The Dark Zone

by Dom Testa

  He returned her stare, but didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was firm. “We didn’t run from the fight when they attached themselves to the ship, and we said that we would be aggressive. It cost us.”

  He looked down at the table before him, and Lita began to feel relief that he had agreed with her. But then he added, “It cost us, but we can’t ignore this and think that it will just go away. Someone has to go.”

  Lita covered her face with one hand. “This makes no sense to me.”

  “The vote has been taken,” Gap said. “How much time do we have to launch?”

  “Roc?” Triana said.

  The computer chimed in. “We’ll have roughly until six o’clock tomorrow evening to launch one of the Spiders. After that, we’ll be too far past to rendezvous.”

  “Okay,” Triana said. “I’ll make a decision by noon regarding who goes. Let me sleep on things tonight.” She looked around the table. “Tomorrow will be the most emotionally draining day of the entire mission so far. I don’t think the full impact of Alexa’s death has really even hit us yet, but it certainly will in the morning. And yet, as Council members it will be important that we’re strong for the rest of the crew.

  “If anyone needs to talk tonight, I’ll be in my room.”

  25

  The silence lay heavy over the assembled crew, a blanket of sadness and grief that Triana was sure she could physically detect. More than two hundred of her fellow star travelers were gathered in the Spider bay, yet other than scattered sobs, there was no sound. No talking, no whispering. Galahad’s entire crew, with the exception of those required to run essential tasks, stood silently, most with hands clasped behind their backs, many with heads bowed.

  Those who kept their heads up were focused on the table near one of the bay doors, and the shroud-covered body that rested upon it. An occasional cry would slip out from someone, which seemed to prompt similar responses from others, and then the silence would drop again.

  Triana stood with Gap, Lita, and Channy next to the podium, which normally was used in the School, but had been brought in and set up on risers, affording everyone a chance to see and hear the service. Triana knew that the entire crew, including those on duty but watching on vidscreens across the ship, would note the one Council member not present. She had called up to the domes and spoken briefly with Bon an hour earlier.

  “No, I won’t be there,” he had said in response to her question. “Attendance is not mandatory, is that right?”

  “Well … no,” she had replied. “If you’d rather not be there, that’s your decision. I know … I know that you were close to Alexa in ways that the rest of us probably couldn’t understand, so I’m sure that many people will be surprised. But I understand that everyone handles grief in their own way. I respect whatever decision you’ve made.”

  “I appreciate that,” Bon said. “I feel like I’ve said my good-byes to Alexa, and when the time comes for the funeral, I will honor her memory here in the domes. There’s a special…” Over the intercom, his voice dropped away; Triana waited quietly, allowing him time to recover.

  “There is … a special place here in Dome 1, a quiet spot. I’ll be there. Alexa would understand.”

  Now, climbing the stairs of the riser and standing before the assembled crew on the lowest level of the ship, Triana imagined Bon at the highest point, staring up through the panels of the dome out toward the stars.

  She pushed the vision out of her mind and walked to the podium, where her workpad contained the notes that she had written for the service. She took a moment to steady herself before addressing the crew.

  “Almost one year ago, we left our homes and our families to embark on the greatest voyage our people have ever attempted. Through the tears of separation, and the grief of knowing that we would never see our loved ones again, we came together as a new family. We used our common purpose, our most crucial task, to bind us together and help us overcome the pain we felt at leaving them behind.

  “I think Lita put it beautifully in the song that she wrote for all of us: We’re reaching for the starlight, but looking back with love.”

  She looked out across the room. “This morning, as we face the most devastating time of our journey, I would encourage you to embrace those words again. Alexa Wellington embodied everything that Galahad truly represents: determination, spirit, and courage. And yet she brought so much more to us. She brought a sense of fun, a feeling of camaraderie that we sometimes neglect, and a reminder that although the mission is difficult and dangerous, it’s still a magnificent adventure. We have been blessed with the responsibility of continuing the march of humankind, and Alexa stood out as one of the best representatives we could ever hope for. She touched everyone, and that touch will never be forgotten.”

  Several crew members broke down in tears, and Triana allowed them a few moments to collect themselves before she went on. “There’s not much more that I need to say, because each of you has your own memories of Alexa, and you knew her well enough to realize what she would want from you. She would want you to move on quickly and embrace the future, rather than dwell on the past.”

  Triana stepped back from the podium. She nodded to Lita, who walked up the steps and unfolded a small piece of paper. Her voice was stronger than Triana thought it would be.

  “Alexa once told me that during times of trouble she would go to her Zen place. The first time she told me this, I thought she was probably joking. We all know how much Alexa loved to laugh, and to make others laugh. But she was serious about this. All of us have teachers in our lives, whether they are teachers in school, or people who open our eyes to things that we otherwise would never have considered. Well, Alexa taught me the importance of finding peace, how to build shelter against the storm.

  “It’s not always easy. There are times when the storm rages so violently that we bow and cringe before it, and forget to create that shelter. There are times when we believe we’re drowning in fear, or sadness, or grief, and we struggle, we flail our arms, we kick, we cry out. We forget that the drowning man would be better served by lying still and peacefully floating.”

  Lita cleared her throat, and Triana knew that her friend had summoned the courage and strength she talked about. She looked out at the assembled crew and saw that they were intently focused on what Lita was saying.

  “Alexa and I worked closely together for more than two years. I have never met anyone with a heart more pure, or who loved life the way she did. We each have certain people in our lives who lift our spirits simply by walking into the room, and Alexa was one of those people. Everything you’d ever need to know about her could be seen during the most frightening point in her life. Facing surgery, here on Galahad just two months ago, she could have been a wreck, she could have broken down. Instead, it was Alexa who gave me strength; she comforted me when she knew I would have to operate on her. During her darkest hour, her thoughts were on how to support me. I will never, ever forget that.

  “So now, we face a storm of pain and sorrow, and once again Alexa’s voice can be heard over the wind: Be strong, be at peace, find…” Here, Lita’s voice showed the first sign of cracking. She cleared her throat again and continued. “Find the place of calm within you.”

  There was silence for a moment. Lita looked at Triana, who nodded encouragement.

  “I wrote something last night that I would like to sing in Alexa’s honor,” Lita said. “I thought about the way she taught me, and taught many of us, to be strong in the face of the storm, and the words just seemed to come naturally.” She offered a nervous smile. “I’ll do my best to get through it, so bear with me. It’s called ‘Push the Storm Away.’”

  Lita walked to the edge of the riser where a keyboard had been set up. She took a seat and closed her eyes for a long time. Then, she began to play, and the soft melody filled the room. When she sang, her voice again was strong and steady.

  Seems the grayest morning,

  Can neve
r stay for long;

  The darkness with its heavy hand

  Will fade, and soon be gone.

  The magic of your simple smile,

  Can keep the clouds at bay;

  And then the power of your love

  Will push the storm away.

  Seems a heavy feeling

  Has fought to take control;

  It lingers, how it threatens me

  And challenges my soul.

  I look at you, and realize

  That rain won’t spoil the day;

  Because the power of your love

  Can push the storm away.

  Sleep tonight, sleep and find release

  Dream tonight, daylight brings you peace.

  Seems that now I’ve lost you

  And find myself alone;

  The darkness rushes back at me

  In ways I’ve never known.

  But then I feel your inner light

  And sunlight finds a way

  Your never-ending power of love

  Will push the storm away.

  I never truly walk alone,

  Or fear what comes my way;

  Because I know the power of love

  Will push the storm away.

  The last note of the song hung in the air. Lita pulled her hands from the keys and let out a long breath. She turned to face the crowd; a smile had returned to her face, stained by tears. The other Council members came to her side, and she stood to embrace them. Then together they descended the steps and made their way to the table that held Alexa’s body and took up positions on each side. Soft music drifted down from the room’s speakers as the rest of the crew began to file past.

  All of them paused a moment beside the table, many with their heads bowed; some reached out and laid a hand on the shrouded figure, others murmured a quiet prayer. Then, moving past, they turned to leave the room, with most offering thanks to Triana and Lita for their words, and for the song.

  Triana watched their faces, aware that Galahad’s first death would likely change the crew in profound ways. It was now official: their innocence was gone.

  More than half an hour passed. Triana was not surprised to see that the last person in line to pay her respects was Alexa’s roommate, Katarina. She held what resembled flowers; Triana felt another wave of sorrow when she recognized them as colorful blooms that had been collected from the plant life inside the domes.

  “Bon asked me to bring these,” Katarina said through tears. “He said…” She swallowed hard, but couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

  Channy broke down and leaned against Gap for support. He crooked an arm around her shoulder and closed his eyes. Lita walked over and hugged Katarina. “It’s okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Together they placed the bouquet atop the body. Channy sobbed uncontrollably, Gap blinked back tears of his own. A minute later Triana stepped up beside the table and whispered, “Rest in peace, Alexa.”

  She turned to the others. “It’s time.”

  The five Galahad crew members walked slowly away and sealed themselves inside the Spider bay control room. Triana looked out through the glass at the lonely shrouded figure. “Okay, Roc. I think we’re ready.”

  Without a word, the ship’s computer began the procedure. The door adjacent to Alexa spread open, and starlight poured through. The icy vacuum of space filled the room. There was one command left to give.

  “Let her go,” Triana said.

  As all five crew members cried, a robotic arm beneath the table lifted Alexa’s body and pulled it toward the open door. In moments she was gone.

  A single bloom from the bouquet lay on the floor.

  26

  The posters on her wall once reminded her of home, of the outdoor adventures that she had shared with her dad. Now they seemed more like snapshots from movies that she had never seen, but had been told about. Likewise, her memories felt oddly disconnected, descriptions and details that through the prism of time had lost any personal sensation. It troubled her.

  Triana sat at the desk in her room, an hour after Alexa’s burial in space, and stared at the Colorado scenes around her bed. She had camped numerous times in Rocky Mountain National Park, hadn’t she? She had hiked, rafted, biked, sailed … hadn’t she? She had grown up with Mount Evans visible through one window of the house, and Pikes Peak through another, right?

  During one of her final group lectures, Dr. Armistead had warned the Galahad crew that this might very well happen to them. There were a few clinical terms for it, but she personally labeled it “separation resolution.” As she explained: “Your mind will eventually combat the grief by detaching itself emotionally from the past; your memories might very well drift from color to black and white, in an emotional sense.”

  That’s what’s happening to me, Triana thought. Separation resolution.

  Or, she wondered, am I detaching not because of the past … but because of what I’m deciding for my future? It must be easier to leave behind sterile, stock photos than it would be with sentimental possessions. Could it be premeditated separation resolution?

  Her journal lay open before her. She rubbed the soft leather cover, then flipped back a few pages and scanned some of the thoughts she had recorded. Emotions, decisions, questions, ideas, opinions … they leapt from the pages and reminded her that she was certainly no Ice Queen, as Channy had often branded her. No, there was indeed a fire that burned inside, melting any ice.

  She took up her pen.

  To think that this could very well be my final entry is frightening, yet in another sense empowering. I have always believed that written words carry their own form of energy; call it inspiration, call it motivation, call it a false sense of bravado. All I know is that expressing my intentions in writing helps me to trust my instincts.

  Two things have led me to decide that I’m the one who must travel through the wormhole. The first was the feeling I had while Gap and Mira risked their lives; I never could get past the feeling that as the leader of this mission, I should be the one taking those particular risks.

  The other is, of course, Alexa’s death. Even though she insisted that more study was necessary, ultimately it was my decision to keep the vulture in Sick House during that final EVA. That means that ultimately I am responsible for what happened to Alexa. If there is now a chance to confront the beings who are behind all of this, it falls to me to take that chance.

  There will be no Council meeting to discuss it; there will be no conference with Gap to break the news. There will be no message to the crew. Everyone on this ship has been trained to do many jobs, and that includes the Council’s ability to manage in times of crisis.

  The only “person” who can know about this is Roc.

  She bit her lip and contemplated adding another line, something that would bring closure … whatever that was. But this seemed more fitting.

  “Roc,” she said. “We need to talk.”

  * * *

  Channy walked into the Rec Room, her eyes still puffy and sore. She had cried more in the last two days than she had in years. She felt emotionally drained. And yet her mind now seemed clearer than it had in a long time.

  This time Taresh had beaten her to the meeting. He sat perched on the edge of a table, one leg swinging back and forth. They had the room to themselves for the moment.

  Channy wasted no time. She walked directly up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Then, pulling away, she returned his smile.

  “I won’t keep you,” she said. “I think we both have to get back to work. But I wanted to say a couple of things to you, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I’m so glad that you wanted to talk. I’ve felt horrible about our last meeting.”

  “And so have I,” she said. “I acted childishly, and I’m so very sorry about that.” She propped up against the table across from him. “All I can say is that I let my emotions get out of control. I care so much about you, Taresh, that I couldn’t stand the
thought of not being with you.

  “But forcing myself on you was foolish. You made a decision, and if I truly care about you, I’ll support your decision, regardless of the consequences for me.”

  Taresh looked genuinely surprised. “Channy … I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. This meeting is really for me to say what I need to say, and then walk away.” She smiled at him again. “I love you, Taresh. I would love to be with you, and to have you love me in return. You have things to work out right now, and it’s possible that you might change your mind and decide that I’m the one for you. If not, then at least I’ll be at peace knowing that I hid nothing from you. I opened my heart to you, and I’m proud of that.

  “If the day comes when you realize how rare and precious that is, I hope you’ll have the same courage to reach out.”

  She pushed off the table and faced him. “I said I would get back to you about that hug. Well, I would like one very much.”

  He grinned, then stood and wrapped his arms around her. She held him tight for a long time, her eyes closed, her heart racing. Then she placed another soft kiss on his cheek and stood back.

  “You’ll always have a home right here,” she said, tapping her chest. Without another word, she turned and left the room.

  * * *

  Lita tapped a stylus pen against her cheek. Sick House was often quiet at this time, so she suspected that the buzz of activity going on around her had been arranged for her benefit. The crew members who worked on this shift, particularly Jada, were kind and thoughtful, and they were doing their part to look after her. Apparently, in their minds, the prescription called for action and noise.

  She had put off one particular task that now was unavoidable. The remains of the vulture that had killed Alexa had been put back into the containment box and kept in frigid spacelike conditions. It fell to Lita to perform an alien autopsy, to answer whatever questions had not been answered through standard observation and testing. She dreaded it, but understood that it was her responsibility.