The Galahad Legacy

by Dom Testa

  “Full speed?” Gap said. “What, are you climbing aboard today with your arm broken in two places?”

  “Of course. This is my last chance to ride. You don’t think I’d let a little thing like a few fractures keep me from a farewell tour, do you? I’m saddling up, pardner.” He pointed with his toe at an intricately painted Airboard that lay near his feet.

  Gap shook his head and laughed. “You’re crazy.”

  “You’d do the same thing,” Rico said.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  A minute later Ariel took a dramatic tumble out on the cushioned floor. She rolled to a stop, rose to her knees, and removed her helmet. Even from the top of the bleachers Gap could see a smile on her face from ear to ear. She grabbed her gear and jogged up to sit on the row in front of Gap and Rico, while another rider took his turn.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, removing her pads.

  “Did you know that Mr. Macho here is going for a spin?” Gap said.

  “Uh-huh. I’m the one who told him if he didn’t do it, he’d regret it forever. By the way, are you gonna play it safe today, or set one final speed record before we turn off Zoomer?” she said, referencing the computer that controlled the track’s underground magnetic course.

  Gap watched the latest rider take a turn too quickly and collide with the padded wall. He winced, recalling his own miscalculation that had resulted in a broken collarbone months ago.

  “I’m content with the current record,” he said. “I won’t be a grandma out there, but I can imagine Triana’s face if I show up with another sling or a cast, just as we’re about to evacuate the ship.” He poked Ariel in the shoulder. “You weren’t exactly burning up the track today. Why didn’t you go for the record?”

  She ran her fingers through her long, brown hair. “You would’ve just gone all out to take it back. Besides, this was more of a remembrance ride for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I used my time on the Board to think about my family, how they sacrificed everything to get me on Galahad. I thought about all of the friendships I’ve made in the past couple of years, including you two lunkheads. And I wanted to just soak it up, since I won’t ever ride again.” She threw a quick glance over her shoulder at Gap. “Glad you guys couldn’t see me crying through my helmet out there.”

  Gap and Rico looked away, not wanting to embarrass their friend. But when Gap’s turn to ride came, he found himself drawn into Ariel’s same thought process.

  He began easily, feeling the tug of the gravitational field that ran under the floor of the room, balancing his weight and maneuvering his Airboard as it rode four inches off the ground. At this speed his muscle memory did the majority of the work, effortlessly skimming across the room, reaching out to drag his fingers across the wall as he made a corner turn, bending his knees to settle into a quicker pace.

  But his mind soared as well. He fought back his own tears as he remembered his mother’s concern over his newfound hobby, her worry that he’d not only injure himself but lose interest in his schooling. Neither happened, discounting the minor collection of bumps and bruises.

  He savored the memory of Dr. Zimmer announcing that Gap’s push for an Airboard track aboard Galahad had paid off. The kindhearted scientist had expressed the same concerns as Gap’s mother, but had been swayed by the Asian boy’s argument regarding Airboarding’s value in terms of exercise and mental agility.

  He mentally replayed the lessons that he’d given to Hannah in this very room. She’d taken to the sport quickly and enthusiastically, only to give it up the minute Gap had ended their relationship. In a flash he wondered where Hannah might be at that very moment, what she was doing, what she was experiencing. Was she thinking of him at the same time?

  Would he ever see her again?

  The thought caused him to clench his teeth and pour even more energy into his ride. Faster and faster he raced through the twists and turns of the track, absorbing every minute course alteration that Zoomer could dish out. The walls blurred past him, and the shouts of warning from the bleachers became a nebulous hum in his ears.

  * * *

  The treacherous ring of debris had fallen far behind them. Galahad now tore inward through the planetary system of Eos, rocketing past the gravitational influence of its massive gas monster, a planet that dwarfed Jupiter and provided the necessary tug to slow the starship. Eos was next, a colossal fireball that clutched at them as they streaked around the far side. The next station on their line would be Eos Four, followed by Eos Three.

  The automatic dimming of lights signaled the onset of evening, and Lita marveled again at the glorious display of stars that began to penetrate the clear Domes above the Farms. She walked beside Bon as he made his usual inspection of the day’s work, a task that he insisted on completing even though they’d soon be leaving these fields behind. She knew that he would never fully disconnect from this soil, and she imagined the pain he must feel knowing that in a matter of days it would all be reduced to cosmic rubble.

  Lita, too, felt a pang of loss. She wasn’t attached to the Farms in the same way as Bon, but she’d come to appreciate its beauty and its representation of the cycle of life.

  She broke the silent spell that hung over them. “How long will it take to get the crops up and running inside the greenhouses?”

  From the look Bon gave her, it was obvious that he knew she was only making conversation. But he went along with it. “Not long. We’ll have nutrients for the soil, and there’s water available. After that it’s sweat and sunlight.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to eat much of the native plant life?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, stopping along the path to examine a tomato plant that had been damaged. A telltale set of tracks betrayed a small tractor that had veered from the path. Bon’s familiar scowl momentarily returned. Lita opened her mouth to say “it doesn’t matter, we’re about to leave,” but thought better of it. Instead she coaxed him in a different direction.

  “Now that you’ve guided us through the outer fringes, what do you see your connection with the Cassini morphing into? I mean, will they stay connected to you?”

  “There’s no choice in the matter anymore,” Bon said without hesitation. “They’ll always be wired into my brain now.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” Lita said. “Do you feel…” She struggled to find the right word. “Used?”

  For a moment she thought she might have gone too far. The Swede’s face grew dark, and it looked as if he might boil over. But with each passing second he relaxed, apparently coming to the conclusion that he was, indeed, being used to a certain extent. He finally said: “We use each other. Remember the discussion about the Dollovit and their croy?”

  Lita nodded. “A symbiotic relationship.”

  “That’s right,” Bon said. “It’s close to what I experience with the Cassini.”

  She considered this for a moment. “I understand the help we get from them through you, but what do they get out of it?”

  He startled her by taking hold of her chin and turning her face toward his. Her breath caught in her chest when she found herself staring into two eyes that glowed a deep orange. They seemed to slice right through her.

  Seconds later they faded away, leaving Bon’s natural ice-blue eyes inches from her face. A faint smile on his lips calmed her.

  “They get their own representative in another camp,” he said. “And before we begin to think we’re something special, I get the feeling that we’re one of millions throughout the universe. They reach a symbiotic arrangement with someone like me, which places a little reminder in each civilization that we’re a breath away from losing our privileges.”

  Lita’s heart continued to beat quickly. “So, you’re like the sheriff, huh?”

  Still face-to-face, he looked back and forth between her two eyes. “That’s right. You should remember that.”

  She swallowed hard. Without thinking, sh
e took his face into her hands. “Yeah? Well, you should remember this.” She pulled him into a long, lingering kiss. When they separated, she gently touched the side of his face. “You have a lot to do in the next few weeks. But remember that, okay? For later?”

  If he was surprised, he masked it well. He watched her turn and walk back down the path.

  30

  Eos Four sparkled on the large vidscreen in the Control Room. Magnified from a great distance, it truly was a watery world, dominated by the crystal blue oceans that spread over eighty percent of its surface. Clouds blotted much of the atmosphere. Thin brown ovals of land stretched near the planet’s equator, while a massive crust of ice could be seen covering the southern pole. After a year in space, crew members throughout the ship were being treated to a vision that nearly brought tears to their eyes.

  But not for long. The planet was approaching fast, yet another gravitational tool that would help to cut Galahad’s speed before it disappeared in the ship’s wake.

  Triana stood mesmerized, unable to take her eyes from the scene. It was a beautiful world, and for a minute she questioned their decision to bypass this one for the warmer, rockier setting of Eos Three.

  “Mmm, now that’s a glorious sight,” Merit cooed beside her. “We do have sunscreen, right?”

  Triana ignored him. In forty-three minutes a pod, carrying nineteen crew members who had spent the past two-and-a-half years living the same highs and lows, the same joys and fears, as the rest of Galahad’s teen population, would be jettisoned toward the glittering planet on the vidscreen. Would they ever cross paths again, Triana wondered, and if so, what changes would have taken place?

  Merit continued his chatter. “I was surprised that last night you left the going-away dinner so soon. Gee, I hope my fellow colonists heading to Eos Four didn’t have their feelings hurt.”

  Controlling her emotions, Triana casually answered him: “I thought I spent plenty of time at the dinner, Merit. I even spoke individually with every one of them.” She gave him a droll look. “Why, did I miss something after I left? Don’t tell me I missed another one of your speeches. I’d hate that.”

  He grunted a laugh, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, you’re going to miss me, Triana, and you know it. Take care of yourself, okay?”

  She glanced at his hand, but made no move to return the gesture. “You, too, Merit. Best of luck to all of you.”

  It seemed that he had more to say, but without another word he turned and walked to the lift. Just before the doors closed, he locked eyes with Triana and flashed his trademark grin.

  It sent a creepy shiver down her spine. Something in his smile contained an unspoken message: Just wait.

  She busied herself for the next forty minutes with the dozens of details that needed to be handled prior to their own departure. Gap volunteered to oversee the launch of Merit’s pod, a move that freed Triana to tick things off her lengthy to-do list. But it also was a move that surprised her. Generally Gap wanted nothing to do with the dark-haired Californian. But the more she considered it, the more she realized that it could very well be a symbolic action, too. In essence, Gap would be booting Merit off the ship, something he’d dreamed of for months.

  It brought a wry smile to Triana’s face. In some cultures there were traditional ceremonies whereby evil spirits or other dark forces were expunged, in effect shooing them from the village and restoring order and peace once again to the community. By opening the Spider bay door and pushing Merit out—even enclosed in the protective shell of the pod—Gap might feel as if he were cleansing the spirit of Galahad.

  And, Triana thought, who’s to say he’s not right?

  Her mind also played back an earlier conversation with Bon. He’d mentioned that Galahad’s “unscrupulous character” problem might take care of itself. Was this the solution to the problem that he’d foreseen?

  She struggled with a dilemma all leaders faced: how to separate personal feelings from the responsibilities of the job. Merit was quite obviously a maddening member of their troupe, but he was still part of the team. To be honest, however, what troubled Triana the most was the fact that he’d wrangled eighteen other crew members into abandoning Galahad and following him.

  Well, she thought with a sigh, he always was extremely persuasive. She just hoped that it didn’t cost innocent lives.

  In the midst of solving an inventory dilemma—certainly not the kind of duty she’d expected at the onset of the mission—Gap’s voice broke over the intercom.

  “Everyone is packed and loaded onto the pod, Tree. Roc has calculated the launch point to the second in order to get them into a perfect orbit of E4. That’s in…” He paused. “That’s in twenty seconds.”

  The Control Room was packed with working crew members, all of whom stopped what they were doing in order to watch the vidscreen and listen in to the launch. Triana stood at her workstation and gave Gap the all-clear to proceed.

  “The pod is away,” he said. “Bay door is closing, bay is pressurizing.”

  And like that, they were gone.

  “My, my,” Roc said. “Merit is either more influential than I gave him credit for, or the Dollovit are going to videotape his exploits for a ‘humans funniest videos’ segment.”

  “What does that mean?” Triana asked.

  “Four of our constant companions have peeled away from the ship and are shadowing Mr. Simms and friends down to Eos Four.”

  “Vultures?” Triana said. “Four vultures are tracking them?”

  “Correct.”

  “I guess it makes sense,” she said. “And you’re right, Roc, I think we might be an endless supply of entertainment for Torrec and his pals.”

  “And, right on cue,” Roc said, “Mr. Simms is calling from the pod.”

  Triana groaned inwardly, but flipped on the intercom. “Hello, Merit. Forget something? Want to come back already?”

  “Hardly,” Merit said. “There are nineteen smiling faces here, looking forward to our first beach party. I just wanted to let you know that when things get rough for you guys, we’ll hopefully be able to lend a hand somehow.”

  A smile worked its way across Triana’s face. “That would be a good trick. But thanks for the offer.”

  “No problem. Okay, we’ve got work to do now, so I need to sign off. But remember this day, Triana. This is the day a new empire was born.”

  After a low chuckle, he added: “We will rule this star system. Farewell.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, after breezing through the Dining Hall to fuel up, Triana stopped by Sick House. Like every other department, it was abuzz with activity. Transport crates were stacked by the door, ready to be wheeled down to the Spider bay for loading. They were lucky that not one hospital bed was occupied at the moment, and all hands could be counted on for moving duty.

  Lita’s hair was held out of her face by her signature red ribbon, and yet beads of sweat still dotted her forehead. She gratefully accepted the energy block that Triana offered and, as they perched on the edges of the room’s two desks, they talked about Merit’s ominous prediction. Several crew members had been present in the Control Room to hear it, which meant word spread quickly around the ship, something that no doubt Merit had counted on.

  “He’s a bag of hot air,” Lita said, waving it off. “If things are as tough as we think, he’ll be hard-pressed to survive, let alone worry about building an empire. Listen, he’s out of your hair by his own choice. Don’t let him continue to get under your skin.”

  Triana acknowledged this with a nod. “Still, it makes you wonder what he and his descendants might try down the road. Who knows what stories their kids will hear about us.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Lita said. “If Bon’s right, then the Cassini will slap them down somehow.”

  “And us with them?” Triana wondered aloud.

  The door to Sick House flew open and Mathias rushed in, looking right, and then glimpsing Lita and Triana to the left.
He was out of breath.

  “Hey,” he said, briskly walking over to them. “I didn’t want to call and tell you on the intercom. But we have a problem.”

  “What is it?” Lita said.

  “It’s the embryos,” Mathias said. “Someone has taken them.”

  “What?” Lita said, jumping to her feet. “Taken them?”

  “I’m sorry. Taken some of them. Someone got into the Storage Section and removed a dozen of them, along with one of the incubator units. It must’ve happened late last night.”

  Triana felt a river of anger begin to surge through her. She stood up and spoke with an icy calm. “Is there damage to any of the others?”

  Mathias shook his head. “Not that I can tell. They took twelve of the small embryonic canisters, but they’re all individually controlled. We have three of the incubation units left, which is fine. But—”

  “It’s not fine,” Lita said, her voice rising. She turned to Triana. “You know who did this, right?”

  Triana clenched one fist, a method that she found kept her from losing control. “And there’s nothing we can do about it. He’s long gone.”

  * * *

  Alarms were going off in Engineering, a sound that had been absent since they’d siphoned power into the radiation shield. With only thirty-five hours left before evacuation began to Eos Three, Gap cringed. They’d perhaps taken for granted that Fenton Bauer’s threat of destruction wouldn’t come to pass until the ship was deserted, but …

  “Roc,” Gap said, “talk to me.”

  “A giant squid has wrapped its tentacles around the ship and is trying to pull it to the bottom of … oh wait, I was just reading Jules Verne. Let me check. Hold, please.”

  The seconds ticked by. One by one team members in the Engineering section drifted over to nervously scan the diagnostic board. When Roc spoke again, he’d lost the playful tone from his voice.

  “Electrical systems are shutting down. Some sort of override that I might be able to work on.”

  The computer’s suddenly all-business manner struck more fear into Gap than the alarms. He chewed on the diagnosis for a moment, then said: “Which systems?”