Ring Around the Sky - Allyn Gibson [17]
Gomez sat up in the dark with a start. “Computer, halt playback. Repeat last sentence.”
“The elegance of the Kharzh’ullan solution is that the structure is self-supporting and requires no outside assistance for its own maintenance.”
Hadn’t Tev said exactly that the day before during the mission briefing? Would Tev knowingly quote Eevraith, if their relationship was as damaged as she thought it was?
Gomez glanced at the wall chronometer, an idea half-formed in her mind. “Locate Bart Faulwell.” Very likely he was off duty—the current mission afforded him nothing to do—but she wanted to be certain. But the time—would he be awake?
“Crewman Faulwell is in his quarters.”
“Computer, download Eevraith-Ring-One to my padd.” The padd bleeped as Gomez grabbed her uniform jacket, threw it on hastily, and headed out, padd in hand. At the late hour—0130 hours, in the middle of gamma shift—she met no one in the corridors.
She stopped at the door to Faulwell’s cabin, tapped the chime, and waited. Seconds later the door parted.
“Commander,” Bart said as he rose from his desk. “Please come in.”
Gomez stepped into the cabin and waved him down. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She glanced about. “Where’s Fabian?”
Faulwell shrugged as he sat back down at his desk. “The surface, I think. The captain approved a sightseeing trip to see the Ring from the planet.”
Gomez nodded. “You didn’t go, obviously.”
Faulwell shrugged in his seat. “I wanted to catch up on some reading. I’ve gotten behind.”
Gomez smiled. “I know the feeling. Anything good?”
Faulwell handed her an old book, hardcover, its spine bent and tattered. “A gift from Anthony.”
She gently opened the cover and read the title page. “The True History of Planets, by Reginald Tyler.” She looked back at Bart. “Never heard of it.”
“Few have. At the time it was one of the great works of heroic fantasy in twentieth-century Terran literature, standing alongside Lord of the Rings, Gormenghast, The Swords of Lankhmar, even Thieves’ World.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, heroic fantasy has never been my particular choice for recreational reading.”
“Then why—”
“—did Anthony give me this? Because of the dogs, I’m sure.”
“Dogs?”
“Poodles, actually. With opposable thumbs.”
Gomez shot him a quizzical look.
“Seriously, it’s a heroic fantasy with super-intelligent poodles as the heroes, caught up in a revolution against the vaguely medieval tyrant that rules their world.”
Gomez shook her head and handed the book back to Bart. “Doesn’t sound all that serious to me at all. Why dogs?”
“Growing up, my grandparents raised purebred dogs.” Faulwell shrugged. “I suppose Anthony thought I would have a particular affinity for the book because of my childhood. It makes a certain perverse sense—I spent a lot of time around dogs, so I would have some emotional connection to them.”
“Not a dog person, eh?”
“When I was completing my postgraduate work I had three cats. It may have been an uneasy relationship for the four of us, but we each respected the others’ space. Dogs, though, are like children, needy and loud. Cats are a bit more self-reliant than that.” Faulwell laughed. “I hated dogs. Raised around them for so long, I grew tired of them, the way children grow tired of peanut butter-and-jelly