The Galahad Legacy

by Dom Testa

  The other Council members now expected to hear her position on the matter, but to Triana it seemed that another voice was needed in the debate: a voice that she’d grown suspicious of in the last twenty-four hours. Nonetheless …

  “Roc,” Triana said. “I’d like to hear what you have to say about the two options.”

  There were raised eyebrows around the table, but no one interrupted. And, when the computer spoke, his usual sarcastic edge was gone.

  “On both Eos Three and Eos Four you have everything you need to survive, but it will be tough. On those planets you’ll have the chance to build a civilization up from scratch, but there is no doubt that your numbers will also be devastated in the early years, whether through disease, natural disasters, or even predators. This crew, as we’ve seen in this Council meeting, does not accept death well. On Eos it will be a regular occurrence.

  “Had we continued on our path without incident, and arrived safely, I would have cheered you on and assisted in every way possible. But now you have the chance to not only avoid a harsh and brutal world, as Channy so accurately described it, but to grow and learn from life-forms that have prospered for millions of years. They’re offering you the chance to leapfrog millennia of hardship.

  “I understand your desire for terra firma. I also respect the desire to create something on your own, with your own hands. But I would have to say that the intelligent, safe choice would be to accept Torrec’s offer, and journey to his home system.”

  There was again silence around the table, as each Council member tallied the score. Counting Roc’s opinion, it was three in favor of Eos, and three in favor of the Dollovit system.

  Triana stood and walked to the water dispenser. She felt every eye on her—even Bon, who had sullenly turned his attention back to the proceedings. Taking a long, slow drink, she kept her back to the group.

  “Torrec,” she said. “When we make our decision, how quickly will we be able to make the journey?”

  “Instantly.”

  Triana nodded, and took another drink. Then she turned back to the Council members.

  “It’s midnight. Let’s get the word out to the crew that we’ll all meet in six hours. I want to consider every opinion I’ve heard tonight, and I’ll give my thoughts at six o’clock. At that time there will be a vote, and we’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.”

  14

  “You need to sleep,” Gap said, walking down the corridor with Triana. “How much more can you cram into your brain right now?”

  “I don’t think I could sleep even if you medicated me,” she said. “But I’ll try to grab a catnap. What about you?”

  “I’m gonna stop by Engineering. Since we’re obviously about to skip out of this part of the galaxy, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t drain a little more power to buck up the shields. Do you agree?”

  Triana considered this for a moment. “You’re right, it’s not like we’ll miss the power. But can the radiation shield even take any more power?”

  Gap nodded. “A tiny bit. But even another one or two percent might buy us the time we need to make our getaway.”

  “Okay. Let me know how it turns out.”

  They parted ways; Gap veered off to catch the lift while Triana ducked into the Dining Hall. She’d barely eaten during the hectic day, and she knew that energy would be required before the next day was over. She hoped that the room would be empty.

  It wasn’t. In the dim light she picked out the long, black hair and the thin face.

  “Hello, Merit,” she said. He looked up, evidently surprised to have company at this time of night. Triana noted the vidscreen pulled up to his table, and a workpad open as well. She quickly decided to make her midnight snack a to-go. Her thoughts required quiet time, and at the moment a dose of Merit’s arrogant oration was the last thing she needed.

  But Merit had other ideas. “I haven’t had the chance to officially welcome you back,” he called out from his table. “Looks like you’ve jumped back in at a critical moment. Is the Council deciding what we should all do?”

  Her back was to him as she pushed her tray along, scouting for quick energy choices that would be easy to carry back to her room. Don’t engage him in conversation, she told herself; don’t let him get you off course.

  But of course she couldn’t let it go. “The Council will present all of our options to the crew in just a few hours,” she said. “Then the crew can decide. You should get some sleep so you’re thinking straight.”

  He laughed, but it sounded forced. “I’ve more than caught up on sleep in Sick House the last few days. But since you’re here, can you spare a couple of minutes?”

  It would’ve been easy to say no; she certainly had an excuse to get back to her room. But running from Merit wasn’t the way to go. Better to know as much about him as possible. Besides, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he intimidated her.

  When she’d found a few items to nibble on, she brought her tray over to his table and sat down.

  “What’s up?” she said, taking a bite from a peanut butter–flavored energy block.

  “I’m curious about your trip through the wormhole. I thought you’d come back dead.” He gave her a half-smile, then quickly added: “Of course, we’re all thankful that you’re okay.”

  “Of course,” Triana said, returning the smile.

  “I’m sure most people want to know about the other side,” Merit said. “But I’d rather hear what it was like crossing the threshold.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  He turned his palms up. “It’s an unnatural barrier, for one thing. Separating distant points in the universe, but infinitely thin. Just the description alone makes it the most incredible discovery of this trip. Unless you count the Cassini.”

  Triana found no fault with his argument. The Cassini represented power, of course, but seemed … what was the best way to put it? They seemed almost too advanced to imagine. The jellyfish, however, despite their sophisticated evolution, were still physical, sentient beings. They might be many leaps ahead of human beings in terms of scientific development, but they still made their way through the universe as corporeal beings. Their accomplishments were—given enough time—within the realm of potential human achievement.

  Although comet Bhaktul had dealt a severe setback.

  All of that made the Channel, and its mystifying gateway, a thing of wonder and an enviable scientific goal. Triana hated to agree with Merit, but he was right. She contemplated how best to describe her experience to him.

  “Have you ever been swimming in the ocean?” she asked.

  Merit said, “I grew up in California, remember? My mother taught at Caltech for twelve years—she was brilliant, of course—and I practically grew up at the beach. Why?”

  “You know the sensation of swimming in water that’s pretty chilly, and suddenly, with no warning, you hit a patch of very warm water. Sometimes it only lasts for a second or two, and then you’re back in the cool water. Well, that’s almost what this was like. Only instead of feeling it on the outside, on my skin, I felt the change inside.” She paused to take another bite. After chewing for a moment she added: “That probably doesn’t make much sense, but it’s the best way I know to describe it. There was a blinding flash of light, and then I passed out. But I felt that odd sensation inside before I lost consciousness.”

  Merit seemed to consider this. He sat back and rubbed his face with one hand. “And you’re okay making a trip like that again? I mean, you trust our tentacled friend?”

  Triana’s gaze was cold. “It’s not always easy to know who you can trust, wouldn’t you agree?”

  He returned her steely look, then gradually relaxed into a smile. “Right you are, boss.” Indicating his monitor, he said: “I was just checking out the early reports on the Eos system. Interesting choices, wouldn’t you say? Are you leaning toward any particular planet?”

  She hesitated. Merit never asked a question like t
hat without a reason.

  But she was tired, and didn’t feel like discussing this with him at the moment. Whatever he was up to could wait.

  “I’m thinking about it,” she said. “Anything else?”

  Another devious smile spread across his face. Tangled hair fell over one eye, which, combined with the small scar on his cheek, gave him a menacing look. “Is it true that the Dollovit have rolled a series of pods off the assembly line?”

  He always seemed to be the first with information, Triana realized. He might have suffered a blow in his campaign for power, but somehow Merit Simms remained in touch with everything that was going on, in and around the ship.

  “It’s true. They’re quite good at copying things.”

  “So I hear,” he said. “Things and people.”

  Triana had no desire to wade into this any further. She picked up her tray and stood. The small collection of fruit could go back to the room with her.

  “I’d really like to talk more,” she said, “but we have a big meeting in just a few hours. Hope your arm’s feeling better.”

  She felt his dark eyes on her all the way to the door.

  * * *

  It was Alexa, but it wasn’t.

  Lita stood beside the bed in the hospital ward of Sick House and looked into the face of her friend. But it was a friend she had declared dead, a friend she had helped to propel into the cold graveyard of space. This Alexa was warm to the touch, with an angelic look about her face that tore at Lita’s heart.

  The clinic was deserted. It was a few minutes before one o’clock, and Lita had dismissed the crew member pulling this particular overnight shift. With the mandatory meeting just hours away, she was willing to risk that there would be no emergencies before dawn. Besides, she didn’t want anyone around during this visit.

  Pulling over a chair, she sat down beside the still form on the bed and rested her elbows on her knees. After a couple of false starts, Lita began to talk.

  It started with “I’m sorry,” and for the next few minutes she spilled it all: her regret at not investigating sooner when Alexa first mentioned the pain, which turned out to be appendicitis; her guilt in not shielding Alexa from a creature that obviously terrified her; and her grief in not knowing how best to mourn the loss of such a good friend.

  It all came out. And by the time she finished, Lita found, to her surprise, that she’d unconsciously taken the hand of the Alexa-figure which lay before her, an act so natural for her under normal circumstances. In that moment the dam burst, and all of the tears that she’d held back came in a torrent.

  She gripped the warm hand and cried for all of the decisions that she’d second-guessed, and for the loss of her friend. She cried for her family, for a brother and sister who might by now be orphans, finding their way through the chaos that Bhaktul had rained down. She cried for the frightening unknown that lay ahead for the crew of Galahad, and for the one sensation that she was unable to shake: that Alexa’s death would not be the last before this journey was at an end.

  Eventually the tears ran out. Lita recognized that, although she’d wept once or twice during the mission, she’d never had the good cry that she needed. It had been overdue.

  “Oh, Alexa,” she said, getting to her feet. She wiped her eyes with her one free hand, while the other still gripped the hand of the ventet. With a start she noticed movement.

  Alexa—or rather the artificial Alexa—had moved slightly. Had Lita’s voice—or her tears—somehow awakened something? Lita leaned forward, then recoiled when Alexa’s eyes opened, the lids rising slowly and mechanically, like a doll’s eyes opening. The form stared briefly at the ceiling. The head swiveled to one side, then the other.

  To Lita it resembled a machine powering up, testing its connections. She almost expected to hear a whir or an electric hum.

  Recovering her wits, she immediately ran tests. For the duration, which took about ten minutes, the ventet lay immobile, staring at the ceiling, seemingly unaware that Lita was in the room. The rise and fall of its chest displayed its breathing, and it even occasionally blinked. But there was no sign of recognition or awareness. The physical contact with Lita went unacknowledged.

  Lita was torn. She didn’t want to leave the figure alone, but she also couldn’t stay. She scolded herself for sending the clinic’s lone staff member back to her room.

  She leaned over Alexa, placing her face into the clone’s field of vision. “Can you hear me?” she said, her voice low and soothing. “Listen, I’m going to step out for just a bit. If you need anything…”

  She let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished. If it needed anything … what? What could it do? It seemed incapable of even basic interaction. Would it get up and walk out of Sick House? Lita was reluctant to strap it down; that seemed an unnecessary act of cruelty.

  But, because she felt that something needed to be communicated, she added one postscript: “I’ll be back in a little while. You stay here, okay?”

  It seemed a preposterous thing to say, but it was all she could think of at the moment. She slipped out of the room and padded through the dim light of the clinic.

  Torrec drifted in his tank, inching toward the top, then descending before repeating the process. Lita wasn’t worried about disturbing his sleep; during the initial investigation the jellyfish ambassador had assured her that only parts of his brain slept at a time, leaving him either fully awake or in a state similar to standby mode. Torrec had yet to turn down a request to talk. After a quick greeting, Lita sat down and carefully considered her words, guarding against offending the alien visitor. She began by asking about the role of ventets in Torrec’s culture.

  “They fill the gaps in our studies,” he said. “Often we are unable to analyze an actual member of a species. In that case, a ventet will substitute. They generally are near-exact replications.”

  “The reproduction of our fellow crew member, Alexa, has opened her eyes, but she’s unresponsive. Will that change?”

  “That depends on what you have planned for the ventet,” Torrec said.

  Lita was confused. “Planned? What are the possibilities?”

  “Because we were unable to produce a complete copy, the choices are limited. However, most motor functions are possible. The ventet will be able to use its limbs for perambulation, and will have significant use of its hands. Communication will be limited to simple commands at first, and these will take a certain degree of training. However, within a short time the ventet will complete menial tasks. Nothing to the degree with which you were familiar in its original form, but still practical.”

  Lita gave a melancholy sigh. It would be like training a dog, or a simple household robot. This would never go over with the crew. She could only imagine the reaction from Bon in particular. Somehow she’d have to convey this reluctance to the Dollovit.

  “Torrec,” she said, “I want you to know that we’re grateful for the gift, so please don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say.” When the jellyfish remained silent, she plowed on. “Our species attaches a strong reverence to life and, in particular, to the individual. I’m sure you’ve studied our history, how we treat the death of one of our own.”

  “It is a confusing history,” Torrec said. “It is filled with much ignorance.”

  Lita smiled. “It’s an ignorance born of fear, mostly. And disagreement. No two cultures seem to share the same attitudes or beliefs, and that’s been the story for millennia. But nevertheless, we’re still mostly consistent when it comes to the way we honor the dead.”

  “This is true,” Torrec said. “Your common link is in the form of an honoring service.”

  “In our language it’s called a funeral. Yes, it’s a service for honoring the individual. And it’s also a vehicle for closure.”

  “Explain closure,” the jellyfish said.

  Lita shifted, unprepared for this tutorial. “It’s a human’s way of letting go of the individual and using the service to instill lasting, positive
memories. It’s how we move on with our own lives while keeping a loving memory of the ones we have left behind.” She watched Torrec bob in the tank, silent. “Does this make sense?”

  “We do not question the cultural manners of the species we encounter,” Torrec said. “Whether we understand or not is irrelevant. We accept your tradition.”

  “Then I hope you’ll understand why our species can openly accept reproductions of pods and other inanimate objects, yet be uncomfortable with a copy of an individual who has died. However well-intentioned the gift, it violates the sanctity of our memories. It’s a wound that is reopened.”

  “There was no disrespect intended,” Torrec said evenly. “What is your request regarding the ventet? Is it your desire that we destroy it?”

  Lita looked at the time on the nearby vidscreen. “That’s what makes this so difficult,” she said. “Even though the idea of this ventet goes against our customs, it’s much too lifelike for us to simply destroy. So I don’t know. We’ll discuss it again in a few hours, and get back to you. Thanks for talking with me about it.”

  Again Torrec didn’t reply. Lita reminded herself that the jellyfish didn’t think in terms of appreciation and gratitude; to them it was either relevant or irrelevant, practical or impractical.

  She mumbled a good night and walked back to the hospital ward. The ventet of Alexa didn’t appear to have moved. Its eyes were still open and staring at the ceiling. Lita shuddered. She dimmed the lights in the room and left to grab at least an hour or two of sleep.

  Assuming she could block the image of those sightless eyes from her mind.

  15

  The conversation with Merit left Triana unsettled, and she couldn’t say exactly why. It was easy enough to discard his blustering talk because that was simply his personality, but at the same time he’d already proven that he was a dangerous element aboard the ship. What he lacked in actual power he made up for through sheer will.

  Two things were on her agenda before the crew meeting: another heart-to-heart with Roc—or rather, heart-to-chip—and whatever sleep she could muster. She chose sleep first, and set an alarm for five o’clock.