by Dom Testa
More laughter from the group, with several people hissing and pointing at the three daredevils in the crowd.
When the auditorium began to quiet again, Triana’s look turned serious.
“But there’s no use acting like everything is normal. We all know about the encounter that Peter reported.”
Most of the crew members recognized that the word “encounter” was a respectful way to acknowledge the incident, and a thoughtful gesture to Peter, who was sitting somewhere among the sea of faces.
“I also sent a mass e-mail regarding an historical coin that Gap found down by the Storage Sections,” Tree continued. “No one has replied, so I’m assuming it does not belong to any crew member.”
The room was now deadly silent, with only the faint breath of the ventilators recharging the air.
“And you all know about the crude graffiti. All of this has made our first week uneasy. The worst part is that we don’t know who is responsible for any of this.”
In the auditorium a few heads nodded slowly, but no one made a sound. Tree glanced down at the Council in the front row, then back up at the anxious crew members staring at her.
“While we don’t know anything concrete right now, I can tell you this much. Roc has finished gathering data from our ship records and performed a few calculations based on some new information from Lita. He’s informed me that the ship’s energy readings are slightly out of whack. Since then he’s eliminated a couple of possibilities, and right now believes strongly that the most likely explanation”—Tree paused ever so slightly—“is an additional person somewhere on Galahad.”
She expected a rush of noise, the sound of two hundred people exclaiming surprise and alarm. But the room remained eerily quiet. Had they all been so sure of this announcement that the meeting itself was anticlimactic? Or were they frozen with fear?
Looking at their faces individually, she realized her mistake. They were not paralyzed by fear; they were simply waiting for her to lead. They trusted her judgment and valued her leadership skills. The crew of Galahad was on the alert, awaiting instructions from their general. She was immediately awash with a sense of pride.
Triana placed both hands on the podium. “I will be meeting with the rest of the Council to discuss security procedures. Obviously this is not something that we—or Dr. Zimmer—ever planned on. But every one of you will be kept fully informed of each move we make. We don’t conduct secret operations on this ship. Our job on the Council is to lead, but your input and suggestions will be welcome at any time. Are there any questions?”
A few hands went up. One girl asked about leaving the lights on daylight mode at all times. No, this would not happen yet.
Another girl wanted to know if Roc had any thoughts about who the intruder could be? One of the workers who helped build Galahad, maybe? It would be useless to guess at this point, Tree told her.
A boy in the back of the room raised his hand and asked if there was a chance they might turn back for Earth.
“No,” Tree said firmly. “It would take weeks to reorient the ship for a trip back to Earth. Then who knows how long it might take to launch again. We could lose as much as a year or two. That’s not an option.
“Besides,” she said, her voice growing even stronger. “We will not rely on Earth to fix our problems. We can’t run home to Mommy every time something comes up. We’d better get used to the fact that we are responsible for ourselves. If someone wants to mess with us, they obviously don’t know who they’re dealing with.”
There was a moment’s pause, then the sound of three or four people clapping. In seconds the entire room was engulfed with the applause. The crew of Galahad was on its feet, clapping and whistling, ready to take on the enemy. Ready for Triana to lead them.
In the front row, Lita cheered. Galahad might be in trouble.
But it was in good hands.
22
With five weeks to go before the launch Dr. Zimmer had arrived at the space station with Dr. Bauer. Dr. Armistead had remained behind to wrap up any last details at the training complex and to escort the crew when it was their time to leave. In another eight days they would all be brought into space and housed inside the Incubator for the final month.
Zimmer was anxious about some last-minute changes that had become necessary on Galahad. Construction had proceeded at lightning speed, and for the most part it would be ready to go when the time came.
The agricultural domes were finished and already sported some crops basking in the artificial sunlight. Seeds and plants from around the world continued to arrive daily. A few of the insects that had been approved for the trip—bees to assist pollination and earthworms to help aerate the soil and produce fertilizer—were hard at work and apparently content in their new home.
The Storage Sections were filling up and almost ready to be sealed. Dr. Bauer was primarily in charge of this department, and had agreed with Dr. Zimmer that keeping them locked until the crew reached Eos was crucial. “Don’t even give them the chance to ransack the supplies that they’ll need when they arrive,” Bauer had said. “It’s easy to say now that they’ll stay out on their own, but who knows what will be going through their minds after a year or two in isolation. Not even these kids are perfect.” With a scowl he added, “Believe me, no kids are.” Zimmer found it hard to believe that the crew would ransack anything, but nodded agreement.
The crew’s apartments were also finished, sitting vacant and awaiting their personal finishing touches. All of the water recycling plants were functioning, the air recycling system was in good shape, and Roc was already skimming through checklist after checklist to make certain that the launch would be successful.
Yet Zimmer wasn’t naïve enough to think that everything would be perfect. And it wasn’t.
“Tell me again why we only have eight Spiders, and not ten,” he said to the tall, thin man sitting across from his desk.
“Listen, I can put all ten of them on board,” the design engineer said, “but I’m telling you that only eight of them will work.”
His name was Sun Koyama. For almost two years his team had worked day and night, designing, building and assembling the largest craft ever conceived. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and was in no mood to be lectured by anyone.
“Where was the slipup?” Zimmer said.
“This is not a slipup. I told Dr. Bauer months ago that the company responsible for the internal fittings on the Spiders was in trouble. Their workforce is dwindling, people are dropping out with Bhaktul or just quitting to be with their families, and the same thing is happening with their suppliers. They put all of their remaining staff to work and have eight Spiders finished. The other two are just empty shells. If you ask me, we should be grateful we got eight.”
Zimmer sighed. Koyama was right, of course. It was a miracle that work on Galahad had gone as smoothly as it had. Companies around the world were shutting down as their employees became ill, and motivation was a problem. After all, it wasn’t their children who were being placed aboard the spacecraft. Many were starting to ask, “Why am I doing this?”
Now Galahad would launch with two fewer escape crafts than originally planned. The egg-shaped vehicles were to serve several purposes. For one thing they could be used to maneuver outside the spaceship in case any repairs were necessary. They were fitted with multiple arms, some designed to lift large, bulky objects, and others specially made for smaller precision work. With the arms extended they almost resembled an insect, and it wasn’t long before they were simply called Spiders.
They were also the vehicles that would transport the crew to the surface when Galahad reached its destination. Each Spider was built to accommodate up to thirty passengers, so losing two meant that arrangements would have to be made. Dr. Zimmer scribbled a few notes on his workpad and looked at his calendar. Launch was scheduled in thirty-eight days.
“All right,” he said to Koyama. “I want to go ahead and load all ten of them. These
last two can still fly, right?”
“Yes, they’ll fly,” the engineer said. “But they can’t support life inside.”
“Well, who knows, the kids might need them for spare parts, or something,” Zimmer said. “No sense leaving them docked here at the station.”
Koyama grunted a reply and left. His job was nearly finished and he was ready to go home.
Alone in his office, Zimmer coughed loudly and noticed the taste of blood.
23
Of all the stuff I’ve got crammed inside my chips, let me tell you something I’m glad I don’t have: hormones.
I’m very familiar with the human need for acceptance and friendship and companionship. But this whole “love” thing has me a little baffled. I’ve read everything I can find about it, I’ve asked Roy—that was a big mistake—and I’ve even tried listening to some of the most popular love songs. Thank goodness computers can’t hurl. Humans are such a tortured bunch, aren’t they?
And from some of the eavesdropping I’ve done, I will be completely amazed if we throw 251 teenagers into a spaceship and go five years without some drama.
Two dozen crew members were scattered at tables around the Dining Hall. They had begun streaming in as the lights gently came up, and now, at seven o’clock, breakfast was under way. The sound of muted conversation mingled with the scrapes and clinks of glasses and silverware. Every few seconds another cluster of teens would walk in, either wiping the remnants of sleep out of their eyes, or glowing with the effects of a morning workout.
Channy scurried in behind Lita and tapped her on the shoulder. Lita, just reaching for a tray, turned and smiled.
“Wow, I can’t believe how quickly you can get here after leading the morning workout. I could never get ready that fast.”
“You should chop off your hair like me,” Channy said. “Now I can be ready almost as fast as a boy.” She picked up her own tray and fixed Lita with a hard look. “Speaking of workouts—”
“Yes, I know,” Lita said. “I wasn’t being lazy, though. I was actually at work.”
“Someone sick?”
“No. Sick House is empty this morning. I was just checking a few things for Roc.”
Channy picked up an energy block, then changed her mind and exchanged it with another. “I need to get out of this rut,” she explained to Lita. “I can’t have raspberry every morning. Today I’m definitely apple.”
“You’re a rebel.”
“So, what’s up with Roc? He can’t do his own work, or what?”
Lita filled a glass with simulated orange juice. “No, we just used the, uh, incident with Peter Meyer to check our energy levels. It’s possible that excess stress might throw the levels out of whack compared to normal readings. Multiply that times two hundred fifty people and it might make a big difference.”
“And?”
“It didn’t, really. At least not any more than we thought. I fed the new info to Roc just a few minutes ago.”
The two girls found a table and sat down.
“I thought Roc had already decided it was the stowaway who was throwing off the readings,” Channy said. “What does he want with this new information?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s trying to … I don’t know, maybe identify the person.”
Channy raised her eyebrows. “What? You mean use the energy readings like a fingerprint or something?”
“Yeah,” Lita said, “something like that. Or at least narrow it down to where he can say it’s a forty-year-old man or sixty-five-year-old.” She took a bite of her energy block and looked across the table at her fellow Council member.
“You know, Channy, he’s the same ol’ Roc every time. And I know this sounds stupid, because he is a machine, after all, but …”
She paused. Channy kept quiet, silently chewing her food.
“But somehow I get a weird feeling from him, like he’s … I don’t know … worried, maybe?” She brushed her lips with a napkin. “As I said, I know it sounds stupid.”
Channy swallowed some juice, then wiped her mouth. “Oh, I don’t know. Roy put an awful lot of himself into that machine. I don’t see why some of his real personality couldn’t have leaked into it.”
“Now you’re sounding as silly as I am,” Lita said with a laugh. “Listen, forget I even said anything. I was probably just tired. He got me up and into Sick House at five o’clock.”
“Hmm. You should have been working out.”
“Hey, I’ll hit one of the afternoon groups. They’re usually more fun anyway.”
“Cuter guys, too,” Channy said, grinning. “I know one in particular who probably wishes you would take an afternoon session permanently.”
“Oh, here we go.” Lita shook her head. “Your Cupid outfit is showing again.”
“Hey, I think I’m pretty good at matching people up,” Channy said. “Believe me, I see people at their best and their worst. Mixing and matching is easy when you see both sides. The only person I can’t figure out is Tree. She’s a mystery. I have no idea who might be perfect for her.”
Lita ate her breakfast thoughtfully. “Well, she might be quiet and tough-acting, but she’s still a girl. It’s not like she doesn’t have a heart.”
Channy had her juice halfway to her mouth and stopped, slowly putting it back down on the table. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Why didn’t I think of that? You’re probably closer to her than anyone else. Are you holding out on me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“C’mon, girl. If you know something about the Ice Queen, then spill.”
Lita laughed out loud. “Channy, you crack me up. First of all, if I did know something, I probably would just send everyone an e-mail. It’s a faster way to spread information to the whole crew than telling you. Not much faster, but a little.”
Channy stuck her tongue out playfully.
“But,” Lita said, “that ‘Ice Queen’ label isn’t fair, either. I told you, Triana has a heart. She might not show it, but she can have feelings for someone. I think she does, in fact.”
“Well?” Channy leaned forward. “Out with it.”
“No, Channy. Look, I don’t know for sure. It’s just a hunch, really. A few things here and there that she’s let drop about someone. I think she’s attracted to him, but she’s too wrapped up with the mission to take a step.”
Picking up her tray, Channy stood and downed the last of her juice. “Well, if she’s got the hots for someone, I’ll figure it out.” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I always do.”
Lita laughed again and rose to her feet. “I should have known better than to say anything to you.”
Channy started toward the door, calling back over her shoulder. “Hold out on me, Lita, and I’ll work you out this afternoon until you’re down on one knee.”
Smiling, Lita followed her out the door, and two other kids moved into the spot they had vacated. Sitting at the next table, with his back to them, Gap Lee sat quietly, digesting not his breakfast, which sat untouched, but what he had just overheard.
Not even his early morning run had caused his heart to race like it was right now.
24
This is not a pleasure cruise.”
Dr. Wallace Zimmer had said this so many times during their training that it became a running joke with the crew. Whenever it seemed as if the young would-be space explorers were losing their focus, the scientist would sigh heavily and explain—again—the importance of being prepared.
“You can’t come back for follow-up training, you know,” he would preach. “If you think this is just some pleasure cruise or a quick vacation, you’re wrong.”
The five Council members took his message to heart, and even decided to have a little fun with him. He had scheduled a final meeting with them, the day before they entered the Incubator. It would be their last visit with anyone outside of their group. Zimmer had dreaded this moment for a long time. These star travelers had become the children he had never h
ad. Too busy with his career and studies to pursue a serious relationship, he had never married. He was close to fifty before he looked up from his work to realize that a lifetime of educational opportunities had prevented him from exploring a life with another person.
The time he had spent with Galahad’s crew had filled that vacancy in his life.
He entered the room, notes in hand, ready to swallow his deep personal sorrow and maintain a strong, professional image for the teens. He stopped short in the doorway, his mouth falling open. Then he dropped his notes to the floor.
All five members of the Council were standing there, decked out in beach clothes: swimsuits, sunglasses, Hawaiian shirts and more. Gap and Channy had life preservers hanging from their necks, and even the ever-serious Bon had a straw hat on his head.
Channy stepped forward, took the gray-haired man by the hand and told him, “We’re ready for our pleasure cruise, Dr. Zimmer.”
With that, he broke down. After devoting almost three years of his life to Galahad and its young crew, his work was over. He cried, the tears beginning slowly, and then escalating into uncontrollable sobs. Channy brought him over to a chair, and the Council gathered around, some sitting on the floor by his feet, the others in chairs next to him. Soon everyone was either crying or fighting back tears. The realization that this was good-bye was overwhelming.
Wallace Zimmer decided to cry himself out. There was nothing for which he needed to save his tears. The disease from Comet Bhaktul had begun settling in him, and although he hid the symptoms from the crew members, he knew that it would not be long before he was bedridden. He calculated that he would be gone before Galahad was beyond Neptune. These kids were the closest people in his life, and when they left he fully believed that his will to live would be leaving with them. The beginning of their mission would mark the end of his.
For almost five minutes he wept. The Council members were patient, willing to devote any amount of time to this father figure. Finally, he looked into the eyes of each of them and managed to say, “Are you ready?”
