The Cassini Code Page 8

  Now, after months of reflection—not to mention a flourishing romance with Hannah Ross—Gap felt a need to mend the split with the guy who had eventually saved the ship from destruction at the hands of the Cassini. He knew that his reluctance to approach Bon had been fueled primarily by jealousy, and the time had come to rise above that.

  The incident with Merit Simms provided a convenient excuse to do so.

  “Anyway,” Gap said, “there’s no telling what the fall-out will be from your punch. I’m pretty sure that Triana will have no choice but to address the crew at some point, and lecture everyone about conflict resolution. You know, ‘violence is never the answer,’ that sort of stuff.”

  Bon ran a dirt-stained hand through his long hair. “I have not made a habit of violence, though, have I? One isolated incident, that’s all.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Gap said. “But you know that, as the Council Leader, she still has responsibilities, and one of those is keeping the peace. Which,” he added with a sigh, “might be a little tougher in the days to come.”

  The sound of irrigation pipes coming to life suddenly gurgled near them, and both boys automatically began to walk toward the path that led to Bon’s office. Neither said anything for a minute, unsure of exactly how to end the conversation. It was Gap who found the way.

  “For the record,” he said, “I would have to agree that violence is certainly not the answer with someone like Merit. But…” He paused, then flashed a grin. “But off the record, you have no idea how glad I am you did it.”

  As usual, Bon kept silent, but his fierce eyes softened a bit. And when Gap stuck out his hand, the sullen son of a farmer grasped it firmly, shook it once, then turned and walked into his office.

  She had managed only about four hours of sleep the night before, and now Triana sat in her room, a mug of hot tea steaming on the table, and her journal spread open before her. She had climbed out of bed at 6:30, invested thirty minutes on the treadmill in the gym, then showered and changed before spending a few hours checking in with the various departments of the ship. She had stumbled back into her room around noon and wolfed down a mango energy block before deciding that tea might be just what she needed during the break.

  A quick check of the clock caused her to unconsciously calculate the time remaining before the gathering in the Dining Hall. At first she had tried to convince herself that few people would bother to attend; now she resigned herself to the fact that it likely would be bustling with crew members, mostly curious about the battle lines that were being drawn.

  Triana took up her pen and finished the journal entry.

  I’m starting to come to grips with the emotions that are stirring inside me regarding this conflict with Merit. At first I was tentative, almost nervous, and completely unsure of how to deal with it. But now that has begun to shift. If I’m truly honest with myself, I have to admit that I’m angry. Angry that someone would intentionally create chaos aboard the ship, when we have enough to deal with already. Angry that so many others have neglected to think for themselves, and are blindly following whoever shouts the loudest. And angry that I came across as weak in the face of the enemy. That must end. Although it was wrong, and will more than likely come back to haunt us, perhaps I should credit Bon for snapping me out of my delicate state. In one moment Bon simply acted upon what many of us might have felt. Typical for him, I suppose. And although I can’t condone his actions, in a roundabout way the punch has knocked me backward as much as Merit.

  She set down the pen, took a swig of the tea, and sat back in her chair. After a moment of consideration, she closed the journal and called out to the computer.

  “Roc, I have a lot on my plate right now, and this will probably be a tough day. So, how about a distraction for a few moments?”

  “Now isn’t that an interesting twist,” the computer said. “All of those times that you were irritated with me when I distracted you, and now you’re begging for it. Typical.”

  “Well, let’s face it, sometimes you pick the worst possible times to act up.”

  “Or,” Roc said, “the best possible times, depending on how you look at it. What’s the matter, Tree?”

  “Oh, let’s see. A potential mutiny from the crew, and about a bazillion giant chunks of rock hurtling at us. Other than that, you mean?”

  “Hmm, you definitely need a distraction. I’ll tell you what; let’s count all of the ways I’m indispensable to you and the ship.”

  Triana smiled. “Okay, I guess that’s enough distractions for now.”

  “Hey!”

  “Besides,” Triana said, “I don’t have time to play, as tempting as it is. You made me smile, and for now that’s good enough. Let me ask you about the heating system.”

  “Boy, you are all business today, aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t been able to catch up with Gap today. What’s our status with the repairs?”

  “We’re trying something new,” Roc said. “We’re running the system on Six through the Balsom clips on Four and Five. Gap will not let go of his theory that it’s the clips, so I’m humoring him.”

  “So…where does that leave us?”

  “The system will drop out again, because, as I told Wonder Boy, it’s not the Balsom clips. It’s just like playing a game of Masego with him; you have to let him make his own mistakes before he’ll take your suggestions. He’s quite stubborn, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Triana chuckled at the mention of Masego. The popular game, introduced to the crew by a girl from Africa, required a strategic mind and extreme patience. Gap had plenty of one, not so much of the other, and Roc enjoyed torturing him whenever they played in the Rec Room.

  “Well,” she said, “it’s not like I don’t have a lot of stress right now, you know? So, do I need to worry about this heating stuff, or will it eventually get fixed?”

  “I’ll tell you when to worry,” Roc said. “Actually, I’ll probably drop a few subtle hints first so that you don’t panic. Like, ‘Hey Tree, we’re all going to die.’ You know, something like that.”

  “Right. Okay, let’s talk about the giant boulder situation.”

  “No,” Roc said. “Let’s not talk about that.”

  Another small laugh escaped from the Council Leader. “Then all you’re leaving me is the Merit Simms problem. I suppose you know about the meeting tonight?”

  “Can’t wait,” the computer said. “Knowing you the way I do, I’m guessing that you’re going to be there?”

  Triana nodded. “Uh-huh. Hey, if it affects the crew, I need to know first-hand what information is being thrown about. I could be wimpy and send some spy to find out for me—or have you tell me—but I want Merit to see me there.”

  “Bravo,” Roc said. “Would you like for me to do anything to mess with his presentation? You know, have the lights flicker, play loud music, pipe in the sound of demonic laughter every time he says the word ‘I’?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “What if I flashed his baby pictures on the vidscreen behind him?”

  “What? You don’t have those!”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But I could create something really, really close. Maybe add an extra eye or something for effect.”

  “No, thank you,” Triana said. “We’ll let him have his day and find out exactly what message he’s putting out there. But I appreciate the offer.”

  “By the way,” Roc said, “even though you didn’t play along, that was number 147 on the list of ways I’m indispensable to you.”

  11

  The Dining Hall was crowded, but Lita couldn’t tell if it was unusually so for this time of the evening. She was one of a handful of crew members who took their dinner later than most, so it was a change for her to be here at seven o’clock. Most of the kids in the room appeared to have either finished their meal, or were close to doing so, and that made Lita believe they were lingering to hear what Merit had to say.

  It was the reason she had come e
arlier than usual. A tray with the remnants of her dinner was pushed to the side, and her eyes darted back and forth between the assembled crowd and Channy, who was seated across from her, decked out in a bright orange t-shirt. She didn’t want to be rude and ignore Channy, but she couldn’t stop mentally cataloguing the people who were either sympathetic to Merit, or simply curious. She wasn’t sure if sides were being chosen—not yet, anyway—but it couldn’t hurt to know what you were up against.

  If Channy was concerned, she was masking it by chattering on and on about her latest crew function.

  “The only reason people have been slow to sign up, Lita, is because they’re waiting to see who else does it.”

  “You really think this crew is ready for a dating game?” Lita said.

  Channy rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about? People are always ready for love, my friend. I’m telling you, it’s still a week away, and you know how people hate to be the first to volunteer for anything.”

  Lita glanced over Channy’s shoulder and saw Triana walk in the door. The room became noticeably quieter for a split second, before the general buzz started up again. There was drama here, indeed, and the atmosphere in the room had become charged. When she noticed that Channy was staring at her, Lita forced her attention back to their conversation.

  “Um…so, how many people have signed up right now?”

  “Two.”

  Lita fought back a smile. “Two? How are you going to do this with two people?”

  “I told you,” Channy said, “it’s still early. By this time next week I’m predicting at least a dozen, maybe more. You’ll see.” She transferred her empty plate to Lita’s tray, then stacked her own tray underneath. “Why don’t we put your name on there?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  Lita lowered her chin and gave Channy her best impression of an evil eye. “Don’t you even think about it.”

  “Where’s the sense of adventure I saw when you performed that concert for us?” Channy said.

  “I was terrified. For a minute I wondered if I would even be able to play chopsticks. You’re lucky I didn’t throw up.”

  “Well, you have a week to think about it.”

  Lita just shook her head, then looked over as another clot of people walked into the Dining Hall. A moment later Triana pulled over a chair and sat down next to them.

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “What’s new?”

  Channy leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. “Not much. Just trying to talk Lita into signing up for our little dating game next week.”

  “That’s nice. Well, there’s quite a crowd gathered for this, isn’t there?” Triana said.

  “Are you changing the subject?” Channy piped in.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had more to say about it.” Channy looked back and forth between her two companions, then shook her head and turned sideways in her chair to stare out over the crowd. She muttered something under her breath.

  Lita leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “It’s mostly curiosity, I’m sure. You know those armbands that a few people are wearing? I only see ten or twelve of them in the room.”

  Triana cut through her salad with a fork without saying anything in reply. Her mind was racing, but she was determined to keep a relaxed posture before, during, and after the meeting. She would not give Merit, nor his group of followers, the satisfaction of seeing her ruffled. There was no doubt that her reactions would be scrutinized by everyone in the room.

  She didn’t want to lose the confidence of the Council, either. It was important, she thought, that they believe in her ability to lead, and during a time of crisis that was even more crucial. Channy seemed to be pouting right now and not paying much attention to anything, but Triana was sure that Lita was watching her very closely.

  Casually flipping a strand of hair out of her face, she said, “How’s Alexa feeling tonight?”

  “The last time I talked with her she lied to me,” Lita said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I could tell that she felt like garbage, but all she kept saying was, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ I ordered her to stay in bed until tomorrow, otherwise, knowing her, she would have marched into work this afternoon.”

  “That’s weird,” Triana said, taking another bite. “What do you think is wrong?”

  “I’m starting to doubt that it was something she ate. Nobody else is sick right now. It’s possible that it’s a bug that somehow survived our tests and the month we spent in quarantine before the launch. Not likely, but always possible. If she’s not better tomorrow I’ll run some tests.”

  Triana nodded, and was about to comment when she heard a clamor from the front of the room. She knew what that meant.

  Merit Simms strode through the door, his customary posse in tow. Several of the kids nearest him reached out to shake his hand or clap him on the back. Triana noticed that this came mostly from the group that sported the yellow armbands.

  She also noticed that the small bandage near his lip was still in place. By now there was no doubt that it was merely a prop, and undoubtedly an important one. Someone in his cheering section obviously inquired about it, because Triana watched him point to the bandage and chuckle, in what looked—to her—like phony embarrassment.

  She also noticed the glances that were directed her way from some of the assembled crew, an almost nervous reflex, as if sizing up two gladiators before a battle. Her own eyes darted around the room. Lita was right; there was curiosity here, along with a touch of hero worship from a select few. Yet Triana couldn’t help but feel that her presence in the room had also added an air of confusion. Why, they must be wondering, would she be here?

  Well, good, she decided. The fact that she had chosen to participate allowed her to take the high road in the eyes of the crew, and showed them that she refused to run and hide in the face of controversy. A moment later Merit looked up to see her, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of irritation cross his face. She gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement along with a faint smile.

  Just as the noise began to die down, Gap walked through the door. He scanned the room, spotted the other Council members, then eased his way back to their table. Taking a chair from an adjoining table, he sat down next to Triana.

  “Thanks for being here,” she whispered to him.

  “Of course.” He began to size up the crowd as Lita had done. At the front of the room Merit cleared his throat, causing the room to grow quiet. He surveyed the group before him, slowly turning his head and making eye contact with as many people as possible. Triana recognized it as a technique used by the most experienced professional speakers, a move that helped to create an artificial bond between speaker and audience. Finally, he gave a smile and spoke.

  “I want to thank all of you for interrupting your own personal schedules in order to join us tonight.”

  Triana noted the use of “us.”

  “There are a lot of things you could be doing tonight. Reading, working out, Airboarding, catching up on sleep, maybe just simply eating dinner with friends. Each of you works hard on this ship, you do a terrific job with your official duties, and it means a lot to us that you would sacrifice a little bit of your time to share in this discussion.

  “I was just like you a year ago. I had all of the same emotions that I’m sure you had. I was frightened for my family, I was depressed about never seeing them again. I was angry that nobody could find a way to save them. But I was excited about the mission to Eos. I had confidence in Dr. Zimmer, and believed in his plan. He was very good at selling his plan, and I bought into it.”

  Triana let her gaze wander around the room, and saw that Merit had captured everyone’s attention. The room was dead silent. He had touched the nerve that he had aimed for, and the effect was potent.

  “I’ve thought a lot about those days,” Merit said, beginning to walk slowly back and forth at the front of the room
, dragging every set of eyes with him. It reminded Triana of the pacing he had done during the Council meeting, using the movement to embellish the impact of his words.

  “I realize now that there was a combination of emotions at work. I was afraid of Bhaktul’s Disease. I was afraid of growing older and getting sick, with no one there to look after me because my family would already be gone. I was eager for a chance at life, at any cost, even if it meant saying goodbye to my parents, forever.

  “You had the same emotions, I know. You saw Galahad as your chance to escape, to live, to give humanity a fresh start. You worked hard, you trained hard, you studied, you cried, you grieved. And now, seven months after leaving, many of you are still grieving.

  “Only today, if you’re like me, you look back at the promises made by Dr. Zimmer, and you think, ‘Wait a minute. He prepared us for a trip to a new world. He never said anything about a madman trying to kill us.’”

  Triana looked at Gap, who looked back at her with a grim expression. They both knew that referencing the near-deadly encounter with the mysterious intruder was a sensitive issue. Merit was undoubtedly scoring points already.

  “Dr. Zimmer also never considered the possibility of an alien life force trying to destroy us, for no apparent reason. He never told us that we would fly through the Kuiper Belt and have millions of projectiles hurtling at us like a giant game of dodge ball.”

  There were nods from around the room. Merit stopped his pacing and faced the crowd, a look of anxiety on his face. “You’re as concerned about these things as I am. And I’m sure you’ve had some of the same thoughts I’ve had, too. Thoughts such as, ‘Maybe it’s time we turned back.’ I ask you tonight, with everything that has happened so far, only seven months into the journey: How many more times can we get lucky? How many more times can we pull out a miracle? How many more times until we discover that the people who sent us out into the cold darkness of space had no idea what we would be up against?”