The Galahad Legacy

by Dom Testa

  Her mind then raced ahead to the demise of these inhabitants. Torrec was quick to point out that they’d been advanced, but their intelligence had not saved them. Had it been a natural disaster? Or was it a catastrophe of their own making? Had their wisdom not matched their intelligence? She asked Torrec about this.

  “Unknown,” the jellyfish said. “We have not ventured to their world. We monitored their communications. It ended without warning, and never returned.”

  “How long ago?”

  Torrec paused, as if calculating, translating time from a Dollovit calendar to an Earthly measurement. When he answered, he left it vague. “Long before your species evolved.”

  Gap finally broke his silence. “But both planets are, as you say, habitable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there predators?”

  “Predators come in many forms,” Torrec said. “Please be specific.”

  Triana sat forward, interested in Gap’s line of questioning.

  “Well,” Gap said, “do either of the habitable planets harbor life-forms that would offer … how do I say this? Offer a substantial threat to our species?”

  “Possibly. Yet that is true of your home planet, is it not?”

  Short and to the point. Triana recalled that all of his communications with her, going back to their first back-and-forth exchange on the pod’s vidscreen, had been the same way. Torrec’s style did not allow for unnecessary flourishes.

  Gap conceded the point. He looked at Triana and shrugged.

  “I’d like to jump in here,” Lita said. “The additional information about the Eos system is appreciated, but I, for one, would like to know what would be in store for us around your star. There are no habitable planets, I take it, at least not for our species. So that means we would live out our existence—as would our children—in an artificial world, probably not much different than this ship. Is that correct?”

  Again, Torrec hesitated, this time for so long that Lita was preparing to ask again when he finally answered.

  “You would be cared for in an environment that is pleasant to your species.”

  Lita turned to Triana with an expression that seemed to say “that’s not exactly the answer I was looking for.” Aloud, to Torrec, she said: “Would we be the only such species living in your system?”

  “No.”

  For the first time since the meeting began, Bon spoke up. He let out a grunt, then said: “It’s a zoo. We would be specimens in a zoo.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I disagree. I’ve never heard of a zoo offering the animals the choice of going to a different wild habitat instead. And even if we choose Torrec’s home system, we—”

  “Let’s hold off on the debate for right now,” Triana said, cutting off Hannah. “This meeting is for information gathering. We can discuss it amongst ourselves later.”

  “There’s some more information I’d like,” Gap said. “Torrec, there’s another wormhole—uh, Channel—up ahead. We see that copies of our pod have flown out of it, and are waiting for us. Could you explain those?”

  “Your vessel is inadequately equipped,” Torrec’s metallic voice answered. “You are welcome to use these replications.”

  “Um … thank you,” Gap said. “And there’s also a…” He looked at Triana. “I don’t know what they’re called. Certainly not amoebas.”

  “Torrec,” she said. “There is also a protective vessel, similar to the one that hosted you. Do these have a name?”

  “The closest sound that you could re-create would be croy.”

  “Croy,” Gap said. “So, can you explain the presence of the croy with the pods?”

  For the third time, the Dollovit ambassador waited before answering. Triana couldn’t decide if he was simply taking care to craft the appropriate response, or if there was a darker explanation. She felt that her skills in judging people—and their motives—were above average. Those skills, however, fell short outside of her own species. How did one read a jellyfish?

  “We use the croy,” Torrec said, “as biologically stable transport devices.”

  Gap chuckled. “Of course. That explains it perfectly.”

  “Excellent,” Torrec said.

  Despite the weightiness of the meeting, Triana couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, Gap, I don’t think sarcasm registers with the Dollovit. But if I understand him correctly, it means they use them to safely move around in space. Like our Spiders and pods.”

  “This is correct,” Torrec said. “Croy are a combination of artificial components and animate systems. They both protect and nurture the occupant.”

  Channy sat forward. “Animate? As in the opposite of inanimate? As in alive? The croy are alive?”

  “Not as you understand the word. For Dollovit, croy are symbiotic partners, with each providing and receiving in equal parts.”

  Triana digested this information. Symbiotic. A mutual, beneficial relationship between two parties. In this case, jellyfish and croy. Supporting each other, providing sustenance for each other, protecting each other.

  And now a croy had popped into the path of Galahad.

  The meeting was interrupted by a call from Bryson in Engineering. “Gap, Triana, the shields are winking on and off.”

  Gap didn’t hesitate. “Roc,” he said, “another one percent of power. Can you move it over to the shields?”

  “Done,” the computer said. “And … yes, that’s working.”

  Bryson confirmed the shields’ stability. “Well, for now,” he added.

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Gap said, breaking the connection. He threw a knowing glance at Triana. “I don’t want to add any more drama than we already have, but if you ask me, we need to get out of here. Like, now.”

  9

  Back in her room, Hannah checked her mail before reporting to her work post. There was one new message.

  Merit.

  She groaned, and quickly scanned the text, which was short and concise: “I need you to do something for me.”

  Her gut reaction was to write back and say forget it. She went so far as to hit the reply button before her rational mind pushed back against her emotions. Closing out of the system, she sat back and forced herself to calm down. She’d entered into a poisonous partnership with Merit when she’d allowed him to talk her into running for the temporarily vacant Council Leader position. Now she was paying the price. It had already further damaged her relationship with Gap—a situation that continued to torment her daily—and it threatened to undermine the respect that she’d built up among the crew.

  But she also could see no way out. Merit had played her, and he continued to hold their partnership as a bargaining chip. He’d made it clear that he was more than willing to exploit their shadowy connection to get his way.

  He was a villain. How could she have overlooked that when he first sat down with her and flashed that Cheshire grin?

  Deal with it, she told herself. See what he wants, and either go along or not.

  A few minutes later she entered Sick House and was relieved to find neither Lita nor Manu in the outer room. Another assistant nodded when she asked if it was okay to speak with Merit.

  “Ahoy, Alaska Girl,” he said, setting down a workpad. “What took you so long?”

  “I was in a meeting.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I’m busy. What do you want?”

  “Look,” he said, holding up the cast. “Three signatures now. There’s a great spot for yours right here.”

  “You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me what you want.”

  He grinned, the usual dark shock of hair spilling over his face. He left it there.

  “I’ve heard that ol’ Jellyhead is actually speaking now.”

  The Council meeting had barely ended, and already word had filtered down to Merit. It no longer surprised Hannah that his network of rats could get word to him that quickly; on Galahad the six degrees of separation was more like two. All it took was one person to utte
r something in a small group. And, with Channy’s tendency to gossip, the odds were that a crew member at the gym had picked up the broadcast within minutes and pushed it through the pipeline.

  “His name is Torrec,” she said.

  “Right. Torrec. King of the Scyphozoa. That’s the class of animals that jellyfish—”

  “I know what it is,” Hannah said.

  “Of course you do. Anyway, I’d like to talk to him, and I’d like for you to make that happen.”

  Hannah couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing. “Sure, let me make an appointment for you right away. Torrec, this is Merit Simms, the young man who almost killed all of us.”

  Merit’s sneer faded, replaced with a cold, penetrating stare. “Watch your step, Hannah. Remember our arrangement.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “You might call it an arrangement, Merit. I call it a sick form of blackmail. I’m not your personal secretary. Set up your own meeting.”

  She turned to leave when he said: “Okay, I’ll ask Gap to set it up. We can have a little talk. You know, catch up. Talk about our mutual friends. Compare notes, that kinda stuff.”

  Against her will, Hannah pulled up by the door. She counted to ten before turning around.

  “How often are you going to pull out this card?” she said. “Should I expect to hear this threat over and over again? I’m not even sure I care if you spew your garbage to Gap, or anyone else.”

  “Of course you care,” Merit said. “But it’s so unnecessary. Just set up a meeting with Jellyhead, and bring me along. How hard is that? Triana expects you to visit with him. You know, research. Why can’t you have company?”

  She stood with her arms crossed, eyes on the floor, teeth clenched. Inside she seethed, furious with herself for tripping up, for having anything to do with this snake.

  “And if I do, this is it. Understood? No more. We part company, and you don’t contact me again.”

  “Oh, Hannah, you’re breaking my heart. Where did our love go?”

  “Say it. This is it.”

  He grinned again. “This is it, babe.” Then he cocked his head to one side. “Until you come crawling on your knees, crying, begging me to take you back.”

  Hannah spun and walked out of the room, muttering words that would have shocked her family and friends.

  * * *

  Lita gave Bon an hour after the meeting to catch up on his work, then made her way to his office. He was in the process of pointing out a mistake to one of the crew members assigned to the Farms for the current tour.

  Bon’s method of pointing out mistakes was not a pleasant experience. Lita waited outside until the rattled worker hurried past, doubtless on her way to amend the error. A moment later the tall Swede lumbered by as well, his head buried in a sheaf of papers, oblivious to Lita’s presence.

  “Hey, hold up,” she said, racing to match his furious stride.

  Bon looked back, but kept his pace. “You again? Should I put you to work up here?”

  “I am working. Part of my training included psychology, you know.”

  He ignored this, and turned at a fork in the path that led into Dome 2. They continued walking in silence until reaching a low bank of green metal boxes, electrical transformers that cycled the energy demands for the dome. Within a minute Bon had two of the boxes open.

  “Here,” he said, handing a crumpled and stained bag of tools to Lita. “I wasn’t kidding about the work. We’re changing out these.” He held up a diamond-shaped cartridge. “Besides, you need to get your hands dirty once in a while.”

  She hesitated, then grabbed the bag. “Show me what to do.”

  It wasn’t a complicated job, only time consuming. Within a few minutes Lita fell into the tempo that Bon set. Once comfortable with the routine, she found that she enjoyed it. The change of pace was energizing.

  “You’re not getting free labor, you know,” she said. “In exchange for my sweat, you have to talk.”

  “I’m sorry, did I ask you to come out here?”

  “Oh, quit being Mr. Tough Guy. Which way are you leaning with our wormhole choice?”

  Bon shrugged. “You heard what I said in the meeting. I won’t be a zoo animal.”

  “I thought Hannah made a good point. Wouldn’t it be more like a cooperative relationship?”

  “Don’t overtighten that,” Bon said, pointing to the screw that held the cartridge she was working on. “It’ll snap, and we don’t have an infinite supply.”

  “Do you at least have a preference for a particular Eos planet? One that’s mostly water, but some vegetation, or one that’s drier?”

  A trickle of sweat slipped from Bon’s nose. He leaned back on his heels and took a drink from a water bottle. “I don’t care. Put me on the ground and I can produce food.” He looked into Lita’s eyes. “You don’t want to be kept in a jar around a red sun, do you?”

  Lita laughed. “Honestly? No. But if that’s what turns out to be best for us, I’d adapt. I mean, I’ve adapted to life inside this jar, right?”

  “But with a destination to guide you,” Bon said. “Something to look forward to.”

  She reached out and took the water bottle he offered. After taking a drink, she wiped her mouth with the back of a hand and squinted at him. “I guess I’ve been pretty realistic about Eos. It’s good to see the end of the tunnel, but keep in mind that what’s outside the tunnel could be harsh. Compared to either planet, we’ve got a pretty cushy thing here. Just look around.”

  “We stay one step ahead of disaster,” Bon said. “Maybe a half step. I’m ready to be on the ground, ready to climb out and breathe real air.”

  Lita smiled. “I don’t know why, but you still surprise me sometimes. Okay, sounds like you’re firmly in the camp for Eos. So let me ask you something else.”

  Bon held up a hand. “Pay attention to what you’re doing. Look at the cartridge. Straighten it up like I showed you.” He shook his head and bent over his own work.

  Lita waited for a minute, working in silence, before pushing the conversation forward. “Tell me what’s going on with the Cassini.”

  “You have the translator.”

  “And you’re connecting without it now, aren’t you?”

  He stopped what he was doing and stalled by taking another drink. Then he shrugged. “Okay. Yes.”

  Lita kept her eyes on her work, but a worried frown covered her face. “I thought so. Which means the tinkering they’re doing with your brain is probably about finished. You’ve been altered.”

  Bon looked off toward the far side of the dome. He ignored a bee floating inches from his face, exploring the area. “It’s for the good. There’s not as much pain when I connect, and I have much more control. Much more.”

  “Are you able to get answers?” Lita said.

  He thought about it, then shook his head. “Not the answers I’m looking for. Not yet.”

  Then he turned back to Lita. “But I will.”

  * * *

  After spending a half hour in Engineering with Gap, Triana was satisfied with the patch for the shields. She knew it wouldn’t last much more than a day, but if all went the way she expected, they wouldn’t need it much more than that.

  Her earlier chat with Galahad’s computer, however, kept replaying in her mind. Something about that dialogue didn’t sit well with her, and until she followed it up she wouldn’t feel comfortable. She hustled up to her room to speak to Roc in private. Once inside, she quickly took care of the handful of pressing matters that had popped into her e-mail inbox, then settled into her chair.

  “Roc, any news with the pods and the croy?”

  “The pods are merely drifting near the Channel opening, while the croy has apparently programmed an intercept course with us. In my opinion it’s like a restaurant menu: the pods are the appetizers that we’ll either sample or ignore, while the croy is their special of the day and the waiter is pushing it on us.”

  Triana considered her next few questions
. It was important to proceed with this exchange carefully.

  “In your conversations with Torrec, what else have you found out about them?”

  “Is there something you specifically want to know?” Roc asked.

  Triana felt a jolt. With this one question—and its answer—uneasiness settled in, and she internally retreated to assess the situation. For the first time since the launch, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind regarding the supercomputer that held so much of their fate in its virtual hands. For the first time, she began to wonder about Roc’s loyalties.

  It was subtle. From the moment they’d established contact with Torrec, Roc had behaved like an adoring fan, to the point where Triana now wondered if the computer still had the crew’s best interests as a priority.

  This wasn’t a random concern, plucked from her imagination. During the extensive Galahad training sessions on Earth, she’d had several in-depth discussions with Roc’s creator. Roy Orzini had been a crew favorite, a diminutive man who made up for his small physical stature with an intellect that dwarfed the average person, especially when it came to his specialty: artificial intelligence.

  On more than one occasion Triana asked Roy about the concept of Moore’s Law, and how it applied to artificial brains. The law, named after an innovator and entrepreneur of the twentieth century, predicted that computer processing power would double approximately every two years. Carried out over decades, many feared that it would soon lead to computers that rivaled—or even surpassed—the computing power of the human mind.

  Triana remembered quizzing Roy about this.

  “But aren’t we there already?”

  “In some ways, yes,” Roy said. “Today’s supercomputers have more processing power, in a technical sense, than we have.” He looked at her with a somewhat repressed smile. “But processing power doesn’t necessarily mean true thinking, and certainly not feeling.”

  “But how do you know that?” Triana asked. “Aren’t we at the point where computers don’t even need us to build them anymore? They can replicate themselves and increase their power even more.”