Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

Everything was quiet, peaceful, no signs of violence, no signs of madness. There was a palpable sense of relief, although no one expressed it aloud. We buried his remains beside the dwelling, and returned to the flyer.

AFTERthe sun went down and we’d eaten, we got the linkup with the Executive Council. They had finally made their decision.

“Something undeniably strange has happened here,” Nikos said, speaking over the linkup as if he were making a speech. “But it is far in the past. In the end, it has no relevance to us or our mission. There is nothing for us here, so it is time that we leave.” A politician’s speech, with little more substantive content than the transmission that had brought us here.

We were ordered to cancel our trip to the final site and start back for the shuttle at first light the next day; then we would take off the day after that to rejoin the Argonos . The ship would remain in orbit for several more days to allow the harvesters to maximize our stores, and then we would set course for some other godforsaken star, some other godforsaken world.

Father Veronica started to protest, but the bishop immediately cut her off, stating that this was the Church’s considered position as well, and that there would be no further discussion. I could see she was angry, but she said no more.

When the conversation ended and the linkup was shut down, Father Veronica and I took a walk along the lake. The evening air was cold, and I could smell moisture slowly rising from the black, still water. There was no moon, but the stars provided plenty of light.

Father Veronica gazed out ahead of us, but I had the feeling she wasn’t really looking at anything. I remained silent, waiting for her.

We had been walking for ten or fifteen minutes when she stopped, turned to me, and angrily said, “I can’t believe we are being ordered back to the Argonos. We owe these people more.”

“What do you mean?”

“We should stay and make a real effort to learn what happened to them. Something terrible occurred here. There are more dead on this planet, in places we haven’t seen yet—I am almost certain of that. To just leave it all behind, as if these people never existed… we owe them more than that. We owe them more than just a partial burial.”

“It will never happen,” I said. “You heard them tonight, the way they said it. They don’t want to stay any longer than they have to.”

“Why? Are we in a hurry to get somewhere? There’s nothing out there that can’t wait a few weeks, or even months. We’ve been wandering aimlessly for all these years… here we have encountered something real . We should be staying , not leaving.”

“Probably all this scares them. It scares me. They don’t want to know what happened. And with no one left alive here, they’ll resist any arguments, any protests.”

She sighed heavily. “Oh, I know that,” she said. “But what about those people on the ship who would want to stay here? Those who would like to make their own settlements, start new lives, perhaps be willing to make the time and effort to give the dead the respect they deserve and try to learn what happened.”

“Maybe everyone would be too frightened. Maybe no one would want to stay.”

“Don’t be disingenuous, Bartolomeo. We both know there are many people on the Argonos who would give anything to be able to do just that.”

I wondered again what she was telling me. Was she saying she knew about the insurrection? I couldn’t tell.

“They can make that request to the Executive Council or Planning Committee if they really want to,” I said. “Anyone can.”

She shook her head at me. “Everyone knows how that vote would go. The downsiders get no vote themselves. The Argonos is run by an oligarchy, and the request would be denied. You know that, Bartolomeo. It is an unjust system, and you know that, too.” Her voice grew sad. “Anyone who wants to stay here should be allowed to do so. If God can grant human beings free will, the ability and the freedom and responsibility to make their own decisions with their lives, the least that those in authority on this ship can do is grant the same thing for their fellow humans.”

I had my own skeptic’s thoughts about God and free will, but that was a discussion for another time. The idea of human beings in power acting out of anything except self-interest, however, was absurd to me. “Are you being naive?” I asked her.

“No, Bartolomeo. I know what the reality is. I am only expressing my belief in what should be, my belief in what is right. I know the difference, and it saddens me.”

With that, she resumed walking again, and I continued with her. We did not talk, but my thoughts were running madly, and I realized I had begun to rethink my feelings about the mutiny. Father Veronica’s words resonated with me, and I couldn’t shake the growing feeling that she was right. Not for the first time, I thought to myself that in so many ways she was remarkable.

WHENwe arrived at our original landing site the next day, I stepped out of the flyer, looking for Sari Mandapat. She was standing no more than twenty meters away, staring at me. It was only at that moment that I realized my decision had finally, firmly, been made. I nodded at her, twice to make sure she understood. She did, for she nodded sharply at me in return, and walked back to the shuttle.

Tomorrow, I thought to myself, tomorrow it begins.

BACKon board the Argonos , there was a strained atmosphere, unresolved conflicts that had only festered during the landfall. The captain seemed to be avoiding me, but I had no objections to that; it made it easier for me to help with the mutiny.

We had so little time to prepare. The harvesters would continue processing for three more days, then the ship would break orbit and leave. Fortunately, Pär and his colleagues had been working nonstop while Sari Mandapat and I were down on Antioch, planning the coordination of more than a thousand people, making lists and schedules and calculations. They had done everything that could be done without me.

My own role was to provide access codes and passwords, to open doors and holds and chambers, to activate the machinery and equipment we would need, to deactivate the alarms. They had planned incredibly well, far more thoroughly and creatively than I would ever have imagined.

I began to believe it might actually work.

BYthe second day back I was exhausted, but none of us had much time for sleep. Minor missteps and problems arose with alarming regularity, but Pär and Alice Springs and Arturo Morales were unconcerned each time; they had planned for them, and expected them, and their calm helped to ease my own anxieties.

I suggested revealing our plans to Father Veronica, trying to convince them that not only would she be sympathetic to our cause, she might want to join us. I was emphatically voted down. For them, the Church was part of the upper levels, and that meant Father Veronica as well. I pointed out that I, too, was from the upper levels, but to no avail; I realized for the first time that, with the exception of Pär, they, too, despised me, and had only included me because they had no other choice. I considered withdrawing, even betraying them. Instead, I continued working.

Itried to find Francis. I wanted him to come with us to Antioch, have a chance to start a new life; it would be better, I thought, than what he had on the ship.

I started in the chamber of abandoned machines. It was empty and quiet, and as I walked through the room, playing the light of my hand torch across the metal all around me, I called out his name, over and over. There was no response; there were no sounds at all except the now familiar ticking noise coming from somewhere in the distance.