by Dom Testa
“Do you smell smoke?” came the voice behind him, the colorful British accent breaking his trance.
Turning, he looked up into the face of Channy Oakland, the ship’s Activities/Nutrition Director. Channy was dressed in red shorts and a T-shirt the color of a sunrise (Gap wasn’t sure he had ever seen her in anything but T-shirts). Her dark skin glistened; her hair was pulled back in a long braid.
“Smoke?” Gap said. He sniffed the air a couple of times, then looked at Channy. “I don’t smell anything.”
“Well, with you so deep in thought a moment ago I felt sure I could smell something burning,” Channy said with a grin. She patted Gap on the shoulder, then sat down next to him.
“Oh, you’re quite a comedian,” he said. He liked Channy, but so did everyone else. It hadn’t taken very long for her to capture the “most popular” tag among the crew. One of two fifteen-year-olds on the Council, she brought a sense of humor to the sometimes bleak atmosphere.
“Where did you watch the launch?” she said, biting into an energy block she had brought to the Conference Room.
“The large observation window outside the Dining Hall. I only stayed for a while, though. It got kinda depressing, I thought.”
“Hmm. Well, I’m going back in a little while. Lita said when the night side rolls around you can see lightning all over the place. I guess there’s something like a hundred storms going on at any one time, and the lightning is really cool. Wanna go?”
Gap thought about the lightning for a moment, which only made him think again about the rain back home. He shrugged and said, “I don’t know, Channy. Maybe. I might be kinda busy.”
“Oh yeah, lots of work to do, and we’ll only have five years to get it done,” Channy said sarcastically. “You’re goofy.”
“You love it.”
She crossed her arms, a smug expression painted on her face. “Speaking of love,” she began mysteriously, “would you agree that it’s a little early in the game for shipboard romance?”
Gap leaned back and put his feet up on the table. He wanted to laugh at the way Channy wasted no time in jumping into her favorite activity: gossip. Coming from anyone else it might have disturbed him, but somehow Channy Oakland was able to get away with it. He grinned at her, running a hand through his short black hair, which, as usual, was sticking straight up.
“So your radar has already picked up romance? We only launched this morning.”
“Oh, I think this has been smoldering for a while,” Channy said with a whisper, as if the room were filled with eavesdroppers, when in fact they were all alone. This made Gap grin even more, and he whispered right back to her.
“I am so intrigued. Tell me more, Inspector. Just how long has it been smoldering?”
Channy leaned over to him. “I think since the moment you met Triana.”
The grin on his face disappeared instantly. “What? What are you talking about?”
Now it was Channy’s turn to smile. She got up and walked over to the freshwater dispenser. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Gap pulled his feet down from the table and glanced around to make sure no one had entered the Conference Room. “What are you talking about?” he said again, a little more forcefully.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “I doubt anyone else has noticed a thing, but you can’t get anything past me.” She walked back over to the table holding a couple of small plastic cups of water. “You can joke all you want about my ‘radar,’ but it’s true, you know. I can sniff it out faster than anyone.” She batted her eyes at him. “It’s the romantic in me.”
With that, she sighed playfully and handed him one of the cups.
Gap started to speak, stopped, then started again. “I don’t know what you think you see,” he said, “but you can forget about it. I like Triana as much as the next person—”
“But not very many people do,” Channy said. “I’m not saying it’s her fault; she’s just very quiet and very private. She hasn’t made too many friends, you know.”
Gap toyed with his cup of water. “Her job isn’t to win any popularity contests. She’s got a lot of pressure on her right now. She’s sixteen years old and suddenly in charge of two hundred fifty … well, two hundred fifty pilgrims, I guess you could say. I wouldn’t want that kind of responsibility.”
“Yes, you would,” Channy said. “You might not have pushed for the job, but I’ll bet you would have taken it in a flash. You know the rest of us kind of assume you’re second in command. That’s got to be a nice feeling.”
“There is no ‘second in command.’ That’s why we have the Council.”
“Yeah, whatever. You know what I’m talking about, though. And don’t get me wrong, Gap. I like Triana, too. I know she’s under a lot of pressure, and I also know this is her way of handling it. Fine. But think about this …”
She paused for effect. “If I’ve noticed the way you look at her and talk to her, don’t you think she has, too?”
Gap didn’t answer. He began to roll the cup back and forth in his hands.
Suddenly Channy felt uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, Romeo,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret is that, Channy?” came a voice from the door. Gap and Channy both looked up to see Lita Marques stroll into the room alongside Triana. Lita’s black eyes and Latin American skin spoke of her upbringing in Mexico. Flashing a smile that only added to her already beautiful face, she grabbed the chair opposite Channy while Triana went to the end of the table across from Gap.
“You guys already have secrets?” Lita said.
“Yeah, I promised Gap I wouldn’t tell, but I guess it’s okay for you to know, Lita,” Channy said sweetly. Gap stared at her without breathing.
“See, Gap was a little disappointed that you couldn’t see the lines between the states and countries from space. You know, like you see on a map?” Channy winked at Lita, then shot a sly glance at Gap, who was slowly exhaling.
Lita winked back at her and fiddled with the red ribbon holding back her hair. “Fine, don’t tell me your little secret. I’ll just start keeping a few from you.”
Channy rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it.”
Triana interrupted their exchange. “Where’s Bon? It’s about time to get started.”
Gap looked down the table at her. “We’re still a few minutes early. He’s probably holed up in his crops. You know, nothing about him screams ‘farmer,’ but he sure loves that work.”
“Well, let’s face it, it gives him a chance to be by himself a lot, and that suits Bon just fine,” Channy said. “He would love this trip even more if he didn’t have to share the ship with two hundred fifty other people.”
Triana felt a little uncomfortable with the topic. Although she knew that Channy was only kidding around, she was well aware of the negative vibes that Bon could radiate. In her mind there was no sense fanning those flames so early in the trip. She was relieved when Lita changed the subject.
“Word is getting around that most of the major cities in the world are going to fire up every light they have tonight as a kind of farewell sign to us. Should be quite a sight when the dark side rolls around again.”
“One of us should watch it with Gap,” Channy said, “so we can explain that whole line thing to him again.”
Gap rolled his eyes. “You know, I am so looking forward to five years of your act.”
Triana didn’t respond. She was ready to leave Earth behind quickly. A light show meant nothing to her, other than more pain, a prolonging of the grief caused by the separation. She knew the rest of the crew felt as if they were celebrities of a sort, grand heroes being given a spectacular send-off. Chewing on her lip, she glanced up to see Bon Hartsfield walk in.
Bon, his light-colored hair hanging down almost to his shoulders, immediately walked to the water dispenser after only nodding at the assembled group. The scowl on his face was familiar by now, in
contrast to the bright, toothy smile of Lita. He was a year younger than Triana, the same age as Channy, though his severe expression always painted him older. Strong, if not as muscular as Gap, his Scandinavian good looks were smothered by what appeared to be a permanent sour mood. His pale blue eyes, like ice, reflected little warmth. He took his seat, and Triana looked at the faces surrounding her.
“Lita,” she said, “I know you’ve already had your hands full down at Sick House. Thanks for breaking away for this meeting.”
“Well, I only have about twenty minutes,” Lita said. “We’re swamped with messages from the crew, lots of stomachaches, things like that. Nerves, if you ask me.”
Triana nodded. “I thought that might happen after the initial buzz wore off.”
“Yeah,” Lita said. “Anyway, I left Alexa in charge for the time being. She knows what she’s doing, but I don’t want to leave her alone too long. It’s crazy right now.”
Bon finally spoke up. “Well, why don’t we get started? I’ve got work to do.”
It took an effort, but Triana managed to keep irritation from registering on her face, even though her green eyes blazed. Things had always been tense between her and Bon Hartsfield, from as early as she could remember. There was no question of his abilities to run the Agricultural Department, or any other department for that matter. Yet his personality had clashed with hers, sometimes leaving her to wonder if he might even be removed from his position on the Council prior to the launch. But it had never happened.
“We’ve all got work to do,” Triana said slowly. “Because this is our first postlaunch meeting, I think it’s important that we spend a few minutes to make sure everyone is caught up and feels good about what’s planned for each department.”
Gap jumped in, helping diffuse the tension. “You all probably know this, but I’ll tell you anyway. The ship is running fine. No surprises, no breakdowns. Now that we’re clear of the space station and out of Earth’s orbit we’ll start to really pick up speed. The solar sails are almost completely deployed, the ion power drive is kicking into gear and Roc says we’ll be outside the orbit of Mars within the next four weeks. After that we’ll accelerate at a faster clip. We’ll pull the sails back when we do the gravity slingshot around Saturn, but then it’s almost full speed ahead.”
Channy Oakland spoke up next. “The crew was lectured constantly about exercise over the last year. But there’s a pretty good chance they won’t take it that seriously now that we’re off by ourselves.” She grinned. “I might not make too many friends over the next couple of months, but I’m gonna have to be a drill sergeant until everyone gets into a consistent routine.”
“And you’ve already scheduled a soccer tournament, is that what I hear?” Triana said.
“Well, I can’t see why we should wait,” Channy told her. “I say get active and stay active. The dance program I suggested looks like it might be a hit. Several girls have signed up. All of these activities might help with some of the nerves and depression that Lita talked about.”
“Don’t forget about Airboarding,” Gap chimed in.
Channy said to him, “Can’t wait to show off, can you?”
“Bon, anything to report from the Farms?” Triana said. She did her best to keep her tone the same with him as when she addressed the other Council members. But that was hard for her. Bon could be so frustrating sometimes.
“Everything’s fine,” he said shortly. “Since Dr. Zimmer insisted we plant the first crops a couple of months before launch, a few things are already set for harvesting. The sun panels are working. We had a problem with some of the water recycling tubes, but we fixed that. All is well. Nobody should starve on this ship for at least the first few months.”
Coming from anyone else the comment would have been met with good-natured laughter. With Bon it came out with a sarcastic tint that left the Council quiet. After a moment Lita filled the silence with her own report.
“Like I mentioned already, a few stomachaches, some headaches, but nobody really sick. We’d like to keep it that way until we at least pass Mars, okay everybody?” This was greeted with chuckles. “Other than that, I’ll just wait for Gap to come in with his first Airboarding injury. Especially since he and the other hotshots are too cool to wear their knee and elbow pads.”
“Keep waiting,” Gap said, laughing. “How much you wanna bet you’ll get a soccer injury before any Boarder walks into Sick House?”
Tree was about to bring Roc into the conversation when suddenly the intercom flashed in front of her. Snapping it on, she could hear wild screams in the background. Someone was out of control, panicking, and if there were words mixed in with the screams, they were unintelligible. Tree was able to make out other voices, apparently crew members trying to calm or restrain the person who had lost it. Cutting through the sound of the screams came the intense voice of Lita’s assistant, Alexa Wellington.
“Lita, Triana, I need you over here. We have a sensitive situation.” It sounded much more serious than a “sensitive situation,” but Triana appreciated Alexa’s composure. She looked down the length of the table at Gap, their gazes locking instantly. “We’ll be right there, Alexa,” she said. “Gap, come with us. Channy, Bon, we’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Triana reached to shut off the speaker, cutting off the shrieks that sent shivers through all of them.
6
It was a staggering problem: designing a spacecraft capable of carrying 251 teenagers, plus self-sustaining food supplies, water recycling equipment, medical gear and more. The crew would spend many years in space, traveling at close to the speed of light towards a star that had at least one Earth-type planet circling it. The ship would need to contain all of the knowledge and practical information these colonists would require once they reached these new worlds. It would have to overcome any and all obstacles as they developed along the way. It needed a powerful guiding force.
The scientists in charge of the project gave Galahad exactly that; they gave it Roc.
Computers had evolved in stages. The early units were the size of small houses and worked hard to compute mathematical problems. By the end of the twentieth century they were the size of small briefcases and could run entire industries. During the early part of the twenty-first century there was a backlash against computers, partly because they were often replacing human beings and costing millions of people their jobs. But also because of fear.
Research had soon led scientists to build computers that were actually able to think for themselves and talk with their operators. Most people were not ready, or willing, to accept a machine that was their equal (or superior) in mental power. There was talk of literally pulling the plug on the computer industry, and some openly pushed for a return to simpler ways of life. For a few years progress was kept quiet, and discoveries in computer science were sometimes not even announced. The business of designing and building the small “talking boxes” became a secret underground business.
Eventually things changed again. There came a time when virtually everyone on Earth had spent their entire lives with computers, and the fear began to subside. The talking, thinking machines were now everywhere, controlling almost every aspect of day-to-day living.
But the Galahad project required much more. It was necessary to install one large, master brain aboard the ship that could oversee the entire project and take most of the pressure off the young space explorers. The machine would have to be in charge of the actual flying of the craft, including navigation and course corrections. It would also be in command once Galahad reached the new planets, helping to choose a desirable landing spot and making sure the mission ended as smoothly as it began.
Scientists and psychologists agreed that some type of adult presence would also be necessary. The computer that ran the mission would need to act as a guide to the teenagers on the ship, helping to make decisions that affected the everyday life they would lead.
And it would need a personality, to be seen
as something besides a cold, calculating box of blinking lights. The kids would have to feel some sort of closeness to it. All of these demands put an incredible amount of pressure on the scientific team in charge of the computer brain. And to almost everyone concerned, they more than accomplished their mission.
The man responsible for putting the complex machine together was Roy Orzini, a funny little man who laughed all the time and always made the kids feel happy, even when the weight of the mission seemed to be impossibly heavy. His spirit was contagious, and his visits were always the highlight of the sometimes-dreary training sessions.
Roy stood less than five and a half feet tall, and maybe weighed 120 pounds. “How is that possible?” Gap had asked him over lunch one day. “You eat all the time; every time I see you you’ve either got a sandwich or a box of cookies. Where does it all go?”
Roy’s straight face hid his wicked sense of humor. “Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to power this?” he said, pointing to his head. “I’ve got to keep this monster fueled at all times. My brain is a massive power hog. Always working, Gap, always churning away.”
“Yeah?” Gap said. “When will that powerful brain be finished with the talking box?”
Roy raised his eyebrows. “Talking box, eh? Let me set you straight, Mr. Lee. This little creation will not only be able to talk, but will do so in several dozen languages. Not to worry, though; I’ve already programmed it to use small words when talking to you, Gap, so you’ll be able to keep up. Maybe I’ll teach it to draw pictures so you don’t get too confused.”
Gap had to laugh. It was foolish to attempt a war of words with Roy Orzini, and best to surrender if you’d started one.
The computer, technically identified as OC-3323, was often referred to as “Roy’s Computer” in the early days, soon shortened to RoyCo, and eventually just Roc. Once spoken, the name stuck. And, much to the delight of the kids aboard Galahad, Roc came equipped with a personality matching that of its creator. Roc became as easy to like as Roy, and for more than a couple of the Council members it seemed as if Roy would actually be along for the ride.
