by Dom Testa
When the two minutes had passed, however, it was still solidly attached to the hull of the ship. Mira brought the oxygen gun to bear and squeezed off another three-second burst.
Once again, the reaction was instantaneous. This time, however, the colors momentarily blinded Gap and Mira because the vulture disengaged from Galahad’s outer skin; the movement happened in the blink of an eye.
Before he could bring a hand up to shield his eyes, Gap was able to make out the large black shape rocketing past his window.
At the same time he heard a shriek come from the intercom.
It was Lita, crying out from Sick House.
21
Channy sat alone in the Rec Room, unaware of what was transpiring with the vultures. She technically was on duty, but had left the gym just as a yoga and stretching class was scheduled to begin; she’d put that in the hands of one of her assistants. When the message from Taresh had come in, she had wasted no time scrambling to meet him.
She had fought the urge to arrive early, and instead had wandered along the corridors one level below the Rec Room just to pass the time … which seemed to drag along. Even so, walking in the door at precisely the time Taresh had suggested, she was disappointed to find the room empty. She debated walking out again, if for no other reason than to have him wait for her, but quickly decided to sit patiently and wait. Besides, she reasoned, if he should be walking in as she walked out, it would make for an awkward explanation.
“Please stop overthinking,” she said to herself. “Please.”
But that had become so difficult for her. She seemed to have lost all control of her rational mind; her recent tense conversations with Kylie and Lita—Lita, of all people!—was evidence enough that she was not herself anymore. An obsessed stranger had taken over her body.
Now those obsessive thoughts turned to the meeting that Taresh had requested. He must have reached a decision, she thought. Did the location that he had suggested for their meeting have any significance? After all, they had spent several hours in this room during Game Nights; they had shared private talks here, too. If this was indeed one of their special places, shouldn’t that mean that he had decided to abandon his family’s wishes and do what was right for both of them?
Or was it simply that this room offered the best chance for privacy at this time of day?
“Good thing I stopped overthinking,” she thought, but there was no smile to accompany it.
She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Taresh briskly walked in, a look of apology on his face.
“Channy, I’m sorry that I’m late.”
She forced an upbeat note into her voice. “Oh, it’s no problem. I just got here myself. You’re off work today, right?”
“Well, yes and no. I’m not scheduled, but with all of the action going on with the vultures, I’m going to head off to Engineering and just see if they need anything.”
Channy felt a quizzical look cross her face at the mention of the vultures. “Oh, right, the vultures.” She now felt completely out of the loop, and the regrets for her behavior at the Council meeting rushed back. “Yeah, it’s pretty exciting,” she said. “I think I might check it out somewhere, too.”
Taresh gave her an odd look. “I would think that Triana might have assigned a chore to you already. Well, I won’t take up much of your time, but I wanted to visit with you as soon as possible.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “So what’s up?”
He pulled out a chair and sat next to her. For a few seconds he seemed to be lost for words, and shifted his gaze from the floor to his hands, then back again. Finally, he exhaled loudly and focused on her.
“I know we’ve grown very close these last few weeks, and I’m truly very happy about that. You are one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met.”
Channy felt her spine stiffen. The foundation for the “friendship” speech was being laid.
“You have been very upfront with me,” he continued. “And I’ve tried to be the same with you. It’s confusing, really, because you know that my heart pulls me one direction, while my dedication to my family pulls me another.”
Channy opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand. “No,” he said, “let me get this all out, please. We can talk about it then, if you want, but I have to say this first.”
Now he put his hand over hers on the table. “I’m sure that I’ve done a terrible job of trying to explain things. I’m not sure that I understand it all myself, and, believe me, there is much that I question. I’ve stayed awake at night thinking about it, and have tried to find a compromise that works. But … I can’t. I do care about you, Channy, honestly. But as I told you before, I owe a debt to all of those in my family who made it possible for me to even be here. And so, I’m going to honor their wish.”
Channy felt an unusual sensation of cold settle over her. It was exactly the news that she didn’t want to hear; she had tried to prepare herself for it, yet it still stabbed at her heart. She looked down at his hand covering hers, but couldn’t feel it. How could that be?
And how could he have made this decision? Why?
She looked back up at him, waiting for him to say more, but apparently he had said his piece. She swallowed hard before speaking. “So … we’re just going to be friends, is that it?”
His shoulders sagged. “Channy, I know how that sounds. You have to believe me, the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But I can’t start something that I can’t finish. I am beholden to my family—”
“Yes,” she said, more forcefully than she had intended. “Yes, I’ve heard all about your family. I’ve heard about your culture, or tradition, or whatever it is. But if it causes you this much pain, if it’s something you really don’t want to do, then why are you doing it? Hmm? Tell me that, because I don’t understand.”
Taresh stared into her eyes. She saw his lower lip tremble, then suddenly realized that he was merely reacting to the tears that had started to trickle down her face.
“All I can tell you,” he said softly, “is that sometimes the right thing to do is the most difficult thing to do.”
She pulled her hand away from his, although he tried to hold on. She stood up and paced a few feet away. “So just friends, right? You never answered me. Game Night, lunch sometimes, a dinner now and then. Maybe a few laughs in the gym. Friends.”
Now his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’d like to be friends with you. I won’t blame you if you say no, but I’d like for us to remain close. Yes.”
She crossed her arms and looked back at him. “I’ll have to get back with you on that.”
He didn’t react at first, then simply nodded and looked back at the floor. “I’m very sorry.”
“Yes, me, too,” she said. “Very sorry.”
A minute passed in silence. Then Taresh pushed back his chair and faced her.
“I have no business asking this,” he said. “But … I really would like to give you a hug. Would that be okay?”
Another round of silent tears began to spill down Channy’s face, but she fought away the sound of sobs.
“I’ll have to get back with you on that, too.”
Again he nodded. Without another word he turned and left the Rec Room.
Alone, she limped back to the table, sat down, and buried her face in her hands.
* * *
They all heard Lita’s cry. Triana, standing at one of the science terminals in the Control Room, felt a jolt of adrenaline streak through her body. She’d heard her friend express happiness, grief, joy, even fear, but she’d never known Lita to cry out like this. It was the sound of shock and terror, and had the same effect on everyone stationed in Galahad’s nerve center. They turned to stare at Triana, their mouths open, their eyes wide.
In the aftermath of the shout came the sound of chaos through the intercom. Triana knew it had to be coming from Sick House.
She did her best to keep her voice under control. “Lit
a, report.” There was no answer, only the continued garble of frantic activity. “Lita, what’s going on?” Again, no direct response.
Gap’s voice broke through from the Spider. “Tree! What was that?”
“I have no idea. I can’t get through to Lita. Get back here right away.”
“Done,” he said.
Triana summoned the ship’s computer. “Roc, tell me what’s happened in Sick House.”
“There’s been a breach of the containment vessel.”
“What?” Triana shouted. “The vulture?”
“Yes,” Roc said. “During this last oxygen blast upon the leader outside, the captive vulture in Sick House somehow manipulated the controls on the containment box. It burst out and attacked.”
Triana’s heart nearly stopped. “Lita?”
“No,” Roc answered. “Alexa. She was kneeling at the data ports when it flew out. It has attached itself to her upper body.”
Before he had finished the sentence, Triana bolted for the door and began to race toward Sick House. She automatically began to second-guess her decision to allow additional study on the alien. They had so desperately wanted to find out more about its ability to exploit the power of dark energy; now that curiosity might have had tragic results. She tried to rationalize that the oxygen in the air at Sick House was their ally, and could very well render the vulture catatonic immediately.
But Lita had not answered her calls.
She raced around the gentle turn that led to Sick House and saw a cluster of crew members gathered around the open door. They turned to see her approaching at a run, and parted to allow her inside. She sprinted through the outer office, past Lita’s desk, past Alexa’s work space, and could hear the commotion as she neared the lab.
A knot of people moved like an ant colony, shuffling quickly in and out of the swarm. Triana pulled up and could see Lita, down on one knee beside the empty containment box, huddled over a dark mass.
It was the vulture. The rest of the view caused Triana’s stomach to roll, and she came close to vomiting.
The alien had enveloped Alexa’s upper body. Its jet-black wings had folded around her, while the main torso covered her chest, neck, and head. Even her arms had been pinned within the wedge shape. Only Alexa’s legs protruded; they were twisted to one side, and still.
Lita held a set of metal surgical pliers. She worked feverishly, attempting to pry the wings away from Alexa’s body, but could not maintain a solid grip. If she noticed that Triana had arrived, she didn’t show it. Instead, she dispensed instructions to the crew helping her, and a few seconds later one of the workers knelt beside her with a portable oxygen canister.
“Stand back,” Lita said. When a space had been cleared, she pressed the nozzle against the spine of the vulture and released a stream. There was no effect. She tossed the canister aside and once again began trying to attach the pliers to the creature. At the same time she called out for a surgical scalpel.
Triana bent down beside her. “Do you think you’ll be able to cut through this thing?”
Lita kept her attention fully on the task at hand, but said, “I don’t know. We might have to saw it away. I’m just trying to protect Alexa as much as possible, but if we don’t get this off her right now…” Her voice faded away, and Triana knew exactly what that meant.
Triana moved out of her way as another assistant dropped down with the set of surgical knives. She watched Lita set down the pliers, pick up a knife, and hand two others to her assistants. Together the three of them began to work on the hard outer shell of the vulture, working intensely while at the same time obviously taking pains to not accidentally cut into Alexa. Triana could only imagine how difficult it was.
“C’mon,” she heard Lita grunt in frustration. There seemed to be no progress, and, to make matters worse, Alexa’s legs gave an involuntary twitch that startled the group surrounding her.
Triana knew that the situation was grim. She also understood that time was critical; she estimated that almost five minutes had elapsed since the attack, and there didn’t appear to be any way that Alexa was getting any air. On top of that, who knew how much pressure the vulture was applying to her chest?
Lita obviously understood all of this as well. She quickly abandoned any hope of cutting through the creature with the small blades, and picked up the surgical saw. Triana could hear her consulting with her helpers, trying to determine the best location and angle to remove the dark mass without inflicting equally lethal injuries to Alexa. Time was slipping by, but there was no getting past the necessary planning. Finally, Lita leaned into the work, firing up the saw and placing it against one of the wing joints of the vulture. There was a screech, similar to the sound of metal grinding against metal.
At first there were no discernible results, but soon tension in the wing began to relax. A space opened up in the area of Alexa’s left shoulder. Lita stopped, turned the saw slightly, and began working in another direction. The image that jumped to Triana’s mind was that of a logger working his blade against the trunk of a tree, first in one direction, then another. In this case, the space over Alexa’s body opened a bit farther.
Any joy in the success was tempered by the sight of blood. Triana knew instantly that it didn’t belong to the vulture.
22
The Spider’s specially crafted engines were pushed to their maximum power and thrust, but to Gap it seemed as if the outer skin of Galahad was crawling past. Something had gone terribly wrong in Sick House. How was it possible for there to be—as Roc had put it—a breach in the containment vessel? What had happened to Alexa?
And what had happened to the other vultures?
Gap watched the bay doors loom larger and began the subtle shifts necessary to align the small craft for entry. Roc would take over in just a minute and finish the job of docking.
He and Mira had barely spoken after the blinding flight of the vulture. He had, of course, expected the thing to break away once the oxygen hit, but was still amazed at the speed. If, as they had theorized, the light display was an indicator of communication between the beings, then it likely explained what had triggered the breakout in Sick House. In fact, he began to grow concerned that perhaps they had inadvertently provoked the vulture into aggression.
He could only hope that no one had been hurt.
“Taking over guidance,” Roc said. Gap sat back and, like Mira, became a passenger and spectator. Within a few minutes the Spider was securely docked, the bay door closed, and the large hangar began to pressurize. Gap unbuckled his safety harness and started on the checklist to shut down the Spider. No further calls had come in from Sick House, or from Triana; that could mean that things were either fine and under control, or that there was a crisis under way.
Suddenly, the ship lurched. Without the arms of his chair to keep him in place, Gap knew he would have been thrown to the floor. At the same time, the lights in the Spider bay, and in the small metal craft itself, flickered off briefly, then back on again. For a span of about five seconds Gap felt himself assaulted physically: his stomach twisted and turned, and he barely kept himself from throwing up. He also believed he was on the verge of passing out. His vision clouded and his ears popped, as if he had quickly dropped several hundred feet. He gripped the arm of his chair and closed his eyes until the sensation passed.
Once he felt back to normal, he turned to check on Mira. She had not yet unbuckled her harness, and it was holding her in place. Yet she was slumped forward, her chin almost against her chest and her hair spilling into her lap. Gap was relieved to see that she was breathing.
“Mira,” he called out. She stirred slightly, and a soft grunt escaped from her mouth. He called her name again.
“What … was that?” she uttered.
“Are you okay?” he said, climbing from his seat and kneeling next to her. He pulled her back against her seat. She opened her eyes wide, trying to focus, then blinked hard several times. When she turned to look at him, it was
the gaze of someone who had been shell-shocked.
“I think I’m okay,” she said, then repeated her question: “What was that?”
Gap looked out the window into the bay, which had finished pressurizing. He saw two crew members enter from the hangar’s control room and begin walking toward the Spider; they seemed a bit shaky themselves. “I have no idea. Let’s find out.” He called out to the computer. “Roc, you still with us?”
“This is extraordinary,” Roc said. “The vultures—or their creators, which is more likely—just gave us another lesson in how little we know about the universe and its power.”
“What happened?” Gap said. “Did they attack us?”
“Not at all. The best way to describe it, I think, is that they took the expressway home.”
Gap sighed. “Can you be more specific?”
“I can try, but I’m still putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Once the leader bolted from his place on the outside of our ship, he immediately summoned the others. I was able to follow their movements, and I tracked them as they fell into formation. Once they were together, they formed a rough circle. That’s where the fun began. The light show we saw before was nothing compared to this.”
“So, that shock we felt,” Gap said. “Was it a wave of dark energy communication?”
“Oh, no,” Roc said. “It was much more than that. Apparently our guests pooled their dark energy engines and used them to warp time and space for their own uses.”
Gap said, “What does that mean? What did they do?”
“The shock wave we felt was caused by the opening and closing of what physicists have nicknamed a wormhole.”
Mira let out a gasp. “A wormhole? I can’t believe it! I’ve read so much about them. There was a wormhole right here?”
“That’s correct,” Roc said. “Briefly, anyway. Somehow the vultures summoned it, it opened up, they disappeared inside, and then it was gone. All in a matter of seconds.”
