by Dom Testa
“Random, no pattern,” Roc said. “Or, if there’s a pattern, I’m too busy to puzzle it out right now. I can tell you this: it would only take a certain number and combination of failures before other components go critical.”
Gap could read between the lines. Multiple components of the ship relied on power to be provided fluidly and in unison with other components. If all of the power went out, the ship would merely flounder. But if several units went out together, and then the wrong individual unit sprang back to life, it could be dangerous. Unless they could put a stop to it, one wrong combination of breakdowns would trigger an explosion.
The explosion that Bauer had prophesied.
Triana called on the intercom, and Gap quickly laid it out for her.
“How does this affect our timetable?” she said.
“I think our first order of business is to make sure we’re alive long enough to keep a timetable.”
“That bad?”
Gap said: “Potentially. Roc’s trying to make sense of it. But now I know why Dr. Bauer insisted on so much control of this stuff. He probably knew more about this than anyone, which meant he knew exactly what buttons to push. Just like what he did to Roc last year.”
“Right,” Triana said. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair. Do you guys have almost everything packed in case we need to move fast?”
“We’ll be ready,” Gap said. “We might be scrambling once we reach the planet’s surface. But we’ll be ready.”
* * *
Allowing herself thirty minutes to throw her things into a storage box, Triana found that there wasn’t much she really wanted to take to the planet’s surface. She wondered what others would say about her leaving so much behind, but then decided that what others thought wasn’t important.
She’d started to take down the posters in her room, the colorful reminders of her home in Colorado. They’d kept her company during the year of space travel, often triggering memories of her dad and reinforcing the powerful life lessons that he’d taught her.
But they weren’t coming with her. This was a new life on Eos Three, and she wanted a clean, fresh start. It wasn’t the posters that would bring her father to life in her mind.
Another thought occurred to her, and she quickly opened her journal.
I think it’ll be easy for us to feel overwhelmed when we reach the surface, but I hope we remember just how far, and how fast, we’ve come. It’s important to remember that Dr. Zimmer never counted on us beginning the new colony so soon.
If all had gone according to plan, we’d be in our early twenties when we arrived at Eos. Now, thanks to the Channel, we’ll begin building our new home while we’re sixteen and seventeen.
I hope that the challenges we’ve overcome will help bridge the gap between the years.
The buzzer from her door sounded just as she finished. Channy gave an exaggerated wave when she opened the door.
“Am I interrupting your packing?” the Brit asked, walking in and looking around.
“No, I’m finished,” Triana said.
“What?” Channy waved her hand at the walls. “You’re not taking these?” She indicated the small storage box. “Wow, you’re the lightest packer I’ve ever seen.”
Triana smiled. “I’m not your average girl, I guess. What are you up to?”
“I’m inviting everyone to grab something to eat tonight and meet up at the soccer field. It’ll be our little going-away party.”
“I’m not much on parties…” Triana began.
“I know. I saw you make a cameo appearance for the Eos Four group. But this will be different. More of a farewell to the ship. She’s served us well.”
That was a good point, and Triana was embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of it herself.
“Things aren’t going so well,” Channy continued, “and we might have to shut down even more power tomorrow, according to Gap. So I think tonight we should do it while we can.”
“Sure,” Triana said. “I’ll be there. Count me in.”
“Excellent!” Channy said. “And I promise, I won’t ask you to make a speech or anything. Unless you want to, of course.”
“We’ll see.”
Channy looked around the room again. “So, do you think the Eos Four group will be okay?”
Triana shrugged. “I think their chances are as good as ours. I wish they’d stayed with us, though.”
“Ha,” Channy said. “Merit couldn’t be king if he stayed, right? Besides, now he’ll finally get to surf.”
Triana opened her mouth to respond, and then froze. The smile on her face gradually faded into a look of disbelief as everything suddenly fell into place.
“You okay?” Channy said.
“Uh … yeah.” Triana forced the smile back onto her face. “Listen, I’ve got some things to do before I join you for the party. See you there, okay?”
Channy looked suspicious. “You sure you’re all right?”
“You mean besides the emergency evacuation, and the inability to scout a landing location, and the stolen embryos, and an alien ambassador tagging along with us? Besides all that?”
Channy gave a small bow. “Got it. Okay, throw the rest of your stuff in a biscuit tin and I’ll see you at the party.” She marched out into the hallway.
As soon as the door closed, Triana raced over to her desk and snapped on the vidscreen. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Surfing. That was it. The tingling in the back of her mind suddenly made sense.
Surfing. California. Caltech.
What had Merit said? My mother taught at Caltech for two years …
Triana replayed the video from Dr. Zimmer, and there it was, in his own words.
“Two years at Michigan, two in Europe, three years at Caltech…”
And, at the end: “I left things behind in many of these places that I carry around today in my heart.”
She opened a new screen and scanned Merit’s bio. Raised by a single mother, no information about the father. And, interestingly, Simms was not the mother’s last name. In a brief paragraph it mentioned that Merit’s mother had given him a unique last name, one where he could “forge his own identity while keeping a connection to his heritage.”
Zimmer. Simms. Could it be?
Triana next pulled up the bio on Wallace Zimmer. He had indeed traveled extensively, never putting down roots, teaching for two or three years before moving on. One of those stops was Caltech, beginning two years before Merit was born, then moving on a year after Merit’s birth.
Of course, it could have been a coincidence. It had to be. How could Galahad’s chief architect be the father of the one crew member set upon shattering the mission?
She had to know for sure. Before shutting down her vidscreen, she placed bio photos of Zimmer and Merit side by side.
It removed all doubt.
* * *
What? Merit?
Pay no attention to the girl in Oregon saying “I told you so.” I think now she’s just showing off.
Man, what do you do with THIS information? If Dr. Zimmer was like a second father to Triana, does that make Merit sorta like a stepbrother?
I’m not gonna tell her that, and I recommend you keep it to yourself, too.
31
The explanation was lengthy and complicated, but the bottom line was that the power in the Domes had been cut back almost seventy percent. Like it or not, Bon’s days of farming in outer space were over. Everything that had already been harvested for the evacuation to Eos Three would have to suffice. Rather than assisting the crew, Galahad’s power systems now posed a dark menace, threatening to accelerate a chain reaction that would lead to disaster. Most of the ship was running on essential utilities only, which meant agricultural production had to take a backseat to heat, oxygen, and gravity. Lita likened it to a body’s immune system going haywire, causing the body to attack itself. Or, as Gap had simply put it: “Dr. Bauer has suddenly made power dangerous.”
&n
bsp; Bon gave his stamp of approval to the storage of existing resources, then packed the materials that he felt he would need the most on the planet’s surface. He stood now in his office, hands on hips, surveying the space around him. Unlike many crew members, he wasted no time deliberating over sentimental trinkets.
In twenty-two hours they would be coasting into an orbit around Eos Three and, if Bauer’s malicious plot hadn’t yet taken full effect, in twenty-five hours they’d leave Galahad for good. Even for Bon, the notion of never seeing this plot of soil again seemed unbelievable. At the moment he grappled with an emotional conflict: should he make one final visit to the clearing, or merely walk away?
For almost five minutes he was paralyzed with indecision. Twice he almost broke for the lift, but both times stopped himself. In the end, he found himself in the hidden clearing that Alexa had referred to as “our spot.”
His mind began a quick series of image replays, spanning his first quiet conversation with Alexa in the hospital ward, to their clandestine meetings here, discussing everything from the constellations that blazed above their heads to their unique abilities, the bizarre connections which made them different from the other crew members.
He replayed the moments where Alexa reached out to him, both physically and emotionally. He saw his cold response. Never mind that it was born of an awkward unease and a confused heart; he’d hurt Alexa not through any particular action, but rather through inaction.
He saw her death, again and again. He saw the monstrosity created by the Dollovit, an attempt to replicate the flesh and blood, but with no soul.
And he saw two other faces drift in and out of his consciousness: Triana and Lita.
Through it all, he recognized how the differences in each of their personalities played to a different aspect of his own. With Triana, it was the shy, somewhat distant persona. With Alexa, it was the distinction they shared through their alien or paranormal attributes. And with Lita it was the fierce dedication to discovering the truth that lay somewhere out there, somewhere beyond this corporeal existence.
For a moment Bon felt a connection with the Cassini begin to take hold, but he pushed it aside, a skill that he’d mastered in the last few weeks. It was a skill that he knew was necessary to preserve his own identity. From the first link with the Cassini, in the shadow of Saturn’s orange moon, Titan, Lita had strongly campaigned to limit Bon’s connection. She’d expressed the same concern ever since. His identity, Lita had preached, was a price that he should never pay for that connection. And, she claimed, once he lost that identity, his soul would be lost forever.
It had taken months, but Bon finally understood what she meant. He knew that Lita carried her own internal struggles, whether it was guilt over her perceived contribution to Alexa’s death, or her individual search for higher meaning in the universe. Faith versus fate was the eternal tug of war that Lita might scuffle with for the rest of her life.
For Bon, it was time to move past it all. The power of the Cassini, he knew, had always resided within him. They had channeled it, and focused it to a point, almost laser-fine, but the power of the universe—perhaps even the mysterious dark energy that ultimately had delivered them to their new home—was inside, waiting to be tapped.
* * *
Triana stood before the throng of faces and knew that, like it or not, it was her responsibility to address them. She chose to reframe the mission.
“Thank you,” she began simply. “Thank you for every ounce of effort and dedication that you’ve summoned again and again. Even when we’ve faced doom and gloom, you’ve rallied to defeat the darkness and the unknown. Now we’re about to trade one great unknown for another.
“I won’t kid you, because you know what’s in store. This planet will welcome us, I believe, but like all worlds it will tolerate us as long as we respect it. I believe we have every intention of assimilating into this new world not only with a sense of gratitude, but with humble eagerness.”
This was greeted with nods of quiet approval.
“Despite the hardship that we’re about to face, I’m thankful to be here at the beginning. But I want to give you something to think about.” She paused. “After thousands of years of wondering, we’ve discovered that not only are we not alone in the universe, but that there’s a report card.”
This was greeted with a soft laugh, but Triana saw that it also struck home.
“When we thought we had it all to ourselves, I guess it was easy to act irresponsibly. But now that we know we’re being graded, I hope that we take it a little more seriously.
“As proud as we may be of our primitive technology, I propose that we challenge ourselves to match every achievement with internal growth. That we never let ourselves outrace our wisdom. That we always understand the costs, and the responsibilities, that come with progress.”
The room had fallen silent. She hadn’t meant to make a heavy speech, but somehow all of her thoughts spilled out, uncontrolled. With a deep breath, she switched gears.
“Let me talk about something that will eventually need to be addressed anyway. From the moment we popped into Eos space, we’ve stumbled over the names of these planets. I happen to think that Eos Three is rather clumsy, and you probably do, too. It’s obviously open for discussion and debate, but I’d like to propose a name for our new home. In respect to the man who gave the last part of his life to saving ours, I propose that we honor Wallace Zimmer by morphing his name and attaching it to this beautiful world. What do you think of replacing Eos Three with Walzim?”
There were surprised looks from all of the crew members who were crowded onto the soccer field, but within a minute it seemed that there was complete and total agreement. A small cheer went up from the assembled group.
“And,” Triana said, “if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to make one more suggestion. Once we establish a new colony on the surface, I think that first town should be named after the only person to lose her life on our voyage to the new world. I’d like to call it Wellington.”
This time the response was immediate and unanimous. The crew of Galahad shouted their approval.
That’s when all of the lights went out.
The initial response was laughter and some whistles. For many it must have seemed part of the proceedings, maybe even a practical joke to loosen up the crowd and inject a haunted-house thrill into the party. But within seconds, the good-natured laughter trickled away, replaced by a palpable feeling of apprehension. When, after a minute, the room remained in darkness, the anxiety spread.
After a moment of disorientation, Triana called out to everyone to remain calm. Her voice was lost in the uproar of confusion. She then fumbled her way toward the door, pressing through the crowd, until she tracked the perimeter of the wall, feeling her way. She fought back the impending wave of panic. “Stay calm, this is temporary,” she said to herself, treating it as a mantra to get her through the blackout. When she realized that she must have begun on the wrong side of the door, she began tracing her path back in the opposite direction. By the time she felt the polished steel, the atmosphere in the room had turned heavy with fear. They were trapped like rats in a dark tomb.
“C’mon,” Triana mumbled, sliding her fingertips into the crack of the door, which stubbornly refused to spread apart. The emergency power had failed to kick in, a fact that didn’t bode well. Another sliver of panic settled in when she thought of what this might have done to Roc.
And to their chances for escape.
She felt someone next to her, someone who obviously had sought to find the exit as well. “Tree?” she heard.
“Who is that?” she said into the inky darkness. “Peter?”
“Yeah,” he said. It was Peter Meyer, the Canadian who had been the first to discover Dr. Bauer aboard the ship just after the launch.
“I think we can pull this open if we put everything into it,” he said. “I’ll grab it at the top. Why don’t you try near the bottom.”
They st
rained to pull the doors apart, and at one point felt it begin to give, only to have it collapse back again. A moment later, two more sets of hands joined in. This time the door groaned in disapproval, but soon slid open. A breeze of fresh air from the corridor brushed past Triana’s face, and with it came the realization that the ship’s ventilation system was down, along with the other systems. The air in the soccer field was growing stale.
Triana wondered where Gap might be, but given the complete darkness it would be impossible to find him in the throng of people. She needed to find an emergency station and its flashlights. With a quick thank-you to Peter and the other helpers, she set off down the hallway, again feeling her way along. If all power on the ship was indeed out, they were in deep trouble. Speed was imperative.
The emergency station would be just about … there. She fumbled for a moment with the door, then, pulling it open, grasped a flashlight. The stab of light brought instant—even if only temporary—relief. Triana looked back down the hall, and saw dozens of crew members who had wandered out, groping with their arms before them like cartoonish zombies. The beam of light blinded them momentarily, and they threw their hands before their eyes.
Triana pulled another flashlight from the case and handed it to Peter. “Find Gap,” she said. “Tell him to meet me in the Control Room. He’ll have to take the emergency stairwell.”
Without waiting for a reply she turned and ran.
* * *
When Gap met her outside the Control Room he carried a pry bar. Together they pulled open the door and followed the flashlight beam inside.
“Why wouldn’t the emergency systems kick in?” Gap asked. “This is not good.”
Triana gazed across the dark room and felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Eerie shadows, created by the speckled light beam, danced and swayed. Panels that normally were lit up and vibrant sat defeated. For all intents and purposes, Galahad was dead, a hulking metallic mess drifting through icy space.
