by Dom Testa
Mika broke eye contact and looked back up at the vidscreen. A moment later she spoke in her quiet voice. “I will continue to do my job here in the Control Room, and you’ll have no trouble from me.” She looked back at Triana. “But if the crew is allowed to vote on a change, I will vote for a return to Earth.”
The two girls stared at each other. Triana felt like continuing the debate, but realized that this was not the time, nor the place. Instead, she summoned all of her will and offered a smile to Mika. “No matter what you decide, I want you to know that I appreciate all of the hard work you’ve done.”
She turned on her heel and walked back to Gap. He watched her face closely, scanning back and forth from eye to eye. “So, what did you say to her?” he said in a whisper.
Triana sighed. “Just had a little chat. There’s no problem.”
“No problem? She’s wearing a symbol that says she’s part of a mutiny. I’d say that’s a problem.”
“It’s not a mutiny.”
“Not yet,” Gap said. “But you heard Merit. He pretty much said that if we don’t agree with him, he and his pals could resort to force.”
Triana shook her head. “I’m not ready to believe that yet. Listen, he’s very good at manipulation. Don’t let him prod you into doing something.”
“Like Bon?”
“Exactly. For now, let’s not give anyone a reason to distrust the Council. Agreed?”
Gap glanced over at Mika, who was calmly going about her business. “Yeah, okay. But you know what scares me the most?”
Before Triana could answer, the intercom in the Control Room buzzed. Lita’s voice called out, “Triana, are you in there?”
With a quick snap of a button the Council Leader answered. “What is it?”
“I know you’ve had your hands full, but I need you in Sick House right away.”
Triana began to question the urgency, but realized that everyone in the Control Room would be able to hear. Instead she told Lita that she would be there in two minutes, then asked Gap to keep an eye on things.
“What do you think that’s about?” he said in a whisper. Triana looked into his eyes.
“I’m afraid it’s probably about Alexa. And if Lita is calling me like that, it can’t be good.”
At first Triana began to sprint down the corridor toward Sick House, but then realized that in the current climate it might be a bit unsettling to the crew for her to be rushing anywhere. She slowed to a brisk walk, and made a conscious effort to keep any sign of panic off her face. Strong, she told herself, be strong.
The door to Sick House swished open. There was no one in the outer room, no sign of Lita at her desk. With a pang Triana noted that Alexa’s desk also sat unoccupied. “Hello,” she called out.
“In here,” came Lita’s voice from the adjoining room. It functioned as the hospital ward of Galahad, with twenty beds lining the walls. With the exception of the harrowing encounter around Saturn and Titan, when twelve of the beds had been in use, the room was usually quiet. Now, however, Lita and two of her part-time assistants were clustered around Alexa Wellington, who was lying unconscious, her head propped up with extra pillows. With soft steps Triana came up beside Lita. The two assistants finished their duties and left the room.
“What happened to her?” Triana said.
Lita kept her attention on Alexa. “Her roommate found her on the floor of their room. She apparently passed out from the pain. Probably…” She paused, and swallowed hard.
“Probably trying to get ready for work, forcing herself to tough it out.”
Triana bit her lip. “Have you found out anything yet?”
“I’m waiting on two tests, but my guess is that it’s her appendix.”
“Her appendix? Does that mean…” Triana’s voice trailed off. Lita nodded, her voice low and trembling. “It means that I’ll probably have to operate. And soon.”
All Triana could think to do was to put a hand on her friend’s forearm. She kept quiet for a moment before saying, “Is…is there anything you need me to do?”
“Not that I can think of at the moment,” Lita said. She sighed heavily and reached out with a hand to gently stroke Alexa’s cheek. “I should never have let her talk me out of those tests. If I had—”
“Stop that,” Triana said, squeezing Lita’s arm. “You couldn’t have known what was going on.”
“I should have admitted her to the ward without an argument, that’s what I should have done.”
“You would still have to operate on her.”
There was silence between them for a while. When Lita finally turned to face Triana, she did so with tears in her eyes. “I’m scared, Tree.”
Once again Triana could think of no words for the moment. She stepped forward and pulled Lita into a hug, fighting to keep the tears from her own eyes.
It was happening again. Another crisis, another challenge, another…
Another test? Was that what this was all about? Was there some cosmic power that was testing their strength, their will? How much more could they take?
Triana stopped herself. This was no time to begin wallowing in pity. Alexa was seriously ill, and Lita had suddenly been thrust into a position that Triana recognized all too well: the responsibility for another’s life. The only thing to do now was to rally around her friend and offer every ounce of strength that she could summon. She pushed Lita back to arm’s length and looked into her eyes.
“You know you can do this, right?” Triana said. “Dr. Zimmer knew that you were the right person for this job, and I have no doubt of it.”
Another tear slipped down Lita’s face. She brushed it away and stared back at Triana, then nodded. “Yes, I can do this.” After some hesitation, she added, “I guess…listen, this made me do some thinking about…our situation.”
“What do you mean?”
Lita seemed unsure of how to continue. She looked down for a moment. “Don’t be angry at me for saying this, but I’ve been thinking about what Merit said.” She looked back up. “With everything that is happening, I mean…”
Triana felt her breath grow short. “You’re upset, Lita. That’s all.”
“I’m not saying that I agree with him. But suddenly I’m thinking about it, you know?”
“Okay,” Triana said slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. We’ll talk about it, all right? But let’s get through this emergency with Alexa first. Agreed?”
Lita nodded, and lowered her gaze again.
Triana forced a smile. “Good. I want to be here when it’s time. When will you be ready?”
“I have to be ready right now,” Lita said. “We can’t wait any longer. We’ll get her prepped and into surgery within an hour.” She let out a deep breath. “I’ll call you before we start.”
Triana left Sick House and walked toward the lift, her mind a whirlwind of competing issues. The news about Alexa was disturbing enough. The crew would undoubtedly react with shock, and that would only empower Merit even more. Now Lita had expressed her own doubts about the mission.
Triana had taken for granted that the Council would remain unified in the conflict with Merit. But if one member had concerns, did that mean they all did? How could she know? Or, Triana wondered, was she overreacting to one isolated incident? Lita’s uncertainty could probably be written off to stress.
Probably.
15
When Dr. Wallace Zimmer had championed the building of the lifeboat called Galahad, he had envisioned a community that sustained itself through smart management of resources, recycling, and sophisticated agricultural techniques to keep the crew healthy and well fed. Various engineers and consultants had devised the most efficient farming systems ever imagined, and placed the ship’s crops beneath the glistening domes that were simply named 1 and 2.
The systems, however, required delicate yet consistent management in order to produce the bounty needed to fuel the crew. Dr. Zimmer had been grateful that Bon Hartsfield had emerged fro
m the thousands of mission candidates as the only person truly qualified to run the farms. And he had been tolerant of Bon’s gruff personality; to Dr. Zimmer it lent an edge to the Council that was otherwise missing, an element that others might not understand, and yet was—to Zimmer—indispensable.
At the moment Bon was training that gruff personality upon a small electric tractor that had chosen to take the day off. It sat, unmoving, amid a row of bean plants. The farm worker who had been maneuvering it through the crop had spent fifteen minutes attempting to restart the tractor, then had surrendered the effort and summoned Galahad’s Director of Agriculture. It was one of the minor duties that Bon understood to be his responsibility, yet irritated him nonetheless. His time, he knew, could be much better spent on other matters, rather than worrying over a stubborn machine.
As they labored over it, Bon noticed that four or five other farm workers had stopped by to lend a hand. Marco, the Portuguese boy who had earlier been commended by Bon, began tinkering with the mechanics of the tractor, to no avail. Finally the utter waste of time took its toll on the impatient Swede, and he turned to the crew member who had originally been working with the machine.
“Liam’s not on the schedule today, is that right?” When this was confirmed, he shook his head. “All right, somebody find him and get him up here. He knows more about making these things run than I do, and I don’t want to fall any farther behind schedule.”
As one farm worker scampered off, two more walked up to offer assistance. Another unproductive ten minutes passed before Bon looked up to see Liam Wright approaching, slowly.
Too slowly.
Bon pulled his head out of the engine compartment of the tractor and watched as Liam sauntered up. Complete silence fell over the assembled group as their eyes fell upon the yellow armband encircling Liam’s bicep. Bon could feel the air grow thick with the anticipation of his reaction. He pointed to the tractor’s engine.
“We could use your help with this,” he said.
Liam’s gaze shifted from the open compartment to Bon’s face. “Today is my day off.”
Bon acted as if he hadn’t heard. “It’s not in the panel circuitry. We were just about to open the lower module. Perhaps you could help with that.”
“Today is my day off.”
“There are several of us who can lend a hand,” Bon said. “What do you need to get started?”
Liam crossed his arms. “I’m assuming that if I work today I’ll get the next two days off. Would that be right?”
Bon openly fumed. “I’m pretty sure that you don’t take two days off from eating. If you believe that you’re being overworked, that’s something you can bring to the Council.”
“The Council,” Liam said. “Since when does the Council listen to anyone?”
The already thick atmosphere turned even heavier. The crew members who were standing nearby looked back and forth from Bon to Liam. Nobody uttered a sound.
“The Council will be more than happy to listen to any concerns you might have,” Bon said through clenched teeth. “For now, I’m sure we would all appreciate your help, especially during your day off.”
Liam turned to look at the assembled workers while directing his comments at Bon. “And what exactly happens to me if I choose to do my work only during my assigned time? Will I incur the wrath of the Council? Will I be put on trial?” He looked back at Bon. “Or will I be physically assaulted?”
Before Bon could respond, Marco stepped forward. “That’s out of line, Liam,” he said. “Whatever issue you might have with the Council is of no interest to us. We’re simply asking for your help. Now, will you give that help or not?”
A smile crept across Liam’s face. “If we continue to follow our current path through the Kuiper Belt, it really won’t matter if this tractor runs or not, Marco.”
“So that’s your decision? You choose to do nothing?”
Bon said, “Never mind. Go about your business, Liam. We don’t need your help. We’ll take care of things here.” Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the tractor and began to work on the lower module. “Marco, shine that light over here, please.”
Liam watched the pair work for a few moments before turning away and walking quickly down the path toward the lift. With the drama apparently over, most of the other workers wandered away to their own duties. For a minute there was silence, broken only by the sounds of Bon’s efforts in repairing the engine. Then, he turned to Marco and quietly said, “That wasn’t necessary. But thank you.”
Marco never looked up from the work. “Let’s get this thing running.”
Hannah sat at the desk in her room. All of the papers nearby were perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk, as was her stylus pen. A framed sketch of Gap that she had made was also squared to the corner of the desk. The walls around her were adorned with other examples of her completed artwork, mostly drawings in colored pencil, along with a couple of oil paintings she had finished before the launch. Her eye for detail and vivid imagination made her creations very popular with the crew, many of whom had the Alaskan girl’s handiwork on their own walls.
Yet at the moment Hannah’s love of art was far from her mind. The vidscreen on her desk displayed a three-dimensional chart of Galahad’s course through the Kuiper Belt. A separate file, open in the lower right-hand corner of the screen, scrolled through a series of numbers and equations. Hannah’s usually pretty face was furrowed into a frown as she looked at the file.
There had to be a way to maneuver safely through this minefield, she thought. The pressure that was being applied by Merit and his followers might have its roots in the overall inherent danger of the mission, but it was specifically supported right now by the perils they all faced in this shooting gallery. Hannah couldn’t deny that the Kuiper Belt had the potential to destroy them, yet in her heart she was convinced that Merit was taking advantage of it to propel his personal agenda of fear. He was either homesick or afraid of what lay ahead, and had latched on to their series of unfortunate encounters to gather support for his movement.
Now that movement was threatening the stability of her world. As far as Hannah was concerned, order was critically important, and Merit represented a disruption in that order.
He also was disrupting Gap’s life, which caused her additional anxiety, a situation that would have been totally alien to her only three months ago. Quiet, shy, and content to work in the shadows, she had been completely unprepared for the attention she suddenly received from Galahad’s Head of Engineering. She had, like many of the girls on board, been very attracted to Gap from the first time she’d met him. Yet she had never considered the possibility that he would not only notice her, but feel something for her, too. The past three months had been some of the happiest times of her life.
Now that happiness was threatened by turmoil, from the deadly debris that menaced their ship in the outer reaches of the solar system, to the unrest being promoted by Merit.
Turmoil and unrest were concepts that did not fit into her world.
She sighed heavily and shook her head, then refocused on the figures running through the corner of the vidscreen. The real story of the Kuiper Belt was played out here, told not in story form, but in the form of mathematics. Trillions of rock fragments, pre-comets, ice chunks, even sand and dust, all tumbling and colliding, intersecting with each other, changing direction and speed, and completely oblivious to the spacecraft that picked its way…
Wait a minute, Hannah thought. She froze, staring at the screen, her mind racing ahead of the numbers that reflected from her eyes. One idea had snapped into focus, and as usual with her, once in that position it was difficult for anything else to crowd in. She fixed on this one thought for more than a minute, turning it over and around inside her head. Finally she narrowed her eyes and looked up, her gaze settling upon her roommate’s unmade bed but not really seeing anything.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said aloud to herself. And yet she didn’
t fully believe that, either. Galahad’s experience around Titan had shattered the notion that things could be too bizarre to be true. The crew was quickly adapting to the idea that what lay ahead could be more fantastic and weird than anything they had ever imagined.
But what troubled Hannah the most about this particular idea—besides the obvious dangers to the ship—was that, if she shared this thought with others, it could be used as ammunition by Merit.
And that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Besides, she decided, this was a pretty wild thought, beyond even the strange phenomenon of Titan. Perhaps, when the moment was right, she would share the idea with Triana. But for the time being she would continue to puzzle it over, and do her best to shoot holes in it before sharing with anyone.
Not for the first time in her life, she secretly hoped that she was wrong.
16
Triana lay still on the bed in her room, her sanctuary from the hectic life as Council Leader. The sound system could have produced any music of her liking, and yet at the moment she had dialed into her most frequent choice, ushering the sound of a murmuring Colorado stream into her room. With the lights low, the water sounds were hypnotic and soothing, allowing Triana the opportunity to close her eyes and meditate. She looked for, and found, the quiet space in her mind that offered relief and escape.
If even for a few moments, it was an escape that was always precious to her.
A few minutes passed, and she opened her eyes. Her gaze instantly went to the photo beside her bed. Her dad, smiling and healthy, carried a younger version of her on his back, doing what he had always done best: enjoying life. The usual mixture of joy and sadness washed over her, a combination that she recognized as both powerful and essential for her well-being. The sadness served as a reminder of the love she carried for her late father, taken in his prime by the killer Bhaktul. The joy drove her to find the best in her dad’s life to inspire her own search for happiness. In the past two years that search had been challenging, but these moments of solitude and soul-searching reaffirmed for her that happiness was coming her way.
