Chapter 8 #2
It almost sounded like a plan, except Yan had said nothing about what they would do once they found whatever or whomever was locking them inside the ship.
He also didn’t address the issue that there were certainly more than one someones or somethings who were trying to keep them all contained.
It took less than a second for Iris to conclude it was impossible for someone to man one of the Nicaea’s brains and be physically present to murder Ordan.
It took Iris less than a second to conclude this, which meant it took Yan half that time.
They were dealing with at least an armed pair, probably more.
Yet Yan continued on, from problem to problem, with the momentum of a severed tree trunk.
His eyes danced around the room, never settling on anything, tracing people’s faces.
If there was time and they were on smoother terms, Iris would have taken Yan aside and reminded him that he didn’t have to fear in silence and in solitude.
But they were not nearly so cordial, and there wasn’t the time. There was never enough time.
Since when do we care about the engineer’s mental state? VIFAI asked.
Since he’s the one coming up with the plan.
Iris caught Ishtan’s eyes from across the room, empty and tired.
The archaeologist stared at him with a blank expression, his eyes falling to the bloodied hem of Iris’s robes.
Iris had become a walking reminder of Ordan’s demise, but there hadn’t been time to change and no opportunity to wash the fabric. He winced apologetically.
Inside Iris’s mind, VIFAI scanned Nicaea’s map for any spaces that resembled nurseries.
In the time it took Iris to cross the communal space to Ishtan and Riyu, it had identified five.
Three were within immediate walking distance.
Two were right through the orchard he had discovered earlier.
Kneeling by Riyu, Iris gave the woman a hesitant smile and said, “Dr. Alo, I am terribly sorry to disturb you, but I am about to go on a search for some food and was hoping you would accompany me. Your knowledge of alien flora could really help me.”
In a fog, Riyu looked up and gave Iris a stiff nod. “You don’t want to poison yourself.”
“No, I wouldn’t want that.”
“I should come too,” Ishtan offered. “It would be safer.”
Iris gave him the same, hesitant smile. From the corner of his eye, he watched Yan, Jesi, and Tev head out towards the orchard.
Still there was no sign of the second security guard.
Where had he gone to, alone? Iris despised being suspicious of other people.
Suspicion was a poison that tore families apart and turned friends on one another.
And in here, with everyone already fraying at the ends, it could be the very thing to push them to a place they could not return from.
And then there would be violence, irreparable violence.
He had already been too late to prevent one death, and Iris feared he’d not be able to prevent a second.
Before they ventured towards the orchard, Iris ducked out into the corridor and nearly tripped over the seated security guard.
The man raised his head from resting on his folded arms. His half-lidded eyes stared ahead, looking straight at the opposite wall, the waves of his sweat-drenched hair falling over his face.
“We’re going to search for food,” Iris blurted out. “If you want to join us.”
“I got him the damn job,” the guard said. “Said it’d be easy, just watch a bunch of academics while they poke around this dump for a few days. Said it paid well.”
“These things—”
“Told his mom he’d be safe with me. It was his first security job.” He shook his head. “The hell am I supposed to tell her now? The hell she supposed to do with a dead son?”
“It could have been any of us.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“The will of the Light—”
The guard’s eyes darted upwards, meeting Iris’s in an unyielding glare.
“You don’t have many friends, do you? Acquaintances?
’Cause if you did, you’d know the will of the Light is the last thing I care about right about now.
I met a man and threw him a lifeline when he needed one.
I tipped him off about a job. Maybe he wasn’t my closest, oldest friend, sure, but I was responsible for him.
That’s how I see it. I was responsible, and now he’s dead, so the Light can just piss off and you along with it. ”
Iris held the guard’s gaze softly. Grief and anger were the closest friends Iris had ever known, and he knew them to always travel in a pair.
This wasn’t the time to explain that these sorts of things were unavoidable.
Someone always died. Someone always died when they weren’t supposed to, and there was little anyone could do about it except to say some words and lay down some flowers.
Saying nothing, Iris bowed deeply, hoping that his unspoken apology would be received.
“Does the lead engineer think I killed Ordan?”
“I don’t know,” Iris admitted. He was in no position to speak for Yan, nor could he ever fathom what went on in his head.
“Do you?”
These weren’t the words and hollow eyes of a murderer. Someone who was rash with his words, yes, and far too vulnerable with a stranger, someone scared, someone angry, but not a murderer.
“No,” Iris said and took his leave, realizing only after he had turned the corner that he had, once again, forgotten to ask for a name.
Climbing to the third deck and through the double doors, Iris returned to the humidity and sweetness of the orchard.
The engineers had already spread out their screens and tools around the control panel where not a few hours ago, Yan had first learned they were being watched.
The engineer gave Iris a stern nod and said nothing, but his gaze lingered on Iris’s back as he crossed the orchard and disappeared from view.
Riyu and Ishtan followed Iris slowly and stopped frequently, whenever Riyu began to sob.
She hid her face behind her hands as best as she could, but the sobs still escaped between her parted fingers and spilled out into the quiet of the long corridors.
Once the sobs subsided, she’d apologise profusely, and they would all stop again to comfort her.
All this while frigid water dripped around them in the decrepit corridors, and Iris’s feet ached with the cold of the metal floors.
“Just a few more turns,” Iris said after consulting his mind map of the ship.
Unless Dr. Alo keeps being a baby. VIFAI was seemingly in a mood of sorts, and Iris had no desire to figure out what sort of mood it was.
A moment later, having fallen slightly behind, Ishtan called out.
“Esteemed colleagues? I think you’d like to see this.
” His voice was barely louder than the dripping of the water, but something in the archaeologist’s tone made Iris pause.
Ignoring the pain prickling the balls of his feet, he turned back around and corralled Riyu around the corner, where Ishtan’s voice was coming from.
Another mural. Both violence and death were captured in broad brushstrokes across the twenty-metre-long painting. Iris followed the images, trailing the faded paint to the end of the corridor.
“This is incredible,” Ishtan muttered. All the fear had vanished from his voice, replaced with awe and elation and dedication. “This is impeccably preserved, despite the conditions. It would turn the field of First Earth studies on its head.”
“If we live long enough,” Riyu said.
It was sounding more and more like Ishtan was trapped on a very different ship than the rest of them.
Of all of them, Ishtan had the keenest eye for the murals and the rest of the ship, a personal and professional appreciation.
Of all of them, he was the only one who knew the true price of the Nicaea—not whatever was aboard it, but the ship itself—to the academic community.
A sudden urge to pray washed over Iris as he took in the rising reds and blacks of the mural, detailing a bloody confrontation that was both very old and very human.
His fingers passed along the worn-out beads of his mala in a futile attempt to ground himself.
War. Could war erupt in such a contained space?
How could conflict grow to such magnitudes?
Could difference be manufactured among people with the same goals, with the same destination, when the destination itself was so noble?
Iris thought back to the skull with a perfectly round hole in the bone.
Whether it was self-inflicted or imposed made all the difference.
“Ishtan, do you believe this is a historical account or a fictional one?”
Ishtan shrugged. “Does it matter?” He was already sizing up how to best remove the mural.
It mattered. It mattered even more when Iris spotted the same watchful eye in the top-right corner of the mural.
Can you make a visual record of this? Iris asked VIFAI and scanned the mural from right to left.
How many more bones in the cargo bay would have man-made wounds; smooth, round, holes in temples; unnatural fractures?
How many more signs that something horrific had taken place within the corpse of the Nicaea?
Breathe.
“Have either of you wondered why we haven’t come across any remains so far?
The ship had at least thousand people on board, and yet the only bones I’ve come across are the ones the engineers moved into the cargo bay.
” Yan had warned Iris about upsetting others, but the words snuck out of their own volition.
The question was as much for himself as it was for Ishtan and Riyu’s benefit.