The Galahad Legacy

by Dom Testa

  “You think? That’s your expert opinion?” Bon said. “And of course you base that on your detailed inspection of an alien creature that you know nothing about, programmed by an even more dangerous alien species that you know nothing about.” He paused and pushed back in his chair, lifting his feet up onto the edge of his desk. “Triana’s decision to take off in the first place was risky. Now she’s returned, and brought back a killer. Thousands of killers, actually. These are all lapses in judgment, which nobody is willing to say. I can’t believe that Triana would ever make that decision, but since she has, I’m going on the record as saying that it’s wrong.”

  “You didn’t go on the record during the Council meeting,” Lita said.

  “I wanted to hear what she had to say. But there’s nothing I’ve heard so far that condones her decision. It’s a red flag. A big red flag that says Triana might not be ready to lead just yet.”

  Lita nodded. “That’s fine. You’re a Council member, which means you’re not only free to have an opinion, you’re encouraged to state that opinion if you believe it’s vital to the crew and the mission.”

  “That’s right,” Bon said. “And since you’ve pressed the issue, I’ll tell you one more thing. Something about Triana is not right.”

  Lita squinted at him, trying to understand what he was saying. “You mean physically, or mentally?”

  “I can’t speak for her physical condition; you’re the doctor around here. But I’m telling you that there’s something not right about her. She came back from the other side … changed.”

  “Well, of course she came back changed, Bon. She had a traumatic experience, and she’s seen things that no human has ever seen before. I’d be more worried if she showed no reaction at all.”

  Bon shrugged. “Say what you want, but it’s more than that. She’s different.” He took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Watch her. Not like a doctor examining a patient, but as her friend. Really watch her, and see if she behaves like the Triana you knew before she went across. Then come back and talk to me about it.”

  Lita waited a moment before nodding. “Okay, I’ll watch her.” She stood up and tapped the desk twice. “I’ll see you at the crew meeting. We can watch her together.”

  She spun around and left the office. Bon kept his eyes on her until she fell out of sight. Then he reached up and wiped away a line of sweat.

  5

  The auditorium was filled ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin. No one was going to take a chance of missing anything. Curtains were drawn on both sides of the stage, while a single podium stood in the center. Triana walked into the packed room to a thunderous round of applause, a hero’s welcome. Lita threw a quick glance at Bon, seated in the front row; he scowled his displeasure.

  Without stopping to visit with the Council, Triana made her way to the podium onstage. After nodding her thanks, she brought the crew to attention.

  “We have a lot to cover this afternoon, with more decisions to make. And there’s the added pressure of a deadline because of our fragile shields.

  “You’re going to hear some things—and see some things—that will probably leave you as confused and amazed as I was. The time I’ve had to digest it all hasn’t made it any less amazing; if anything, the more I’ve thought about it, the more incredible it seems. But this crew has been through a lot, and seen a lot—much more than we ever imagined when we left Earth. And each time we experience something, we think we’ve seen it all. But we really haven’t seen anything yet, and this meeting will confirm that, I promise you.”

  She had everyone’s attention, and could almost feel a nervous ripple of fear mixed with their curiosity. She took a quick drink of water before repeating the story that she’d told the Council, up to the point where the vultures had covered the small metal pod.

  “They must have finished in about an hour, because in a flash they were gone, and I was again staring out into space. By now there were more of the amoebas nearby. I guess I was big news, and they’d all come to see for themselves.

  “And then, suddenly, a message popped up on my vidscreen. It was short and to the point.” Triana smiled. “It’s the first written message that humans have seen from an extraterrestrial species. Programs like SETI have searched the skies for more than a century, waiting for a message, and here it was, on my vidscreen.”

  She took another drink of water and steadied herself. The full impact of what had happened was beginning to weigh on her.

  “The jellyfish use many tools, but their workhorse seems to be the creature we call a vulture. And while these jellyfish are nothing like the ones we saw on Earth, their vultures have absolutely nothing in common with the birds that we know, either. These vultures are a combination of scout and scientist. They’re stationed in millions of outposts, much like we had SAT33 stationed around Saturn, studying, acquiring knowledge. The vultures literally copy all of the information that they find. By scouring the pod, and probing all of the electronic signals it contained, they learned a lot about me, and about us. Including how to communicate.”

  This news caused a stir throughout the auditorium. Triana understood the gravity of her statement, and allowed the crew their reaction.

  “By learning our languages, and through their quick study of our primitive communications devices, they learned how to reach out.” She gave a small laugh. “It’s embarrassing, really. Here I was, flashing my lights and waving my arms, while they methodically took a brief inventory of their discovery and learned how to speak my language.

  “Anyway, for the record, the first written message from an alien species to mankind was: ‘Are you hungry?’”

  A wave of laughter spread across the room, carrying a natural release of tension that had built throughout Triana’s tale.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. “That’s almost the same reaction I had. There I was, fighting off fear and panic, encountering an alien species in their home star system, surrounded by millions of vultures, including dozens who had scoured the outside of the pod. I’d just dropped through a wormhole and traveled across who knows how much time and space, and the first thing I’m asked is something my grandmother might say.

  “But it was a legitimate question. Again, I had no idea how long I was unconscious, and the pod wasn’t exactly equipped for a lengthy voyage. By examining the information about us, the jellyfish understood that our bodies require sustenance to operate, and they wanted to make sure I was able to interact with them. So they weren’t exactly offering me milk and cookies.”

  There was another smattering of laughter, and Triana saw Lita grinning from the front row. Beside her, however, Bon sat with his arms crossed, a distinctly unhappy scowl on his face.

  “Fortunately I had enough nourishment aboard the pod, and I was able to spend some time simply getting to know my hosts. I won’t try to catch you up on everything I found out in that first day, but let me give you a rough sketch.

  “It became a simple matter of typing in questions and answers. I discovered that the jellyfish call themselves Dollovit, and that this was not their original home. That planet, and its star system, were destroyed in a nova blast long ago. They’d had enough warning to find a star suitable to their energy needs, and they relocated. But instead of worrying about a planet that matched their first home, they simply created large life-sustaining packets which drift in the habitable zone of their new star home. Or, rather, they had the vultures create them.”

  For the next half hour Triana unloaded reams of information. The Dollovit settled into their new place in the universe, but their hunger for knowledge expanded. Eventually they tapped into the residual energy of the universe itself, and used it not only for power and communication, but for their endless odysseys to the vast unknown. At this point, Triana said, her communication with them broke down. When she asked if they used wormholes to teleport merely within the galaxy, or throughout the known universe, their answers were confusing.

  �
�I think it became a matter of experience,” Triana told the crew. “For us, given our primitive baby steps in space, there are perceived limits to what exists out there. But for the Dollovit, they seem to reject the idea of boundaries.”

  Another buzz spread throughout the auditorium. If this was true, it meant that the wormholes were more than just windows on the galaxy; they might turn out to be pipelines to the universe.

  And elsewhere.

  “And now, I think it’s best for you to meet the ambassador from the Dollovit,” Triana said. “Please, remain calm, and remember that we are ambassadors as well.”

  She stepped behind one of the curtains, and emerged a moment later, gently rolling a cart. On it a large, bulky shape was concealed by a sheet. The room fell silent. From her peripheral vision Triana spotted a nervous shifting in the seats. She understood.

  Before lifting the veil, she said: “Traditional pronouns like ‘he’ and ‘she’ don’t apply. As far as I can tell, the Dollovit are asexual. But for whatever reason, I’ve come to regard this particular representative as a ‘he.’ On my screen he spelled his name T-o-r-r-e-c. So, I present to you, Torrec.”

  She pulled aside the sheet. Though prepared, the assembled crew let out a gasp.

  It floated in what appeared to be an aquarium, although the light cut through a substance that did not seem to be water. It had a syrupy quality to it, slightly thick. Shimmers and sparkles danced at various points, which only heightened the spectacle of the creature floating within.

  Jellyfish was an apt description. A gelatinous bell-shaped umbrella swayed dreamily, trailing several tentacles that blindly groped in slow motion. Unlike the magical quality of the substance in which it floated, Torrec had a dull, tan shade that was unremarkable. The edges of its undulating head strayed closer to a rust color, while thin ribbons of gray lined the tentacles. Stretching to a length of almost two feet, it gradually rose within its container, then dropped toward the bottom at a similar, unhurried pace. It gave every indication of being disinterested in the two hundred pairs of human eyes trained upon it.

  Triana moved back to the podium. “I’m going to make all of the information you’ve received today available by electronic access. But I also think it’s important that you hear from their representative firsthand.”

  The auditorium’s massive vidscreen lowered from the ceiling, becoming a backdrop above and behind Triana and the aquarium. The Council Leader took a deep breath, and then tapped a quick sentence on the podium’s keypad. The words appeared on the large screen:

  The crew of Galahad welcomes you.

  A split-second later, a response unfurled beneath it:

  Greetings to the crew of Galahad from the Dollovit system.

  The reaction in the room was stony silence. Besides the shock they must be experiencing, Triana realized that they simply had no idea how to respond. Applause might have seemed appropriate, except for the undeniable hesitation from the crew to bestow trust on a creature which—intentional or not—had played a role in the death of one of their own. For the moment they merely gaped at the screen.

  Triana typed:

  You are welcome to present your statement.

  Again, without delay, Torrec’s reply sped across the screen:

  We are pleased to make contact with one of the dominant species of Earth. You are to be congratulated for the accomplishments you have made, both in general as a species, and as the honored representatives of that species on your voyage. Doubtless throughout your history you have wondered if other life-forms populate the stars, and wondered if others had ventured forth as you now have.

  We understand that to finally encounter intelligent beings is both thrilling and terrifying. Some members of your species have likely hoped for such a discovery. Others have likely hoped it would never happen. However, given your technological advances, a meeting such as this was inevitable. Although it is dependent upon a series of factors that, in themselves, are uncertain and often improbable, it was inevitable.

  There are difficulties that plague your voyage. Your craft, while functional, is not sufficiently sturdy to manage the stresses you will encounter along the way. Even now you are dangerously close to losing your defense against the cosmic radiation forces.

  To continue on your current path would incur great risk. There are, however, other options.

  Rather than migrating at your present pace and along your current route, consider using what my race calls the Channel. Your scientists have given it another name, which we find quaint: a wormhole.

  The Channel would allow your ship to instantly traverse vast quadrants of physical space, arriving safely at your destination at precisely the same moment you departed. Your journey would essentially be at an end.

  Torrec paused. Again, the packed auditorium was deathly silent, with crew members reading and rereading the last sentence: Your journey would essentially be at an end. Triana gave them a moment to absorb the implications, then broke the silence.

  “I imagine that your head is spinning right now.” Triana looked down and made eye contact with the Council members. Gap’s mouth was open, his eyes locked on the screen. Channy appeared terrified, her hands pressed together and held in front of her mouth. Lita’s eyes were wide, expressing shock and perhaps a tinge of fear. She slowly shook her head.

  Bon’s look of disgust had evaporated, replaced by an expression of concern. Triana got the impression, however, that it wasn’t concern over their possible use of the Channel. What, then?

  “There are more decisions involved than simply deciding whether or not to use the Channel,” she said. “The Dollovit are proposing that we consider a change of plans.” She heard the room begin to grow uneasy, and waved the crew back to silence. “I’ll let Torrec finish his statement.”

  After sending him a quick note, the screen lit up:

  We recognize that you are a proud species, which we respect. We also understand that your mission will decide the ultimate fate of your kind. That, too, we understand, for we undertook a similar journey long ago.

  While you may decide that your original destination is the correct choice, the difficult task of colonizing a rugged, untamed world might temper your thoughts. If so, you may consider our star system a suitable alternative. There are no planets capable of supporting your species, but other arrangements, similar to the ones we constructed for our civilization, might be preferable.

  This time the reaction was far from subtle. The auditorium was filled with multiple outbursts as Galahad’s crew read the suggestion that they abandon their mission to Eos. During the commotion, it took a moment for many to notice the postscript that Torrec added:

  The decision is yours, but your time to decide grows short. Very short.

  6

  In the two days since her return Triana had barely spoken with Gap. She’d sent an electronic message, but his reply had been short and distant. At the Council meeting he’d been quieter than usual; at the crew meeting he’d been practically invisible. The fact that the election results were being withheld likely explained some of his coolness. The fact that he’d faced his former girlfriend probably explained even more.

  Triana was hurt by the hasty election to replace her—a process that she couldn’t entirely blame on Gap—but she acknowledged that in his place she would likely have endorsed it as well.

  Regardless, it was time to sit down, face-to-face, and talk. She summoned him to the Conference Room and, while waiting for him, stared out the large window into the dazzling star display. Somewhere out there Eos awaited them, with its two Earth-like planets. Torrec was undoubtedly correct when he painted them as rugged and untamed. After a grueling voyage complete with sabotage, near-mutiny, and death, were they up to the task of building a world from scratch?

  And what about the alternative? Were they better off living the rest of their lives in an artificial world, with recycled air, water, and dreams? Would the safety promised by the Dollovit satisfy the constant “what if�
� that would live with them? There was so much they could glean from Torrec and his species, but they would have to learn to live with the vultures at their side. Could Galahad’s crew members accept these bizarre creatures as partners rather than killers?

  Would the crew even vote to make such a journey, swallowing their fear and plunging headlong through a wormhole, Torrec’s mysterious Channel?

  Her mind swirled with an overload of questions and worries. Nothing on this trip—nothing—had turned out as she expected. And that included Gap.

  They had danced around a relationship for almost two years, going back to their training on Earth. It quickly became apparent that he harbored feelings for her, but they were feelings she wasn’t sure she could return. And yet, why had the sight of him walking arm in arm with Hannah sent a tiny dagger into her heart? Was it because she liked the idea of him attracted to her, without requiring her to show anything in return?

  Never mind the added drama once Bon entered the picture. She wasn’t sure she would ever figure that out.

  For now, all of that had to be pushed aside in order to make the right decision on their future path. And, as Torrec had pointed out, they had little time to spare.

  Gap strolled into the room and, after politely greeting her, immediately headed for the water. Triana took a sip from her own cup and corralled her thoughts.

  “So,” Gap said, taking the seat across from her. “Quite a flurry of information today on top of what you’d already told us in the Council meeting.”

  Triana nodded. “My dad used to say ‘the hits just keep on comin’.’ And I’m afraid we have several more hits to go before we can put our feet up.”

  “Well, what do we do first?”

  “Before we get into that, I want to chat with you about something. If that’s okay.”

  Gap sat back and rolled the water cup in his hands. A cloud crossed his face, but he murmured: “Sure.”