by Dom Testa
Yet another rumble spread across the room, as crew members looked at their neighbors and attempted to decipher the meaning behind the statement. Bon remained passive on the stage, apparently content to let them discuss the possibility. When they again fell silent and directed their attention at Bon, he resumed.
“We are a flawed species. It’s impossible for us to imagine a life form—if that’s even what we can call the Cassini—that has evolved to the point of near-perfection. As the universe has expanded outward, they have progressed with it. I get the impression that they now exist…well, everywhere. They might actually be one immense life form, with segments scattered across the universe.
“One could ask, after so much time and evolution, what is left for them to accomplish? My best guess is that they now reside in star systems like ours, as a kind of guardian for the life forms there. They create various barriers around the systems, and monitor movement. That means monitoring movement both into and out of the system.”
Bon paused and licked his lips. This was the most he had spoken at one time since boarding Galahad, and to Triana he seemed to be reaching his maximum tolerance level. She decided to assist him.
“What that means,” she said, stepping up beside the Swede, “is that when we imagined the Kuiper Belt to be a harmless, natural phenomenon of our solar system, we couldn’t grasp the idea that it was an intentional ring of debris and chaos, created to pick off anything attempting to enter or leave. It might seem, on the surface, to be a rather primitive defense system, but consider this: We have an incredibly sophisticated warning system and navigational tools at our disposal, and we have barely slipped through the first third of the Belt.”
Bon picked up on this thought. “The Cassini, as I see it, have witnessed a mind-boggling number of civilizations in the universe come and go throughout their billions of years. They obviously are superb judges of what is best for each of those civilizations. Because of our violent history, it’s no wonder that we’ve never received visitors from another world. The Cassini have chosen to keep us isolated.
“And now, we have the opportunity to leave the nest, to experience life in another part of the galaxy. The Cassini must evaluate us and make an important decision.”
He looked out at the crew of Galahad. “They are deciding if we’re worthy of survival.”
30
Triana allowed the crew to chatter for a few moments. Bon’s theory of the Cassini as galactic policemen had stunned them at first; his suggestion that they might also operate like a judge and jury, determining which species survived and which were either isolated or terminated, created mild panic. Triana had predicted this response. She noticed that, amidst the commotion, Merit sat still and spoke to no one. She could imagine that his mind was working on this new information, preparing a pitch that would use it to his advantage.
After two minutes, Triana asked for quiet. Although scattered pockets of conversation continued around the room, she spoke over them.
“I’m sure you have questions. We will try to answer them as best we can.”
A boy in the middle of the room stood up. “You say the Cassini are trying to decide if we’re worthy of survival,” he said. “Yet they gave Bon some sort of key to navigate out of the Kuiper Belt. Doesn’t that mean they have given us a green light?”
Triana looked at Bon. He seemed increasingly uncomfortable on the stage, but he answered the question.
“It’s not a one-time course correction. The fact that I connected with them again bought us some time, but we’ll need multiple adjustments in our course over the next few weeks. During that time I get the distinct feeling that we’ll be…observed. Don’t ask me how. If we fail to live up to their standards—whatever those might be—my guess is that we’ll be left on our own. Which means almost certain destruction.”
Another question came from the third row. “Are the Cassini fixing things back on Earth?”
This time Bon needed no prompting. He said, “They are obviously very powerful, but they are not gods. They don’t wave a wand and clean up a planet’s atmosphere. The term I used was policemen. They are able to keep track of what comes into and what leaves the solar system, but I do not see them stepping in to save our planet. There is a cycle of life in the universe; some civilizations survive, some do not. Their job is merely to insure that one does not negatively impact another.”
Triana jumped into the discussion. “Remember, they have reached a level of evolution that we can’t begin to comprehend. Simply by trying to study our little human machines, they essentially squashed the research station at Titan, and almost ‘helped’ our ship to destruction. Fixing little problems is not their focus.”
A third question was raised. “How do you know all of this for sure?”
“They don’t!” came a shout from the back of the room. Heads turned, and crew members strained to see who had called out. But Triana knew immediately who it was.
Merit was on his feet. “Of course they don’t know any of this for sure,” he said, this time in his natural speaking voice. He took a few steps out of the row and stood in the aisle. Triana knew that it was to afford a better view of himself to the assembled group, and to allow him to move while he spoke, which was his style.
“Am I allowed to speak?” Merit said, looking up at Triana. “Or, is this meeting similar to one of your Council meetings, where we must beg an audience with you?”
Triana felt a surge of anger. She opened her mouth to speak, then happened to catch sight of Gap. He mouthed something to her, then repeated the gesture to make sure she understood what he was saying. “Let him talk.”
Puzzled, she looked at Merit, then back at Gap. He nodded once to her, then turned his attention to the back of the room like everyone else.
This was a surprising turn. Of all the people on the ship, Gap would be the one who would want to stifle Merit. Why would he want the crew to hear Merit’s message? Her instinct told her to play along, as dangerous as it might be.
“You are free to speak,” she said, “as long as this becomes a dialogue and not a speech.”
Merit smiled and began a leisurely walk to the front of the room. His pace was measured, and looked to Triana to be almost rehearsed for effect. After a few steps he stopped and spread his arms wide and spoke in a commanding voice.
“I want to thank all of you, my friends, for your presence today, because it forces the all-powerful Council of Galahad to listen to ordinary crew members, like me. Believe me, if you were not here as witnesses, none of our voices might be heard. We’re making progress.”
His smile widened and he took a few more steps down the aisle before again stopping and addressing the crowd.
“How very convenient that only one person on this ship is able to communicate with the Cassini, and that person happens to be on the Council. I’m reminded of the ancient civilizations that followed their high priest, the only person deemed capable of talking with the gods. Of course, no one dared question the high priest, for fear that the gods would smite them if they disobeyed.”
Triana felt her temper flare again. Gap glanced up at her, this time gesturing with his hands to calm down. He turned back toward Merit.
“In the past week or so,” Merit continued, “more and more of you have considered our dilemma, as well as our possible choices. You have made it clear that you would prefer to abort this dangerous journey and return to Earth. And I can see from the many armbands on display today that those numbers increase daily.”
He took a few more steps toward the stage, putting his hands behind his back and lowering his gaze to the floor. The pose, Triana was sure, was calculated to give an appearance of deep concern and heavy responsibility.
“But now,” he said, “we are told that, according to a Council member, the Cassini can not help anyone on Earth.” He paused and looked up, arching his eyebrows. “Does anyone in here remember the amazing power that we witnessed back at Saturn? Is there one among you who believes tha
t the Cassini are powerless security guards?”
There was a small hum of discussion throughout the room. Triana saw several clots of crew members nodding their heads in agreement.
Merit took another step, then spun and faced the stage. His voice grew stronger. “Should we ask our fearless leader, Triana, why we should believe her? Should we ask her why we should once again place our lives in danger, zigzagging through a deadly minefield billions of miles from home?”
Triana forced a smile onto her face. “Thank you, Merit, for taking a breath, and allowing me to respond to your campaign speech.” There was a smatter of chuckles, but many in the room looked up at her with distrust.
“There were multiple witnesses to Bon’s first connection with the Cassini,” she said.
“The results of his first contact speak for themselves, and we owe our lives to that bond.”
“We are discussing his latest chat,” Merit said. “Would you mind telling the crew who witnessed that little talk?”
Triana realized that she had walked into a trap. She knew that her hesitation in answering had already damaged her. Her only recourse was the truth.
“This latest connection was in the Farms, witnessed by me and by Lita.”
“Of course,” Merit said. “You and yet another Council member.”
“I was not aware,” Triana responded, with more acid in her voice than she had intended, “that during a time of crisis we needed to gather representatives from groups that have a grudge with the Council.” She took a breath to calm herself. “Until a majority of the crew elects to change the Council membership, we will continue to act in the best interests of everyone aboard this ship.”
“Of course, of course,” Merit said, again pacing toward the stage. “We’re all aware that we have no choice—today, at least—but to have total and complete faith in the high priestess of our colony.”
Triana made eye contact with Gap again. He seemed to read her mind, knowing that she wanted to verbally spar with Merit. He shook his head slowly. Triana was perplexed by his actions, and grew increasingly nervous that he was encouraging her to accept this assault. She bit her lip and remained quiet.
Merit had reached the steps, and now methodically climbed up to the stage. He stood ten feet to Triana’s right, then pivoted to face the crowd.
“Why don’t we try some easier questions?” he said. “Besides the obvious threat outside the ship, have we forgotten about the problems within? One of our friends lies in a hospital bed, and has just today awakened from a coma. A coma!”
Triana was startled that Merit already had the news of Alexa’s recovery. It was another brilliant tactic on his part: take some of the only good news that Triana might deliver, and deliver it himself—keeping the attention on him—while spinning the news to paint a dire picture. One card that she had hoped to play, and he had already trumped it.
“We need heat to survive,” Merit said, “and until recently we had no idea why the temperatures were falling on the crucial sixth level.”
On the front row, Gap cracked a faint smile. Triana stared at him, but he kept his eyes on Merit, seeming to enjoy every minute.
“But forget about freezing to death,” Merit said, again spreading his arms in a dramatic gesture. “That would be a slow, excruciating death. We would at least know what was happening, unlike the biggest danger we face: being instantly disintegrated by a giant boulder smashing into us with no warning.”
Gap’s smile grew more distinct.
Merit said, “I wonder how many of you have any idea what happened earlier today. I’m sure you heard the warning sirens, but you might not have had time to learn what that was all about.”
Heads turned in the auditorium, and there were more whispered exchanges. Merit took two steps toward Triana and gave her a look that she swore resembled a predator’s face closing in on the kill.
“Let me tell you what that alarm signified,” he shouted over the buzz in the room. “We have one tiny weapon in our battle against the Kuiper Belt’s treachery. A sophisticated warning alert system that tells our ship if we’re about to get obliterated by a massive rock. Well, that warning system went down today for a few minutes. All of us were completely vulnerable. It’s practically a miracle that it came back online before we were hit.”
The room exploded in sound. Several crew members were on their feet, pointing at Triana and yelling. Even the crew members who had remained loyal to her and the Council appeared shaken. In the front row, Lita and Channy seemed stunned at the hostility directed toward the ship’s Council leader.
Beside them, Gap was laughing.
A lightning bolt of fear raced through Triana. Suddenly it dawned on her: Gap’s behavior, his angry confrontation with her in the hall, his absence from duty…
He had rebelled, and obviously joined the opposition. True, he had seemed to be no fan of Merit Simms…but how else to account for what had just happened. He had stifled her attempts to debate with Merit, placing her in an almost defenseless position now. She had no idea how the Council would survive this catastrophe.
She stared down from the stage, oblivious for the moment to the shouting and screams coming from the crew. She felt the rage of betrayal as she watched him laugh. And within that rage she felt a burning sense of pain. Although they had never connected in the manner she knew he had desired, Triana never doubted that Gap cared for her. To think that he would destroy her like this was agonizing.
Her lip trembled and she clenched her fists. Merit assumed a passive stance on the stage, obviously aware that his mission had finally been accomplished and that no further words were necessary at this point.
The uproar in the auditorium began to settle. Unsure of what to do or say, Triana glanced at Bon who seemed to be as startled as she. Lita and Channy were doing their part, apparently engaged in heated discussions with several crew members in the row behind them. Something needed to be done.
Just as Triana opened her mouth to speak, she spied Gap standing and raising his hands. He was yelling.
“Excuse me! May I say something, please? Hello? Can I please say something?”
What was this, Triana wondered. The final dagger in the heart? “Excuse me,” Gap yelled again. The room began to grow quiet. Gap moved to the steps and joined Triana, Bon, and Merit on the stage. Triana couldn’t help but notice the look of curiosity on Merit’s face. He apparently was as clueless as she about Gap’s motives.
“If I could have just one moment of your time,” Gap said, and the room’s noise level dropped enough for him to be heard. “Thank you,” he said. “I want to say a few things about what Merit has told you today. He could not be more right about the warning system. It is, indeed, our last layer of defense out here.”
Gap looked at Triana, the slight remains of the smile lingering on the corners of his mouth. She couldn’t decide what his look meant, but it almost appeared…vindictive.
“And Merit is right that it failed today. It was down for about ten minutes. That means ten minutes where we could have been blown right out of space.”
He walked over and stood next to Merit, who shifted his gaze out over the crew, much like a king surveying his subjects. He nodded to indicate that Gap was speaking the truth.
“But that’s not all,” Gap said. “You don’t know the whole story yet.”
Triana’s chin dropped to her chest and she closed her eyes. Inside, she felt her heart break.
31
There was no sensation of time. Triana stood quietly, her head down, but her mind was whirling. Besides the crushing weight of despair, she couldn’t help but question everything. How could this have happened? How could she have better handled the crisis with Merit? Was there some way she could have steered the ship through the Kuiper Belt without the near-collisions, the drama, the fear?
Could she have managed the Council better? Could she have taken more of a leadership role in the eyes of the crew as they wound their way through the minefield? Was
there some way she could have prevented the near-catastrophe with Alexa?
All of these thoughts tumbled across her mind, sending her down a tunnel of doubt and insecurity. Yet, when she came out the other side, she found, to her surprise, that her confidence and dignity took over. She raised her head again and looked out toward the crew.
“No,” she told herself. “I have not mishandled this in any way. My father taught me well, Dr. Zimmer taught me well, and if I had to do it all over again, I would not change one thing. I have the courage to stand here now, to face my peers, and to know that I have done the best that I could.”
She steeled herself for whatever Gap was going to say. She crossed her arms and held her chin high.
“I should have realized this from the start,” Gap said to the audience. “When the problems with the heating system on Level Six came and went, it was odd to me, but I thought it was a defective part that had been built into the ship.
“I just spent some time in Engineering looking at the culprit.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small metal block, slightly grayish in color. It fit into the palm of his hand. “This is called a Balsom clip. I don’t expect you to know anything about it, so I won’t bore you with too many details. But it’s a sensor that regulates the temperature on the ship. Each level has a series of them. They work in connection with each other. It’s so complicated, I didn’t even really know how they played off one another until recently. But when one breaks down, it might not create a problem until farther down the series.”
Triana was confused. Where was he going with this? Roc had told her that the problem definitely came from a faulty clip, but what did that have to do with this meeting?
Gap continued. “This little bugger right here was the problem. Funny, isn’t it, that something this small could cause so much trouble?” He held it up to the crowd and slowly swiveled it, letting them get a better look.