4

The sound of an alarm had become much too common in Galahad’s Engineering section, and yet it still sent chills through the dozen crew members on duty during midday. Bryson Eberle glared at the control panel. He was less than ten minutes away from his scheduled lunch break, and an alarm—justified or false—didn’t fit into his plans. Besides, after staying up late to celebrate his seventeenth birthday with his closest friends, he was hoping for a quick, uneventful day.

He tapped a quick command into the system, and called on the ship’s computer. “Roc, it’s not the radiation shield this time. At least, I don’t think so.” A quick scan of the panel only caused Bryson to squint in confusion.

“It’s not the shield,” Roc said. “It’s a security warning.”

Bryson took a step back and again looked up at the panel. “What kind of security warning?”

“The kind where revolting creatures which have been casually circling our poor little spacecraft decide to take a rest and hitch a ride. If you need me to decipher that description for you, I’ll boil it down to four words: The vultures have landed.”

“How many?”

“You don’t want to know,” Roc said.

*   *   *

Lita stood with her hands on her hips, her head tilted back, staring up at the clear panels stitched across the domes covering Galahad’s Farms. Activity in the ship’s bustling Agricultural Center came to a screeching halt, and the dozens of workers assigned to the fields mimicked Lita’s stance, gazing upward. They shielded their eyes against the artificial sunlight radiating from the crisscrossing grids above, straining to see the dark triangles which suddenly dotted their sky.

It had taken only one shout from a perceptive farmworker to direct everyone’s attention skyward. Lita had barely stepped off the lift, on her way to Bon’s office, when the cry rang out. Now she felt a shudder pass through her body, the reaction that accompanied any direct view of the vultures.

During the first encounter with the cyborg scouts, it was unsettling enough when a solitary specimen had attached itself to Galahad’s domes. This time there were hundreds, if not more, spattered across the dome. Their menacing dark figures blotted out the starlight, a condition made even more chilling by their stillness, a stillness which contradicted the blazing speed with which they moved through space. To Lita it seemed taunting.

She realized that she’d been holding her breath as she gaped at the vultures. Regardless of their true function—and their intentions—Lita could not shake the feeling that they were killers.

Slowly, she made her way toward Bon’s office, now with the virtual weight of hundreds of alien soldiers pressing down upon her.

*   *   *

Triana silenced the warning tone in the Control Room and, with a strange coolness, encouraged everyone to remain calm. She threw a glance across the room to Gap, sitting at his Engineering station. His face had a distinct “what now?” look about it.

“I have a pretty good idea what this is all about,” Triana said. “Roc, let me guess: we have vultures clinging to the ship again.”

“Clinging?” the computer said. “More like coating. Practically all of them have glommed onto us. In case you forgot, that means thousands of them.”

Gap looked at the large vidscreen. “I wish they’d stayed on their side of the wormhole and left us alone.”

Triana chewed on the information for a moment. “Honestly,” she said, “I don’t think we need to worry about them on the ship. They’ll scour the outside, and when they’re satisfied with what they’ve learned, they’ll take off. Probably back home.”

Gap studied her face for a moment. “Satisfied with what they learn. They’re cataloging us now, aren’t they?”

“I think so, yes.” She shrugged. “It’s what they do.”

In the two hours since the Council meeting had broken up, she’d pondered exactly how to explain the vultures, and their exotic creators, when the time came to address the crew. The full meeting was scheduled for late that afternoon, which gave her time to attend to many of her duties, as well as some time to catch up on rest. The latter had been strictly prescribed by Lita as a condition of her release from Sick House.

But it would be much more difficult, she realized, to convince a jittery crew that there was no danger with the swarm plastered to the ship. She agreed with Gap: things would’ve been easier if they’d just remained on their side of the divide.

*   *   *

Lita tapped on Bon’s office door. He looked up from his desk long enough to take note of her presence, then turned his attention back to the pile of forms on the desk. He gave no greeting.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lita walked in and leaned against the back of a chair. She studied him quietly, taking note of his mussed hair and the thin line of perspiration that ringed his forehead. She immediately assumed that he’d connected with the Cassini before realizing that the translator lay stashed in a drawer in her room. He must have just returned from the fields.

“I’m gonna grab a late lunch,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “Wanna join?”

Bon shook his head. “Too much to do right now.”

“You need to eat.”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry, and when I have a moment to spare.”

Lita rocked back and forth for a few seconds. “Thought you might also like to talk about things.”

A sarcastic smile crept across his face. “No, you want to talk about things. So go ahead; say what you’d like to say. If it looks like I’m not paying attention, it’s because I’m not.”

“Of course,” Lita said. “The stoic, ever-serious Bon Hartsfield, who detests conversation because real emotions might accidentally leak out and ruin his reputation. Okay, I’ll talk, and you respond when you feel backed into a corner.”

She walked around the chair and sat down, her legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles. “I know that you’re happy to see Triana back, safe and sound.”

Bon didn’t react, and went on with his work.

“You probably haven’t noticed yet, but the ship seems to be covered in vultures. When the lights in the domes shut down tonight, you probably won’t see any stars, just black triangles with a soft, blue glow.”

Bon tapped in a couple of strokes on his keyboard, studied his vidscreen, and tapped some more.

Lita continued: “I’m curious about the meeting coming up this afternoon, aren’t you? I’m dying to find out more about Triana’s journey through the wormhole. I’m especially curious about the plans of the jellyfish now that we’ve made official contact.”

When there was no response, Lita asked: “Are you curious?”

With a sigh, Bon tossed his stylus pen onto the desk and fixed her with a stare. “No, I’m not really curious. I think it’s dangerous.”

“What part?”

“All of it,” he said. “And this worshipful attitude from everyone toward Triana makes no sense. People are celebrating that she’s back, but ignoring the fact that she brought aboard this ship one of the creatures responsible for killing Alexa.”

Lita looked back and forth between his eyes. “There are a lot of questions about Alexa’s death,” she said. “We don’t know if there was ever an intent to kill. In fact, I think it’s the last thing they meant to do.”

“You think? That’s your expert opinion?” Bon said. “And of course you base that on your detailed inspection of an alien creature that you know nothing about, programmed by an even more dangerous alien species that you know nothing about.” He paused and pushed back in his chair, lifting his feet up onto the edge of his desk. “Triana’s decision to take off in the first place was risky. Now she’s returned, and brought back a killer. Thousands of killers, actually. These are all lapses in judgment, which nobody is willing to say. I can’t believe that Triana would ever make that decision, but since she has, I’m going on the record as saying that it’s wrong.”

“You didn’t go on the record during the Council meeting,” Lita said.

“I wanted to hear what she had to say. But there’s nothing I’ve heard so far that condones her decision. It’s a red flag. A big red flag that says Triana might not be ready to lead just yet.”

Lita nodded. “That’s fine. You’re a Council member, which means you’re not only free to have an opinion, you’re encouraged to state that opinion if you believe it’s vital to the crew and the mission.”

“That’s right,” Bon said. “And since you’ve pressed the issue, I’ll tell you one more thing. Something about Triana is not right.”

Lita squinted at him, trying to understand what he was saying. “You mean physically, or mentally?”

“I can’t speak for her physical condition; you’re the doctor around here. But I’m telling you that there’s something not right about her. She came back from the other side … changed.”

“Well, of course she came back changed, Bon. She had a traumatic experience, and she’s seen things that no human has ever seen before. I’d be more worried if she showed no reaction at all.”

Bon shrugged. “Say what you want, but it’s more than that. She’s different.” He took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Watch her. Not like a doctor examining a patient, but as her friend. Really watch her, and see if she behaves like the Triana you knew before she went across. Then come back and talk to me about it.”

Lita waited a moment before nodding. “Okay, I’ll watch her.” She stood up and tapped the desk twice. “I’ll see you at the crew meeting. We can watch her together.”

She spun around and left the office. Bon kept his eyes on her until she fell out of sight. Then he reached up and wiped away a line of sweat.