The Dark Zone

by Dom Testa

  “Wendy the vending machine? Okay, we are changing the topic right now.”

  Roc let out an artificial sigh. “That’s probably for the best. I’ll never get over the day they unplugged her and rolled her away. So what’s on your mind?”

  Triana leaned back in her chair. “I’m trying to be at peace with this EVA coming up. I still believe it’s in our best interests, but I’d like to do everything possible to make sure Gap and Mira are okay.”

  “Gap and Mira understand the risk,” Roc said. “We have no indication that the vultures can bust through the hull of the Spider, nor have they displayed anything that would resemble a weapon. We have to trust that they’ll be so apprehensive of the oxygen gun that they’ll want nothing to do with the Spider.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Plus,” the computer added, “we know that they communicate with each other instantaneously. We could find that all it takes is one shot, and they’ll all take off. The alarm bell will sound, if you will, and they might scatter.”

  “That’s really what I’m hoping for,” Triana said. “The sooner we can get Gap and Mira back inside, the better I’ll feel.” She puffed up her cheeks and let out a long breath. “I’ve also been thinking about the beings who created these things in the first place. I keep wondering where they’re from, what they’re like.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Roc said. “And quite honestly, I’m starting to believe that we’re going to find out the answers to those questions, sooner than we think.”

  Triana stared straight ahead, frozen in her seat, as Roc added, “Are you prepared for that?”

  19

  Humans are very good at finding distractions when their minds are on overload. You don’t see that in the rest of the animal kingdom. For instance, I doubt that a hungry squirrel that is running out of time to find food before the first snow will take a few minutes to go shopping or play a video game in order to “decompress.”

  I’ve been told that the term you use to validate this activity is “blowing off steam.” Just because I don’t need to do this doesn’t mean I don’t grasp the concept. Believe me, I’ve seen you when you don’t occasionally blow off steam, and you’re insufferable.

  If that means running, or playing video games, or doing crossword puzzles, that’s great. It just so happens that Gap finds his release four inches off the ground.

  * * *

  The bleachers in the Airboarding room were more than half full. Gap sat near the top, his helmet resting beside him, waiting to take a turn around the track. In the meantime, he watched one of the crew’s better boarders zip through several tough turns. Ariel was celebrating her seventeenth birthday, and had many of her best friends cheering her on from the stands as she demonstrated her remarkable skills.

  Based on the old platform of skateboarding, this version involved colorfully decorated boards that floated four inches above the floor, thanks to a strong magnetic repulsion. Highly charged strips ran along the bottom of each board, while a hidden grid beneath the padded floor provided an antigravitational push. The room’s controlling computer, nicknamed Zoomer, fed random pulses through the grid, creating a surge that could be felt by the rider. The object was to ride that magnetic surge as it propelled the board through twists and turns. Once a rider became overconfident—and out of control—it often meant a dramatic spill, much to the delight of the spectators. No two trips around the room were ever the same.

  Roc’s comments during their earlier conversation had slowly filtered through. It had indeed been quite a long time since he had visited the track, time that he had dedicated to work and study. But now, sitting here, he realized how much he had missed it. And, if done in moderation, it was good for him.

  Gap studied Ariel’s technique. His own boarding skills, he was sure, had likely declined somewhat in the past few months through the inactivity. Taking a hard fall didn’t concern him as much as the earful he would get afterward from Ariel.

  After a few minutes, however, his mind began to wander. He tapped his helmet absentmindedly and thought about the Airboarding lesson that he had given to Hannah. A knot began to form in his stomach as he recalled the joy he’d seen in her face that day, knowing that she treasured this particular connection between them. Their time together had been relatively brief, but still included so many good memories.

  And yet it had ended badly. Every time his mind rewound to their last conversation, Gap felt shame and regret. The outcome, he was convinced, was right at the time; the manner in which he had handled it, however, was another story.

  Now they weren’t on speaking terms, a decision that was squarely hers, yet he had not gone out of his way to make amends, either. On more than one occasion he had either started an email, or watched to see if she ended up alone in the Dining Hall … only to change his mind.

  Or chicken out, which was probably more accurate, he decided.

  Besides, there were still the lingering thoughts of Triana. It seemed that barely a few days went by without his mind drifting in that direction, just as it had when he spoke to her recently in the Dining Hall. He would often replay the heartbreak that he had felt shortly after the launch, when he secretly witnessed a touching moment between Tree and Bon. It was an experience that had prevented him from exploring any other possibilities with her. Yet she had shown no other indication that she held strong feelings for Bon; or, he thought bitterly, perhaps he simply had not seen it.

  During the tense episode with Merit, he had grown frustrated and angry with Triana, and had even raised his voice to her. Yet they both had apparently written it off to nerves and stress, although it had never been formally addressed. Gap had even considered resigning from the Council; a cooling-off period eased those thoughts as well. The past several weeks had seen their relationship settle into one that was respectful and professional.

  “But I do care about her,” he thought. “I suppose I always will.”

  Not for the first time, he reasoned that the smartest thing he could do would be to move on completely, to give up any hopes of rekindling a romance with Hannah, or beginning something new with Triana. The fact that he and Triana worked together on the Council was yet another factor; how would that go over with everyone else?

  He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall. His mother had often accused him of having what she called a monkey brain; overly active, constantly analyzing. It often had kept him awake late into the night, and rarely produced the results he sought. Now, years later, things had not changed at all. He still had a monkey brain.

  In front of him, on the Airboarding track, Ariel’s speed caught up with her and she appeared to lose the feel of the current. Rather than take a painful tumble, she gracefully leapt from the board and hit the floor running, eventually diving to the ground in a controlled roll. The move brought a round of cheers from the assembled crew members, few of whom shared Ariel’s skills. They appreciated her athleticism, and the applause was genuine.

  From the front row somebody hailed Gap to let him know that it was his turn. He cleared the remaining thoughts of Hannah and Triana from his mind and began putting on his helmet. With a chuckle he remembered the primary reason for taking a run at this time: he wanted to calm some of the jitters that had begun to develop over his upcoming EVA. “Well,” he thought as he buckled the straps beneath his chin, “trouble with vultures is no match for trouble with women.”

  He climbed down from the bleachers and collected his brightly colored Airboard from against the wall. Within a minute he was aloft and building up speed around the room, consciously aware of protecting his left shoulder in the event of a ditch. Although his collarbone was fully healed from an earlier spill, the phantom ache was enough to cause him to alter his stance and, to his chagrin, his natural aggressiveness.

  It wasn’t long before a smile was stretched across his face. Thoughts of Triana, Hannah, and the vultures had been displaced by the joy of the rid
e. The monkey brain—at least for the time being—was calm.

  * * *

  The secluded clearing in the dome had, in an unspoken manner, become their spot, their own personal shelter. Alexa sat staring at the ground, fidgeting with clumps of soil. Bon sat nearby, his arms around his knees, staring quietly at her. She had started and stopped the conversation several times, and Bon knew that the dreams had returned; the details were missing, but he was prepared to wait.

  “I’m sorry to always be like this,” she mumbled. “I feel like every time I talk to you these days I’m a wreck. It can’t be any fun for you. I even promised myself that this time I would deal with it without dragging you into it. But…”

  His eyes never left her face. “We’ve been over this already. You’ve listened to me often enough; you’re going through a difficult stretch right now. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. I just…” She finally made eye contact with him. “I don’t want to be a whiner.”

  “Quite honestly, Alexa, it’s more frustrating for me when you drag it out. I’d rather you just tell me what’s going on.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile that flashed across her face. Once again his directness cut through the clutter.

  “Okay,” she said. “I get it.” She picked up the dirt clod that she had been rolling on the ground and tossed it into the dense rows of corn that acted as their walls. Taking a deep breath, she said, “This time the dream definitely involved me, but I’m wondering if it might not involve everyone else, too.”

  She spent a few minutes describing her vision: the flash of light, the suffocating darkness, the pain. She talked about what it might mean; was it an indication of what lay ahead for her, or did it somehow project what might befall the crew of Galahad in general? Or, she mused, was it all metaphor? Did the darkness represent a cloudy, unpredictable future?

  Bon listened attentively, without interrupting. He didn’t fully understand what Alexa was experiencing, but he also couldn’t discount it. Six months earlier he would have been among the most skeptical, but his own supernatural contact with the Cassini had taught him that anything was possible … and believable. The cosmos might be infinite and mysterious, but he had reached the conclusion that the human mind was an infinitely mystical universe itself, perhaps one that would never be fully explored or understood.

  He could practically feel the fear emanating from her, with which he could empathize. And although he couldn’t deny that a connection had developed between them, he was unsure of how to alleviate that fear. She knew him too well, understood the way his rational—some would say cold, calculating—mind operated; were he to embrace her and say that everything was going to be okay, she would immediately reject it as false. His methods, and his very style of living, now restricted his ability to soothe her.

  Before he could offer his thoughts, Alexa added a postscript: “I know we’ve already talked about this; it’s really not much different than the last time I opened up to you. But I have to tell you, what’s really frightening me is the connection with the vulture.”

  “What do you mean?” Bon said. “What connection?”

  “Lita and I have spent several hours with it, running test after test. We’re trying to learn more about its power source, trying to find out if Roc’s theory about dark energy is right. And that means I’ve had to be close to it. Really close. And Bon, from the moment I walked into Sick House and saw it … I mean, from the very first instant, I felt something click.”

  He studied her, trying to gather exactly what she was inferring. He shook his head. “You’re gonna have to explain that. What clicked?”

  Alexa licked her lips nervously. “When I first saw it in person, it felt…” She paused. “Familiar.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “In what way?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that, really. It just felt familiar, like I’d been in contact with it before. Which I know makes no sense and sounds crazy. I’ve spent a lot of time with it, and wracked my brain trying to figure out what it all means. Why would this alien creature seem familiar to me? Until these last few days, none of us could even have imagined it. It has really creeped me out, though. I mean, I walked into that room, got that vibe, and immediately wanted to stay as far away from it as I could. Which has really been a problem, since it’s my job to study it.

  “And then, it finally made sense. I finally figured out where that feeling is coming from.”

  Bon leapt ahead. “Your dreams.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I haven’t specifically had a single vision of these vultures. But somehow they’re connected. I know it. Somehow this thing has a part in my dreams, and that’s why it feels so familiar.” She searched for another clod and began to roll it along the ground. “The minute we get this thing off the ship I’ll feel better.”

  “Are you almost finished with your tests?”

  “I think so. It’s mostly just a matter of interpreting the data now, and Roc’s working on it. A lot of it has to do with their communication, too, and we want to see how this thing responds when Gap takes on the ones outside. We’ll hopefully learn what we need then, and we can boot it out the Spider bay doors.”

  She shuddered. “I know it’s my job, it’s what I trained for, but I’m anxious to be done with this particular job.” She gave him a look that seemed to beg understanding. “Listen, I know how all of this sounds. You’re sweet for talking with me, and I know there’s really no answer. But because this time it seemed more … personal, I really just wanted to voice it.” She peered into his eyes. “Does that make sense?”

  Bon kept his gaze firm. “It makes sense for you, and that’s all that matters. You should know by now that my philosophy is one of individualism. What works for one person doesn’t necessarily work for another; it’s when people don’t recognize this that there’s conflict. People usually judge how others deal with problems by comparing it to how they would deal with them. So, if talking helps, you should definitely talk. If you want an answer from me, I’ll be happy to give one.”

  Alexa looked back at the ground and seemed to contemplate his offer. When she spoke, her voice had grown quiet. “I appreciate that, but I think I’ll be okay now.” Taking him by surprise, she suddenly pushed herself up onto her knees, leaned across to him, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, she stared into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Bon sat frozen. His gaze shifted back and forth between her eyes, but he had been caught completely off guard.

  Alexa pushed herself back into a sitting position. “Well, that didn’t go over the way I had envisioned. Sorry about that. Just an impulse.”

  “No,” he said. “No, you don’t need to apologize. It’s fine.” Even as the words came out he knew they sounded forced.

  She turned her head and stared out at the crops surrounding them, as if searching for something. “Are you … are you interested in someone else?”

  He felt his breath catch. How had the conversation turned this way? “Alexa…” he said, as gently as he was able.

  She startled him by suddenly laughing. “Boy, do I know how to ruin a moment! Just forget I asked that question, okay? I’m not myself these days, that’s all.”

  Bon felt his face flush. He hadn’t felt this awkward since …

  Since the last time he was in the Spider bay control room.

  With Triana.

  In a flash, Alexa was on her feet. She brushed the soil from her pants, then from her hands. “Really, you’re wonderful for always talking with me about this stuff. I’m sorry again if I made you uncomfortable. Please, let’s forget about it, okay?” She laughed again. “Next time I promise I’ll keep my lips to myself.”

  Before he could respond, she touched him lightly on the shoulder, smiled down at him, and pushed her way out of the clearing toward the path that led to the lifts. It had all happened so quickly that Bon was still sitting in the same position, his hands around his knees. He stared after
her for a minute, then climbed to his feet. He let out a long breath and followed the way she had left.

  A few minutes later he walked into his office in Dome 1, his thoughts still a blur. He couldn’t deny that the last two months had seen an intimate connection develop with Alexa; but in his mind it was an intellectual intimacy, a bond that always stopped short of becoming emotional.

  In his mind.

  Now, standing over his desk—he rarely sat, even when working on the computer—he looked at the various papers, notes, his workpad … and saw none of it. Instead he replayed what had just taken place, and for the first time began to see what had eluded him. Of course the signals had been there; he was a fool to have been taken by surprise by Alexa’s kiss and question.

  Their relationship, as she had pointed out, was unique and strong. And, as he had realized for himself, it involved an intimacy that few people shared. They met privately a couple of times every week, they were both unattached, available …

  Why not, Bon wondered. Alexa was attractive, intelligent, a hard worker, and—as he had discovered in the clearing—interested in him. Why wouldn’t he be open to that? What, other than his almost obsessive devotion to work, would keep him from exploring that possibility?

  And yet he knew the answer. It gnawed at him because he didn’t like it, and had even spent months in denial. There was a reason why he hadn’t seen the potential of Alexa, even though she was right there in front of him all this time. He knew.

  Reaching for his keyboard, he typed in a quick password that opened a private file on his vidscreen. The file contained a solitary image. He opened it.

  The screen filled with a picture of Triana, taken from the press packages that had circulated before the launch. It was a candid photo of her sitting at Galahad’s training facility, bent over what appeared to be a journal, her head supported by one hand while the other clutched a pen. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a tail, and her vivid green eyes were focused on the page before her.