He Without Sin (16 page)

She had Craig make slightly different marks to
stand for the days they would be gone, with
another special mark for the day when they are to
come back. This way, maybe Al will mark off the
days on his own and be able to anticipate their
return.

It was of some special interest to all when it was
noticed that Al made his own special mark, like a
dot or tiny circle, right under the previous day’s
crossed-off mark. We had a discussion of the
significance, if any, of this mark but got nowhere
fast. It was finally David himself that said, “Full
moon. It was a full moon last night.”

Change of Plan

“Have you heard about Mark’s latest toy?”

“If you mean the solo flyer, not only have I heard about it, I’ve taken it up. It’s wonderful.”

“No kidding? You’ve taken it up?”

“Through the mountains near base camp. Just for fun. He says it’s a snap here for a unit like that since the atmosphere is so thick, and it’s even more so down here I notice. ‘Here’ being at sea level, or nearly.”

“Let me get this straight. You flew his new toy up over base camp?”

“Yes. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” She’s something.

Carol and I have taken some time to be alone and explore for a few days. At the moment we are at 31 West and 9 South on a small dune at the base of a tall bluff right where one of the planet’s continents meets the ocean. Majestic. The bluff is one of several that extend as far as the eye can see north and south of us. Our view of the western horizon is clear and magnificent. In the far north the horizon is obscured by clouds or mist or rain.

“It’s something here, isn’t it.” She says as a statement, not as a question. I nod, not knowing if she sees me nod, but knowing that she is aware that I agree. We both look at the sky, the sea, the birds. Way out in the water, some kind of animal surfaces briefly, then again, and again, and is gone. We are facing west, toward the sea and the setting sun.

“Yes, it is,” I say. She looks at me with a slight but discernible questioning expression. “Something,” I say, “It’s something.” She laughs in that way that I like and for a few moments I watch as the onshore breeze plays with her hair. She is looking back at the water.

“It’s called Amara.”

“It is? You mean…”

“Here; the planet. Amara.”

“Amara. Nice. I like it.”

I notice the way the sun is approaching the horizon and how the reflection of the sun plays off the myriad swells, waves, and wavelets. I fix now on that reflection and see the intense contrast between the dark ocean and the momentary sparkles of the reflected sun. The effect is mesmerizing as each part of the surface of the ocean, in its turn, is lifted or descends, tilts backward or forward, right or left, and for an instant, perhaps, is at exactly the right angle to reflect the sun to my eyes.

“You ok?”

“I’m ok. You?” And we somehow both know that we are. “Shall we sleep out again this evening? We are totally remote. There is no danger. Or we could set up the dome tent here or maybe back a little closer to the bluff. I’m good either way. I want to be able to hear the surf though; that’s a must.”

She doesn’t answer, but hooks her arm into mine and inches a little closer.

I am tending to ignore my communicator, at least not jump when it buzzes, during this time alone with Carol. Nothing can be that important. And a little time off is something that I… we have been looking forward to for a long time. But I do look now and notice ‘Gleshert’ flashing in the ID window and decide to pick up. It’s a text: DAVID HURT. WANTS YOU TO COME NOW. Good grief. David’s hurt? But he’s OK enough to ask for me? Why me? Too late to ignore; Doc knows I received it. I show Carol the message and then type a response: WHERE? I don’t see any other option so I begin to pack up. Carol doesn’t say anything but joins in the packing in her careful and deliberate way. BASE CAMP, the reply comes back. I arrange for a pickup as soon as possible.

______

“Shut it down! Shut the damn thing down!”

“Take it easy, Commander, quit yelling, and lay back,” advises Doc.

David does not look good but I imagine it looks a lot worse under the bandages on his left arm and on the left side of his face. His salt’n’pepper hair is sticking out in crazy directions. “Shut down… You mean the bio camp?” I ask tentatively.

“Yes, I mean the bio camp. The camp, the surrounds, the whole thing. Shut it down. Now. Brachus, you organize it. Shipley, you assist. Arwyn, prepare to transport equipment and materials out; salvage what you can.” David closes his eyes for a moment, evidently trying to maintain composure. Mark, Brachus and I are the only visitors, aside from Doc.

Gleshert insists, “Take it easy David, it’s not that urgent. You said so yourself not so long ago. Don’t move.” Vanessa has entered and she administers what I presume must be a calming agent. No flirting this time—all business.

“I said it but I changed my mind. That’s why I called you all here. I want the site dismantled. They are probably inside right now getting into who knows what.” And David looks at each of us in turn.

“We are all right David. I’ve got Lester and Alain there right now. Chris too. They are tightening everything down. Nobody’s in and nobody’s gettin’ in.”

“Damn it man, make sure they somehow secure above. The bastard came over the wall and almost fell right on me. He hit the cover, ripped it and came right through.”

“Yes sir,” says Brachus, “I’m on it. The intruder Alpha is out and he and his mate have been escorted out of the area. They have no serious injuries. Roof closure has been resealed and nothing is coming in that way unless we open it.”

David relaxes somewhat and the tension in his demeanor recedes as he lays back and closes his eyes. He does not look at any of us but does say something too quietly to make out.

“Sir?” says Brachus as we in attendance glance questioningly at each other.

“I said, don’t hurt him. Them. Don’t hurt them.” David angles his head toward us as if to say something more. Instead, he turns back and closes his eyes again.

I was right about Vanessa and the sedative; he’s resting. We file out and try to understand what happened.

Doc comes out with us and short-circuits any questions by saying, “Here’s what I know. David has a nasty facial laceration and a broken left forearm. Other damage too minor to mention. None of this is major; he will be back to normal soon. Physically.

“Now, here’s what I’ve been told. Mr. Alpha (I guess you call him) simply would not mind his own biscuits and somehow scaled the wall of David’s little secret lair down there. David was alone inside and was apparently in just the right spot to receive the visitor—on his head. It was at this point that the side of David’s face was damaged by the raw edges of the broken cover and supports. The cover material must’ve broken his fall because Alpha stumbled to his feet and started to look around at the equipment, the lights, the screens. You know, bewildered. David thinks that he was so stunned that he didn’t know he fell on David at all, since he didn’t even seem to see or notice him in the first moments of looking around. There were a couple changes of clothing hanging by the bunk area and for a moment Alpha advanced toward them, probably mistaking them for people. At about this time, he turned and for sure saw David but was too disoriented— frightened, says David—to know what to do. I imagine David was a sight; there must’ve been a lot of blood from the wound to his face. It was then that aggressiveness took over from fear, or because of fear, and Alpha grabbed something and came at David and swung. David still doesn’t know what hit him. Literally. Fortunately he was able to operate his weapon and disable Alpha before anything more happened.”

“How did we not know he was climbing the enclosure, or even know that he was in the area?”

“Surely you are not asking me?” says Doc, “I’ve told you everything I know. Physically David will be fine. I believe he will take longer to heal emotionally. He’s disappointed at the collapse of his little project.” With this last comment he excuses himself.

“Mark, can you shuttle me down there?” asks Brachus. “I need to see how the boys are doing. I’ll get them to open the landing area just before we touch down.”

“Absolutely,” replies Mark, and then to his genie comms unit, “Porter? You there buddy? Pick up, Jimmy.”

“No Mark, I want you to do it,” counters Brachus.

I detect a brief flash of irritation crossing Mark’s face before he begins to answer. “Not a problem, not a problem.”

“Here. What’s up?” says Porter’s voice through the tiny speaker.

“Forget it. False alarm. Wait, what’s the status over there? Transport in?”

“We don’t need the large one,” suggests Brachus.

“Yes we do,” says Mark. “I do. Doesn’t make sense to go there and not bring back a load of salvage in tow. We’re taking the transport.”

“Room for me too?” I ask, looking only at Mark for a response.

“Sure. The more the merrier. Pile on in. OK by you?” Mark asks, giving a look towards Brachus.

Porter’s voice interjects, “It’s out now but should on its way in in a couple days. Won’t take long to unload.”

“Most certainly,” agrees Brachus in answer to Mark’s question.

Mark nods to the one and to the other says, “Nope, contact them please and say it must be here tomorrow. Any static, let me know.”

While waiting, I am able to catch up on the work that has been piling up since I took off with Carol on our aborted vacation. Who drops their brand new genie off a cliff? Pearce from the helm was down for a visit, was exploring in the mountains around base camp. ‘What happened?’ says I. ‘Bad footing, slipped on the sand and gravel’, says he. Several other minor issues were in my inbox. Nothing major to contend with though.

Another of the bio area cams has blinked out and I may be able to look at it when we go down.

______

Mark is on an interesting project, as always. He’s putting together the first pieces of the homeward bound launch boost system—the so-called double L system. It’s quite a sight, consisting of a swivel mount and a dangerous looking beamer. It’s big, but still seems to me to be way too small compared to the Hobbe. Mark says the power it can transmit is enormous and is delivered via repeating impulses.

“We will all be able to see it in action when we send off the mission history pod near the end of our stay. Should be a good show,” he says while smiling and working on some hardware on his table. His red hair seems thinner and longer than I remember and he has to brush it back when he looks up. “You ready?”

“Sure, fire it up,” I say, ready to see a demo.

“No, this thing would blow the roof off if it we fired it up in here. I mean ready to go down to the crater.”

“Hah?”

“The crater—David’s bio camp; our Commander’s late project. The transport is ready to take us down and see what we can salvage. Let’s go see if I still know how to fly it.”

We head out to the flyer; Brachus is there waiting for us. He looks at me but does not nod or otherwise greet me. Instead he climbs into the transport. I get an alert and ‘Bevan’ shows up on my genie ID with an urgent flag. “Hold up guys, let me get this.”

“Hey J, I’m comin’ to base camp to see you, mate.”

“No can do, I am leaving right now and don’t know when I will be back. Out a few days, more than likely.”

“Belay that. Orders from the top. Need your undivided attention. On my way down. See you in a bit.”

And he’s gone, just like that. I am not sure what this means but hesitate to take off and instead say, “Guys, I just got an urgent message from Grigor. He’s on his way down from the ship right now. Don’t know what it’s about, but he says he needs to see me.”

Mark answers, “No problem. Wesley has to go; I’ll take him now. Between the four or five of us down there, I’ll load up as much salvageable material as I can. You can take the next flight out if you want. I’ll set it up. Porter’s your man.”

I’m telling you, I sometimes think Mark should be running the show. He knows how to make a decision and it sounds like the right one to me. I head from the landing area back to the camp proper, get a cup of Porter’s ‘burnin’ fire’ from the mess hall, and head over to Mark’s work area waiting for Grigor. There is always something interesting to see there. I’ve learned it’s best not to touch anything.

______

“Hey, Cap’n! There you are. Permission to come aboard granted!” I hear when entering the crowded workshop. It serves as a sort of control center for production and fab, as an inventory storehouse, and as the primary work area for Mark. There is a wide array of parts, assemblies, tools, and test equipment on the several workbenches.

“Oh, Hi. I didn’t realize…” I start, taken aback at finding the shop occupied. “Is that Goodwin? Sorry, hello…”

“Al is fine, just fine. The wizard is out. You are Jay. It’s a bit rough in here. How are your sea legs?”

“Sea…?” I notice Alain is weaving somewhat as he speaks. And he’s carrying a beat up cup. “I am good Alain… Al. How are you?”

“Oh, that Mark’s a wizard and I am fine, just fine. A sip for you?” he asks, indicating the cup. And then, “Ah, you needs yer own mug. Yer own mug fer sher. Yer own… Here we go. Be right back Cap’n!” He says merrily, weaving his way farther into the shop.

I can guess what sort of ‘production’ Mark has branched out into now. When Goodwin returns I take a sniff and small sip. At least it’s not the horrible concoction that Mark makes for himself.

“Here’s to you and to me and all the ships at sea in this godforsaken ocean of stars!” We drink, my sip and his gulp.

“What are you doing here?”

“Emergency, emergency. Brought the ore tram in. Big rush. Heard Davy got jumped by Al. Not me, the other Al.” Alain finds this comment amusing and chuckles a moment. “I am fittingly paid for my troubles howsomever.” Another gulp. “Have a seat,” he continues and begins to push clear an area on the bench nearest him.