Orb by Gary Tarulli

violin (she was an accomplished violinist, from time to time playing for the crew), Diana’s houseplants, Paul’s antique barometer collection. The only person with no items on the list is Melhaus. You can call your dog “nonessential mass,” too, though I doubt she’d come. Have you ever known of a crew being allowed to encumber a ship so? Do you realize how prohibitively expensive extra weight is?”
    I admitted I hadn’t and didn’t. I still wasn’t exactly sure what Thompson was getting at but despite receiving no answers to his questions, he seemed to be gaining momentum.
    “Just as I expected, you’re batting a thousand. To go on. A month prior to our departure I thought it useful to have a chat over a couple of drinks with the commander of the previous expedition to P5. By the third drink he informed me that elevated levels of stress had led to a serious morale problem during his voyage. By the fifth drink he let on that a violent argument erupted between two members of his crew. He grumbled about having been ordered to keep what happened under wraps. The Agency told him they had more than enough difficulty funding deep space missions. Said they didn’t need a private matter turned into a public distraction.”
    “Interesting,” I said.
    “Yes, isn’t it?” Thompson said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll say one thing, a fight during a mission is almost unheard of.”
    “I think I’m finally starting to catch on,” I said. “But wouldn’t you agree that the CSA, in addition to taking the remedial steps you pointed out, repeatedly informed us that we’d be exposed to stressful situations; that they warned us—in fact, trained us—to identify the obvious causes?”
    An expression of doubt passed over Thompson’s face. “Of course they warned us, but I suspect the Agency was also reacting to something they could not put their finger on. And I’ll tell you what else I think. I think the Agency believed your psych minor would be an additional benefit to this mission. Especially so when coupled with your communications training and your ability as a writer to make observations about human behavior. Am I not right? You appear to be proactive in trying to lift the crew’s spirits. Like earlier today.”
    “Am I so transparent?”
    “Not transparent. Self-effacing perhaps.”
    “Careful, there may be a compliment in there somewhere.”
    “If there is, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to one. So I ask you, besides the usual reasons, what do you think is contributing to the heightened stress levels on this type of mission?”
    I had been considering this very question, even without knowledge of the prior crew’s problems. Still, I hesitated to volunteer an opinion, for when an idea receives a voice it gains a life, one it might not deserve. I didn’t hesitate long. Based on what I knew about Thompson if my idea did not deserve to live, he would be the first, and best, person to kill it.
    “I only have a theory of sorts, based almost exclusively on my own behavior and casual study of the crew during the last three months. I can factor in what you just told me. Plainly put, I believe deep space missions carry us too far from Earth for too long.”
    “You have my attention,” said Thompson. “Go on.”
    “Has there ever been a study of the psychological effects resulting from being outside Earth’s solar system for a protracted period? Of being completely separated from all forms of verbal and visual communication? Has an attempt been made to assess the behavioral changes brought about by being utterly devoid of contact with Earth?”
    “Not that I’ve been privy to. There have only been five extrasolar voyages, including ours.”
    “Perhaps the crews of extrasolar missions, on a subconscious level, are having problems coping with the realization that the Earth has been completely diminished. By that I mean both in actuality, due to the total lack of communication, and symbolically,