by Dom Testa
4
The posters on the wall no longer produced feelings of grief or sorrow. Now they had become like pictures in a colorful encyclopedia, capturing the spirit of the nature scenes they portrayed, but in an almost clinical, detached way. Even the photos of familiar locations seemed to have lost their personal vibration, and were slowly dissolving into a visual form of background noise.
Triana took a moment’s rest from her daily journal entry and pondered the point. The beautiful prints of her favorite Colorado scenes had adorned the walls of her room since the first day, and offered the only solace she had known in the first weeks after the launch. Alone, lonely, and sad, she had escaped to this room, to sift through her thoughts, to absorb the gravity of her responsibilities.
And to remember her father.
An early victim of Bhaktul’s Disease, he had been cruelly snatched from Triana before she really knew what was happening. He had been the most important influence in her life, guiding her, teaching her, watching her grow as a young woman. Her relationship with her mother had been almost nonexistent, and when given the choice between that chilly association and a ticket on Galahad, Triana said her quiet goodbyes to her father’s memory and elected to join the mission to the stars.
A mission which, for her, was mostly an opportunity to run as far away as possible from the pain on Earth. The mission director, Dr. Wallace Zimmer, quickly deduced Triana’s motivation, and gently challenged her to face the future, rather than shrink from the past.
As the Council Leader, she was the sole crew member to have a room to herself, which meant all of the decorating decisions were hers alone. Now those early choices didn’t seem to hold the same power they once had.
And, Triana decided, that was okay. In her mind it meant that she had accepted the harsh reality of the past three years, and had—in some ways, at least—made peace with the universe.
She bent over the journal and added a few final thoughts.
It’s strange how my memories of Earth, of my former life, have faded. It’s hard to remember anything about school, or my sports teams, or even most of my friends. In some ways it feels like that was somebody else, some other Triana, and not me. Why can’t I remember these things better than I do? Am I trying to forget? Is it some kind of healing process, a sort of emotional bandage?
The one thing that doesn’t fade, of course, is Dad. He’s been gone for more than two years, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he walked through the door right now. I can remember everything about him: his eyes, his laugh, even his smell. I’m glad those memories are the ones that have stuck with me. And I hope they always will.
Triana took a final glance at the written words, then sat back and ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. It suddenly occurred to her that what she really needed at the moment was a good workout, something to blast her out of the melancholy mood that had settled over her. Channy was very good at that.
But there was still a bit of business to attend to. “Roc,” she called out. “Got a minute?”
The computer voice responded immediately. “I’ve noticed recently that we only seem to talk when you want to talk. This relationship is tilted, I think. I’m feeling a bit used.”
“Oh, hush,” Triana said with a smile. “You’re such a drama queen sometimes.”
“Pretty good, wasn’t it?” Roc said. “I’ve been waiting to use those lines since I heard them in a movie, and I figured this was the best chance I was going to get anytime soon. I think my delivery needs work. Was it too bold?”
“You could use some lessons on how to effectively pout. I suppose they didn’t program that into you, eh?”
“I’ll study up on that,” the computer said. “By the way, before I forget, you have two messages that have come in from Earth.”
Triana raised her eyebrows. “Two?”
“Uh-huh. But neither is marked urgent, so let’s take care of your business, then I’ll leave you alone to check your mail.”
Triana wondered just how “alone” she could really be. In fact, she had chuckled when Channy and Lita had debated that very point recently, wondering how much privacy they could ever expect from a computer presence that could be everywhere at once.
“Okay, let’s talk about our passage through the Kuiper Belt,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I’m concerned about the amount of warning time we’ll get if a large object cuts across our path. What’s your best guess?”
“Impossible to answer.”
Triana sat quietly, waiting for more, but it didn’t appear to be forthcoming.
“That’s it?” she said. “That’s the best you’ve got for me? ‘Impossible to answer?’”
“You can’t see me shrug, of course, because I’m just a disembodied computer voice. But I want you to visualize me shrugging right now.”
“You’re so helpful.”
“I’m honest, that’s all. Would you like an abbreviated explanation?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Okay. The problem with impact warning time in the Kuiper Belt is actually three problems rolled into one. First, we have no map to go by. We’re talking gobs of space out here, none of it explored before, and suddenly we’re driving a tour bus right through the middle. At an extremely rapid rate of speed, I might add. We’re crazy tourists with the pedal to the metal, zipping through without even stopping to buy a t-shirt or refrigerator magnet. We have no idea what’s ahead, behind, above, or below. We’re flying blind.
“But then you throw in part two of the equation: course adjustments. Each time we make a minor change to avoid something in our path, we have to throw out all of the work we’ve done to analyze the space coming up. And again, it’s coming up very quickly.”
Triana leaned forward onto the desk, resting her chin on one fist. “And number three?”
“Number three really throws a monkey wrench into things. Since our early warning system is scanning ahead as far as possible for upcoming large objects, we’re scribbling a map of sorts as we go along. But these big chunks of rock and ice aren’t playing nice. They tend to bump into one another, and bounce off into wild trajectories, and we can’t predict those. So, while it looks like a boulder the size of New York City is going peacefully on its way parallel to us, it could easily collide with another boulder—let’s call this one London—and suddenly tear right across our path.”
Roc sat silent for a few seconds before adding, “Number three is my favorite. It’s the nasty part of the equation, and the most likely to blow us to smithereens.”
Triana grunted. “That’s nice.”
“Oh, maybe I should take those pouting lessons from you.” This elicited a laugh from the Council Leader. “Okay, I’ll try to handle our death-defying trip through the obstacle course with a bit more humor.”
“Remember one thing, though,” Roc said. “You have an amazing, incredible, stupendous advantage on your side. Me.”
“I feel so much better.”
“I’m shrugging again, just so you know.”
Triana stood up and stretched. “The truth is, Roc, I’m very confident in your trailblazing abilities through the Kuiper Belt. I just wish you could help with some of the potential landmines we might have inside the ship.”
“You’re talking about Merit Simms, of course.”
Triana was stunned. She walked around the desk, her mouth open. “How…how could you possibly know what I was talking about?”
“Because I’ve listened to some of his speeches. I can do that even while I’m working, you know. I’m very good at multi-tasking, if you hadn’t noticed. If I could chew gum or walk, I would astonish you.”
“You already astonish me,” she said. “But, yeah, you’re right. Merit might be simply a noise maker right now, but I’m starting to get a little concerned about where that noise might lead.”
“I’ll keep my ears open. Would you like for me to record any speeches he makes?”
Triana didn’t answer
at first. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Uh…I’m not sure I like the precedent that sets. I don’t know if I can rightfully use the ship’s computer to spy on one of our crew members.”
Roc said, “Well, c’mon, it’s not spying. I have just as much right to listen to his speeches as any other member of the crew. Just consider me a scout, observing the lay of the land, and reporting back to the general.”
There was more silence as Triana mulled this over. “No,” she said a moment later. “I’m not ready to go that far. Not yet, anyway.” She paused, then added, “Besides, I have a feeling he’s not going to keep too many secrets. He seems to really feed off the attention.”
“Suit yourself,” Roc said. “Just let me know if you need my help.”
“You know I appreciate that. Now, I better check out those messages.”
She leaned over the desk and keyed in her personal account code on the screen. The two new messages sat at the top of her Received box. The first, from Galahad Command, was the first note from Earth in more than a month. The second message listed a Sender address that Triana recognized with a start. She had seen that same address four months earlier.
It was from Dr. Zimmer.
She reached for her chair and slowly sat down. It would be another video message from Galahad’s director, recorded before his death shortly after the ship had launched. In his previous communication he had mentioned that she would be receiving these clips at various intervals during the voyage.
A twinge of sadness swept over Triana. Although she was anxious to hear what her mentor had to say, she decided to take care of business first. She opened the email from Galahad Command and quickly read through the standard greeting and technical stamp. The remaining portion of the message was not surprising.
As the mission has now reached the Kuiper Belt, communication from Galahad Command will come to a close. You can expect one final transmission from Earth, which will include any final course correction information. Distances between Galahad and Earth now make it impractical to continue dialogue. Therefore, staffing at Command has been reduced to bare minimum, and the center will close its doors within the next six months. We trust that all is well, and wish you health and happiness as you pursue this historic goal.
It was exactly as Triana had expected. One more message would be forthcoming from Earth, and then all contact with their former lives would be severed. They would truly be on their own. She exhaled deeply, copied the message to share with the rest of the Council, then braced herself for the video from Dr. Zimmer.
With a couple of quick strokes the screen went black, then brightened to show the haggard face of the man who had taken a shy Colorado girl under his wing and placed her in command of the most incredible exploration mission ever conceived. The pang of sadness swept through Triana again.
“Well, Tree,” Dr. Zimmer’s message began, “this time it shouldn’t be a shock for you to see my face. As I mentioned last time, there will be a series of recorded messages from me over the duration of your journey. In fact, they are being downloaded into your system, and I’m entrusting Roc with playing them for you on the schedule that I have laid out. You will obviously age as the mission progresses, while I will maintain my dashing good looks.”
Triana smiled at the scientist’s attempt to break the ice with humor. Dr. Zimmer had never been known for any comic talents, but it was obvious that he wanted to put her at ease. She felt her usual warm affection for the man flood back in.
“I won’t take up much of your time,” he said, “but there are three items that I would like to quickly discuss.
“As you watch this, you are seven months out from Earth, and are beginning to cut through a potentially dangerous leg of the trip. We know so very little about the Kuiper Belt, but every scrap of information we’ve ever compiled is resting in your computer banks. I can tell you that Roc will do a terrific job in helping you knife your way through the maze of objects that are bouncing around out there, and I’m sure you will pop out the other side without any harm coming to the ship.”
Dr. Zimmer shifted in his seat, and took on a serious expression. “The biggest danger might come from within, Triana, and that’s the second item I think we should discuss.”
He had her attention. Triana sat forward in her chair, both elbows resting on her knees, her gaze locked onto the vidscreen.
“As you know, we spent months hand-selecting the crew of Galahad. We examined each and every candidate, over and over again, and did everything in our power to assemble a team that would not only succeed at any challenge thrown their way, but would work together as smoothly as could be expected.
“But no system is perfect, and by now I would imagine that there are a handful of issues that are unfortunately occupying your time. My biggest fear throughout the planning of this mission was that complacency might start to set in. You’ve been at it for more than half a year, and it’s only natural that either boredom or fatigue will start to take its toll. One of your primary responsibilities, as the leader of the Council, is to rally the crew when you see any sign of a letdown. Enlist the help of your fellow Council members, and impress upon them the importance of maintaining a sharp edge. Believe me, you’ll need that edge at times when you least expect it.”
Triana found herself nodding. In one of his usual gruff conversations, Bon had mentioned that there were signs of complacency in his department, and, he had suggested, throughout the ship.
Dr. Zimmer coughed into a handkerchief, and a brief look of pain creased his face. Triana knew that as this was being recorded, Bhaktul’s Disease was quickly draining the life from the noted scientist. She bit her lip and waited for him to continue.
“I’m also concerned about crew relations. As I mentioned, teamwork was one of the most important ingredients that we looked for during our crew search. But time and stress can have a damaging effect on anyone, and your crew will be vulnerable to stresses that most of us could never imagine.
“That means you’ll likely be called upon in the near future to manage conflict, and—I’m afraid to say—some of it could be rather nasty. Tempers will flare, nerves will be stretched to the breaking point, and all of your leadership skills will be put to the test. I can’t tell you how to handle each potential crisis, because there are so many possibilities. But I can tell you this.”
His face softened a bit, as if he realized that the message was serious enough. “You were chosen to lead this mission, Triana, because you possess the temperament necessary to maintain balance and order within the ranks. Whether they are openly friendly to you or not, the crew respects you. Remember that. Remember, also, that they have put their faith in you to make decisions that are reasonable and fair. And, with 250 people come 250 opinions and feelings. Finding that fair position might seem tough, if not impossible sometimes.
“But you can do it.”
Triana smiled at the image of Dr. Zimmer, and blinked back a tear. His talks with her had never come across as phony rah-rah cheers; he appealed to the intellectual side of her management skills, and it worked.
“That’s all I can really say about that,” he said. “Just do your best to consider all of the opinions that are voiced, no matter how crazy they may sound on the surface. A hasty decision is often the wrong decision. And, no matter what, be completely honest with the crew. That’s where trust is earned.”
He shifted again in his seat, and yet this time Triana sensed that it wasn’t a physical discomfort as much as a reluctance to share something with her. Whatever was coming was obviously difficult for the man to talk about.
“Triana,” he began, then paused, as if changing his mind. But a look of resolve soon crossed his face. “I’m afraid that I owe you an apology. I have always prided myself on being completely open and honest with those closest to me, and that includes you, my dear.”
Triana stared into his video eyes. She knew this man well, and knew that something big was about to be revealed. Her mind raced.
Now Triana was baffled. Dr. Wallace Zimmer had always been a beacon of moral decency, somebody that she respected completely. What could he possibly have done?
He rubbed his chin, an obvious sign of nerves. “Triana, I told you—told everyone, for that matter—that I thought of you kids as the family I never had. That wasn’t…entirely truthful. I do have a child of my own. And…”
Dr. Zimmer let out a long sigh before finishing. “And that child is a crew member on Galahad.”
5
The news reports that surrounded my debut used the word ‘sophisticated.’ I had just been introduced to the media at Galahad Command, and Roy Orzini, my so-called creator, patiently described to the cameras my function on the ship. The next thing you know, these breathless reporters turned to the camera and announced that I’m the most sophisticated thinking machine ever designed.
That’s a lot of pressure on me, you know? YOU try being the most sophisticated whatever of all time, and see how you hold up.
Yet all of my sophistication doesn’t help me understand this romance stuff that you humans struggle with. Take Gap, for instance. I can try to assist him with his Engineering duties, and I can help him exercise his mind when we play a game of Masego.
But to impress his new girlfriend he takes her to the Airboard track. Makes zero sense to me.
Why wouldn’t you just sit and discuss how gravitational fields in Einstein’s theory of relativity impact the Euclidean properties of physical space? Sheesh, that seems like a no-brainer to me.
He swore that he could feel the magnetic pulse before even entering the room. Roc insisted that he was imagining it, but Gap had always believed that it was part of his natural instinct when it came to Airboarding, one of the traits that made him among the very best on Galahad.
