The Galahad Legacy

by Dom Testa

  “How you feel about me isn’t important,” Merit said. “But you’d better think twice if push comes to shove on this ship.”

  She stopped and looked back at him. “Oh, really?”

  His eyes narrowed and he pushed aside another lock of hair. “I don’t care if you stay on the sidelines from now on. Just don’t think about taking sides against me. It wouldn’t be in your … uh, best interests.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means Gap didn’t buy your indignant act back there on the lower level. As far as he’s concerned we were a couple. And guess what? It’s only your word against mine. And I think you know how persuasive my word can be around here.”

  Hannah stood silently for a moment, and her eyes blazed. “No one would believe that for a second.”

  “Oh no?” Merit said. “Gap already believes it. I’ll bet it would take all of ten seconds to get Channy to buy in; she wants to believe every potential relationship on this ship is true. Plus, there’s always my little circle of friends. They’re pretty good at getting the word out, too.”

  She felt her hands close into fists. “Why? Why would you even want to spread that kind of garbage?”

  Merit looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Oh, and I could dress it up even more than you realize. Our relationship could turn out to be quite passionate. And, oh my, how scandalous that it started while you and Gap were still together. Look, you even came to visit me today. I imagine that at least one or two people saw you come in here, right?”

  Hannah fumed, and Merit continued to scan the ceiling. He lowered his voice.

  “I don’t need to say any of that, of course. You just need to remember what I told you. Don’t take sides, and, if I need a favor now and then, well, that wouldn’t hurt you. Just stay in the shadows and let things play out without you.” He turned back to face her, and leveled a menacing look. “You stay quiet, and I stay quiet. That’s easy enough, right?”

  Without a word Hannah spun around and stormed out of the ward. Merit shifted in his bed, wincing again at the pain, but smiling nonetheless.

  * * *

  “How can there be jellyfish in space?” Channy asked.

  “Well, they’re not floating free in space,” Gap said. “Look at the specimen down the hall. It’s in an aquarium, or at least what looks like one.” He turned to Triana. “I’m guessing, though, that it’s not water in that tank.”

  Triana slowly shook her head. “No. Lita and Roc could probably tell you more about it. But it’s the same stuff inside the amoebas. It’s their natural habitat.”

  Attention turned to Lita, who keyed in a few strokes and brought up a couple of side-by-side images on the room’s vidscreens.

  “Unlike the vultures,” she said, “which are essentially cyborgs—part artificial, part organic tissue—the jellyfish in Sick House is definitely a complete life-form. Or at least closer to life as we know it. It’s gonna take a lot more study before we can say anything else for sure.

  “And I suppose we shouldn’t be all that surprised to find a life-form in the galaxy with this biology. The jellies are among the most populous, and most successful, creatures on Earth. They’re in every ocean, at practically every depth, and they’re found in freshwater, too.”

  She tapped the other image on the screen. “But the fluid in this container is not water. In fact, I spent about an hour last night trying to determine exactly what it is. Roc, would you like to jump in here?”

  “Let me put it this way,” the computer said. “I wouldn’t want to swim in it. Or take a bath. Ugh. It’s freaky stuff.”

  Lita sighed. “Maybe I should’ve been the one to explain it.”

  “Just a little disclaimer, that’s all,” Roc said. “What it boils down to—although it would be tough to boil this stuff—is that what we’re looking at is an alien form of what’s known as a supercritical fluid.”

  “Which means?” Channy asked.

  For the first time since the meeting began, Bon spoke. “Fascinating,” he murmured from the far end of the table.

  Triana raised her eyebrows. “Oh? You’re familiar with this?”

  Bon kept his eyes on the screen. “My father tried to do some work with supercritical fluids in some of his hydroponic experiments with crops.”

  “Hydroponics?” Gap said. “Isn’t that where you grow plants in water, rather than soil?”

  “Something like that, only more complicated,” Bon said. “In this case, my dad studied the supercritical fluids they found on some of the moons in the solar system, and thought they would provide a better growth medium.” He looked up to see the rest of the Council staring at him. “Well … that’s not important now.” With that he fell silent again.

  “It makes sense,” Roc said. “Some scientists believe that supercritical fluids are a vast reservoir of untapped energy sources.”

  “Would someone please tell me what they are?” Channy asked.

  The image on the vidscreens shimmered and changed, bringing up a photo of something that resembled a stalagmite, but was clearly underwater.

  “This is a hydrothermal vent at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean,” Roc said. “Superheated water that’s escaping from a crack in Earth’s crust. In your basic science classes you probably learned that these areas generally support a large, and usually very diverse, group of life-forms. Even at extreme depths in the ocean, far from any sunlight, and where the pressure is enough to crack even Gap’s thick skull like a walnut, life flourishes. In fact, some believe that life on Earth might have begun around one of these vents.”

  Channy leaned forward and studied the image. “But what does this have to do with the stuff in the aquarium?”

  “It was around these deepwater vents that scientists first observed what we now call supercritical fluids,” Roc said. “In a nutshell, you’re probably used to the standard states of matter: solid, liquid, and gas. Throw in plasma and you get a fourth that’s generally recognized. But there are many more, some of which are only theory. Supercritical fluids are now considered another state of matter. Think of it as a stepping stone between liquid and gas.”

  Gap spoke up. “I studied this at Galahad training. The supercritical fluids on some of the moons were found deep under the crust, where the pressure and temperature were extremely high. Some thought we’d eventually harness these fluids for energy use.”

  “That’s right,” Roc said. “These fluids sparked a lot of interest as possible energy sources, and for things like drug therapy and food production. I’m not surprised that Bon’s father dabbled with it. And I’m certainly not surprised to find it orbiting a red dwarf star. What I didn’t expect, however, was to find a life-form skinny-dipping in it.”

  “Why, exactly?” Triana asked.

  “Because it generally requires very high temperatures and extremely high pressure. Not your usual comfy nest for life.”

  The vidscreen display shifted back to the jellyfish images. Each of the Council members studied them, and the room remained quiet for almost a minute. It was Lita who finally broke the spell with a chuckle.

  “By now you’d think that nothing would surprise us,” she said. “Okay, so another new alien life-form is not only surviving, but thriving, in an environment that would be deadly for us. Well, why not? It’s just another reminder that our little planet is only one tiny, insignificant speck in the universe.”

  Triana looked thoughtful. “If anything, it reinforces how arrogant our species can be. We think that because we evolved one way, every other way of doing it is strange. We might find out someday that we’re the most strange of all.”

  “Trust me, you are,” Roc said. Then he added: “To sum up: the jellyfish creature is living tissue, is giving off heat, and lives in a supercritical fluid that isn’t under crushing pressure or temperature. I’ll be up late tonight studying, if anyone wants to make the coffee.”

  “Let’s get back to your story,” Gap said, turning to Triana. “S
o you woke up in the vicinity of a red dwarf star, surrounded by millions of vultures, and a handful of these amoeba-like globs. The globs had things in them, including jellyfish. What happened next?”

  “After I realized that the amoebas might contain intelligent life, I tried to communicate with them. I started by simply flashing the pod’s exterior lights. Then I tried various radio signals, everything from old-time Morse code to strings of mathematics.” She laughed. “At one point I even keyed the microphone and just began talking to them. I don’t even remember what I said. By then I was probably just trying to work off nervous energy. For all I know I might have come across to them as some jabbering fool.”

  “Did anything get a reaction?” Lita asked.

  Triana shook her head. “Nothing. I didn’t notice a single change in their movement or behavior. And, really, why would they react? I’m sitting there, flashing my lights at them and sending out meaningless radio signals. They were probably patiently waiting for me to do something that made sense to them.

  “And then I quit. I was exhausted. I worried about falling asleep in the middle of all the vultures, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. So, I set an alarm for one hour, leaned back in my chair, and went to sleep. I figured that would be better than nothing.”

  Channy shuddered. “I would’ve been creeped out.”

  “You would have really been creeped out by what I saw when I woke up,” Triana said. “Something pulled me out of my sleep about five minutes before the alarm was scheduled to go off. It seemed as if the stars had disappeared. But no.”

  Lita sat up straight. “Don’t tell me; the vultures.”

  Triana nodded. “A bunch of them. They were stuck across the pod’s front window, covering almost all of it. There were small holes here and there that I could peek through, but otherwise I was engulfed by them. And it was—to use Channy’s word—creepy.

  “But they didn’t stay in one place. Remember when they latched on to Galahad? They stayed in the same spots. But the ones on the pod moved every few minutes; I wouldn’t call it scooting, more like gliding. Pretty soon they weren’t covering the window anymore.”

  “Do you think they were cataloging the pod?” Gap asked. “Making a record of it?”

  “That’s exactly what they were doing,” Triana said.

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Because before I returned to Galahad, I saw that they’d made an exact replica of the pod.”

  “An exact…” Lita didn’t finish the sentence. She looked around at the other Council members, then back to Triana. “This is getting weirder by the minute.”

  Triana raised her eyebrows. “Oh, Lita, you haven’t even heard the weird parts yet.”

  4

  The sound of an alarm had become much too common in Galahad’s Engineering section, and yet it still sent chills through the dozen crew members on duty during midday. Bryson Eberle glared at the control panel. He was less than ten minutes away from his scheduled lunch break, and an alarm—justified or false—didn’t fit into his plans. Besides, after staying up late to celebrate his seventeenth birthday with his closest friends, he was hoping for a quick, uneventful day.

  He tapped a quick command into the system, and called on the ship’s computer. “Roc, it’s not the radiation shield this time. At least, I don’t think so.” A quick scan of the panel only caused Bryson to squint in confusion.

  “It’s not the shield,” Roc said. “It’s a security warning.”

  Bryson took a step back and again looked up at the panel. “What kind of security warning?”

  “The kind where revolting creatures which have been casually circling our poor little spacecraft decide to take a rest and hitch a ride. If you need me to decipher that description for you, I’ll boil it down to four words: The vultures have landed.”

  “How many?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Roc said.

  * * *

  Lita stood with her hands on her hips, her head tilted back, staring up at the clear panels stitched across the domes covering Galahad’s Farms. Activity in the ship’s bustling Agricultural Center came to a screeching halt, and the dozens of workers assigned to the fields mimicked Lita’s stance, gazing upward. They shielded their eyes against the artificial sunlight radiating from the crisscrossing grids above, straining to see the dark triangles which suddenly dotted their sky.

  It had taken only one shout from a perceptive farmworker to direct everyone’s attention skyward. Lita had barely stepped off the lift, on her way to Bon’s office, when the cry rang out. Now she felt a shudder pass through her body, the reaction that accompanied any direct view of the vultures.

  During the first encounter with the cyborg scouts, it was unsettling enough when a solitary specimen had attached itself to Galahad’s domes. This time there were hundreds, if not more, spattered across the dome. Their menacing dark figures blotted out the starlight, a condition made even more chilling by their stillness, a stillness which contradicted the blazing speed with which they moved through space. To Lita it seemed taunting.

  She realized that she’d been holding her breath as she gaped at the vultures. Regardless of their true function—and their intentions—Lita could not shake the feeling that they were killers.

  Slowly, she made her way toward Bon’s office, now with the virtual weight of hundreds of alien soldiers pressing down upon her.

  * * *

  Triana silenced the warning tone in the Control Room and, with a strange coolness, encouraged everyone to remain calm. She threw a glance across the room to Gap, sitting at his Engineering station. His face had a distinct “what now?” look about it.

  “I have a pretty good idea what this is all about,” Triana said. “Roc, let me guess: we have vultures clinging to the ship again.”

  “Clinging?” the computer said. “More like coating. Practically all of them have glommed onto us. In case you forgot, that means thousands of them.”

  Gap looked at the large vidscreen. “I wish they’d stayed on their side of the wormhole and left us alone.”

  Triana chewed on the information for a moment. “Honestly,” she said, “I don’t think we need to worry about them on the ship. They’ll scour the outside, and when they’re satisfied with what they’ve learned, they’ll take off. Probably back home.”

  Gap studied her face for a moment. “Satisfied with what they learn. They’re cataloging us now, aren’t they?”

  “I think so, yes.” She shrugged. “It’s what they do.”

  In the two hours since the Council meeting had broken up, she’d pondered exactly how to explain the vultures, and their exotic creators, when the time came to address the crew. The full meeting was scheduled for late that afternoon, which gave her time to attend to many of her duties, as well as some time to catch up on rest. The latter had been strictly prescribed by Lita as a condition of her release from Sick House.

  But it would be much more difficult, she realized, to convince a jittery crew that there was no danger with the swarm plastered to the ship. She agreed with Gap: things would’ve been easier if they’d just remained on their side of the divide.

  * * *

  Lita tapped on Bon’s office door. He looked up from his desk long enough to take note of her presence, then turned his attention back to the pile of forms on the desk. He gave no greeting.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Lita walked in and leaned against the back of a chair. She studied him quietly, taking note of his mussed hair and the thin line of perspiration that ringed his forehead. She immediately assumed that he’d connected with the Cassini before realizing that the translator lay stashed in a drawer in her room. He must have just returned from the fields.

  “I’m gonna grab a late lunch,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “Wanna join?”

  Bon shook his head. “Too much to do right now.”

  “You need to eat.”

  “I’ll eat when I’m hungry, and when I have a moment to spar
e.”

  Lita rocked back and forth for a few seconds. “Thought you might also like to talk about things.”

  A sarcastic smile crept across his face. “No, you want to talk about things. So go ahead; say what you’d like to say. If it looks like I’m not paying attention, it’s because I’m not.”

  “Of course,” Lita said. “The stoic, ever-serious Bon Hartsfield, who detests conversation because real emotions might accidentally leak out and ruin his reputation. Okay, I’ll talk, and you respond when you feel backed into a corner.”

  She walked around the chair and sat down, her legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles. “I know that you’re happy to see Triana back, safe and sound.”

  Bon didn’t react, and went on with his work.

  “You probably haven’t noticed yet, but the ship seems to be covered in vultures. When the lights in the domes shut down tonight, you probably won’t see any stars, just black triangles with a soft, blue glow.”

  Bon tapped in a couple of strokes on his keyboard, studied his vidscreen, and tapped some more.

  Lita continued: “I’m curious about the meeting coming up this afternoon, aren’t you? I’m dying to find out more about Triana’s journey through the wormhole. I’m especially curious about the plans of the jellyfish now that we’ve made official contact.”

  When there was no response, Lita asked: “Are you curious?”

  With a sigh, Bon tossed his stylus pen onto the desk and fixed her with a stare. “No, I’m not really curious. I think it’s dangerous.”

  “What part?”

  “All of it,” he said. “And this worshipful attitude from everyone toward Triana makes no sense. People are celebrating that she’s back, but ignoring the fact that she brought aboard this ship one of the creatures responsible for killing Alexa.”

  Lita looked back and forth between his eyes. “There are a lot of questions about Alexa’s death,” she said. “We don’t know if there was ever an intent to kill. In fact, I think it’s the last thing they meant to do.”