2

His name was Taresh, and he held the attention of about twenty-five Galahad crew members who hunched over their workpads. This particular session of School focused on history; in particular, the rise and eventual end of British colonization. With their stylus pens hastily scribbling notes, the students’ eyes darted back and forth between their workpads and the young man from India who spoke onstage in the Learning Center.

From the beginning, the man who had organized the Galahad mission insisted that the crew members participate in their own education. Dr. Wallace Zimmer had provided the necessary information in the ship’s computers to instruct the young pupils in all areas, a measure that ensured that Eos would be settled by a highly educated population. Yet, rather than have them sit through lecture after lecture by Roc, Dr. Zimmer put a heavy emphasis on students carrying much of the load.

Regardless of the subject matter, Galahad’s crew members were expected to take their turn onstage, sharing specific information that they had researched for that particular lesson. It not only encouraged each student to expand his or her individual acquirement skills, it developed a sense of teamwork. Whether they were outgoing or shy, it didn’t matter; at various points everyone would take his turn in front of the group.

Taresh had volunteered to share the story of India’s past. A native of Patna, a city on the banks of the Ganges River, he was a good choice to teach his fellow travelers about the region. Easygoing and well liked, he exuded pride about his home country that was evident to everyone in the room. With the help of graphics that Roc flashed on the large screen behind the stage, Taresh quickly recounted the story of India’s vast wealth of cotton, silk, spices, and tea, and how Britain established outposts that soon came to dominate the country. The British East India Company evolved into territorial rule, complete with a government infrastructure, armies, and more. Taresh concluded his comments by addressing the rise of self-government, and official independence in 1947.

Seated in one of the chairs, and entirely absorbed in the information, was Gap Lee. The Head of Engineering on Galahad and a Council member, he enjoyed School, especially these times of student-led discussion. In particular, Gap admired the way Taresh held himself, and the graceful manner in which he related the story of his country’s heritage.

Gap felt a similar pride for his home country of China. He knew that for ages, the people of his country had clashed with the people of India, often over disputed territory between the two great nations. Now, with Earth billions of miles behind him—and growing more distant every second—it was difficult for Gap to fathom those differences, and how they could go unresolved for so long. Taresh was a friend, and Gap was saddened that countless generations of their people had chosen a warlike path over peace and cooperation.

Too often it had been the same story for the people of Earth; here, however, in the cocoon known as Galahad, such cultural and territorial disputes seemed old and irrelevant.

Taresh finished his report, and a smattering of applause followed him to his seat next to Gap. A five-minute break would follow before the class shifted its attention to mathematics.

“Well done,” Gap said, clapping Taresh on the shoulder. “I’ve heard the name Gandhi so many times, but I never really knew what he was all about.”

“I felt the same way when we studied Greek history last week,” Taresh said, saving the data on his workpad. “Familiar names, but I couldn’t have told you anything about them.”

A boy in front of them turned around. “I still don’t understand why we have to learn any of this anyway.”

Gap looked into the eyes of Micah, who hailed from New York. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve left all of this behind us. Why bother to drag it to Eos? What good will it do when we start over on a new world? I don’t get it.”

Gap glanced at Taresh, who jumped in to answer.

“It’s important to learn as many lessons from the past as possible.”

“I don’t see how,” Micah said. “Shouldn’t we spend more time on math and science, and forget about all of the nonsense that our ancestors caused? If you ask me, it’s better to ignore their mistakes.”

Gap shook his head. “I can’t agree with that. The reason we study the mistakes from the past is so that we’ll recognize what works and what doesn’t. Besides, it’s not all about mistakes. There were some great people who did some amazing things; just reading about their wisdom inspires me sometimes.”

“And remember this,” Taresh added. “The path that we’ve all taken is a part of who we are. How can you appreciate what you have if you have nothing to compare it to?”

Micah looked thoughtful. “Yeah, that’s true. I never looked at it that way before.”

Taresh chuckled. “I know that sometimes it just seems like a bunch of useless facts that we’ll never really need. But that’s because we forget to look underneath. The story of our past is a great tool for creating a better future. It’s not just facts and figures; it’s our foundation. It’s the same with traditions.”

With a nod, and a new look of respect on his face, Micah turned back around. Gap looked at Taresh. “So what’s new in your world?”

“I’m about to start a turn in Sick House in two weeks. I’m glad, too, because medicine is one of my interests.”

“That’s cool. Lita’s a good teacher, too,” Gap said. “What have you been doing for fun?”

“Would you believe board games?” Taresh said with a smile. “Seven or eight of us have gotten hooked. We meet in the Rec Room twice a week after dinner, and it’s a blast. You should join us sometime.”

“Might be a good change from playing Masego with Roc,” Gap said. “I’ve still never beaten him, and I think lately he’s been letting me get closer, just to keep my hopes up.”

While he was talking, Gap glanced around the room. People were sitting in groups, chatting, and others were walking in and out of the door to the hallway, preparing for the second half of the class. He started to say something else about Roc, when suddenly he caught sight of a familiar face in the back row.

It was Hannah Ross. She kept her head down, and appeared to be sketching something. The fact that she was in the back of the room probably indicated that she preferred not to be seen by Gap. He understood.

Two months earlier he had ended a relationship with Hannah, and they had not spoken since. He saw her occasionally, but it was rare. And in those awkward moments she made sure to avoid contact or conversation.

The breakup had come during a stressful, disturbing point in Gap’s experience on Galahad. In the weeks that followed he had questioned his own decision, often tempted to stop by and visit the quiet girl from Alaska. The closest he had come was an email, a long, detailed letter explaining his motives. In it he admitted that he missed her, and wondered if she would have any interest in meeting for dinner.

Hannah had not responded.

Now, at the back of the Learning Center, she continued to keep her gaze on her workpad. She had to know that Gap was in the room.

“Well?”

Gap realized with a start that Taresh had been speaking to him. “I’m sorry, I was drifting,” he said.

Taresh turned to look in the direction that Gap had been staring, then looked back at his friend. A knowing expression was on his face. “I said we’re going to be meeting up in the Rec Room again tonight, if you’d like to come by.”

“Uh, sure, I’ll try to make it if I can,” Gap said, shifting back in his chair to face forward. “Anybody I know in your group?”

“Channy started playing a couple of weeks ago,” Taresh said.

“Really? Channy?” Gap was surprised that the chattiest member of the crew had not said anything about it during a Council meeting.

“Yeah. She, um…” Taresh appeared to search for words. “She … has been very friendly lately.”

Gap laughed. “What are you talking about? Channy is always friendly. You know that.”

Taresh raised his eyebrows. “No, I mean she’s been very friendly.”

It finally sank in. Gap’s mouth dropped open. “Ohhhh. Interesting.”

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” Taresh said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m not trying to embarrass her. I just don’t know … how to handle it.”

“Do you like her? I mean … she’s very cute.” Gap suddenly felt uncomfortable about the conversation. In a strange way, he almost felt as if he was talking about his sister.

Taresh shrugged. “Yeah, she’s cool. I don’t know.”

A soft tone sounded in the room, announcing the end of the break. Both boys seemed relieved.

*   *   *

The door of the lift slid open, and Triana was immediately aware of a heaviness that blanketed the Control Room. She wondered for a moment if something had gone wrong, until she glanced to the far corner and recognized the figure who sat before a keyboard, his back to the room. He likely had not said a word, nor done anything to intentionally produce the feeling that swam about the room, yet Bon’s mere presence often cast a dense shadow. The word “brooding” had been used by more than one crew member when describing the tall Swede; the result was that he usually worked without interruption or small talk.

Triana crossed to the workstation and looked over Bon’s shoulder at the vidscreen before him. A jumble of code played out, countless strings that meant nothing to her, and, strangely enough, probably meant as little to Bon. He was a vessel, a container of information, a messenger of sorts. Yet the information he carried had saved the lives of everyone aboard Galahad.

Without knowing exactly how it worked, Bon was able to sync telepathically with the alien force they called the Cassini. Ageless and intellectually advanced beyond human comprehension, this powerful force occupied Titan, the methane-wrapped moon of Saturn. During the brief encounter as Galahad whipped past, Bon discovered that his mind was being used as a conduit to the alien entity. He was able to sink into a painful, frightening connection with the Cassini using a device known as the translator, whereupon data was transferred in a sort of mental uplink. The crew of Galahad had used that data to navigate its way out of the deadly Kuiper Belt, avoiding collision with the trillions of pieces of space debris that circled the edge of the solar system.

Each stage of the navigation, however, had required an individual uplink. Triana had grown concerned that Bon was somehow becoming addicted to the powerful connection. She knew that his link to the Cassini had altered him in some way, something that neither she nor he could describe. Even though his connections were agonizing, it seemed he was too eager to repeat the experience. Wary, and more than a little distrustful of the effects he was suffering, Triana chose to hold onto the translator herself, and only allow Bon to use it in her presence.

He had made another connection the previous evening, kneeling among the dirt and plants in Dome 2, where he felt the most at ease. Triana had watched the spasms take over, watched Bon’s head snap back, his eyes turn a terrifying shade of orange, and a mash of voices pour forth from his mouth. It meant that the Cassini had taken hold of him.

Although it lasted barely a minute, Triana always found herself shaking by the time it ended, often clutching herself with both arms, anxious for it to end, unable to relax until Bon’s normal shade of ice-blue seeped back into his eyes.

This would likely be the final set of instructions for navigating out of the belt. Already the number of rock chunks and ice balls had plummeted; what lay before them, other than a second ring called the Oort Cloud, was cold, empty space.

Truly empty, they hoped.

Triana placed her hand on the back of Bon’s chair. He responded by looking up at her, his usual blank expression revealing nothing.

“Well?” she said. “Finished?”

“Yeah,” Bon said, punching one final key with a flourish. “Not much of a change, really. I think we’re basically out.”

The words sent a shiver through her. The Kuiper Belt had been a two-month game of dodgeball, with destruction always a possibility. And yet, at the same time, it had also acted as a security blanket, preventing anything from outside the solar system from reaching them. Galahad had now rocketed into the great unknown.

“I’ll let the crew know,” she said, quickly regaining her composure. “Any other information from our friends?”

Bon shook his head. “No, just this final course correction. I got the feeling that they were washing their hands of us … for now. Of course,” he added, “it would probably be a good idea for me to check back in to make sure.”

Triana looked down at the Swede. On more than one occasion he had subtly suggested that she allow him to keep the translator. She tried to read his face, but came up empty. “Right,” she said quietly. “Well, we’ll talk about that.”

She turned and made her way to an empty workstation and sat down. “Roc,” she called out, “analysis of the space up ahead.”

The computer’s voice responded. “Dark and empty. Reminds me a lot of Gap’s head.”

“Be nice,” Triana said with a smile. “What about our course to Eos? How far off have we veered?”

“Not too bad, but it will take some more adjustments once we’re safely out of any danger of getting creamed by a stray boulder. Not that the super brains on Titan seem to care about our travel plans.”

Triana said, “I know, you don’t care for them. But they did get us through this mess safely. Can’t you show a little gratitude?”

“Hmph, if you say so.”

“All right, go ahead and pout because you weren’t the hero this time. Anything else to report?”

Roc was silent for a moment before answering. “Nothing. All systems on the ship are fine, the path ahead is pretty much clear, and I think I set a new record for solving Rubik’s Cube.”

“Congratulations.”

“Don’t think I don’t hear the sarcasm in your voice,” Roc said. “Let’s see you try it with no hands.”

Triana pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll be in Engineering if you need to brag about anything else.”

Bon had finished his work, and joined her as she walked toward the lift. She sensed that he wanted to say something to her, but kept quiet. They had just stepped into the lift when she heard Roc call out from the Control Room.

“Uh-oh.”

Triana put her hand up to stop the door from closing, then stepped back out of the lift. “What is it?”

Roc’s playful tone had evaporated. “There’s something up ahead. And it’s not a chunk of rock or ice.”

Triana’s gaze shot quickly up to the large vidscreen. It showed only inky blackness, with a panorama of softly twinkling stars. She squinted, trying to make out any unusual object.

“Correction,” Roc said. “Lots of somethings.”