Ship of Fools by Richard Russo Read Free Book Online

that you cannot force belief. You cannot create faith in others through force of will.”
    “We’re not likely to have a repeat of what happened there,” I said. “Not this time, anyway.”
    “No. From what I understand, it isn’t likely that we will find anyone, is it?”
    “I suppose not. No one alive.”
    “That’s too bad.”
    “Why?”
    She shrugged. “We are too isolated. For a few years at a time, it may be harmless. But we need contact with other people—people who do not live on the Argonos , people with different ways of life, different ideas, different ways of looking at the world.”
    “Different beliefs?”
    “Yes, different beliefs, too. But we don’t have contact with other people. We go far too many years without seeing anyone other than ourselves. In fact, I do not think it is a good thing that we spend our entire lives on this ship.”
    “Why not?” I was amazed at how open she was with me, and I wanted to encourage her to keep talking.
    “We stagnate, and we have no history.”
    “We create our own history.”
    “But we don’t, actually. Most people know little or nothing about what occurred on this ship before they were born. And what little they know has no context.”
    She may be right, I thought. It was something I would have to think about.
    “We might find people down there,” I said to her, trying for optimism. “To give us context.”
    But she just sighed. She put out her hand and I grasped it in mine.
    “It’s been good talking to you, Bartolomeo. I’m looking forward to making landfall with you, whatever we find.” With that she released my hand, turned, and walked away, quickly becoming lost in the shadows.
     
    S HE smelled of honey and cinnamon.

8
    “T HE transmission has changed,” Nikos said.
    He stood in the open doorway of my quarters holding a bottle of wine.
    “Then there is someone alive down there.”
    Nikos shrugged, then stepped into the first of my two rooms. “Share a bottle with me,” he said.
    “All right.” I stood up and got glasses; then we sat in the two chairs at my small table, bottle and glasses between us. Nikos looked awful. His skin was pale and drawn; the dark crescents under his eyes were deeper and seemed permanent. I could smell alcohol and knew he had already been drinking, but his hands were steady as he opened the bottle and poured a glass for each of us. The wine was dry and good, far better than what was usually available, even in the upper levels. The Costa-Malvini clan had a private vineyard downside, and their own personal master vintner.
    “I don’t know, Bartolomeo.” He glanced up at the overhead lights, squinting. “How about bringing them down a bit?”
    I dimmed the lights to half-normal, and he nodded his thanks.
    “I don’t know,” he said again. “It changed frequency,and the duration shortened, but the damn thing is now as steady and unvarying as it was before. I have a feeling the change doesn’t mean a thing.” He was staring into his glass, tipping it slightly from side to side. “We’ve been sending our own transmissions, everything Communications can think of, but we don’t get any response.” He slowly shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s down there.”
    “Unless they’re scared,” I suggested. “Scared and hiding.”
    That seemed to pique his interest, and he looked up from his wine. “That’s a possibility. But if that’s true, why is there any transmission?”
    “Good question. Perhaps it’s meant as a warning. Or . . . perhaps no one knows about the transmission.” There was a third possibility, which had just occurred to me, but I was reluctant to bring it up. I hesitated, then said, “It could be bait.”
    “Bait.”
    “To lure a ship like ours into some kind of trap.”
    Nikos stared long and hard at me, then drank the rest of his wine and refilled his glass. He turned his face to the dimmed light globes above us. “Traps,” he said. “Traps everywhere.” I