by Dom Testa
Tree okayed the changes and asked Lita to handle it.
Channy and Bon had nothing new. Bon was fidgeting, as usual, anxious to get out of the meeting and back to work.
“Wait a minute,” Tree said when it looked like things were wrapping up. “I have some news.”
The group got quiet. Tree bit her lip for a second, then looked up at them.
“When I checked my e-mail this morning,” she said, “there was a note from our … passenger.”
“What?” Gap burst out. “And you’re just now telling us?”
“I wanted to take care of all the other business first,” Tree said.
While the others sat in shock, Bon spoke up. “What did he say?”
Tree tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Well, he wants to meet with me. Alone.”
Channy put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. Are you serious?”
Tree said, “Yeah. But he was very vague. No specifics. Just a note that said ‘Let’s talk.’”
“How do you know it was him?” Lita said. “How did he sign it?”
“He didn’t. But it was him,” Tree said. “I checked the source of the e-mail. It came from one of the terminals in the Dining Hall. Sent about two o’clock this morning.”
“He likes to drift through the ship after everyone has gone to bed,” Channy said. “This guy gives me the creeps.”
Triana slowly let out her breath. “So, we need to discuss how we want to handle this.”
Gap stared at her with his mouth agape. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about meeting him alone,” he said slowly. “That’s just crazy.”
“I don’t know,” Bon said. “What better way to find out who he is and what he wants?”
“Yeah, and what better way to get Tree killed!” yelled Gap, shooting Bon a fiery glance.
“I’m sorry, but I have to agree with Gap,” Lita said. “Tree, I can’t believe you would even consider that. We have no idea who this person is. All we know is that he has caused damage already on this ship and threatened the entire crew. Meeting him alone would be just plain stupid.”
“She’s right,” Channy said. “Tree, you’re the Council Leader. You don’t just go marching off into battle alone.”
“Okay,” Bon said, “but why would he ask to meet with her? If he wanted to hurt her, wouldn’t he just wait until he found her alone? Why would he put her on alert like that? Maybe he really does just want to talk.”
Gap was seething. He stood up and leaned across the table towards Bon.
“You make me sick,” he said. “Try to think of someone else for a change, Bon. If you’re that anxious for us to make contact with him, maybe you should volunteer to meet him alone yourself.”
“Hold on a minute,” Tree said.
“I’m not sure you belong on this Council anymore,” Gap shouted at Bon, who glared back.
“Well isn’t it too bad that’s not your decision,” Bon said.
“That’s enough!” Tree said, slamming her hand down on the table. “Gap, sit down.”
Gap remained still for a few more seconds. He looked as if he wanted to climb over the table and tangle with the sullen Swede. Finally he sat back down, but didn’t take his eyes off Bon.
Tree resumed control of the meeting. “I appreciate everyone’s comments and opinions,” she said, her voice still strong and loud. “The purpose of this Council is to share thoughts and ideas to help Galahad run smoothly. I don’t expect everyone to agree with every suggestion. But—”
She looked back and forth between the two boys, who were staring each other down.
“But I don’t expect this Council to break down during debate, either. If you two can’t carry out the tasks expected of you without resorting to violence, then neither of you belongs here.”
With this, Gap looked at Tree, back at Bon, then down at the table. Bon took a deep breath and broke his gaze as well.
“Lita predicted this would happen,” Tree said in a softer tone. “This intruder is winning when we turn on each other, rather than focus on him. When we collapse as a team we give him an advantage. I don’t want to do that. Do you?”
“You’re right,” Gap said. “But this is a serious issue.”
“And that’s exactly why you were selected by Dr. Zimmer in the first place,” Tree said. “Leadership is defined by how you perform during tough times. Anyone can lead during good times.”
Lita spoke up. “If I could make a suggestion?”
“Sure,” Tree said.
“Why not invite our mystery man to a Council meeting? If we promise him that no harm will come to him, he might agree to talk with all of us.”
“I don’t know,” Channy said doubtfully. “This guy is probably infected with Bhaktul Disease. He’s not going to be rational, and it wouldn’t be smart—or safe—for us to assume that he would be. That could get someone killed.”
“Channy’s right,” Bon said. “He’s not going to talk to us rationally. He’s sick. We need to track him down.”
“And then?” Gap said. “We don’t have a jail on this ship.”
“I don’t know,” Bon said. “But for now we should take it one step at a time. Let’s find him, see how dangerous he really is, and go from there. I don’t want him loose much longer, that’s for sure. He’s already proved that he can destroy at will. If we wait and allow Bhaktul to progress even further, he might just cripple this ship. Which is why,” he said, looking back at Gap, “I think it might make sense for Tree to meet with him. Yes, he could be dangerous. But a week from now he’s going to be even more dangerous.”
Gap was about to respond when Tree cut in.
“I’m going to send a copy of the e-mail to all of you. Take a look and see if there’s anything in it that I’m not seeing. Oh, and Roc?”
“Yes?” the computer said.
“I’m also sending a copy to you. I’d like to get your opinion as well.”
“Okay,” Roc said. “I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened so far. The text of his note might support a few thoughts I have.”
Lita looked up sharply. “What does that mean? What kind of thoughts?”
“Yeah,” Gap said, “do you think you might know who this is?”
“Part of my programming did involve deductive reasoning,” Roc said. “And I’ve read every Sherlock Holmes story ever written. Unfortunately we don’t have a lot to work with. Good detectives would tell you that it’s dangerous to jump ahead without facts. But let’s say I’m taking steps with each new development. Can’t wait to see the e-mail, Tree.”
She looked around at the Council. “Are there any other questions or comments?”
“I’ll save mine,” Bon said, rising to his feet. “They apparently cause strong emotional reactions from some people.”
Without making eye contact with anyone he strode quickly from the room. Gap shook his head in disgust, but bit his tongue.
The others stood to leave. As they began to file out, Triana touched Gap’s arm and motioned for him to stay behind.
When they were alone she said to him, “Listen, I just want to say a couple of things, okay? First, thanks for what you said in this meeting. I know that you really care about what happens to me, and that … that means a lot. Not many people have ever felt that way about me.”
Gap looked down sheepishly, but didn’t say anything.
“And I want to say I’m sorry about last night, too,” she continued. “You were just being a friend, and I was … well, I was pretty cold. I guess I’m just not used to that from anyone but my dad.”
He made eye contact with her when he felt her touch his arm again. Her eyes were slightly moist. Suddenly he felt embarrassed putting her through this.
“Tree—” he said.
“I’m going to try to be a better friend, Gap. You deserve it.”
They were alone in the room, their eyes locked, and her hand resting slightly on his arm. Gap’s mind was racing, an internal debate raging.
Sorry, I’ve got to break in here. Remember that talk we had about hormones? I’m watching this beautiful scene in the Conference Room and I want to scream at Gap: Kiss her, you idiot! Kiss her! Right on the mouth! It doesn’t have to be a long, drawn-out thing. Just a quick “how-do-you-do, I’m putting my mouth on yours and what do you think of that?”
Gee, I hate to coach the guy, and I can’t really speak up, but c’mon ! Who knows, she might kiss him back. Yes, the crew is in turmoil and, yes, it looks like some crazy nut is hiding out on the ship, and yes, the carpet in this Conference Room is completely tacky, but c’mon ! If ever you had the chance, Gap, this is it. You can do it!
Gap hesitated, and in that time Triana let go of his arm and stepped around him to the door. Suddenly he was alone.
With his heart pounding he realized he’d been holding his breath. He sat down dejectedly, exhaling, and rested his head on one hand.
“Idiot,” he muttered. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. All right, enough of this. There must be some report I should be working on right now.
30
Galahad had been gone for more than a week. With most of his follow-up work either finished or on schedule, Wallace Zimmer was packing for home. Just as well, he thought; the sooner he was off this antiseptic space station and back among greenery the better. He amused himself by plotting his first real meal in weeks. Lobster, he decided, with a side dish of steaming pasta and vegetables.
The thought brightened his spirits slightly, which helped him pick up the pace of activity. His preparations to leave had been hampered by the creeping fatigue that was one of the curses of Bhaktul Disease. Ten minutes of any physical exertion now had to be followed by five or ten minutes of rest. The coughing spasms were also coming more frequently. On one level it was distressing, simply because it meant that the illness was gaining momentum within him. But it also angered the proud scientist; he had taken great pains to keep himself in good physical shape throughout his life and to be overpowered by a microscopic particle was maddening.
At this particular moment he felt weary. Into one of his large briefcases he tossed an old, worn notebook. In his office at home there were several others just like it. They were crammed with personal notes and feelings from the entire Galahad mission, starting with the selection process and finishing with the successful launch. More than two years’ worth of observations and memories, crammed into a series of old-fashioned notebooks. Some were held together with tape, all of them were a mishmash of scribbled paragraphs, scratched out sentences, arrows that referred forwards and backwards through the pages, and hastily added notes in the margins.
His computer work pad kept all of the official project notes and information; these pen and paper collections housed the tears and tales that never made it into the official reports. To anyone else they would be practically illegible, but to Dr. Zimmer it was a clear, concise description of the most important endeavor mankind had ever pulled off.
As soon as he returned to Earth he would begin to transcribe it all into a book. No matter what the outcome of the human population, it was imperative that a full account survive.
Closing the briefcase, he plopped down into the chair behind his desk. After a few deep breaths he snapped on his e-mail monitor and checked for any urgent messages. There were none, which made him both happy and sad.
Happy because it meant that Galahad was still running smoothly and apparently without trouble, regardless of Roc’s inquiries about the energy balance. Sad, however, because it was further evidence that the baby bird had flown from the nest for good. He wanted more than anything for the kids to be safe and secure, but in a perverse way he had hoped that they would somehow still need him for something.
It was the Council that had insisted on the no contact decree. Once the ship was safely away and the solar wings deployed, radio contact would cease. Roc would continue to relay some information on a daily basis, mostly to confirm course and direction, but that would be it. No calls home, the Council had decided. “What good would it do, really?” Lita had said. “We have to become independent as quickly as possible, and clinging on to Earth’s apron won’t help us do that.”
Yet Dr. Zimmer had secretly hoped for one more call. It didn’t look like it was going to happen.
31
Regardless of what Gap, Lita and Channy thought, Tree had already made up her mind. In fact, she had made up her mind long before Bon had suggested she meet the stowaway. She had made that decision as soon as she read his note.
She stood alone near the entrance to the Dining Hall, watching about three dozen crew members carrying their lunch trays and congregating at the tables in groups of three or four. The din in the room grew as more kids trickled in, greetings were exchanged and the tables began to fill up.
Several of the crew members stopped as they entered and chatted briefly with Triana. They made the usual small talk, asking how she was, how things were going, then said good-bye and sauntered over to the food dispensers. But none of them mentioned the intruder to Triana. That seemed to be a subject that was too uncomfortable for the casual atmosphere of their lunch break.
That was okay with her. After the stormy Council meeting she was only too happy to confine her conversations to more mundane topics. Besides, she realized that many of her shipmates felt a little awkward talking with her anyway, as if they were unsure what to say to their ship’s leader. This was a feeling quite familiar to Triana. Social skills had never been her strongest suit.
After glancing around the room one more time she noted that the one person she was interested in talking to hadn’t arrived yet. A quick check of the work schedule had told her that he should be part of this late lunch group, but apparently he was running behind. Triana finally decided to wait for him at a table.
Picking up a tray she stood in line at the dark gray dispensers, slowly moving along and keeping an eye on the door. Each time it opened she would look up to see who had entered, then continue to shuffle along.
A special treat greeted her when it was her turn. The usual plate of processed energy blocks was garnished with several chunks of actual fruit. She smiled as she noticed slices of apple, pear and bananas adorning one section of the plate. It seemed the crops were ahead of schedule. Bon had mentioned to the Council that it might be another week before their first fruit was ready, but she was delighted to see that today was the day.
Bon was infuriating at times, but he knew his stuff when it came to farming, she admitted to herself. Why did he have to make it so hard to like him?
Picking up her tray after filling a glass with water, Triana turned to look for a quiet spot to sit down. At that moment the door opened and Peter Meyer walked in with two other guys. All three were working a shift in the Agricultural Center and Triana could see remnants of dirt and dust on the knees of their pants. They made their way towards the stack of trays. Triana altered her path to intercept them.
“Hello, Peter,” she said, causing him to glance over at her. His two companions grew quiet.
“Hi,” Peter said.
“Listen, when you get your lunch would you mind stopping by my table over there for just a minute? I’m sorry to interrupt, but I want to ask you something.”
Peter’s face conveyed a “what have I done now?” look. He shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Triana carried her lunch over to a vacant table in the corner. She was pretty sure she would have it to herself until Peter sat down.
She was enjoying the fresh fruit when the Canadian plopped his tray across from her and pulled out a chair.
“This was a pleasant surprise,” she said to him, indicating the apple slice in her hand.
“Yeah, we finished harvesting the first few bushels yesterday,” Peter said. “Instead of an announcement we thought it would be better just to surprise everyone. Now that everything’s up and running smoothly we should have a fairly constant supply.”
“I love it,” Triana said. “When the oranges are ready I’ll just about have a cow.”
Peter smiled. “Well, you should start feeling the labor pains in two weeks or so,” he said.
Triana finished her apple and watched Peter as he spread his lunch out on the table. The last time she had seen him was during the frenzy in Sick House. Now, instead of panic, his manner was one of curiosity. She felt bad that she had dragged him away from his friends, and knew that everyone had watched him make his way over to sit with her. Undoubtedly he would be subjected to endless questions later.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I want to talk with you about that day near the Storage Section.”
Peter’s face clouded and he nervously pushed his now empty tray out of the way. Picking up his fork he speared a chunk of energy block. “Okay,” he said finally.
“For one thing,” Triana said, “You told us he said something like, ‘Are you ready to die?’ Do you remember him saying anything else?”
Peter sat still for a moment, chewing his food. His brow wrinkled as he thought.
“I … I really don’t remember,” he told her. “I don’t think so.”
Triana nodded. “What was he doing when you saw him? Was he just walking along, or was he standing there?”
“Well, he was just standing there when I came around the corner. His back was to me, and he was pretty much in the shadows, but …”
“But what?”
“Well … I can’t be sure, but I think he had just stood up. Like he had been down on one knee or something.”
Triana digested this for a minute. As she took her last bite of fruit she looked back up at Peter.
“So he obviously heard you coming around the corner. Maybe you startled him. Maybe … maybe interrupted him from something.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Hmm,” Triana said, deep in thought. What would an intruder have been doing on the floor in that section?
“Peter, where exactly did you see him? I mean, exactly where in that section?”
“Well, I was coming up on the window around the corner from the lift. I was trying to get a view of the moon, and I knew that there was a big window in that hallway, the one just before you get to the Spider bay. I can’t say exactly, but I’d guess I was maybe halfway between the lift and the observation window.”
