He Without Sin (27 page)

“No. Do you really need it?” Dylan asks, looking at me. He looks back to the fire. “Ok, I’ll set it, but I’m telling you we are in no danger here.”

“This planet is wide open isn’t it? I mean the human population density is incredibly low compared to the available area isn’t it?” Carol asks, looking at the fire.

“And the animals—they don’t know what to think about fire. Curious, but more afraid. They won’t approach.”

The wood in the fire settles, crackling and sparking itself into a new configuration of temporary stability. I like how the fire is self-feeding up to a point. Unburnt pieces fall through gravity closer to the heart of the fire. It’s a skill for the fire-builder: how to place the logs to maximize this effect?

“I don’t mean to break the spell, but what can you tell us about the latest happenings? Are you able to keep up with the tracking?” I ask, looking not at the fire, but at Dylan.

“Yes, for the most part, with the help from you guys. And thanks for that. I also get a ton of info from Wesley’s group, believe it or not. From Rick Groth, Lester, and the others too. I think Wes wants to be visible doing something that he thinks David will have to approve of— the end result I mean.”

“You mean, he is tracking the line—oh, yes, of course he is. But what about details—do you get that too?” Carol asks.

“I took a page out of Jason’s book and started keeping a log. But the gist is this: Wesley is tracking the prime descendants, as it were, and takes care to see that they survive even if he has to intervene blatantly. Do I have to mention that he is ruthless with any natives that get in the way of his plans?”

The light evening wind is in our favor; smoke from the fire rises above us before drifting away. Dylan pauses to rearrange and stoke the fire. He seems at home as he moves around from light to shadow and back. He hands Carol and I something after which we see him take a bite and start chewing.

Without thinking, I start to take a bite. “What…what is this?”

“Good, huh?” Dylan asks with a smile. “That, sir, is real meat. Salted, smoked, shredded, dried, and compressed. What do you think?”

Too late to turn back now, I think, and cautiously bite off a small piece and chew.

“Well?”

I look and see that Carol has already had some and is looking at me smiling while chewing, with eyebrows raised.

“It’s… delicious. The taste is strong, but good. Are you sure…?”

“Don’t worry, it’s safe. Carol?”

“Yum. Tasty! You made this yourself?”

“In the village. With help. If this is your first, we’ll stop with that piece. Your system is used to our rations and may find this a shock.”

We chew in silence, watching the fire burn down, until our samples are gone. It really is good. I could get used to it. Dylan carefully places another log. The shock initiates the necessary swirl of sparks.

“But, as I was saying… He follows them. He rescues them, he talks to them, and he scares them.”

“Scares?”

“You know, like at the entrance to bio camp valley? Lights and speakers on the ground, or with drones. Flames even. He will startle them; give them messages or instructions to help them out of a jam or to find sustenance—whatever. It’s a game to him.”

“We saw a bloody large scale version of that with Mark. Major influence during a big battle. It went on for half a day. Gruesome, but he knew ‘our guys’ would win in the end.”

“If you call that winning,” says Carol.

“I worry about the frequent and obvious interaction. The people know they’re dealing with something way beyond their ken. Wesley’s developing some sort of a hero worship or cult mentality out there. Jason, Carol, it scares me. Ok, they are multiplying, yes, but they are also becoming dependent on outside help, on being given tips, instructions, advice.”

“I see what you mean.”

“Yes, I know you do, but there’s another side. Wesley likes it too much, in my opinion. Even when he’s not playing army with them, he’s enjoying the rest of it. The controlling, the threatening, the fear. Once Chris, that is, Chris Seaborn, talking to me and Lester, let something drop, accidentally I think. He said that Wesley had sent a large group to the mountains, our mountains mind you,” and he looks at both of us before continuing saying, “and they became lost, desperate and dying. Well, he stepped in with water and food. Our food.”

“Really?”

“That’s what he said. Apparently this was the prime line of descendants, or one of the prime, I don’t know, and couldn’t afford to be lost. They said Wesley took their leader aside, personally, up in our mountains to try to act as a mentor or something. They were laughing about the show he set up with fireworks and whatnot.”

“Our mountains? Not at base camp?”

“No, no, but in our mountains near base camp for sure. I don’t have the coordinates or anything.”

The flickering flames lend an eerie and intimate cast to our small gathering on this distant planet, one that has become a home away from home. Deep red dominates the fire now, with small blue and yellow flames licking first at one spot and then another. I see the occasional green colored flame appear and disappear. Must be a trace of copper in there somewhere.

Dylan makes ready a place near the fire, sits and lays back, and doesn’t say more. Carol and I both look up and see stars in the black sky through and beyond the dense forest canopy. The breeze must be stronger up higher as the treetops sway majestically against the starry background.

Carol still says David must be confronted and I am
beginning to agree. Why does it always have to be
me? I think Mark will help if we really need him, no
matter what he says now. Dylan has already
helped by sharing what he has seen and heard. I
knew from the start that he is not convinced that
our collective actions are for the best anyway, even
without a loose cannon like Brachus around. I think
he can be counted upon should we need him for
support.

The questions are two: how to convince David that
he needs to step up and retake control of the
mission, specifically the field operations of the
Resources group. I doubt he can be convinced
verbally. I believe at some point David will have to
see for himself what is going on; Carol disagrees. Second, it is my firm opinion that we have to be
ready with an answer when he asks, ‘What do we
do?’

I am finally forcing myself to take the time to read
more of the mission histories in the database. It’s a
lot to plow through, but there are good ideas in
there. Something may apply to our situation.

I am still elated from our camping out in the forest
primeval with Dylan. When we were out at the bluffs, we at first retreated to our little dome to
sleep. Not so in the forest. It was just magical and
Carol told me she feels the same way. Dylan says
the prox alarm was on but I wonder; he seems to
take a lot of chances. In the morning, the fire was
still smoldering, the air was cool and crisp and
there were any number of birds and small furry
creatures flitting and scurrying about. I remember
thinking in amazement at the time that here I am
waking on a strange but hospitable world
surrounded by unfamiliar plants and animals,
vulnerable in many ways, and yet with the strong
feeling that, yes, this could be a fine home to me,
to Carol, and the others, just as it is to the native
people.

Surprise

David eyes me suspiciously. He pushes his lower lip out, draws it back. He looks away and rubs his right temple with a slow circular motion. “Again? Really?” He turns his head back to me, elbows on the table in his base camp quarters, and puts his fingertips together. “Is it personal? Is there something you’ve got against him?”

I don’t think this is the time to confess my visceral dislike for Master Brachus. It would only serve to cloud the facts. “No, it’s not personal David. Not last time, and not this time. You saw the evidence from last time yourself. That was not personal. It was factual,” I answer calmly. “And it was a situation that only you could address.” I pause so as to leave room if he needs to comment. “And you did.”

David drops one hand to the table and his eyes flash, but just as fast as Mr. Means shows up, he departs again. “Ok. Alright,” David says with resignation in his voice. “Tell me.”

After laying out what I see to be the main issue with the current situation, I summarize the key point that I worked out earlier with Carol and say, “Look David, if you agree that genetically these people are on the right track, then it remains to us to try and leave them heading in the right direction as a society, if possible. Our current tack is based on punishment and the enforcement of arbitrary rules. It’s harsh and, I believe, a dead end; a failure after we leave.

But if we could change that direction, if we could change the emphasis from punishment to reward then we would have something; something self-sustaining. Something that the people themselves could understand and promote now and into the future. David, it’s something you could take back home with you as a legacy.”

______

“Whatever you told him worked, apparently,” says Mark a few days later.

“What do you mean, worked?”

“He commandeered one of the flyers again and has been covering lots of ground out there. Back and forth. He’s out as we speak. I peeked at the on-board memory and he’s not sightseeing; his movements are to the field locations of Wes’ team plus a few stops in between. What did you tell him exactly?”

“Has he said much to you? What’s his mood?”

“Mood? He hasn’t said anything to me. All business. He’s in that focused state where he doesn’t really see you. Some people get like that. They’re there, but then again they’re not. Whatever you did, you’ve got him thinking, that’s for sure.”

Mark brushes his hair off his forehead although it doesn’t need it. He looks on his worktable for something, but then turns and walks towards the back wall of his shop. He looks older now for some reason. His limp is more noticeable than I remember. But when he turns back, his grin is in place and he looks right at me and says, “Wes, on the other hand, is going to be pissed as hell.” I deliberately don’t react. “He’s going to know it’s you, you know. You’re a real troublemaker, you know.”

“Come on, it’s not me. Not just me. You know it and you agree, too, but you don’t say it. Besides,” I protest, “if it’s anyone, it’s him. It’s his attitude. He and his pals are out of control. Or should I say, in control. That’s the whole problem.”

Mark’s right though. No matter how it turns out, there is a high likelihood that Brachus will assume it’s me who’s the ‘complainer.’ And, he’s never said anything, but he must assume that I’m the one who blew the whistle when I showed David the hidden Resource team media. Lester let on as much. Lester has been loyal to him right through; his other crew not so much. But they haven’t ratted him out to David to my knowledge.

I know that, politically, David has to tread lightly. After all, we are all going to come through this adventure and out the other side together. Brachus is still going to be here, and the whole team will have to deal with it and work together, uncomfortable or not.

______

“Let’s get started. Sit down.”

David remains standing. He looks at every one of us as if he’s taking attendance. If my memory is correct, this is the only time, on the planet’s surface, that the entire mission team has been assembled. No, wait, at the archive capsule sendoff we were all there too. We are in the mess hall and the seating has been arranged like a small classroom in neat lines all facing David. Brachus is sort of loitering in the front of the assembly off to the side of David. I watch closely as David nods to him and indicates with a head movement that he, too, should be seated. Brachus grins and totters over on his spindly legs to a front row seat, making a show of politely asking the nearest person for permission to sit.

David looks like his old self again; the David we met back at the Academy, charismatic David. He remains in a casual posture, not speaking, still looking the gang over, not engaging any one particular person. Comments or greetings he answers only with a smile or nod; a question thrown to him by Grigor he cuts off with his hand by using a ‘stop’ gesture and shaking his head and turning his attention elsewhere.

After everyone is seated, the gathering becomes quiet. I feel the tension slowly increase as David, arms folded, remains silently standing and smiling, but not broadly. Next to me, Carol reaches over and takes hold of my hand. I look at her as she gives it a squeeze. I can tell she is pleased by the way David is commanding attention. I am not as pleased; I would rather he get on with it. I am afraid that I may get called out for blowing the whistle on Wes’ activities.

“Chris. Chris, where are you going? Please sit down.”

“To get something to drink?”

“Sit. Please. I won’t be long. Sit. Thanks.”

“Everyone. Please. Yes, it’s really me. The rumor that I’ve been replaced by one of Mark’s robots is false. And just to be clear, I have not been locked in my quarters contemplating how to clone myself and populate the entire planet singlehandedly.”

I too am starting to like what he’s doing. Capture the crowd, disarm them with humor.

“We have come to another milestone. Everyone, the last phase of our mission is about to begin. And the culmination of that phase is our return. Our return home, to civilization.” He again slowly scans the group. “This last phase is going to require some changes, and that’s what we are going to discuss now.” David unfolds his arms and stands erect, shifting his weight evenly to both feet.