Cosmic Storm

by Dom Testa

  There was quiet around the table as the Council absorbed this. Finally Lita looked at Gap and said, “And the strange flash of light. Is that part of this somehow?”

  “That,” Gap said, “is yet another mystery. Like we don’t have enough already, right? But since there is practically nothing to go on—no residue, no trace of any kind—we don’t have much to investigate. It happened, and Roc says it contained strange particles mixed in with the light’s photons. If you’re asking if it could be somehow connected to the wormholes … I have no idea.”

  Channy looked worried. “So many unknowns. What do we do?”

  Gap laced his fingers together on the table. If he was elected Council Leader, that would be a question he’d need to get used to.

  “As far as the shields are concerned, the first step is identifying the problem,” he said. “We can’t come up with a solution until we know what’s causing the failures in the first place. Since we’re almost positive that it’s external, we can focus on that.

  “Next we pour every piece of data we can find into the mix and see if there’s a pattern. Then we isolate where it’s coming from and build a defense system to overcome it.”

  “You make it sound easy,” Channy said.

  “It’s not going to be easy,” Gap said. “But tell me one thing that has been easy on this mission so far.”

  This was greeted with grim nods.

  “And one last thing,” Gap added. “The cumulative damage from the failures is mounting. Now that it’s happened four times, Roc has run some fairly precise calculations. I’ll let him break that good news to you.”

  “Why do I have to be the bad guy?” the computer said. “All right, to be blunt, whatever is knocking the shields offline is also shaving away their effectiveness. Meaning that with each blow we lose some of our ability to block the radiation. And it’s exponential. So, given that cheery bit of information, I can tell you that if the failures continue to occur at this rate, we have about five weeks before we’ll be lying on the surface of the sun. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  A deathly silence fell over the room for a few moments before Roc added, “But don’t worry, you won’t get sunburned, because all of your skin will have rotted away a good day or two before that.”

  Channy put her hands against the sides of her head and groaned. “Gap, why don’t you break the news next time?”

  Lita squinted, deep in thought. “So we not only have to figure this problem out, we’ve got to do it fast. Figure out what’s causing it, and what to do about it.”

  “Correct,” Gap said. “The team in Engineering is working overtime, and I’m confident that we’ll find a solution long before it turns critical.”

  Channy and Lita nodded slowly; Bon merely stared down the table at Gap.

  When there were no further questions about the radiation problem, they spent a few minutes revisiting the procedures which would govern the election of a new Council Leader. Gap felt a little awkward overseeing this discussion, but did his best to shepherd the meeting through the details. There would be two forums held where the candidates could address the ship’s priorities, as well as their own personal qualifications. Questions would follow from the crew.

  “Okay,” Gap said. “Let’s plan on the first forum tomorrow evening, then we’ll plug in the final one for Friday evening. The election itself will take place Saturday. Any questions or comments?”

  There were none. That meant it was time for him to address the issue which he dreaded the most.

  “The last item I want to talk about has to do with the Cassini. In particular, I think it’s important for the Council to be fully in the loop about our contact with them.”

  He sat back and did his best to adopt a relaxed look. He was careful to maintain balanced eye contact with the other three Council members, including Bon. The last thing he wanted was for Bon to think he was intimidated.

  “As you know, our only link to the Cassini has been through a connection that none of us really understand. Somehow Bon’s brain waves are suited for him to communicate with them, and we’ve been able to use that connection to help us through a tough stretch. Since we don’t really know how the link works, I think Lita would agree that we’re also not sure what effects it might be having on Bon, both short-term and long-term.”

  Lita merely nodded, but it was evident that she was confused as to why they were having this discussion now. Bon sat still, his icy stare never wavering. Gap plowed on.

  “Triana was concerned about the danger this connection might have, and so she held on to the translator. In a way, she acted like a guardian. As you know, she would bring it to Bon for the link, and she stayed right by his side to make sure everything turned out okay. Then, she took the translator back to her room.”

  “I’m sorry,” Channy said, “I’m not trying to be difficult, but what does this have to do with anything right now?”

  Gap stole another glance at the end of the table, and his eyes locked up with Bon’s. For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of anger, but if so, it passed quickly, and Bon was once again stone-faced.

  “I bring this up,” Gap said, turning to Channy, “because before she left on that pod, Triana left the translator with Bon.”

  Both Channy and Lita turned to look at Bon, who responded by slowly lifting his cup of water for a drink, never taking his eyes off Gap.

  “But you haven’t used it, I hope?” Lita said. “At least not by yourself.”

  “I have,” Bon said.

  Lita’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, Bon. What are you doing?” When he didn’t answer, she added, “How many times have you made contact?”

  He finally turned his gaze towards Lita. “That’s not important. There’s no problem, so you shouldn’t be concerned.”

  “Shouldn’t be concerned? Your health is my responsibility on this ship, Bon. If Triana was convinced that you should never make that connection alone, what makes you think it’s okay now?”

  Channy broke in before he could answer. “And why did Triana leave that thing with you in the first place? What did she tell you?”

  “She didn’t tell me anything. She left it on my desk.”

  “Well, I think you need to turn it in to the Council,” Channy said.

  Lita looked puzzled. “Wait a minute. We’re out of the Kuiper Belt; why would you connect with the Cassini now?”

  Bon shifted his gaze from Lita to Gap, then back again. “Personal reasons.”

  Lita shook her head. “I don’t believe this.” She said to Gap, “He can’t keep this thing. It’s pretty clear that his judgment is already screwed up.”

  “I agree,” Gap said. “That’s why I brought it to the attention of the Council. Bon, I think it’s obvious how we feel about this. Are you going to make us go through the motions of a formal vote, or will you just hand over the translator?”

  Bon took another drink of water. When he spoke, his voice was low but firm. “As of this meeting, Triana is still officially the Council Leader. And, since she chose to give me the responsibility, I will keep the translator until a new Council Leader is elected in her place. Then, at that time, we will see what the new Leader has to say.”

  It was a double shot, and Gap knew it; Bon was not only defying his position as the interim Council Leader, he was calling into question whether Gap would even have the position after the Saturday election. And while he burned inside to fire back, he reached deep inside and summoned every ounce of poise that he could find. In the end, he smiled at Bon.

  “I believe that if we were to consult the fine print of our bylaws, Bon, you’d be wrong. But I’m willing to let it go until Saturday.”

  Lita let out an exasperated sound. “No! This is not some petty power struggle we’re talking about. This is a matter of the safety and well-being of a crew member.”

  Gap nodded once. “That’s right. And if it involved the safety of others, I would feel differently. If Bon wanted to Airboard without a he
lmet I would think he was foolish, but I wouldn’t stop him unless he was a menace to others.”

  “This is not the same thing,” Lita said. “How can you compare the two?”

  Gap slowly sipped his own drink of water, then studied the cup in his hand. “Triana had to know that Bon was going to use the translator. If she didn’t have a problem with it, then I can let it slide for a few more days.”

  Channy held her hands out, palms up. “But we don’t know what the Cassini will do! What if something goes wrong? It already has once.”

  There was silence for a minute. It was obvious to Gap that Bon wasn’t going to utter another word; he had won again, for the second day in a row, and he knew it.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me know if you connect again,” Lita said to Bon. “You’re just hardheaded enough to think you don’t need any help.”

  He only stared back at her, prompting another exasperated sigh from Galahad’s Health Director. She stood up and pushed back from the table. “I want to go on record as being strongly opposed to this.”

  “Noted,” Gap said. Lita turned and walked out of the room.

  Channy sat with a stunned look on her face. “Well … I’m opposed to it as well,” she said.

  Gap smiled at her. “Noted as well. Thank you, Channy.” He looked back at Bon. “This meeting is over. Everyone stay in touch with me, because if things turn sour with the radiation shield I want to be able to meet immediately if necessary.” He stood and followed Lita’s path out the door.

  Channy, left alone with Bon, refused to make eye contact with him. “You say it’s personal, your business with the Cassini. Well, I wish you’d found some personal feelings before this. It’s a little late now, if you ask me.”

  She rose and quickly walked out. For the next few minutes Bon sat by himself in the Conference Room, sipping his water.

  Thinking.

  12

  He usually played Masego against Roc in the Rec Room, but tonight Gap chose to stay in his room. It had been a brutally long day: his run-in with Bon in the Council meeting; another violent confrontation between crew members, one that could potentially mean the loss of food inventory; not to mention endless tests of the radiation shield in the Engineering Section. He was exhausted physically and mentally, and the idea of a large crowd bubbling around him did not sound appealing. His roommate, Daniil, had picked up on Gap’s weariness and politely excused himself to meet up with friends.

  Faint sounds of rainfall escaped from the room’s speakers. Gap’s family had relocated from China to America’s northwest corner, so he found the sound comforting. It was a frequent soundtrack choice when he was alone.

  The vidscreen displayed the Masego board, but Gap’s attention wandered. In twenty-four hours he would address the crew again, only this time it would be an audition. He was torn between knuckling down and preparing for the meeting, or unplugging his whirling mind and finding a distraction. He’d hoped that another fruitless contest against Roc, with a healthy dose of the computer’s sarcastic observations, would take his mind off everything that had piled up in the last week.

  It didn’t.

  Slumped in his chair, he tapped at the folded sheet of paper on the desk, flicking it back and forth. A battle raged within him, one side telling him to read the note again, another urging him to lock it away, or even to destroy it. Another tap sent the note spinning.

  “Are you going to make a move?” the computer said.

  “Just a minute,” Gap said. He eyed the paper, prepared to stow it away in a drawer. But instead he watched his hand snake out and grasp the folded page. In a moment it was open, and he once again scanned Triana’s handwriting.

  Gap, I know that my decision will likely anger you and the other Council members, but in my opinion there was no time for debate, especially one that would more than likely end in a stalemate.

  There are too many unknowns for us to make the important decisions we face. The wormholes, the vultures, and, most importantly, the beings that are behind both of these. We have to know what we’re dealing with.

  I don’t want to risk taking the ship through a wormhole until we know more about them, and yet I don’t want to wait to find out what might come through from the other side.

  I’m going through.

  I understand the pressure this will put on the Council, and you especially, and for that I’m sorry. But I hope that at some point, when you’re able to step back and look at it from a perspective of time, you’ll understand why I did this. As you take on more leadership responsibilities I think it will become much more clear.

  As for the other issues that you must deal with, all I can offer is the advice I received from Dr. Zimmer: “Do what is right. Your heart may fight you at times, but you always know what is right.”

  Good luck. Until I see you again … Tree

  Gap read the last few lines twice. Triana—and Dr. Zimmer—were right: his heart seemed to fight him, even when he knew what was right. It was so hard.

  Before he folded the paper again, he looked at her final words and wondered if he would indeed see her again. For now, he—

  “Is this a new tactic?” Roc said, shaking him from his trance. “Stalling? Do you think all of the other duties that I’m working on simultaneously will distract me enough so that you can finally win?”

  “Sorry, Roc, I’m just not into Masego tonight. Can’t shut off my monkey mind.”

  “I could play with half my circuits tied behind my motherboard.”

  “And you’d still whip me. Not before letting me think I had a chance, of course, just to keep me interested.”

  The computer manufactured an exaggerated sigh. “What’s the matter, Bunky? Feeling a bit overwhelmed? Do you need a hug? It would have to be virtual, of course, but you know if I had arms I would, right?”

  “No, I’m … Well, yes, all right, I’ll be honest. I’m feeling a touch overwhelmed right now,” Gap said. He casually slipped the folded note back into a desk drawer.

  “That’s not surprising,” Roc said. “I’ve read a few million articles about this emotion in humans, and the consensus from the experts is that you should quit trying to scale the whole mountain and just concentrate on a single step. Sounds reasonable, and yet impossible.”

  Gap laughed. “Agreed! Sometimes I have a hard time seeing the next step because it seems like the whole mountain is about to collapse on me. What do the experts have to say about that?”

  “Well,” Roc said, “why don’t we humor them and try their technique for a moment? What is one item in your overwhelming stack?”

  “Ugh, where to begin? Okay, the radiation shield. If we don’t figure that out pronto it’s lights out.”

  “And you have about a dozen people hard at work on that right now,” Roc said. “Not to mention the services of my brilliant self. Trust that it will be resolved.”

  Gap slid off the chair and sprawled across the floor into a position that he found the most relaxing. He laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Right. Then there’s the latest headache with Bon. I can’t figure that guy out; sometimes he’s this close to actually being civil, then he throws on the brakes and goes back to being … Oh, what’s a good word? Insufferable. Yeah, that’s it. My mom used that word a lot, and I think it applies to Bon. He can be insufferable.”

  “He said that he would defer to the Council Leader’s wishes, however,” Roc said. “Surely you don’t think he’ll cause any damage before the end of the week, do you?”

  Gap thought about this for a moment before answering. “Well, probably not. But this whole Cassini thing is such a wild card. We have no idea what we’re really messing with, you know? Bon said that it’s personal, so I don’t see how that could hurt the ship. At the same time, though, if he damages himself then we lose the one person who’s able to speak with the Cassini. Lita’s worried about brain damage, and I agree with her.”

  “Then let’s assume for the time being
that the ship will survive Bon’s connection, at least through this weekend,” Roc said. “What else?”

  “The election.”

  “Yes, what about it?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what about it’? It’s kind of a big deal, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, it’s a big deal,” Roc said. “But worrying about it is pointless. Prepare, do your best, accept what happens.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Do you have any idea what kind of work went into programming me so that I can actually speak? Nothing is easy for me to say. I’m a phenomenon, a true miracle of science.”

  Gap moved his hands from behind his head and covered his eyes with one arm. Talking with Roc was always an exercise in patience, but he had to admit that the repartee made him feel better.

  His mind whirled through the other items in his stack, and, as it had for the past couple of days, arrived at the same place: Hannah. Could he talk to Roc about that?

  “Let me ask you something,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by the arm across his face. “When we have talks like this, are you bound by some sort of confidentiality agreement? You know, like back home, with psychiatrists and priests? Does this conversation stay here, or will I hear it replayed inside the Dining Hall during lunch someday?”

  “Yes, you can talk to me about Hannah and it will remain private between us.”

  Gap slowly pulled his arm away and sat up on his elbows. “You scare me sometimes.”

  “You’re not as tough to read as you think, Gap. What, did you think we’d have to be hush-hush about a discussion on ion drive power modification? I got news for you, pal, the whole crew is fairly amused that the election of a new Council Leader comes down to two people who were all kissy-face just a few weeks ago.”

  Lying back again, Gap’s gaze returned to the ceiling. “I know, I know. What did they use to call those daytime television shows a long time ago?”