Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

Toller and Maria Vegas began their search through the Church archives. No one else was allowed access to the archives, and they promised to immediately report any discoveries of interest. As the days passed, we heard nothing from them.

Life on the Argonos returned to normal routine. There was nothing for me to do. All further exploration of the alien starship, though it could now be undertaken much more easily, was suspended until the actual docking took place.

I checked on the old woman, but she was still in shock, unable to speak. Leona’s condition, too, remained unchanged. Pär was occupied with a new coffee harvest. Nikos had gone on retreat to one of the nature rooms with Aiyana. I avoided Father Veronica.

Violating ship orders, I suited up and made the short trip across to the alien ship. I worked my away along the hull to the air lock entrance I had gone through so many times, and which hadn’t been used since I’d taken the bishop there. After I turned the handle and the hatch slid open, I moved across the entrance but did not go in. I drifted just outside, contemplating the dark interior.

It seemed like a different place already, as if we had already turned it over to the scientific teams of some advanced society in a star system we might never discover, or might never reach. As if we had abandoned it.

I still felt a twinge of fear as I looked into the darkness; an air of mystery, too, still emanated from it, vaguely threatening—I thought I could feel a subtle yet persistent force tugging at me, pulling me inside. I nearly succumbed.

Were there other people alive in there, waiting for rescue? Unlikely, I thought, but it was possible. Yet I did not dare propose further exploration, another “rescue mission.” I couldn’t risk opinion turning against me; we could not leave this ship behind.

FORdays I stayed away from the cathedral. I felt embarrassed and guilty. At the same time, I was afraid of losing the friendship Father Veronica and I did have, and the longer I avoided her, the more likely it seemed that would happen.

On Sunday I went to early Mass, but there was no sign of her. The bishop said Mass, with Father George assisting; Father Archibald gave the sermon, but I didn’t register a word of it. At the midday Mass, it was the same. This time I waited for everyone to leave, hoping to speak to Father George alone.

It was the bishop who remained. When everyone else had gone, he walked down the center aisle and sat two pews in front of me, body twisted around so he could face me as we talked.

“She’s not here, Bartolomeo. She won’t be for some time.”

She had disappeared after all.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“No,” I said.

He nodded. “You know, then.”

I shrugged.

“She’s a complex woman,” the bishop said. “A complex priest, for that matter. Sometimes she thinks too much.”

“Better than not thinking enough,” I said.

He smiled at that. “You’re arrogant, Bartolomeo.”

“And you’re not?”

“Oh, I am. Very arrogant. I readily admit it. I try to account for it. I don’t think you do.”

I got up to leave.

“Don’t go yet, Bartolomeo.”

“Why not? We have nothing to talk about.”

“Of course we do. Father Veronica.”

I shook my head. “I have nothing to say to you about her.”

The bishop chuckled. “So sensitive, Bartolomeo. One would almost think…” He let his voice trail off, as if expecting me to respond. I didn’t.

“She will make a great bishop when the time comes,” he said. “A better one than I.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, as you pointed out some days ago, I do not believe in God. She does.”

“If you don’t believe, why are you so opposed to bringing the alien ship with us?”

“Because I do believe in Evil, which is what that ship is.” He paused. “We did not discover that ship by accident.”

“I know that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Nikos told you?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t matter. Especially now. We have been led into this trap, and we’re staying in it. We’ve had warnings, opportunities to escape, but now we’re about to spring it shut on ourselves.”

I shook my head, exasperated. “There is no trap , Bishop. There is only fear of the unknown, and paranoia.”

He shrugged in resignation. “Nothing to be done, then.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be bishop?”

“Veronica? She’ll have no choice.” He smiled again. “But that’s a long time away.” He stood. “All right, Bartolomeo. Go. You’re probably right, we have nothing to talk about. More in common than you realize, but it means nothing.” He waved a hand at me in dismissal. “On your way.”

PÄRand I watched the docking from the back of the amphitheater; most of the five hundred seats were occupied, and another two hundred people stood in the aisles or off to the side. Thirty or forty teens congregated in small groups, and some of the adults had brought their young children with them to watch.

The main screen showed the view from a camera on one of the maintenance modules which had gone out several hundred meters from the two ships, providing the best overall view of the entire procedure. In the corners were smaller screens showing video images from other cameras, all of them closer, including one set right next to the docking mechanism on the Argonos so that we could watch the alien ship coming slowly but inexorably toward us—I was glad that picture wasn’t on the main screen.

“I sense an anticlimax approaching,” said Pär.

I nodded. “Why is that?”

“It’s not real. It might as well be a story film. We know it’s real, but that’s intellectual. It feels staged. For most of these people, nothing outside this ship is real.”

All of the images stopped moving; only an occasional flicker of light gave evidence that the transmission hadn’t frozen. The two ships maintained their distance, the docking mechanisms fewer than ten meters apart.

Guide cylinders emerged from the Argonos and telescoped toward the alien ship. Just before contact, they were positioned to enter corresponding shafts. The Argonos began to slowly move again.

We felt the brief, muted jolt. A caption flashed on the screen: DOCKING COMPLETE. Someone applauded, and another dozen or so joined in halfheartedly.

“What did I tell you?” Pär said. “These people have no idea what this means to them.” He turned to me. “They have no idea it means the end of their way of life.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we find human civilization again and take this alien ship there, the mission of the Argonos will be finished. No, not finished… that implies completion. This mission, whatever the hell it is, or was supposed to be, will end . We won’t continue on afterward. We’ll all leave this ship, and never set foot in it again.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but Pär was right. I reflected on it as we watched the people drifting out of the amphitheater. The screens went dead. Someone, probably one of the teenagers, threw something at the main screen; red and brown splattered across the gray surface.

“It will be good for us,” I said.

“I doubt the bishop would agree,” Pär replied.

I nodded. If the bishop had considered these implications, it would help explain his opposition.

“None of this will matter, though, if we can’t figure out where to go,” I said. “I’m going to see Toller.”

TOLLERhadn’t been this happy in years.

I was not allowed into the archives. Instead, a cleric asked me to wait in an anteroom while she went to get Toller. The room was small, furnished only with two chairs; the walls were bare. I had the feeling it was rarely used.