Cosmic Storm

by Dom Testa

  Maybe confront is too strong of a word; how about “bring it to their attention”?

  Regardless, I believe the average person would rather let it go and not make waves. But, because of that, it also means you have an entire subset of people who KNOW that people won’t call them on something, and so they learn to therefore take advantage of the situation.

  Does that make sense? No? Apparently you’re not as keen of an observer as I am, but don’t let that get you down. Just consider this: Bon seems to keep a lot of secrets tucked away behind a screen that’s coated with a gruff varnish. Most people are too intimidated to even poke around behind that screen, which is probably what he’s counting on.

  But not Lita. Remember what I said about her profound thinking? This girl is all about the truth.

  * * *

  The late afternoon irrigation schedule was underway, so as Lita walked out of the lift into Dome 1 she inhaled the humid air and immediately imagined a sunny day on the beach near her home in Veracruz. The salty sea air had always invigorated her. Now, when she was fortunate enough to experience a similar feeling in Galahad’s domed Farms, she instantly thought of home.

  Splashing across the coarse sand at the water’s edge, listening to the roar as the late-day waves relentlessly pounded the coastline, she could never stifle a laugh. This, to her, was the ultimate expression of Earth’s life cycle. Land that had furiously burst from the ocean floor, courtesy of the planet’s tectonic convulsions, was then gradually torn apart, one wave at a time. Wave after wave, year after year, for eons. The ocean fought to wear down the continent that had pushed it aside, to get the final word in the tug-of-war between sea and sand … only to have the process begin anew with another volcanic eruption.

  It was one of the reasons she kept the small glass cube on her desk in Sick House. It was not only a reminder of home, but a reminder of the universe’s cyclical dance. It seemed one force always sought to wear down another.

  Galahad was running head-on into its own waves.

  As she approached Bon’s office she saw him exit and begin to march down a trail towards the far side of the dome. She quickened her pace to catch him, reluctant to call out his name until she got closer. Like everything else about him, however, Bon’s stride was determined and intense. They were deep into a field of potatoes, the path cutting diagonally across the crop, when she closed to within thirty feet of him.

  “Bon, hold up a second,” she said, winded.

  He stopped and turned, mild surprise on his face. “What are you doing here?”

  Lita covered the distance between them and stood with her hands on her hips, trying not to show him how hard she was breathing. “We need to finish our discussion.”

  “Why? You don’t seem open to negotiation on the subject.”

  “I might surprise you,” she said. “Is there someplace nearby where we can sit down and talk?”

  Bon gestured with his head. “Up ahead. It’s where I’m going anyway, another irrigation pump that’s acting up. Again.”

  She ignored his irritation and pointed down the path. “After you.”

  Two minutes later they crossed over into a grove of fruit trees, and soon after that came upon the gray irrigation pump box. Beside it was a small bench. Lita sat down, while Bon leaned against the box.

  “Well?” he said.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking about you and your stubborn refusal to talk to us about this.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out the translator. She noticed that Bon’s eyes grew wide for a split second, then he crossed his arms and appeared nonchalant.

  “It didn’t make sense to me for a long time,” Lita continued. “I heard about your request to the Cassini: ‘Where is she?’ you said. Well, why wouldn’t you want us to know about that? Why wouldn’t you want our help? We all care about Triana, we’re all scared to death about what’s happened to her, and we all want her back. I’ve always felt, like I told you, that there was something between you two, but I don’t think even you knew exactly what that was.”

  She paused and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

  “So why, I wondered over and over again, would you possibly want to do a search for her without including us? If the Cassini were able to help, we would eventually have to be brought into it at some point. So why shut us out?”

  Bon shifted his weight but kept his arms crossed, the classic pose of defensiveness and stonewalling. Lita knew he would offer nothing in return to her questions. He blinked once or twice.

  “And then, after we spoke in the Dining Hall, I did some thinking. It slowly dawned on me that I was dead wrong about your connection. In fact, we were all wrong, weren’t we?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  A slow smile spread across Lita’s face. “Yes, you do. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop the games. All of us were a bit surprised when we thought you were using the link to probe the galaxy, looking for Triana. I mean, it’s touching … but it’s not what you were doing.”

  “And what was I doing?”

  Lita paused before saying, “Looking for Alexa.”

  For what seemed an eternity they stared at each other without moving, without uttering another sound. At last Bon broke eye contact and turned his head to look back down the path they’d walked. Lita nodded slowly.

  “Uh-huh. It hit me when I realized that you never really confirmed that you were looking for Triana. In fact, all of your answers were intentionally vague and erratic. It’s like you were playing some sort of game with us: answering the questions so that we thought this was about Triana, but never actually lying to us.

  “And the more I turned this over in my head, the more I realized that, if it was about Tree, you would certainly have brought us in. But no. The only reason you would insist on doing this by yourself, the only reason you would risk the medical danger that you did, was because your guilt has driven you to seek some sort of connection to a dead girl that you feel you let down.”

  When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I did let her down.”

  Lita sat back on the bench. “Okay, maybe you did. I know this is where I’m supposed to offer you pity and support and say something like, ‘No, Bon, you did nothing wrong.’ But I think on some level that, yes, you probably did let her down. She reached out to you because she thought you would help her navigate through the fear. And, in the process, she fell for you a bit. But, although you were drawn to the freaky parallels of your … your mutual oddities, let’s say … you never shared the same feelings. And I think that has eaten at you since the day she died.”

  He turned to look back at her. “And what if it has? What business is it of yours? Like I told all of you, this is personal.”

  “Bon,” Lita said, her voice growing tender. “Listen to me. I’m not condemning the fact that you didn’t return Alexa’s feelings. In fact, I’ve got a feeling that Triana is at the heart of that. If you let Alexa down—if, I’m saying—it might have been in the way you made her feel completely alone when she was sure she had someone who could walk her through her … uniqueness. You were, in her eyes, a kindred spirit, and yet you didn’t always act that way.”

  He sat down in the soil, resting his back against the pump box, and clasped his arms around his knees. Lita watched him, her heart aching for him. She rose from the bench and walked over to him, settling onto the soil at his side.

  “I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” she said. “If anything, I’m trying to help. I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened; nobody could possibly have known what would happen with that vulture. Nobody.”

  “Alexa knew,” Bon said.

  “No. You said that she saw darkness, and she felt heaviness. And a strange feeling when she was around the vulture. But she didn’t know that it would attack her.”

  Bon only shook his head.

  “I understand how you feel,” Lita said. “And I do
n’t blame you for what you did with this.” She held up the translator. “I just wish you had come to me, and confided in me. Alexa was my friend, too, you know.”

  She reached over to place a hand on his arm. “Did they tell you anything?”

  Bon’s head snapped around. “What?”

  “Did the Cassini tell you anything?”

  He peered into her eyes. “Are you serious? I thought you were angry about that.”

  “Of course I was angry. You should have come to me. We have no idea what these links will end up doing to you. But we do know that they’re changing you.”

  “How?”

  Lita removed her hand from his arm. “The scans that we ran on you are interesting. I compared them to the scans you had before the launch, along with the scans we made after the first contact back at Saturn. Your left cerebral hemisphere is undergoing some changes.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Well, without getting too technical, two portions are expanding. One is called Wernicke’s Area, the other Broca’s Area. They both involve speech, whether it’s language recognition or speech production. In other words, the Cassini are modifying your brain to allow you to communicate—and understand—their transmissions. Maybe even without needing the translator. At least that’s my guess.”

  “So I really am becoming a freak,” Bon said, shaking his head.

  “I didn’t say you were growing another head, it’s just that the one you have is being remodeled. It’s probably one of the reasons why Triana limited your access to the translator in the first place; she was just as worried as I am about all of the unknowns involved. And it’s why you’re certainly not connecting again without me around. Understand?”

  He gazed back and forth between her eyes, attempting, it seemed, to read her thoughts. “Without you around. So … are you giving the translator back to me?”

  “Tell me what you learned from the Cassini.”

  “Why?”

  Lita drew lines in the soil. “Call it scientific curiosity.”

  He hesitated before responding. “I … I don’t really know what they said. They tried to plant information into my head, but I passed out before anything substantial took hold.”

  “But you think they were answering your question?”

  He nodded. “I think so.”

  She continued to scrape at the soil with her finger. “A line between this world, and the world of the hereafter…”

  Bon gave her a curious look. “I don’t believe this. You were furious at me for using the translator, and now you’re … what? Becoming an accomplice?”

  Lita smiled. “I told you, it’s scientific curiosity.”

  He kept his gaze on her face, then suddenly raised his eyebrows. “Wait a minute,” he said. “It’s not just the science. You’re talking to me about my guilt; but if the Cassini really are redesigning my brain, there’s no way you’d let me connect again unless…”

  Lita felt her heart rate pick up. “Unless what?”

  Bon gave a slight nod. “Unless you’re trying to deal with feelings of guilt yourself.” When Lita didn’t respond, he nodded again. “Of course. You’ve been beating yourself up over Alexa since the operation. You did nothing wrong then, and you did nothing wrong with the vulture, and yet—”

  Lita cut him off by putting a hand over his mouth. “All right. That’s enough.”

  His eyes were like lasers. He gently reached up and pulled her hand away. “As soon as you figured out what I’ve been doing, you didn’t go to Gap or the Council. You came here, to talk with me. You want me to reach Alexa, don’t you? Say what you want about the science, but you want to make sure she’s okay, too. Somewhere. Somehow.”

  She was silent again, but in her mind she saw Manu’s amulet hanging from the vidscreen. Faith. Fate. Science. Did any of those pieces fit together at all? Was she scrambling to make them fit, motivated by her own feelings of guilt? Was she being completely honest with Bon—and with herself—by claiming a purely scientific curiosity? The fact that she sidestepped the Council and came straight to Bon answered some of those questions.

  She stood up and brushed the dirt off her pants. Slipping the translator back into her pocket, she said, “Let’s keep this little discussion to ourselves for right now, okay? I’ll talk with you about it later.”

  Bon could only stare up at her, scanning her face. Lita looked away, determined that he not see that her eyes had become wet.

  Before either could say another word, their world erupted. A searing, blinding flash of light exploded through the clear panels of the dome. Lita and Bon both grunted in pain, clamping their eyes shut and throwing up hands to shield their faces. As quickly as it happened, it was gone.

  22

  The strain of it all eventually led Gap to one of the few places where he felt at home and at ease. Twenty minutes atop his Airboard gave him the opportunity to temporarily abandon any thoughts of the wormholes, the radiation crisis, the mystifying lightning flashes, the election, and Hannah. He cruised on his board, mere inches above the padded floor, riding the invisible force of gravity, feeling the ebb and flow of the attraction and adjusting his weight to steer. He kept his speed at an exhilarating level, but nowhere near his personal best. Today was not about setting records; it was about escape.

  It was just after five o’clock. The voting window had closed two hours earlier, and Roc would be announcing the results at six. That should have dominated his thoughts, yet he couldn’t take his mind off the conversation he’d had with Hannah. Suddenly the outcome of the Council Leader election took a backseat to her admission that she still cared for him. He grappled with whether or not he’d handled this news the right way. He’d simply responded that he felt the same way; should he have reached over and taken her into his arms?

  Why did it have to be so hard?

  After bantering with a few fellow die-hard Boarders in the bleachers—and thanking them for their hearty cries of good luck—Gap hefted his Airboard and trudged out of the room. As he made his way towards the lift on the lower level, he wondered whether it would be a good idea to stop by the Dining Hall after his shower, or whether it would be best to hear the news alone, in his room. If he won, it might be nice to be among fellow crew members. On the other hand, if he lost …

  He came into view of the lift. At the same time he saw a figure, apparently having just stepped out of the lift, moving off in the opposite direction. He barely caught a glimpse before the person rounded the bend, heading down the corridor towards the Spider bay. But who would have business there? There were no maintenance assignments currently scheduled.

  Curious, he tucked his Airboard under one arm and followed.

  As he approached another turn, just before his favorite viewing window on the ship, he heard voices ahead. One voice in particular jumped out: Hannah’s.

  He crept up to the bend but stayed out of sight. There was no doubt that it was Hannah who was speaking.

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I’m prepared for either result. In fact, I might actually feel relief if Gap wins.”

  The other person—presumably the figure Gap had seen walking away from the lift—gave only a low chuckle. It had a condescending ring to it.

  “Laugh if you want,” he heard Hannah say. “It shouldn’t be news to you, not after all the times we’ve talked about this.”

  The moment he heard the reply, Gap froze. The voice was unmistakable.

  “You have such a flair for being dramatic,” Merit said. “Even when you’re not trying to be. It must be the artistic side of you, the creative and rebellious gene that all artists seem to have. It doesn’t change the fact that everything has gone exactly as we hoped so far. You easily won both of the forums, and the crew is behind you.”

  It was almost too much for Gap to handle. Merit? Merit was behind Hannah’s run for office? He leaned against the wall, his heart slamming against his chest.

  “The crew is behind Gap as well,” Hannah said. “Rega
rdless of the scare tactic you tried with that post—yes, I know it was you, don’t give me that look. You’re so confident about these election results, and I’m telling you right now that it could easily go either way.”

  “They loved your theory,” Merit said.

  “Sure. But it’s another story when it comes to selecting someone to implement the ideas. Gap made great points, and his solution is just as viable as mine.”

  Gap wanted to run, run back to the lift, back to his room, seal himself inside and never come out. Instead, before he knew what he was doing, he pushed away from the wall and stepped around the bend.

  Merit’s back was to him. Hannah, however, looked over Merit’s shoulder and saw Gap immediately. Her mouth dropped open. Merit, seeing the look, spun around. His face, too, registered surprise at first. But then, slowly, a defiant smirk took over.

  “Gap…” Hannah said.

  Gap felt the blood rush to his face. He let the Airboard slip to the floor, and his hands balled into fists at his side. “So … the two of you…”

  Hannah stepped around Merit. “Gap, wait. I—”

  “Don’t bother,” Gap said. “I couldn’t believe it when you agreed to run for election, but now it all makes sense. You both had an ax to grind with me; what better way to get revenge, right? Team up to crush me.”

  “No, Gap, it’s not like that.”

  “Really? Sure seems like it.” Gap shook his head. “And to think I actually believed what you said to me a few hours ago.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Save it.”

  Merit laughed. “What are you so worked up about, Gap? You should just pick up your toy there and go back to the track. We have things to work out.” He gently placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Don’t we, babe?”

  Gap felt an instant flash of rage. He began to take a step toward Merit, but stopped himself. He felt the muscles in his arms stiffen, and his jaw clenched together.

  Hannah spun to face Merit, shoving his hand aside. “Get your hands off me, Merit! Do you hear me? And shut your mouth!”

  “No, let him talk,” Gap said. “I guess it was his idea all along to have you run. He’s the one who nominated you, right, babe? You two are a beautiful couple.”