Orb (40 page)

Deep Space Vessel
Marsden

Acting Commander Carla Ramirez

I feel constrained to attach the following to add a small measure of completion to the forgoing narrative which the author devoted so much of his self. I do this understanding full well that my report shall not bring closure to the matter I was sent here to investigate: The loss of the crew of the
Desio
. I fear that after eight days on Orb, and with the
Marsden’s
departure imminent, I will be judged as having failed in that regard. I will not concede that the crew met with an untimely end, even though no trace of them has been found and no conclusive evidence exists as to the exact cause of their disappearance.

To many, the crew’s fate was considered sealed when the
Desio
failed to enter Earth’s orbit during the short window of time allotted. Their ability to survive a harsh, nine-month-long winter on the planet was deemed impossible even if all life-support systems remained functional and Orb's vast ocean was somehow capable of sustaining human life.

There was also speculation within the upper echelons of CSA that
Desio’s
fate was in some manner linked to the adverse affect deep space missions have on human behavior. (How nearly true this was!) I can attest to those effects: During the outbound voyage two members of my crew were administered psychotropics and one was temporarily confined to quarters.

My crew had an additional reason to be restive. If
Desio’s
problems weren’t self-inflicted, we conceivably could be subject to the same tribulations that befell them. Keeping this in mind, I carried out the recovery mission with the utmost of caution, which I will describe in brief.

The missing ship was quickly discovered by locking on to her locator beacon. When our hailing signals went unanswered, I positioned the
Marsden
in a geostationary orbit directly above the
Desio
and utilized teloptics to view both the ship and the small island she rested on. She appeared to have arrived safely, mostly intact, although the fact that her laser had been dismantled and her submersible was nearby and in ruins gave us great cause for concern.

While still in orbit, and to avoid the possibility of putting my crew in harm’s way, I accessed and downloaded
Desio’s
data banks. Commander Thompson’s log and Mr. Lorenzo’s narrative were most informative. It would be an understatement to say that I was astounded by their content. Neither account, however, foretold what befell the crew, though Mr. Lorenzo’s (including the last automatic download from his personal recorder) best described what transpired immediately before all records abruptly ceased.

With an increased sense of foreboding, we left orbit and descended into the planet’s atmosphere. I had
Marsden’s
sensory array confirm the absence of bio, chem, or rad hazards. Satisfied of the results, we set down on the island, but at a prudent distance from
Desio.
Her hatchway was open and she appeared abandoned. The entryway exhibited minor damage from the elements. My science officer and I, wearing protective suits and carrying litescopes, navigated through the ship’s dark interior, quickly surveying each compartment for the crew, surprised at not finding their remains. We then proceeded to conduct a more thorough inspection. Propulsion and life-support systems had gone off-line, but they appeared to be in working order. Food and water were in sufficient quantity for the crew to have made the return voyage home. (Samples were tested and proven safe.) The standard-issue packet of emergency use L-capsules were still safely stored with Doctor Takara’s medical supplies. I found Mr. Lorenzo’s recorder lying on his workstation—probably just as he left it two and a half years ago. In brief, other than missing a crew, nothing else was noteworthy.

Scouring the island offered no clues to a deepening mystery.
Desio’s
flight recorder proved the ship had set down only once on the planet’s surface, eliminating the possibility that the crew visited (and therefore their remains could be found on) another island. It was the absence of remains that prompted my issuing instructions, briefly questioned by my first in command, to have the forsaken ship checked out, repaired, and secured from further damage.

Having, I believed, collected all the information available, I attempted to make logical assumptions: That Mr. Lorenzo’s narrative and personal recorder gives a clear idea of the time and date just prior to whatever befell the crew. That he most likely returned to the ocean after depositing his personal recorder in his cabin. That as evidenced by the excited tone in Doctor Takara’s voice, colored streaks were for the first time lighting the ocean. That on this one (and apparently only) occasion all crewmembers were in the ocean at the same time. Finally, that every member of the crew, not having departed the island by means of
Desio
, departed (willingly or not) via the ocean.

The question was how and why.

One theory: That Doctor Melhaus, respected for his genius, took some action, presently obscured by time and the elements, which adversely affected the entire crew. His improved demeanor, doubted perhaps only by Doctor Gilmore, suggests this was not the case. Furthermore, unless he was caught up in his own scheming, where was his body?

Another: That the Orb, intentionally or otherwise, was responsible for the demise of the crew. By all accounts the entity had the physical capacity to do harm. If one is to believe mission logs verbatim, however, the entity was cognizant, dare I say
protective
of anything identified as a life-form. Nevertheless, an understanding of the Orb is so massively incomplete that nothing can be absolutely ruled out or in, including an accidental occurrence that killed the crew at the very moment they were all in the ocean. (Because of this remote possibility, I ordered my crew to stay out of the ocean; after eight days the only indication of the Orb were the faint colors seen when the ocean water was swirled.)

Not at all satisfied with my faltering attempts at an explanation, I sequestered myself in my cabin and meticulously went through it all again. I stared at the holo images Mr. Lorenzo took of the marooned
Ixodes
. Something about them troubled me. Leaving the
Marsden
I made a second visit to the cove. There she was, wedged between the rocks, in the same exact position as seen on the holo images. With one striking difference. The ocean level now barely touched her.

I ran back to my ship, accessed and played back images taken of the Orb, concentrating on the relative water level on rock slabs lining the shore. Confirmation! Exactly what the holo images of
Ixodes
showed. What I was finding hard to believe: The ocean level had dropped by almost a meter!

But that didn’t make sense. There are no tides on Orb. The ice caps had not increased in size. The relative level of moisture saturation in the atmosphere was essentially unchanged. And yet, planetwide, an incredible volume of water (henceforth I shall not call it such) had vanished in less than three years!

I asked, practically demanded, that my science crew find an explanation.

They were unable.

It was then that I came to fully appreciate the melding of Mr. Lorenzo’s creative imagination with Dr. Melhaus’s brilliant science. If you have this same appreciation you might reach a similar conclusion. That delivered out of, and departed from, the planet is one huge Orb. That the crew of
Desio
is alive and along for one hell of a joy ride.

Of course there is presently insufficient evidence to support my supposition, or any other for that matter. As Commander Thompson would be inclined to say, each person, following his or her desire to create certainty, will have to choose what to believe.

GARY TARULLI

I graduated with a B.A. degree in Literature from the State University Of New York at Oneonta followed by many years as a civil servant in varying capacities: Social Services Caseworker; Housing Inspector; Radiation Control Unit Supervisor; Restaurant Plan Review Unit Supervisor; and, lastly, Hearing Officer. During my spare time I was the “hands on” general contractor for two homes—my primary residence on Long Island, New York, and a Catskills retreat. Activities I enjoy include scuba diving and skiing. My dog goes along for the ride.

Visit me at
www.orbthebook.com