Orb (12 page)

“I’ll shut up,” she said, looking glum, her anger turning to somber resignation. “For now.”

“Wise choice,” Kelly said, trying to break the tension.

“Larry,” Thompson said, refocusing his attention. “Is there anything to indicate that you programmed
Ixodes
to return before the time I specified—twenty-two hundred hours? I’ll phrase that a different way: Will the AI log show she was
at any time
programmed to enter into quiet mode?”

“No.”

“Without such proof, I’m forced to conclude you deliberately disobeyed my explicit instructions. Do you wish to explain or argue the point?”

“There’s no point.”

“My expedition log,” Thompson said, looking troubled, “will have to reflect that fact.”

Straightforward, and, on the face of it, not excessively punitive. Except Melhaus knew otherwise. Weighing the consequences of the action, his shoulders drooped and a dark expression seeped into his face. Of all of us, he had the gravest sense, perhaps overly so, of exactly what those consequences were likely to be: The expedition record eventually being made public; the public and, more important, the scientific community, being apprised of his error in judgment; his having to bear the humiliating insult of explaining the loss of
Ixodes
to those he considered intellectual inferiors. In the final analysis, the illustrious Doctor Melhaus would be forced to contend with a stain besmirching an otherwise spotless career.

“I’m pushing back the morning meeting an hour,” Thompson said, addressing us all. “Doctor Melhaus. Ten minutes. My cabin. You and I shall use part of the time to reexamine
Ixodes’
operational records.”

I grabbed Diana by the arm, indicating that we should speak in private. As I did so Thompson gave me a quick nod to indicate that was exactly what he wanted me to do. At the same time I noticed Paul initiating a conversation with Melhaus. Good, I thought. If you can’t calm him down, nobody can. For the moment, he and Kelly were the only crewmembers that Doctor Melhaus had not engaged in some type of verbal altercation.

“The arrogance of the man,” Diana said to me when I had her alone, her voice equal measures of accusation and contrition. “Keeping
Ixodes
in search mode hours past when Thompson ordered, then compounding his fault by falling asleep.”

“You have a right to be very upset,” I said.

“Two days ago I was so excited about the potential here,” Diana lamented. “Now….” Her voice trailed off as she tried to come to terms with her rapidly diminishing expectations.

“I can’t imagine how you feel, but I
can
say you’ve done your best.”

“I wish
I
believed that,” she said.

“If you don’t believe me, ask any member of the crew … OK, maybe you shouldn’t ask Larry right now.” If I knew anything with certainty, it was that Diana was more susceptible to laughter than self-pity: She would take my approach lightheartedly.

“Thompson was right,” she volunteered. “I didn’t handle the situation very well.”

“Could have been a tad better. But listen, considering what you were reacting to, it’s hard for anyone to fault your language. I can tell you about
my
recent skill in the verbal arena. Between Kelly and me.”

“Kelly did tell me she was a little disappointed with herself. That she made you unhappy.”

“What?!” I said, wondering if I heard correctly. “Is that what she told you?!”

“Yes,” Diana answered, the faintest of smiles breaking through. “You seem disconcerted. Isn’t it true?”

“It’s a
very
charitable way of Kelly looking at my having been a complete ass. In a space of thirty seconds I was able to unload on her a lifetime of insensitivity.
That’s
how it was. And it’s my extensive résumé of dealing with my own callousness which qualifies me to offer this advice:
If
you think you overstepped with Larry, the sooner you try to apologize, the better.”

“And what about the remark he made to me when we first set foot here, doesn’t that deserve an apology?”

“Yes, of course, but maybe, for us, Kelly’s example is far better to follow.”

“He’s a difficult person to apologize to.”

“I did say
try
. If he doesn’t accept graciously, well … well, I guess you can stake claim to the moral high ground.”

Diana reflected, and then said, “Let me ask you. Do you think Melhaus is on thin ice?”

“Just enough to support him, but the ice does seem to be cracking.”

“Puts Thompson in a very difficult position,” she said.

“Not too many viable options considering where we are, what we’re supposed to accomplish here, and how we rely on each other.”

“No.” Diana’s eyes briefly took on a faraway look of contemplation while she played out possible scenarios. “I’ll apologize. If, for no other reason, keeping the peace makes Thompson’s job easier.”

“Can’t hurt,” I said “I’ll let you in on a little secret. On at least one occasion, and there’ll probably be several more, I’ve resisted the urge to tell the esteemed Doctor Melhaus to go drown himself in the nearest ocean.”

“Very funny.”

We climbed the steps into
Desio
, heading for our respective cabins. As I was about to enter mine, Diana stopped me.

“Oh, Kyle, by the way, I know a little secret, too.” She flashed me an evil little grin. “About you and Kelly. Yesterday. At the cove.”

“Oh you do, do you?” I said, feigning ignorance.

“Of course.” And to prove to me she really did know, she childishly hugged herself and puckered her lips to mimic two persons kissing.

“Well, since you know all my little secrets, I’ll have to come up with another.” This said as I closed my cabin door on her while she stood there smirking.

Flopping on the bed, I put my hands behind my head and stared up at the metal alloy ceiling.

I felt good about the conversation with Diana. I had intended to help her out of her melancholy mood, and perhaps I did. Her willingness to apologize to Melhaus was a bonus.

In retrospect, however, I wondered if I walked away from the conversation getting more than I gave. I only alluded to my screwup with Kelly to help make a point, but Diana seized upon it. What were her exact words? “Kelly was disappointed with
herself
for making
me
unhappy?” That amazed me, and Diana took notice. “Isn’t it true?” were her words, and said with a repressed smile, no less. OK, Diana, I get it, and it’s worth getting: You wanted me to realize that Kelly was putting my feelings ahead of her own.

I heard Angie barking in the distance. At what? Presumably there’s nothing on this planet to bark at. With the submersible gone, if there was anything residing in that bottomless ocean it had seven days to come slithering up to us and extend a dripping tentacle. I can imagine far stranger scenarios, enough to fill a book. The scenarios I can’t imagine, however, would fill an infinite number of books, and for that reason—and for what I almost saw the other day, I hadn’t given up hope.

I exited
Desio
and walked over to where Angie was romping at the shoreline.

“What are you up to my inquisitive little friend?” Bending down to pet her, I glanced out toward where she had been barking, discovering only an endless expanse of ocean. “You’re no longer talking, eh? Perhaps that is for the better. Talking to people can get you in trouble.”

She stared back at me, eyes glistening, tail vibrating. Not wagging. Her tail is too short and moves too rapidly to say it wags. We left the shoreline to join Paul, seated at the table that had been placed on the hard rock immediately adjacent to
Desio
.

“And?” I asked Paul, as I sat down.

“Cloudy, with a chance of light showers,” he said, correctly inferring that I was inquiring about the tone of his conversation with Melhaus. “And you?”

“You have a smart mate.”

“Please don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Never,” I said, returning his smile, as Diana slipped into the chair across from us.

“You two talking about me?” she asked.

“Never,” Paul and I answered in unison, and much too quickly.

“Liars,” Diana said, reaching over the table to punch each of us hard in the shoulder.

Considering recent events, both Paul and Diana appeared to be in fine spirits.

Thompson sat down. He was unreadable. He’d probably say the same about me if I gave him half a chance.

Kelly and Melhaus exited
Desio
to join us. Kelly took a seat next to me, a long leg casually brushing against me under the table. I was going to have trouble concentrating. Melhaus, looking stern, assumed his usual place at the table’s far end.

Thompson deliberately made eye contact with each of us before speaking.

“Did any of you expect this to be easy?”

Nobody was foolish enough to answer in the affirmative.

“I didn’t think so. But, for whatever reason, we do seem intent on making it harder. So let’s retrace a bit and consider the problem of
Ixodes
.

“Larry and I agree on one thing: The AI log indicates she was fully operational up until the moment her signal ceased at thirteen-thousand meters. The signal from the emergency transponder terminated shortly after. This suggests to me that a guidance system malfunction sent her to the bottom. There is insufficient data for one-hundred percent confirmation, but for all practical purposes, we must consider the submersible irretrievably lost.

“Diana, I realize that’s a major blow to your efforts and to the mission. But let’s look at it from a different perspective. We arrived here safely.
Ixodes
was successfully detached, became operational, and went on to obtain considerable data on thermoclines, currents, water chemistry and the prevalence of the phytoplankton. Bear in mind your own words, too: That there is every indication that no other life forms are present. That would be no less true if we had one sub or one hundred exploring this planet’s ocean.”

So far, I thought, Thompson was taking just the right balance.

“You are aware,” Thompson went on, “that for safety concerns, and to optimize our time on the planet, I was issued orders not to task
Desio
with unnecessary take-offs and landings. I’m going to consider what happened to
Ixodes
as an extenuating circumstance that warrants overriding that directive. In the next couple of days, baring any unforeseen developments, I’ll take under advisement moving to another location.”

“That would suit me just fine,” Diana said. “But in fairness, I’ll defer to the others. Dismantling our equipment and setting it up again is quite a disruption.”

We needed no elaboration of the “safety concern” to which Thompson referred. Timely rescue was an impossibility. Our limited food supply meant a serious malfunction, one that prevented
Desio
from leaving the planet, would be equivalent to a protracted death sentence. The grim possibility was planned for: Six L-Capsules (and a smaller one for Angie) ingested at each person’s discretion.

“One more thing,” Thompson said. “I want to remind you that our short time here limits what we can accomplish. Consider this: Earth’s ocean has yet to be completely explored. What does that say about the task of exploring an ocean with twice the volume of water? The secrets this planet holds will not be uncovered in one week, or one year, and perhaps not in several lifetimes. Now, is there anything anybody wants to add about this matter before we get down to specifics concerning our work?”

“There is one thing I’d like to say,” Diana began, without hesitation. “To Doctor Melhaus.”

I had to give Diana credit for what she was about to do. Apologizing was never easy, especially when you’re not convinced it’s warranted. As for Melhaus, he raised an eyebrow and appeared leery (I couldn’t blame him) of what she might say.

“There are times,” Diana continued, “when I open my mouth and people are amazed at what comes out. Sometimes, truthfully, I’m no less amazed. And sometimes, Larry, as in our earlier conversation, I regret the harsh words I use. You have my apology.”

Melhaus, impassively (and perhaps to the best of his ability) accepted what was offered.

“Acknowledged,” he said. We had come to expect little more.

“Fine…” Thompson began, hoping to move on. Melhaus had other ideas.

“—but the apology just as well could have come from Mr. Lorenzo.”

I said earlier that the day was sizing up to be full of surprises. This one was going to be personally troublesome. I was not alone in this feeling. I felt Kelly’s leg tense next to mine.

“I’d accommodate you, Larry,” I said in response, “but I’m not at all sure what you are referring to.”

“It was
your
story that impugned the work of us scientists.”

I was at a loss. Was Melhaus actually misconstruing the objective of my story—a warning about not communicating—as criticizing scientists and their work? “That certainly wasn’t my intention,” I said, hoping simple sincerity would be sufficient to put an end to the discussion.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Melhaus persisted. “‘To rein in you mad scientists,’ I believe, were your exact words.”

“My story, actually my professor’s story, was emphasizing communication. Or lack of it. To make a valid point.” I held back mentioning that the “mad scientist” remark was simply a reaction to a comment made by Thompson about my B.A. degree. Wherever this discussion was leading, I did not consider it a good idea to bring him into the mix.

“Yet I find it hard to believe,” Melhaus responded, pressing his argument, “that it was only by chance you used scientists to further your point.”

“That, Larry, was fill in the blank. Scientist, politician, writer, priest. All interchangeable. We’re all subject to the same failings.”

“You’ve made other offhand remarks. Isn’t the pertinent discussion your underlying suspicion of scientists? That our accomplishments come at too high a price? That scientists shouldn’t have spliced genes or split atoms because others have abused the privilege of this knowledge?”

“Let me tell you plainly: I don’t have a high or low opinion of scientists as a class. That would imply I distinguish their innate character as different from everyone else’s. But with power and influence, and now scientists have more, comes responsibility and accountability. I hold no double standard. Those wearing the mantle of author should not be immune to the same scrutiny. There have been times words alone have been used to perpetrate evil: Hitler’s
Mein Kampf
and Nietzsche’s
Thus Spoke
Zarathustra,
for example.”