His fingers still itching to correct the damage that Dr. Wo had deliberately inflicted, Grant watched passively as the crew simulated their return and remating to the station’s docking module. It was all done with smooth efficiency. They hardly had to touch a keypad or a switch. It’s only a simulation, Grant reminded himself, but he still found that he was soaked in perspiration by the time Krebs announced their successful redocking.
“Very well,” Wo said into his microphone. “Take a break. But do not leave the simulator. Next we will see what you do when you have an emergency after you have entered the clouds.”
All of the crew members groaned. All except Krebs, Grant noticed. She actually smiled.
He turned to Frankovich, crammed in at the next console with barely enough room for his legs.
“Captain Krebs is enjoying herself,” Frankovich said. Then, leaning closer to Grant, he whispered, “But Dr. Wo takes this all very seriously.”
Grant glanced over at Wo. The director’s face looked grim, baleful. With an inward nod, Grant said to himself, Yes, Dr. Wo takes all this very seriously indeed.
BREAKDOWN
Bone weary from the long day’s simulator runs, Grant picked up his dinner in the conference room, stopped by the cafeteria for a bowl of fruits for Sheena, then trudged alone down to the aquarium with two sets of neural nets stuffed into his trouser pockets.
He passed the rows of fish tanks, their underwater lights glimmering against the solid bulkhead on his left. The dolphins were swimming lazily in their big tank, sleek and silent. Grant stopped for a moment at the tank that held the simulator. It was empty now. Technicians would start dismantling the hardware after the ship actually left on its mission. Grant wondered if they would store it in anticipation of future missions. Most likely so, he guessed.
He felt slightly uneasy that Sheena was not out in the corridor to meet him. Usually she was prowling along the fish tanks, waiting for him with the eagerness of a two-year-old child. On the other hand, it gave him the opportunity to power up the monitoring console in the corridor outside her pen. Grant saw that it was working properly and receiving a steady flat signal from the net in his left pocket. The one in his right was deactivated, a dummy whose only purpose was to deceive Sheena into thinking that he was wearing the same “hat” that she was.
When he came to Sheena’s pen he saw that the gorilla was sitting on her haunches, bent over a large wooden jigsaw puzzle. She had filled in eight of the ten big pieces.
She looked up as Grant stepped in.
“Food!” she said in her rasping voice, and scrambled up onto all fours. Grant knew she couldn’t smile, but he thought she was glad to see him—and the bowl he had brought for her.
“Fruit,” he said, placing the tray on the floor.
“Fruit,” echoed Sheena. “And Grant food.”
He nodded. “I’ve got a soyburger and salad and ice cream for dessert.”
Sheena picked up the bowl of fruit but stared hard at the ice cream. Then she looked up at Grant. “Grant ice cream?”
“Would you like some ice cream, Sheena?”
“Yes,” came the immediate answer.
“Okay.” Grant handed the small dish to her. Tucking the fruit bowl under one arm, Sheena grabbed for the ice cream with her free hand.
Grant laughed at her unabashed greed. “Save some ice cream for me.”
“Yes,” Sheena replied. But within less than a minute the ice cream was gone, except for a few smears around her muzzle. Then she started in on the fruit.
Grant wolfed down his burger, surprised at how hungry he suddenly felt. He offered Sheena a few leaves of his salad, but she sniffed at the dressing and refused them.
Once the fruit was gone Sheena asked, “Grant bring hat?”
He pulled the neural nets from his pockets. “Here they are, Sheena. One for you and one for me.”
She leaned toward him and allowed him to place the net over her head and tie it under her chin. Then he did the same for his own.
“Let’s finish the puzzle,” Grant said, once he had both nets in place.
“Grant do.”
“No, no, Sheena. You’ve put most of the pieces together. There are only two left. You do them.”
“Grant do first.”
He nodded understanding. “You want me to do one piece?”
Sheena said, “Yes.” And brought one big hand up to her skull.
“No, no!” Grant blurted. “Don’t rub your head! You’ll mess up your hat.”
“Hurts,” Sheena said.
Grant forced a smile for her. “No, it doesn’t hurt, Sheena. My hat doesn’t hurt. Your hat doesn’t hurt.”
She had knocked the net slightly askew. Grant got to his knees and straightened it out for her.
“Hurts,” Sheena repeated.
“It can’t hurt you,” Grant said. “Here, let’s finish the puzzle.”
He picked up one of the two remaining pieces and put it in place. Sheena stared at the puzzle for a moment, then reached for the last piece.
Suddenly she flung it away. “Hurts!” she growled, and reached up to yank at the neural net.
Grant saw a tendril of smoke rising from one of the electrodes. My God, it’s burning her!
Sheena ripped the net off her head and smashed it to the floor. She roared with pain and lurched up onto her hind legs.
She’s going to kill me! Grant thought.
The gorilla balled one mighty fist and smashed it against the steel wall of her pen. The metal buckled.
Grant scrambled to his feet. Sheena towered over him, immense, fangs bared.
“Grant hurt Sheena!” she rasped.
“No, I didn’t mean to—”
“Grant no friend!”
He started to back away from her, toward the entrance to her pen. There was an emergency control outside that could slide a thickly barred gate across the entry.
Sheena dropped down to all fours, and Grant could see a burned spot on her skull. She glowered at him as he backed away. Don’t turn your back to her! Grant remembered. Gorillas seldom attack a man who’s facing them. Seldom echoed in Grant’s mind.
It all seemed to be happening in slow motion, as if in a nightmare. Grant edged toward the pen’s entrance, Sheena growled and glared at him, then took a knuckle-walking step toward him.
Grant bolted through the doorway and banged the emergency gate control. The bars slid swiftly across the entrance and clanged shut. Sheena grasped one of the bars in a big, hairy hand. Grant thought she could have bent it if she’d wanted to.
“I’m sorry, Sheena,” he babbled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. One of the electrodes must’ve been defective. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Grant no friend,” the gorilla rasped again. Then she turned her back to him and shambled to the far corner of her pen.
Grant stood there, heartbroken. You’re right, he admitted silently to the gorilla. I’m not your friend. I never was, even though I wanted to be.
IMMERSION
The following night the departing crew held a glum little farewell party for themselves in O’Hara’s quarters. Lane herself invited Grant to attend. Still miserable about Sheena, and afraid to get near the gorilla again, Grant accepted.
He was the last one to arrive. O’Hara’s room was in its planetarium mode again as she admitted him and then slid the door shut behind him. Even the floor was speckled with stars. For a dizzying moment Grant felt as if the others were sitting in empty space, floating in the middle of the universe. The faint, ethereal music of a single keyboard floated through the shadows.