by Dom Testa
When the soft tone stirred her from the fitful sleep, she calculated that she’d only managed a little more than two hours, but it would have to do. This would be a landmark day for the Galahad mission.
She finished the fruit that she’d picked up overnight in the Dining Hall, and downed two full glasses of water. By ten after five she was wide awake and ready for whatever the day threw at her. She began by pulling out her journal.
Before falling asleep last night I thought about my talk with Merit. I’ve always had a strange feeling about him, but this is different. He’s always angling for something, usually power. I wonder what direction it will take this time.
And after only three minutes talking to him, I can’t help but wonder if our species is ready for this second chance we’re being given. Are we up for this? I hope so.
She closed the journal, aware that the entry was brief. But there was so much to do.
“Good morning, Roc,” she said, sitting at her desk.
“And good morning to you, Tree. Ready to go defy the speed of light? Which is just an expression, by the way. We’ll actually be folding the universe like a piece of paper and simply hopping across from one point to another. So let me rephrase the question. Good morning, Tree. Are you ready to go defy the laws of physics?”
“Sure, piece of cake,” she said. “Remember, I’m a crusty old veteran of these jumps now. Anything new to report in the last three hours?”
“Pretty quiet,” Roc said. “You have a recorded message waiting. Would you like to view it right now?”
Triana knew what it was. Wallace Zimmer had fought through his final days with Bhaktul disease to record a series of private messages for her, with instructions for Roc to parcel them out at select moments during the journey. The clips were painful to watch, a heartbreaking portrait of the final days of a great man. But painful as they were, they also provided a boost for Triana when she seemed to need it the most.
“Let’s cover some business first,” she said. “Did the extra diversion of power to the radiation shield help us? I’m guessing we’ll only need it for a few more hours.”
“Let me put it this way,” the computer said. “Gap’s little Band-Aid will get you through at least noon today. After that, no promises. Hypothetically it could hold for another week, but that would be a foolish bet. I strongly encourage you to make that hop pronto. Pronto, of course, from the latin word promptus, which translates to ‘beat it before your skin melts away and you die a grisly death.’”
This would normally have elicited a chuckle from Triana, but this morning her sense of humor was on hold. “How much more have you learned about our little friend in Sick House? Have you pinpointed where the jellyfish’s star system is located?”
“No, but not because of a lack of trying,” Roc said. “Without coming out and saying it, Torrec gives every indication that we’re not worthy of that information at this time. I think he’s waiting to see what our decision is before he volunteers too much about their empire. I don’t blame him.”
“Of course you don’t,” Triana murmured. “Okay, forget pinpointing; do we even know if it’s in the Milky Way galaxy?”
“No.”
Triana reflected on his answer. She didn’t know why the location of the jellyfish system was important to her. Perhaps it was because she’d been there and back, and knowing where there was would make it seem more … real.
She gave up for now and changed the tack of their discussion.
“I’ll present our choices during the meeting in a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll do my best to present Lita’s and Hannah’s votes for the Dollovit system as clearly and without prejudice as possible. I’ll acknowledge that it’s your choice as well. But I’m going to cast my own vote for Eos.”
“I see,” Roc said. “Would you care to explain your reasoning, or do you want me to wait and find out at the meeting?”
“I’ll tell you some of it. Our mission is to Eos, to begin the process of rebuilding the human race. I don’t feel that we can do anything like that in orbit around a red dwarf, locked into some mutual study program with an alien race. We belong on the ground.”
“Hmm,” Roc said. “Of course, you’re not going to give the more likely explanation, are you?”
Triana felt her breathing pick up and her pulse quicken. Her interactions with Roc had changed since her return, and this exchange was a prime example.
“Okay,” she said, keeping a neutral tone. “Why don’t you tell me what the more likely explanation is.”
“It’s my opinion,” the computer said, “that you’ve had doubts after your trip through the Channel, from the moment you awoke in Sick House. Doubts about what really happened there; doubts about who the Dollovit really are; but mostly doubts about yourself.”
“Is that right?” Triana said.
“As for what happened on the other side, the only thing we can go on is your recollection. With Torrec, we either trust him, or we don’t; it’s that simple. But the doubts you have about yourself are troubling you the most. And, I might add, the discovery of the Alexa ventet only gave your doubts extra fuel.”
When Triana didn’t respond, Roc nudged her: “Am I correct, Tree, or are you going to try to fool me?”
She waited a moment, then stood up and walked over to the mirror. She brought the light level of the room up another notch and examined her reflection.
Same brown hair. Same green eyes. Same nose, same teeth, same everything.
With her next breath her mind replayed Lita’s report from the Council meeting: “Skin, blood, hair, even the retinal materials, all check out as normal … I compared the tissues from this body with those we have on file, and they were almost identical … If it opened its eyes and hopped off the table, I’d be tempted to say ‘Hello, Alexa.’”
And Torrec’s explanation of why the vulture copied everything about Alexa perfectly, except the brain:
“It documented the majority of information needed to assimilate a copy of the human form, but did not have sufficient time to complete its mission.”
The vulture had only a minute or so with Alexa. Triana had been gone a week.
“… sufficient time to complete its mission.”
“I’m merely thinking out loud here,” Roc said. “But I wonder if your vote for Eos is to convince yourself that you are the real Triana. To prove that you can complete the task that Dr. Zimmer put before you. To ignore what might be best for the crew of this ship in order to stubbornly fight any suggestion that you’ve been copied.”
Triana kept her gaze on the mirror while her mind raced to fill in the blanks. She imagined another version of herself, light-years away, kept alive in a perfect copy of a pod—or perhaps within the cocoon of a croy—confused, terrified, and screaming to be released. The latest addition to the Dollovit zoo, the frail specimen from a small, blue planet in an average star system tucked within the dusty arm of a common spiral galaxy. Countless tentacled, bell-shaped bodies of jellyfish swarming around her, studying her, amused by her hysterics. In the distance she could make out the sinister shadows cast by millions of vultures, circling in a choreographed parade, patrolling the outer reaches of the jellyfish domain, guarding their masters’ drifting laboratory.
Trapped in a nightmare, a victim of her own impulsive dash through the wormhole. A prisoner of …
No. Stop it, she told herself.
There was a copy of her, yes, but it was there, staring back from the mirror, questioning everything. It looked like her, but the reflected copy could not think for itself, and couldn’t summon memories of a happy childhood in Colorado. It couldn’t generate its own thoughts, couldn’t formulate command decisions, and couldn’t articulate those thoughts without her help. It wasn’t real.
She was real.
Whether this was the result of accumulated stress, lack of sleep, posttraumatic disorder, or a combination of them all, the result was the same: it was destructive. And it wasn’t what best serv
ed her right now. She was stronger than this.
And she knew who she was.
It was time to take charge. She turned and walked back to her desk. “I’m merely thinking out loud now,” she said, mimicking Roc. “But I think this is a classic case of misdirection. You want to distract me from the fact that you’re smitten with the guest we have in Sick House. It’s a computerized version of puppy love, and you’ve got it bad.”
It was Roc’s turn to mimic her. “Is that right?” he said.
“Uh-huh. And don’t be embarrassed about it. You’ve worked hard for the last few years. You’ve earned the right to have a little crush.”
“A little crush?”
“Why not?” Triana said. “It’s a thankless job running the systems on this ship, you’ve almost been blown to bits a few times, and you’ve been humbled by the Cassini’s superior intellect. Now here come the jellyfish, another advanced species, but one that acknowledges you—one that notices you and includes you. You have the chance to give up the babysitting duties for a bunch of rambunctious teenagers, to give up what might be a grueling assignment on a hostile alien planet, and instead to live a pampered life orbiting a soft, red star. Where the only thing required of you would be the occasional sharing of information. Where you’d never again live in the shadow of the Cassini and their guardianship. Where you’d finally be looked upon as an equal, no different than any other species in the jellyfish collection. You wouldn’t be a servant to humans anymore; you’d be the sole representative of your own class. You’d finally achieve what you’ve wanted since the day Roy threw your switch: you’d be the equal of the human.”
Roc didn’t respond. Triana took a long drink of water, then checked the time.
“You think my vote was merely a way to convince myself that I’m human,” she said. “Well, guess what, Roc? I’d say your vote was merely a way to convince yourself that you’re human.”
The words tasted bitter coming out of her mouth, but she also felt that the computer had it coming. Between his shifting loyalties—or at least her perception of his loyalties—and the doubts about her own identity that he’d planted in her mind, it felt good to fight back.
After a long silence, Roc seemed to find his usual carefree voice. “Oh, Tree, our first fight. I feel like we’ve reached a milestone in our relationship, don’t you?”
She stood tall and stared down at the sensor. “Pay very close attention to what I’m about to say, Roc. You won’t find anyone on this ship more appreciative than I am for all that you do on this mission. But we’re going to Eos. Your job is to assist this crew in navigating our way there, and to help us overcome any and all obstacles that stand in our way. I’ll be very grateful for any help that the Dollovit give us, just as I’m thankful for the help that we’ve received from the Cassini.
“Things will be tough when we get there, probably tougher than any of us are prepared for. But it’s what we were chosen to do, and it’s why we trained for two years. The crew will get a vote in the matter, but I’m telling you right now: we’re going to Eos. I’d like to know that I can count on you, Roc, that you’ll be there when I need you.”
“I’ll be there,” the computer said. “Don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut the whole time. But I’ll be there.”
“Good,” Triana said. She picked up her workpad and started for the door.
“Are you ready for the video message?” Roc said.
She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”
16
The pace of the meeting was brisk. For the first time since the launch, the remaining 250 crew members gathered together. Between the crucial nature of the agenda and the expected short duration of the meeting, Triana decided that the ship could run on autosystems this one time. Everyone packed into the auditorium.
There was no debate, there were no impassioned pleas, there was no question and answer session. All that could be known—which wasn’t much—was laid out, with both the pros and the cons of each choice. Now it was merely up to the crew: Eos or the jellyfish star system. Fight and claw through a harsh environment around a yellow sun, or live out a tranquil but restricted life around a red dwarf.
Triana explained each of the arguments that had been raised in the Council meeting, and did so with an impartial tone. She did, however, reveal her own opinion, and made sure to acknowledge that it did not match that of Roc. Torrec had been brought into the room as a courtesy, but he was not called upon to speak.
Triana concluded the first stage of the meeting with an apology.
“I’m sorry that you don’t have more time to consider the options, but I think most of you have been thinking about them already. We’ve run out of time on our current path, and now we’re forced to make a giant leap forward. So please, take everything you’ve ingested this morning, along with any thoughts you’ve already worked through, and decide what in your gut feels right.”
Triana left the stage and settled into a seat on the front row between Lita and Channy. A low hum permeated the air as dozens of isolated conversations broke out amongst the crew. Each person had a workpad with them, and each would use it to cast a vote within the next few minutes. The results would be announced immediately.
The decision would be implemented within hours.
The Council members exchanged a few quiet comments, but the gravity of the situation stifled most small talk. Triana didn’t hesitate to cast her vote on her workpad, and noticed that both Lita and Channy did the same. She looked down the row of seats and saw Bon sitting with his workpad on the floor at his feet; he’d obviously voted quickly, too.
Gap seemed troubled, and turned the workpad in his hands several times. Triana was puzzled, given his commitment to Eos. But when she saw his quick glances toward Hannah, it made sense. He wants to understand her motivation, she thought; he’s questioning his own position.
Fifteen minutes later a soft tone sounded, indicating that all votes had been cast. Triana walked up the steps to the podium.
“Our new path has been chosen. As agreed, it’s by simple majority. I ask that each of us—and I mean everyone—abide by that agreement regardless of our personal feelings. It’s time to prepare for what lies ahead.”
She rested her hands on the podium. “Roc, please give us the final tally, and let us know the numbers on each side.”
“The final vote wasn’t close,” Roc said. “By a margin of 212 to 38, it is decided that Galahad will finish the mission as originally planned. We will leave for the Eos star system before noon today.”
Triana felt an emotional charge across the room as it dawned on the crew: they were almost home. Three years of the journey would be spliced out of the mission, and the idea soon had crew members standing in clumps, embracing and laughing. Triana allowed them to enjoy the moment. Personally, she felt a wave of relief, grateful that they’d stayed true to their original goal. On the front row she saw a resigned look on Lita’s face, a discouraged look from Hannah, but smiles from both Gap and Channy. Bon was already striding up the aisle, out of the room.
Triana was about to leave the stage when a voice from the room’s speakers cut through the noise. It took a moment for the crew to realize it, but when they finally quieted down, the voice spoke again.
“I would like to address the crew of Galahad,” said Torrec. He’d almost been forgotten in the celebration, but now was the focus of attention. The stage lights created a curious rainbow effect within the bizarre fluid in his tank, which heightened the mystique of the alien ambassador.
“Yes,” Triana said. “Before you do, I know I speak for the entire crew in expressing our thanks to you. We’re indebted to you and all of the Dollovit for helping us to reach our goal.”
“We have few doubts that your species will take root on your new home,” Torrec said. “There are a multitude of qualities that successful species share, but one of those is spirit. Through your actions today you have exhibited to us that you have the spirit,
and the bravery, which is necessary to survive.”
Now Triana felt a new emotion welling up: pride. Torrec was right. The crew had been pummeled with danger, near-death, and tragedy on so many occasions, and yet still opted for the more difficult choice. We are, she thought, a race of beings that will fight to be free, and to beat the odds, no matter what obstacles are strewn into our path. More than ever, she was anxious to gaze upon the first sunrise of Eos.
“With time running short,” Torrec said, “it is imperative that you quickly decide who among you will separate from your group to return with me.”
The large room, filled with more than two hundred teens, fell deathly silent. Triana stared across the stage at Torrec, her head tilted slightly, trying to grasp what the jellyfish had said. Separate from the group?
In that instant, all of the fear and stress that had dissipated moments ago returned in a rush. Something was terribly wrong.
She cleared her throat, a sound that, through the amplification, pierced the room. “What do you mean?” she said to Torrec. “I wasn’t aware that anyone would be going back with you.”
“We have made it clear from the beginning,” the jellyfish said. “Our species thrives on observation and study. It is the reason we have Vo positioned in millions of locations. We do no intentional harm, but we gather, we collect, and we study. It is our nature. Your ship’s computer, Roc, has referred to the beings you call the Cassini as the policemen of the universe, and to our species as the scientists of the universe. That is an apt description.
“It is a task that we take seriously. Our own experience has taught us to appreciate not only the beauty of life, but its fragility. Even with our advanced technology, we came perilously close to extinction. When we find a new species such as yourselves, we are obliged to collect, study, and catalog. I have made that point on many occasions since our paths crossed, have I not?”
