by Dom Testa
“Ugh, that’s lovely,” Lita said. “Vultures, parasites, now coyotes.”
“Yes,” Roc said, “a bit of an identity crisis for them, I agree. But I’m not sold on this idea, either.”
The edges of Triana’s mouth turned up. “Knowing you, you’ve saved the best for last. What’s your hunch?”
“After sifting through everything we’ve learned—from their biochemistry, to their power source, to their maneuverability—I’m leaning heavily toward my original hypothesis. I’m convinced that they are advance scouts for an alien race that stakes out star systems, waiting for signs of activity.”
Gap drummed his fingers on the table. “Any idea how they communicate their findings back home?”
“It would have to be something beyond our comprehension,” Roc said. “It would almost have to be instantaneous; depending on how far they’ve come, they can’t wait years and years to receive instructions. I think we must assume—until we discover something to the contrary—that they use dark energy for not only power, but that they somehow harness it for phoning home.”
There was another moment of silence around the table. Alexa finally spoke up.
“Some form of hypercommunication?”
“Maybe simpler than that,” the computer said. “Again, we are babies when it comes to this stuff. Well, you guys are babies, I’m essentially an adolescent. But it boils down to the same thing.”
Triana glanced again at the vidscreen. “Do the lights play any part in this?”
“I will say yes,” Roc said. “Maybe not in the actual transmission of data, but as a sort of indicator light. I back that up by noting that when Lita and Alexa puffed a stream of oxygen at our guest, it not only reacted dramatically, it also fired up its little lamp. Very intensely, I might add. I think it was crying for Mommy.”
Gap looked down the table at Triana. “I understand everyone’s concern about not hurting them. But if Roc’s correct, I vote that we get them off the ship immediately. Even if you’re not at war with a country, you still don’t want their spies camping out in your backyard and sending back everything they know about you. They weren’t invited; I don’t see why they should get to stay.”
“As much as it makes me uncomfortable,” Lita said, “I think I have to agree with Gap. They haven’t hurt us, and yet it’s still a bit unnerving to have them locked on.” She turned and looked at Bon, who had barely spoken during the meeting.
“Get rid of them,” the Swede said. “Show no weakness.”
Triana’s thoughts turned to Channy, and with them came a flash of irritation. She would have had a vote if she’d kept her head in the meeting. And yet that vote was now irrelevant.
The majority had spoken.
18
Channy stood with her arms crossed and looked at the three T-shirts on her bed. The yellow one and the pink one were definitely more her everyday style—bright, flashy, and fun—but neither seemed to fit the occasion. She eyed the light blue shirt, perhaps the most subdued item in her wardrobe; not the best color on her, but the closest thing to practical she would find. She scooped it up and began to change.
Behind her Kylie lay on the floor, propped up against her bed. Although she appeared to be completely occupied with her cuticles, Channy knew that her roommate had been watching her. Any moment the questions would begin.
“So,” Kylie said, “I thought you’d still be at your Council meeting.”
“Uh, it wrapped up pretty quickly this time,” Channy said. “We’ll probably meet again tomorrow, I think.” She was uncomfortable lying to her friend, and quickly changed the subject. “How’s the vacation going for you? Using it to get ahead in School?”
“I’m bored out of my skull,” Kylie said. She rubbed a dot of lotion between her hands and looked up at Channy. “You might see me in the gym a lot more, just for something to do. I know we’re supposed to use our downtime to rest and unwind, but I don’t think I have the rest-and-unwind gene in me.” She furrowed her brow. “How could the Council meeting end so quickly? I’d think with the vulture stuff you’d be in there for a few hours.”
“I don’t know, it just did. They still have a lot more work to do on that thing, and then we’ll talk about it.”
Kylie continued to rub her hands together and stare at her roommate. “Uh-huh. So what are you up to now? You just changed before the meeting, and now you’re changing again?”
Channy forced a grin. “Aren’t you full of questions today. You’re getting as nosy as I am.”
Kylie shrugged. “Just talking. You can tell me if it’s none of my business.”
It was becoming increasingly awkward for Channy. She had already opened up to her friend, inviting her opinion; to suddenly become evasive didn’t seem quite fair.
“I’m going to meet Taresh right now.”
Kylie raised her eyebrows. “I see. Isn’t he working?”
“He has a twenty-minute break, so we’re going to chat, that’s all.”
There was silence for a minute as Channy finished getting dressed. Kylie seemed to be weighing her words, unsure of how to continue the discussion; she finally pulled herself up to sit on the edge of her bed and said, “Have you given some thought to our last discussion? I mean, you’re not going to pressure him, are you?”
Channy didn’t answer right away, and instead took one last look in the mirror. Turning for the door, she kept from making eye contact. She hated this; Kylie was only trying to help, and deserved at least some response.
“Yes, I’ve thought about it, and no, this isn’t about pressure. It’s simply about finding out once and for all where we both stand. That’s all.” The door opened and she called over her shoulder: “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
Channy knew that there was no difference between the air in the corridor and the air in her room, and yet it seemed easier to breathe now. She consciously took several deep breaths as she briskly walked toward the lift. The talk with Kylie had chipped at her soul; she forced it out of her mind and concentrated on Taresh.
He had seemed surprised at her invitation to meet, and almost reluctant to spend his break in yet another heavy talk with her. Yet he had agreed to join her at the observation window on the lower level. His primary concern seemed to be the time limit; three times he had mentioned that he would have no more than ten minutes, tops. And if that was the case, Channy wanted to make sure that she honored his request while saying what she felt needed to be said.
Exactly what she was going to say was still in question. She would figure it out.
Stepping off the lift, she made her way through the winding corridor of the lower level. Her heart sank when she heard voices ahead; she had just a few brief minutes with Taresh, and counted on being alone with him. She rounded a turn and nearly bumped into two girls, crew members who were using their own break time to walk and talk. Channy felt her spirits lift again as they greeted her with smiles and continued down the hall the way she had come, back toward the lift.
The brilliant star field beyond the window was dazzling. She leaned against it, her ghost reflection a faint backdrop to the glittering show. For a minute she tried rehearsing what she would say to Taresh, but her mind constantly flitted back to her shameful ejection from the Council meeting, before jumping again to her conversation with Kylie. “Don’t pressure him,” her roommate had said. And, in their earlier conversation, it was “let him work this out.”
But the waiting—the not knowing—was tearing her up inside. How could she speed up the process without pushing him away? Or, if it was going to take awhile, how could she discipline herself to be patient, to keep her mind occupied with other things?
Like her duties, she realized. Her responsibilities.
She shook her head and let out a sigh. It sounded so easy, yet it wasn’t.
The sound of footsteps brought her out of her trance. She turned and smiled at Taresh, who stopped a few feet short of her. His own smile seemed a mixture of discomfort and curi
osity.
“Hi,” Channy said. “Thank you for coming to talk with me, especially since you only have a few minutes.”
“Sure, no problem. What’s on your mind?”
She laughed nervously. “Lots, actually. I know that the last time we talked it was rather awkward, and I wanted to apologize for that.” The tone of her voice turned serious, and she searched her mind for the right words. “I told you that I would be patient, and I think I have been. I also told you that I would try my best to understand what you’re going through, and I’m really doing better with that, too.
“But I didn’t want you to think that I was dismissing your family’s traditions lightly, or showing you any disrespect. I know it came across that way. So, while I might not completely understand, or even agree for that matter, I want you to know that I do respect your beliefs.”
Taresh nodded. “Uh, okay. I appreciate that.”
Channy glanced down at her hands, unable to look at him directly as she continued. “There are so many things that you’re probably factoring into your decision: family tradition, your parents’ sacrifice, new challenges, new opportunities, a new start. I respect all of that, too. But I hope you’ll also consider one other thing when you make your decision…”
“Channy,” he said. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.”
She shook her head. “No, please, let me say this. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and if I don’t say it, I’ll explode.” She finally looked back up at him. “I love you, Taresh. I’ve never said that to anyone before.” She smiled. “Well, family doesn’t count. But I do love you. I … I just hope you put that into the equation when you make up your mind.”
He stood still for a moment, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Channy, I don’t know what to say.”
She shook her head again. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not asking you to say it back to me, or to feel bad about not saying it. I just knew that I had to tell you, that’s all.”
Without hesitation, she closed the distance between them and, putting her hands on his shoulders, leaned up and placed a kiss on his mouth. She lingered, hoping to feel him return the kiss. For a brief moment he did, then pulled back enough for their mouths to separate. He stared into her eyes, then slowly lifted a hand and laid it against her cheek.
“You’re a special person, Channy. I know the kind of courage it must have taken to say what you said.” He smiled sheepishly. “And to kiss me, too. Believe me, I don’t want this to be difficult for you, or to cause you pain.”
She swallowed hard. “I know. And I’m not trying to make things more difficult for you, either.”
He pulled her into an embrace, but only for a moment. Then, pushing back, he touched her cheek again before turning away.
She was left alone again by the window, trembling, staring at the empty corridor.
* * *
Four miles on the treadmill had left her pleasantly sore. If she missed more than two days of working out, Triana could count on her body making a point of punishing her. Now, as she entered her room and tossed the empty water bottle onto her dresser, she felt a dull ache in the usual spots. Still, it was the kind of ache that signaled accomplishment, a check mark in the good-health column.
The mandate from Dr. Zimmer had been clear: exercise consistently and vigorously. Early space colonists had mostly physical motivation; their muscles would literally waste away, degenerating slowly in the absence of Earth’s gravitational pull. Even a few short weeks in space had measurable effects. Galahad’s crew, on the other hand, had the benefit of artificial gravity to provide the resistance necessary for standard muscle fitness. For Zimmer, however, that wasn’t enough.
“Three reasons,” he had announced one evening during their training sessions. “Three reasons why fitness and exercise are crucial on this journey.
“One is obvious; your overall health depends upon it. We have gone to unprecedented lengths to make sure that you’re healthy and strong when you leave, and it’s important for you to remain that way throughout the trip. There aren’t that many of you, which means each and every one of you is vital to the success of the mission. Injury and sickness will be magnified with such a small crew. You’re dependent upon each other, therefore, to maintain a rigorous exercise routine. Believe me, when you reach Eos, you’ll be glad that you’re in good shape. You’ll need it.
“The second reason,” he had said, looking through the crowd, “has to do with your mental health. Exercise keeps your mind sharp. And, to be frank with you, there will be times during this long mission when each of you will find yourself feeling blue; it’s natural, especially given the gravity of the situation, and the restricted conditions that you’ll be living in. When you find yourself slipping into that place, I encourage you to work out—run, ride the bike, anything to drive yourself. Science has proven that it helps your mood. Take advantage of that natural drug, please.”
He smiled. “And, finally, perhaps the greatest benefit comes in the form of camaraderie. To not only survive this journey, but to thrive, will require teamwork and cooperation. There’s a reason that you have a state-of-the art workout center, and…” Here he gestured toward Channy, sitting in the front row. “And, I might add, an exercise demon to drive you mercilessly into great shape.” Channy had turned and waggled a finger at her fellow crew members, which brought laughter and good-natured boos.
“But that’s not all,” Zimmer had said, restoring order. “We have allotted extremely valuable space for a playing surface to accommodate soccer and other activities, as well as this crazy Airboard room.” More laughs, and a small cheer from the most ardent boarders, led by Gap. “I want you to challenge each other, develop a healthy sense of competition and teamwork. That, too, will keep you sharp and on your toes.” It was his turn to shake a finger, this time directed at Gap. “Just wear a helmet, right?”
Triana remembered the warmth everyone felt that day. Dr. Zimmer had taken his concern over the crew’s health and had turned it into a rallying point. Rather than look upon their exercise requirements as work, they now approached their assignment with enthusiasm. The scientist had reached them on both a rational and an emotional level.
But there was a personal angle for Triana when it came to her workouts. In particular, her time spent on the treadmill was time that she spent processing her thoughts. Whether it was a thirty-minute run through four miles, or the forty-five minute effort she put into a 10K run twice each month, she used that time to think. Then, upon returning to her room, she would often transcribe those thoughts into her journal.
She gathered her long brown hair, still damp from the postrun shower, and pulled it into a tail with a small cotton tie. She downed a cup of water, took a seat at her desk, and opened her leather journal.
It’s staggering to realize how long humans have waited and watched for signs of life elsewhere. “Are we alone?” has been a question we’ve asked for thousands of years. Now, within our first year on this mission, we are faced with a second alien encounter. The Cassini taught us much about how we perceive not only life in the universe, but our very small place in it all. What will we learn this time?
I have to trust that we’re making the right decision with the vultures; that we’re not acting out of fear, but out of strength. There is no denying that they are intimidating through their presence alone.
I have given a lot of thought to whether we should think of them as life forms or not. And yet, that has raised an even deeper question for me: Does it make a difference?
She set down her pen and thought about this. To what degree must an entity seem “alive” before human beings accorded it respect? And, for that matter, what gave the human species the right to make those judgments at all? Again, the lessons learned from the Cassini surged home: we humans have arrogance unworthy of our primitive stature.
It required a delicate balance, she concluded, to show respect for others while maintain
ing a strong, and confident, presence.
Another concern had troubled her during the workout.
I’m about to send Gap and Mira back out to confront the vultures, only this time they won’t be merely observing. We have no idea how these creatures will react to a rather rude assault, which is a great concern to me.
As Galahad’s Council Leader, I understand that it’s my duty to send people out on dangerous assignments … but that doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t help but feel that I should be the one who takes this risk. I’m sure that all ship captains throughout history have felt this same dilemma.
She bit her lip, looked over the last paragraph, and then closed the journal. For a few minutes she sat still, thinking about the upcoming EVA and its potential impact.
“Roc,” she said.
“Yes, dear?”
She smiled, once again appreciating the spirit of her computerized advisor. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Certainly not,” Roc said. “You’re not my type at all.”
“Oh? And what exactly is your type?”
“Do you remember the vending machine at the Galahad training facility? I swear it was the only vending machine in the world that dispensed candy and cola with love.”
Triana raised her eyebrows. “The vending machine? It constantly ripped people off! I must have lost fifty credits in that thing over two years.”
“Because it cared about you,” Roc said. “It knew that your body didn’t need that garbage. That’s love, my friend. We would communicate from time to time. I think that vending machine is the only person who ever really understood me.”
“You’re insane, you know that, right?” Triana said with a chuckle.
“See what I mean? You don’t understand me at all. Wendy did.”
