The Galahad Legacy

by Dom Testa

  For a moment it looked as if he might turn and leave. But instead he pushed away from the wall and walked a few steps into the room. He sat down in a chair, two beds away, and again crossed his arms.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Lita said, “this copy of Alexa is going back with Hannah and Manu in a few minutes. It will join the Dollovit zoo, I guess you’d say. I’m sure you’re brokenhearted over that.”

  “I’m not here to talk about that,” Bon said. “I thought you might want to know about my latest connection.”

  Lita shifted to stare at him. It was unlike Bon to go out of his way to offer information about his intimate link with the Cassini. She’d always tracked him down, usually in the Farms, to get him to talk about it.

  “Looks like you barely broke a sweat this time,” she said, hoping that a casual demeanor would make him more likely to open up.

  “It’s still not the most pleasant thing to do, but I’m learning how to manage it better.”

  “That’s good,” Lita said. “What did you talk about today?”

  “She’s out there,” Bon said.

  Lita’s eyes narrowed. “They said that?”

  “I’ve told you, it’s not a conversation. But yes, in a way they said it.”

  She put the mug back on the tray. “Bon, do you have any idea how big this is? It’s the most important question in the history of our civilization, and you’re sitting there with your arms crossed, tossing it out like it’s … like it’s the equivalent of finding a new strain of corn or something.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “Lita, I’ve dealt with this for awhile now, and I’ve put myself through an awful lot of physical pain in order to get even this much out of them. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically.”

  She sat back and considered this. Then she shook her head.

  “I’m sure you’re worn out, but that’s not it. You’re acting nonchalant about this because you knew it already, didn’t you? This doesn’t surprise you at all.”

  Bon sat still, and didn’t answer.

  “I’ll share something with you,” Lita said. “Lately I’ve done a lot of thinking about the concepts of faith and fate. I don’t know if they’re somehow connected, or if they’re polar opposites. But it’s almost been an obsession with me since the day Alexa died.” She shot a quick glance at the ventet, which was fixated on the vidscreen’s rotating Earth images. An icy chill went through her, and she unconsciously reached up to touch the charcoal-colored stone that hung on a chain from her neck.

  “Was it faith that you had, Bon?”

  “I don’t look at it in those terms,” he said.

  There was a pause, and then Lita said: “That’s it? That’s your answer?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. If you’re asking if this was a matter of faith or fate, I can’t answer that. I had to know, that’s all. I needed to know if there’s something else out there. I can’t tell you why.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “You’re projecting your own concerns about Alexa onto me. But I can’t help you with that, Lita. You have to decide what works in your life.”

  She sighed, and by doing so felt a release of tension. As irritating as he could be, she knew Bon was right.

  “So,” she said, retreating into the casual tone she’d started with. “What are you going to do with this information?”

  “Nothing.”

  Lita gawked at him. “Nothing? You’ve spent all this time, expended all of this effort and … and pain, and now … what? You just let it go?”

  “That’s exactly right. I found what I wanted.”

  She laughed again. “I don’t believe it.”

  He shrugged again. “That’s up to you.”

  Lita looked at the ventet of Alexa, and then back to Bon. “You don’t want to try communicating with her? I mean the real Alexa. Out there somewhere.”

  “Not anymore. For me it’s enough to know that there’s another destination. I don’t know what it is, or how it is, or however you want to put it.” He stood up and glanced at the alien reproduction sitting beside Lita. “Let’s just say that we all grieve in our own way, and we all find our own way of moving on. I’ve found mine. I’m moving on.”

  “But it’s the greatest discovery of all time,” Lita said softly. “You can make that connection … and then just walk away?”

  Bon nodded. “I have no proof, Lita. I couldn’t spell it out for anyone, and I wouldn’t want to. That’s up to the individual. I can’t map out what they believe, any more than I can help you with your question about faith and fate. People decide for themselves.”

  He turned and walked to the door.

  “Hey, Bon,” Lita said. When he looked back at her, she smiled. “If this means you’ve found peace, I’m happy for you. I really am.”

  He pointed to the ventet. “Quit playing with your doll and get rid of it, will you?”

  21

  The corridor leading to the Spider bay was crammed with crew members. As she walked past, Triana had a fleeting vision, one that filled her with sadness. She saw the well-wishers who had filled the cramped reception room at her father’s funeral, waiting for the opportunity to console the young daughter, to share stories that would somehow—they believed—help her understand how loved he was.

  It was the longest afternoon of her life. She was all they had left to associate with the great man, a conduit for their praise and grief. Crushed by her own heartache and despair, she had no choice but to stand silently and offer herself as a device for their final good-byes.

  The last thing she wanted to do now was to look upon this gathering on Galahad’s lower level as a final good-bye. Hannah and Manu had offered themselves as the toll necessary to meet Torrec’s demands, but at the same time they both looked upon it as a chance to learn. They weren’t treating this as good-bye; why should Triana?

  She waited by the door to the oversized hangar, and watched the bizarre procession. It began with Torrec, poised within the glittering syrup of fluid in his tank, rolled on a sturdy cart through the gauntlet of wide-eyed teens. A few of the crew members reached out to touch the reinforced glass as it passed by, each of them peering intently at the jellyfish ambassador. They were perfectly aware that this creature represented the yin and yang of alien contact: Torrec and his kind had wrought death upon Galahad, and now promised salvation. He was more than a mere curiosity; he was a symbol of both the perils and the rewards of humankind’s evolution into a space-faring civilization.

  As the cart drew even, the workers on each side paused, allowing Triana an opportunity to look once more upon their guest. She knelt and brought her face close to the glass. Inches away, floating in the genetically engineered solution which provided him with both protection and sustenance, Torrec raised one elastic tentacle. She was sure that he was aware of her; he had, in effect, saluted.

  The moment passed. Triana stood and watched as he was escorted into the bay, and then heard the crowd in the hallway grow quiet. She looked back to see Alexa’s ventet come into sight around the curve. It was walking on its own, but Lita kept a firm grip around its arm.

  The ventet’s face betrayed no emotion, but instead seemed to study the mass of human faces along the path. It looked side to side with a mechanical grace, never resting its gaze on any one spot. It was doing what it was programmed to do: observe and document.

  For Triana it provided another painful jolt, as she—and the assembled crew members, undoubtedly—couldn’t help but note that this would be the second time that Alexa departed through the Spider bay. Even though she wasn’t real, the feeling was the same. That, Triana realized, was a testament to the reproductive skills of the Dollovit and their vulture labor force.

  Lita approached the door and gave Triana a silent nod, with a look that said everything was going to be all right. Triana spotted the dark pendant around Lita’s neck, and felt her breath catch in her throat. She could imagine how difficult this walk must be for her frien
d, but Lita’s head was up and her face composed. As the pair walked by, Triana reached out and squeezed her hand.

  A minute later there was a swell of activity beyond the corridor’s curve, and Triana heard the sound of Manu’s laugh. He was greeting friends, a backpack slung across one shoulder, a smile on his face, while a wave of hands reached out to slap his back or shake his hand. He kept moving, the pace slow, but constant.

  Behind him, Hannah moved through the line. Triana recognized the reluctant look on Hannah’s face, and knew that it had nothing to do with the mission at hand, and everything to do with the attention. She politely responded to the cries of good luck, and nodded appreciation for the well-wishes. She even cracked a smile when someone channeled an early space pioneer with a hearty “Godspeed, Hannah.” But Triana knew that the quiet blonde from Alaska wouldn’t be comfortable until she was strapped inside the pod, preparing for a journey that seemed tailor-made for her. It was, in a sense, the ultimate Semester at Sea.

  Triana noticed the unmistakable shock of black hair and angular face of Merit Simms. He’d remained in the background, but now pushed forward and reached out. His hand snaked around Hannah’s wrist, causing her to swivel her head in his direction.

  The look told Triana everything in one split second. Merit’s wicked smile played across his face, while Hannah stiffened. Her face was stone-cold, her eyes bottomless pits. Merit leaned forward and spoke into her ear; Hannah responded with a grimace, and yanked her arm away. In a second she was beyond him, leaving Merit to smile after her and offer a sarcastic wave.

  They reached the door into the bay. Manu grinned at Triana as he slipped past. Hannah stopped beside the Council Leader and they exchanged a quick hug. Before pulling away, Hannah whispered in her ear: “Watch out for Merit. He’s still a snake, and I know he’s up to something.” After a pause, she added: “And look after Gap. Please.”

  Hannah glanced back toward Merit, then gave Triana a knowing look before walking into the hangar.

  Watch out for Merit. Look after Gap.

  The sentiments were a reminder of the inner dangers that continued to simmer within the walls of the ship. But the words also stirred old memories, a confusing blend of emotions that she’d never sorted out. Triana knew that she could easily get lost in there, wondering, worrying, trying to make sense of feelings that taunted her.

  The crowd dispersed, drifting back toward the lift. Like good sailors, they had shown their respects to their crewmates, and now began preparing for their own assignment. Their conversations were muted. Triana watched them leave, then made her way to the Spider bay control room.

  * * *

  Gap and a handful of crew members had already stowed the sixteen containers aboard the pod and now double-checked that everything was secure. Each unit held an individual human embryo, along with a self-contained cooling apparatus and stabilizing gear. While Triana said that crossing the Channel boundary wasn’t physically turbulent, no chances would be taken with such precious cargo.

  Alexa’s ventet was next. Lita led the clone inside the small craft and saw that she was comfortably seated and strapped in. Lita felt that she should say something, but found no words. This wasn’t Alexa and, with the limited brain capacity of a vulture, it would never understand. In the end, she resorted to the only physical act that made sense to her at the moment: she stroked the ventet’s hair.

  She wasn’t prepared for what happened next. There was a slight tug around her neck, and she looked down to see the ventet grasping the dark clump of space rock that Alexa had left behind. The stone had intersected the clone’s field of vision as it hung from Lita’s neck, and its reaction was to reach out and take hold of it. The alien reproduction had shown no impulse beyond observation—until now.

  The ventet’s eyes were locked on the cosmic pendant, scanning its odd shape. “Do you like this?” Lita asked. “Does this look familiar?”

  It couldn’t, she told herself. Despite looking like a perfect copy of her friend, this wasn’t Alexa, nor did it have Alexa’s memories. An alien organic brain lay within the skull, the same simple motor that powered the vultures. It couldn’t possibly understand the significance of this clump of meteorite.

  And yet this was the first time the ventet had shown any initiative. It had been content to be led around, to be placed in a bed or a chair and to remain inert. Nothing had moved it to act independently. Until it saw one of Alexa’s personal possessions.

  This couldn’t be coincidence.

  Lita’s concentration was broken by a commotion at the rear of the pod. Manu and Hannah scrambled aboard with Gap and two other workers. Gear was quickly stowed, and a last-minute checklist was consulted. Lita caught the eye of Hannah.

  “What’s up?” Hannah said, dropping to a knee beside the ventet.

  “Listen, we only have a minute before we seal you up in this thing,” Lita said. “Take care of yourself, okay? I know that you and Manu have lots to do, but be careful. Get your work done and get back to us, understood?”

  “You bet, Doc,” Hannah said. She saw something in Lita’s expression and added: “Is there something wrong?”

  Lita lowered her voice. “Keep your eye on our friend here, too. She’s … uh, she may not be what we think.”

  Hannah looked puzzled, but only nodded. Lita gave her another tight hug, then found Manu and did the same. He gave her a nervous smile.

  “Got your lucky amulet?” Lita asked.

  He tapped the pocket on his shirt. “Don’t worry about us. This will ward off any bad juju on the other side.”

  She laughed with him. “I hate to part with both you and the good luck charm. I have to say, I felt better with that thing hanging around Sick House.”

  “It left some of its residue,” Manu said. “You should be good for awhile.”

  It seemed awkward to hug him again, so Lita squeezed his shoulder and told him to be safe and to hurry back. She walked toward the pod’s hatch and, just before dropping down to the hangar floor, looked back.

  Alexa’s ventet was strapped into the seat, but had craned its head around. It was staring intently at Lita.

  With a faint smile on its face.

  * * *

  Triana put Gap in charge of the pod’s launch while she returned to the Control Room. There were only two crew members on duty there; most of the ship’s departments were throttling down in preparation for the Channel jump.

  “One minute,” she heard Gap say on the intercom when she’d settled at a workstation. “Hangar door is open.”

  “Roc,” Triana said. “What’s their ETA for the Channel once they’re off the ship?”

  “Between our speed, and the loop we’ve made back to the opening, they should be over the lip in about sixteen minutes. You’ll get to say bon voyage before you’re tucked in.”

  “What’s the status of the remaining vultures?”

  “Let’s see,” the computer said. “Fifteen … eighteen … times four … carry the one…”

  “Roc…”

  “Most of their squadron took off in the past hour. Some are hovering around the Channel, a few are scattered along the way, and it looks like another two dozen are lining up to escort the pod. That leaves at least twenty, maybe a few more, for our trip.”

  Triana frowned. “What do you mean, for our trip?”

  “I thought you knew,” Roc said. “Perhaps you should have a quick chat with Torrec before he disappears down the rabbit hole.”

  Before Triana could respond, Gap announced: “Pod away, hangar door closing.”

  “Roc, patch me in to Hannah,” Triana said. After a silent count of three, she said: “Hannah, do you copy?”

  “Right here,” came the immediate reply. “We’re off and running.”

  “Is Torrec in the loop?”

  “I am here,” Torrec said in his strange mechanical voice.

  “What is this about a squadron of vultures … I’m sorry, Vo … coming with us? Nobody discussed that.”


  “It is only natural that we will want to have a record of your successful deployment to the system you call Eos, as well as a record of your settlement.”

  Triana thought about this, biting her lip. Of course it made sense. The jellyfish were essentially providing them with passage on their highway; why wouldn’t they want to document everything? The vultures had multiple responsibilities, including their duty as sentries. It was practical, which seemed to be the nature of the Dollovit.

  So why did it bother Triana so much? Why did she look upon a vulture escort as an invasion of their privacy? Or was it even more sinister? Were the human colonists doomed to be under jellyfish supervision, in one form or another?

  The thought irritated her, but she held her tongue rather than lash out at Torrec, who, for all she knew, was merely keeping an eye on the fledgling star travelers as they settled into their new home. It was possible that the Dollovit were being good stewards of space.

  And yet it didn’t feel that way. The notion of the vultures following them into their new home system seemed … invasive.

  Triana had been silent for too long. Torrec, Hannah, and Roc were monitoring the transmission, waiting for her response. “Of course,” she said. “Thank you for the official escort to our new home.” After a brief pause, she added: “I’m sure that our two civilizations will remain good friends and partners for a long time.”

  On one level it sounded overly theatrical, as if written by a politician. But in her heart she felt that they had to begin this new phase of their journey—and the first phase of their new settlement—as equals. The Dollovit might be technologically superior, but it was vital that Triana make it clear that the human species would not serve beneath them. Nor should the Dollovit believe that they would occupy Eos in any capacity; they would be invited guests.

  For the next few minutes Triana busied herself with updates from each department, determining the readiness of the crew for the jump ahead. The only section out of touch was—not surprisingly—Agriculture; Bon was nowhere to be found.