The Dark Zone

by Dom Testa

  “I have behaved so poorly the last couple of weeks,” Channy said. “There’s no excuse for it. I’m embarrassed and ashamed. I let personal issues overshadow everything, and let them consume me. You expect me to be a strong and active member of the Council, and I let you down. I’m very sorry, and it won’t happen again. If you feel like you need to replace me on the Council, I’ll understand. I hope you don’t, because I’d really like another chance. But if you must, I understand.”

  Triana sat staring up at her. It was exactly what Channy needed to say, and she was glad to see the young Brit taking responsibility for her actions. She decided to put Channy at ease immediately. “I accept your apology. And no, of course we won’t replace you on the Council.” She offered a small smile. “It takes a lot of courage to admit your mistakes and ask for forgiveness. I think I speak for everyone on the Council when I say we look forward to having the real Channy back on the team.”

  A look of relief washed across Channy’s face. “Thank you, Tree.” She looked at Lita and said, “You were so right about the endless loop I got caught up in. It was a runaway train, really. I’m sorry for the way I talked to you. I don’t deserve to have a friend like you.”

  Lita reached out and hugged her. “Yes, you do, Channy. We all go a little crazy from time to time. This was just your turn.”

  Channy hugged her back. “And I feel even worse with what’s happened to … to Alexa.”

  “It’s okay,” Lita said softly. “As long as we’re all here for each other now, that’s what matters.”

  Channy pulled away. “I think, if anything, this has taught me a very valuable lesson about perspective.”

  Triana stood up. “If it’s any consequence, I feel the same way. We tend to obsess over minor issues and let them take over our thoughts, and lose sight of the big picture. We’re all guilty of that, too.”

  She gave Channy a quick hug. “Welcome back,” she said, her eyes glistening.

  Channy never got a chance to respond. The three girls were suddenly knocked to the floor as the ship heaved and the lights went out. They tumbled into a heap, with Lita on the bottom. She cried out in pain. Triana tried to break her fall with her hands, but was unable to prevent her head from impacting against the frame of Lita’s bed. She felt a sharp jolt, and knew instantly that she was bleeding along her forehead. Channy at first fell onto Lita, but her momentum carried her off to the side.

  It was over as quickly as it started. Lita sat up, grimacing and holding her left wrist. With a flicker, the lights came back on, faded briefly, then came back to full power. She glanced at Channy, who appeared to be okay. Then she saw the blood on Triana, and used her good hand to get to her feet.

  “Hold on,” she said to the Council Leader, and hurried to the sink. She ran a small towel under the water, then brought it back and pressed it against Triana’s wound. “Here, keep some pressure on this. It doesn’t look too bad, but it’s a head wound, so it’s gonna bleed a bit.” She looked back at Channy. “You okay?”

  “I think so. What happened?”

  Triana and Lita exchanged a knowing look. “That could only be one thing,” Triana said.

  24

  Portals, tunnels, windows, wormholes. No matter what you call them, they represent something that might be somewhat frightening to your species, but they also fascinate you because of what they really are: shortcuts.

  Humans love a good shortcut, and not just the ones through the woods. Kids in the backseat always ask “Are we there yet?” because the journey is tedious to them and the destination is the magical promised land. People with personal troubles always look for the simplest solution, even if it’s not the wisest, because they just want to be done with it. Fast-food restaurants cater to those who are looking for the shortcut to lunch or dinner or indigestion.

  I’m not so sure what to think about the vultures’ choice of shortcut. On one hand I’m just like you: I want to know more about it. On the other hand …

  * * *

  Gap sat against the wall inside the lift, rubbing his left shoulder. Despite the fact that he consciously protected it from any rough contact, he had had no time to think when the latest jolt struck Galahad. On his way down to Engineering, he had been tossed violently against the wall, slamming into it shoulder-first, before spilling to the floor. He flexed his arm, grateful that everything seemed to be okay.

  Except the lift. It wasn’t moving, and the primary lights had gone out, leaving Gap barely illuminated by the glow of emergency lighting.

  “Hey, Roc,” he called out. “I need a little help here.”

  “Working on it,” the computer said. “Stand by.”

  No sarcastic response, Gap noted. Even Roc understood that the mood of the ship would be drastically different for a while, as the crew dealt with Alexa’s death. He stretched his arm one more time, then climbed to his feet and studied the lift’s control panel by the dim light. Lines of code flashed across the small vidscreen, blinked off, then repeated. The system was in restart mode.

  “Let me guess,” Gap said. “Our friends are back already through another wormhole.”

  “Wrong and right,” Roc said. “We do indeed have another wormhole, but there’s no sign of the vultures, or anything else for that matter.”

  The lights burst back on, temporarily blinding Gap. He rubbed his eyes, then tried to focus on the vidscreen. It, too, had resumed its normal look.

  “I’m guessing that you’ll want to head back up to the Control Room,” Roc said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Gap said as the lift began to move again. “Feed all of the damage reports to my workstation there, please.”

  By the time he reached the Control Room, Roc had informed him that Triana was on the way. Gap stood over the vidscreen at his workstation and accessed the reports. The ship’s ion drive engines had been shaken, but were still operating smoothly. All of the lifts had been temporarily frozen, but only one remained out of commission at the moment; Roc insisted it would be functioning again within minutes.

  There were some problems at the Farms. Water recycling pumps had shut down, irrigation units had also misfired, and the artificial sunlight was only at about half power. Gap knew that Bon would be on it immediately, and waited to hear from him.

  The thought of Bon made Gap reach back and lower himself into a chair. An hour earlier the tough Swede had barreled out of Sick House, his face wet with tears. It was a sight that Gap never thought he would see. Bon and Alexa had obviously shared a connection of some sort, and it was common knowledge that they had spent quite a bit of time together. Gap didn’t know where Bon had gone, but it was a safe bet that he’d withdrawn to his sanctuary in the domes. And, if that was the case, he was likely already at work on the problems.

  In that respect, Gap realized that minor breakdowns might be the best thing that could have happened to the ship. The crew, especially Lita and Bon, could use not only the distractions, but a reminder that they were still at risk. Gap was sure that Bon would want to throw himself into his work even more than usual.

  Should he reach out to Bon right now? This was all such new terrain for them. Gap had never experienced the death of someone close to him, nor had his friends, so he was unsure of how to react. On one hand he wanted to give Bon space to grieve … but he didn’t want to be insensitive, either.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Triana arrived. She walked briskly up to Gap, and he instantly noted the bandage on her forehead. She also had smears of blood on her hands and her clothes, yet she gave him no time to ask about it.

  “What’s the damage?” she said. He filled her in with the information he had so far.

  She nodded, and looked up at the large vidscreen. “Roc, it’s another wormhole, right?”

  “Correct,” came the reply. “It’s up ahead, not exactly in our path, but close enough. However, nothing has come through. Well, so far.”

  Triana bit her lip. “It’s just an open door.”

  Gap looked
from the vidscreen to Triana. “Open … to where?”

  She shrugged. “That’s a great question.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Roc added. “It might not simply be a question of ‘to where,’ but also ‘to when.’ Remember, this particular doorway has caused a ripple effect in both space and time. Anything flying out of it could have come from any part of our galaxy, or universe for that matter, and from another time.”

  “Past or future?” Gap said.

  “Either. Both. Who knows for sure?” Roc said. “Regardless, we have now officially seen what the power of dark energy can do when harnessed to its full potential.”

  Gap leaned forward in his chair. “And to think the vultures are part of an advanced civilization that can do these things, yet they crumble at a whiff of oxygen.”

  “That’s not so surprising,” Triana said. “We used to think that we were pretty impressive, powerful creatures, but a microscopic virus can kill us in minutes. The mightiest forests can be devastated by one tiny match. It seems that everything has an Achilles’ heel.”

  She turned and looked back at the vidscreen, peering through the background of stars. “What I find most curious,” she said, “is that nothing popped out of this wormhole. Why bother opening it if you’re not going to use it?”

  “I’ve had a few minutes to consider that,” Roc said, “and you might not like the answer I’ve come up with.”

  Triana frowned. “No, I’m sure that I won’t. But tell me anyway.”

  “It’s pretty simple, actually. Doors not only let things out, they let things in.”

  Triana and Gap sat in silence for a moment, digesting this. Gap could see the other crew members in the room suddenly look up at the vidscreen and then at each other, and it was clear that everyone was thinking the same thing.

  Finally, Triana said: “It’s an invitation. An invitation for us to step inside and visit their world this time.”

  * * *

  It took a few seconds for Lita to realize that someone had spoken to her. She sat at her desk in Sick House, her head resting on one hand, filtering through the four-page document on her vidscreen. When it finally dawned on her, she looked up to see Jada, one of her assistants, patiently waiting.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Lita said. “I was … concentrating on…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The document open before her was Galahad Control’s instructions for preparation and disposal of a body. She found that no matter how many times her eye scanned the pages, she was not absorbing the information, as if it were printed in a language unfamiliar to her. It was her brain’s way of denying the truth, putting off the inevitable. Scattered words would sink in before the rest blurred.

  She knew that the first two pages involved the procedures for securing, treating, and wrapping the body. This was under way in the lab, a task that Lita had turned over to Jada and two other crew members. She understood that technically it was her job to oversee their work, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when it was one of her best friends. “Next time,” she told herself. Besides, she rationalized, there were other details to attend to, including the funeral and disposal.

  Even those words on the vidscreen were blurred.

  “Um…” Jada said, obviously uncomfortable that she had to talk about this with Lita. “We’re finished. I didn’t know if you wanted to … um, see her, before we move her to … um, the Spider bay.”

  Lita felt a wave of emotion rising in her, felt the tears threatening, but she fought them back. “Gotta keep it together,” she thought.

  “Uh, no,” she said to Jada. “I need to finish this quickly, and then I’m due for an emergency Council meeting. If I need to, I’ll go over everything down at the Spider bay. I know you guys did a good job. Thank you.”

  Jada nodded once. “Okay.” She began to turn away.

  “Wait,” Lita said. “Listen, I really do want you to know how much I appreciate it. That was probably the toughest job any of us has had to do on this mission; it couldn’t have been easy for you. I’m … I’m sorry you had to do it, but thank you again.”

  “Um … you’re welcome,” Jada said. It looked as if she wanted to add something, but couldn’t settle on the right words. She offered Lita a sympathetic smile, then walked into the lab.

  Lita looked back at the vidscreen, then snapped it off. “Later,” she told herself. Climbing out of her chair, she left Sick House and made her way to the Conference Room.

  She was not surprised to find Channy already there, waiting, obviously eager to resume her duties with the Council. It wasn’t long before Triana and Gap walked in together. Lita pulled a chair up beside Triana and, extracting a few items from her work bag, began to clean up the small head wound and apply a fresh bandage to it. Triana grimaced a few times, but offered thanks when Lita finished.

  A minute later Bon entered the room. Lita searched his face, wondering how he was holding up. Although his face betrayed nothing, she was sure that Alexa’s death was tearing him up inside. When he sat down, she leaned over and gave his hand a squeeze. He returned the gesture, but barely made eye contact with her—or with anyone else.

  Triana rushed into their agenda. “There are two things we need to cover. I find it hard to believe, but one involves a service for Alexa.” She paused, and although her voice sounded steady, Lita felt certain that it was a pause to regain composure. “There is a certain … protocol that Galahad Control has supplied, but it mostly covers the technical responsibilities. I think it’s understood that we will…” Here her voice did break a bit, but she quickly recovered. “We will be sure to honor Alexa properly. We owe it to her, and we owe it to the rest of the crew. Lita will forward the details to everyone.”

  “When will it be?” Channy said quietly.

  “First thing in the morning,” Triana said. She looked at Lita. “Your department is ready, correct?”

  Lita nodded and fought back her own tears. “Yes,” was all she could manage to say.

  “As the Council Leader, I’ll say a few words,” Triana said. “But anyone who would like to speak at the ceremony is welcome.”

  Channy and Lita gave quick nods; Bon remained still.

  “But there’s another matter that we need to talk about right away,” Triana said. “When I sent you the note about this meeting I included a brief summary of the new wormhole that has developed. There’s nothing new to add right now; it’s there, and it appears to be waiting for us to make some sort of move. Given its location, and the fact that nothing has emerged, I think it’s safe to assume that Roc is correct: it’s an invitation for us to plunge inside.”

  “Which we can’t possibly do,” Gap said. “You’re not seriously considering that, are you?”

  “No, I’m not,” Triana said. “Our mission and our destination are clear. But let’s consider a couple of things.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “If we simply sail past without doing anything, I would almost guarantee that another wormhole will open up farther down the path. And this time I would guess that something would come out of it.”

  “So…” Channy said. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that there is no way I want to take the ship in there, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t explore it.”

  There were puzzled looks around the table, with the exception of Bon, who stared blankly at Triana. “And how do we do that?” Lita said. “We can’t afford to send another Spider. We’re already down to seven usable ones. Besides, there wouldn’t be time to program one to act independently.”

  There was silence for a moment before Bon spoke for the first time. “She’s not talking about programming a drone to investigate. She’s talking about sending someone into the wormhole.”

  Lita gasped, and turned to the Council Leader. “Tree,” she said. “That could very likely be a suicide mission. We can’t send someone to do that.”

  Triana said, “I’ve already thought about that, and I don’t think s
o. As far as I’m concerned, any race of beings that can create the vultures, and also control space-time like they seem to, could likely take us out by barely lifting a finger. The fact that they’re issuing this invitation has to mean that they’re basically nonaggressive, and only want to communicate.”

  “Nonaggressive?” Channy blurted out. “They killed Alexa!”

  Triana sighed. “This is hard for me to say, because I feel very responsible for what happened. But … the vulture in Sick House had no way of knowing that we were going to release it, which now I believe we should have done in the first place. Instead, it only knew that its companions were being attacked, and it reacted. A case could probably be made that it acted in self-defense.”

  Lita’s face clouded over. “I have to agree. It was calm until we began to sweep the others off the ship. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea to send someone into that hole. We don’t even know if a person could survive the trip.”

  “If you’re looking for volunteers, I’ll go,” Gap said. “They’ve studied us as much as we’ve studied them; they would know if we couldn’t survive it. I want to know what they’re all about.”

  “You’ve already risked your life more than once,” Triana said.

  “That shouldn’t matter. You could also argue that I have more experience than anyone else.”

  Triana sat back. “I’ll think about it. One way or another, I’m convinced that we need to do it.” She looked around the table. “Any other thoughts or comments?”

  “I’m against it,” Lita said. “We’re about to bury one crew member; I don’t want to bury another so quickly.”

  “I say go,” Gap said. “This might be a fantastic opportunity for us to learn about so much. It’s part of why we’re on this mission.”

  “I’m with Lita,” Channy said. “I say we fly past it and keep on going.”

  Triana looked down the length of the table at Bon. “You have the deciding vote,” she said.