22

The Spider’s specially crafted engines were pushed to their maximum power and thrust, but to Gap it seemed as if the outer skin of Galahad was crawling past. Something had gone terribly wrong in Sick House. How was it possible for there to be—as Roc had put it—a breach in the containment vessel? What had happened to Alexa?

And what had happened to the other vultures?

Gap watched the bay doors loom larger and began the subtle shifts necessary to align the small craft for entry. Roc would take over in just a minute and finish the job of docking.

He and Mira had barely spoken after the blinding flight of the vulture. He had, of course, expected the thing to break away once the oxygen hit, but was still amazed at the speed. If, as they had theorized, the light display was an indicator of communication between the beings, then it likely explained what had triggered the breakout in Sick House. In fact, he began to grow concerned that perhaps they had inadvertently provoked the vulture into aggression.

He could only hope that no one had been hurt.

“Taking over guidance,” Roc said. Gap sat back and, like Mira, became a passenger and spectator. Within a few minutes the Spider was securely docked, the bay door closed, and the large hangar began to pressurize. Gap unbuckled his safety harness and started on the checklist to shut down the Spider. No further calls had come in from Sick House, or from Triana; that could mean that things were either fine and under control, or that there was a crisis under way.

Suddenly, the ship lurched. Without the arms of his chair to keep him in place, Gap knew he would have been thrown to the floor. At the same time, the lights in the Spider bay, and in the small metal craft itself, flickered off briefly, then back on again. For a span of about five seconds Gap felt himself assaulted physically: his stomach twisted and turned, and he barely kept himself from throwing up. He also believed he was on the verge of passing out. His vision clouded and his ears popped, as if he had quickly dropped several hundred feet. He gripped the arm of his chair and closed his eyes until the sensation passed.

Once he felt back to normal, he turned to check on Mira. She had not yet unbuckled her harness, and it was holding her in place. Yet she was slumped forward, her chin almost against her chest and her hair spilling into her lap. Gap was relieved to see that she was breathing.

“Mira,” he called out. She stirred slightly, and a soft grunt escaped from her mouth. He called her name again.

“What … was that?” she uttered.

“Are you okay?” he said, climbing from his seat and kneeling next to her. He pulled her back against her seat. She opened her eyes wide, trying to focus, then blinked hard several times. When she turned to look at him, it was the gaze of someone who had been shell-shocked.

“I think I’m okay,” she said, then repeated her question: “What was that?”

Gap looked out the window into the bay, which had finished pressurizing. He saw two crew members enter from the hangar’s control room and begin walking toward the Spider; they seemed a bit shaky themselves. “I have no idea. Let’s find out.” He called out to the computer. “Roc, you still with us?”

“This is extraordinary,” Roc said. “The vultures—or their creators, which is more likely—just gave us another lesson in how little we know about the universe and its power.”

“What happened?” Gap said. “Did they attack us?”

“Not at all. The best way to describe it, I think, is that they took the expressway home.”

Gap sighed. “Can you be more specific?”

“I can try, but I’m still putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Once the leader bolted from his place on the outside of our ship, he immediately summoned the others. I was able to follow their movements, and I tracked them as they fell into formation. Once they were together, they formed a rough circle. That’s where the fun began. The light show we saw before was nothing compared to this.”

“So, that shock we felt,” Gap said. “Was it a wave of dark energy communication?”

“Oh, no,” Roc said. “It was much more than that. Apparently our guests pooled their dark energy engines and used them to warp time and space for their own uses.”

Gap said, “What does that mean? What did they do?”

“The shock wave we felt was caused by the opening and closing of what physicists have nicknamed a wormhole.”

Mira let out a gasp. “A wormhole? I can’t believe it! I’ve read so much about them. There was a wormhole right here?”

“That’s correct,” Roc said. “Briefly, anyway. Somehow the vultures summoned it, it opened up, they disappeared inside, and then it was gone. All in a matter of seconds.”

“Incredible,” Gap said. “Now the question is: Where did they go?”

“And that’s something we can’t answer,” Roc said. “The word ‘infinite’ might get thrown around a lot, but in this case the possibilities are truly infinite. Scientists have always believed that wormholes could exist, but until now it’s been pure speculation. For instance, it’s always been assumed that the heart of a massive black hole contained a wormhole.”

Mira nodded. “My aunt did a lot of research in that area, which is why I’m so fascinated by them. She believed that there might be two kinds of wormholes: those that connected one point of the universe to another, and those that connected to another universe altogether.” She winked at Gap. “Those were always my favorites: doorways into completely different universes. But my aunt thought that the most likely answer was that they simply bent time and space within our own universe, and acted like shortcuts to get from one side to the other.”

“And,” Roc said, “if the vultures’ creators have learned how to manipulate that power through the use of dark energy, then they would be free to move about wherever—and whenever—they liked.”

Gap rubbed his forehead. “I agree that this is all fascinating, but we’re going to have to figure out how it affects us right now.”

Roc said, “I agree. But there’s more to it than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have to not only figure out how it affects us now,” the computer said, “but remember that if the vultures left us this easily, they could just as easily return. With help.”

*   *   *

Was it possible to cry yourself out? Could you break down and weep to the point where your body couldn’t supply a single additional tear? Channy lay on her bed and wondered if this sudden dry spell simply meant that she had expelled every possible tear in the last hour. Her eyes were killing her, and she felt more drained from the crying than from any of the most strenuous workouts she had subjected herself to.

A few minutes earlier she had been thrown to the floor, the lights briefly flickered out, and she had felt a wave of nausea. She decided that it must have something to do with the vultures, but she was in no position to call Triana—or anyone else on the Council, for that matter—to get more details.

She was alone, thankful that Kylie was out with friends. Her pillow was damp, so she turned it over and plopped back down, then stared at the ceiling. Her mind had raced out of control since Taresh had left the Rec Room, investigating every possible course of action: talk to him again, avoid him, reason with him, act depressed and hope that he felt sorry for her, act happy and make him long to be with her, surround herself with friends, keep to herself for a while, laugh, cry …

Now, during what she assumed must be a recovery break for her nervous system, she began to relive all of their encounters over the past few weeks. She tried to imagine how things would have turned out differently if she had only …

But that was nonsense, and she knew it. Things hadn’t turned out differently, and it was insane to keep drifting into a fantasy world where everything was rosy.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, her mind summoned a vision of her older sister, D’Audra. Vivacious and active, D’Audra had always been an inspiration and role model for Channy during their childhood in England. A bizarre accident had paralyzed D’Audra, and her little sis had watched in admiration as she toiled every day to rehab her injured spine, to the point that she could finally take steps again. She had been determined to work even harder and make a full recovery, even after the doctors had sadly shaken their heads and murmured things such as “no hope,” and “never walk again.” D’Audra had surprised them all.

Except Channy. She believed that her sister could overcome anything, especially following a heart-to-heart talk they had shared late one night, just one week after the accident.

They were alone in D’Audra’s room at the hospital. Their mother had stepped out to talk with the nurses, and Channy had started to sob at her sister’s bedside. “It’s my fault,” she said. “I made you go to the swimming hole; you never would have slipped and fallen if it hadn’t been for me. The doctors say you might never walk again, and it’s all my fault.”

“Hush,” D’Audra said. “That’s nonsense. We both wanted to go, and I was having as much fun as you were. This was just an accident, Channy. And besides, of course I’ll walk again.”

Channy stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t know if I could be as brave as you are. How do you do it?”

D’Audra smiled. “You accept.”

A puzzled look crossed Channy’s face. “What do you mean? If you accept what the doctors say—”

“No,” D’Audra said. “I accept what has happened, not what others think is going to happen.” She stroked her younger sister’s arm. “See, many people rage against what has happened to them, and refuse to accept it or believe it. They relive things over and over again, hoping they can somehow change what has happened. But you can’t do that, and to spend so much of your life hoping that the past can somehow magically change only robs you of spirit.

“So I accept what has happened to me. I’m at peace with what fate has thrown at me. But I have some say in what happens from now on; I decide whether I live with the current consequences, or work to shape them my own way.”

Channy placed a hand over her sister’s. “You accept the past, and shape the future.”

“That’s right,” D’Audra said. “Crying over the past doesn’t make it go away, and it doesn’t fix what has broken. Instead, focus on where you are now, and what you can do to make things better.”

Now, years later, Channy stared at the ceiling in her room on Galahad and remembered that conversation as if it had just taken place. She thought about her sister’s attitude, about how it might pertain to her own situation.

She couldn’t affect Taresh’s decision; she couldn’t magically transport back to their meetings and somehow alter what had taken place.

But she could accept his decision and be at peace with it. Who knew what the future might bring for them? They might never be together … or they might be.

In an instant she felt a calm sensation sweep over her. Her feelings for Taresh would not change, and she was glad; they felt good, and made her feel good about herself. She would dry her tears, accept what had happened, and look forward to what might come tomorrow. Perhaps their final chapter had yet to be written, but in the meantime she would go back to enjoying life.

She pushed herself up and sat on the edge of her bed. Wiping away the last remaining tear on her chin, she stared into space and thought about D’Audra again. Somewhere, billions of miles away, her sister was more than likely smiling … and walking.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of Triana’s voice on the intercom. “All Council members report to Sick House immediately. Repeat, all Council members to Sick House.”

*   *   *

They had barely lifted Alexa onto the bed in the hospital ward of Sick House when the space-time warp had rocked the ship. Triana, Lita, and all four of the crew members assisting them had fallen onto the floor, dazed.

Now, with their recovery complete, and the call put out to the other Council members, Triana and Lita embraced and wept. As much as she felt that she needed to be with Lita at this moment, Triana also knew that her position as Council Leader demanded that she investigate the cause of the powerful jolt.

She moved into the next room and sat at Lita’s desk. For the next two minutes she heard Roc’s explanation of the vultures and the wormhole they had created. She asked questions, but there were few answers so far. What they did know was that the vulture in Sick House was destroyed, and the other six had vanished.

Triana’s gaze unconsciously roamed about the room as she listened, until it settled upon Alexa’s desk. She felt her lip tremble, and another sob choked from her.

The door from the corridor opened and Channy took a few steps in. She stopped when she saw Triana, and looked to the floor. Triana sat still, her hands in her lap, and waited. Channy took a few more steps into the room, and appeared about to speak when the door opened again and Gap rushed inside.

He stood next to Channy, out of breath from his sprint from the Spider bay, and said to Triana: “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

The question caused another tear to slip down Triana’s face. She wiped it away and tried to collect herself. “We’ll wait for Bon. He should be here any minute, I hope.” She made eye contact with Gap, who studied her face. Channy, whose own eyes seemed raw from crying, seemed to visibly weaken, as if she anticipated the news.

Lita joined them, wiping at her eyes. At that moment the door opened again, and Bon crept inside. He took one look at Lita and Triana and fell back against the wall.

“No,” he said. “No.”

Triana stood, and, with Lita, walked over to join the other Council members. She looked each of them in the eye, and said softly: “Alexa is dead.”