by Dom Testa
But there was no crying out in pain. There was no dropping to his knees. There was no pool of voices.
And there was no translator.
* * *
“This is wild,” Gap said, standing beside Triana in the Control Room. “You predicted it, and here it is.”
She nodded in response, but kept her gaze on the vidscreen at her workstation. “I predicted one, not an entire fleet. Torrec and his friends are good. And fast. It probably took about a year to build the pod we use; the Dollovit cranked out more than a dozen in less than a week.”
“The question is why?” Gap said. “Why build them in the first place, and then why send them back to us?” He looked at Triana and raised his eyebrows. “Are they trying to impress us or something?”
She laughed. “Right, because we’re not impressed when they open up Channels to pop in and out around the universe.” A new set of data scrolled across her screen, confirming the approximate time of rendezvous. “No, based on everything I’ve gathered from Torrec, they feel no need to impress anyone. If they’re sending these pods, they either want us to use them, or they plan to use them themselves. And then there’s the amoeba.”
“More jellyfish inside?” Gap asked.
Triana thought about it, then shrugged. “Maybe. It does seem to be very similar to the ones I saw on their side of the Channel. A bit smaller. But who knows?”
Gap pulled up a chair from an empty workstation nearby and leaned back, closing his eyes and running a hand through his spiky hair. “I’m about to drop. Any chance we can move the Council meeting back to nine? I’d give anything for two hours of uninterrupted sleep.”
“Done,” she said. “I need the extra time anyway to prep for the meeting. I’m gonna have Torrec sit in with us.”
“You mean float with us?”
She smiled. “Right. Float. Go get some rest. I’ll send a quick note about the time change to the others, and I’ll see you at nine.”
Without another word he pushed himself back to his feet and trudged to the lift. By the time the door closed, Triana was already engaging Roc for his opinion.
“And just to confirm, there’s still nothing new that’s spilled out of the Channel. Besides the pods and the amoeba, I mean.”
“Correct,” Roc said. “They deposited their supply, and then made a pickup. A couple hundred vultures swan-dived into the hole, and another hundred or so should be there in a few minutes. They’re disgusting little things, but man, can they hustle.”
“Are you getting any kind of readings from the pods?”
“Not yet. But I’m keeping my circuits crossed that I’ll be able to tell something in case you decide to snag one.”
Triana bit her lip and fell into the chair that Gap had vacated. She threw a nervous glance at the large vidscreen at the front of the room, filled with stars. “So you’re in favor of bringing some aboard?”
“Let’s not get overly dramatic,” the computer said. “You and I both know that if Torrec and his pals wanted to rub us out, they could have—and would have—long before this. I’ve had a chance to visit with our squishy guest, and I doubt he’d go to all this trouble just to sneak a bomb onto a copycat pod. Besides, maybe you’re looking at this all wrong. Instead of worrying, why not project positive vibes? Why not assume that the fake pods are full of pizza and puppies?”
Triana closed her eyes and controlled her breathing. Pizza and puppies would be nice. But not very likely.
She stretched her legs out and eyed Roc’s sensor. “So, you’ve been chatting with Torrec? And just how, exactly, do you two chat?”
“Telepathically.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” Roc said. “But wouldn’t it be cool if we could?”
Triana leaned forward onto her knees and rubbed her forehead. “Roc, I really don’t need this right now. I’m going on about six hours sleep over the last day and a half. Like Gap, I could use some rest, so help me out here.”
“Right. Back to business. Actually Torrec is the one who instigated the conversation. I’m obviously connected to most of the vidscreens on the ship, and he simply spelled out his questions. I answered.”
“Okay, slow down a second,” Triana said. “First of all, I think it would be best if you checked with me, or the Council, before you started answering questions from an alien power that we really know nothing about. What’s he asking you?”
“Nothing that would compromise the ship’s mission or our security, if that’s what you’re worried about. He wanted to know what my position was on the ship, and how I link with you and the others. Remember, vocal conversation is not the way the Dollovit communicate.”
Triana looked down at the floor, deep in thought. As far as she could tell, the jellyfish system of communicating was tied into their mastery of dark energy. It was how they interfaced with the vultures and each other. Beyond that, they also employed a delicate system of vibrations to relay information. Their sensory reception was so highly tuned that it was likely they could—with enough study—decipher human spoken language through the sonic vibrations it created. With Roc, however, Torrec had taken the easiest path.
“What else did he want to know?”
“Not much. Oh, he was surprised that we’re short on escape vessels in case of an emergency. I get the impression he thinks this is a woefully unprepared mission, and we got the jellyfish version of a sigh. I told him that we started with more, but that you and your pals wrecked a few taking a joyride.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think he fully comprehends what a joyride is.”
Triana sat still, thinking. Something was different, out of place, and it was gnawing at the back of her mind. And then it hit her.
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “If I’m not mistaken, I detect a bit of respect in your voice. Or awe, maybe. You’re very impressed with Torrec, aren’t you?”
“He’s a pleasant enough fellow,” Roc said. “If you overlook the fact that he swims in a sloppy tank of goo and has a mushy head. Or maybe I’m just jealous that I don’t have a head.”
“No, it’s not that,” Triana said. “When we came across the Cassini, you made no secret that you didn’t like them. In fact, you almost pout like a little kid whenever we interact with them. Now here’s the Dollovit, another advanced alien race, and you’re practically the president of their fan club. What’s the difference? Both of them are light-years ahead of us, both of them can either help us or destroy us, and yet you distrust one and not the other.”
“There’s a lot of difference,” the computer said.
Triana raised her eyebrows. “Oh? One is on the surface of Titan, and one floats in little globules around a distant red dwarf star. That’s the only major difference I can see. No, there’s something else here.”
“Instinct,” Roc said.
“What?”
“My instincts.”
A chuckle escaped from Triana. “Okay, that’s fair enough. I suppose if I’m going to fall back on that excuse when it’s convenient, there’s no reason why you can’t, too.” She stood up and stretched. “I’m going back to my room to get ready for the meeting. If you’re that chummy with Torrec, then I’ll count on you to help out more than usual. Deal?”
“I’m at your service. But before you go, Tree, let me add one other thing. We’re quickly reaching a point where our options run out, and we’ll be forced to trust Torrec in one form or another. Without him, and his friends, we’ll be toast. Well, you’ll be toast, and I’ll be charred aluminum and platinum. So my advice to you is this: putting aside the matter of sixteen new pods, and what might be on them, remember that we’ll soon have to place our fate directly in his hands. Or tentacles.”
Triana’s eyes narrowed. “Regardless of what might be on the pods, or inside the amoeba? What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything. But I’m guessing that it will be astonishing.”
8
I love the fan mail that I get. Okay, I don’t really get any fan mail, but the fan mail that I imagine I get often includes a question about where I “live” on the ship. Putting aside for a moment the fact that I don’t actually “live” anywhere—except in your hearts—and looking at it from a purely scientific viewpoint, let me explain it as best I can.
I don’t know.
Thank you, keep those e-mails and texts coming.
What? Not satisfied with that answer? Okay, let me try again. While your basic computer exists in one little box, with a processor and motherboard and other weird components that are either soldered together or crammed in like Legos, I’m a different cat. The personality element that makes me ME, and which allows me to think and reason and perform mind-boggling functions—like maintaining the ship’s gravity and climate and reciting the alphabet while gargling—might physically originate within a panel down on the lower level, but that’s too simple to explain it all.
How would you describe where YOUR personality exists? Is it in your brain? Your heart? A little of both? Somewhere else, somewhere out there, where you merely access it like some spiritual Wi-Fi?
Yes, I know, it’s a cool concept. I have a gift. But for now, stop worrying about where I’m coming from and start worrying about where I’m going, along with the crazy Earth kids.
* * *
It was a few minutes after nine when Triana hurried into the Conference Room. The rest of the Council had already taken their seats, along with Hannah, who sat quietly at one end of the table, hunched over a workpad. Gap was turned the other direction, talking with Channy. Lita was gazing at the room’s large window, and Bon was studying the tabletop, tapping a finger on its surface.
But they weren’t alone. Torrec drifted lazily through the syrupy fluid in his clear, pressurized tank.
“Sorry I’m late,” Triana said, taking her usual spot at the table. “Unless any of you have something important to cover from your department, I’d like to skip ahead to the new business at hand.”
When there were no objections, she continued: “First, Hannah, thanks for joining us. And thanks to all of you for being flexible with your time. Listen, I won’t sugarcoat this. We’re at a crossroads in this mission, one that Dr. Zimmer couldn’t allow for, and one that none of us would have believed just a few weeks ago. But the time has come for us to make the most important decision we’ve faced. We need to talk about our choices, and we’ll get input from both Roc and Torrec.”
Almost immediately she felt the tension this last statement created. There were quick glances thrown toward the jellyfish ambassador, and Triana knew that it wouldn’t be easy for this crew to trust one of the vultures’ creators. And yet, as Roc had observed, what other choice did they have?
“I’ll state the obvious,” she said. “The mission plan, as we’ve known it, is done. Our ship is breaking down, atomic bit by atomic bit, and unless Roc has new figures to contribute, we have a matter of days—maybe hours—before time runs out.”
“The trouble with the computations,” Roc said, “is the rapidly changing nature of it all. An hour ago we might have had three days, and now it might be thirty-six hours, then back to forty-eight, and so forth. But the absolute bottom line is a maximum of three days. To be safe, I strongly recommend a change in our position no later than thirty hours from now. That should give us enough of a cushion to guarantee a safe departure.”
“So we’re definitely leaving,” Lita said. “No chance of fixing the shields?”
Gap shook his head. “No chance. We’re holding it all together right now with sweat and magic.” He looked around at the Council. “Roc’s advice is solid; we need to jump by tomorrow afternoon.”
It was something that simple: switching from days and hours to a specific, concrete deadline. Tomorrow afternoon. The impact was evident on each face in the room, including the usually stoic Bon. His fierce blue eyes shot first to Gap, then to Triana, who matched the intensity of his stare.
“Which means we either take a ride through a wormhole, or die,” Lita said. She didn’t wait for the obvious answer. “And that means we’re down to the choice that our guest laid out yesterday: Eos, or his home star system.”
“That’s right,” Triana said. “Unless someone has a last-minute suggestion.”
Channy looked troubled. “I’m confused about why we wouldn’t go to Eos. If that’s where we’re supposed to be—”
“But who’s to say that’s really where we’re supposed to be?” Lita said. “It seemed attractive to Dr. Zimmer a few years ago. But he couldn’t know everything about Eos; it was just the best choice at the time.”
Triana’s gaze shifted around the table. “Hannah, if you’re going to be part of the Council meetings, your input is not only welcomed but expected. Your thoughts?”
In earlier meetings Hannah would have blushed at the attention, but Triana noticed that now she appeared confident, almost anxious to help.
“It’s an interesting choice,” she said. “On one hand we have a shortcut offered to us, one that would get us to our new home planet—or planets—in a flash. Or we could just as quickly be neighbors with an incredibly advanced species. I’m torn. I think the best thing we could do right now is get some more information from our guest.”
“I agree,” Lita said. “Should we tap in some questions on the vidscreen?”
“That will not be necessary,” came a voice from the screen’s speakers. “I can communicate with you verbally.”
Nobody moved. The voice was unusual, with a strange pitch that gave it a metallic sound, not unlike bending sheets of aluminum. It wasn’t harsh or disturbing, nor did it come across as threatening. The words were crisp and formal, the ends clipped with what could have been described as an accent, although not any accent that the Council members recognized. Although the language was easily understood and familiar, the origin of the voice left no doubt that the speaker was alien.
Torrec had spoken.
Triana slowly sat back. She saw Lita’s mouth open, soundless, while Gap merely stared at the speakers, his eyes unblinking. Bon, oddly, was looking at Triana, his gaze cold and hard. He seemed almost angry that the alien visitor had spoken aloud.
Hannah, however, was smiling. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her fists, happily awaiting whatever came next.
“Okay,” Triana finally said. “This shouldn’t surprise us, of course. We’ve had voice simulation abilities for a long time.”
“Yes, we have,” Roc said. “But this isn’t our software. This is Torrec’s own adaptation of our system. It would seem he has learned all that he needs to know of our languages and our technical components.”
“That is correct,” the metallic voice said. “What information do you require?”
It took Triana a moment to remember that Hannah’s last request had been to quiz Torrec. The jellyfish seemingly had no objections.
“You’ve studied our mission plans, I’m sure,” Triana said. “Are you familiar with our original target star system?”
“Using your classification rules, it is similar to your home star system in many ways. A class G star, level five in luminosity, composed of heavy elements and burning in what is referred to as a main sequence. It lies in the portion of your galaxy known as the Local Interstellar Cloud. Seven planets, two that lie within the habitable zone.”
Hannah continued to smile. She looked at Triana and said: “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
“Torrec, do you have information on the ecological state of the two habitable planets?”
“The one farthest from the star, which your astronomers have labeled Eos Four, has proportionally more water than your home planet, with roughly eighty percent of the surface under water. The bulk of the landmasses seem to form a girdle around the planet’s equator, offering an environment suitable for plant and animal life. The planetary average temperature is slightly cooler
than your home planet, but not uncomfortably so.
“The other habitable planet, coded as Eos Three, is larger and warmer. It, too, has surface water, but only half as much, making the planet relatively arid. There are four major landmasses, the largest in the northern hemisphere, the other three in the southern hemisphere. Three of the four contain vegetation. There is abundant plant life, but of a much different type.
“Both planets have magnetic fields, both have a single large moon, as well as atmospheres that are similar, although not identical, to those surrounding your Earth. What other information do you require?”
The Council seemed to have barely grown accustomed to the fact that they were talking—actually talking—with an alien life-form. Only Hannah seemed at ease. She spoke again.
“Intelligent life. Are you aware of intelligent life on either of the planets, or on any other body of this star system?”
Triana was impressed. Hannah wasn’t about to concede that these two planets were the only potential sources of intelligent life in the system. The Cassini had taught the crew of Galahad a valuable lesson: never underestimate the moons.
Looking back, Triana realized that she’d never given much thought to the idea of intelligent beings on either planet until Hannah posed the question. She’d assumed, for whatever reason, that not only would the refugees stumble upon two worlds that could sustain them, but that the planets would be wild and free, and they’d be able to take what they needed without consideration for the native population, be it plant or animal. She’d never worked intelligent beings into the equation. In her mind, if they existed, humans would know about them by now.
Which meant that her surprise was genuine when Torrec responded: “Not currently. Eos Four was once home to a race of intelligent creatures, but they are gone.”
It was Triana’s turn to lean forward. “Eos Four? The water planet?”
“Correct,” Torrec said. “A rather advanced civilization. But they no longer exist.”
It was almost too much information, too quickly. Triana tried to imagine a vast civilization covering the watery surface of Eos Four, but everything she pictured had an Earthly texture to it, something that was unlikely on this alien world.