28

Four days passed, and as each day flipped over to the next Triana couldn’t help but quietly calculate the amount of time they had left. It wouldn’t be long, she realized, before they measured it in hours.

Life on the ship became a blur. Crew members turned up the intensity level a few notches; even those who technically were on a break in their work rotation dove in, helping in each department. School was suspended, and physical workouts were cut back to brief cardio routines. Everyone eyed the final prize, knowing that their new home drew closer with each passing minute.

In the Domes, Bon oversaw the final harvesting and storage. Tools, machines, and assorted implements were packed into special transport containers. Cryostorage bins filled with thousands of seeds, stacked and forgotten in the recesses of Dome 1 before the launch, were checked and rechecked, then moved into position near the lifts. They would be the basis of the Eos colony’s initial food crops, all grown in specially assembled greenhouses to eliminate contamination of the planet’s native species.

Lita and Mathias finished the inventory of the Storage Sections and, with the help of some Engineering assistants, began preparing eighty-four slumbering passengers for their trip to Eos Three. Lita’s capable assistants, meanwhile, took care of packing up Sick House.

Gap ran endless tests and calculations from his station in the Control Room. Triana stayed out of his way, checking in occasionally and offering to help should he need it. They were joined on the deck every few hours by Bon, who silently took his seat and triggered the course changes to safely guide Galahad through the jumbled space rubble of the system’s outskirts. There was little conversation while he sat there, eyes glowing, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Triana did her best to keep her mind focused on the mission and its successful completion. But for the few brief minutes where she found herself working next to Bon, she couldn’t help but flash forward to their new colony. Once they were no longer confined to this limited space aboard the ship, would she see him as often? Would the backbreaking work that loomed in the next few months—or few years—keep Bon isolated, buried in his work, and unavailable?

Of course they were ridiculous thoughts. Bon was isolated and unavailable on Galahad; why should it be any different on Eos Three? She pushed aside the daydreams and burrowed back into her work.

Day five in Eosian space began early. Triana walked into the Dining Hall before 6 A.M., anxious to grab some oatmeal and fruit before composing the latest update for the crew. Sitting in her usual spot in the back of the room, she greeted the early risers who stumbled in, most of them blurry-eyed but still in good spirits. Dr. Bauer’s threat was a dark blanket above them, but somehow seeing the finish line kept their heads up and their motors on high.

Triana took a sip of juice and flipped open Bauer’s journal. She’d surveyed it once to make sure no other surprises were imminent, but since then she’d locked it away, reluctant to allow his toxic attitude to contaminate her. Now curiosity took over and she gave herself a few minutes to thumb through his rants.

They primarily echoed the same sentiments over and over, and often came back to the same word: unfair. But it was the deranged scientist’s comments about Dr. Zimmer that tugged at her. She found herself back at the bitter passage that had originally caught her attention:

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.

So many strange vibrations resonated around the issue of Zimmer’s child, but now she began to interpret Bauer’s cryptic comment.

A father whose son has been rejected for another.

She looked at it again.

For another.

Not just another teenager. Bauer specifically said one son for another. But Triana had been so sure that it was Alexa …

Sure? Was there anything she could be sure about on this mission? And what could she believe in the scrawled rant of a madman?

There was something else about Dr. Zimmer that continued to tickle the edges of her mind. Something he’d said to her was the key to this, but she couldn’t filter out the static surrounding it.

“Our fearless leader, deep in thought,” came the voice above her.

She looked up to see the familiar dark hair, dark eyes, and scar that topped a wolf’s smile.

“Good morning, Merit,” she said, casually closing the journal and applying the most pleasant tone she could muster. He stood before her without a tray. “No breakfast for you?”

“I only eat twice a day, and never in the morning,” he said, sitting in a chair at the table next to her. “I know it’s supposed to be the most important meal of the day, but the thought of food this early makes me retch.”

“I heard that you might have had a touch of flu or something when we slipped through the Channel, too,” Triana said. “Feeling better, obviously.”

Merit’s smile faltered for a second, then he recovered. “Good old Katz. What a friend.” He looked at a group of crew members who were working their way through the food line. “Listen, you’re busy, time is running short, so I’ll make this quick. I want to let you know that a few of us have reached a decision about Eos.”

Triana pushed her tray back and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Uh-huh. In your address to the crew you said that the Council was in favor of Eos Three as our new home.”

“Yes…”

“But you also made it clear that anyone could reach out to you should they opt for another course of action.”

Even through the heavy-handed speech dialogue that Merit preferred, Triana instantly saw where this was going. “Let me guess: you want us to stop and let you off at number four.”

He leveled another smile at her. “Not by myself, of course.”

“And how many recruits have you rounded up this time?” Triana said.

“There are nineteen of us. Which means we’ll need one of the extra pods that the Dollovit have provided, but very little in the way of equipment or rations. It’s not like you’re dividing the provisions in half.”

Triana stared hard at him. “Tell me, why are you doing this?”

“I already told you,” Merit said. “I’m a water freak. How do I pass up a planet that’s practically all water?”

“Right. So it has nothing to do with the fact that the Council will be a world away, leaving you the ruler of your own kingdom?”

He adopted a comical look of indignation. “Triana, please! There are eighteen other people involved here, you know. They want to go just as badly as I do. You wouldn’t turn them down just because you feel scorned, would you?”

“It’s not up to me, Merit. If there’s a request to divide the few resources we have for colonization, it’s a Council decision. I know that aggravates you, but it’s the governmental process aboard Galahad.”

“Okay,” he said, standing. “Talk it over, and let us know. And please, if you have specific reasons why you won’t follow through with your promise, let us know that, too.”

He gave a mock half-salute and paraded out of the room.

*   *   *

“They’ll never survive,” Lita said. “Nineteen people left alone to tame an entire planet? It’s ridiculous.”

The other Council members listened with interest, but only Channy nodded agreement.

“His chances are the same as ours,” Gap said.

“Oh, c’mon, Gap,” Lita said. “Two hundred thirty stand a much better chance, and you know it.”

He shrugged. “I disagree. It’ll be easier for them to get shelter put up at first, and easier to feed nineteen. In some respects I think he’d have a better chance than us.”

Triana had laid out Merit’s request, and could have predicted the individual Council member’s reactions. She asked Bon to voice his thoughts for the record.

“As long as the supplies are proportionally split, I have no issues with him leaving. I think that most of the crew would feel the same way.”

“Good riddance is what you mean,” Channy said. She turned to Triana. “I don’t really care for Merit either, but it seems almost cruel to let him take some crew members and try to—”

“Gullible crew members,” Gap interjected.

“… and try to build something on Eos Four.”

“Channy’s right,” Lita said. “We can’t allow personal dislike to sway our decision.”

Gap drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “We sat right here, with the crew watching and listening, and told them that if they wanted to leave, they could. Are you only saying this now because it’s Merit?”

Triana stepped in. “Yes, I did say that to the crew. But before we vote on this, let’s make sure we have all of the facts. First of all, Roc, do we even have the time to do this?”

“That’s probably up to Dr. Bauer,” Roc said. “With all of the unknown factors, we could be fine indefinitely, or we could blow up before I finish this sentence. Whew, made it. Or maybe before I finish this sentence. Okay, now maybe before—”

“Fine, you’ve made your point,” Triana said. “Assuming for the moment that he chose the earlier date, and assuming that he got it right: how does that affect our ability to drop off passengers around Eos Four?”

“Since we’re using that fourth planet as a component of our braking maneuver, it really isn’t a factor. Once we swing around the planet, we can flick anything out the door. Granted, we might want to slow down just a bit more than we’d planned, which might add a few hours, perhaps as much as a day, to our arrival time at Three. I calculate that, even with a slower transit from Four to Three, we should have a good thirty-six to forty-eight hours to evacuate the ship.”

“See,” Lita said. “If we slow down to let them off, we’re pushing ourselves up against a deadline that wouldn’t just be inconvenient; it could be deadly.”

“Right,” Channy said. “So I say they stay with us.”

Gap shook his head. “Adding a few hours makes no difference. We’ll be completely packed and ready to go the minute we’re in orbit around Three. We don’t need an extra day to think about things. If they want to go, they should go.”

Bon simply nodded agreement when Triana looked down the table. She stalled for time by walking over to get a cup of water. By the time she returned to the table—and to the curious looks from the Council members—she knew how she would break the tie.

“I vote to honor the agreement I made to the crew,” she said. “And Lita, it’s not from an insecure desire to get rid of Merit. Although he’s very skilled at verbalizing his positions, I’d make the same decision for any other persuasive crew member.”

She sat down and ticked off some points on her fingers. “He has probably the same chance we do on an alien surface. We’re making an educated guess about our final destination, but for all we know we could land en masse on number three and find carnivorous dragonflies waiting for us.

“Next, we’re flying on borrowed time as it is. Roc might have been obnoxious in his description, but his assessment of the situation is right: we could have already been blown to bits.

“And third, remember what this mission was all about in the first place. We were chosen to represent the human race, and to offer our species a chance at survival. Well, we have not one, but two planets capable of supporting life as we know it, and it probably makes sense to put down roots on both. It might double our chances for survival. It’s essentially one of the arguments that Torrec made when requesting the embryos.”

Triana said to Lita: “Your points, as always, are thoughtful and appreciated. But we’ll grant Merit and his friends their wish.”

Lita let out a sigh. “It breaks my heart, but okay. I’d like to add one final thing, though, and on this I won’t back down. They take none of the crew members in suspended animation, and they keep their hands off the embryos. Can we agree on that?”

“I don’t think any of us would argue with that,” Triana said. The rest of the Council members concurred.

“Roc,” Triana said, “we need to begin working under the assumption that Bauer’s next anniversary date is our deadline, if you’ll pardon the expression. With that in mind, let’s begin a countdown and have everything ready to go by zero hour, with a safety cushion if possible.”

“Done,” Roc said. “As of right now, you have eight days, seven hours, twenty-two minutes. Factoring in your cushion, the last person off the ship should take the elevator down in seven days, nineteen hours. And please, turn off all the lights before you go and make sure your curling irons are unplugged.”

Another Council meeting disbanded. As they stood up, Lita left all of them with a sobering thought.

“We should all remember what seed we planted today with this decision. It would be interesting to pop in a hundred years from now to see what has grown out of it.”