27

Triana’s head pounded as she took the lift to the lower level. She remembered her dad fighting through a tough stretch of mysterious headaches that the doctors could never figure out, but they ended almost as abruptly as they’d begun. While her mother battled migraines in her teenage years, they ceased to be a factor in her twenties. Triana used to silently tell herself that her mother had defeated the headaches by ignoring them; her mother, she rationalized, made an art form of ignoring things.

But the throbbing in Triana’s head was clearly brought on by hearing a name she thought was consigned to her past: Dr. Fenton Bauer. The mad man who slipped aboard Galahad before its launch, and who came within minutes—and feet—from achieving his sinister goal, was back. Not in physical form, perhaps, but in objective. He’d wanted to cripple the ship and terminate the mission before it even reached the orbit of Mars. A victim of the insanity brought on by Bhaktul disease, as well as a festering relationship with his own son, Bauer had been foiled by a determined Council and the quick thinking of Triana Martell.

Her spirits, which had been so high just minutes earlier, sagged at the thought that he might succeed after all.

Mathias was waiting when she walked off the lift. “Where was it?” Triana said as they marched toward the open Storage Section.

“One of the bunks in the male dormitory, about five up from the floor. Couldn’t see his stuff from the floor, so we didn’t discover it until we were up on a ladder, examining the chambers. And there it was.”

The first few rooms were beehives of activity. Crew members were busy cataloging everything, from materials and tools, to the sleeping passengers. Several gave Triana a nod and kept on with their business. She moved to the base of the ladder and looked up.

“We left everything where we found it,” Mathias said. “I saw the last entry in the journal and called you, but we haven’t removed anything yet.”

“Thanks, Mathias,” Triana said. Biting her lip, she took hold of the ladder and pulled herself up. She glanced at the sleeping figures as she climbed past, noting how peaceful they appeared. Theirs was a dreamless world, devoid of pain, fear, and sadness. For a moment, gazing at them, she envied their innocence; they journeyed without the weight Triana felt, without the responsibility.

But the feeling soon passed. For they were helpless in this condition, and that was something Triana would never bargain for. Life on Galahad might be dangerous, but she much preferred to tackle the danger head-on, to rely on her wits and skills to survive.

When the next rung brought her to the fifth level, she felt a shiver pass through her. The cryogenic chamber was in disarray. The hastily arranged bunk, with its disheveled blanket, held a number of personal items. Triana saw a collection of assorted food wrappers, obviously smuggled in from the outside. A jacket, nearly identical to the ones worn by the Galahad launch team—and no doubt used to camouflage Bauer’s entry to the ship at the late hour—was wadded into a makeshift pillow. And the journal.

Mathias had left it near the ladder. Triana hesitated, unwilling to touch it, sickened by the hatred affiliated with it. Then, holding on to the ladder with one hand, she reached out and flipped the pages. The first entry that caught her eye was startling:

Zimmer is responsible for the fire which will consume Galahad. Through his insidious nepotism, he has brought shame upon his so-called “last chance to save humanity.” It is nothing more than a vehicle to continue the Zimmer line. It is salt in the wound to a father whose son has been rejected for another.

Bauer knew. He knew. Triana couldn’t believe that Zimmer would have told him, but the two men had, at one point, been close. Or at least Zimmer had thought they were close. After months and months of long, tension-filled days, it might have slipped out, perhaps during—

No. Dr. Zimmer knew the pain that racked Dr. Bauer, the torture he felt over a splintered relationship with his own son. This couldn’t possibly have come up, not even in one of their weary, late-night meetings.

It was beside the point. Somehow Bauer had discovered Zimmer’s secret, and the knowledge would have pushed him over the edge, made him vulnerable to Tyler Scofeld’s hostile rhetoric. And Triana saw now that it had driven him, in a Bhaktul-ravaged fit, to sneak aboard the spacecraft and plot its destruction.

She flipped through the pages, mostly assorted rants, with one devoted to celebrating his access to the ship. There were multiple entries alternating between fits of rage and self-satisfied comments on his late-night sabotage.

The unworthy star children will wake up in the morning to realize that this is truly a death ship. Damage to their crops is only the beginning. Access to the ship’s computer has been easier than anticipated and, as we planned from the beginning, there is no security to speak of. I will go down with the ship, but I’m ready. Bring on the darkness, darkness that can only mask the pain.

Dr. Bauer’s pain was a potent mixture of mental anguish, caused by the troubled relationship with his son, and the destructive physical torment rained down by Bhaktul. While she grimaced at the evil design, Triana at least understood the ingredients of Bauer’s insanity.

The last page of the journal—surprisingly legible, given the scientist’s deteriorated state—outlined one final, chilling vision.

Tonight it ends. Triana will learn the truth at midnight, and shortly afterward her short journey comes to an end, the only end this mission deserves. And, should things not go as planned, everything is in place to assure—with no chance of failure—the cataclysmic eruption of this vessel. Fire will cleanse the galaxy of this detestable human race and sterilize it before it contaminates another world.

Before I leave tonight I will settle on the date that will be the most fitting. Either the one-year anniversary of Galahad’s launch, or perhaps the next celestial alignment of the Earth, Saturn, and Eos. There would be something poetic in that, I believe.

Or, if this is to be a profoundly personal statement, there’s always Marshall’s nineteenth birthday, which falls close to both of these dates. I’ll decide which of the three resonates within me as the truth, and commence the steps necessary to ensure that Galahad leaves a blistering mark in the night skies over the doomed inhabitants of Earth.

Let it be done.

Triana stared at the calm, coherent reasoning of Fenton Bauer. It was hard to believe that the end result would be the murder of so many innocent people. He’d truly been insane.

She scrambled down the ladder, clutching the journal in one hand, and thanked Mathias for his work. In the corridor she stopped to inform Roc that an emergency Council meeting would take place in the Conference Room in twenty minutes. Foregoing his usual sarcastic banter, Roc agreed to circulate the news.

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later they began to arrive. Channy and Lita walked in together, concern etched on their faces. Gap followed moments later. He threw a quick glance at Triana, but she was absorbed in the data scrolling across her vidscreen. Bon was two minutes late, but that merely allowed Triana time to confirm her research.

When she was ready, she looked up from the screen and said: “We have a problem, and I won’t sugarcoat it. Dr. Bauer has apparently rigged this ship to blow up.”

She quickly shared the final entry from his journal. The Council members passed around the actual book, and Triana watched the sickening horror register on their faces.

“Marshall,” Lita said. “I take it that was his son?”

Triana nodded.

Gap laced his fingers together on the table. “This is incredible. He wanted us to fall into some sort of routine, to get happy and content … and then wham! With no warning whatsoever. That’s just plain evil.”

“Could he do this?” Channy asked, pushing the journal across to Gap. “I mean, could he have fixed something to blow up?”

Triana looked grim. “That’s one of the things I’ve been speaking about with Roc. Roc, you wanna explain this?”

“The bad news comes in three stages,” Roc said. “First, Dr. Bauer had unlimited entry to Galahad throughout the construction process, so he knew how to access every square inch. He could, quite literally, have arranged an explosion or breakdown on any part of the ship, and that includes within walls, floors, ceilings. For that matter, he could have rigged something within the guts of our ion-drive engines. We would need to practically dismantle the entire ship in order to isolate it. And remember, in space it doesn’t take much damage to create disaster.

“Secondly, we have no idea what to search for. I’m sure that he hasn’t relied on traditional explosives. Knowing the way his mind worked, in fact, he would have relished the fact that it was a creative ending.

“And finally,” the computer said, “we don’t know for sure that he’s even followed through with these musings. It’s possible that he never arranged for any of these, or that he ended up doing something completely different. There are too many unknowns.”

Bon was the last to scan the journal’s page.

“I’m assuming you’ve run the dates on these events?” he said with a cool gaze.

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Triana said. “Dr. Bauer listed three potential dates for our destruction. However, one of those dates has already passed. Allowing for time dilation, the celestial alignment he mentioned—Earth, Saturn, and Eos—would have occurred back home about seven weeks ago.”

She could see the shudders that passed through the Council members; she was sure it was the same spine-chilling sensation that she’d experienced as soon as the data popped up on her screen. To think that they’d sailed through a potential doomsday, oblivious to the vile schemes of a long-dead former colleague …

“That leaves two possible dates,” she said. “The one-year anniversary of our launch, which happens in exactly fourteen days. Or the nineteenth birthday of Bauer’s son, Marshall.” She shook her head. “And that is, believe it or not, in sixteen days.”

There was dead silence around the room. It was Roc who finally spoke up: “This should be a movie.”

Gap grunted. “Let’s wait and make sure it has a happy ending.” He looked at Triana. “This gives us time to get to Eos Three.”

“But no time to scout locations,” Lita said. “We’ll have to be ready to jump into the Spiders and pods and just…” She flung her arm into the air.

Channy looked between all of the Council members. “Don’t we need to find the best spot? I mean, we can’t just fall into orbit and bail out, can we?”

“I don’t see what choice we have,” Lita said. “Roc’s right, it would take months for us to find what Bauer’s done.” She paused, then looked hopeful. “I know we’re in some trouble here, but really, when you think about it, we’ve lucked out. Without Torrec and his vultures, we never would have known about the sabotage. We’d either be out in deep space, or…”

Gap finished the sentence. “Or orbiting Eos Three, celebrating our arrival, congratulating ourselves on pulling it off, and then lights out.” He shook his head. “Can you believe it?”

Lita looked thoughtful. “Is it fate that the Dollovit found us?”

Triana shrugged. “I’ll make a deal with you. Let’s get everything packed and ready to go, let’s get to the planet and get off this ship. Then, when we’re safely on land, when we’re breathing real air, then I’ll discuss the idea of fate with you all day long. Deal?”

Bon pushed back his chair. “As I see it, we’ll need to be off this ship in thirteen days. I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Without waiting for a formal dismissal he trudged out of the room.

“Concise as always,” Gap said. “But he’s right; I might even recommend a bigger cushion than that. For all we know Bauer might have screwed up his dates. Roc, can we do all of the braking procedures and make it into orbit in twelve days?”

“This is where I’m supposed to put on a happy face and tell everyone that there’s no problem,” the computer said. “But all of you need to know that twelve days is pushing it. In fact, I’m guessing that we’ll fall into orbit—as Channy put it—and scram that same day. I can’t offer any guarantees.”

Gap ran a hand through his hair. “We have a fighting chance. I guess we can’t ask for more than that.”

Triana dismissed the meeting, wishing everyone good luck. Once in the hall, Lita took her arm.

“Listen, we’re gonna make it. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I have no doubt,” Triana said. “After everything we’ve been through, I won’t allow anything to stop us now.”