The Comet's Curse

by Dom Testa

  16

  Genetic screening. The term didn’t scare people anymore, not like it had near the end of the twentieth century. In those days many people tried to associate it with selective breeding, or the creation of Frankenstein-like beings, when in reality it was simply a human version of preventive maintenance. Once scientists and doctors had learned the secrets of reading the genetic blueprint, it became obvious that the easiest way to combat disease and defects in people was to stop them before they started.

  By the year 2025 it had become common practice to examine the gene structure of an unborn child and to repair any suspect areas that might lead to problems after it was born. Many childhood diseases were virtually eliminated, and birth defects became increasingly rare. Those who had at first objected were slowly convinced by the obvious benefits, until soon the only people opposed to it did so because of religious convictions.

  The screening process for Galahad was perhaps the most intense ever devised. Of the five thousand young people originally chosen for testing, almost two thousand were immediately rejected after undergoing thorough genetic testing. Dr. Zimmer faced an incredible wave of negative publicity when the results were first announced, as many of the families of rejected applicants cried out in anger, some claiming that Zimmer was putting together the beginnings of a “super race” of humans.

  “Nonsense,” the project leader told the press. “It’s not a matter of trying to create SuperKids. We’re simply trying to give these colonists the best chance at survival in a possibly hostile new world. We want to eliminate as many difficult hurdles as we can, and that includes filtering out potentially dangerous physical ailments. If these kids are the last hope of mankind, why wouldn’t we want to help them with every means at our disposal? We can’t be influenced by bruised feelings. This is far too important.”

  Another safeguard included the construction of the Incubator. Its real name was the Sterile Environmental Receptacle, or SER, but Dr. Zimmer hated that label. It would house the 251 space travelers for their final month before launch, isolating them from the outside world. They would be watched and tested in the sterile environment, one final precaution that nothing developed in them that could jeopardize the mission. Galahad’s passengers would all be in perfect physical shape when they boarded, and once they were sealed inside there would be no chance of any Earth contaminate making the journey.

  If the scientists were correct, this would mean even the common cold would be left behind, along with other transmittable sicknesses. Dr. Bauer observed how the kids would all be kept safe and warm for the weeks leading up to their departure, and compared it to a hospital incubator. The name naturally stuck, and from that moment on the Incubator was their final stopping point before the exodus.

  While the passengers themselves were being shielded from earthly contamination, the process of keeping their vessel completely clean was under way. As each section of the giant spacecraft was assembled in high Earth orbit, thousands of tiny robots scurried from level to level. Many of them inspected the construction progress, double- and triple-checking each joint, each connection, each wiring patch, each nut and bolt. Hundreds of others were assigned the duty of sterilizing the finished product, vaporizing all remains of human contact left behind. When Galahad’s young pioneers stepped aboard, it would be as if they had entered a sanitary laboratory.

  Wallace Zimmer had a balancing act to perform. He wanted the ship to leave in absolutely perfect condition, with no traces of germs anywhere. Yet at the same time he was determined that the teenagers who would be carried into space should feel as comfortable as possible, a true home away from home, and the thought of a totally sterile spacecraft sounded too much like a hospital. He was counting on Fenton Bauer’s experience with extraterrestrial dome design to help.

  “I want these kids to feel completely at home,” he told Bauer as they sat in the project cafeteria one afternoon. “I’m allowing them to bring several items from home, and they’ll each have a hand in decorating their own room. But there’s one thing I don’t want them to bring aboard.”

  “Let me guess,” Dr. Bauer said. “Germs.”

  “Right.”

  Dr. Bauer nodded in agreement before a sad smile washed across his face. “When my son was little he used to call them ‘gerbs.’ Every time I would tell him to wash his hands before dinner he would waddle down the hall to go ‘get rid of the gerbs.’ ”

  He shifted in his chair and looked across at Dr. Zimmer. “I did my best to teach him about ‘gerbs,’ how to stay healthy and fit. But there’s nothing I can do about these ‘gerbs,’ is there? Washing his hands won’t help him this time. Or you or me.”

  An uncomfortable moment passed, then Dr. Bauer seemed to recover.

  “I know what you’re looking for,” he said. “Zap the germs on everything from posters to pajamas, but keep the ship feeling warm and homey, right?”

  “That’s right,” Dr. Zimmer said. “I don’t want them to feel like their things are being zapped. I’d like to keep their personal belongings exactly that: personal. They’re going to feel disconnected anyway once they leave, and I’d like for them to maintain their connection to as many personal things as possible. If we treat these items like lab objects, it’s just one more layer of comfort that’s stripped away. It’s up to you and Angela Armistead to make sure there’s still a human touch to all of this.”

  For the next hour the two men changed direction and began focusing on which kids were qualified to lead the various departments. Of all the candidates for the role of Activities/Nutrition Director, Zimmer was particularly drawn to Channy Oakland.

  Bright and enthusiastic, Channy was just barely old enough to qualify for the mission, but Zimmer was convinced that she would play an important role after launch. Her mother, a physical therapist, had made sure that she grew up with a healthy respect for her body and the proper nutrition and exercise needed to keep it finely tuned. Channy and her older sister, D’Audra, had also spent many long hours assisting their mother in her clinic in England, mostly working with the disabled.

  One summer day, during a particularly hot stretch of August, Channy had begged D’Audra to sneak away with her to go swimming. They had already worked eight days straight for their mom without a day off, and with school beginning again in a couple of weeks Channy had an itch to visit The Hole. Given the nickname generations ago, The Hole was a secluded pond tucked away in the woods just outside of town. For years kids had ditched school, church and part-time jobs to dive into the cool, crystal-clear water fed by a small waterfall. Channy loved it, and after just a little prodding, convinced D’Audra to slip into her swimsuit and run out to The Hole. Her older sister made her promise that they would be back within two hours, no arguing or whining, and off they went.

  It would be a day Channy would never forget. D’Audra, two years older and already a terrific role model for her little sis, had been grinning as she started to leap off the rock ledge, fifteen feet over the water, anxious to prove that she could indeed reach the tree limb that jutted out several feet over the pond’s surface below. But the smooth surface of rock was now covered with water, small puddles that had collected from the water dripping off the two sisters, and Channy saw D’Audra lose control just as she planted her foot to leap toward the branch. Although it only lasted a split second, Channy would remember the moment in slow motion forever. Her sister reached back to try to grab on to her for support, but instead plummeted down the embankment, striking the rocks at the water’s edge.

  The doctors had originally said it was doubtful she would ever walk again, with the damage to her spine so severe. But D’Audra had refused to allow that possibility. Channy watched in wonder over the next year as her older sister bravely fought through two operations and countless hours of rehab work. With her mother on one side and her adoring sister on the other, D’Audra took her first painful steps again exactly thirteen months after the horrible accident at The Hole. Sheer determination and stro
ng will had ensured that the doctors would be wrong. She would walk again, and, she confided in Channy one quiet evening, she would reach that branch someday. Someday.

  But Channy Oakland would not see her do it. Her mother had received a phone call from Dr. Wallace Zimmer.

  17

  The lights were slowly dimming in the hallways. Because there was no sun to create day and night, Galahad manufactured its own twenty-four-hour day. One of the thousands of duties that Roc oversaw, the hallways and meeting places would slowly light up beginning at six o’clock. It would remain bright throughout the “day,” gradually fading to twilight by eight o’clock. The ship’s designers knew this was necessary to keep each crew member’s internal body clock properly adjusted. There would even be a slight change in the length of days as the calendar advanced, a nod to the changing seasons each passenger had left behind.

  Another touch, suggested by Dr. Armistead, was the inclusion of sounds. Earth sounds, from an occasional faint whisper of wind to the barely audible sound of crickets during the “night” hours. Roc kept each of these noises in the background, more a psychological blanket than anything else. A comfort zone, Dr. Armistead had said. Sounds of home.

  As the evening began on the eighth day, most of the crew had retired to either the Recreation Area or their own rooms. A group of ten, however, had remained in the Dining Hall after dinner, sitting at one of the large round tables. A deck of cards sat untouched at one side; finding a game that ten people could enjoy was difficult, and, besides, conversation seemed more interesting anyway.

  At first the mood had been somber as they each quietly talked about home, nods of understanding punctuating each story. They were their own support group, leaning on one another to get through the homesick feelings, the sadness, the pain. When one person expressed guilt over leaving their family behind, nine others could relate, comfort coming in the form of a touch, a soft word, even a knowing look. Gradually the stories took a turn; tears were replaced with a smile. Fond memories began to lift the spirits.

  Gap Lee was trying not to laugh. His face was mostly blank, but the corners of his mouth were cracking into a half smile. The last thing he wanted to do was appear insensitive to the story he was listening to … but it was funny. Unable to hold it back any longer, he broke out in a fit of laughing.

  Angelina Reyes looked at him sharply. “It’s not funny, Gap,” she said crossly.

  “I know,” he said, taking a breath. “But it is, kinda. I mean, you did kick her in the head, right?”

  “By accident,” Angelina shot back. “I didn’t mean to.” But by now the rest of the group had begun laughing, too. They had all wanted to, but until Gap broke the ice they had each been exercising restraint out of courtesy.

  “You know, most soccer players try to kick the ball, not the goalie’s head,” he quipped. This brought even more laughter from the others, while Angelina’s face clouded.

  “I was trying to kick the ball,” she said. “I told you, the goalie dove for it at the last second. I don’t know why you’re laughing. She could have really been hurt.”

  “But you said she wasn’t hurt that bad,” Gap said. “You said she was just a little … what was the word?”

  “Woozy,” Angelina said, and for the first time a smile creased her face, too. “They stopped the game for a couple of minutes, but she stayed in and played the rest of the way.” She looked down at the table, trying to compose herself, but eventually failing. Before she could stop herself she was laughing along with the others.

  “Yeah, she was okay, but man, was she intimidated by me after that. I scored twice in the next five minutes.”

  More laughs poured out from the teenagers. After the stress from the last few days, it felt good. It felt really good.

  Mitchell O’Connor, a thin redhead from Ireland, leaned back in his chair and put one of his feet up on the table. He looked at Angelina and said, “So, when our three-on-three soccer tournament starts, should the rest of us wear helmets when you’re on the field?”

  “It won’t matter what you wear, Mitch,” she said quickly. “I could score on you all day long.”

  A collection of “oohs” and “whoas” erupted around the table. Mitchell put his head back and laughed the hardest. He loved a good challenge, especially on the soccer field.

  The whole crew was excited about the tournament. Not only did it provide the needed exercise, but also it drew everyone together in a spirit of teamwork. During their months of preparation on Earth they had held two such tourneys, and each one seemed to strengthen the connections they shared with each other. Dr. Zimmer was thrilled, and let Channy know that her idea was terrific. He encouraged the crew to make these competitive matches a regular part of their lives. He approved of anything to keep a couple hundred kids on their toes during the long, tedious journey.

  He had reluctantly accepted their demand for the state-of-the-art Airboarding circuit, but that particular activity worried him. Speeding across the track and zipping through tight turns while hovering four inches off the ground sounded much too dangerous to both Zimmer and Bauer, but they conceded that it offered an alternative way to increase physical activity. The two scientists were more old-school and secretly hoped that soccer would hold the crew’s interest. Now, in a few days, the star travelers would gather for their first soccer tournament of the voyage. Spirits were high in anticipation.

  As the laughter subsided, Kylie Rickman pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. With a coy look she addressed her companions.

  “You know, I’ve seen the trophy.”

  “No way,” Gap said. “How?”

  “You forget that Channy is my roommate. She’s hiding it from everyone until the first champions are decided. But she’s just dying to show someone—you know how she is about keeping a secret—and the other night she pulled it out and showed me.”

  “And?” Angelina said. “What does it look like?”

  “Like I could tell you,” Kylie said.

  “Oh, c’mon,” Angelina cried. “If Channy can’t keep a secret, why should you?”

  “Sorry,” Kylie said. “I’m not telling. Not even if …” She paused, her eyes sparkling.

  “Not even if what?” Angelina said, leaning forward.

  Kylie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in mock terror. “Not even if you kicked me right in the head.”

  The group exploded in more laughter, and Angelina threw her napkin at Kylie, who ducked in time for it to fly over her. Both girls grinned at each other, enjoying the evening’s fun.

  Suddenly the red light over the Dining Hall’s vidscreen began to flash, and a soft series of tones drifted out of the speakers. It signaled an announcement that would be broadcast throughout Galahad. A moment later Triana’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Hi, everyone,” she began. Her expression was neutral, a look that most of the crew was used to by now. All ten sets of eyes in the Dining Hall were fixed on the screen, a scene that was being played out in every section of Galahad.

  “Well, we’re on our way,” Tree said. “We all knew that there would be some tough times. We knew that eventually we would all have to pull together, to help us get through some difficult situations. I just don’t think any of us thought we would be tested so soon.

  “I planned on having a meeting with the entire crew after we were about three or four weeks out. I don’t think a lot of meetings are necessary. You all know your jobs, you know what’s expected of you, and I think it’s better if you’re left alone to do those jobs. But, given the circumstances of the last few days, I’m moving our first meeting up to tomorrow morning.”

  Gap and Kylie exchanged glances. It had all of the signs of an emergency meeting, but Tree refused to label it that way. Just “a meeting.” Another sign that Dr. Zimmer knew what he was doing when he named Triana Martell to lead the mission.

  “Those of you on duty tomorrow morning will obviously be unable to attend,
but we will cover it on the vidscreens. I expect everyone else to join us at eight thirty in the Learning Center. It shouldn’t take long. Thanks, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  With that, her image faded, leaving a dark gray screen. The group in the Dining Hall sat silent for a moment, then relaxed and looked around at each other. It was Mitchell who spoke first.

  “Well, I’m working tomorrow morning. You guys have fun without me.”

  With a few exchanges of “good night” and “see you tomorrow,” the group split up and trudged out of the room. Gap Lee was the last to leave, waving his hand across the sensor that slowly cut the lights and left the room in darkness.

  Five minutes later the door to the Dining Hall opened, and a shadowy figure crept quietly inside.

  18

  The two men sat in front of the dark vidscreen. The newscast had just ended, and Dr. Zimmer had switched off the screen in disgust. Dr. Bauer looked at his boss.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s not much to discuss,” Dr. Zimmer said. “The man is crazy. He’s crazy.”

  The man was Tyler Scofield. The news had just broadcast a report from a rally that Zimmer’s old colleague had organized to protest the Galahad project. Now that the final 251 crew members had been announced Scofield was using the event to blast the mission and its director.

  “Of course he’ll get publicity for these rallies,” Dr. Bauer said. “Look, there are pockets of discontent around the world, but his group is the only one that’s united and actually taking action. The newshounds will always want to cover something that’s contrary and extremist.”

  “He’s stirring up way too much trouble,” Zimmer said. “Did you hear the phrases he used? ‘A dictator choosing his subjects?’ ‘Selection governed by ego?’ ‘Masses ignored in cowardly flight?’ Cowardly! Because he insists that attention be focused on curing Bhaktul Disease rather than on saving what little of humanity we can.” He shook his head, then pointed at the blank screen. “He’s doing everything in his power to turn public opinion against our project, and to make this some sort of personal vendetta.”