Chapter 9
The first floor of the spaceport was used primarily for passenger coordination. The second floor consisted of a cafeteria and small shops ranging from holocube movie rentals to clothing stores. The cafeteria offered a beautiful view of the desert mountains with their red horizontal streaks contrasting against the dark brown rock making up the rest of the mountain, which was further contrasted against the aqua blue sky.
Although Corbin III was a desert world like Mars, Chris saw them as being quite different. The most obvious difference was the Martian deserts were red and Corbin III’s were blue. This planet still had some native life existing on it and Mars had been completely dead prior to the arrival of humans. And then, there were the two blue suns. Chris preferred Mars.
The dark metallic figure known as Homer had already found a quiet table for the two of them, while Chris stood at the cafeteria computer trying to find something edible on the menu.
Cafeteria computers were notorious for their limited selection of food types, spices, and recipes. Chris normally ordered veggie dogs with catsup, mustard, and Alterian spice seeds, which was pretty hard to screw up. This menu offered a selection of standard Terran dishes plus some foods based on native life forms. He chose the grilled squirrel.
After ordering and collecting his meal, he sat down and sampled it. Not bad, he thought. A few more spices and a little less salt and this could be really good.
“What have you been doing, Homer?”
“I have been observing the people in the mining colony, as you suggested.”
“What did you see?” Chris asked.
“The work seemed remarkably slow and inefficient. People were not focused on their work and were easily distracted. Some would simply stop working for no apparent reason. Occasionally, at the end of one of these breaks, someone would speak of one of the dead security guards. It would seem the dead guards were held in high esteem.”
“The people here have been wounded, Homer. Emotionally wounded. They’re experiencing a flood of emotions over the loss of their friends and being overwhelmed by them. What they’re experiencing is called grief. This isn’t unusual behavior for humans after the loss of someone close. It’ll take a while for them to heal, eighteen to twenty-four months on average. They’ll have to process their emotions.”
“I have read about grief. I do not understand why humans choose to experience it. It seems to serve no useful purpose.”
Chris noticed the bones on his plate looked like the ones at Apela’s campsite. “Grieving is a very complex process, Homer. It includes a variety of emotions. Feelings of anger, guilt, depression. I don’t know how useful it is, but since almost all humans experience it, I’d have to say it’s included in our genetic coding. We’re designed to grieve over the loss of someone close to us. If it’s encoded in our genetics, I have to believe it serves a useful purpose.”
“From what I have read,” said Homer, “the human immune system is weakened and the person becomes emotionally unstable.”
“The emotionally unstable part strikes a chord. I’m not an expert on grieving, but I did go thru the process after my mother died. Yes, I was emotionally unstable. I had a hard time staying focused on the present. Memories of her kept surfacing. I didn’t want to believe she was gone. I had always thought of her as permanent. My world had become unstable and I had to rebuild it without her. Perhaps this the essence of grieving. A rebuilding of the model we use to explain the world.”
“Using the analogy of a model has helped my understanding. I shall attempt to use this in my understanding of emotions.”
“It might work. I’m not sure you and I are using the same definition of a model. I remember reading about a psychology model based on a computer programs and subprograms. Maybe it’s in the Corbin III library somewhere. But don’t get caught in the trap of accepting the analogy to be the same as reality. You may find similarities, but there may also be subtle differences.”“Do you believe emotions are tools humans have developed for survival?”
“Definitely!” Chris answered.
“The humans in this colony are experiencing a breakdown in their structuring of reality,” said Homer. “With this breakdown, do you think they are relying more on emotional responses because they no longer trust their intellectual abilities?”
“It sounds like a reasonable theory, but I think it goes deeper. I’m not sure the strength of the emotions is given enough credit. I don’t see emotions as being completely separate from the intellectual thinking process. I see them as being intertwined and working together. The structure of their reality is based on both emotional and intellectual processes. I believe your idea of “no longer trusting” is correct. However, it’s their view of reality they no longer trust.
“The concept of human emotions and intellect being intertwined suggests the possibility they cannot be easily separated. This would provide an explanation for many of the irrational behaviors.”
Chris laughed.
“You find my conclusion humorous?” Homer asked.
“I sometimes laugh when I’m surprised by the truth, Homer. You have just shown me a different, yet valid, perspective of the truth.”
“When we first arrived, I observed your speaking patterns changed as you spoke with Henry Lee. Your responses seemed to mimic his statements. It is not a communication style I am familiar with. Can you explain it to me?” Homer asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, that. It’s called empathic listening. When someone isn’t able to think clearly because their emotions are overwhelming them, you can use the technique to help them process their emotions. With empathic listening you reflect back what the person is saying by repeating what they’ve said, but using different words. This shows you understand what they’re saying.”
“It is not a very efficient mode of communication.”
“It’s a way of communicating on an emotional level. Think of it as a way to help repair another person so they can communicate and function more clearly.
“Is this form of counseling popular among humans?”
“Kind of. It depends on the psychological problems involved. Empathic listening is a shallow form of counseling useful for people who aren’t professional psychotherapists. People like me. It’s hard to accidentally damage someone using empathic listening and is useful on people who are basically psychologically healthy, but for some reason have become overwhelmed by their emotions.”
“Humans are very complicated,” Homer said emphatically.
Chris had just finished his meal, when an older woman he didn’t recognize approached them. Looking at her he said, “Hello, can I help you?”
The woman looked as though she had been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. Chris wasn’t sure what she wanted to discuss, but he felt a dread certainty it would be emotional. Chris was terrible in dealing with matters where women cried. He had little practice and tried to avoid dealing with a woman’s tears unless she was someone he was close to.
“You’re the man in charge of tracking down Martha Apela, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice sounding hoarse.
“Yes, I am. What can I do for you?” Chris responded.
“I want you to find her and kill her. I’ll pay you 60,000 credits to kill her,” the woman answered.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but if I find her, and it’s at all possible, my responsibility is to turn her over to the Terran police.”
“Apela murdered my husband and I want her dead.
Although Chris sympathized with the woman’s loss, he had no intention of assassinating Martha Apela. Nor could he say anything suggesting she would receive the death penalty, which was against Terran law. The worst Apela would suffer would be a mind scrub, and, as far as Chris was concerned, a mind scrub was the same as the death penalty.
He had observed people who had had their minds scrubbed. Large portions of their memories were erased, resulting in a form of amnesia. They could still speak and walk, but they had no recollections of their friends and families, and had to begin their education all over, with extensive counseling to assure they didn’t develop the same behavioral problems. They were essentially entirely different people. Still, Chris thought, I don’t think my opinion on brain scrubs will give her the kind of consolation she wants, or the kind of revenge she wants.
“I am very sorry, ma’am, but I can’t help you.”
The woman glared at him and left.
The hair on the back of Chris’ neck was standing on end. Well, that was an interesting encounter. Let’s hope I don’t get any other murder for hire offers.
“Chris, using the information you have given me, I would theorize the woman talking to you saw Martha Apela as a threat and, choosing to ignore laws against murder and assassination, was reacting to the threat emotionally.”
“I believe you’re correct, Homer.” Chris thought briefly about discussing the concept of revenge with Homer, but it was almost time to meet Kelly Turner.
“Why did you not use empathic listening on her?”
“Perhaps I should have, but I seriously don’t think it would have done much good. She had made a decision and was pretty focused on it. Also, I think she needs far more counseling than I could provide. I’ll leave a message with Henry, tho, and advise him of the situation so she gets some professional counseling.” Chris hesitated. “Homer, empathic listening is not something I’m required to do. It’s not a responsibility. I would do it for friends and I might do it as a favor for a stranger. In Henry Lee’s case, there were multiple reasons. He is in a position of responsibility for this community and, from a big picture perspective, he needs to be emotionally clear to make decisions. Also, if he’s thinking clearly and making intelligent decisions, I can perform my job more efficiently.”
“You are saying empathic listening is not a responsibility, but a choice.”
Chris smiled. “Yes. Well, almost. I’m saying good deeds are a choice, not a responsibility. Let’s go. We’re supposed to meet the ambulance driver soon. I was thinking you could sleep on the ambulance while I’m checking out the damaged satellites.”
After getting directions from the information desk, Chris and Homer made their way to the ambulance, which was in one of the spaceport’s hangers. It looked a lot like one of Terra’s early space shuttles, but more oval. It had wings for atmospheric flight and stabilization, a retractable wheel base for takeoffs and landings, and the same general shape. The equipment inside was, of course, dramatically different. Chris had a nearby technician unlock the hatch.
Plasmonics had replaced the much bulkier electronics equipment, though the principals were still the same in many ways. (Plasmonics is based on the “fluid” properties electricity assumes at miniaturized levels and should not to be confused with plasma.) Antigravity thrusters supplied the forces necessary for fatal speeds, but were also used during the slower speeds necessary for atmospheric flight. There were three force field generators; the primary, and two backup systems.
The small size of this equipment left quite a bit of room available inside the ambulance. Its maximum capacity was listed as ten human occupants, but Chris knew this was a safety limitation and in a real emergency, such as an evacuation, the ambulance should be able to carry fifteen or sixteen individuals. Two individuals would have plenty of room for comfort, and even a small amount of privacy.
“Homer, why don’t you park yourself over there in the corner for the time being, while I familiarize myself with the ship.”
Homer said, “Chris, I am going to switch to sleep mode for the next twenty-six hours. If you should need me for anything, simply ask me to wake up. I will leave a low-level awareness sensor which will respond to your voice.”
Placing the bag with his civilian clothing and ID papers in it behind the Gredorian for safekeeping, he said, “Alright, Homer. Oh, before I forget, remind me to discuss the concept of the journey being more important than the destination with you later. Sweet dreams.”
Chris sat down at the control console, familiarizing himself with it. He was especially interested in its sensor array. The control panel showed sensors could read subatomic field energies and had the ability to register life form readings.
Henry was right, Chris thought. This is state of the art equipment.
Just as he was starting to become familiar with it, a lean, big-boned woman with dark hair and wearing a white ambulance uniform entered the ship. He saw obvious signs she, too, had been crying.
“Excuse me,” she said in a cold, unfriendly tone. “I’m Kelly Turner, and I’m not used to seeing someone else at the controls. I think I’ve become a little possessive of the Saint Marie.”
Chris reminded himself a friend of hers had recently been murdered and she was probably not in the best of moods. “It’s a sweet little ship. I can’t blame you for being a little possessive,” he said with his best easy-going smile.
She returned the smile stiffly and responded, “You must be Christopher Black, my temporary new boss.”
“Well, there’s a title I hadn’t thought of. But I suppose there’s some truth to it. How long before we can take off?”
“About ten minutes, if you’ll trade places with me. What’s that?” she asked pointing at Homer, who had folded himself up into a tight little package, seemed to blend in with the rest of the equipment.
“That’s my Gredorian associate, who has shut himself down for the next twenty-six hours. When he comes back on line I’ll introduce you,” Chris said, getting out of the pilot’s seat.
“Okay. Just make sure he doesn’t cause any problems.” Kelly took the control seat and began turning on switches and adjusting controls, while simultaneously talking to the spaceport tower.
Suddenly, Javis boarded the ship. “Don’t mind me. I’m just coming along as an observer.”
Chris was thrown off balance. He saw Javis as unnecessary baggage. “I don’t think we’ll you need you, Captain Javis. I’m sure Ms. Turner and I can track Apela by ourselves. And you must have things here you need to accomplish.”
“Actually, according to company regulations, the chief of security is supposed to be involved in any efforts to recover stolen property which ‘may include travelling with agents or law enforcement officials’ as a representative of the company.” Javis handed Chris a small computer manual of company policies. “Besides, you won’t be able to leave until I give the tower the go-ahead.”
Chris looked at the manuals vidscreen and read the regulation. He didn’t like it, but could see no way of getting out of the situation without a lengthy delay. And Chris did not want a lengthy delay. He wanted to continue the pursuit of Martha Apela and the corbinite before the trail dissipated.
“Alright. Have a seat,” Chris said frowning. “You realize we may not be back for as long as a month?”
“I know. I’m all set to go,” said Javis.
“The tower is asking to speak to Captain Javis,“ Kelly stated irritably.
Javis spoke briefly to the tower, giving them the go-ahead, then returned to his seat.
Kelly announced, “The tower has given us clearance for takeoff. Are we ready to go?”
“Yes. We’re ready to go,” Chris said, though he felt somewhat uneasy about having Javis aboard.
Antigrav thrusters were turned on and the wheel base tucked in silently. The ambulance moved slowly out from under the hanger and down the runway, its small navigational thrusters creating a low thrum of background noise.
“You know where we’re going, right?” asked Chris.
“The coordinates of the last damaged satellite,” Kelly answered distantly, focused on her work. “We’re going to be accelerating. Make sure your sitting down.”
Chris was already sitting, but appreciated the warning.
The ship accelerated fast as Kelly kicked in the antigrav thrusters, much faster than Chris had expected. I have to remember this is an ambulance, and she is an ambulance driver, he thought.
Within moments they were in the upper atmosphere and Chris was looking down at a planet with no visible water, only sand and mountains.
Kelly started decelerating as they approached the coordinates of the damaged satellite. What was left floated in space nearby. “Damaged” was not the word. It was little more than several pieces of scrap metal floating in space.
Standing next to Kelly at the control panel so he could get a good look at the satellite, Chris commented, “It’s not laser damage. This was caused by an explosion. Kelly, would you bring up a radiation reading?” He paused reading the radiation graph. “High ion count. I’ll bet they used an ion torpedo. Now see if there are fluctuations in the infra-red readings. We’re looking for a thermal trail leading away from here.”
“Infra-red? You’re never going to find anything with infra-red,” Javis stated.
“Yes, we will,” responded Chris. “Anything traveling at high speed leaves a wake in the EM field, which can be picked up in the low infrared.”
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Kelly asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “Computer, in the lower left hand side of the holoscreen create an interstellar map covering this area and project the direction of the thermal fluctuations.”
A map appeared showing the section of interstellar space they were in. A red arrow overlaid the map. Chris looked at it, and then looked back at the thermal readings. Something wasn’t quite right. The thermal trail was spiraled and off balance. These were the symptoms of a damaged engine.
“Kelly, would you do a spectral analysis for unusual amounts of gases in the immediate area? In particular we’re looking for oxygen and nitrogen.”
“Sure, boss,” Kelly replied. After a brief pause, she added, “Higher than normal amounts of oxygen, carbon dioxide, and nitorgen.”
“I’ll bet they were hit by laser fire from this satellite. It’s still too close to the planet for them to have put up their shields. They would have had no way of defending themselves. The question is, how badly were they damaged? These kinds of satellite fire multiple laser bursts simultaneously. If they were hit, they were probably hit more than once. We have to consider the possibility of extensive damage. Kelly, what I would like to do is follow the same course this trail suggests, at the maximum speed we can maintain, but I want to see any ships just floating around dead in space.
Kelly thought about it. “How about this? I accelerate in short bursts of fatal speeds and then coast for awhile allowing us to decelerate to a speed where I can scan for anything unusual. Then we can travel at fatal speeds, but still get you the search you want.”
“If you think it will work, let’s give it a try,” Chris said.