Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

She hesitated a long time. “I’ll talk to them, Bartolomeo.”

“Thank you, Veronica.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” She stood. “Let me know when you want me to talk to them. But until then, I need to be alone.”

Now I knew it was time to leave. I rose to my feet and did.

Iwent to Nikos. Time for further reconciliation. I was going to need all the support I could muster from now on, and he represented my best opportunity. And I hoped there was still something salvageable between us, a remnant of friendship, mutual respect. Something.

I found him in the command salon, the canopy retracted, the stars and the eternal night sky engulfing him. He was relaxed and at ease in the command chair, more so than I had seen in months, if not years; he appeared rested, no longer haunted.

“What is it?” I asked. “What’s happened to the strain and tension? You look almost…”

“Peaceful?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and sighed. “I don’t feel like the captain anymore, Bartolomeo. Surprisingly, that’s a good thing.” He smiled gently. “It’s as if no one is in charge, and who would want to be? Circumstances are in charge. I wonder now why I was so caught up in it, in holding on to this position. If people wanted me out, I should have let them depose me.” He shrugged, the smile fading. “But I didn’t know anything else. It was my life. It was all I had.” He paused for a few moments, then said, “I don’t need it anymore.”

We were both silent for a time. I tried to find the tiny occlusion that marked the alien ship, but couldn’t locate it.

“Then what do you think of my plan?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s a good plan, Bartolomeo. Alien ship or not, it would be beneficial for the Argonos to contact civilization once again, good for all of us. We’ve been out here far too long.” He looked at me and frowned. “But I’m not hopeful of finding any records that will show us the way.”

“Be hopeful,” I said. “They exist.”

“How can you be so sure?”

I grinned and told him what Father Veronica had revealed to me.

“So the bishop was holding out on us,” Nikos said when I had finished. “I’m surprised she told you about it. I would have thought that it was some kind of Church secret.” He fingered the chair controls and the canopy began closing over us; the salon grew darker until the canopy was completely sealed and the only illumination came from glowing colored lights on the command chair. I could barely tell that he was looking at me. “I assume you have something in mind,” he said.

“Call an Executive Council session.”

“And?”

“Father Veronica and I will be there, and she’ll repeat what she told me. We demand that the bishop grant us access to the church records.”

“And if he refuses? The Church has a certain degree of autonomy on this ship. He could legally refuse, and we could not force his hand.”

“He won’t refuse. Right now, that would be politically disastrous for him. He’d lose most of the support he has on the Planning Committee, even the Executive Council.”

Nikos pulled slowly at his beard, an old habit I had once found reassuring.

“I believe you’re right. That’s what we’ll do.” He sighed heavily. “We could have been a formidable combination, Bartolomeo. We were at one time.”

“We can still work together, Nikos.”

“Yes, and we will. But it can never be the same as it once was, and that’s a sad thing.”

He was right, and I had no response.

WHENFather Veronica and I walked into the council session, the bishop leaned forward in his chair, face tight, and said, “What is this?”

“I asked them both here,” Nikos replied. “They have information that is useful to us.” He gestured at us to sit, and we did.

“What kind of information?”

“Patience, Bishop.” Nikos looked around the table. “We’re all here, yes? Then let’s start.” He turned to Cardenas. “Margita, do you have answers from your engineers yet?”

Before she could reply, the bishop interrupted. “If this concerns Bartolomeo’s demented proposal, we should be meeting with the full Planning Committee.”

Nikos waved a hand in dismissal. “No formal action will be taken here, Bishop. We won’t be voting on anything. We’re simply gathering information that will be presented to the full committee.” He tipped his head toward the bishop and his tone hardened. “Besides, Bishop, I think that before we’re through here, you will be glad it’s just the council.”

The silence was tight with tension, with the bishop’s struggle to maintain his composure. Nikos finally turned back to Cardenas and said, “Margita?”

She nodded once. “A simple answer, though not a simple task. Yes, we can do it. We can construct a docking mechanism, build one half onto the bow of the Argonos , the other centrally located on the hull of the alien starship—we put the ship right on our nose. Acceleration will be slower, but the drives can handle the extra mass. The docking mechanism will be somewhat simplified by the fact that we need no communication, no passage between the two ships, no cabling, no air locks. Everything on the exterior. It will take some time, but we can do it.”

“That’s what we wanted to hear,” Nikos said. “No, let me correct that. That’s what we expected to hear. I have more faith in the ship’s crew than in almost anything else. Thank you, Margita.” He glanced down at the table as if reminding himself of something, then looked up at Father Veronica. “Now, for the second thing we need. Father Veronica. Tell us about… the Church’s historical records.”

“NO!” Bishop Soldano rose to his feet, slamming his hands on the table.

“Let her speak,” Nikos said.

“Don’t do this, Veronica.”

Father Veronica appeared unhappy, yet determined. “It’s too late, Eminence.”

“It is a betrayal of the Church!”

“No. It is upholding the Church’s principles. God’s principles.”

The bishop sat down heavily and closed his eyes for a moment. “You are making a serious mistake, Veronica.”

“Perhaps, Eminence. But I make it with good conscience.”

The bishop had no response to this except to stare at me with that same malevolence he’d directed at me the day before; eventually he sank back, still shaking with rage. Father Veronica regarded him, then looked away.

“Father?” Nikos said quietly.

“Yes. Sorry.”

She then proceeded to describe the Church’s historical records to the Executive Council. She spoke at length, without interruption; as she spoke, the bishop sat rigid, his eyes hardly blinking.

When she was done, Father Veronica was obviously still conflicted. She slowly rose to her feet.

“I’m sure the bishop can answer any questions you may have. He is more familiar with the records than I am.” She hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry, but I must leave.”

“Certainly,” Nikos said. “Thank you for speaking with us.”

Father Veronica nodded once, then left. I wanted to follow her, and talk to her, but I couldn’t leave now. There was more to come in the session, and if Nikos had his way we would immediately convene the Planning Committee. I sat in silence at the foot of the table and waited.

Most of the council members were stunned, but Toller was excited. “I always suspected,” he said in an awed whisper. “Bernard, you’ve kept this from me all these years.”

The bishop glared at Toller. “In public, you call me Bishop or Eminence.”

Toller nodded, but could not keep the smile from his face. “My apologies, Bishop.” He breathed deeply once. “Those records must be wonderful. I can’t imagine what it will be like to see them, to start reading through them—”