by Dom Testa
Now, as he and Hannah approached the door that led to the Airboard track, Gap felt that curious tingle again, but decided that it might not be a good idea to mention anything about it to the girl from Alaska. Not that she didn’t have a few interesting quirks of her own, such as lining up her papers with the edge of the table, or making sure that there was an equal number of eating utensils on each side of her plate. Those were cute quirks, he told himself.
But telling her that he could “feel” the juice surging under the Airboard track? Maybe some other time.
“This won’t hurt, right?” she asked as the door opened and the swish of a rider zipped past. “I mean, not very much.”
Gap chuckled and put an arm around her shoulder. They stood just inside the room on the lower level of the ship, the one that had been built specifically for this activity. “Nah,” he said. “You’ll have a helmet on, and knee pads and elbow pads. Plus, look at the walls.”
She glanced nervously at the cushioned walls that surrounded them. “Like a little padded cell, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Which is perfect, since Dr. Zimmer thought we were crazy to ever climb aboard one of these things.” He lifted the sleek Airboard that he held with his free hand. It resembled an old-fashioned snowboard made popular at ski resorts, but thinner. Each person would add their own touches of hand-painting to their ride—a tradition that had begun at the very start of the Airboarding craze—and Gap’s silver model featured his own styling of a shooting star. Below that were several Chinese characters, a nod to his native land. He admired his handiwork for a second before returning his attention to Hannah. “But it’s very tough to get hurt in here. Trust me.”
Hannah’s nod didn’t seem very confident. “But,” she said, “didn’t you break your collar bone in here?”
He pulled back from her in mock surprise. “Hey, you’re talking to the reigning Airboard champion on this ship. I move an awful lot faster than you’re going to for your first time.” With a quick peck on her cheek he added, “You’ll be fine. Just try to have fun.”
She nodded again, this time with a smile. “Okay. Now, tell me again how this thing works.”
Gap led her over to the rows of bleachers at the side of the room. They sat down and he began to help her secure her pads.
“Okay, watch this rider for a moment,” he said, indicating the figure that shot past them on a dark blue Airboard. “See how he’s about four inches off the ground? There’s a huge grid of magnetic lines that crisscross under the floor.” He again held up his own board, and pointed at the bottom. “There’s a smaller series of magnets here on your board, set to the same charge as the ones under the floor. As long as you stay over a charged line in the grid, your Airboard will hover, since identical magnetic charges repel each other.”
Hannah nodded. Gap knew that she understood the science involved with Airboarding, but he enjoyed his role as teacher. Although she would mostly be interested only in the technique necessary to stay up, she seemed to be patiently waiting for those particular instructions.
“That’s where Zoomer comes in,” Gap continued. “Zoomer is the computer that flicks those magnetic lines on and off under the floor. As you start moving, you try to ride the magnetic feel under your feet. The faster you move, the faster Zoomer will light up the grid under the floor. But that’s where it gets tricky.”
A faint smile crossed Hannah’s lips. Gap was staring out at the track, watching intently as the rider sailed through a turn. She could tell that he felt a lot of passion for this particular sport, obviously even more than the gymnastics that was such an integral part of his childhood. His eyes were twinkling as he explained everything to her.
“See, you really have to get a good sense of where that charge is going to turn on next. If you don’t manage that feel, you’ll shoot off over an un-charged section, and of course you’ll tumble because there’s no magnetic charge keeping your board aloft. And, the faster you’re going, the harder you fall.
“But remember,” he added quickly, “you’re going to be padded up, and wearing a helmet. Plus, you won’t be going too fast your first few times.”
“How do you know?” Hannah said, poking him in the ribs. “I might be a natural.”
At that moment there was a small cry from the track, and they both looked up to watch the rider hit a dead spot on the track and topple to the ground, rolling several times before coming to a rest. The blue Airboard flipped over three times before bouncing to a stop against one of the padded walls. A moment later the rider bounced up, brushed himself off, and jogged to the stands.
“That’s how it will usually end,” Gap said. “If you like tumbling, it’s actually kinda fun.”
Hannah buckled the helmet she had borrowed from a friend. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
A moment later Gap was helping to steady her at the starting point, the charge constant, holding her stationary over a point near the wall. “Feel it?” Gap said, glancing into her wide eyes within the helmet. “That’s what you’re trying to feel as you make your way around the room.”
“I feel it,” she said, holding on to his shoulder while she hovered on the board. “It’s like…it’s like a wave, almost. I feel like I’m surfing or something.”
“Bend your knees a little. That’s it. Now, lean forward a little bit. Not too much. Good. Are you ready?”
Hannah let go of his shoulder and rocked gently. “Uh-huh.”
“Just push off the wall to get started.” He stepped back and surveyed her form. He had promised her this lesson a while ago, but never thought she would actually take him up on it. He wondered who was more nervous.
With a gentle shove, Hannah drifted about ten feet out from the wall before her arms pinwheeled and she jumped to the floor. The board wobbled, then hovered motionless above the magnetic charge.
“Okay,” she said to Gap, “it’s definitely harder than it looks.”
“It just takes a little practice. You’ll get the feel. C’mon, try it again.”
Over the next hour he patiently worked with her, helping her learn the proper way to balance, the best stance to take on the board, and how to pick up the slight change in magnetic push that signaled a turn coming up. They would take small breaks to sit in the bleachers and allow other riders the chance to zip around the room.
“Zoomer changes the pattern of the charge after every single ride,” he told her at one point, “so you’ll never get the same track twice.”
On her last effort Gap was thrilled to watch Hannah almost complete one entire lap around the room before she hit a dead spot and rolled to the floor. When he sprinted over to help her up she was giggling.
“Now I see why you like this silly sport so much,” she said, pulling the helmet off and resting on her heels. “Was I going pretty fast that time?”
“Uh…sure.”
Hannah giggled again. “Okay, so that means no. But it felt like I was flying.”
He helped her to her feet and together they walked toward the exit. He carried the Airboard in one hand and draped his other arm around her shoulder.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “Next time you’ll be even better.” Without a word, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. When he turned to smile at her, she followed up with a kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.
It was shaped roughly like a potato. Pocked with impact scars and craters, all evidence of a violent history that stretched back to the birth of the solar system, it careered through the inky blackness of space, wobbling from side to side. It felt the soft tug of the sun’s gravity which pulled it along in an orbit that took hundreds of years simply to complete one revolution before tirelessly beginning the journey again.
It measured close to two hundred feet from tip to tip, with one end a bit thicker than the other. It had somehow missed detection during the cataloging of Kuiper objects, and so was an unknown rogue, plowing along, mixing with other bodies both large and small.
Directly into the path of Galahad.
6
As the mission evolved, Triana found it unnecessary to hold many Council meetings. Each member knew their responsibilities, and knew the people who answered to them. Triana felt it was tedious to micro-manage, and believed that her Council would operate more efficiently if each department carried out their duties without someone breathing down their necks.
That management style had served her well so far, yet still there were times when it was important to assemble the team for a brief update. It was late afternoon on Galahad as she looked around the table in the Conference Room and met the gazes of the ship’s Council.
Her mind was still racing from the bombshell that Dr. Zimmer had dropped on her. In the nine hours since listening to his message, she had not been able to focus on anything else. Who was this child? Did she work closely with him, or her?
Could it be someone on the Council? No, she knew them too well, knew their personal histories. It couldn’t be one of them.
How many times had she passed this person in the hallways? Had she sat near them at meals, worked out next to them in the gym?
Dr. Zimmer had confided few details to her in his message, other than to say again how sorry he was for keeping the information from her for so long. He had also made it clear that his child, raised by a single mother, had no idea that he was their father.
For now Triana tried to clear the web of mystery from her mind. The Council meeting would help in that respect, especially given the unusual addition to the agenda that she had not shared with her fellow Council members. That would come after the usual business was discussed.
“Lita,” Triana said. “Anything new?”
“I’m extremely happy to report that we’ve gone an entire week without one official visit to Sick House.”
Gap smirked across the table at her. “What do you mean, ‘official’?”
Lita leaned back in her chair. “Well, I usually get a couple of emails from people with questions that they’re embarrassed to ask in person.”
“Like what?”
“Nosy, aren’t you?”
Gap spread his hands, palms up. “Hey, you brought it up.”
“Let’s just say that, although Bon and his group do a tremendous job with the food production on the ship, some people have…uh…delicate digestive systems.”
“Oh,” Gap said, and looked down at the table. “Never mind.” Triana was glad to see that even Bon chuckled at this. She appreciated the playful air that Gap or Channy were always able to bring to what could otherwise be an overly serious meeting.
“I just want to add one other thing to my report,” Lita said. “Even though things have been slow, I can’t stress enough how valuable Alexa has been since the day we launched. Shame on me for not stating this sooner for the Council record, but she’s a hard worker, never complains, volunteers to do extra duty, and generally makes Sick House a lot more pleasant for the people who certainly don’t want to be there.”
“Thank you for sharing that,” Triana said. “We probably don’t do a good enough job of recognizing people like Alexa.”
“Maybe we could institute some kind of award,” Channy said.
“We could call it ‘Crew Member of The Month,’ or something like that.”
Lita and Gap nodded agreement. Triana glanced over at Bon, who, as usual, remained silent until engaged. “Bon, what do you think?”
“Why reward someone for doing what they’re supposed to do?” he said.
Channy snorted. “Gee, what a surprise to hear that coming from you. It’s called motivation, Bon. Ever heard of that?”
He turned his ice blue eyes toward her. “When I was younger, if I didn’t work hard in my father’s crops, I didn’t get dinner. That was pretty good motivation.”
Triana stepped in before things had a chance to turn ugly. “Channy, we’ll consider that idea. Thank you. And thanks again, Lita, for mentioning Alexa.” She looked at Gap. “Engineering?”
“I don’t want to jinx anything,” Gap said, “but the heating problem on Level Six seems to be stable. Don’t ask me how.”
“Are you sure about that?” Channy said, doing her best to keep a straight face. “I could have sworn I saw a couple of guys building a snowman this morning.”
Gap ignored her. “We have our warning system scanning ahead to alert us to any potential collisions in the Belt. I’m amazed at how many pieces of junk are floating around out here. As you know, we do have a limited amount of laser protection that will zap some of the smaller objects before we reach them.
“For the larger objects, we have to change our course and go around them, but that’s Roc’s department.”
The computer’s voice interrupted. “And I must say I’m a little tired of the boulders always getting their way. Next time let’s just honk and see if we can get them to move.”
Triana turned her gaze to Channy. “Your turn.”
“Well,” said the ship’s resident matchmaker, “as badly as some people—and I won’t name names—want me to forget about the Dating Game idea, it’s moving forward, and I expect to send out a sign-up sheet in the crew email very soon.”
When Triana pretended to be absorbed in something on her work pad, Lita chimed in. “Channy, are we able to nominate people who might not sign up on their own?”
“Absolutely!” Channy said. “I know that I can’t force anyone to do anything, but nobody wants to get labeled as a party pooper, right?”
Triana kept her expression flat, and spoke without looking up. “Anything else?”
Channy sat back in her chair. “Maybe another concert pretty soon. The last one was a hit, thanks to our resident superstar here.” She pointed at Lita, who blushed.
“All right,” Triana said, “anything to report from the Farms, Bon?”
The Swede shook his head. “Everything’s fine. The water recyclers that Gap’s people fixed seem to be holding up so far. I’m disappointed with the strawberry crop, but that will turn around. As for something new, you can expect to see fresh corn by this time next month.”
There were murmurs around the table. Bon never would win congeniality awards, but he never let anyone down when it came to his management of the Farms, either.
Triana cleared her throat. “If there’s no other news to report from all of you, then I should tell you that I have granted a Council audience to Merit Simms.”
Lita’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“He has requested a few minutes to address the Council, and that is the right of every person on this crew.”
“I think he might be something of a troublemaker,” Gap said.
“He’s assigned to Engineering right now, and there’s always some sort of a buzz around him.”
The crew members of Galahad rotated their work duties between sections of the ship, with each assignment lasting approximately six weeks. It gave each person the opportunity to understand how the ship functioned, how each department was crucial to their survival and well-being. Four such rotations earned a six-week break, then the cycle began again.
“Are you having trouble with him?” Triana said.
Gap shook his head. “No, he’s a good worker. He just has…I don’t know, an attitude about him, like he’s superior to everyone working around him.”
“Well,” Triana said, “he has the right to be heard, whether we agree with his opinions or not, or whether we like his attitude or not. Any other comments before I bring him in?”
There was silence in the Conference Room as the other Council members looked around at each other. Triana nodded.
“Gap, would you mind? He should be waiting right outside.” Gap hesitated a moment before he stood and walked to the door. When it opened, Merit walked in, a half-smile etched on his face. He held a small file folder in one hand. Tromping in behind him were two
of the boys who had accompanied him in the Dining Hall. Triana had thought of them as an entourage at that time, and now that feeling was intensified. They paraded behind him almost like a king’s subjects. Without waiting for him to speak, Triana decided to take a position of strength.
“Merit, you are welcome to address the Council. If your friends are here to add their own comments, they, too, are welcome. Otherwise, I will ask them to wait outside.”
She watched as the half-smile on his face flickered, disappeared, then returned. Her comment had achieved its goal. There was no way Merit would allow any of his followers to speak. Their role was to simply provide support and, to some extent, intimidation. It was obvious, however, that he hadn’t counted on Triana taking the offensive. He turned to the two boys.
“I’ll see you guys later.”
When the door had closed again, Triana laced her fingers together on the table and fixed Merit with a cool stare. “You have the floor.”
With what appeared to Triana to be a rehearsed move, Merit walked to the end of the table with his hands clasped behind his back, a thoughtful look on his face. When he reached the end opposite Triana, he set down the folder and made eye contact with each Council member before addressing the group.
“I would like to go on record as saying that the Council of Galahad has done an admirable job in leading this mission, so far. There have been some rough spots along the way, and I’m sure I speak for the rest of the crew when I offer my thanks for your service and dedication.”
Gap exchanged a look with Triana that said “Oh, brother.”
“When each of us volunteered for this project,” Merit continued, “we were told that it was the best chance available to save humankind. Bhaktul’s Disease was ravaging the planet, and it seemed that there was no alternative but to send a couple hundred kids off to a new world.