by Dom Testa
“It’s a challenge, but I’m holding on. Can we get back to the bruises?”
“Okay,” Roc said. “Now for a moment imagine the way these wormholes operate. Suddenly, from across the room, a straw races up and punches a hole in the middle of your hand, right up through your palm. Grisly, eh? Blood, tendons, muscle, yecch. Of course it will make your hand jump, because … well, it hurts. But the damage goes beyond that. Little blood vessels around the wound are broken, and they end up leaking into the tissue around the wound, and that’s why you get a bruise.”
Gap sat patiently, taking it all in. “Uh … right. I understand the concept of a human bruise. But how does space bruise?”
“We have no idea that it does,” Roc said. “In fact, until Hannah first proposed this idea I’d never heard of it before. But I love it. If she turns out to be right, we should create a little fake Nobel Prize necklace and let her walk around with it. The concept is so simple, and yet … not. The wormholes are puncturing the skin of space where they pop out.”
Gap pinched his lower lip with his fingers. “And the leaking blood? Is that radiation leaking through from the other side of the wormhole?”
“Close your eyes again and this time imagine me shrugging.”
“But it’s Hannah’s best guess, right?”
“Yep,” the computer said. “Seeping, oozing radiation. And potent, too. It spreads out around the space where the wormhole blasted through and leaves little concentric circles of energy. We just happen to be skipping through those rings, and they’re overwhelming our radiation shield. At least that’s the theory.”
The concept, Gap had to agree, was brilliant. It might never be proved, or it might even be dead wrong, but it explained almost everything they were experiencing.
Suddenly, a terrifying thought made him sit up straight. “Wait. If the radiation coming through the wormhole is that intense, what does that mean for Triana? She would be right in the middle of that soup on the other side. That would mean…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. To think of Triana, pummeled by that much energy, was too much.
“I’m not so sure of that,” Roc said. “I don’t think the radiation spilling out on this side is from one source.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m working on it. Let me give it some thought and I’ll get back with you. In the meantime, don’t mourn Triana’s passing just yet.”
In a way, Gap realized, he had gradually been mourning Tree for a long time, long before she took off in the pod. But Roc was right; until they had more information, it was pointless to jump to any conclusions.
“I see that you’re deep in thought,” the computer said, “and since that’s very rare, I’m a little hesitant to interrupt.”
“All right, wise guy, what’s on your mind?”
“You haven’t asked for my opinion, but would you mind if I made a keen observation, followed by an extremely practical suggestion?”
Despite his heavy heart, Gap couldn’t help but laugh. “I know you’re going to anyway, so I give you permission. What’s the observation?”
“You and I have spent many hours together, beginning with your training at Galahad Command. We’ve weathered difficult times together, we’ve navigated some tough obstacles along the way, and you even saved my circuits one time, a debt that I have tried to repay by showering you with my knowledge and my charm.”
“I’m very grateful for that,” Gap said with a smirk.
“The road has not been bumpy the entire route, though. We’ve also shared some good times, including long, quiet evenings engaged on the battlefield of Masego. You’re really improving, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that so I’ll continue to let you stomp me.”
“True, but that’s not the point,” Roc said. “The point is that I probably know you better than anyone on this ship. Which is why I’m able to make the observation that I’m about to make.”
“And that is…?”
“You have gone from being an enthusiastic, ever-optimistic, lead-the-charge kind of guy, to a mopey, woe-is-me kind of guy. It’s so very unattractive, and it’s certainly not you. I noticed it in phases not long after we left Earth and wrote it off to those pesky human hormones. But the phases have been lasting longer, until now, with this election upon us, you seem to be perpetually in a lousy mood. Which is a waste, really, because Bon already placed his flag on that territory long ago, and there’s not enough room for both of you.”
Gap sat silently, his hands in his lap. He wanted to argue with what Roc was saying, but knew in his heart that he had no case.
“Anyway, that’s the observation,” Roc said. “And now, for the unsolicited advice, which, if you think about it, might be the best kind of all, because people never ask for advice when they know they’re wrong, they only ask when they want someone to tell them what they want to hear. Whew, that’s a mouthful—or, in my case, a speakerful—but you get it.
“I strongly recommend that you go back to the Gap who boarded this ship. Yes, Triana is gone, but the crew needs leadership. Yes, we are on the verge of being microwaved like a bag of popcorn, but the crew needs someone with vision. And yes, Hannah smoked you during the first forum, but for your mental health you need to keep your head up and learn.
“And,” the computer continued, “I think you’ll find that the best therapy for you right now is to take Hannah’s theory, or any other plausible idea, and dive right in to solve the problem. So far it seems like you are tiptoeing around the radiation issue, almost like you’re afraid to make a wrong step. You’re asking for a lot of opinions, a lot of suggestions, yet seem to be unable—or unwilling—to take your own ideas out for a test ride. I think you’re taking this ‘interim Council Leader’ title too seriously, and you’re playing too conservatively, as if you’re playing not to lose. The old Gap would play to win.”
Gap ran a hand through his hair. When he spoke, all he could think to say was: “Wow.”
“And that’s all the free advice I have for you tonight,” Roc said. “Any additional wisdom will be on the clock.”
“Wow, that’s … uh…” Gap stared down at his hands for a moment. The words could have stung, but the truth within them seemed to soften them somewhat. Or, more likely, he realized, he knew it all along, and Roc merely vocalized what Gap understood at his core. And yet knowing something doesn’t necessarily call one to action; it often takes validation of those thoughts from someone else. In this case, Gap could almost see the sleep-walking version of himself through a veil, shrouded, hidden in shadow. Roc had pulled the veil aside.
Gap grabbed his shoes and stood up. “Thanks, Roc. And I mean that. I know that you’re right. Which is difficult for me to say to you, by the way.”
“I’m sure.”
“But you’re right. I mean it, thanks.”
“Just part of my job,” the computer said. “Beats monitoring the sewage system.”
Gap nodded. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I want to check in with the team down in Engineering, and then get some sleep. Got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
He slipped his shoes on, then hustled out the door and down the curved corridor to the lift.
18
“That was a thing of beauty,” Merit said.
Hannah didn’t have to turn and face him; even with her back to him she could guess his pose: leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, a single strand of raven hair hanging across his face. And, of course, the usual wicked grin.
She was back at the secluded window near the Spider bay, driven to find peace and quiet following the mayhem of the forum. She suddenly was the center of attention aboard the ship, and it felt crushing, suffocating. She’d smiled and mumbled thanks to the crowd of well-wishers as she threaded her way out of the auditorium, then quickly slipped away to the lift and the sanctuary of the dim lower level.
Somehow she had known that Merit would be right on her heels.
She finally looked
over her shoulder and had to resist the urge to laugh; he stood exactly as she’d pictured him.
“Beauty?” she said. “It was a circus.” She turned her attention back to the view through the window. “I should’ve gone to the Council instead of dropping a bomb like that.”
“It would have been a bombshell coming from them, too,” Merit said. “What difference does that make?” He walked over and stood next to her. “Of course you’re going to second-guess everything right now. But I’m telling you, it was perfect. When the forum began, you were seen as a token opponent, someone simply there to fill out the ballot card. But now you’ve given this crew the information they needed, and you’ve showed them that you’re more than qualified to lead this mission.”
“I didn’t give them much ‘information,’ Merit. I scared them, which is not what I wanted to do.”
“They’ve been through it before.”
Hannah shook her head. “The idea that we’re being atomically dismantled? Or, if that doesn’t do us in first, that we’ll be fried by a jet stream of radiation? They haven’t been through that before. And yet all you seem to care about is this ridiculous election.” She gave him an icy look. “That is all you care about, isn’t it?”
He crossed his arms again and returned her glare. “Yes,” he said. “Or no. Whichever you prefer to hear. But it would be nice if you cared about it a little more.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right. Wanting to simply win the election isn’t caring; you only really care if you want to completely destroy the other person. Got it.”
“You wear me out, Hannah. I came to offer congratulations for a job well done, to compliment you on the way you handled yourself, and for whatever reason you lash out at me. I never said anything about destroying anyone.”
“But it’s implied in everything you say.”
“I can’t help what you think,” Merit said. “But I’ll say it again: you did a terrific job tonight. If you want to lead this ship, you can’t feel regret about how well you defeated your opponent. Once you start feeling sympathy, you’re doomed. Leaders are strong.”
“And I believe leaders have compassion,” Hannah said. “Why don’t we just agree to disagree on a few things. Now tell me what else you want to talk about, because I’d like some alone time before I fall into bed.”
He stared at her for a moment before pushing away from the wall and walking slowly, back and forth, across the corridor. “Well, it’s going to be hard for us to strategize on the next forum if we can’t agree on tactics. You confuse aggressive campaigning with being cold and heartless. All I’m saying is that if you have Gap down right now, you better put him away. For one thing, you need to point out the breakdown in discipline on the ship in just the short time that Triana’s been gone. You need to express that these fights are a sign that Gap’s not ready to lead. The damage to the Farms could be a crucial element in all of this. That’s a direct reminder of how fragile our ecosystem is.”
Hannah scowled but didn’t respond. Merit stopped pacing, faced her, and spread his hands. “The crew is ready to follow you after your presentation tonight. They want to follow you. You showed them intellect and instinct. But the next thing you have to show them is courage. Courage to make the hard choices, courage to take chances. You have to appear strong. Otherwise they’ll simply see you as a resource for Gap, someone he turns to when he needs the facts.”
Most of what Merit said rolled off Hannah without an effect, but for some reason this last comment stuck. She didn’t mind helping, but to be thought of as merely a smart resource …
This was crazy. Merit was playing on her emotional scars, poking where he knew she’d be sensitive. Now he was planting the idea that Gap would only use her for information. But Gap wasn’t that way.
Was he?
Her thoughts tumbled out of control. She needed order, but it was out of her grasp. “I have to go,” she said, turning from the window but avoiding eye contact with Merit. “I know you want to talk about the next forum, but I can’t right now. I need sleep. It’s late, I’m tired, and, quite frankly, I’m a little tired of you and your pacing. Let me get some rest and we can pick this back up tomorrow, okay?”
He pulled up in front of her. “Yeah, okay. Get some sleep. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
She made an exaggerated show of walking around him to make her way back to the lift. Just before she rounded the turn she heard him call out to her, “You’re just a few days away from being elected Council Leader of Galahad. Get all the sleep you can.”
* * *
After tossing and turning all night, Gap was convinced that what he needed more than anything else was a good, solid workout to start his day. Airboarding sounded more appealing, but a strenuous round of Channy’s morning routine was probably a better call. He could always try to squeeze in a few laps later at the track.
But first things first. Instead of heading towards the gym on the lower level, he took the lift up to the domes. This might be the best time to reach Bon before activity at the Farms reached its peak. And, after being cooped up in Sick House and his room, it was a sure thing that Bon would already be in his office. Whether he would be in any kind of mood to talk was another matter.
“Bet you’re glad to be back at work,” Gap said, sticking his head in the office.
Bon was sitting on the floor, surrounded by what looked like crop samples. His workpad was on his lap. He looked up, then returned to his work. “I expected you, but not this early,” he said.
Gap sat down in one of the chairs. “Busy day. Thought I might start it off with a social call.”
“Yes, that’s usually why people come to see me.”
Gap smiled. “I see that your face-plant in the crops might have bloodied your lip, but it hasn’t stripped you of your sarcastic wit.”
“It didn’t strengthen my patience, either. I’m here early to catch up on work. What is it you want to talk about?”
“Things have changed since the Council meeting,” Gap said. “It was one thing for you to insist on having a private chat with the Cassini when it seemed like you had some measure of control. But even you have to admit that there’s no question anymore about how dangerous it is.”
“All right, it’s dangerous.”
Gap realized that this discussion would be no different than most with Bon. In a way it was like soldiers charging a hill, fighting like mad for every foothold, advancing just a few steps at a time, then digging in before clawing their way upward again. With Bon you always had to fight for each step; nothing was given to you.
“Don’t you think it’s time we also talked about your agenda with the Cassini?” Gap said. “You know I was there, so it’s not entirely a mystery anymore.”
“Oh?” Bon said. “And what exactly did you hear?”
“I heard you asking a question: ‘Where is she?’”
Bon said nothing and punched in some figures on his workpad.
“If you’re looking for Tree, why can’t you talk to the rest of the Council about that?” Gap said. “Why the secrecy? Why is that something you need to do on your own? Are you trying to be a hero or something?”
Bon rolled his eyes. “Yes, that must be it. That sounds just like me, doesn’t it?”
“You’re giving me nothing!” Gap said, his voice rising. “If you’re irritated by people always trying to guess your motives and your emotions, quit playing these silly games. The whole ‘dark and mysterious’ act has worn pretty thin. I’ll stop guessing as soon as you tell me what the answer is.”
Bon set his workpad on the floor and stood up, brushing off his pants. He walked over to his desk and sat down. “I think you might have misunderstood what was going on.”
Gap fought to control his anger. He turned to look out the window into Dome 1 and mentally counted to ten. “All right, then make it clear to me.”
Bon shrugged. “It’s not even clear to me. When we connect, they direct most of the conversation. I get in quest
ions only when I’m able to fight back their power. That’s why the connections seem so violent to an outsider.”
“I already know that,” Gap said. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m not sure how to answer your question. I told you the last time we had this chat, it’s personal.”
Gap stood up and went to the window. He leaned against the sill and stared back at Bon. “Okay, then tell me this. Did they answer you?”
Bon sat quietly for a moment, tapping an index finger on his desk. “It’s not always easy to decipher their answers.”
“But they did answer you?”
“In a way. But you don’t understand, they don’t exactly carry on conversations the way you’re used to. It’s not a question and answer session. If they respond—if—it’s more like them implanting a solution somewhere within my brain. I’m not always sure what it means.”
Gap nodded thoughtfully. “Like the code they gave you to maneuver through the Kuiper Belt.”
“Yeah. When I sat down at the keyboard in the Control Room, I didn’t fully understand what I was inputting; it was there, and somehow I accessed it enough to type it in. But if I was given an essay test, I wouldn’t know where to begin.
“They’re not making me smarter,” Bon continued. “It’s like they’re … like they’re lending me information. Or maybe a better way to put it is, I’m a courier for the information. I carry it, but it doesn’t belong to me.”
The concept sounded so alien to Gap. But, he realized, they were dealing with a thoroughly alien entity, one that was comprised almost entirely of thought.
“All right,” he said. “But for now the courier service is going on hold. Until Lita’s test results come back, no more links. Period.” He walked over to the desk and held out his hand. “In fact, let’s avoid any more arguments. Give me the translator.”