Gap looked at the pod data for the umpteenth time, a product of nerves, he decided. He had, with Roc’s help, run the figures over and over again. But he had arrived in Galahad’s Control Room much earlier than necessary, and had chosen busywork over simple fidgeting. Now the countdown for the pod’s capture stood at just over six minutes.
The sling was not helping matters. Punching numbers on a keyboard slowed dramatically when using one hand, and Gap was at least thankful that Kaya was there to help. A fifteen-year-old of Hopi Indian descent, she had helped pass the time with Gap by swapping stories of their respective homelands in between entering some of his computer calculations. Gap was fascinated by the tales of her ancestors in the southwestern part of the United States and welcomed the diversion from the otherwise tense situation.
Once again he silently acknowledged the brilliant mind of Dr. Wallace Zimmer. The scientist had insisted that Galahad embrace a culturally diverse crew, and Gap appreciated it more every day. Kaya not only possessed a razor-sharp mind, but also had a talent for painting vivid mental images of her people’s way of life.
The ship’s Control Room began to fill up. Designed mostly for special situations, the room had few real uses since Roc managed most of the day-to-day operations of the vessel. Situated on the top level of Galahad, perched just in front of Dome One, it was large enough to hold about ten or twelve people. Light blue walls surrounded a workspace that was dominated by an immense vidscreen, which was dark at the moment. Five computer stations, all of which were currently occupied, were scattered around the oval room.
Triana had arrived ten minutes earlier and had conferred with Gap about the pod interception, then left him to his work. He looked up as the door opened again and gave a small wave toward Channy and Lita as they entered. Channy was chattering, as usual. No sign of Bon, which probably irritated Tree, but was okay with Gap. Besides, was it any surprise that the gruff Swede was a no-show?
“Five minutes,” came Roc’s voice. Gap felt his palms glisten with sweat and stole a glance at Triana, sitting quietly at another computer station. She seemed calm, without the visible signs of stress that Gap was sure he was emitting. But then, he realized, after her heroic efforts to save them all right after launch, this was probably a piece of cake.
Or was she a bundle of nerves on the inside? Gap had always had such a difficult time reading her. She seemed cool right now, but was she twisting on the inside like him? The mystery of this small craft had to make things intense for her, didn’t it? Gap was dying to know what was inside the pod. Wouldn’t she be just as curious? If so, it didn’t show.
Which is why, he realized, she was the Council Leader, and he was not.
He turned his attention back to the vidscreen. The final computation was complete. Now it was simply a matter of Roc engaging the tractor beam at just the precise moment. If they were off by even a couple of seconds . . .
“Feeling good about your calculations, Gap?” came Roc’s voice, startling him. “You realize that if you’re off by even—”
“My calculations are perfect,” Gap shot back. “I’ll get us in the ballpark. You just worry about your little chore.”
“Hmm,” Roc said. “Do I trust a guy whose earlier calculations threw him into a wall at about twenty-five miles per hour? That sling you’re wearing doesn’t inspire much confidence, you know.”
Out of the corner of his eye Gap could see Triana, Lita, and Channy all grinning at this typical exchange. Roc and Gap had a reputation for verbal sparring, and even Gap had to admit that the computer usually came out on top. But the Council member couldn’t stop himself from charging back in.
“If you’ll recall, I’m also the guy who saved your chips after our stowaway almost unplugged you for good. Might turn out to be the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
“A close second, actually,” the computer said. “The worst decision would probably be choosing that shirt. Ick.”
Gap sighed. Would he ever learn?
Channy strolled over to stand next to him. “Don’t listen to him, Gap. I think your shirt looks cool.”
Gap started to thank her, then took a quick glance at Channy’s bright pink T-shirt, splattered with red and green polka dots. “That’s . . . reassuring,” he said.
“Four minutes,” Roc said. “The pod should be within visual range any moment.”
“Let’s have the big screen on, Roc,” Triana said, standing up. The dark screen flickered for an instant before filling with stars. “I don’t see . . .” Triana started to say. “Wait, that must be it.” She walked up to the screen and pointed at an egg-shaped dot that was steadily growing in size. It was gray, and, with the way the light from Saturn danced across it, was probably spinning as it flew through its orbit. Within a minute it became large enough to see clearly against the backdrop of stars.
Gap stared at the image, then stole a glance at the people in the Control Room. Every eye was on the screen, and every mind, Gap knew, was also probably on the same thought: What is in this thing?
“I will point out, for the last time,” Roc said, “that we have an extremely small window of opportunity here. If we miss it, that little metal pill will burn up in Saturn’s atmosphere. Because in exactly twenty-one minutes we will slingshot around the planet and be gone for good. There’s no chance to swing around and try again.”
Triana nodded. “Understood.” She turned to Gap. “Anything else we need to do?”
“Nope,” he said. “After our last minor adjustment it’s all gone automatic. We should engage the beam in about . . .” He looked down at the digital counter. “In about ninety seconds.”
Channy, who was still standing next to him, put her hand on Gap’s shoulder. “Good luck,” she whispered.
The vidscreen image of the pod continued to grow, until it seemed as if Galahad were almost on top of it. The counter silently clicked down to five. Four. Three. Two . . .
“Engaging tractor beam . . . now,” Roc said.
A ghostly faint light shot from the lower front edge of the ship and locked on to the pod, which visibly shuddered. The spinning motion of the small craft slowed. Gap thought he felt a slight tremble run through his feet, but wondered if it was only his imagination.
Roc’s voice cut through the silence in the Control Room. “I believe we have landed a steel fish.”
Lita and Channy cheered, along with several of the other crew members in the room. Gap let out his breath in relief, then suddenly found himself in an embrace. Channy had wrapped her arms around his chest and was squeezing him. She reached up and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Nice job,” she said. He grinned, a blush appearing on his cheeks.
“Whoa,” Roc said. “What about me? I’m the one who did most of the work here. Where’s my hug and kiss?”
Channy let go of Gap, kissed her index finger, and stubbed it against one of Roc’s red sensor lights on the console. “Way to go, Roc. You’re a terrific fisherman.”
Lita walked up beside Triana. “Well,” she said. “You guys did it. Congratulations.”
“We’re not done yet,” Triana said. “Grabbing it with the tractor beam is one thing. We still have to get it into the Spider bay.”
“Please,” Roc said. “Reeling her in is the easiest part. I’ll have her locked down and buttoned up in no time. Give me an hour and I’ll have you crawling around inside that thing.”
Lita and Triana exchanged a tense look, both of their faces exhibiting the same feeling: do we really want to know what’s inside?
Galahad had used a combination of ion power engines and solar sails to reach the outer region of the solar system. Now, with the sails withdrawn, the ship began to make its final dive around Saturn. The gravitational slingshot around the gas giant would propel the ship at even greater speed, flinging it out of orbit and on track out of the sun’s planetary system. Eos awaited, four and a half years away.
The outer door had closed, depositing the pod from SAT33 in the hangar like Spider bay. It would take a while for the room to pressurize and warm back up, so Triana had decided to wait until after they had whipped around Saturn to investigate. The small metal craft sat alone in the dim light of the bay, silent.
Minutes later, the slingshot maneuver began. Just as they had four months earlier, when the journey had commenced, almost every crew member found a window or vidscreen. They watched, their eyes wide, as Galahad screamed through space, reaching its closest point to Saturn before breaking away and rocketing into the void of outer space. There was no physical sensation of movement, but the visual evidence attested to the astounding velocity Galahad had achieved.
The majesty of the regal planet began to fall away, the colors dazzling, the rings almost hypnotic. Many of the crew members began to murmur to each other, pointing to the peculiar ice rings and wondering aloud if their new home, one of the planets of Eos, might have similar discs. Or, would their night sky feature a sister planet with rings? Would their new home even have a moon? Or several?
After months of dull travel, the excitement level had reached another high. What they had only seen before in pictures was now spread out before them, and the enthusiasm for their journey returned, if only briefly. It provided a welcome distraction.
In the murky distance, unnoticed by the crew, Titan continued its lonely orbit around Saturn.