Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them she looked up toward the ceiling. “They came… they came. Then they rescued us… who were left, who were… took us onto their ship and…” She paused. “I… they… they saved us.”

“ Who rescued you, Sarah?”

She made a sound like a strangled laugh. “They did. Then… then something happened… happened to them and they died, leaving us all alone.”

“How many of you were there?” Dr. G. asked. “Are there others still alive on the ship?”

Sarah didn’t answer. She held up her hand and studied it, turning it slowly. “I was… young, then.” Her voice was soft, sad. “I’m old… old.” Then she turned back to Dr. G., reached out with the hand she’d been studying, and gently touched Dr. G.’s hand. “I want to die now.”

She lay back, closing her eyes once again. Dr. G. took Sarah’s hand in her own, then sat on the bed next to her.

“No,” she whispered. “You’re safe now, Sarah, you’re…”

“I want to die now,” Sarah repeated.

Taggart stopped the video. “That’s the last thing she said. She’s opened her eyes a couple of times, sat up once crying out, but not another word. Dr. G. has tried talking to her, but she hasn’t responded in a long time.” He shrugged. “Hopefully there’ll be more later.”

Nikos looked at me. “Your thoughts, Bartolomeo.”

“She was there. And it sounds like it happened a long time ago.”

“Yes, but what about other survivors? Do you think there are others still alive?”

“You saw the same thing I did, Nikos. She couldn’t answer. Or wouldn’t. If I had to guess, I’d say no. I’d say she was it.”

He nodded. “I have the same feeling.” He turned to Taggart. “I think we should keep this to ourselves for now, until she talks some more. Until we have something more definite. Okay?”

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

“Bartolomeo?”

“Absolutely.”

“Taggart, you’ll tell Dr. G.?”

Taggart nodded. “She’ll understand. She won’t want anyone bothering the old woman anyway.”

“The next time she talks, you inform only Bartolomeo or me, understand?”

“I understand.”

Nikos and I left the observation room together. As we walked along the corridor, he said to me, “What else do you think, Bartolomeo?”

“Nothing, really. I don’t see how it changes anything. Survivors or not, we can’t leave that ship behind.”

“Her story of being rescued might defuse the bishop’s ranting about a malevolent ship out to kill us.”

“But the probability of no survivors might also erode some of the more fragile support we have. I think it’s too risky. I think we should do just what we’re doing. Keep it quiet.”

Nikos nodded. “Agreed, then. We keep this to ourselves.”

THEface on my cabin’s video screen was familiar, but I couldn’t remember who she was. It was two o’clock in the morning, and I was still more than half asleep; pieces of a dream still floated through me—amorphous, phantom aliens drifting above me in a huge, spherical chamber while I hung onto a slippery metal ring for support; I was not wearing a pressure suit and I was holding my breath.

I rubbed at my eyes, switched on low light and the camera, and mumbled something incoherent even to me.

“I’m sorry about waking you,” the woman said.

“I know you,” I said, “but…”

“Catherine. Francis’s sister.”

It still took me a few moments, until I remembered talking to her in the ag room. I nodded. Then, realizing what time it was, I said, “Has something happened to him?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. He asked me to contact you if he wasn’t back in forty-eight hours. It’s been almost that long, and he’s not back.”

“Back from where?” I had a sick feeling I knew what she was going to say.

“The alien ship.”

I was completely awake now, though I still felt a buzzing through my limbs from being dragged out of deep sleep.

“You let him go?”

Catherine shook her head in disgust. “Come off it, Bartolomeo. You’ve met Francis. He decides to do something, who’s going to stop him?”

She had a point, and I admitted as much. “So it’s been two days since he went.”

“Nearly. I just can’t stop worrying about him. He’s pretty self-sufficient, but it’s been a long time.”

“Try not to worry too much,” I told her. “Forty-eight hours isn’t really that long. He doesn’t know the ship, and it would take a long time for him to make his way to the end of the explored areas, which is what I’d guess he would do. He’s probably just working his way back now.”

“How long are we supposed to wait?”

“I’m not going to wait,” I assured her. “I’ll suit up right now and get over there.”

“I want to go with you.”

I shook my head. “That would just slow me down. I know that damn ship inside and out. Or that part of it, anyway.”

“What if something’s happened to him? What if you need help?”

“Then I’ll call for help. But I’ll be able to get to him a lot faster on my own.”

“Okay. Call me as soon as you know anything. Promise me that.”

“I promise.”

She gave me her com code. Her concern for Francis surprised me; the last time I’d talked to her I didn’t get the impression they were very close. I was glad for Francis that she obviously did care so much for him.

“If anything’s happened to him…”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It doesn’t do any good.” It also wouldn’t do any good to tell her not to worry, but I had to say it.

“Is it true, what we’ve heard?”

“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“That we’ve actually docked with the alien ship, and that we’re taking it with us?”

“Yes, it’s true. Or mostly true. Nothing final has been decided yet.”

“You people in charge of this ship are all crazy, you know that?”

“Why?”

“You figure it out, Bartolomeo. You’re supposed to be so intelligent. But obviously you can’t.” She paused. “You’re risking the lives of thousands of people. And for what? The trophy of an alien ship.”

“It may be the greatest discovery mankind has ever made.”

“It may be the last discovery the Argonos ever makes.” She sighed heavily, resigned. “Just find my brother, Bartolomeo. Please.”

“I will.”

ANhour and a half later I was back at the air lock entrance to the alien starship. When the hatch slid open, I was not surprised to find the lamp on inside.

I pulled myself into the air lock and spoke over the open channel. “Francis? Are you in here? It’s Bartolomeo.”

No response. I didn’t even hear breathing, but he could have closed the channel.

I didn’t move for a long time, just hung there in the air lock, unwilling to close the hatch behind me so I could open the interior door and continue. I didn’t understand why, but I did not want to have to do this; I did not want to work my way through all those rooms and passages. Maybe I was simply afraid of finding Francis dead in one of them. But it seemed more than that. Something like Father Veronica’s nameless dread. All of my excitement and enthusiasm for exploring the alien ship was gone, replaced by disquiet and exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than to turn around, return to the Argonos , and go back to sleep.

But I couldn’t. I finally turned the handle and watched the hatch close, cutting off the stars.

I worked my way quickly through the explored areas, following Francis’s progress by the lights that were on in the rooms and corridors. Either he’d known the most direct route to the farthermost rooms, or he’d turned off the lights in the dead ends after he’d backtracked.