by Dom Testa
Adopting the most relaxed stance he could, he looked out over the faces. “Let me start by saying that I wish we weren’t here tonight. I think if we all had our way, Triana would still be our Council Leader, we’d be cruising along with no problems whatsoever, and Channy would give us all two days off each week without running us into the ground.”
There was a smattering of laughter, exactly the type of beginning that Gap was looking for.
“But the fact of the matter is that Triana is currently missing, and we have a problem with our radiation shield that is potentially dangerous. With everything that’s going on, it’s too bad that we also must deal with an election. So, while we know that change is inevitable … it doesn’t have to be extreme. Tonight I’ll show you that a slight adjustment in the Council would make the most sense during a topsy-turvy time. I’m confident that you’ll choose leadership experience during a crucial moment in our journey.”
Up until this point Gap had memorized what he was going to say. From here on out, however, it would be whatever felt right at the time. For the next few minutes he talked about the trials they’d weathered together, from the stowaway, to the critical encounter around Saturn, and the deadly minefield of the Kuiper Belt. Without directly referencing it, he alluded to the fiery confrontation that had divided the crew during their Kuiper crisis, hoping that it would bring back memories of his victory over Merit on this very stage. Gap believed that it was the strongest card he could play.
But there had been more recent confrontations, he said. These violent altercations jeopardized not only the health of those involved, but potentially the safety of the entire crew. Damages from one of the fights had even put their food supply at risk. This would not be tolerated.
When his ten minutes were up, he thanked the crew for their attention and descended the stairs to his seat on the front row. Gina returned to the microphone.
“Our second candidate for the position of Council Leader is Hannah Ross.”
Polite applause spread across the auditorium. To Gap it seemed to represent a combination of courtesy and curiosity.
Hannah apparently had no qualms with using prepared notes. She placed her workpad on the podium and shyly gazed out at the crew. The first sound she made was a nervous chuckle. Gap couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but the effect was obvious: the crew smiled back at her, as if they felt the butterflies she must be experiencing. Brilliant, Gap thought. Brilliant.
Hannah looked down at her workpad. “Three years is not a long time, really. Well, three years ago I was coming home from school, looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe doing some homework, then a little painting. I remember that I was working on a chalk piece that was a lot of fun, and I was anxious to try to finish it that night.
“I still have the memory of both of my parents waiting for me at the door. They never did that; they were usually off at work when I got home. But there they were. The first thing I thought was, ‘Oh no, Grandma’s sick again.’ I couldn’t tell from their faces if they were happy, or sad, or … or what. But they brought me inside, sat me down, and told me the news: I had been accepted to the Galahad training center. Just like all of you. You probably remember the day you found out, too.”
Gap marveled at the way she was connecting emotionally with the crowd. He never knew that she had that skill hidden behind her shy, quiet exterior. He could feel a definite vibe in the air, a feeling that the crew of Galahad was collectively embracing Hannah.
“And now,” she said, “three years later, I’m not only part of a select group of people who have been chosen to colonize a new world, but I’m standing here tonight, applying for the position of Council Leader.” She chuckled again, then added, “And you know what? I never did finish that chalk drawing.”
Now a genuine rush of laughter swelled towards the stage. Gap was not immune to her charm either, and found himself laughing as well.
“But that’s okay,” Hannah said, regaining her control of the room. “I’ve had some time to pursue my love of art, and a lot of time to do what I love the most: science and mathematics. I’m so lucky to be part of this mission, and to have the galaxy as a laboratory. Believe me, I don’t take it for granted.
“I understand that I might not have the Council experience that Gap has, and I also know that I don’t necessarily have a dynamic, outgoing personality. I’m aware of all of that. But I hope that, after you get to know me, and get to know my work ethic, you’ll support my run for the position of Council Leader. By the time you vote this Saturday morning, I intend to answer any questions about my abilities that you might have.”
Solid, Gap decided. Her presentation was honest and straightforward. She didn’t hide her lack of leadership experience, and the fact that she addressed her own reputation for being shy turned it to her advantage. He had to admit that he was impressed.
When she finished her opening comments, there was another wave of applause. This time, to Gap’s ear, it seemed congratulatory. She acknowledged the response while Gina waved Gap onstage to stand at the other podium.
“And now,” Gina said, “as I mentioned, there will be a question and answer period. I know that some of you might want to use this time to show off or try to make everyone laugh, but please, serious questions only. Both Hannah and Gap will have up to two minutes to answer each question.”
A handful of arms were raised, and, one by one, crew members stood and addressed the candidates. The first two questions had to do with their views on the mission so far, and their vision for how to handle what might lie ahead. Both Hannah and Gap gave articulate and well-reasoned answers.
From the second row an arm was raised. “There has been some talk going around about both of you sharing the position of Council Leader, since it might only be temporary. Thoughts on that?”
Gap looked over at Hannah to see if she wanted to answer first; she looked back at him. He decided to jump in.
“I haven’t heard anything about that,” he said. “However, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Too many times people are so leery of change, or of hurting someone’s feelings, that they try to please everyone at the same time. We have to be tougher than that. I obviously respect the abilities that Hannah has, and I hope she feels the same about me. Leadership is about making the tough decisions, whether they’re popular or not; it’s about being brave enough to stick your neck out, to make a decision based on the facts and what’s best for the ship and crew. Believe me, the Council is important, and it’s good to have a committee on some things. But in the end, what we need is someone who will stand up and make the call. That’s why you elect a Council Leader.”
Hannah nodded. “I agree with Gap. I know that some people want everything to always be friendly and smooth. Well, it doesn’t always work out that way. If I’m elected Council Leader, I will always want the opinions of Gap, the rest of the Council, and even the feedback from you, the crew. But ultimately a leader makes a call. So, no, I would never advocate sharing a leadership position.”
A question was posed about making changes to the rotating work cycles; both Hannah and Gap gave vague answers, mainly because neither thought the issue to be the most critical item they had to deal with at the time.
Finally, the question that had been avoided to this point was posed by Mathias. “I’d like to know what each of you thinks might be causing the problem with the radiation shield, and what you suggest we do about it. And your thoughts on what everyone is calling the space lightning.”
It was Gap’s turn to go first. He knew that this, of all the issues they faced, was the one which might determine the outcome of the election. He had agonized over the best way to approach it with the crew and knew that it was a tricky proposition. To propose an idea that was unproven, or to suggest something that turned out to be wrong, could be disastrous. On the other hand, to say “I have no idea” would be political suicide.
He looked around the room. It was deadly silent.
“Here’s where we stand on the radiation shield problem as of this afternoon,” he said. “The power unit which drives the shield continues to randomly drop out, usually for less than one second, but a couple of times now for a little more. I want to start by giving credit to the hard-working team in Engineering. They’ve voluntarily put in extra hours, and have handled the situation professionally and competently. I couldn’t ask for better people to work with side by side.
“I think you all know how serious this could turn out to be. There’s always a possibility, of course, that it’s something temporary that we’ll leave behind as quickly as it started. But we can’t automatically assume that. So we approach it in two parts: isolate the problem, then solve it.”
He knew that a general answer to the question wouldn’t satisfy most of the crew, but still he wanted to tread carefully. Plus, he did his best to put himself in Hannah’s shoes and tried to guess how she would respond to the question. He was in the midst of the crisis down in Engineering; what information could she provide without the same access? He wondered if his best position on the issue would be to offer the fewest details possible and trust that Hannah’s contribution would be even less. He swallowed hard and charged forward.
“We began by replacing the shield unit itself, and that changed nothing. So, although there’s a slight possibility that the problem is internal, it now appears most likely that we’re being affected by something outside the ship.
“We’ve investigated a variety of ideas, and currently we believe that we might be dealing with a phenomenon that we’ve labeled ‘space waves.’ These are waves of radiation that are produced naturally in our galaxy but are normally diverted around our solar system by our sun’s own energy blast. When these space waves make contact at the extreme edge of our system, they create ripples. Galahad is shooting through these ripples, and it’s having a negative reaction with our radiation shield.”
Gap paused. The crew was completely absorbed in his description. It was a gamble for him to so quickly default to Julya’s suggestion of the space waves, but it simply seemed to be the most viable idea so far. From the third row he could see Ruben staring up at him, a worried expression on his face. Ruben had voiced the biggest potential roadblock to the wave theory, the fact that Galahad was too far beyond the outer ring of the solar system for the waves to have this effect. But, again, it was the best suggestion so far. Gap ran with it.
However, he knew that the assembled crew members were waiting for the most important detail of all: what to do about it. For that, honesty would have to suffice.
“I’d love to tell you how we combat this problem, but I can’t. We’re working around the clock and hope to have a solution soon. If it is indeed a wave problem, then one idea is that we develop a method of riding the waves.”
“Surfing!” someone shouted from the middle of the room, which prompted a tension-breaking laugh.
“Well,” Gap said with a smile, “if that’s what it takes, I’m all for it. Those of us who like to Airboard would love it.” The other boarders in the room responded with a shout and applause.
“And finally,” he said, “I know that we’re all curious and a little concerned about the latest mystery to hit us. We just don’t have enough information about these intense flashes of light that have struck us twice. We haven’t noticed any damage, but we can’t say for sure.” He shook his head. “Actually, when I say we don’t have enough information, the truth is that we don’t have any information. We see the flash of light, we pick up readings of bizarre particles that we can’t identify … and that’s it. Is it tied to the radiation issue? I wish I knew.”
He looked over at Hannah and nodded. He had enormous respect for her scientific mind and was curious to hear what her answer might be. She looked down at her workpad for a long time.
“As some of you know,” she said, “I spend most of my free time immersed in the science of our trip. Space fascinates me, always has. I loved our slingshot around Saturn; I was practically obsessed with the possibilities of life on Titan, and then our discovery of the Cassini; and I spent hours trying to solve the mysteries of the Kuiper Belt. All of it, to me, boils down to the pure beauty of mathematics.
“So now, as you can imagine, my focus has been on the radiation problem. I’m not in the trenches with Gap and his team—and believe me, I wish my rotation right now was in Engineering—but the majority of my free time has been consumed by the available data and some spirited discussions with Roc.”
Gap felt a twinge of jealousy. Of course Roc was at the disposal of each and every crew member on the ship, but he couldn’t help but feel that theirs was a special relationship. To think that the computer might somehow inadvertently aid Hannah in her campaign …
“So, do I have a definite answer?” Hannah continued. “No. I certainly don’t have a clue about the space lightning. As Gap said, it leaves nothing for us to grab on to. But I do have what I strongly believe to be the most likely cause of our radiation dilemma.”
She threw a quick glance at Gap, and he swore that her expression said, “Are you ready for this?” Then, looking back over the packed auditorium, she said, “Although I respect Gap’s position, the problem is not caused by space waves. The shield that we rely upon to protect us from this sea of deadly radiation is being shaken apart at the molecular level, as is the rest of the ship, including the engines and life support. We haven’t seen those effects yet, but we will.”
The crew was shell-shocked. They sat frozen in their seats, staring up at the stage, afraid to utter a sound. Gap waited for a count of ten before deciding to plunge in with a question of his own.
“And what,” he said, “is causing this molecular destruction?”
Hannah turned to face him. “The same wormhole that took Triana away from us. It might have folded up and disappeared, but it left behind some significant damage, something that we’re still feeling, and will likely have to deal with for a while. I think the best way to describe it is to say that this section of space is bruised.”
There was a sudden release of energy in the room as the crew reacted. A loud rumble of voices swallowed the auditorium, with dozens of individual conversations competing with one another. Gap’s mouth fell open, and he stared across the stage at Hannah, who stood patiently behind her podium, watching, waiting.
17
Gap sat alone in his room, barefoot, stretching his feet out under his desk. It was after ten o’clock, but there wasn’t anywhere on the ship—other than this room, it seemed—that wasn’t bustling with activity. The Dining Hall had become the primary spot for people to gather and talk, and the Rec Room was packed. Almost two hours after the forum had come to its electric conclusion, crew members were still fired up to discuss Hannah’s explosive theory.
But Gap wanted solitude.
It stung on more than one level. Hannah had laid out a case for what was eating away at their primary radiation defense shield, and she had been very convincing. It was a double blow, because it not only called into question Gap’s ability to think through a major crisis, but it undoubtedly elevated Hannah’s leadership status in the eyes of the crew.
Not to mention the fact that, if her theory was correct, the ship was being dismantled at a molecular level, which made the election results pointless anyway. It would be a matter of which bullet took them out first: deadly radiation, or the loss of their life-support systems. Neither was pleasant to contemplate.
The few minutes after Hannah’s announcement remained a blur to Gap. He had a vague memory of Gina restoring order in the room, but it had taken a while. Both candidates had offered their closing statements, but he honestly couldn’t recall if he’d even spoken in complete sentences. His mind had already been racing through the consequences of Hannah’s wormhole hypothesis. She, however, had summarized quickly and eloquently, apologizing that she did not—at the moment—have a solution in mind, because she had only just formulated her idea in the last few hours. She would, s
he promised, be working diligently to find a solution.
As the auditorium emptied, Gap had worked his way through the crowd, back to his room to sift through his troubled thoughts. He had ignored calls from well-wishers; in his mind they were likely only pity calls. Like everyone else, he was well aware that Hannah had convincingly taken round one.
Against his better judgment he decided to engage the ship’s computer. “Roc, I suppose you heard Hannah’s presentation tonight at the forum.”
“It was very exciting,” Roc said. “At one point I almost choked on my popcorn.”
“I’m sure. But let’s talk about this wormhole theory. She said it caused damage in this section of space. The term she used was ‘bruised.’ What exactly does that mean?”
“It means you probably lost the election.”
Gap sighed. “Please, pal, not tonight. Just talk to me about the facts.”
“Oh, all right. I have to admit that Hannah’s idea is perhaps a bit far-fetched, and maybe even impossible from a physics point of view. But, as we’ve pointed out countless times, maybe nothing is impossible at some level, or in some corner of space. So, having said that, let me try to reduce her very colorful description down to some manageable pieces.
“We know that the wormholes burst open with a sizable bang. Even at a considerable distance they knocked us around pretty well. The same can be said for their very abrupt disappearance. Apparently wormholes are attention hogs, and can’t stand to enter or leave a room without everyone noticing.
“We also know that space is really like a piece of fabric. Wait, that’s been used a million times; I’m sick of the fabric analogy. Let’s say that space is like the palm of your hand. Got that visual? Okay, close your eyes and imagine that your palm is now holding stars and planets and Channy’s exotic T-shirts, and all of those things sit in your palm, but they have a lot of mass, so they warp the skin, causing little dents. When scientists say that space is warped, that’s what they mean. Or maybe a few of them think that warped space means that space is mentally unstable, but those scientists don’t get invited back to the really cool conferences with the colorful name badges and nifty goody bags. Following me so far?”