Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

“Because you’re desperate, and you need my help?”

“No, although both those things are true. It’s possible, maybe even likely, that I’m going to lose everything in the coming weeks. But if I go down, I’d rather not go alone.”

“You want to drag me down with you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” I said. “But you’re not alone. You have Aiyana.”

“Yes, and that’s a comfort. But it’s not enough.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” I told him.

He nodded. “Do that, Bartolomeo.” He paused. “Now, let’s talk about who we want on the team.”

Istepped into the dark, silent transport hold and came to a halt, searching through the shadows. When I saw the bulky forms of the shuttles, my chest tightened, cutting off my breath. Almost a year, but the memory of that day was still vivid, and carried with it everything that had happened since—five masked and armored men coming for me with electronic shackles; the days of waiting for a trial that never occurred, then the months of isolation and deathly tedium; the fear that I would go out of my mind; my release, and the end of a lifelong friendship with Nikos; the awe and wonder of an alien starship; and finally this: preparing to lead an exploration of that ship with all of its dangers and wonderful possibilities.

My life would have been so different if the insurrection had been successful. Everything about it would have been different. I would not be here, I reminded myself; I would be on Antioch. I might be dead by now, killed by some strange and deadly organism or toxin, or an accident caused by unforeseeable dangers. Or I might be sitting on the bank of a river, watching the water flowing past filled with alien aquatic life, basking in the heat of the sun.

I turned and looked at the hold doors, which were now closed and lifeless. I would never forget the sight of the harvesters rising into view, that silent and terrible nuclear fire slowly swirling, hypnotizing me. My world coming to an end. Or so it seemed at the time. It was only changing, but I hadn’t understood that.

Across the hold, the shuttles were nearly lost in the darkness, camouflaged by shadow. The tiny firefly lights far above me provided just enough light to illuminate the floor. I walked toward the largest of the shuttles, my footsteps echoing dully.

I had asked for complete authority over the expedition, and was granted most of it. First, I’d decided the trips in the maintenance module were inefficient. Instead, I would take eleven other people on one of the shuttles, with enough supplies and support for several weeks, and we’d park the shuttle right beside the alien starship. With twelve people, we could form three teams of four, or four of three, depending on which seemed more effective. We would stay there and make regular trips, sharing information and insights, intuitions and assessments. We’d learn how to work together, we’d acquire a feel for the ship, and the exploration would be our only focus.

That’s what I hoped for. I didn’t really know if it would work that way, but it made more sense to me than the haphazard, directionless excursions that had been undertaken in the weeks since the alien ship had been discovered.

I stopped in front of the shuttle, tried to look into its darkened interior, but I couldn’t see a thing. Twelve of us, plus the pilots and a med-tech. It was a good team, for the most part. A couple of people I was apprehensive about: Eric Casterman, the bishop’s man; and Aiyana, which showed how much Nikos trusted me—as much as I trusted him, apparently. But there were also good, experienced people like Sherry Winton, Trace Youngman, and Leona Frip, who had all spent a lot of time in the alien ship. William Rogers and a man called Starlin, neither of whom had spent time on the ship, but who were by all accounts both competent and diligent. Rita Hollings, who Costino said was the best “fixer” on the Argonos —she could repair or jury-rig almost anything. Also part of the team were Maria Vegas, Toller’s apprentice, and Margita Cardenas—Cardenas was my biggest surprise, and the best. And finally, Pär. I had to fight for him, but I won.

I put my hand against the shuttle hull. It was cold and hard, but not as cold as it would be out there in deep space. In a few hours the preparations would begin—not just provisioning the shuttle, but modifying it. One of the cargo bays would be converted to a combination air lock/ decontamination chamber. Sleeping cots and food preparation equipment would be installed. We would need a large monitor to follow the teams, and a wide variety of equipment and tools, testing and measurement instruments. The list went on. Four days. Maybe five.

“Hey.”

The voice startled me. I couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t hear anything. Then Francis stepped silently out of the shadows.

I hardly recognized him. He had grown, and was taller and lankier now. His hair was long and ragged.

“Hello, Francis.”

“Hm,” was all he said at first. He twisted his head and neck and I heard a soft cracking sound. “I want to go with you,” he said.

“Go with me? Where?”

“To the alien starship.”

I almost laughed, but I realized he was serious. “The team’s already been selected.”

“Change it,” he said. “Or just add me. I want to see it. Take me with you.”

“I can’t, Francis. Besides, you’re too young.”

“I am not. I’m older than you think. I’m older than I am.”

I suspected there was a lot of truth to that statement. But I couldn’t do what he wanted.

“I’m sorry, Francis.”

“I thought you were different,” he said. “You’re all the same.”

“Francis…”

He turned and, just as quickly and silently as he had appeared, retreated into the shadows behind the shuttle.

I felt bad, as if I had made some mistake, or misunderstood something. I almost called after him, but held back. There was something about Francis that moved me, and I wished I knew how to make things better between us. But I felt stupid, and had no idea what to do.

Footsteps broke into my thoughts. I turned, and saw Father Veronica standing just inside the hold, scanning the darkness.

“Bartolomeo?”

“I’m here.”

“Where? I can’t see you.”

I stepped away from the shuttle. She saw me and started across the metal floor, her steps loud and echoing.

“Pär told me you would probably be here.” She smiled, and seemed genuinely pleased to see me. “So it’s true, you’ve been released.” Her smiled faded. “I’m sorry I never could visit again. You asked me to let it go, but of course I couldn’t. For a while I tried to convince Bishop Soldano or the captain that you should be allowed visitors, but it was futile. I finally stopped trying after two or three months. But I thought of you often.”

“Did you pray for me?”

“Not the way you might think.” I thought she was going to explain, but she didn’t.

“I tried to see you as soon as I was released,” I told her.

“Yes, Father George told me.”

“He said you were gone, and that no one knew where you were.”

She nodded. I waited for an explanation, but it soon became obvious she was not going to give me one.

“He seems to think the alien ship has been delivered to us by Satan,” I added.

I expected her to laugh, or at least smile, but instead she sighed. “There’s something about that ship, Bartolomeo, something…”

“Evil?” I suggested.

“Not exactly. Malign, perhaps.”

“I’m not sure I understand the difference.”

“Perhaps malign is the wrong word. ‘Dangerous’ might be better. Lethal. But without intent. I don’t know, I can’t explain what it is I feel, but it’s something substantial.” She glanced at the shuttle. “Is this the one you’ll be taking?”