Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

I turned to the security camera in the corner, nodded, and said, “We’re on our way.”

Taggart and I met the squad out in the corridor; I took the lead, Taggart the rear. I couldn’t help thinking that the squad wasn’t any larger than the one that had come to arrest me. We moved quickly along the corridor, doors opening before us and closing behind us—a moving secure-zone, the path cleared for us to the nearest ejection tube. I kept looking back, but the coffin didn’t change. Don’t wake up, I silently chanted to myself, don’t wake up …

At every door I called in the “clear” signal after looking back at the squad. The door would open, we’d move through, Taggart would call in his signal, the door would close. A half hour that seemed much longer.

Finally at the hull, I keyed open the ejection tube. The squad inserted the coffin, and I keyed the panel closed. Now was when a few more words were usually spoken, a private eulogy for the closest friends and relatives of the newly dead. No words this time. I didn’t hesitate.

I activated the chamber, and we felt the faintest tremor as the coffin was expelled. The viewing monitor came to life and we anxiously watched the gleaming silver vessel streak away from the Argonos , a tiny metal bullet hurled into the darkness of space.

The trajectory was away from both the Argonos and the alien vessel. I half expected some glowing energy beam to lance out from the other ship, capture the coffin, and draw it back into its interior. But nothing like that happened. The coffin continued to sail away from us unimpeded until, like every coffin ejected from the ship, it dwindled, dwindled, then finally disappeared altogether.

Icaught up with Nikos and Cardenas in the chaos of the med center crisis ward. All of those still living were being attended to, and the three of us went down a passage for some privacy and quiet.

Five crew members were dead now, and two others probably wouldn’t make it to the end of the day; the other four were stage five critical, and had a chance. The explosion, if that’s what it was, had ruptured suits and helmets and sent them all careening away from the ship; two of the dead had only recently been located.

“The old woman?” Nikos asked me.

“Gone.”

“At least that worked.”

“We’ve got to try something else to break free of that ship,” Cardenas said.

“Any ideas?”

She shrugged. “Send remotes to attach explosives. Damage to the Argonos is more than acceptable.” She paused. “My guess is that won’t work. Then maybe try firing explosives at the docking mechanism; that would cause us even more damage, but still acceptable. That may not work either. So then we set charges inside the Argonos . Blow off the forward sections of the ship.” She shook her head. “I don’t like that one bit, but we may have no choice. It should break us free, but it’ll cripple us somewhat, and by that time who knows what kind of response we’ll have provoked.” She paused. “We have no good options that I can see. But I am more than open to suggestions.”

“What about attacking their ship?” Nikos asked.

“I don’t know. Riskier to the Argonos as a whole, I’d think. A full-out battle with that ship? Not good odds for us, but it may come to that. Or they may attack us first, so there wouldn’t be much of a decision. My own opinion, attacking their ship would only be a last resort.”

“Bartolomeo?”

“I can’t argue with anything Margita’s said.”

Nikos was working through the options, and Cardenas was waiting for orders. I was reflecting on all the mistakes I’d made, and wondering if there was any way I could make up for them; in despair, I knew there wasn’t.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Nikos said, “we are in a state of war. I’m not going to the Executive Council for approval of any of my decisions. Will that be a problem with the crew?”

Cardenas shook her head. “Not at all, Captain. The ship is yours.”

He nodded. “The remotes first.”

Cardenas nodded in return. “Right away, sir.” She turned and left the room.

Nikos looked at me with concern. “We’re in deep trouble, Bartolomeo.”

Isearched desperately for Father Veronica. Queries went out to everyone I knew, to every place I could think of. No one had seen her for days. Then I finally thought to try the place I should have remembered earlier, a place where no queries would reach—the Wasteland.

The Wasteland was hot and dry, as always. Sand the color of rust, boulders and stones bleached by an apparitional sun, and the palest blue- and rose-tinted sky; scraggly trees, stunted purple cacti, dense low bushes of thorns; a horizon that stretched into the rising waves of heat.

I closed the hatch over the metal stairs of one of the ground entrances, then turned a complete circle, my gaze sweeping across the shimmering expanse. The sun was far along its downward arc on my right. I saw no movement, heard nothing but a faint hiss of sand as a faint breeze eddied past my feet.

“Father Veronica!” I called. No response. I turned and called again. “Father Veronica!” Then twice more with the same results.

I felt certain she was here. I picked out a cluster of rocks in the distance, flanked by spindly brush, and walked toward it.

The place was disconcertingly quiet, especially after all the chaos and noise of the previous hours. The heat seemed to bake all sound out of the air so that I barely heard my own footsteps in the coarse sand. Within minutes I was sweating and thirsty.

When I reached the cluster of rocks, there was no sign of Father Veronica. A pipe with a spigot emerged from the ground. I opened it and eventually cold water trickled forth. I drank deeply, splashed water across my face and neck, then closed the spigot. A six-legged lizard scuttled out from the shade and stopped at my feet. Its thin, forked tongue flicked out and lapped at the spilled moisture already drying in the heat, then it scuttled back out of sight.

The largest rock wasn’t more than two meters high, but it would offer a slightly better view. I climbed it and surveyed the surrounding desert. Far away were two groupings of rocks and cacti; a flash of white came from the larger grouping. I called out Father Veronica’s name again, but there was still no answer. I climbed down and headed for them.

It took me half an hour to reach the two groupings; they hadn’t seemed that far away. The larger consisted of several massive boulders interspersed with light purple spined cacti. Caught on the spines of a half-dead cactus was a scrap of white cloth; between two of the boulders was another water spigot, but nothing else.

“I’m here, Bartolomeo.”

Her voice came from the smaller cluster of rocks, which was only a few meters away. She rose to her feet from the shelter of a large boulder, brushing sand and dust from her cassock. She looked tired and drawn, thinner somehow, but also very beautiful. My heart ached as I realized we had not spoken even once since the excursion outside the ship to view the illuminated stained glass.

I walked over to her. She’d made a small camp nestled in among the rocks—sleeping mat, canteen, and a large satchel presumably filled with food packets and personal items.

“Looking for me?” she said with a tired smile.

I nodded. “How long have you been here?”

“Six days.”

“Things have changed. A lot has happened just in the last fifteen or twenty hours. You should know what’s going on with the alien ship.”

“I already know,” she replied. “Bishop Soldano has kept me informed.”

“He came out here?”

“No. I’ve got a private com unit with me. With all that’s been happening, it would have been irresponsible to just disappear. I told Bishop Soldano I needed to get away, and told him to contact me if it became necessary.” She shrugged. “I’m preparing to return in a couple of hours. I’ll be needed.”