by Dom Testa
“But guess what?” he said. “Each of these parts, including the replacements, is numbered and coded. And this,” he raised the Balsom clip again, “is not one of the clips that was in place when we launched.”
The room was quiet. This information seemed important, yet produced only looks of puzzlement from the crew. Triana took her eyes off Gap for a moment when she noticed that Merit’s shoulders had slumped ever so slightly. He certainly no longer held a kingly pose. She bit her lip. The significance of Gap’s revelation began to dawn on her.
“This,” Gap said, indicating the clip, “was a spare part seven months ago. But a few hours ago I pulled it out of the heating controls for Level five. It’s been tinkered with. Not enough for a full breakdown, but enough to cause it to flicker on and off.”
Triana suddenly understood. It was sabotage. “We’ll probably never know who did this,” Gap continued. “But I think I know why it was done. Nobody on this ship would want to have the heating fail completely, but a consistent breakdown would cause an awful lot of distress among the crew. Isn’t that right?”
Triana continued to watch Merit, who looked speechless. She couldn’t recall ever seeing that before.
Gap placed the clip back into his pocket and said, “This made me wonder: what other part of the ship was so crucial to our comfort and safety? Well, in this shooting gallery called the Kuiper Belt, isn’t it obvious? The collision warning system. And don’t you find it interesting that it went down for ten minutes, and then popped back on?”
Looks were exchanged between the assembled crew members. Gap stood quietly while they seemed to mull this over. Before he could continue, however, Merit raised his hands and addressed the room.
“I see what’s going on here, don’t you?” he said. “First we’re supposed to believe that somebody sabotaged the heating system, and now—conveniently—someone has tampered with the warning system.” He crossed his arms and looked at Gap while shaking his head. “So this is the best you can do, is that right? Rather than admit that we’re in serious trouble, you manufacture a villain.” He looked back at the crowd. “But we’re not falling for it this time.”
Triana watched him closely, analyzing the way in which he worked the room, rallying his troops. But the assembled crew members seemed confused, torn.
Merit raised his voice for emphasis. “I suppose we have another stowaway, is that what you’re saying, Gap?”
Gap shook his head. “No, it’s not a stowaway. It’s you.”
There was an instant stir in the auditorium. Merit’s arms fell to his sides, and a look of disbelief covered his face. “Me?” He began to laugh. “Me? Oh, Gap, you might have been able to confuse people at first, but this?” His gaze shifted to the crowd. “Do you see what you’re dealing with now? When they can’t solve a problem, this is how they react.”
A loud buzz enveloped the room. Triana stood still, watching, waiting. She concentrated on Gap’s face. He seemed calm, and very sure of himself. She was sure that he wasn’t finished yet.
When the room began to grow quiet again, Merit took a couple of paces toward Triana. “Are you behind this nonsense?” he asked her. “Was this your idea? To have your pawn attack while you sit back?”
It was Gap who answered. “No, Triana doesn’t know about this. Only you and I know the truth here.”
Merit whirled. “That’s right. We both know the truth, that you’re lying, doing anything you can to deflect responsibility. Tell me, Gap, what is your evidence? Usually when one makes an accusation like you have, they have some evidence.” He faced the crew. “I think we’d all love to see your evidence.”
Slowly another smile worked across Gap’s face. “Evidence? I think I can do that.” He cast a quick glance at Triana, then back toward the rows of crew members.
“We don’t use video surveillance on this ship,” he said. “We haven’t thought it was necessary. I mean, who would want to cause harm, right? But…” He paused. “But protecting this crew is part of my job. It’s why I’m on the Council. After realizing that someone had messed with the heating system, I programmed a remote camera to watch over the warning system.”
He turned to Merit Simms. “Merit, you weren’t even on duty this morning in Engineering. Can you explain to the crew what business you had opening the warning system’s front panel?”
Merit fell motionless on the stage. Every eye in the room bored into him, and the silence was deafening. He fidgeted, unable to speak for almost half a minute. Gap waited patiently, then said, “If you’d like, we can lower the screen and play the video for everyone.”
Triana’s heart beat faster. Everything—everything—had changed in a flash. She stood frozen in place, taking it all in, hardly believing what she was hearing.
Seconds ticked by. Merit clenched and unclenched his hands. He stared at Gap, who stood with his arms crossed, his weight on one foot, displaying a look of complete control.
Finally, Merit looked up to face the crew. “I need you to understand that I never once meant to harm anyone. You have to believe me.” A strand of black hair fell across his face. He left it there. “I knew the heating problem would be repaired. And the warning system should only have blinked out for a few seconds. That’s all…a few seconds. I…I don’t know what happened.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Gap said. “You almost killed every one of us.”
Merit didn’t respond at first, then slowly nodded. “I know. And…I am truly sorry. All I ever wanted to do was…was scare you into doing the right thing.” He pushed the stray hair back and addressed the crew. “You have to understand. I still believe in my heart that this journey is too dangerous. I’m…I’m afraid. Every day could be our last day, don’t you see?”
A low chorus of boos began to roll across the room. In a moment a yellow arm band flew through the air, landing at Merit’s feet. Within a few seconds a handful more fell to the floor.
“What I did was wrong, but you have to understand my motives,” Merit said, his usually strong voice collapsing into a whining plea. “Please, you have to listen to me. We could die out here, don’t you understand? I just…I just want to go home. Don’t you? We need to…”
The boos grew louder, cutting him off. He started to speak again, then closed his mouth. Without looking at Gap or Triana, he walked down the steps, then briskly up the aisle toward the exit. More yellow arm bands fluttered towards him, many striking his chest and face before dropping to the floor. He pushed open the auditorium door and was gone.
Triana realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out with a whoosh, then walked over to stand beside Gap. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she said.
Gap’s gaze remained on the door at the top of the room. “Not necessary,” he said softly. “Besides, this could have gone very badly.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned to look into Triana’s eyes. In a low voice that only she could hear he said, “There is no remote camera near the warning system.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. A moment later Gap turned, hurried down the steps, and exited the room to a round of applause and many slaps on the back.
Thirty minutes later, Triana walked into the Control Room. The crew members who had remained on duty during the meeting, and had watched on video monitors, quietly went about their business. Nobody said a word to her, but the atmosphere had dramatically changed. Everyone seemed especially alert as they went about their duties; there was a crispness in their movements that hadn’t existed two hours earlier.
Bon was sitting at the interface panel, rapidly punching strings of code on the keyboard. Triana sidled up beside him and watched for a moment, reluctant to interrupt his work. Then, with a final flourish, he hit ENTER and sat back.
“That should take care of the next leg through the Belt,” he said. Turning to look at Triana he added, “After this, I’ll have to connect again to receive another update.”
“How do you feel abo
ut that?” she said.
He shrugged. “It’s not the most pleasant experience in the world, but I can handle it now.”
Triana studied his face for a moment, trying to see through those ice-blue eyes and read his thoughts. Had he really accepted the idea of the Cassini connection so easily? Just a few hours earlier he had been unwilling to attempt it; now he was quick to acknowledge that it would be happening again, possibly several times.
It was more than that, however. Bon’s attitude wasn’t one of tolerance. It was…anticipation?
A new—and frightening—thought came into Triana’s mind. Did Bon now enjoy that connection? She had wondered, even during the first encounter around Saturn, if the link to the Cassini caused damage to Bon’s brain. But what if it was a sensory stimulation that created a dependence? Could Bon slip into an addiction to the power of the Cassini?
She mustered a smile that felt forced, and held out her hand. “You still have the translator on you, right?”
Bon looked puzzled. “Yes. It’s in my pocket. Why?”
Triana said, “I just think I should hold onto it for you.”
She could tell from his expression that Bon wanted more of an explanation. He made no move to extract the metal device from his pocket.
“Listen,” she said, quickly rationalizing her request. “We have no idea what might happen each time you connect with them. I think it would be a good idea if I held onto the translator, to make sure I’m there when it’s time.” She smiled at him again.
“Just a safety measure, that’s all.”
Bon silently stared at her. She knew that he didn’t buy the explanation, but she also knew that he wouldn’t have his own reason for keeping the translator, either. A moment later he placed it into her open palm.
“Thanks,” she said. “How much longer until you need to hook up with them?”
He mumbled something that sounded like, “I don’t know yet,” then stood, preparing to leave. Triana felt an awkward moment pass between them, and felt that something needed to be said.
“Thanks again for everything. I mean that.” When Bon only nodded a response, she added, “I’ll see you at the Council meeting in the morning.” He walked past her toward the lift.
Triana turned to watch him, and was startled to see Mika standing beside her. The Japanese girl had left her post and was quietly waiting for a chance to speak to Triana.
She also no longer sported a yellow arm band.
“Hi, Mika.”
“Triana, I wanted to…to apologize for any anxiety I might have caused in the Control Room.” She appeared to fumble for words. “I…I was too quick to…to lose faith in our mission, and I…feel like I let you down. It won’t happen again.”
Triana offered a gentle smile. She reached out and put a hand on Mika’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. Don’t worry about what happened. You were never disrespectful or rude. We simply…disagreed. But you did your job, and never let our differences interfere with your work. I’m glad you’re here.”
A visible look of relief crossed Mika’s face. She nodded acknowledgement of Triana’s comments, then walked back to her post.
Triana spent another five minutes checking in by intercom with all of the various departments on Galahad. Again she noticed the crisp response from each crew member who answered her call.
She was once again in command.
32
Once upon a time, back when I was a little baby computer, I had a long talk with Roy, my creator. I asked him what the hardest thing was about building the world’s most incredible thinking machine. That’s me, by the way.
He said, “It’s not the building. It’s the rebuilding.”
Meaning that it was one thing to put me together. When he had to take me apart to fix things, however, it was always a little more difficult getting things back to normal.
And isn’t that the truth with just about everything?
“What are we going to do about Merit Simms?”
The Council sat around the table in the Conference Room, and Lita’s question hung in the air. “I mean,” she continued, “we don’t have a jail on this ship. We could confine him to his room for a while, but, really, what good does that do?”
“We could throw him off the ship,” Channy said with a grin. Triana had already considered the issue for hours. Tossing and turning during the night, she had reflected on several choices, including Lita’s idea of detention. It seemed almost silly, however, to send Merit to his room. Was that really the way bad behavior would be dealt with during the journey? Even dangerous behavior?
Dr. Zimmer had done his best in planning the system of government on Galahad, yet had assumed that only minor squabbles and differences would require disciplinary action. He—nor anyone else, for that matter—had imagined a crew member recklessly threatening the lives of everyone on the ship.
Although Merit’s actions had been designed to only induce fear, and to manipulate the crew’s loyalties, they could have spelled disaster. He had not been seen in the eighteen hours following the meeting in the auditorium. Triana assumed that he would lay low for at least a few days.
In the meantime, it was up to the Council to determine the punishment, if any.
“May I make a recommendation?” Bon said from the end of the table.
Triana was startled. Bon never offered suggestions; in fact, he usually needed prodding to even open his mouth during a Council meeting. “Uh, sure,” she said.
Bon leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I don’t believe that we should reward this person by giving him a vacation, even if it’s in his room. I vote to put him right back to work, with perhaps an extra shift each week. And, when his next rotation of rest comes around, he should forfeit that and immediately report to his next station.”
Triana smiled. Bon’s work ethic was unquestionably the strongest on the ship; of course he would advocate hard work for any misconduct. She looked around the table for reaction, and was greeted by looks of thoughtful approval.
“It makes sense, really,” Lita said.
Gap nodded. “I agree.”
“If you won’t boot him off the ship,” Channy said, “then okay, put him to work.”
The unanimous decision helped, but at the same time Triana realized that the lack of a policy dealing with dangerous behavior could come back to haunt them. A world of no consequences would only mean chaos. Her to-do list had suddenly picked up a priority item.
She moved on to the next item on the agenda. “Tell me about Alexa.”
“I think she’s going to be fine,” Lita said. “It might take her a couple of weeks to get her strength back, but physically she’s okay. The only thing…” She let the sentence fall away, seemed to think about it, then continued. “Well, she doesn’t seem to be the same Alexa as before the surgery.”
“What do you mean?” Channy said.
“Um…I can’t really put my finger on it. She seems pretty…serious.”
Channy laughed. “You think? She just had emergency surgery, then lay in a coma for a couple of days. You want jokes or something?”
Lita smiled. “It’s not that. Her personality seems a little different.” She looked at Triana. “I’m not saying anything’s wrong with her. Her brain scan is normal, no apparent damage. But this has changed her somehow.”
Triana thought about those words for a moment. Finally, she looked at Lita and said, “I think we’ve all changed, you know?”
The discussion moved to a lighter topic for a minute, as Channy announced that her plans for a dating game would now continue. She enthusiastically predicted at least a dozen crew members would participate. There was a mixture of groans and chuckles when she raised her eyebrows and looked around the table for volunteers.
Gap had been relatively quiet throughout the meeting. Triana had noticed, and wondered if she should later meet privately with him. For the time being she asked him for an Engineering update.
“The heating u
nit is working perfectly,” he said. “If there’s any silver lining to what Merit did to make it malfunction, it’s that we now know exactly how the Balsom clips behave when they’re damaged or failing.”
“How did he do that, anyway?” Channy said.
“He’s on his second tour of duty in the Engineering section these days, and he had a lot of time to study up on what he needed to do. Plus, it’s not like we sat there guarding the heating system, right? He could have done everything in the middle of the night, or whenever. Nobody would have thought twice about him being there.”
Lita said, “So we shouldn’t be worried about those clips going bad?”
Gap shook his head. “No. I would be surprised if we ever have to pull out a spare clip again on the rest of the trip. It’s a pretty solid unit, which is why the malfunction was so frustrating in the first place.”
“But you figured it out,” Triana said, doing her best to soothe whatever issues were apparently still festering inside Gap.
“Well…” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t think to check the clips for another level, and that might have saved us a lot of time.”
“Quit being modest,” Triana said with a laugh. “You did a good job. You even outsmarted Roc.”
“Can we talk about something else?” the computer chimed in.
“Yes, we can,” Triana said. “What’s the status on the warning system?”
“Same story as the heating unit,” Gap said. “Merit loosened a key circuit within it, knowing full well that a back-up circuit would kick in. It’s just that the warning system didn’t identify it as a complete malfunction, and instead tried to either repair the first circuit, or go around it. It caused the unit to completely shut down rather than use the back-up.”
“It’s been reprogrammed,” Roc said. “From now on, at the first indication of any problem, it will use any and all back-up systems. It’s not anyone’s fault, really. The system was a brand new invention, and obviously nobody on Earth had ever needed one before. Plus, who knew that we would be driving through such heavy traffic?”
