Orb (35 page)

For now, he’d concentrate on Kelly.

“OK, Doctor Takara, you have something in mind. Spill it.”

“Everybody knows the Orb are aficionados of the violin,” she said, watching as he digested the remark. “Well, it’s been suggested that I play for them.”

Even though hearing the idea for the first time, Thompson caught on immediately. “Vibrations. Seems innocuous enough. Good idea.”

“Don’t you think so?!” Kelly said, trying to foster whatever favorable momentum she could before I complicated things. “Kyle thought of it!”

“Uh huh.” Thompson responded. “Why do I think there’s more to this?”

“Maybe I should explain,” I said.

“Yes. Why don’t you do that.”

“I previously mentioned to Kelly—she voiced her misgivings—that I wanted an opportunity to contact the Orb. I never connected it to the violin, although I probably should have since that could bring the Orb closer.”

Thompson decided to bring Paul and Diana into the conversation.

“And what do you two know about this?”

“Only the part about the violin,” Diana responded, Paul indicating agreement. “Kyle mentioned
that
two days ago. When you wanted ideas on how to make contact.”

“Let me get this straight,” Thompson said, his attention returned to Kelly. “You play the violin … I suppose you have a specific selection in mind—”

“—as a matter of fact, I do,” Kelly inserted, ignoring the inflection in Thompson’s voice indicating he wasn’t really soliciting a response. “I thought Beethoven appropriate for the occasion.
Opus 61 in D Major Concerto for Violin and Orchestra
. Second movement, sans orchestra, of course.”

“Of course,” Thompson said, undeterred, “And while playing—like
you’re
some kind of present day Pied Piper—the Orb are magically drawn closer.” It was plain to see Thompson was immensely enjoying himself. He shifted attention to me. “In the meanwhile, Kyle squats on a submerged boulder, waiting. Waiting like
he’s
some kind of wannabe Jonah about to be swallowed whole by a whale.”

Hell, I thought, that was almost as apropos as my allusion to Moby Dick.

“That pretty much sums it up,” I said, “although that may be the first time in recorded history the Pied Piper and Jonah were mentioned in the same breath. You did, however, leave out one character: Our ambassador, Angie. Where I go, she goes. Or should I say where she went, I hope to go. I believe she’s the only reason this idea has any chance of working.”

That last remark, Angie’s inclusion, captured Thompson’s imagination. He turned a bit more serious, soliciting Paul and Diana’s opinion. “And what do you think of this?”

“Dangerous,” Paul volunteered. “Is it outlandish? No more farfetched than a perfectly round planet that harbors a perfectly round entity, that—”

“I get it,” Thompson interrupted. “Diana?”

“Why Kyle? Why not someone with a science background? Like myself, perhaps.”

“Hold on,” Paul said. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves here, subjugating the danger for the chance to make amends for how we comported ourselves as a species.”

“I suppose we are,” Thompson responded. “But I find that to be more acceptable than proceeding from the standpoint of other expectations placed on us.”

“Does this mean you approve?” I asked.

“No,” Thompson responded. “This needs airing out.” He gestured at the worktable. “While we’re sitting down.”

Once we were seated, Thompson said, “Someone’s missing. Get Melhaus out here.”

“Why bring him into this?” Diana complained. “He’s the cause of this discussion.”

“Does that mean we should deny him the benefit of our better conduct?” Thompson countered. “I refuse to accept that he’s irredeemable. Perhaps it was what he said when I informed him that the Orb were the probable cause of
Ixodes’
demise.”

“And that was?” Diana asked, doubting it could make a difference.

“Not following my directive was contributory.”

“Said with an ulterior motive.”

“Could be,” Thompson acknowledged.

Melhaus was retrieved from
Desio
. While being made comfortable near the table, Thompson addressed him.

“Thanks in no small part to your wanton actions, Doctor, our standing with the Orb has diminished. Nevertheless, I invite you to assist in evaluating what Kyle has proposed in this regard.”

“I shall furnish my best advice.”

“Like a well-worn sofa. Isn’t that comforting,” Diana said to me in a whisper. I grinned, but agreed with Thompson. Society would exact punishment on Melhaus soon enough, but until that day came, including him in
our
society might have a positive effect. There was no downside other than Diana’s annoyance, and much of that was an affectation.

With or without Melhaus’s participation, I’ve had more pleasant experiences than the conversation that ensued, most of it concerning what might happen to whomever entered the Orb, including (singly or in combination) being captured, crushed, stranded, altered (mentally, molecularly, or even, as Diana said, sexually), drowned, electrocuted, asphyxiated, and irradiated. Unfortunately, Kelly was also obliged to endure this ordeal, but for my sake she attempted to remain stoic.

I asserted that none of the aforementioned calamities befell Angie, nor would they likely happen to me, especially if I was with her. This, at least in my mind, rendered moot who, other than myself, should attempt contact: If Angie were involved, I wouldn’t allow anybody to go in my place. No one argued that point; in fact, Paul noted that there might be some benefit conveyed if the Orb could somehow sense the strong emotional bond between Angie and me.

I emphasized that the Orb displayed no hostility whatsoever—either before or after the laser provocation. The remarkable weather phenomenon was, in all likelihood, a demonstration of ability, a warning to behave.

As to what happened to
Ixodes,
two ideas presented themselves: The entity was protecting the phytoplankton; the sub, an inanimate, robotized device, was viewed as something akin to an intrusive virus. Both ideas were speculative, making what I next said to Thompson a little problematic.

“Bruce, I realize you have a tough decision to make, but I strongly believe that our technology is far more alien to the Orb than the life-form we represent; it is either incomprehensible to the entity or has, for some reason not clear to us, been rejected. Although our existence has become dependent on material things, the opposite may be true of the Orb, an entity conceivably hundreds of millions of years old, yet without apparent possessions. Sorry, Bruce, I don’t wish to make this any harder on you.”

“If I understand correctly, you’re eschewing any form of monitoring?”

“Afraid so.”

“Doctor Melhaus. What do you think about this?”

I found it interesting that Thompson would seek Melhaus’s opinion first. If he was seeking a counterpoint to mine, he didn’t find it.

“Unless allowed by the entity,” the physicist responded, “we have no monitoring device or communicator capable of emitting a signal that can penetrate the Orb from within. There is the potential danger of attempting to do so.”

“Spoken from personal experience,” Diana said, only this time loud enough for all to hear.

A few days ago an argument would have ensued. Today, Melhaus offered up only a tepid “yes.” Diana seemed disappointed. I leaned into her and in a much lower voice said, “Too bad. Fun’s all gone.”

“There’s always you,” she responded.

Thompson told us to shut up, then elicited Paul’s opinion about the matter at hand.

“I reluctantly agree with Kyle and Larry.”

“Change of heart?” Thompson asked.

“Not really.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“It’s what you said previously. If we are doing this to make amends, to impart a better sense of what we are
really
all about, then collection of hard data must be truly subordinated.”

“What about you, Diana?” Thompson asked.

“I agree that Kyle and Angie are inseparable. I also understand the arguments for not equipping Kyle with instrumentation. But this is a scientific expedition. As such wouldn’t a scientist be better able to evaluate the information gathered by the best instruments of all, our five senses? Sorry, no offense Kyle.”

“None taken,” I said. Her argument was persuasive.

Thompson withheld his response. “Kelly? We haven’t heard from you. I’ll give you a pass if you feel your advice would be compromised by personal feelings.”

Tough spot, I thought. And I put her there. Sorry.

“I…. No,” Kelly responded. “No! It would be a huge mistake to send anybody
but
Kyle! Don’t you see, Bruce? We
tried
collecting data! Let something else take precedent!”

“And what would that be?” Thompson asked.

“Shall I try to name it? I’m not sure I can. Remember Kyle’s words when we were flying over what we assumed to be an ocean? He said ‘something intangible’s at play.’ It took Paul’s genius to solidify that feeling into a concept our minds could accept. But to what extent have we accepted it? You admitted yourself, we are still having trouble grasping the true nature of what is out there. If there is any chance of doing so, Kyle will come the closest.”

If I needed proof of Kelly’s love and affection, well there it was hitting me right between the eyes. True acceptance of her devotion caused something to go click in my head. I had a rush akin to Paul’s electrifying experience when
he
accepted the planet’s ocean for what
it
really was. How do I word this? It was if the brain, in trying to accommodate something shockingly new, rewires itself, creating new pathways through which it sends a current to every part of the body. The only way I could share this feeling, to complete this circuit, was by touching Kelly’s hand under the table.

Thompson tactfully ignored me as I hid the struggle to retain my composure.

“No dissension,” he commented. “Except Diana’s point, that a scientist should attempt this. But I have to ask, do we even comprehend what is being attempted? Is anything comparable within our experience? What will transpire? Maybe nothing at all. More likely nothing we can imagine. I’m forced to consider what Kyle—too often—tells us: True communication requires information to be passed both ways. Sending and receiving. Who among us is best suited to do this?

“Was it merely coincidence that Kyle saw, or nearly as important,
imagined
he saw the Orb before any of us? That the name he chose for the planet so aptly describes everything about it? That he has a strong affinity for the water? That, at the start of the mission, he refused to leave Angie behind? That he, among a group of imaginative candidates, was chosen for this mission? That he was specifically chosen to provide a perspective that differed from—sometimes to the point of annoying—us scientists? Well, he’s done that often enough, hasn’t he?”

Thompson looked down at his hands, then stared out to the far horizon. Out there was serenity; the most perfectly stable planet ever encountered. Out there was the promise of a better understanding—and a decision.

“You see,” Thompson said, glancing around the table, then settling on Diana, “how I’m tending to view this. Diana, sorry. If he makes it in and out, we’ll have to be content with grilling him. Thoroughly.”

“You can count on it,” Diana replied.

“Kyle, “Thompson said, “We will proceed. But for our edification, what exactly is compelling you to do this? What is your motivation?”

“That’s easy,” I said. “Curiosity, but of a personal sort. I joined this mission because I wanted to climb out of the box I put myself in. What better way than stepping into a perfectly round sphere?”

“From where I sit,” Thompson responded with a quick glance at Kelly, “you’re out already.”

Maybe Kelly or I blushed, but something caused Diana to seize on Thompson’s remark. Turning to Paul, she said, “Do they look like they’re in love to you? They look like they’re in love to me.”

There were no dissenters.

“One more thing, Kyle,” Thompson said, pointing to the spires as we rose to make preparations. “If you get into the Orb and don’t get an answer to what formed those, don’t bother coming out again.”

I needed a crewmate to continue my mission chronicle during the interval I might be inside the Orb. My first inclination was to ask Kelly, but I had already placed one burden on her.

I asked Paul to join me in my cabin.

“Do you have any objection to adding your own observations and impressions to my work if I’m otherwise indisposed?”

“Not at all.”

“I can’t think of anyone who’d do it better. Do you need my recorder?”

“Mine’s functioning.”

“The file name is
Orb
. I’ve removed all security except a password:
Aishiteru
. I spelled it.

“Japanese?”

“Yes.” I told him the definition. Then I told him the meaning.

“Thompson was right about you,” Paul commented. “Only I’d say that proverbial box of yours is exploding from within.”

“Stand back. Wouldn’t want to get any on you.”

“Too late for that.”

“Seems like we’re
all
preoccupied with hurling ourselves outward across the cosmos. In the process, what are we discovering? That flinging ourselves further and further outward is distracting us from facing inward?”

“You’re generalizing. That may describe humanity. I doubt it
generally
describes the crew. Specifically, it does not describe you.”

“Problem is, Paul, what I’m feeling about myself is lagging behind what is being said about me; the immense goodwill I have for a specific few—present company included—is sadly lacking toward people in general.”

“Ah,
mon ami
,” Paul said, rising, “the proper wording of a problem often helps define the solution. I must be off. Thompson wants the cameras repositioned.”

With Angie in tow, I headed straight for Kelly’s cabin.

She was sitting on her bed. Spread out beside her were old-fashioned pages of sheet music. I leaned against the jam of the open doorway to watch as she tuned her violin.