I kept painting. I alternated between a tower scene on a large matrix, an oil rendering of Liam in motion just before he struck the first steward, and another mixed-media portrait of Lieutenant Braun. It was the least I could do.
“They’re all good.”
I almost dropped the light-wand. I turned.
“You make me see Liam Fitzhugh in a way I never saw him,” said Elysen. “He’s the kind of man who does what he must.”
“I didn’t see it, either, until he acted.”
She settled into the good chair in my work space. “They picked well when they chose you, Chendor. You live what you paint. Good artists do.”
“I don’t know about that. I feel some of it. A little, anyway.” I leaned against the side of the console. I didn’t like to talk about painting. “How do you feel? About the attack in the mess yesterday, I mean?”
“I was more astonished than frightened, I think. At my age, death doesn’t offer so great a threat.” She laughed. “Not that I’m in the slightest ready to give up or die. It’s just not a threat, but an inevitability.”
“How is your work coming?”
“We’re hopeful.”
“Can I ask about what?”
“I don’t want to say too much, because the results are preliminary, and we’re still comparing baselines. That’s tedious, because even the ship’s systems are limited.”
“Baselines?”
“We have observations from five radically different points. That means parallax and temporal adjustments, because each different observation point represents not only a different location but a different time period. That is, the light we’ve observed comes from a different point in time.”
“You didn’t answer the first question,” I said. “What are you trying to find out?”
“What everyone else is seeking in their own fields—the origin of Danann and Chronos. It’s a long process for all of us. Cleon Lazar and the physical scientists are convinced that the alien anomalous composites were designed to do more than they have discovered so far. Yet they have not been able to discover even the theoretical basis for the subatomic mechanisms that make them operate as they do. They’ve attempted all manner of tests and experiments, but as of the other day, they had h’ttle success.”
“That was a polite avoidance of what you’re working on,” I pointed out. “Have your astronomical observations shed any light—” I avoided wincing at the inadvertent pun—”on Danann and Chronos.”
“I said that it was premature—”
“Have you?”
“We don’t know yet. The observations we’ve processed and analyzed to date suggest we have an unprecedented astrophysical occurrence. We’re beginning to think that the Danannians were possibly a true Type HI civilization.”
“You need all those observations to say that? From what you and Commander Morgan have already said, the existence and speeds of Danann and Chronos already proved that.”
“The cause of their existence might be something even more unprecedented.”
“Their existence is unprecedented enough. It’s clear that these aliens had technology that we can’t match, and may not match for years—even with what we’ve found here. So they sent two planets hurtling across the universe on exactly opposite courses. If we wanted to throw enough energy at a pair of planets, couldn’t we do it?”
“Possibly. It might bankrupt all of humanity. What we’re pursuing is far more elegant.”
“Elegant? Even higher technology? Or are we talking about the hand of God?”
Elysen laughed again, warmly, then smiled. “Let’s just say that it’s a bit more controversial than thai.”
“More controversial than the hand of God?”
“Chendor…” The smile vanished. “We really do need absolute certainty, or as close as we can get, before we announce even a hypothesis. I promised the others I wouldn’t say anything. Please don’t press me.”
“It’s that momentous?”
The trace of a smile appeared, and it was a sad smile, the kind that, had I captured it upon a canvas, would have made a masterpiece. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I, if we’re right. It will change everything.” She stood and looked at the portrait of Lieutenant Braun. “Beautiful, and such a waste.”
Then, she was gone.
After Elysen left, I realized that I really wanted to get back down to Danann. There was something else down there. It wasn’t something missing, but something not found. I didn’t know that I could find it, but I wanted another chance.
I supposed everyone did.
50
Fitzhugh
Blackness, and white-hot stilettos slicing into my body—those were what I sensed after the steward’s weapon. Then came the needles, infinite points of pain, all with the same receptor locus—those were my first thoughts… when I could finally attain some semblance of cogitation muddled and inchoate as my self-awareness first was.
In time, subjective eons, the worst of the agony subsided, and I could discern that I was encased in a med-crib. When I saw a hazy figure standing above the crib, I attempted to talk, but discovered that I was immobilized, either physically or physiologically, and the figure perambulated out of my restricted range of vision.
When they finally removed the upper part of the crib, more eons having passed, a major looked down at me. “Don’t try to talk yet, Dr. Fitzhugh. There were some spasms in your throat, and we restricted things there. You’re going to be fine, but it will be a little while before the effect on your voice wears off. You’ve been in the crib almost four days, but you should be out of here in just a day or two.” From his tone and insignia, he was a doctor.
What had happened in the mess? How could I ask? Was Lieutenant Chang unharmed? What about the captain?
The doctor smiled. “You’re somewhat of a hero. I’ve let Commander Morgan know that you’re awake, and he’ll be down here shortly. The captain was here earlier.”
I managed a slight nod. Even that sent paroxysms of beloid agony through my neck and throat.
“Shortly” was most definitely a generic and personal relevant term, because several long hours went by, their passage eased not in the slightest by the holodrama displayed above me, entertainment, if it could be termed such, clearly selected for plebeian tastes, before the commander peered over the edge of the medcrib.
Commander Morgan’s face bore a touch of gray, but the dark half orbs under his eyes suggested exhaustion more man age-induced physiological debilitation. “Dr. Fitzhugh, I understand that you can hear, but not speak.”
I nodded, tentatively and slightly.
“Good.” A sardonic smile appeared. “At least, I won’t have to explain in endless detail, not until you recover your voice. The stewards killed six people, but you kept the number from being much higher and saved some lives. How many I don’t know, but one was the captain’s, and she is most grateful. So am I. For better or worse, the casualties were all ship’s officers…”
How many of them had been pilots? They’d been the closest to the assassins, besides those at the captain’s table.
“… I am curious, however. I’ve never seen a history professor who moved like a commando. Were you in a service commando group at some point?”
I nodded, although I’d tried for years to minimize that aspect of my preacademic career. I was just as glad that I wasn’t in a position where I was expected to elucidate upon the details.
“I’d imagine that you only stayed in long enough to get basic educational benefits.”