by Dom Testa
She bit her lip and looked around the Control Room. The smattering of crew members on duty—it never totaled more than five or six—seemed as nervous as she, most of them taking quick, furtive glances at the vidscreen. Roc’s vague description of the unexpected company ahead had altered the mood; if Bon’s heavy disposition had cast a gloom over the setting, it now had an overlapping tinge of fear.
The crew of Galahad had already experienced more than their share of the mysterious unknown, but that didn’t make each new incident any less ominous. They were constantly reminded of their vulnerability.
And, she thought grimly, they would always be the outsiders, the new guys on every new block. Always trespassing.
Another three minutes passed before Triana heard the lift door open. She glanced around to see Gap striding up to her. He apparently read her face instantly.
“What’s going on?” he said.
Triana shrugged. “Roc says there are … things up ahead. Unidentified, and hard to pin down.”
Like everyone else in the room, Gap peered up at the large vidscreen. “Things? Not rock or ice chunks, I take it.”
“They’re maneuvering.”
Gap’s head snapped around, and he stared hard at Triana. “Maneuvering? So they’re not natural.” He paused. “What do you think—”
“I have no idea what to think,” Triana said. She turned her attention back to the panel before her. “Roc, how long until they reach us?”
The computer’s voice replied, “Oh, they’re not approaching. They’re circling in our path, waiting for us to reach them. At least we have some prep time. I estimate we’ll make contact in roughly … fifty minutes.”
Gap nudged Triana. “Let me in here a minute.” He punched a few keys, looked at the results on the small screen before him, then keyed in a few more entries. A minute later he looked up at Triana.
“Yeah, they’re on both sides of our path.” He stood up and looked toward the large vidscreen again. “Ever seen a marathon? You know how people line the sides of the streets to either applaud the runners or hand them a cup of water? That’s what this is like; we have a little group of spectators waiting to welcome us.”
A shiver went down Triana’s neck. “Have you been able to tell anything else about them? What size are we talking about?”
Roc said, “Best guess would be about the size of a large bird. This, by the way, lends itself to the comparison I was going to make earlier, and one that is much better than Gap’s silly marathon analogy.”
“Which is?” Triana said.
“I’d say they’re behaving more like vultures, circling over the spot where a varmint is about to collapse in the heat of the desert.”
Triana’s shoulders sagged. “Great.”
“And,” Roc added, “they have the mobility of birds, too. What we’ve got here, ladies and gentleman, are space vultures.”
The words hung in the air of the Control Room, and Triana felt the atmosphere of dread tick upward another notch. Her mind sifted through their options, but only one idea came to her.
“Should we change course?”
“These things are incredibly quick,” Roc said. “They have already responded to our approach and placed themselves in position to intercept us. We can’t run away from them.
“I’m afraid,” the computer continued, “that we’re left with no choice but to plunge right through them.” After a pause, he added, “Gee, I hope they’re friendly.”
4
Channy sat with her feet dangling from the stage of the auditorium, staring out at a sea of mostly empty seats. She worked hard to keep a look of irritation off her face, and kept reminding herself that it was still early.
Behind her, on the stage, a crew of hastily assembled volunteers arranged a series of chairs, while others finished placing decorations that mostly resembled Valentine’s Day at an elementary school. Oversized pink and red hearts, along with improvised images that were meant to represent Cupid in a variety of poses, either hung from drop lines or trumpeted from the backs of chairs and podiums. After starting and stopping a few times, the soft sounds of what passed for romantic music drifted from the room’s speaker system.
Channy bumped her heels against the front of the stage and drummed her fingers across the floor. She watched one of the auditorium’s doors open and admit a smiling Lita, who strolled down the aisle.
“Hey, it looks really good, Channy. Very bright, very festive.”
“Very empty,” Channy said, gesturing toward the seats.
Lita sized up the situation and offered a look of pity. “It doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Nobody will ever want to be the first one here, you know that.”
“I smell a disaster.”
“Oh, stop that,” Lita said, swatting Channy on the leg. “It’s the first Dating Game, and you knew it was going to be a challenge.” She pulled herself up onto the stage and sat with her arm around Galahad’s Activities/Nutrition Director.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Lita said, “but now you know why I suggested you do this in the Dining Hall. At least the first one.” She waved her arm to indicate the room. “This is a very big space.”
“Because it’s a big event,” Channy said defensively. “Or at least it should be. You have to think big, you know.”
Lita seemed to measure her words before answering. “You have no problem thinking big, Channy. It’s too bad not everyone shares your enthusiasm all the time. But you know how human nature works.”
Channy grunted. “You mean to act like big chickens?”
“No. Sometimes people have to warm up to things, that’s all.”
A door opened at the top of an aisle and a girl peeked inside for a quick moment, before disappearing again and closing the door. Channy shook her head.
“That’s happened about ten times. If there were even a few more people in the seats they would come in and sit down. They’d sit as far back as they could, but at least they’d come in.” She turned to look at Lita. “Where’s the rest of the Council, anyway? You’d think I’d at least get some support there.”
“Something’s happening in the Control Room,” Lita said.
“Right. A likely story.”
Lita shook her head. “No, seriously. Triana didn’t tell me much, but said that they’re checking something out.” She paused and patted Channy’s shoulder. “C’mon, you know Triana supports everything you do on this ship.”
“Except this. She’s afraid I’ll stick her up here on stage as a contestant. And what about Bon? What about Gap?”
“Gap’s in the Control Room with Triana. And who are you kidding about Bon?”
Channy quietly stared into the room.
“You still have fifteen minutes,” Lita said.
“Five.”
“Okay, five minutes. Just start a few minutes late and I’ll bet you’ll see a bunch of people wander in. You know that curiosity will start to work on them.”
As she said this, the door opened and three crew members walked in, snickering among themselves as they took seats in the back.
“See?” Lita said, beaming. “It’s already started.”
“Wonderful,” Channy said sarcastically. “At this rate we’ll have more contestants on stage than in the seats.”
“Well, I’ll be in the seats,” Lita said, hopping off the stage and turning to look back. “Do not—repeat, do not—call me up there. In fact…” She turned back toward the door. “I’ll go find Alexa to sit with me. That’s another warm body for you.”
“Grab everybody you see on the way,” Channy called out to her. “Threaten them with tetanus shots if they don’t come.”
* * *
“I should do something,” Triana thought. “There should be something that I can do.”
And yet the harder she concentrated on the situation, the more she realized that they were helpless to do anything at the moment. Galahad sped toward a rendezvous with as many as ten unidenti
fied objects that loomed ahead, circling like vultures, as Roc had put it. There was no way to stop, no way to maneuver, which would be useless anyway, given the agility of the mysterious strangers. There remained but one question.
What would happen at the point of contact?
Triana kept her voice low as she spoke to both Gap and Roc. “Can we survive a collision?”
Gap responded with a similar hushed tone, never taking his eyes off his control panel. “We don’t even know what they are, so there’s no way to predict what would happen. I can’t believe they would just let us slam into them, though. A suicide job makes no sense. Besides … wait a minute.” He punched in a quick adjustment on the keyboard.
“What?” Triana said.
It was Roc who answered. “Well, isn’t this interesting.”
“What is it?” Triana said again. “Tell me.”
“Apparently they don’t want to stop us,” Roc said. “I think they intend to hitch a ride.”
Gap’s face displayed shock as he looked at Triana. “We are officially the fastest object in the history of our solar system. We should zip past these … whatever they are … in a microsecond. But … this is incredible.”
Before Triana could sputter another demand for information, Roc chimed in. “They have gone from circling in one spot to an acceleration that doesn’t seem possible. They have adapted to our course, and are suddenly rocketing along almost as fast as we are. That changes our time of contact, of course. With their new speed and trajectory, we have a whopping ninety-five minutes until we are rubbing shoulders … or wings … or whatever these things have.”
Gap shook his head. “I don’t know how they did it, but suddenly they’re pacing us.” He looked up at the room’s vidscreen. “Nothing should be able to accelerate that fast.”
Triana was again aware of the atmosphere in the Control Room, and tried to modulate her response to cloak any sign of panic. “Well, I guess that rules out any intention of collision.” She bit her lip for a moment before continuing. “Is there something we can do to keep them away from the ship? Maybe some sort of electrical charge on the outside?”
The silence from Gap and Roc answered the question.
“Well,” she said, “what about rocking the ship, or going into some sort of controlled spin?”
“No,” Gap said. “I think we need to accept the fact that these things are going to catch us and grab hold. I’m not sure that would cause any problems, actually.”
“Unless they cut their way into the ship,” Roc added. “Or oozed some sort of acid that ate its way through the skin of the ship. Or physically started eating the ship. My, imagine that; actually eating the steel of our ship.”
“Stop,” Triana said.
“How can that not fascinate you?” the computer asked. “Or what if they—”
Gap interrupted. “Tree, do you, uh, want to make some sort of announcement to the crew?”
The idea had flashed through her mind. Would it make sense to warn the crew of their impending contact, or better to just wait and see what happened. After a moment’s hesitation, she shook her head.
“Later. Let’s see if the situation changes in the next half hour or so.” She took a few steps away from the console and stood with one hand on her hip, the other cupped around her chin. She studied the large vidscreen that refused to divulge any sign of the vultures.
One thing after another, after another, after another …
Triana could pick up the uncomfortable vibe of the room, the tinge of fear that seeped from each crew member. She marveled at how quickly the aura of the group had shifted from when she had first walked in. Bon was absent, and the unease he triggered was now replaced by alarm of the unknown.
It was a feeling that apparently the crew of Galahad should get used to, she realized.
She turned to Gap. “We’re certain about the time until contact?”
He glanced at his monitor, and then back to her. “Yes. Just over ninety minutes.”
“Okay,” she said, walking toward the door of the lift. “I’ll be back in forty-five. If anything changes, call me immediately. I’ll be in my room.”
A puzzled look spread across Gap’s face, but he mumbled a quick “sure” before bending back to his monitor.
Three minutes later Triana sat down at the desk in her room. As the Council Leader, she had the luxury of solitude, the only crew member without a roommate. At times like this, she was grateful.
“Roc,” she called out.
The computer responded at once. “Don’t you just love this? Another big adventure. Some people go their whole lives without a whiff of excitement, and yet we could practically bottle the stuff.”
“I think I speak for the rest of the crew when I say that we could use a nice, long, boring stretch. Like about four years’ worth.”
“Are you sure?” Roc said. “It’s all in your perspective; just think how battle-tested you’ll be once you reach Eos. At this rate, there won’t be a thing that could surprise you at your new home. Wouldn’t want to sail all the way there without a little conflict now and then; you’d show up lazy and complacent.”
Triana responded with a grunt of skepticism, then changed the subject. “Listen, I didn’t want to talk about this in the Control Room, in front of the crew.”
“I knew that’s what you were doing,” Roc said. “Either that or a quick bathroom break.”
She ignored this. “After our misunderstanding of the Cassini, I’m a little hesitant to assume the intentions of anything we might encounter out here in the middle of nowhere. But it would be irresponsible of me to not assume that these … vultures, or whatever you want to call them, are dangerous.”
“I agree,” the computer said.
“And it would also be irresponsible of me, as the Council Leader, to not take every precaution possible to protect this ship.”
“Again, I concur.”
Triana paused for a moment before continuing. She tapped a finger on her desk and said, “I hate to be the aggressor in a situation like this, but…” Her voice trailed off.
Roc filled the empty silence that followed. “You know, even though I’m not human, I know your species, and I know your history. I have read practically everything ever written—well, except some of those romance novels; I get easily embarrassed—and your history texts are full of instances where people fall back on one particular rule.”
Triana obliged the computer by asking the obvious question. “And what rule is that?”
“Shoot first, ask questions later.”
There was another long silence. “Well,” Triana finally offered, “that’s kinda what I was getting around to. My question for you is: Do we have anything to shoot with?”
“What do you mean? You know this ship isn’t equipped—”
“I know what we’ve been told,” Triana interjected. “I know that Dr. Zimmer didn’t have the time or resources to build a traditional weapons system into the ship.”
“So,” Roc said, “what are you suggesting?”
Triana tapped her finger a few more times. “I’m suggesting that there might be something in the Storage Sections for us to use.”
“Ah-ha,” Roc said. “Silly me. I never saw your mind going in that direction.”
Triana chose to remain silent for the moment and wait for the computer to answer her charge. But her mind, in fact, had gone in that particular direction the moment she had learned that the vultures were pacing the ship. Galahad was essentially a modern Mayflower, delivering the human race to a new world, full of new opportunities, new challenges. But it also was a ship of peace; there were no weapons of any kind aboard.
Or were there?
The crew had been trained in every aspect of the immense ship, and they were intimately aware of every square inch of their home-away-from-home … with one exception.
Dr. Zimmer had insisted that the teenage crew remain in the dark about the last components to be loaded aboard before lau
nch. Dubbed only as the Storage Sections, they occupied the majority of Galahad’s lowest level. Dark passageways surrounded these impenetrable vaults. The contents were a mystery, one that would not be revealed until the young explorers entered the space around Eos, now a little more than four years away.
“It’s for your own good,” was all that Dr. Zimmer would say when pressed. “You won’t need any of it until you arrive. The best thing for you to do is simply forget that the Storage Sections even exist. Go about your days without even thinking of them.”
But it was impossible to assemble a crew of the best and brightest and not expect insatiable curiosity. If Zimmer had known it would have this effect, he hadn’t let it influence his decision. The crew would not know the contents until the end of the ride.
But Roc did know.
When it was obvious that he would not volunteer any more information, Triana stopped tapping her finger and sat back. “I’m not asking for an inventory, you understand, right? I’m only suggesting that if there’s something in there that could help us defend ourselves, this might be a good time to open up.”
She paused before adding, “In fact, it might be our last time to open up.”
“We don’t know what these vultures really are,” Roc said. “They might be harmless.”
“They might not be.”
“Perhaps they intend to just look at us.”
“Perhaps they intend to do more.”
“You like arguing, don’t you?” Roc said.
“And you don’t?”
“I can’t tell you what’s inside the Storage Sections.”
Triana let out a slow breath. “Even if it could save us.”
The computer mimicked her dramatic exhale. “I’m not able to confirm or deny that anything exists within those units that might, or might not, be able to help. Humans are prone to break sworn promises; I’m not capable of that. I don’t blame you for asking; in fact, I think it’s rather ingenious of you to ask. But stop asking.”