Dreams of the Stars
Chapter 8

Reichmann nodded. “Very well. I will not pursue that point. But Boddy’s plan to abort our mission disconcerted me. I am sure it did you too.”

Now Reichmann had Jameson’s attention. Was it possible Reichmann might be an unexpected ally? “Yes, of course it did. I think all of us were disturbed at the prospect. It should be no surprise to you that I considered it a typical act of recalcitrance and cowardice on his part.”

“Well, perhaps we should not have to face such a situation again.”

Proceed cautiously, Jameson told himself. This man is no ally. “No, of course not. I trust we won’t have to, now that the vote has been taken.”

“It is sure, however, that the situation will get worse, not better. How can we be sure Boddy will not decide again to abort the mission? He may not be so friendly to a vote later on.”

Jameson pretended to think this over. “Hmmmm...you have a point. But what can be done?”

Reichmann looked at the floor. “This mission is greatly important to me—und to all of us. I do not want it to be jeopardized. Let us say I am hoping that you and Garr have a plan to deal with any new developments.”

Are we dancing around each other, each waiting for the other to say it aloud? “Garr and I have few things in common, but believe me, neither of us cares to chance any of Boddy’s further incompetence. We’ll deal with the situation.”

“In that case, I hope you will count on my help.”

Jameson wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was astonished, but stopped short of being pleased. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason he wasn’t thrilled to have Reichmann on his side. Perhaps he was simply uneasy that his plot had been so quickly and easily discovered; introspection wasn’t his strong point. One thing he was sure of was his distrust for Reichmann. “Well, I thank you for that...if anything develops, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.” An awkward moment as they stood, nodding at each other, neither sure what to say, then Reichmann half-waved and scooted off to whatever activities filled his day.

Jameson continued on his way, shaking his head. “This ship’s coming apart around us,” he muttered. He was frustrated—for a scientist, he hadn’t been doing much science recently, and this was the prime time for it. The past few days had been too full of the human interaction he disdained; as the ship accelerated beyond the visible light of the universe, he should be constantly monitoring the electromagnetic spectrum, the gravitational waves distributed through the rotating ship, the effects of the increased kinetic energy on their brains, and any signs of feedback from the future. Those hallucinations that had so shattered his orderly view of the universe had become exhilarating now that he knew what they were, and he longed for another one.

Boddy sat alone in the lounge over a piping hot dinner of ravioli with Caesar salad. All day, he had felt a lightening of his spirits; the ship seemed normal. There were no more hallucinations, although emotions still seemed magnified. Perhaps the ship would ride this out after all. He had initially been unhappy at the vote against aborting the mission, but on further reflection he wondered if he had been overly cautious. He wasn’t prone to panic; no astronaut was. But as mission commander, his overriding concern was the safety of the ship and its crew. Since the majority had voted to continue the mission, he had to admit they were probably right. They were willing to take the risk; for that very reason, it was a risk worth taking. At any rate, despite the shocking fact of an attempted mutiny, he felt that they were a crew again, working in harmony.

“Hey, Ed,” Samuels said as he entered the lounge. “You alone here?”

“Yeah, everyone else ate already. I decided to hold off and not join them; I figure things are still a little raw. Might want to wait a few days to let emotions cool off before I start socializing with the men again.”

Samuels shrugged. He opened a cooler and pulled out a plastic container of roast beef and angel hair in olive oil. He put the container in the oven, pressed “start,” and a moment later the container popped out, open and steaming. Samuels carefully picked it up by the rubber insulated handles and brought it to Boddy’s table. “I don’t want to sound like a pessimist, but I don’t know if things are going to be cooling off for the next few days.”

“Why?”

“I told you things were going to get worse, and they are. Don’t be fooled by the quiet spell we’re going through. This is sort of the eye of the hurricane. Our own awareness of what’s going on has as much kinetic energy as our other thoughts, so in a way it’s canceling out the hallucinations. But at the same time, the degree of feedback from the future is continuing to increase. So whatever thoughts made real we may have in the next few days could start to have an impact on us now, and even on events that have already occurred. That might be why two crew members have ceased to exist. By tomorrow our very reality might not even be recognizable.”

Boddy suddenly found he’d lost his appetite. He pushed his tray away. “That’s not really the news I wanted to hear.”

“Sorry.”

“Still, everything seems normal right now. Why aren’t we seeing effects from the future?”

“Well, really, we’re not sure that we’re not. But I agree, things seem normal right now. Like I said, it’s like the eye of a hurricane. We’ve passed through the first concatenation of rain bands and entered the calm area, the center of circulation. And that might not be a bad analogy; the ship’s rotation, the time dilation, the contraction of the visible universe, the increase in our mass, our forward motion through space and time, could amount to a sort of a vortex in spacetime, a vortex that involves multiple higher dimensions. That gets a little involved, but Jameson’s working the math out—at least he’s supposed to be.”

“What do you mean he’s supposed to be?”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Jameson wasn’t in the lab for most of the afternoon, and I don’t know why.”

“Well, so what? He’s the chief scientist, he’s not accountable to you, and you know how uncommunicative he is.”

“Yeah, but I need hardly remind you he was the ringleader in that little, uh, mutiny? Remember that?”

“What are you getting at? Is he still at it?”

Samuels was chewing now, so he merely shrugged.

“Look, under ordinary circumstances, any crew member who’d pulled what he pulled would be in the brig,” Boddy said, “but this is a spaceship, not a naval vessel. We don’t have a brig, and every member of the crew serves a vital function. I can’t be paranoid every waking minute that Jameson is plotting a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’d better be,” Samuels said. “I know him better than you do, which admittedly, is hardly at all. But he did not take Felter’s refusal very well, and he’s been simmering ever since. I’ve just got a funny feeling he’s up to something.”

“Well, I trust your funny feelings. By the way, got any leads on why Felter refused?”

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s been so crazy lately, I haven’t had a chance to bring my detective skills to bear.”

“Well, do that as soon as you can—and by the way, if Jameson does try another mutiny, who the hell’s side are you going to be on?”

Samuels was chewing again, but managed to look sheepish. He swallowed, took a swig of his milk, and said, “Look, I just want what’s best for the mission, and personally, as far as I’m concerned, that’s you in command. But I have to say what I said before—if the majority of the crew want you out, I feel I need to go along with that—just like you and I are going along with the decision not to abort the mission, which you’ll recall I was in favor of.”

Boddy nodded. “Yeah. I guess I see where you’re coming from. But Jesus, man, if I can’t count on you—and I can count on Felter...well, this whole universe is screwed up.”

“You can count on me, ol’ buddy. I’m trying to level with you. One thing I’m not gonna do is lie to you or plot behind your back, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” Boddy waved the comment aside. “I hear you.”

They ate in silence for several minutes before the door opened. Boddy looked up and saw Reichmann.

“Come on in, Reichmann,” he said. “You need anything?”

“To talk to you,” Reichmann said. “You were not at dinner and I did not want to disturb you in your quarters.”

“It’s all right. My door is always open. Come on, have a seat.”

Reichmann sat between Samuels and Boddy. He glanced back and forth between them nervously. “What have you been talking about?”

“Things,” Boddy said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“The future of our mission.”

“We’re going on, aren’t we?” Samuels said. “In spite of everything, we’re not aborting.”

“No, we are not, and I thank you for honoring the vote.”

“What’s the matter?” Boddy asked. “Are you afraid I’ll back out when the going gets tough?”

Reichmann’s silence was an answer.

“Well, don’t worry. We’re not aborting. That decision is behind us. We forge ahead no matter what lies in wait for us.”

“No matter what.”

“You worried about the relativistic effects we still haven’t anticipated?” Samuels asked.

Reichmann’s eyes widened. “Worried? Nein, nein! Exhilarated! I cannot wait to see what the universe has to reveal to us!”

“Well, you’re obviously worried about something,” Boddy said. “What is it?”

“I feel you should know something. About Garr and Jameson.”

“Our favorite mutineers,” Samuels said. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Reichmann nodded.

“They’re at it again?” Boddy asked.

“I am quite certain of it. I approached Jameson because I vas concerned you would abort the mission, and coaxed something of a confirmation from him.”

“You were concerned I would abort the mis-sion—you mean you would have been in on it had I not assured you the abort is off the table?”

Reichmann shrugged. “What can I say to you? No one knows who to trust anymore. This crew is not a crew anymore.”

Only half an hour ago I thought we were. “So then whose side are you on now?”

“I am on the side of the mission. I want the mission to go on. I would rather it go on with a cohesive crew, but whatever the case, we are on on the verge of the singularity, the climax of our mission. If we can only get that far, I will be content, and then it will not matter who is in charge.”

“That much is true at least,” Samuels said.

“What are Jameson and Garr planning?” Boddy asked.

“I do not know,” Reichmann said.

“Want me to get on that too?” Samuels asked.

“No, I’d say you have a bit of a conflict of interest. All I want from you is to get the goods on Felter. Reichmann, thanks for the information. My guess is our universe will come apart around us before Jameson and Garr can try anything.”

But Boddy was far less convinced than he sounded. He finished eating with Samuels, and they spent the remainder of the time reminiscing on old times at NASA. Then Boddy apologized, said he wasn’t feeling well and was going to retire, then proceeded to Reichmann’s quarters. Reichmann didn’t answer when Boddy buzzed, even when he identified himself, so he assumed he wasn’t there. So he tried the navigation center. He tapped on the partially open door and pushed it open. Reichmann was there, hunched over a computer display of red and yellow wavy lines running across a table of numbers that meant nothing to Boddy.

Boddy pulled the door shut behind him. “Reichmann? You in here alone?”

“As far as I know,” Reichmann said.

“I didn’t want to talk in front of Samuels, because frankly I don’t know that he’s not in on the mutiny.”

“That surprises me,” Reichmann said. “I thought you were the best of friends.”

“Yeah...I want to believe that, but I just don’t know anymore.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to Reichmann in order to talk in a quiet tone of voice. “I’m going to take a chance that I can trust you. You refused to participate in their first attempt to take over, and now your concern seems mainly for the mission.”

“That is true. I have no interest in these petty interpersonal squabbles.”

“Yeah...and I feel bad that you’re caught up in the middle of them. But you’ve already gotten Jameson to trust you—if only a little bit.”

“I do not know if I would say that. He was very reluctant to speak to me.”

“I’m sure he was—but he’s reluctant to speak to anyone. The point is, you’ve already made noises about not trusting me, about suspecting that I might back out and abort the mission despite everyone’s wishes.”

Reichmann said nothing, simply nodded as Boddy spoke.

“Can you keep that up? Play it up, make out as though you are so disgusted by my plan to abort, so upset that I might turn around and stab you in the back, you’ve totally lost confidence in me and you want to just get me out of here so bad. Can you do that? You posture enough—I mean, don’t go over the top, but keep talking like that, and maybe Jameson and Garr will let you into their loop. You can find out what they’re planning.”

“I can do that,” Reichmann said. “I do not relish being put into the middle of this.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I just don’t know who to depend on anymore. You’re the only one that I can really be certain is thinking solely of the good of the mission. The very fact that you don’t want to be involved is why you’re the man for this job.”

“I can see the logic behind that, but I would not count on them letting me in on their plan—if they even have one.”

“I know, and we’re still probably going to be facing a complete breakdown of the laws of physics before this even becomes an issue.”

Reichmann smiled. “Ja, I rather hope so!”

Boddy patted him on the back. “Thanks, and thanks for the warning.”

As he left the navigation center, he hoped his faith wasn’t misplaced. He was basically asking a man of science, a man who deplored war and man’s aggressive instincts toward other men, to be a spy. The very fact that a spy was necessary now showed him just how wrong he had been to assume life was going back to normal. Samuels had been right about one thing—this was the eye of a hurricane, and he feared they were fast approaching the far eyewall.

The many pipes and vents and exhaust outlets reinforced to Reichmann his comparison of his current assignment to a descent to hell. Perhaps it was a bit theatrical to think of Garr as evil, but whatever his underlying motives and personal hang-ups, Garr could certainly come across that way. The lone mutineer, working alone amid his machinery, which itself seemed an extension of his body, reminded Reichmann of Faust—though he was also aware there were some who would compare him to Faust, especially under the current circumstances.

He knew Garr would not be particularly friendly to anyone interrupting him in the middle of his work, so he instead sidled up to Lawrence Acker, who was just finishing repairs on the circulator. “Hello, Mr. Acker.”

“Hi,” Acker said in a none-too-friendly tone.

Refusing to be put off, Reichmann decided to butter Acker up with a compliment. “This is very fine work you have done here.”

“What do you know about it?” Acker whined, jamming the circulator in place.

“Well, I certainly know that you have had no support from that pathetic commander of ours.”

“You got that right,” Acker said. Reichmann knew he had said the right thing. Acker slid out from under the mazework of ducts and pipes and wires and shafts that comprised the circulator, began drying off his oily hands on a cloth that was black with grease. “That guy doesn’t have the nerve to command this ship. I don’t know what Felter was thinking when he refused to take command.”

Reichmann nodded. “I know what you mean. We are certainly in a difficult position now—we are so close to finding the great answers to all the mysteries of the cosmos. To call it off now would be unforgivable.” Reichmann spoke from the heart—he knew the best way to lie was to tell as much truth as possible. And, in fact, he really honestly wasn’t sure that Boddy was the best commander; but he knew where his loyalty lay, especially after Boddy’s promise.

“Well, that’s not an issue anymore,” Acker said. “We’re not turning back. And anyway, Boddy will soon be taken care of.”

Reichmann tried not to overplay his interest. He simply nodded and said, “Ja, I hope so.”

Acker appeared to realize he had said too much. He turned and headed toward Garr’s office. “Well, I’d better let Garr know the circulator’s fixed. See ya later.”

Reichmann wondered if he should follow, show more interest, coax more information from Acker with well-placed flattery—but unfortunately, he was neither a great reader of men’s character nor a great player. Boddy had chosen the wrong man to play the subtle machinations of politics. Knowing that Acker craved attention and friendship, Reichmann decided to pursue him. “Wait, Acker, wait, I must ask you.”

“What?”

“You know so much more than I do about what goes on.”

The flattery stopped Acker. “Well, yeah, maybe...what can I help you with?”

Reichmann stammered, honestly looking for the right words. “I just want to know—what can be done about Boddy? I mean, I feel I have made a grave mistake by not supporting you when you tried to take your concerns to Felter. Perhaps one more voice could have made the difference. I think perhaps Jameson and Garr have a plan, but I am being frozen out. Perhaps you will let me help.”

Acker was turning red. “I don’t know anything.”

Reichmann knew he had made a mistake then. He had said too much. He wondered how to cover for himself. He might have just lost whatever in-road he might have had. “I am sorry. I speak out of anger. Boddy enraged me so much when he wanted to turn around. I supported him und he stabbed me in the back. I am so out of place now, so uncertain what is going to happen. I only wish there was something I could do.”

Acker merely shrugged, obviously uncomfortable and wanting to get away.

Reichmann decided it was time to let Acker—and himself—off the hook. “Well, I would like to talk to Garr.”

“Okay.”

Reichmann followed Acker into Garr’s office. Garr was absorbed in tinkering with two small devices—Reichmann recognized one of them as an external drive for a quantum computer. The other he wasn’t sure off, but as soon as Garr looked up and saw Reichmann, he threw the devices down and clumsily tried to throw a cloth over them. It missed, landing in a clump next to them. “What the hell do you want, Reichmann?”

“Just wanted to talk to you for a moment.”

“The circulator is fixed,” Acker said. “Ready for the test anytime.”

“Just put it in operation,” Garr said. “If there are any problems, the damn red light’ll come on.”

“Okay.” Looking chagrined, Acker squeezed past Reichmann.

Garr stared at him. “Well?”

“I did not mean to interrupt,” Reichmann said, hoping to gauge his comments more carefully. “It is just that I know you are as angry and disappointed with Commander Boddy as I am.”

“As you are?” Garr laughed without humor. “The way I remember it, you turned your back on us when we wanted to do something about our glorious leader.”

Reichmann nodded. “Yes, and I regret that now. I had no idea—Surely you must know how much this mission means to me. I have worked for it my whole life, and now it is being threatened.”

“You bet your ass it is.” Garr picked up his two pieces of equipment and, trying to act nonchalant, placed them carefully in a drawer. “Not that it matters now. Felter made himself clear, and at least Boddy isn’t aborting the mission.”

“No...not yet.”

Garr sneered. “What, you know something I don’t?”

“No, but I vas rather hoping that you knew something that I don’t. Jameson intimated to me that there might be a way to get rid of Boddy without Felter’s help.”

Garr said nothing. He turned his back to Reichmann and called up a schematic of the ship’s engines on his softscreen.

“If there is such a plan, I would like to help.”

“If there were such a plan,” Garr said, “and that’s not meant as a confirmation, but if there were, then for damn sure there’s nothing you could do to help. Matter of fact, I’m not sure what the hell your position is on this damn ship.”

Reichmann didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t argue the point. He wasn’t a pilot, he wasn’t a professional astronaut, he wasn’t an engineer, and his numerous scientific doctorates did not qualify him for the kind of work done on this mission. He was here because he wanted to be. Because it was his project and because Earth didn’t really need him. Apparently, neither did the Eldorado. The only person who really needed him was Boddy.

He turned to leave.

“Wait a minute,” Garr said.

Reichmann turned, staring at the floor.

“We could use all the allies we can get—or rather, I could. Jameson wants to take over as commander once Boddy’s out of the way. But the means of Boddy’s execution are mine, and I intend to take command myself. If you agree to support me as commander, then I’ll bring you into the plot.”

Reichmann shrugged. “It is not really of any importance to me who is in command, as long as he does not abort the mission. I will support you.”

“Good.” From the drawer, Garr withdrew his mated devices. “This is a little gadget that Acker and I have been working on. Not easy to put a contraption like this together when half the stuff that’s really needed isn’t on the ship. Lot of improvisation, and to be honest, I’m not sure it’ll work. But once finished, if it works as designed, it’ll release an army of nanobots into the air. Won’t affect any of the rest of us, they’ll home right in on Boddy’s DNA.”

Reichmann shivered. He tried not to show his disgust. Once he found his voice, he said as calmly and clinically as he could manage, “Those were banned after the Nanotech War.”

“I know that! That’s on Earth! None of that applies out here. The damn rulebook was written for clods who hug that little planet in that little island of time. Hell, who knows if the human race and all its governments and bureaucracies and rulebooks even exist anymore? We’re gods by comparison to them! We write the rules now.”

Without the rule of law, we cease to be human. “That is a good point.”

“Course it is. Now, you on board with this?”

“Of course.”

Garr smiled. “Don’t get any ideas of telling Boddy about this. If I can manufacture a nanovirus that can take care of him, I can just as easily manufacture one to use against you.”

He might have expected such a theatrical threat. He told himself not to be intimidated, but he was not used to being threatened—especially by someone capable of following through on such a threat. “I must ask, what is to stop Jameson from building such a device too?”

Garr dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand. “I’ll know about it if he tries. I’ve got Acker keeping track of every device on the ship.”

And he knew Acker would slavishly follow such a plan, all in the name of being useful. “All right, I will support you. I certainly feel better now. I believe the ship will be in much better shape with you in command.”

“Bet your ass. Now scram. I’ve got lots of work to do.”

To say the least. Reichmann obeyed the gruff engineer. Just in case Garr was able to follow him with security cameras or, less imaginatively, by having Acker discretely follow him, he decided to go to his own quarters rather than risk seeing Boddy right away.

In a way, he did feel better. In all probability, Garr’s plan would not work. Such a device required the combined efforts of teams of nanotech specialists —of which Garr was not one—and a fairly substantial budget. The Eldorado contained many interesting and what many would consider unexpected devices, but the equipment necessary to build a biological nanotech weapon was not among them. Yes, it was possible in theory, given that quantum computers used a variety of nanotech, and a clever enough engineer could perhaps adapt it into a biological weapon, but the ability to do so required an intellect far greater than Garr’s.

But he still must not dismiss the possibility out of hand. Garr was not a stupid man, and not likely to embark upon a project without reason to believe he could accomplish it. One thing was certain: whether Garr was successful or not, he had proven himself a dangerous man, willing to commit murder. There was plenty of time to warn Boddy, but once he did, clearly Garr must not be permitted to remain the chief engineer.

It wasn’t until the following morning that Reichmann decided he could risk reporting to Boddy. And even then, he kept furtively glancing over his shoulder to see if Garr or Acker were following him. His fear of hidden security cameras was less compelling; surely someone would have seen Garr or Acker installing such things. Security cameras were simply not considered necessary on board a science ship with seven—er, nine—or was it twelve?—men on board, hurtling into deep space at relativistic velocity.

Still, he wondered if it would look strange that he was visiting Boddy in his quarters rather than in the control center. But there was no choice; obviously they couldn’t talk about the mutiny in the open where anyone could hear.

He knocked on Boddy’s door.

“Come on in,” called the muffled voice.

He pushed the door open, saw Boddy sitting across from his desk from Felter. “Commander ...” he hesitated, wondered how to approach Felter’s unexpected presence. “Erm...you asked to see me?”

“Yes, you’re right on time,” Boddy said, catching on. “If that’s all you wanted, Felter, I’d like to talk to Reichmann alone.”

“Fine by me,” Felter said. “I can finish these up myself no problem. Just wanted to get your input, since I value your opinion.”

Once Felter was gone, Reichmann was careful to seal the door.

“Did you learn their plans, Reichmann?” Boddy asked.

“I learned a great deal,” Reichmann said. He recapped his conversation with Garr, including his own private fears of being watched.

Boddy showed little reaction. That was not surprising; he never did. Nor did anyone else on board the Eldorado. This was not a particularly expressive crew. “And Jameson isn’t involved?”

“I think Jameson knows about it,” Reichmann said. “But it is pretty clear that Garr does not want to let anyone in on his plan. He was most reluctant to tell me about it.”

Boddy nodded. “Probably the only reason he did is because he knows you’re not much of a man of action—no offense. It’s just that Jameson is his rival. No wonder he doesn’t want to tell him.”

“The last conspiracy did not go so well.”

“Yeah...Well, since Felter knows you were in here, let’s just cover our butts and say that I wanted to talk to you about our navigation without visible referents.”

“Thank you. Speaking of which, with your permission, I will go to the navigation room.”

Boddy nodded and returned to his desk.

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