Orb (26 page)

“What he has done is reconfigured the turret laser and threaten to burn a hole clear through anyone approaching.” Then, almost as an afterthought, Thompson said, “Kyle, you have to appreciate his flair for the dramatic.”

“Can he do what he says?” I asked.

“The laser would be quite lethal. Better keep Angie on a short leash when you approach.”

“We’re on our way,” Paul said.

We dressed quickly, collecting the few items we had while exchanging concerned glances, hoping to find assurance in each other, wondering what was ahead of us, fearful that our lives were in the hands of a person we thought we had come to know, but in many ways was a complete stranger.

During the trip back, I internalized feelings that ran the gamut from self-recrimination (could I have done more to prevent Melhaus’s breakdown?), to fear (examining the tenuous nature of our lives on this isolated planet), to outrage (how dare one ego hold us hostage). I returned to the familiar place where I typically sought refuge: The lonely inner sanctum where my justifications for avoiding people resided.

Only I found I couldn’t reside there long, for I discovered one subtle and contradictory thought unexpectedly intruding. I had not shared with Kelly my idea for communicating with the Orb. To tell her that she, and she alone, unencumbered by words, was best suited to give voice to the rarified heights humanity can aspire to—the unambiguous harmonic vibrations, the evocative chords of pure emotion—quite simply through the music of her violin.

A part of me said the idea was without merit, was misleading, when, drowning out all we can accomplish individually and collectively as a species, we were now forced to listen to the strident sound of one of our own, at his worst moment, bringing to fore
our
worst moments.

And then I realized how almost all of us live most of our lives between these extremes.

As we hurried back, I privately told Kelly this, all of it, for I was learning to place my trust in her; and she implored me to share my idea with Paul and Diana; and I did so, ignoring misgivings about the timing, for Kelly convinced me there may be no better.

And the idea was well received, if for no other reason as a brief welcome distraction, and possibly more, as Diana proclaimed that Kelly would soon play on a high promontory.

High enough for, quite literally, a whole world to hear … or feel.

I GATHERED ANGIE up in my arms as I approached the edge of Red Square. Up ahead was Thompson, waiting for us, as promised.

“What the hell,” Paul said, addressing the mission leader.

“Yeah, what the bloody hell,” Thompson acknowledged.

“I’m going to punch that son-of-a bitch’s lights out,” Diana declared, balling her hand into a fist, then waiting to be chastised. Thompson did just the opposite.

“Diana, when the opportunity presents, I’m going to let you.”

That remark, together with Thompson’s assured manner, helped to break the palpable tension—tension made worse by our lack of information.

There was something else Thompson did, despite all his concerns, that I was particularly appreciative of and that deserves mentioning. He had found the time to purloin a cord from the tenting covering his geology equipment and used it to devise a serviceable leash and slip collar.

“Something for Angie,” he said, handing it to me, “to keep her out of trouble.”

Placing one looped end onto Angie’s neck and securing the leash around my wrist was all I needed to do. Thanking him, I paraphrased his words from a week ago.

“As you’ve said, nothing gets by you.”

“Not exactly prescient,” he replied, regarding
Desio
in the distance. “Something apparently did.”

That statement, more of a challenge to himself, was just like Thompson. He was shouldering the blame for this mess, just as he would view the problem as an affront to his leadership and face it head on. And he had his work cut out, being two pawns down to someone the world had designated a genius. But Thompson was not the type to be overawed by Melhaus’s intellect. Nor anyone else’s for that matter. Brilliant in his own right, he had the attributes of the rare good leader, including quiet self-assurance. In large measure his confidence was infectious. We followed him to a cluster of rocks where we could sit down and safely discuss the worrisome development.

“Melhaus used the opportunity of my absence to his best advantage,” Thompson began. “I was collecting a core sample among the spires—gone ten minutes, tops—when I heard the echoes of an unmistakable sound. Returning quickly, my fears were confirmed. He was at the ready, standing in front of
Desio
with some type of controller in hand, loudly shouting that if I approached much closer it would be at my own peril. Half-seriously, I yelled back “just how close is that Doctor Melhaus?” He responded by redirecting my attention to
your
lab station Diana, which you necessarily had set up nearer to the ocean and the ship.”

Even at our present distance, about two hundred meters, the damage to what had been her science equipment was visible: Metal, glass, and plastics fused into tortured, twisted, and blackened shapes. I watched Diana’s eyes harden, her body stiffen. She said absolutely nothing, which was far more disconcerting than if she vocalized her anger. Paul, who was sitting beside her, placed one hand over hers.

“I’m sorry, Diana,” said Thompson, realizing any words, even those of comfort, entailed a degree of risk. “I trust a good deal of your research has already been stored?”

“And
where
is it stored?” she said bitterly. The answer, of course, was
Desio
, where Doctor Melhaus held sway over the invaluable data from lab tests, experiments, and samples that had been meticulously archived for future study.

“At this point,” Thompson responded, “let’s not presume he’ll go into the AI system files and start selectively deleting. There isn’t reason.”

“Reason?
Reason?!
” Diana sniggered, refusing to accept any association between the word and Melhaus’s actions.

“Despite his deranged state of mind, he is planning well ahead. Judge for yourself.” Thompson reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a device the size of a pack of cards, only half as thin. “Kyle’s not the only one that carries a voice recorder. Returning from the spires, I recalled that I had in my possession the one I routinely use for making field observations. Shortly after I reached Red Square I activated it without Larry noticing. Here’s our exchange, brief as it is, commencing immediately after I visually assessed the damage done to the biology station.”

Thompson studied our reactions as the recorded encounter with Melhaus played out:

“I’m a bit surprised, Larry, that you of all people would show so little respect for another scientist’s research.”

“I have paid the same respect as was shown to me and mine.”

“And if I choose to ignore your advice and decide to approach?”

“If you feel so inclined. I doubt, however, you’re able to deflect three point two megawatts of laser.”

“Larry, we both know the laser wasn’t designed to…”

“Haven’t I made it obvious? Adjusting the laser to auto-activate on human heat and motion signature was child’s play. The manual override is in my hand. I accomplished this literally right under Kyle’s nose, only he was too stupid to realize.”

“When did you attempt this?”

“Attempt?! Underestimating me still, I see. Three days ago. When I modified the spectroscopy equipment. When it became clear that all my recommendations were going to be ignored. After I saw you and the others were determined to blame what happened to
Ixodes
on me.”

Several seconds of silence elapsed before the resumption of Thompson’s recorded voice:

“Whatever mischief you’re contemplating, Larry, proceeding is a grave mistake. No matter how far you may be planning ahead, there are bound to be unforeseen outcomes and repercussions. Inevitably, some you won’t like.”

“To employ your vernacular,”
Melhaus answered back,
“you can cut the bullshit. Now call back the others from their playtime so I can make my intentions plain. I don’t care to waste time repeating myself.”

Thompson turned off the recorder and slipped it back in his pocket. He turned to Kelly. “That’s all there is. Melhaus hasn’t exited
Desio
since.”

“Belying his aberrant actions, he sounded pretty cogent,” she said. “I wish I had been better able to diagnose his illness. To predict his behavior.”

“You and Kyle did well enough,” Thompson said, reacting to Kelly’s reluctance to volunteer more. “And things will get pretty quiet around here if I solicit advice only from those of us who’ve been infallible.”

“The problem is I don’t have much more to offer,” Kelly said, appearing frustrated. “What I detected from the recording is that he harbors a deep resentment toward us and he remains in possession of all his mental faculties. There is a small chance he can still be reasoned with. That’s not very helpful, I’m afraid.”

Minus the part about not being helpful, I agreed with Kelly and said so. Furthermore, but I kept this particular feeling to myself, I was encouraged by what I
didn’t
hear from the recording: No hint whatsoever of Thompson being rattled. The opposite was true, evidenced not only by what he said to Melhaus, but that he had the presence of mind to switch on the recorder in the first place.

There was one more item to consider. The details behind the personal insult Doctor Melhaus levied at me. Not waiting for the inevitable inquiry, I tendered what I could recall.

“I was in my cabin, writing, when Melhaus was reconfiguring the spectroscope equipment. He must have used the opportunity to tamper with the laser. Once or twice I noticed the lights flicker. At the time, I figured that was normal.”

“Anything else?” Thompson asked.

There was. “Won’t make you feel any better,” I said.

“Let’s hear it anyway.”

“When I left my cabin I ran into him as he came down from the command and control compartment. He had an uneasy look about him. I attributed it to his usual impatience with my casual manner, nothing more. I really didn’t think much about it—it was three days ago, before our concerns about him intensified. Perhaps, in retrospect, I should have put two and two together.”

“Leave the math to us scientists,” Thompson remarked. “And don’t kick yourself about it.”

“No, rather let me do it,” Diana said.

“So apparently Melhaus has the ability to follow through with his threats,” Paul said. Nevertheless, he sought confirmation from Thompson, in his role as the ship’s engineer.

“The laser was strategically mounted on a turret and designed to rotate three hundred sixty degrees, so all possible approaches are covered. If he’s done as he’s claimed—reprogrammed acquisition and firing parameters—our body heat, or motion, or a combination of both will instantaneously signal the weapon to fire. Once fired, unless he’s altered this parameter, too, a five-centimeter diameter laser beam will remain activated for several seconds. Whatever or whomever is unlucky enough to be in the laser’s path will find itself either sporting a significant hole or be sliced through and through. In five seconds the weapon can burn a cavity ten centimeters deep into the toughest metal alloys. In short, he has the ability to keep us at bay.”

“Indefinitely?” Paul asked.

“Long enough,” Thompson responded, although I detected in his voice, or imagined, the slightest trace of hesitation. Whatever I heard, it was insufficient for me to pursue.

“You haven’t explained how he was able to stand outside mouthing off,” Diana said.

“That small, handheld device he was holding. I’m not sure how it works, but if I had to guess, it is programmed with a second, overriding set of acquisition parameters. Almost everything he’s done is straightforward reprogramming, all well within his capabilities.”

“Why doesn’t he avoid us altogether?” Kelly asked. “He’s capable of solo-piloting to another island.”

“Four possible reasons,” Thompson said. “The nearby islands have less viable landing sites; why leave a location where the Orb have acknowledged our presence; he has some need of our assistance; and, lastly, this…”

Thompson unfastened the flap of a security pouch on his belt. Reaching in, he took out and held up for our inspection an object roughly the size and shape of a walnut.

“Without this reactor shunt, he’s going nowhere. I’m not sure he’s aware of that just yet.”

“Oh, I
so
hope he isn’t,” Diana said with great pleasure, “’cause I’d sure like to be around when he finds out. But when did you…?”

“Two days ago,” Thompson replied, “when I incorrectly believed I was ahead of the curve in regard to his mental state. I also entered numerous programming codes to alert me in the event unauthorized alterations were made to any of
Desio’s
operating systems—including the laser. Unfortunately, at some point in advance of my actions, Melhaus wrote and installed ghost programs preventing me from detecting that all I was doing was wasting my time. His programming skills are more sophisticated than mine.”

“His programming skills are par excellence,” Paul commented.

“But he’s not as well-versed in engineering,” Thompson added, returning the shunt to his belt pouch.

“So, two possibilities lie ahead,” I ventured. The two I assumed all along: We all leave this planet together or we leave it not at all.”

If Thompson agreed with my simplified assessment of our situation, I couldn’t tell. Again, I had a vague feeling he was holding something back. Diana, however, did not hold back.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?” she blurted out. “Eat rocks?”

“We first need to hear what Larry has to say,” Kelly said. “Isn’t he waiting for us?”

“Let him wait,” Thompson said. “If we jump when he tells us, he’ll presume to tell us how high.”