Richard Russo - Ship of Fools

The last missile, purely by accident I am certain, actually continued directly toward the bow of the Argonos, very near the docking mechanism.

“Detonate!” Nikos shouted over the command channel. “Detonate that warhead!”

Five seconds… No response.

“Detonate!”

Ten seconds.

“Nothing, sir.”

The missile struck the ship at a shallow angle, but without detonating; it caromed away and joined the others, tumbling into space where they all quickly disappeared from sight and eventually could not be detected at all.

STILL,nothing from the alien ship. I thought about what Father Veronica had suggested in the Wasteland, and I could understand how an argument might be made that the aliens (or, I suppose, the alien ship’s systems, in an automated response mode), were taking only defensive actions, and that their lack of any other overt action was an indication that they meant us no harm.

But I had seen all those bodies in their ship, the frozen and mutilated corpses, along with all those on Antioch, and I knew the aliens were responsible for them. I’d also seen that old woman who was clearly not an old woman, and I knew . I had made mistakes, and I had been wrong about any number of things, but I was not wrong about this. We might not understand what they were doing, or why they had not yet made an overt attack or attempt to board us, but I knew it was only a matter of time. They would come after us—in stealth or in a frontal attack, singly or in hordes. They would come.

Imet with Cardenas and Nikos after the failure of the missiles. We went to a viewing room much like the command salon where we could sit and look out at the alien ship. Cardenas looked haggard—her face was drawn, the skin beneath her eyes puffy and dark. Nikos didn’t look much better. I wondered how I looked.

“When was the last time you slept, Margita?” Nikos asked.

She shrugged. “Don’t know, and it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. We need to remain alert. Take a one-or two-hour sleep tab whenever there’s a lull. That’s what I’ve been doing. You, too, Bartolomeo. Anything will help.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Cardenas said. “Now let’s talk about something important—what we do next.”

Nikos sighed in resignation. “Fine, Margita. What do we do next? Blow off the forward levels of the Argonos , if I remember right.”

“That’s the plan.” She gave a tired laugh. “Hopefully we won’t be blowing off too much of the ship. I’m not surprised nothing’s worked so far. They were able to detect explosives directed at them, and their technology to deal with them is obviously better than ours. But I don’t see how they’ll be able to stop this, because this time we’ll set off explosives in our ship.”

Nikos gestured for her to continue. “Just tell us what needs to be done.”

“As a precaution, we evacuate three more of the forward levels.”

“That’ll mean personal cabins. They won’t like that.”

“Too damn bad. And we can’t give them time to take anything with them. Tell them it’s only a precaution, and that their cabins will be intact afterward. It’s probably true. Just get them out. Hell, if they don’t want to get out, screw ’em, let them die.”

“Then what?”

“While that’s happening, we place shaped charges on the interior walls of the hull, in a ring around the area of the docking mechanism. Two rings, actually. And we go an extra level deep. Make sure every hatch in the top few levels is sealed. We’re going to rupture the hull, we’re going to blow a big hole in it. If the docking mechanism remains intact, it won’t matter, because we’ll have blown off that section of the ship.” She cocked her head at Nikos. “The drives and engines are still ready, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. As soon as we break loose, we’ll want to get out of here faster than hell. The crew and security soldiers will be at battle stations.”

“Battle stations,” Nikos repeated with a shake of his head. “I didn’t believe we’d ever resort to that on this ship. Drills, theory, irregular practice runs on weapons… I wonder what the real thing will be like. I wonder how people will perform.”

“We’re going to find out soon enough, Captain.”

SEVENhours later, everything was ready. I joined Nikos, Cardenas, and a small operations team in the emergency bridge. The bridge was small and dark, the only lights coming from instrument panels and tiny, focused hazard lights. Kirilen manned the main controls. Small monitors displayed images of the area around the docking mechanism.

Nikos nodded, and Kirilen keyed in the codes to arm the charges. Red lights flashed in front of him, indicating they were armed. Nikos looked around the dark room once more. He turned back to Kirilen and nodded again.

Kirilen pressed the detonation switches and we all tensed, waiting for the shock to hit us. Seconds passed. Too many seconds. We felt nothing, not even the slightest jolt.

The red lights continued to flash. Kirilen pressed the switches again. Ten more seconds. Still nothing.

“Son of a bitch!” Nikos said. “What happened?”

“Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.”

“Again, damn it!”

Kirilen punched the switches. Nothing. Nikos looked at Cardenas.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “They can’t have known. They can’t have deactivated those charges inside our own ship. They can’t …” Her voice trailed off. Her expression was blank, her gaze unfocused. Then she turned and stared at the still flashing red lights.

“Sir?” Kirilen asked, waiting for orders.

No one answered him.

“Margita?” Nikos said.

She blinked once, then finally looked up. She stared at him, her expression still unchanged. “I don’t know, Captain.”

She straightened, the sounds of her back cracking loud in the small room, then walked to the door and opened it, letting in a wide beam of dim corridor light. As she went through the door she stopped and turned back. “I’m going to take your earlier advice and get some sleep. If I come up with any other ideas, I’ll let you know.” She paused. “But I wouldn’t count on it.” Then she turned and walked out.

Nikos turned to me. “Bartolomeo?”

“Think the bishop still wants to be captain?” It was the only thing I could think to say.

It did get half a smile from him. “Go get some sleep, Bartolomeo.”

“And you?”

“I will, too. I doubt anything will happen soon—they don’t seem to be in any hurry—but I’ve got to set the watch.” He looked at the flashing red arming lights. “In twelve hours, Executive Council session. Assuming nothing’s come up before then.”

“I’ll be there.”

Islept for six hours, and could have slept six more. When I emerged from my quarters, I could feel the change—a stifling, acrid and electric bite to the air. Fear.

In the corridor not more than fifty meters from my quarters, an old woman lay facedown against the wall, arms cradling her head. I shuddered, fearing for a moment that the old woman from the alien ship had returned, teleporting herself from her coffin back into the Argonos . But the hair color was wrong, the clothes were different, and she was shorter than the alien had been.

The woman was murmuring to herself, punctuating indistinct words with tiny, quiet, barking sounds. As I passed her, she turned her head, exposing her face and staring at me. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“ Cantus astronomicus, domine astronomy…”