How much time had passed? She didn’t know. It could have been two minutes, it could have been twenty-two minutes, and their countdown might have evaporated. Her feet had taken root, along with the host of plant life scattered around Galahad’s Domes, and her mind had refused to process any incoming data, like a satellite dish nudged a degree or two from its signal.
Common sense told her that this was no time for an internal emotional conflict, but at the moment all rational thought was being overridden. And, for the second time since she’d walked out of the Agricultural office, a voice broke through the fog.
“Tree, are you okay?”
She snapped her head to the side and found Lita and Bon looking at her with concern. Before answering Lita, she checked her watch and did the mental arithmetic.
Fifteen minutes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s the story?”
“Well, I found Javier,” Bon said. “He’s the tech who made the service call on that recycling pump.”
“And?”
“And he did pick up the ball, or translator, I guess. Anyway, he took it down to the Dining Hall with him, and actually gave it to a group of guys who walked out as he walked in.”
Triana sagged. “Oh, no. Any idea—”
“Yes,” Lita broke in. “That’s what we’ve been running down for the last few minutes. The translator ended up with Elijah down in Engineering.” She offered Triana a much-needed smile. “You’ll be very happy to know that he’s on his way up here right now with the translator.”
Triana exhaled, pushing the air out through pursed lips. She shook her head and put a hand on Lita’s shoulder. “We need a vacation.”
The comment sank in for a moment before the two girls broke out in a fit of laughter. Another face-to-face appointment with death, the second in four months, had officially caught up with them, and the release felt good. They shook with their laughter while Bon stood by, the faint trace of a smile flickering across his face. For the time being Triana didn’t care whether he smiled or not. Something had finally clicked inside, something that seemed to open a door to her feelings. If they survived this latest crisis, she knew that in a fundamental way she would never be the same again, at least emotionally.
If they survived . . .
Out of nervous habit she glanced again at her watch. Thirteen minutes.
Gap felt a curious sense of pride as he walked briskly into the Engineering section with Hannah. Pride at having a beautiful girl at his side, witnessed by the several crew members on duty at the time, each of whom followed the progression of the couple as they hurried across the room. And pride at escorting Hannah into his domain, the zone inside the ship where he ruled. Whenever Hannah had joined the Council for meetings, Triana had been in charge; here, it was his responsibility, and an odd sense of satisfaction swelled within him. In a way, he realized that it was his chance to show off.
But maybe not for much longer.
That thought had crowded in on him while the two descended in the lift. It figures, he thought, that he would finally make a proactive move with his social life just as the timer ran out. And yet, was it that looming sense of finality that had ultimately pushed him to action? No matter, he decided. Desperate circumstances often brought out the very best in people, or awakened a resolve they never knew they possessed. Why should he be any different?
He also had felt a touch of impatience, for they never had the lift to themselves. Two other crew members had ridden with them as they left the Domes, and then, when those two had exited, another jumped on as the doors began to close. It seemed he was not destined to be alone with Hannah right now.
The atmosphere in the room was charged with a nervous energy that made his skin tingle. A cloak of fear settled over the crew as the clock ticked, and he knew he had to set a positive example. As he approached the power grid near the ion drive, Gap was glad to see his top two assistants, Ramasha and Esteban, already on the scene. “Hey, guys,” he said with a smile. They both acknowledged him with a quick wave, their gaze flickering briefly on Hannah before returning to their work. Gap realized he would be the main topic of Gossip Central before the day was out.
Which seemed a fair trade to him; it would mean that at least they were around to gossip about.
“Roll your sleeves up,” he said to the assembled crew. “It could start to get a little crazy here pretty soon.” Anxious smiles greeted the comment, about the best he had hoped for.
“Roc,” he called out. “I’ve been thinking.”
“And I thought it couldn’t get any worse,” the computer said. Gap heard Hannah stifle a giggle beside him.
“Very funny,” he said. “Listen, how long would it take to rewrite the code that controls the ion drive reactor?”
“The entire program?” Roc said. “You’re talking about one of the most complicated systems ever developed, you understand.”
“Right. How long?”
There was a pause as Galahad’s computer brain sorted through the data. “I’d say . . . about two days. That’s assuming I worked through lunch.”
“Okay,” Gap said. “So, that’s out. What if we adjusted random parts of it?”
“I think I see what you’re getting at,” Roc said, “but you realize that’s like stopping a flood with a paper towel, right?”
Hannah touched Gap’s arm. “Could you tell me what you’re getting at?”
Gap pointed to the power grid. “The Cassini has already done its homework on the ship’s power system. It learned everything it could about how the ion drive works. But it had to take a break while it was behind Saturn.”
Ramasha was standing to one side and suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I get it. When it makes contact again, the code will have changed. It will have to relearn the program before it can start adjusting things again.”
Hannah looked skeptical. “But . . . but that won’t take it very long. Maybe a minute, if we’re lucky?”
Gap shrugged. “Hey, right now I think we could use every break we get. If this buys us thirty seconds it might make all the difference in the world.”
“Consider it done,” Roc said. “I’m starting work on it right now. I might even throw in a bogus line of code here and there to trip it up.”
Gap said, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to—”
“Sshhh,” the computer hissed. “Quiet. I’m trying to work here.”
Triana, Lita, Channy, and Bon waited nervously in Bon’s office. As the ten-minute mark came and went, Triana bit her lip and stared out the large window into Dome 1. Lita stepped up and put an arm around her shoulder.
“You know what I miss the most about home?”
Triana looked into her friend’s eyes. “No, tell me.”
Lita pointed at the crops that gently swayed in the Dome’s circulated air. “I look at those rows of food and it makes me really miss my mother’s cooking.” She gave Triana an amused look. “Not that the food on this ship is bad, but I’d give anything to have one of my mother’s tortillas right now.”
Triana smiled and leaned her head against Lita’s. “My dad used to make us lasagna every Sunday. It was my favorite.” Her eyes grew moist, and she blinked them quickly. “He used to tell me that I was going to get sick of it, but I never did.” She pulled back and looked at Lita. “I haven’t had lasagna once since the day he died.”
Lita hugged Triana’s shoulder. “Tell you what. When this is over we’ll get together and cook. My mother’s tortillas, and your dad’s lasagna.”
“Do we have the stuff on this ship to make those?”
Lita shrugged. “Who cares? We’ll improvise. Or we’ll combine the two and make lasagna using the tortillas. A Mexican lasagna.”
Triana laughed. “It’s a deal.”
They heard the sound of running and saw two boys dashing down the path toward the office. All four Council members hurried to the door and met the boys as they drew close. Elijah, a popular fifteen-year-old from Poland, was red-faced from running. He stretched out his hand to Triana and dropped a small metal ball into her palm.
“Sorry, we got here as fast as we could,” he said, catching his breath.
“Thanks, Elijah,” she said. Then, turning to the others, she raised her eyebrows. “Uh . . . now what?”
Lita took the ball from her and examined it. “This has to be it,” she said, eyeing the rounded spikes and vents. “It looks relatively new.”
Channy said, “It better be it, because as a cat toy it stinks.”
“And Bon just . . . what, holds it?” Triana said.
“Well, that’s my best guess,” Lita said. “Here.” She handed the metallic ball to Bon, who shifted it back and forth between his hands.
Triana checked her watch. “Six minutes.”
Bon looked up at her. “I don’t want to sound stupid, but exactly how is this supposed to work? Am I supposed to think certain thoughts, or try to talk to them, or it, or whatever? I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Triana managed a slight smile. “And we don’t know any more than you. But if Lita’s theory is right, then the Cassini will reconnect with you in just a few minutes and start sifting through your brain again. This little device will hopefully allow you to speak its language.”
“Yeah,” Channy added, “so start thinking ‘stop, stop, stop.’ Maybe it will get the message.”
How’s it coming, Roc?” Gap said.
“I think I’ve done about all the damage I can right now,” the computer answered. “I must say, I feel a bit like a hooligan, just randomly vandalizing the computer program that drives the ship.”
“Yeah, you’re quite the delinquent. I just hope you remember how to put it back together again later.”
“Oh,” Roc said, “so I’m supposed to put it back the way it was? You should have told me that.”
Gap saw the horrified look that crossed Hannah’s face. “Don’t listen to him,” he whispered to her. “That’s just his sense of humor. You have to learn how to filter out about half of what he says.” He hoped that it sounded reassuring, but Hannah merely turned her gaze to the power grid and pressed her lips together tightly. Without giving himself a chance to second-guess things, Gap reached out and took her hand.