The Cassini Code Page 7

Bon didn’t answer, but instead glared down at him as if ready to continue the fight. Merit grinned again, then slowly clambered to his feet. He dabbed at his bloodied mouth one more time, then looked at Bon.

  “Actually, you’ve done me a huge favor, Bon. This,” he said, holding up the bloody finger, “could come in very handy. Thank you.”

  He spun around and walked quickly out of the office. Bon watched through the large window as Merit strolled down the path toward the lift.

  “Great,” Bon muttered.

  Wait a minute. I wasn’t paying close attention here. Did Bon just punch that guy in the mouth? Really?

  Hey, you can forget the “Why didn’t you stop him, Roc?” comments. First of all, what did you expect me, a computer, to do about it? It’s not like I could step between them.

  And secondly, I’ve seen Bon with his shirt off, and I wouldn’t have stepped between them anyway. As one girl in Channy’s aerobic class said, “Hubba hubba.”

  And thirdly, he would have just punched me in my sensor and THEN punched Merit in the mouth.

  And fourthly…well, there is no fourthly. That’s enough. Except that I’m pretty sure this is all getting very sticky.

  9

  “I’m sick of this,” Gap said to himself.

  He stood in front of the same panel in the Engineering section, watching as the sensors told him that the heating elements on Level Six were acting up yet again.

  The intercom buzzed. “Gap,” came Channy’s voice. Without waiting to hear another word, Gap reached over and clicked it off. This time his patience for the fun and games was at zero.

  He ran a hand through his short, spiky hair and exhaled loudly, mixing in a sort of primal grunt with it, eliciting a giggle from behind him. Turning, he found Hannah standing there, an amused smile on her face. They had made a tentative date for breakfast together in the Dining Hall, but Gap had been sidetracked by the latest breakdown in the heating system.

  “That,” she said, “is the sound of utter and total frustration.”

  “Which is exactly what I’m feeling. If I could take a wrench and bash this thing…” His voice trailed off, before returning in a shout. “Roc, this is a not a good use of my time!”

  “I know,” the computer said. “Think of how many laps you could be making right now on the Airboard track.”

  “Oh, very funny,” Gap said. He looked back at Hannah who was stifling another giggle. “Don’t encourage him, okay?”

  “Well,” Roc said, “if you function better without the gentle infusion of wit, I can certainly adopt a stern, brooding attitude.” His computer voice lowered an octave. “How’s this? Doom, doom, death, death, aaarrrgggghhhhhh.”

  This time Hannah’s giggle escaped her mouth. Gap closed his eyes and shook his head, covering his face with one hand. From behind the hand he muttered, “I don’t need this. I swear I don’t need this.”

  “Poor Gap,” Roc said in his normal voice, the one that mimicked that of his creator, Roy Orzini. Roy had not only developed the world’s most sophisticated computer, but he had taken great pains to make sure that the artificial brain incorporated Roy’s voice and—more importantly—his personality. Gap had verbally sparred with the short, funny man for months before the launch, and had since found that he could do the same thing through Roc.

  Gap spread his fingers in order to peek through at Hannah. “If you want to go ahead to the Dining Hall, I’ll try to join you as soon as I can.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ll wait here with you. Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t know how.” He lowered the hand and turned to look at Roc’s sensor. “I mean, if our resident genius comedian can’t help…”

  “Okay, Mr. Serious,” Roc said. “I can’t stand to watch you pout, so I recommend a complete re-boot of the entire system, then a re-program for Level Six that bypasses its Balsom clips and runs the level’s heating through the clips on Four and Five.”

  “What good will that do, except to maybe burn out the clips on those other levels?”

  “That’s not likely. The clips can take on almost two hundred percent of their engineered specs, and we’re talking only about a fifty percent increase. This is just a short-term fix to pinpoint whether it actually is Mr. Balsom’s fault. Besides, remember that this was your idea in the first place.”

  Gap chewed on this for a moment. “And what would the long-term fix include?”

  “If it turns out to be the Balsom clips on Six,” Roc said, “and if replacing them doesn’t work, then we can re-program the entire ship to run on the other five levels’ systems, sharing the load equally. That will hardly put a dent in their capacity. And, if that still worries you, which, knowing you, is more than likely—”

  “Oh ha ha,” Gap said.

  “Then we could even lower the overall ship temperature by one degree, and that should bring everything back to normal.”

  “One degree would do that?”

  “One degree.”

  Gap’s eyes unfocused as he tried to work the math in his head. When he heard Hannah clear her throat, he looked at her.

  “Uh, I think he’s right,” she said meekly. “It wouldn’t take much.” Hannah was, without question, one of the best scientific minds on the ship, so Gap knew better than to doubt her.

  “Okay, I believe you guys,” he said. “I guess the hardest part would be explaining it to the crew so that they don’t freak out. I can handle Channy’s jokes, but some people might use this to stir up trouble.” He didn’t mention Merit Simms by name, but that was certainly the first thing that had popped into his head. He could only imagine the look on Triana’s face if he had to break the news to her.

  The intercom buzzed again, and this time, before Gap could reach to shut it off, Channy’s voice seeped out. “Gap, you’ve got to hurry up here to Level Six, quickly!”

  This didn’t sound like a joke. What could have happened now? “What is it?” he said. “You’ve got to see this, Gap. There are eight tiny reindeer walking around up here, convinced that this is their home.” There came an immediate burst of laughter from everyone in the room with Channy. Fuming, Gap punched off the intercom.

  “Um…maybe I will meet you in the Dining Hall,” Hannah said with a smile. She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then strolled out of the Engineering section, obviously holding back a laugh.

  Triana rubbed her hands together as she walked into Sick House. She knew that Gap was furiously working on the heating problem, and she also knew that he was likely getting enough input without her bothering him. Instead, she answered a call from Lita to stop by the ship’s clinic. Lita wouldn’t elaborate over the intercom, but Triana could tell from her friend’s voice that it was something she should do at once.

  “A little chilly, huh?” Lita said from her desk.

  “It’s probably worse for you,” Triana said, plopping down in the available chair. “Not too many days in Veracruz like this. Makes those of us from Colorado a little homesick, though.” She glanced around the room, which was empty and quiet. “Where’s Alexa?”

  Lita chuckled. “Would you believe it? I give her all that praise in the Council meeting, then you sent her a personal note of thanks for her hard work, and today she called in sick. Figures, huh?”

  “Sick? Alexa? What’s wrong with her?”

  “Just a stomachache, but bad enough that I told her to lay low for the rest of the day.”

  “Well,” Triana said, leaning back so that the chair tipped onto its two rear legs, “I won’t razz her about it. What’s this, her first-ever sick day?”

  “Yeah. And you should have heard her apologizing. You’d have thought that it was her tenth straight day, or something. But that’s not why I called you down here.”

  “No, I didn’t think so. What’s up?”

  Lita moved a couple of items around on her desk, in what appeared to Triana to be a stalling tactic. There was something that she apparently wasn’t anxious to share.<
br />
  “I had three people stop by Sick House today. One was Nung; you remember him. Very cool guy from Thailand. Nothing major there, just a little readjustment in his meds. Then our usual monthly Airboarding injury. Ariel actually took a pretty good spill today.”

  Triana raised her eyebrows. “I heard she was one of the best.”

  “Listen, that’s a crazy sport. I don’t care how good you are, you’re one pulse away from wiping out. Remember what happened to our boy Gap? He’s the champ, and he still broke his collarbone.”

  “Is Ariel okay?”

  “Bruised ribs. She actually landed on her board.”

  Triana winced. “Okay, it doesn’t take a detective to figure out that I’m sitting here because of your third visit. Wanna fill me in?”

  Lita stopped fidgeting and looked directly into Triana’s face. “About an hour ago I treated Merit Simms for a bloody lip.”

  Slowly, Triana’s chair rocked forward, back onto all four legs. “What?”

  “Uh-huh. He got clocked today.”

  “By?”

  “Take one guess. Who would be the most likely candidate on the ship to punch someone?”

  Triana dropped her head and stared at the floor, her elbows resting on her knees. “Bon.”

  “Yep. I guess they had some sort of confrontation up in Bon’s office. The way Merit tells it, Bon lost his temper and just slugged Merit, and all Merit was doing was talking with him. That’s his story, anyway.”

  “I’m sure he provoked Bon, but that’s not too hard to do, is it?”

  “You’re right about that. But it wasn’t even necessary for Merit to come see me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lita shrugged. “I mean, his lip had already stopped bleeding, and it wasn’t all that bad. He still wanted it cleaned up, and a tiny bandage put on it. I told him that wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. I know he’s not worried about infection.”

  Triana shook her head. “No, that’s not why he came here. He wants a record of the incident. He wants it in your files that he was assaulted by Bon, and proof that there was an injury.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “Yeah,” Triana said. “It all makes sense, really. He’s building a case, trying to recruit as many people as possible. I’m sure he went to see Bon with one intention, and that was to goad Bon into either hitting him, or shoving him, or something.” She sighed. “And now he has another piece of information to use against us.”

  Lita leaned forward onto her desk. “Well, he’s not wasting much time using it, either.”

  “What?”

  “Looked at your email lately?” When Triana shook her head, Lita turned her vidscreen around to face the Council Leader.

  “Check out the mass email that Mr. Simms sent out five minutes after he left Sick House.”

  Triana scanned the note.

  Many of you have expressed an interest in finding out more about the proposal to turn the ship around and head back to Earth. I’ve had numerous emails from concerned crew members who are afraid that our next dangerous encounter will be the one that kills all of us. I obviously share your fears, and have begged the Council to at least hear our arguments. They have refused. If you are as worried about this as I am, then I invite you to join me for an informal discussion on the subject. This will be a peaceful gathering of facts and opinions, and a chance for your voice to be heard. Tomorrow evening, at 7:30, in the Dining Hall. I welcome your attendance, and your feedback.

  Merit Simms

  Triana read it a second time, and felt her shoulders sag. Terrific. Another chance for Merit to distort the facts and paint a warped image of their condition.

  And with a war wound, to boot. Nothing like playing the sympathy card, which was evidently in his plans all along. There was no doubt now that to underestimate Merit Simms would be a terrible mistake.

  10

  It felt warm, almost tropical, and needed only the sound of birds mixed in with the crash of waves on a beach to complete the aura. Except this tropical air wasn’t near the equator on Earth; it was encased in a large geodesic dome that sat atop the most impressive spacecraft ever assembled, and it nurtured the lifeblood of the Galahad mission: the Farms.

  Through special planning and careful cultivation, the Farms on the ship could encourage the growth of fruits and vegetables in a close proximity that could never be mimicked on Earth. Within fifty feet of Dome 2, for example, could be found examples of plant life that would never be found within hundreds, or thousands, of miles back home. It was part of the amazing engineering marvel that was built to safely carry 251 passengers to a new land of opportunity.

  Bon stood in a freshly turned plot of soil, with stakes and colored tags that identified the plants which would soon be surprising the hungry crew with plates of various melons and berries. He had long ago given up announcing the release dates in advance, since the clamor of the crew distracted Bon’s workers and took their eye off the prize. That lack of focus often translated to a tongue-lashing from a certain Swede.

  The good news? Once you experienced a chewing-out by Bon you did everything in your power to make sure it never happened again. On this particular afternoon he was face-to-face with a sixteen-year-old from Portugal named Marco, who stared at the dirt around his feet, only occasionally making eye contact with Bon. It was obvious from Marco’s body language that he was anticipating a verbal barrage.

  “And what, exactly, is the standard procedure,” Bon said, “when you find a section, like this one, that has been overlooked during the sowing process?”

  Marco kicked at a dirt clod. “I know.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “File an immediate report, and…and contact you.”

  Bon nodded, his usual scowl firmly in place. “And you did neither.”

  Another kick, another clump of dirt sprayed outward. “I thought that it might not be too late,” Marco said. “So…so I…”

  “So you took it upon yourself to begin a new round of planting and fertilization,” Bon said. “You didn’t even take the time to fill out the forms hanging in my office.”

  “I filled them out.”

  “Not until the next morning.”

  Marco put his head back down and glanced at the purple tag attached to the nearest metal stake, his handwriting clearly listing the information for this row of melons. He waited for the volume of Bon’s berating to intensify, but instead was surprised by the silence that surrounded them for a minute. When he looked back up, Bon was staring at him.

  “You know what this means?” Bon said.

  Marco shook his head.

  “It means,” Bon said, “that you’re one of the few people around here who knows what he’s doing. Thank you.”

  For a moment Marco remained still, his mind trying to decipher the words. A puzzled look crossed his face. Bon reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “All I’ve ever wanted is a group of workers who didn’t wait around to be told what to do. You knew what needed to be done, and you didn’t waste time waiting for me to tell you to do it. So, thank you again.”

  A hesitant smile worked its way across Marco’s lips. “Really?”

  “Really. I have plenty to do without having to baby-sit every single row of every single crop. I’ll remember this when it’s time for evaluations. Now you probably have something fun to do this evening. Go ahead and get out of here, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Marco’s smile widened. “Thanks, Bon. Have…have a good night.” He turned and sprinted down the path toward the lift.

  Bon knelt to examine the soil, making sure that it was getting the vital moisture it needed this early in the growing stage, and was startled by the voice behind him.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

  He spun around to find a grinning Gap about ten feet away. “Tell anyone what?”

  Gap took a few steps toward him. “About your soft side. I was cringing
, waiting for the explosion, and I don’t even work up here. I can imagine how Marco was feeling.”

  “Do you always eavesdrop on private conversations?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Gap said. “I’ve been looking all over the Domes for you, and just happened to walk up while you were talking to Marco. Thought I’d just stand back and wait until you were finished.”

  Bon turned back to concentrate on the new melon seedlings that had been planted. “Well, that had nothing to do with a soft side. He did the right thing, so I told him. No big deal.”

  “I’ll bet it’s a big deal for Marco. I think what you did was cool. You made his whole week. Did you see how fast he flew out of here?”

  Bon didn’t respond. He patted the soil a couple of times, then stood and brushed his hands together.

  “Maybe it’s the timing, that’s all,” Gap said. “I mean, after your last private meeting with a crew member.”

  Slowly, Bon turned his steely gaze upon Gap. “That was also a private conversation.”

  “Sure, what you discussed is obviously between you two. But Merit is making sure that the results aren’t private. He’s already visited Sick House, and now he’s planning a meeting for tonight after dinner.”

  “He’s free to do that.”

  “He’s free to do more than that, really,” Gap said. “He could have you brought before the Council for disciplinary action.”

  “So be it.”

  Gap shook his head and took another step closer. “Listen, I know we’ve had some good times in the past, and I also know that we’ve had our share of conflicts with each other. Things have been…pretty cold between us the last few months, and I’m sorry about that.”

  Bon shrugged. Gap had the distinct impression that having this conversation was the last thing that the Swede wanted to be doing. But he also knew that this particular discussion was long overdue. It was another inadvertent bit of eavesdropping that had originally put Gap at odds with his fellow Council member, months ago, when Gap had stumbled upon a somewhat intimate moment between Bon and Triana. Gap’s heart had been severely bruised that day, watching a connection between the girl he had secretly adored and the former friend with whom he had bonded during their training.