Orb (27 page)

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Authors: Gary Tarulli

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BOOK: Orb
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“There’s something important that I think you should know first,” Diana said. “Paul! Why haven’t you told him? Go ahead, tell him.”

“Yes, of course,” Paul replied. “Simply put, we have come to the tentative conclusion that the entirety of the planet’s ocean comprises, in fact
is
, the Orb. Is the Orb, and gives rise to millions of Orbs.”

This statement, uttered with Paul’s usual understated delivery and modesty, was then hastily backed up with a summation of the available supporting evidence. Despite the grave situation we were in, I found enjoyment in watching Thompson’s face change from placid stoicism to bewilderment to comprehension, and, lastly, to an expression of shock, or at least as close to shock as I’d likely ever see in him. His eyes were drawn to what was the ocean and to the two or three dozen Orbs serenely floating thereon.

“Don’t let him try to fool you,” Diana proudly informed Thompson, “the revelation is exclusively Paul’s.”

“And this occurred where?” Thompson, collecting himself, inquired of Paul.

“At the cove.”

Where else, I thought, since it was plainly evident we had just returned from there. Then I realized why Thompson wanted confirmation of the location. The time we spent at the cove relaxing, or in contemplation, encouraged by him, was now justified a hundredfold.

“Beautiful work.” Thompson’ praise was meant for Paul; then, for Paul’s benefit as much as ours, he turned to Diana, Kelly, and me. “Well done, all of you.”

“Can we go rub Melhaus’s face in this?” Diana asked.

Thompson had other ideas. “For the immediate future, we’ll keep it from him.”

“Why?” Diana complained.

“An exact reason I can’t give you; only, any knowledge we possess and he doesn’t may assist us in some indeterminate way.”

As if on cue, Melhaus exited
Desio
, angrily shouting to us from across the Square.

“I don’t advise you keep me waiting any longer. Not if you want me to leave out dinner.”

“What the hell,” Diana, teeth clenched, muttered under her breath. “He’s treating us like monkeys in a zoo.”

“Don’t stand up,” Thompson cautioned. “We’ll wait a few seconds, then walk closer. Kyle, you and Diana keep a low profile. He harbors the most animus toward both of you, excluding myself and Kelly.” Thompson laughed. “Ah, screw it,” he said, realizing all but Paul were included. “Let’s do this.”

We approached the ship, keeping a prudent distance. Thompson positioned himself slightly ahead of us and attempted to grab the initiative.

“We’re all together, Larry, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I see the dog’s kept on leash,” he observed, ignoring Thompson. “Still no ill effects from the encounter?”

I chose not to answer, fearing I’d make a bad situation worse; Melhaus, however, acting as if I had responded, said, “Good, I will have use for her tomorrow.”

“And what would that be?” Thompson demanded.

“In good time, in good time. And Kelly, have you nothing cogent to say? Not peddling your pills today?”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” Kelly responded, “a laser stands between me and the drugs you need.”

“That is an impediment,” Melhaus affirmed, laughing. “Oh, yes, there is one other impediment I shall share with you. I destroyed a good deal of your pharmacopeia.”

“Not
all
, I trust?” Kelly said, suppressing alarm.

“‘Trust’ is an interesting word coming from any of you. No, not all, that would be foolish, would it not? Only the chemical compounds I could identify as psychotropics.”

“We’re wasting our time here,” Thompson said suddenly, turning his back on Melhaus to face us. My heart began to race in contemplation of how the physicist would react to the deliberate affront.

I didn’t have long to wait.

Faster than the eye could follow,
Desio’s
turret rotated and a streak of pure purple light instantly intersected with Thompson’s geology equipment. A blinding cascade of red and orange sparks erupted outward, followed by several rapid popping sounds as metal and glass components exploded and burned. Beneath a sagging equipment table, a molten patch of rock began to glow a deep red. An evil-smelling greenish and black smoke snaked into the sky. In the space of a few seconds, the purple light had vanished, as did a low hum coming from the ship’s interior, a noise noticeable only by its sudden cessation.

The destruction unnerved us, or three of us anyway, for I noted an incongruous flash of satisfaction appear on Thompson’s face. He had deliberately provoked Melhaus, in the process finding out the capabilities of the laser controller being held so conspicuously, and tightly, in the physicist’s hand.

“So, Larry,” Thompson said, “your little toy works as advertised.”

“Proven at the expense of your equipment,” Melhaus responded, irritated Thompson had obtained the information he wanted.

“A small price to pay.”

“The next price will be higher. You can’t afford it.”

“Harm any member of my crew,” Thompson said flatly, “chances are you’ll never leave the planet.”

“Is that what you’d call a bluff?” Melhaus said contemptuously.

“Harm any one of us,” Thompson reiterated, “and that includes Angie, and you’ll find out. I’ve warned you before, doctor. You’d do well to heed the law of unforeseen consequences. Do not presume you can anticipate with absolute certainty the outcome of your actions.”

“Empty talk,” Melhaus said dismissively.

“No, Larry,” Thompson said; and in a voice so low and so strikingly
sad
that only a fool—or worse, someone separated from the better part of human emotion—would have completely misread his sincerity.

But Melhaus was unmoved, and judging him so, Thompson removed the reactor shunt from his belt, centered it in the flattened palm of his hand, and held it up for all to see.

“The reactor shunt. Larry, without it,
Desio
goes nowhere.”

The effect of the pronouncement, a disturbingly shrill and forced laugh, was less than Thompson hoped for.

“Ha! You still believe the future rotates around you or me?!” Melhaus said, wildly gesturing toward the distant Orb. “The future is discovering what
they
are! I don’t have much to lose anymore, do I? Not with what you’ve done to my reputation. So tomorrow I shall endeavor to salvage everything. I shall conduct certain experiments that may require assistance.” The physicist laughed once more, an ugly laugh shaped by anger and resignation. “Unable to leave the planet, you say? Well, if you fail me,
we’ll
remain here, mark my words, until hell and the planet freeze over!”

Conversation terminated, Melhaus stepped up onto the ship’s landing. Paul, in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, shouted a warning after him. “Assist you?! Unlikely. Without the food you promised,
and
bedding, you’ll find us quite unfit.”

The physicist paused momentarily, and then disappeared from view. I looked at Thompson and, with an attempt at humor, said, “That went well.”

We followed Thompson back across Red Square to a secluded semicircle of boulders out of line of sight from the ship. Here he had spent a few nights watching the stars and sleeping; his own minicamp consisting of his bedroll, a small table, a solar-powered lamp, and a few personal effects.

“Make ourselves at home?” Diana inquired, critically evaluating what would be our accommodations for at least one evening, if not considerably longer.

“Sure,” Thompson replied, “and help yourself to a cold beer in the fridge.”

“Pretty soon we’ll be the cold ones in the fridge,” Paul said, picking up on the remark. “And it won’t be imaginary.”

Melhaus, it seemed, was in a position to take everything from us, everything, that is, save our warped sense of humor. He’d never manage that, but we were doing a good job of avoiding the inevitable: A serious discussion starting with somebody, probably Diana, asking, “What the hell do we do now?” Instead, she met and held Thompson’s eyes, giving her words a touching emphasis. “Now I’m the one to say sorry,” she began, fighting back stronger, rawer emotions she didn’t want to show. “About your research. Your equipment. Such an incredible waste.”

“Diana,” Thompson responded, “I have much of my research archived onboard
Desio
. I’m confident we’ll recover the bulk of
our
work. But, for me, you know the worst of it?” Thompson pointed to the enigmatic stone formations that had consumed much of his research time. “Unless I’m favored by one of Paul’s brilliant insights, I may be constrained to rely on whatever twisted logic Kyle uses to explain those spires.”

“Rest easy,” I said, “I don’t have a credible explanation. 
Yet.
Too many of these damn distractions.”

Overhearing our conversation, an independent observer (though such a being I believe can never exist) would think that our lives were not truly in peril or judge our banter as meaningless and out of place. And said observer would be wrong, for what passed for idle conversation gave us time to mentally regroup and to steady our nerves.

In a subtle way, it brought us closer together.

Consequently, Thompson let us ramble on, occasionally joining in. He also convinced Diana and Paul, over their polite objections, to sit on his bedding while he found a less comfortable place on one of the boulders ringing our little enclave.

Kelly and I chose to sit on the bare ground, counterbalancing each other by leaning back to back. When we were settled, Angie, still on leash for her own safety, crawled onto my lap. Her body was facing forward, but she twisted her neck and head around to give me a pathetic look (the one poodles seem to have a patent on) and I realized it was well past the hour she expected to be fed. When her stare went ignored for several seconds (not as easy as it sounds, for I was feeling derelict in my obligation) she began to whine softly, and I issued, and she obeyed, a “quiet” command. Soon enough, I thought, the rest of us would be hungry, too. Unlike Angie, however, we understood the reason why. Or did we, for how well did we truly appreciate the reasons leading up to the mental decline of our fellow crewmate? Not sufficiently well, that was quite apparent.

The lack of true understanding was disquieting. When faced with adversity, it is easier, in my estimation, to be pessimistic, even morose, as the sun sets and the gloomy quality of light portends the demise of yet another day. In the lengthening shadows, a part of each of us becomes more willing to believe a dire future is not only possible, but inevitable.

And yet, although futility and resignation stood prominently before us, we refused to embrace them. Collectively and individually, we were not the type to let the universe just happen to us.

This was especially true of Thompson. After the blue disc hid below the horizon, he said, and not in an offhanded way, “Tomorrow, the sun will come up.”

“I beg your pardon?” Diana said, as if she hadn’t heard.

“Tomorrow, the sun will rise; of that, we can be reasonably sure. And since we are made reasonably sure of one thing, we go about our days predisposed to seeking the same certainty, the same assurance, even when it does not exist, in all we see and do. The compulsiveness in which we go about this can best be found in love and in religion as well as in science. Perhaps we must admit the same proclivity in predicting rational behavior from our colleague, Doctor Melhaus. If this is true, and I believe it is, we can be forgiven—for our better nature hoped his would prevail.

“We must accept that the desire to find, through science, a definitive answer to the Orb has swallow him whole, excluding all else. We must take him at his word when he claims he’ll subjugate our lives to satisfy his need. Coming to terms with this decidedly unpleasant admission, we can approach the seriousness of our situation. Tomorrow he will demand more than we can in good conscience give. I anticipate he’ll want to attach instrumentation to Angie and use her to draw the Orb in closer. He may demand our help capturing an Orb. Or insist I reinstall the reactor shunt. None of these actions are acceptable to me. Understanding the possible consequences if we fail to comply, are any acceptable to you?”

A quiet descended that I was compelled to shatter.

“Yes, one,” I said, stopping Thompson cold. I felt Kelly tense behind me.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Thompson began, believing I had decided to offer up Angie. He was only partially correct.

“There’s a twist,” I said.

“Namely?”

“I’ll be holding her.”

The remark caught everyone, including Thompson, off-guard. “Say again?” he asked.

“I’ll be holding Angie in my arms. I raised an eyebrow at Thompson. “Hey, you asked for ideas on contacting the Orb. Well, there’s mine.”

Thompson consumed less time than I imagined pondering the idea.

“I’ll allow it,” he said.

The rapid answer, said with conviction, surprised me some. Kelly, on the other hand, not expecting my proposal, let alone the positive response to it, was startled.

“Bruce?!” was all she managed to exclaim. Paul and Diana were each about to join in with objections.

“Hold on,” Thompson said. “Do any of you truly believe the offer will sate Melhaus? It will not. So I will permit you to suggest it to him with one non-negotiable condition: He must first relinquish control of
Desio
.”

“But he doesn’t trust us,” I said. “He won’t expect us to follow through.”

“Nor do I trust him, the significant difference being he has threatened us. I will not misjudge him twice.”

“But if he agrees?” Kelly asked, standing in front of Thompson, still very much concerned. “I seem to remember you were the one trying to stop Kyle….”

“Since then, Kelly, there have been two significant developments. We all agreed that Angie’s contact left her completely unharmed. And, by Paul’s estimation, the five of us have, on several occasions, been enveloped in the Orb.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Paul objected. “And I didn’t intend the unproven to be used as justification for what Kyle is proposing.”

“No, you didn’t, but the idea is out there anyway. Do you foresee that great a risk?”

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