He Without Sin (25 page)

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still coming to grips with the revelation.

“I heard from Dylan; he’s tied up. And there’s something going on not too far away that I want you to see. I think you will be interested in what may happen this evening and we have to get going.” Mark pauses for a moment, looking me over. “Why so surprised? I told you I might be coming.” I shake my head no, but he counters by saying, “Yes, I did tell you and I said that I would give you as much notice as I could. This is it.”

After he startled us—no—startled me near the
settlement, we hiked to Dylan’s field dome camp
where Mark got out of his getup. Carol and I didn’t
change. The runabout was hidden nearby and we
were soon on our way. Mark is in high demand,
however, and we had an unexpected detour to
base camp.

On the way in we three talked about the
juxtaposition of primitive development and current
technology. For us, it’s a simple matter of stepwise
accommodation when technology advances at
home. Some new technology is introduced and,
sooner or later, it is no longer novel, no longer new. Another technology comes along—the same thing. It’s similar to watching a child grow. You see him or
her every day, you don’t notice the changes, but
changes there are, and they accumulate. If you
don’t see that child for a few years, then the
changes can be startling.

But here, on this world, the steps from their current
state to ours are almost beyond counting. There is
no ‘accommodation time’ long enough, in my
opinion. Imagine one of these locals having a look
at Amara from orbit, or seeing any number of our
myriad technologies—it just wouldn’t compute.

Carol agrees, but Mark says no. He says you hand
one of them a genie, show what it does and how to
us it, they would be all over it. I say impossible; he’s
just saying that to be contrary.

At base, we separate with instructions from Mark
to stay close and ready to go. I have a few
moments alone in the mess hall to log these latest
developments.

Witness

Unexpectedly, I am joined at a mess hall table by David.

“Jason, how are you?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Are you holding up?”

David nods but does not smile. “Tell me about yourself. I know some of your background; tell me about your family.”

I give him the briefest rundown and he perks up when I mention my brother.

“He left, just like that?”

“Just like that. Took some sort of testing job. I don’t know the details. Couldn’t take being cooped up in a cube. We left just after I found out.”

“Well, good for him. Sometimes you have to have a change.”

“He’s always had some odd ideas. Like his limits and borders ideas.”

“Yes, limits and borders. What about them? Go on.”

“He’s always had a thing about limits. It’s a kind of universal principle with him. He thinks limits are everything. I mean, they cause everything.” I pause, but David doesn’t respond. He’s thinking and working his habit. “I’m not saying it right. He can explain it to where it starts to make sense. Limits define everything, that’s what he says. You know, the blank sheet of paper concept.”

“No. Explain.”

“Ok. Students go into a class. The teacher says ‘write a one page paper.’ What happens?”

“Ok, a one page paper. On what topic?”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly?”

“If the teacher said ‘write a page on your family’ the students could begin immediately. But you see without the limit, without the topic, you get a blank stare from most, me included, because neither they nor I have any idea what to write. And he says the topic is irrelevant – could be anything at all. It’s the…”

“It’s the limit that makes it go. I see. He has a point, your brother. Very interesting.”

“If Tom were here, he could tell you more. Like life itself. Without the limit of the cell wall, inside from outside, none of us,” indicating we two, “would exist. Limits. You see?”

“I do see. Again. He is right. I will think about this some more for sure. Did he have any words of wisdom on how to use this principle? How do you put it to work?”

“I wish he were here. I can’t tell you how to use it. Sorry!”

“Jason, thanks. Good talking to you. I needed a break.”

______

Mark pilots the three of us out of base camp and back in the general direction from which we lately came. He’s being all secretive except to say that there is something we should see. For a change, I’m not watching our course or coordinates closely and instead enjoy the view of the landscape passing below us in the afternoon sun. I seem to see a worried expression on Mark’s face as he looks back at us. No, he’s looking at Carol. This makes me worry now too. Where is he taking us?

We land and exit the vehicle. From our vantage point we overlook a wide and flat valley. Mark uses field binoculars and then hands them to me.

“Take a look.”

I see there is activity on the valley floor.

“What’s going on?”

“The natives are restless as they say.”

“Restless? They’re more than restless. They’re fighting. They’re attacking one another,” I say as I continue to scan the action. “So this is one of the battles… I presume one side is ours? Can you tell which is which?”

“I can’t. But if you can hang around, we’ll find out.” Mark looks first at me, then at Carol. “Do you want to have a look? I don’t recommend it.”

Carol shakes her head and asks, “How did you know about this?”

“Got a tip.”

“What do you mean ‘we’ll find out’?”

“Just wait ‘til dark and then we might see. Can I see those again?” he asks. I hand over the binos and Mark scans the area some more. “There. Western side of the valley. You can see him.”

“What? Let me see…” The valley runs generally north and south and the sun is setting over the low hills on the western side. I can just make out the unmistakable shape of one of our flyers. “So that’s Brachus? What’s he up to?”

“Can I see?” asks Carol. She takes a few moments and then says, “No kidding. There he is and Lester too.”

The view through binoculars shows clear enough that the bloody battle has been in full swing since well before we arrived. The casualties, dead and wounded, are strewn grotesquely on the ground as small groups of men now rush forward, now are beaten back; other groups rush forward, get beaten back and the whole scene reeks of chaos and disorder. Dusk spreads, the conflict before us continues. From our distance, we are spared the full horror of the slaughter. Still, we can hear the din, albeit muffled and indistinct.

“It’s getting dark. I’m ready to go,” says Carol, clearly not enjoying the spectacle.

“Hold on, just a bit more,” answers Mark. He’s looking again towards that western side of the valley.

“There. There it is. Look. You don’t need the binos.”

Sure enough Carol and I both look and see lights have come on from the spot where we saw Brachus. I’m shocked and look to see that Carol is too. Mark is watching our reactions. The lights create a wide but intense beam and illuminate the field of battle such that the momentarily bewildered combatants could continue their struggle. And continue they
do
.

“That’s what I wanted you to see” says Mark. He explains that he was charged with providing the light array on the flyer. “It’s not clear if they are stooping to the level of instigating these clashes, but they have no qualms about interfering with them. If it seems like the ‘good guys’ need assistance in the form of intelligence of the enemy’s whereabouts, strength, or tactics, or if they need a couple more hours of daylight to complete their victory, Wesley is happy to provide it.” We turn to go. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure if this is what David imagines when he says to ensure our people prosper and multiply,” I answer.

We have gotten pretty good at blending in and
fending for ourselves. Dylan’s still our guide and
protector if we get in a jam. We help gather
information about the number of families, their
offspring and their settlements and in doing so help
keep an eye on their spread and multiplication. It’s
interesting that the people themselves—‘our’ people—are helping by keeping strict records,
orally and, more and more, in writing, of their
lineage.

Their elders are charged with maintaining lineage
records and communicating amongst their
extended families. These same elders also perform
rites and rituals for various social functions and
important milestones in their society. I’m not
comfortable with all of their actions; some seem
based on bad assumptions and superstition. But I
have come to agree with Carol that this behavior is
normal. After all, some of the interactions we are
having with them, intentional or otherwise, are so
outside of their experience as to be baffling and at
least a little frightening to them. They have to
make something out of it all, and so they do.

One of the rites Carol and I witnessed that I don’t
like is this business of ritual sacrifice. The use of oils
and grains and other foodstuffs is one thing, but
animals are another. It’s taken on a life of its own so to speak and seems to be widespread. What a
waste and for what purpose? It’s an odd thing for a
society to latch onto and perpetuate.

Dylan recounted to us of a time, many of their
generations ago, when Wes coerced natives to
bring him some of their food. This was back after
David first effectively ceded control of field
operations to Brachus. Anyway, the natives
brought in some fire-cooked meat and that was it. Brachus loved it. Dylan believes the current ritual,
believe it or not, stems from that first incident. Doubtful. But it had to start somehow and there’s
no reason to believe that if he asked for it back
then and liked it, that he wouldn’t keep on
demanding it if he could get away with it. What I
see, though, is a great waste of otherwise perfectly
good food.

Brachus is right about one thing: The aroma of
meat cooking over open flame is absolutely
intoxicating! I have yet to eat any but I can’t say
I’m not tempted. It makes the prospect of eating
our standard processed fare unappealing and
monotonous to say the least.

Demonstration

“Everyone, we have reached an important milestone in our mission.”

David stands just in front of his base camp quarters on an improvised riser. It is a beautiful, clear, calm day. The sky is the featureless deep blue that reminds one that the infinite blackness of space is just beyond. When the sun rises above the mountains it will be a different story, but now cool morning prevails. David is at his most charismatic in appearance, gesture, and tone. Carol catches my eye discreetly and indicates with a movement of her head and her eyes that she too notices that David seems better.

“We have been on this planet for almost exactly 2,500 years as they are measured here and we should all feel proud to be part of the success we’ve achieved as a team. Most important, although we have lived through many generations of the local inhabitants, we have not lost one single member of our crew. Dylan?—ah, there you are— Dylan gave us a scare a while back when he tried to serve himself as lunch down at bio camp. He is living proof you can’t keep a good man down.” Some reserved laughter is heard. “Seriously though, thanks to all for taking care of yourselves and each other, and a special thank you to Doctor Jacob and Nurse Vanessa for all that they do to keep us healthy.”

David visually locates Doc in the group and Gleshert looks around as if uncomfortable with being singled out. Vanessa, up front with the women, turns around with a big smile and bows. Before continuing, I see David search out Mark Arwyn in the crowd and Mark gives him a nod.

“So, today. It’s a special day. We have placed the entire official record of our mission up to this point—that is, ship log, ground log, R&R progress…”

Someone says “huh?” and David hears it.

“That’s ‘repair, refit and replenish’ the Hobbe, our ride home, in long hand. We’ve placed mission records in a capsule to be sent back to home base. We’ve included all of the data and graphics gleaned so far from our survey of the planet—space-and ground-based—all of it. All of the genetic information gathered, not just from the people here, but from much of the biota as well, is in the capsule. In a few moments… Yes, a question?”

“So, aren’t we going to make it back? Why are we sending this now instead of taking it all when we go?” asks Craig with a grin, but with concern in his voice.

“Good question, Craig. Look, we are going to be heading back, and sooner rather than later. The reports I’m getting suggest it’s nearly ‘all systems go’ for the return trip. And yes, we will have all of the data I just mentioned and more with us when we do go. But in the early days genetic expansion missions like ours were not as routine as they are now. There is still danger, don’t misinterpret, but we have learned many lessons over time on how to make these voyages safer and safer. It was a decision long ago that, rather than lose the data from an otherwise successful mission, an archive should be sent separately via a method that is nearly 100% assured of making it home. By the way, it was our ship’s namesake who returned the first GE mission archive capsule, Commander Hobbe.