Thomas was cautious around the others. He kept to himself as he went about making adjustments to Citadel’s systems. He tried not to concentrate on the irony that he was doing work meant to save these people, even though everyone here thought of him as the most vicious murderer of all time.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true, was it? They didn’t know, yet, that he was John Thomas Paris. They only knew him as Thomas. So far.
Taggart hadn’t told anyone yet. It had been a day since their impromptu meeting in Somar’s command center, and Thomas had slept fitfully the night before. Somar had assigned Billy to the same tent, as his guard, though Thomas wasn’t at all sure it would have mattered. If the crowd suddenly discovered his identity, there might be nothing that could stop them from tearing him to pieces.
He fought to concentrate on the work at hand. These computer systems were much more advanced than those of his time, but he had been a quick study. Immediately after coming out of stasis, he had read every technical manual and white paper he could get his hands on. For weeks he had poured over documentation, schematics, and source sites to bring himself up to speed. He had studied computer technology his whole life, and even though there had been many advances since he’d gone under, the principles were still very much the same.
It was the mechanical engineering that was throwing him for a loop.
Who would have expected that star travel would revert back to older, much more ancient technologies? The computers were still there and still vital. But to operate at faster-than-light, racing along the lightrail, required pure mechanics. The nature of faster-than-light travel made it impossible for computers and wireless systems to function. Mankind had to depend, once again, on gears, cranks, pulleys, and hydraulics.
In some ways, this pleased Thomas more than he could say. It was like awakening to find he’d slipped backward—not forward—into time. The first time he had encountered a hand-cranked communicator, he had laughed out loud, prompting strange looks from the people around him. It seemed so archaic and yet so brilliant. It was elegant in design, and yet it functioned better than any device he’d known in his own time. It was enough to make him feel somewhat ashamed of the world he’d left behind, where technology was becoming so much plastic and silicon junk, replaceable at a moment’s notice and, therefore, disposable. This mentality led to even more cheap junk, and before long it was nearly impossible to buy something of any quality. Quality had become an endangered species.
But now, in this time when mankind had returned to technological simplicity and elegance, the earmarks of quality could be seen again. Because resources onboard a lightrail ship could become scarce in an instant, great care was taken to preserve everything, to reuse and repurpose everything.
Thomas couldn’t get over how much had changed. The world, yes. It had no choice but to change, with the mass exodus of many of the Earth’s inhabitants. With the creation of new technologies and the inhabiting of new worlds.
And humanity had changed so much in the past century. In some ways for the better—there seemed to be a unity to humanity that had been utterly lacking in Thomas’s time. But in some ways for the worse—with working class distinctions taking the place of racial prejudices. Thomas wasn’t sure what was worse—bigotry over class or bigotry over race, religion, and gender. Maybe it was impossible for humans to just “be.” Maybe they couldn’t exist without that component of hatred for the “other.” So in that respect, humanity hasn’t changed so much after all, Thomas thought.
Then again, as he looked at the elegant computer system before him, framed more in brass and wood than in plastic, and as he noticed the attention that had been paid to every detail and the high quality of every component, he felt that humanity now, once again, seemed to care about the quality of what it built. It took pride in its work. That was something Thomas hadn’t seen in his time. It was a concept that belonged to the world a hundred years before he was born. That was how humanity had changed during his absence—it had gotten a work ethic.
Most surprising, Thomas was startled to discover, was that he himself had changed.
To think that his biggest ambition over a hundred years ago had been to sit in a room with thirty or forty other men and women and watch a spacecraft launch into space! It seemed so useless, so passive now. Here he was now, on an alien world! Not watching it, himself static and unchanging. He was participating! He was living his life, it seemed, for the very first time.
It would be a shame if that life came to a sudden and tragic end over crimes he’d never actually committed, over a hundred years ago.
“Mr. Taggart told me,” Thomas heard someone say. He looked up from the computer terminal and saw two Blue Collar workers walking past. They paid no attention to him, and he realized suddenly that he’d expected them to glance his way. He had expected them to say that Taggart had revealed his secret. He hadn’t realized he was so paranoid.
“But how can it be true? I know some of them, and I’ve met a lot more since we got here. I don’t think it’s true.”
“Why would Mr. Taggart lie? What’s he got to gain?” the first Blue Collar man said.
The second thought for a moment. “I can’t think of any reason. But it just seems wrong somehow.”
“What’s wrong,” the first said sternly, “is that you and me have spent more time on this planet than any other planet we’ve ever been to in our whole lives. Don’t you think its funny that we ain’t heard from Captain Alonzo even once since we’ve been here?”
“Yeah,” the second said. “How come?”
“Mr. Taggart says that the alien’s keeping everything to himself. He’s shut off the comms. And the White Collars are helping him. Especially that … ”
It was then that they finally noticed Thomas, who at this point was making quite a show of being engrossed in the computer in front of him. The two men silently but quickly made their way from his vicinity, and Thomas spared a glance toward them as they left.
This was not good.
Taggart was sowing seeds of discord among the Blue Collars, getting them worked up against Somar. But more than that, he’d tied the White Collars in as the enemy as well.
A civil war between the White Collars and the Blue Collars would be a disaster here. It would hurt everyone’s chances of survival, including Taggart’s. Without the support of the White Collars, things would grind to a halt quickly. So what was Taggart’s game exactly?
And what about the colonists? Taggart was well known to be at the top of that particular food chain. How was it to his advantage to stir up a class war? The wealthy elite that he depended on for support would surely be the next target of the Blue Collars’ ire, and that couldn’t be good for him.
Thomas wrapped up what he was doing and made his way to where Somar was working with several crewmembers. The water purification system was in place, pipe had been laid along the trenches that led to the major areas of the camp. Several lines of water and power stretched to spots that had no tents or inhabitants but were the sites chosen for future building. They would be homes, government facilities, a hospital—anything the colony needed. Thomas felt once again that Somar was a truly great leader, a truly great man. His goals were unselfish and were aimed at the survival and prosperity of the colony. The tension that was building around him would destroy everything he was working toward, unless something was done now.
“I need to talk to you,” he said to Somar as soon as he stood beside him.
Somar looked at him for only an instant and turned to assign duties to the crew before following Thomas away toward the command center.
“Not there,” Somar said. He indicated, instead, an opening in the base platform of Citadel. It was an access to the large cargo bay of the module, and just within, there was a set of stairs that wound to the upper levels. The module, the nerve center of the colony, was also meant to serve as temporary shelter for a support crew as the colony was built. In a normal scenario, the colony module and the Citadel module would have stood side by side on an alien world. The citizens would have slept while the crews built their future homes.
As Thomas and Somar mounted the stairs, Thomas noted the narrow lanes between the rows of bunks. There wasn’t much room here, only enough for people to squeeze in and out on their way to and from a place to sleep. There wasn’t even enough room for two people to stand side-by-side. Thomas found himself feeling a bit claustrophobic.
Finally, Somar led him through a door at the end of the bunk-lined corridor, and the two emerged in an equipment room that had been gutted and emptied by the crew. Racks lined the walls, and Thomas saw that a desk space had been built using empty shelves and a crate for a chair.
“You’ve been nesting,” Thomas smiled.
“A precaution,” Somar said. “One must have a refuge when surrounded by enemies.”
Thomas caught on immediately. “You already know about Taggart’s rebellion?”
“Has it advanced so far as to be called a rebellion? I learned this morning that he was spreading the seeds of mutiny. I have some experience in this area.”
“That guy … Jack?”
“Yes,” Somar said. He looked pained somehow. Sad.
“This could be much worse. I don’t know exactly what Taggart has in mind, but he’s corralling the Blue Collars, getting them churned up.”
“He is attempting to turn them against the others,” he said.
“I think it’s just you and the White Collars, actually,” Thomas replied. “Something tells me he’s not going to risk his collection of wealthy elite.”
“The results are the same,” Somar said, a foul expression on his face. “Taggart will destroy this community if he cannot be stopped.”
Thomas thought for a moment. “Do you think that’s his goal?” he asked.
Somar frowned. “You do not?”
“No. Taggart … he’s a leader. Maybe a selfish one and a self-preservationist to boot. But he knows people, and he knows he needs them. How could a class war help him?”
Somar thought about this for a moment. He leaned against the makeshift desk, contemplating. “’The value of war is in its ending,’” Somar quoted.
Thomas had never heard the expression. “Who said that?”
“It is from the Book of Nolad. He was a great philosopher among my people. In this case, he was referring to the end of wars between members of my race. For so long, war was believed to be good for our people. When one of the Esool fell, his body added nourishment to the soil of our world. He fed the soil, and other Esool could take strength from him. His blood mingled with the water and his bones became the dust. And the silent plants, those that did not evolve with us, could feed and feel what it was like to be free of the soil. In this time, war was considered both necessary and a great honor.”
“What turned you around?” Thomas asked, fascinated.
“Travel to the stars,” Somar said, a gleam lighting his eyes. “When we learned that we could live on new worlds, that we were not rooted as the silent plants were, we discovered that it was no great thing for men to die. It was much greater, much nobler for them to live.”
“And so this Nolad … he was talking about your freedom? The value he was talking about was that you continued on, to colonize other worlds?”
“Exactly so,” Somar said. “But as in all sayings of wisdom, one can find truth of which the author himself might not have been aware. And so now, here on this world, I see a new meaning in Nolad’s words. A meaning that Mr. Taggart seems already to know.”
Thomas thought for a moment. “By setting up the war, he’s giving everyone a common purpose. And when he steps in to stop it, he comes off as the hero.”
“The great peacemaker,” Somar said. “But how many will die in his effort to assert control over the colony?”
Thomas had no answer. He had only a sickening, dropping feeling in his stomach. “Do we think Taggart could be such a bastard,” Thomas asked, “as to sacrifice a bunch of innocent lives for his own purposes?”
“You have any doubt of it, Mr. Paris?”
Thomas inhaled sharply and paused for a moment. He hadn’t been called that name much lately. “I … ”
Somar waved. “I am making a point. Taggart knew who you were from the outset and had plans to use you in some game of his own design. He obviously has no qualms about using the lives of others as paving stones for his path.”
Thomas nodded. “You’re right.” Something occurred to him then. Something he’d been too afraid to ask before. “Somar … what do you think of me? I mean, now that you know who I am?”
Somar studied him for a moment. “I did not know who you were before, and yet I trusted you. I mingled my blood with yours, a sacred act among my people. In that moment, I bound myself to you in life and in death. There is not one doubt in my mind that I made a wise choice. You are worthy of respect, honor, and trust.”
Thomas hadn’t known just how badly he needed to hear these words. He hadn’t known how hard they would hit him. He suddenly felt his eyes burn as tears formed in them. He wiped them away with his shirtsleeve. “Thank you,” he said. He managed to say it without choking. “What … what do we do about Taggart?” he asked.
Somar shook his head. “I do not know. Mr. Thomas. I am afraid I’m out of my element when it comes to dealing with men like Taggart. No Esool would sacrifice others for his own purpose.”
“Well, unfortunately humans seem to have no trouble with it. Never have,” Thomas sneered. “But we have to do something. Say something. Somehow we have to put a stop to this before people get killed.”
Just then there was a spike from the communicators on their shoulders. “Captain Somar,” came Billy Sans’s voice. “Please report to the Command Center.”
Somar reached up and pressed the comm. “I’ll be right there,” he said. He looked at Thomas. “Mr. Thomas, I trust you to come up with a solution. I apologize for placing this responsibility on your shoulders, but I’m afraid I am stretched far too thin at the moment. I need someone I can trust to deal with this situation, and the number of humans on that list is exactly three.”
Thomas laughed. “ok,” he said. “No pressure. Mind if I tag along to the Command Center, though?”
“Of course not,” Somar said. And with that they exited the makeshift secret headquarters of the Captain.
The command center was alive with activity. Billy Sans had recruited several other Blue Collar and White Collar workers. There were even a couple of the wealthy colonists present, performing tasks that Thomas felt sure they must have had some part in during their previous lives. These were good men, he felt. Confident and competent. How had they fallen in with Taggart?
He caught himself. How did he know they had? He couldn’t assume that every wealthy colonist was on Taggart’s list of allies. Maybe they’d had their own legitimate reasons for coming on this trip. Maybe they were looking for opportunities on a new world. It was entirely possible that these men were the kind of self-made entrepreneurs that Thomas found honorable. They may have come by their fortunes honestly and earnestly.
“What is it, Mr. Sans?” Somar asked, as soon as they had entered.
“We have communication with the orbital platform, sir. It’s Mitch Garrison. And he has Captain Alonzo with him.
Somar nodded and stood before the computer.
Thomas looked at the screen just as Mitch’s image materialized there.
“Captain Somar. We’ve made contact with Captain Alonzo, sir. But we’ve got a problem. He says that Alan Angelou is the saboteur.”
Thomas could not hide his shock. “What!”
“Thomas,” Mitch said. “I know you and Alan are close, and believe me, I felt the same way. But the Captain has shown me vid footage of Alan doing something to the ship’s navigation computers.”
“But … why?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know,” Mitch replied.
“Mr. Garrison,” Somar said, “Captain Alonzo is with you?”
Mitch hesitated. “Yes, sir.”
“Please put him on screen,” Somar said.
Mitch turned and looked to his left. “Sir?” he said to whomever was off-screen.
In a moment, he moved from where he was seated, and Thomas watched as a man’s torso came into view. After a moment, Captain Alonzo lowered himself within view.
Thomas nearly gasped. Alonzo’s face was horribly mutilated, and it looked as if he’d lost an eye. He was obviously in bad shape, possibly dying, but his bearing was that of a strong and confident man.
“Captain Alonzo,” Somar said quietly, “You have been injured.”
“Yes,” the Captain replied. “I’m afraid I won’t hold out much longer. But Mr. Garrison has convinced me that I need to speak with you.”
“Indeed,” Somar replied. “I am alarmed by this news. I do not know Mr. Angelou well, but he seems to be an honorable man. I’ve seen no evidence of treachery.”
Thomas spoke up, “He’s risked his life for this colony, Captain. He’s a good guy.”
“I wasn’t aware of this either,” Alonzo said on screen. “In fact, I had suspected … someone else. You should know that Taggart is the head of Earth First, Captain Somar.”
“I do know it,” Somar said.
“Good. Keep a close eye on him. But he is not your primary concern. I don’t know what Angelou’s agenda is, but he is clearly responsible for everything that’s happened since we left the Hub.”
“But how?” Thomas asked. “Wouldn’t the security systems at the Hub have detected changes to the navigation system?”
“He did his work after we left the Hub,” Alonzo said.
It took a moment for Thomas to realize what this meant. “He was able to reprogram the computer systems while we were on the lightrail?”
“It’s true, Thomas,” Mitch said off screen.
“How?” Somar asked.
“I believe he took advantage of the lag between leaving the Hub and reaching full light speed,” Alonzo replied. “It’s the only way he could have done what he did. He also disengaged several security and safety systems, which allowed him to lock down the platform crew, keeping them in stasis. I’m not sure why yet.”
“But what happened to you, Captain?” Somar asked.
“Our maneuver just outside of orbit sent the platform careening out into space. The propulsion system malfunctioned. When I attempted to manually override it, I met with a surprise. There was an explosive device in the access panel.”
“My God,” Thomas said. “I just … I can’t believe this. Alan … it just can’t be true.”
“Mr. Thomas,” Alonzo said, “Mitch tells me that you befriended Alan when he aided in your rescue on the surface. Had you met him before the crash?”
“No,” Thomas said. “That would have been … it would have been extremely unlikely that he and I would have met each other before we boarded the ship.”
“Why is that?” Mitch asked.
Thomas glanced at Somar, who was regarding him calmly. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I can’t go into it now. But trust me, I never met Alan Angelou before that day.”
Alonzo nodded, accepting the evasion and the assurances, but Mitch seemed vaguely wary. Thomas was sure he’d have to work hard to explain things later. He hoped he wouldn’t lose Mitch’s trust and friendship. But he couldn’t explain now, in front of dozens of witnesses, that he was the most hated man in history. “I was framed” wouldn’t be enough to prevent his lynching.
“Captain Alonzo,” Somar said. “You must accompany Mr. Garrison to the surface. You need medical attention.”
“It’s too late,” Alonzo said.
“Captain, I insist. I … we have a way to heal you.”
Thomas looked at Somar, realizing what he meant. He could use his blood to heal Alonzo.
Alonzo laughed. “Blood brothers, Captain?” he said.
Thomas glanced around at the room, but no one seemed to understand what this meant. Alonzo had said it cryptic enough to keep Somar’s secret. Of everyone in the room, only Billy Sans met Thomas’s gaze. Did he know about Somar’s abilities as well? It hit him that, yes, Billy had seen Somar heal himself from massive injuries.
“Yes,” Somar said in reply, with no hint that he was hiding anything.
“Too late even for miracles,” Alonzo said. “Besides, someone has to keep things going here until the crew can be awakened. You’ll need the platform’s satellite capabilities to track Alan. And I’ve been unable to launch any of the orbitals since we got here. Until I can get the crew out of those pods, I’m afraid this is just the way it has to be.”
“We can send some of the crew up,” Somar suggested.
“You will do no such thing. Every man is needed on the surface right now. And you can’t afford to send the shuttle back up once Mitch and Reilly get it back to you. You’ll need it. The shuttles are also on the list of things we have no access to. Whatever Alan’s plan is, he’s screwed us pretty good. I don’t think he intended for anyone to ever leave that world.”
“What could he possibly have in mind?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know,” Alonzo said. “But one thing is clear. He’s looking for something in the pods.”