in her quarters in case she is resting. I tentatively fiddle with Carol’s optical equipment, but give up for now. I prefer to wait rather than mess something up. I doubt anyway if the view is sufficiently detailed enough to see anything useful at base camp, but David’s angst earlier has me thinking about Brachus. A look can’t hurt, so as soon as I can I will take a gander.

______

Carol and I maintain separate official quarters, but spend a lot of time together even so. I have just ‘today’—our time cycles are going to get way off again, now that we are back aboard ship—set up my small personal space with the few items that I unpacked from her cargo boxes. And I’m helping her unpack her things now. Grigor appears at the hatchway abruptly and says, “Better check your screen mate. Someone’s trying to get your attention.”

I make my way back to my screen. He’s right. Holy smoke, I am picking up emergency signals from the surface! David is trying to raise me on my comms unit too and the persistent emergency alarm has just begun buzzing in the ship. Why oh why did I choose just this one time to leave my genie in my quarters?

“Hey, David, yes I’m here. I’m looking at it right now. They’re all three going off down there. No, wait. Just two. Brachus’ beacon is strong, but he’s not sending an emergency signal. Oh, here you are,” I say as David appears in my quarters.

“Hang on,” he says. And then to me, “I just dropped Mark. Pick him up now.”

I get Mark on the speaker.

“Mark, it’s Jason and David. What’s going on?”

“It’s not good. I got your message about looking for Wes…”

“I’ve got his beacon, strong.”