by Dom Testa
Bon stared at the image for almost a minute, then snapped it off. He stood, hands on hips for a moment, then leaned over and shoved a pile of papers off the side of his desk. He stormed to the door and out into the dome’s artificial sunlight, while the papers scattered across the floor.
20
Lita’s hair spilled across her shoulders. The bright red ribbon that normally held it in place sat before her on the dresser in her room while she applied a small dab of lotion to her hands and elbows. As with most personal grooming supplies on the ship, the lotion was rationed, and each crew member was asked to use it no more than once per week. Lita stared at her hands and felt grateful that her duties kept her from working in the fields. She’d heard several complaints from the girls who had finished their six-week tours of duty in the domes; the work was good, and they loved the sensation of being outdoors, but the toll on their skin could be brutal.
As Lita reached for the ribbon, a small chime sounded; someone was at her door. She walked over and opened it to find Channy standing there.
“Got a minute?” the young Brit asked.
Lita hadn’t seen her since she’d been expelled from the Council meeting, but the visit didn’t surprise her. Channy often sought her out as a sounding board.
“Uh, sure, come on in. I need to be in Sick House pretty soon, but I have a few minutes. I want to be there before Gap and … oh, you probably don’t know about that. We’re doing another EVA.”
Channy nodded uncomfortably and sat on the edge of Lita’s bed. “I did hear about it. Listen, about the Council meeting…”
“I don’t think you need to talk to me about that,” Lita said, resuming her seat at the dresser. “That’s a discussion for you and Tree.”
“I know, and I will. But I also wanted to explain to you what’s going on. Tree … well, Tree probably wouldn’t understand.”
Lita gave her a look from the corner of her eye. “If you mean because it involves a boy, I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion if I were you. I think you need to give Tree a little more credit than that. Besides…” She turned back toward the mirror. “Not to sound rude, and please don’t take this wrong, but it’s not like you’ve got a lot of experience yourself.”
Channy laced her fingers together and leaned forward. “You’re right, and I’m sorry that I’ve caused a distraction during an important time. But … I’m finding it very hard to concentrate on my work these days. I can’t seem to shut my brain off about Taresh, and it’s driving me crazy. I was hoping you might be able to help me.”
Looking at the reflection of Channy in the mirror, Lita frowned. “I hope you’re not referring to medication.”
“No, no, no,” Channy said hurriedly. “No, nothing like that. I was just hoping that you could talk to me a little bit.” She laughed, a nervous sputter of sound, and clamped her fingers together more tightly. “Lita, I’m in love.” When Lita didn’t answer, she quickly added, “I told him, which I know might have been a foolish thing to do. But now I’m even more of a wreck.”
Lita tied the ribbon in her hair, then adjusted it slightly. She finally turned to face Channy. “Really, I want to help, but this is not a good time. Gap and Mira are about to go out and confront the vultures, and I have to be at my post in Sick House. I don’t want you to think I’m blowing you off, but this is not a quick conversation.”
Channy looked glum. “No, sure, I understand.”
An exasperated sigh slipped from Lita. “In the meantime, since you’re asking for my help, I’ll tell you this: slow down. You’ve got to take a deep breath and remember that you have a job to do.”
“I know I have a job to do,” Channy blurted out. “I know that I need to slow down. That’s all anyone keeps telling me. That’s not exactly the help I’m looking for.” She stood up and began to pace around the room. “I swear, everyone talks to me about this like I’m a child.”
“Channy, people care about you. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I think you just want everyone to endorse your behavior. We’re all supposed to tell you to sit around mooning over Taresh, neglect your duties at the gym, daydream during Council meetings, and walk around in a haze. Well, I’m sorry, that’s not what anyone’s going to tell you. If you’re being treated like a child, it’s probably because you’re acting very immature right now.”
Channy stopped her pacing and turned to glare at Lita. “I thought you were my friend.”
Lita threw her hands up. “Do you see what I’m talking about? Nobody can tell you anything that you want to hear, so suddenly we’re all against you. It’s too bad that the truth hurts. For your information, you are not the first person to develop a crush on someone, and you’re not the first person to feel pain from a relationship. It’s just the first time for you, and it’s dominating your life right now.”
She paused for a moment to let herself cool a bit, then said: “I’ve started experimenting more with meditation these days. No, before you roll your eyes, listen to me. Our thoughts can get out of control, and before you know it there’s too much overload going on and our minds can’t process it fast enough. I think if you took some time to get outside of yourself, to look at your obsessive thoughts from a detached perspective, you’d probably see what the rest of us see: a beautiful, delightful, and talented young woman who has allowed one thing to dominate her world, to steal her spirit. You have created a loop in your thinking, and now it’s feeding off itself. That’s all I mean when I say to slow down. Just take a step back, allow things to calm a bit.”
She stood up. “And again, I’m sorry, but I have to get to Sick House. If you want to talk about this later—”
“No,” Channy said, walking briskly toward the door. “I don’t want to trouble you any more with this. I won’t bother anyone else, ever again.” She rushed out the door.
Lita had opened her mouth to call out to her, but never got the chance. Instead, she let out another sigh and rubbed her forehead. “Oh, Channy,” she muttered.
* * *
The Spider rolled silently out into the canvas of stars. Gap took a quick glance at Mira in the seat beside him; her look of determination and concentration emboldened him. At some level it was understood that each member of the crew had passed countless tests to determine his or her competence, yet Gap nevertheless felt a wave of pride that he was part of such an elite team of young adults. He was convinced that Mira represented the best part of them, with her attitude and her courage.
He shifted his gaze to the front window. The lower right arm of the Spider grasped a long, thin rod, with a starburst array of metal at the far end. To Gap it closely resembled a ski pole, but in actuality was a small air-cannon. A flexible tube at the opposite end spiraled into a tank of oxygen that had been attached to the Spider’s hull. The apparatus had been designed and assembled by some of the ship’s brightest engineering students, based on details supplied by Roc and Lita. Several of the crew members responsible for the assignment had gathered in the Spider bay to watch the launch of their handiwork—again at the insistence of Triana, who found every way possible for crew members to take pride in their contributions to the mission.
Although the device had been tested and retested after its installation, Gap pulled the Spider up alongside Galahad to try it again in the vacuum of space. His duties mainly involved piloting the small craft, while Mira was in charge of the oxygen gun.
“Okay,” Gap said. “Let’s give it a quick burst.”
The control resembled an old-fashioned video game joystick. Mira flexed her fingers a few times before gripping it. The burst of oxygen would automatically generate a small matching thrust from the Spider’s engines, which would counteract the force of the gun and keep the craft steady.
As they both stared through the window, Mira gently squeezed the trigger, and they watched a tight stream of brightly colored particles jet from the starburst end of the pole. It had been the brainstorm of one of Galahad’s engineering whizzes to mix the colorful p
articles into the tank. The oxygen itself was colorless, so this provided them with a way of gauging their aim.
Mira turned to Gap. “Looks like we’re ready to go,” she said.
He knew that Triana was listening in from the Control Room. “Tree, we’re set to work our way over to target one.” It was the designation they had chosen for the vulture they assumed was the “squadron leader.” Perched along the top of the ship’s port side, its venting and light emissions had remained constant from the moment it had fallen under observation. After consulting with Roc, they had decided to focus their initial oxygen burst at this supposed leader; the hope was that scaring away this one might create havoc among the creatures, causing all of them to flee at once.
“If it truly is their command unit,” Triana had said, “then maybe it will sound the retreat for all of them.”
Now, in response to Gap’s message, she offered a quick reply: “Stand by, Gap.”
Communication was also open to Sick House, and Triana made sure that they were in the loop. “Lita, how’s our guest today?”
“Pretty quiet,” Lita said. “Alexa’s here and she says the light emissions have dropped to a minimum. I don’t know if the thing is capable of sleep, but there’s not much going on.”
“Okay,” Triana said. “We have monitors set on all of the others outside the ship. Once this gets going we’ll all have to stay in touch with each other. Roc, you’re still tracking their dark energy conversion, correct?”
“And that has gone strangely quiet as well,” the computer said. “It’s like some cosmic version of a stare down right now. But I think we can pretty well assume that things will change once the oxygen hits the fan.”
Gap and Mira heard this over the intercom. They looked at each other, and Gap nodded grimly. It was understood that they could very well be the ones who absorbed the brunt of any violent reaction from the vultures. For all of the potential danger, however, there was nowhere else Gap wanted to be.
“Gap, Mira,” Triana said. “You are clear to go.”
Nudging the throttle, Gap piloted the Spider up the side of the ship. He felt a small bead of perspiration dot his forehead, but welcomed it and the edge that accompanied it.
Three minutes later they spotted their target, its jet-black outline as ominous as the first time they’d seen it. Slowing as he approached, Gap could see the random beacon of blue-green light seeping from beneath the vulture. At first glance it seemed much less intense than their previous observation; but as he drew near, the color once again grew intense, and the frequency picked up.
This didn’t surprise Gap; the creatures would be keenly aware of what had happened the last time a Spider approached, and the alarm would surely be sounded. In fact, as soon as they were within hovering distance, he heard Lita’s voice break through the intercom.
“Well, it looks like naptime is over for our friend here in Sick House. It’s back to its usual antics, darting all over the interior of the box. I’m guessing that Gap and Mira have arrived at the ringleader’s position?”
“That’s affirmative,” Gap said, bringing the Spider to a full stop. “The light show got cranked up here, too.”
Triana said, “I guess that leaves no doubt that it’s part of their communication. Roc, any way of measuring your dark energy theory here?”
“Not directly. However, there is quite an increase in vent activity going on with each of the vultures, including the specimen in Sick House. We still have no way of observing the use of subatomic particles between these things … but I know I’m right.”
Gap chuckled. “I love your confidence.”
“It’s more a matter of ruling out just about everything else,” Roc said. “There still is no transfer or loss of heat, electrical energy, or traditional atomic energy. They’re powering up somehow; dark energy is really all that’s left.”
“I’ll tell you one thing I don’t like,” Lita interjected. “The one we’ve got down here is settling near the hatch on this vacuum box. For the first time it’s acting like it knows how to get out.”
Triana said, “Things are starting to happen quickly, which is pretty much what we expected. Everyone report immediately if you spot something else new. Lita, do we need to jettison your specimen right now?”
There was a lengthy pause; it was evident that Lita and Alexa were discussing the question.
“Not yet,” Lita said. “Alexa thinks this might be a valuable time to study it. We’ll hang in here for now.”
“All right,” Gap said. “Tree, we’re ready, whenever you want to give the word.”
He expected hesitation from her, but there was none. When she quickly replied, “You’re clear to go,” he understood that she had likely already thought through it dozens of times. He envied her ability to lead confidently, yet he also felt compassion for the pressure that her position must generate.
He nursed the throttle again, and maneuvered the Spider to within six feet of the vulture, tilting the small craft forward so that he and Mira could watch everything play out through the front window.
Gap took his hands from the controls and sat back. “Ever heard of Annie Oakley?” he said to Mira.
She kept her gaze directed through the window at the vulture, but allowed a smirk to play across her face. “Only the greatest female sharpshooter of all time. Wow, no pressure on me now.” Her hand once again settled on the joystick, and Gap saw her flexing her fingers. Unconsciously he did the same.
With just a hint of forward pressure, Mira extended the Spider’s arm, and with it the long tube. When it was within three feet of the vulture, she paused and looked at Gap. “I know this probably isn’t what anyone wants to hear right now,” she said. “But there’s something I want to say before I pull the trigger.
“First, let me preface this by saying that I wholeheartedly agree that this is what we should be doing. However, this is rather a historic moment, and I think we should recognize that.”
Gap nodded, and could almost psychically feel the people in Galahad’s Control Room and Sick House doing the same.
Lita’s voice came through the speaker. “Even though it’s not deadly force, this is essentially the first case of humans attacking an alien being.” She paused, then added, “May we never grow numb to the implications or the consequences.”
“Thank you, Mira, for acknowledging the event,” Triana said. “And Lita, that was beautifully spoken. Thank you.”
There followed almost a full minute of waiting, as if they all wanted to pay solemn respect to the end of their mission’s innocence. Then, Mira once again leaned over the controls. “Oxygen burst in five seconds. Four. Three.”
The rest of the countdown was unspoken. She and Gap watched through the window of the Spider, while the others monitored on their vidscreens, as a blast of colored particles shot from the tube. The stream of concentrated oxygen, lasting no more than three seconds, impacted the vulture.
The reaction was immediate and dramatic. A blaze of color erupted from what appeared to be the entire underside of the alien entity; but whereas before it had been a subtle, almost gentle, blue-green hue, now that shade was joined by a violent red, along with flashes of bright yellow. Gap and Mira found themselves shielding their eyes, for now the colors didn’t merely seep from beneath the creature, but burst from below, as if a lid had been pried off.
At the same time, Gap felt a tiny shudder pass through the Spider. His first thought was that it was merely his own physical reaction to the fiery light show, perhaps his body recoiling from the shock. But seconds later he felt it again, faint yet noticeable. It was like a pond’s ripple gently causing a boat to sway.
He said to Mira: “Did you feel that?”
“I’m glad you said something,” she said. “I wasn’t sure at first, but when it happened again…”
Triana was able to hear their conversation, and she broke in. “Gap, what’s going on? What did you feel?”
“I would describe it as a s
mall shudder,” he said. “Has to be some sort of reaction that the vulture had to the oxygen gun. You saw the colors, right?”
“Yes. It was hard to see because of the glare, but I also believe that the vent activity skyrocketed, too. Roc, can you confirm?”
“I can and will,” the computer said. “This time every vent went into overdrive. This little oxygen shot must be the vulture equivalent of chewing on aluminum foil. Plus, I can tell you that the colors are playing out on every one of the creatures. The shudder that Gap describes is more than likely tied in with their use of dark energy. It could even be a space-time reaction.”
“What does that mean?” Gap said.
“It means,” Roc said, “that we know so little about dark energy, but we know that it’s potent enough to disrupt things at the tiniest subatomic levels. What you felt, Gap, might have actually been the Spider bumped by a space-time wave. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you and Mira aged an extra billionth of a second without knowing it.”
“Lita,” Triana said. “What’s going on with the specimen in Sick House?”
“It has plastered itself against the box,” Lita said. “The lights on it are going a little crazy, but I’m not getting any kind of ripple effect like Gap mentioned.”
The communication between them went silent for a few seconds. Then Gap offered another observation. “For all of that activity, the vulture didn’t let go of the ship. I think Roc’s right, we stung it pretty well; but it held on. Do we give it round two?”
“Wait two minutes,” Triana said after consideration. “It might be processing, which is why we’re getting the light and vent show. If it doesn’t reach the decision that we’re hoping for, we’ll coax it a little more.”
Gap shifted his attention from the window to the magnified image of the vulture on his vidscreen. The dazzling lights were still brighter than normal, but had subsided enough for him to make out the agitated vent activity. As Roc had described, each one was fluttering, some more quickly than others. Although it was happening in the soundless void of deep space, Gap thought it resembled the valves on a musical instrument; he wondered what soundtrack it was presenting to its companions.