Title: Herculean Tasks – Chapter 8 – The Other Side (Part 1)

Rating: K+

Category: gen/het

Pairings: Davenport/Goddard

Summary: T.J.'s trip inside the Christa's computer provides clarity for some members of the crew, and more questions for others. What secrets are Thelma and the Christa hiding?

Note: Takes place during "Break on Through to the Other Side." Some dialog lifted directly from the episode. I don't own Space Cases; I just like to play in the show's sandbox.

Chapter 8: The Other Side (Part 1)

T.J. draped her uniform jacket over her chair as she took a seat opposite Seth in the Team Room. She watched him reset the game of Nine Globe Dudley between them, briefly noting that whoever had played as blue last had lost rather spectacularly.

"I just do not understand the children sometimes," she lamented. "They say they care, but then they go and pull another prank at my expense."

"Dare I ask?" Seth's mouth twitched into a playful smile as he teased, "Do they at least get points for creativity this time?"

T.J. narrowed her eyes. "They somehow engineered the Christa to play old Earth comedy videos whenever I attempted to sync my compupad to the classroom viewscreen."

"Seems like they were paying attention during your computer science lectures, at least."

T.J. could appreciate Seth's attempt at adding some levity, but none of his quips sat well with her. "The students all pointed fingers at Catalina, who then placed the blame entirely on Suzee. Regardless of who executed the plan, their latest shenanigans were relatively harmless, so I decided against issuing demerits."

Seth's smirk dissolved into a concerned frown. "That's not like you."

In fact, her response had been so unlike her that Bova concluded she must have brain prions, which then prompted Rosie to offer her a med scan. By Seth's logic, T.J. supposed she should be glad the kids were taking an interest in their xenobiology and medical studies. Instead of speaking to any of this, she merely shrugged.

Seth sighed. "I guess the past few months have been hard for all of us."

"So do you believe the children are simply acting out, seeking attention?" she wondered, moving one of the blue spheres on the tiered board.

"It's possible," Seth agreed. "We let them know that we're here if they need to talk to us. I just wish they'd take us up on the offer instead of resorting to stunts." He moved one of his red crystals forward. "I dunno. I'm not an expert on this whole parenting thing."

"Nor am I."

"You're better at it than I am."

T.J. cleared her throat and deflected, "The children have more respect for you. When was the last time you were on the receiving end of one of their jokes?"

"It's rare, but doesn't that mean they're seeing your attention and not mine?" he countered, his brow furrowed. "Your move, by the way."

T.J. supposed it was, in more ways than one. She bit her lip and reached for the same blue glass orb, staring at it as it caught the light. She moved to set it on one of the open platforms but stopped when Seth hummed in contemplation.

"I can win in two moves if you put that there," he told her, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. "If you don't want to play, just say so."

"No, I like that we are scheduling more time together."

"But...?"

T.J. sighed in defeat. "Perhaps you are right."

"Say that one more time," Seth joked with an impish grin.

"I am not in the right headspace for the strategy this game requires." She glanced at the timepiece in the corner. "2300 hours. We are breaking curfew anyway."

"We make the rules around here, right? We can make our own curfew," he reasoned.

"That is a dangerous way to think," she cautioned. "We must also hold ourselves accountable. If we are abiding by Starcademy regulations—"

"Maybe we don't always have to." His comment was delivered with a casual shoulder shrug, but Seth looked away and nervously rubbed the back of his neck when she didn't immediately respond. He'd made more brazen comments when they were at each other's throats at the Starcademy and had been wholly unapologetic, then. Now, he appeared ashamed for offering the suggestion as he anxiously awaited her reply.

But she was also responding differently, she noted. Was she actually considering breaking the rules she once insisted on following to the letter? She cleared her throat and clasped her hands together under the table to keep from fidgeting. When she found her voice, she carefully asked, "What amendments are you contemplating?"

"We can workshop that now," he suggested as he regained his confidence. Leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, he wondered, "C'mon, what's one rule you wish you could break?"

T.J. playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "I cannot see how you were Father's favorite student. You are far too rebellious."

His smirk returned. "You mean charming . 'Best to make it sound like a strength and not a weakness,' right? C'mon, Teej. Tell me."

"Is that an order?" The retort was more hostile and defensive than lighthearted, and T.J. hadn't realized she'd spoken the thought aloud until Seth's smile faded.

"I'm sorry." He looked down at the board and frowned. "I, uh, I was just trying to tease you a bit. I didn't mean to cross a line."

"There is no need for you to apologize. No lines were crossed." T.J. sighed. "I suppose we have been through a lot, and I have been feeling more unsettled than usual." She waited for Seth to fire a quip her way, akin to looking up the word "paranoid" in the dictionary, but she found him frowning and studying her with concern. She took her cue when he gave her an attentive nod to continue. "However, I understand that isn't an excuse for snapping at you, so I am sorry."

"Forgiven," he answered easily. "And for the record, I'd never give you a direct order unless it was a matter of life and death. You're my second in command if we're following any sort of official Command structure out here, but I like to think of us as equals. 'I help you, and you help me,' remember? And you don't always have to be the disciplinarian. You deserve to have some fun too."

She felt the tension fade from her shoulders first, relaxing once again in his presence, conceding, "I suppose it could be somewhat liberating to reconsider a few protocols that may no longer apply to our unique situation."

When Seth smiled at her again it was with a broad grin and twinkling eyes. "So which rule would you break?" he wondered with genuine interest.

T.J. could feel herself blushing as she stood to leave, pausing to grab her jacket. She attempted to recover before heading for the jumptubes, making a conscious effort not to look back over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Seth."

"C'mon, Teej. One rule. One little rule! No, not even a rule. An existing addendum to a rule." He continued provoking her, calling after her as she walked away. "Fine. Not even break: bend. What addendum would you bend? There's gotta be something. I know you have a rebellious streak. You don't glue the Principal to her chair if you don't have a rebellious streak."

"Goodnight, Seth."

She knew if she looked at him again, she'd catch another glimpse of his half-smile. She knew if she saw his smile, she'd finally cave and give an answer. She knew if she gave an answer, it would lead to a larger discussion she was not yet prepared to have.

T.J. awoke later in a cold sweat. She removed her sleep mask with a groan, checking the timepiece on the bedside table: 0229 hours. She'd been finding that particular time staring back at her often over the past few weeks. Thinking about the pattern made her feel extremely unsettled, so she'd tried to brush it off as a coincidence, rather unsuccessfully. Examining her position in the bed, she gathered that she had been tossing and turning quite a bit during her slumber, and she attempted to wriggle out of the cocoon of sheets in which she had become entangled.

She massaged her temples, trying to relieve the usual headache that now greeted her when she awoke in the middle of the night. Instead of going back to sleep, she decided to get a drink of water, suddenly realizing how dry her mouth had become.

"Lights," she ordered.

T.J. squinted as her eyes gradually became accustomed to the light and, still surprisingly exhausted, she stumbled over to the bathroom for a drink. She swallowed her mug of water in two large gulps and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her nightdress: a very unnatural move for the woman who usually daintily dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

Then she cautiously looked up into the mirror and was perplexed by what confronted her. She looked so horribly pale without makeup. Dark circles were evident under her eyes, and she didn't think one of her glares would intimidate the students at the moment.

Checking the small cabinet above her sink, she was frustrated to find the bottle of naproxen she'd pilfered from the ship's supply was now empty. With a sigh, she shrugged on her shawl and headed into the hallway in the direction of the Med Lab.

"Hi!"

T.J. whirled around with a gasp to find Bova standing behind her, leaning against the jumptubes, holding a large sandwich. "Bova, what are you doing here?"

"Scaring you, I guess," he answered nonchalantly.

She gently suggested that he return to his bunkroom: that he was a growing boy and needed sufficient sleep. Anything to divert his attention from what she might be doing awake at the late hour (though she didn't think he cared, judging by his smug responses to her suggestions).

"Don't worry, Miss Davenport. I can always sleep in class," he told her.

T.J. was about to bid her student goodnight when she turned to see an eerie emerald glow emanating from the end of the corridor. She and Bova crept closer to investigate, their collective curiosity getting the better of them. Upon hearing a voice on the other side, T.J.'s anxiety began to skyrocket.

"None of the Christa's crew suspects anything," the familiar voice reported.

"It's Thelma!" Bova realized. "And she's talking about us!"

T.J. heard Thelma sign off, and she pulled the boy closer to her as she wedged herself in the corner, holding her breath, and hoping the android wouldn't notice them when she emerged. Thankfully, Thelma turned in the opposite direction and headed down the hall. Much to T.J.'s dismay, however, Bova strolled through the illuminated doorway before she could stop him. She closed her eyes and followed after with her hands outstretched, shaking. A chill passed through her as she walked into the phasing wall, like static coursing over her entire body.

She opened her eyes and glanced around, finding herself in a cramped room. The walls were bare: blank screens and industrial metal panels, save for one control hub next to the door. She was surprised and a bit unnerved by the lack of organic technology or detailing.

Bova gave voice to T.J.'s thoughts, "This is different from anything else on the Christa!"

She rolled her eyes. Of course he would choose that moment to entertain his scientific interests. Her focus shifted to the odd metal chair in the room's center, and she felt her stomach turn as her head throbbed in time with her pulse. The room didn't belong there. She didn't belong there. She needed to get out. Seth had been praising her for trusting her instincts lately, and now her instincts were screaming at her to run. "Bova, I am not exactly comfortable in cramped quarters. Let's get out of here right now and alert Commander Goddard."

Bova agreed, but when T.J. turned to leave through the doorway, her body met a solid wall. She clenched and unclenched her hands as her focus darted about the room and a lump formed in her throat. Their only way out of the confined space had disappeared, and were the walls closing in on them? No; it was surely a hallucination, but she couldn't shake the imagery from her mind. Her vision narrowed as she felt blindly for the uncomfortable chair, and she lowered herself into it while Bova attempted to reactivate the phase program. The seat really was as uncomfortable as it looked, and T.J.'s breathing became more erratic as she considered the room's purpose. The technology contained within appeared very similar to their own from the Sol System. If Thelma used it to report information in secret, perhaps it was designed to be a records room of sorts. But the place felt more like a torture chamber: small, dark, cramped, uncomfortable, hidden.

A mechanical chirping noise cut through T.J.'s thoughts, and she felt the static tingle again, this time as a jolt that shocked her every nerve. "Bova! Shut...off the...program!" She struggled to breathe, as her lungs seemed to fill with the paralyzing crackling energy. Golden light shone all around her—from within her—before overtaking her vision completely.

Seth was not a morning person. And he was most definitely not a 0330-in-the-morning person. So when the sound of frantic knocking on the door to his quarters woke him up at that ungodly hour, he was more than a little confused, worried, and perturbed. Throwing a robe over his pajamas, he swore and trudged over to answer, finding an equally tired Harlan and a distressed Bova on the other side of the threshold.

"The Christa ate Miss Davenport!" the Uranusian exclaimed.

Space help him, it was way too early for this nonsense. Seth squinted and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What?"

"There's this secret room thing with a disappearing door. Thelma was in there, and when I went to investigate, Miss Davenport vanished. There was a flash of light, and she was just...gone!"

Harlan shook his head. "I told him to stop adding hot sauce to his sandwiches before bed."

"I'm not making this up!" Bova groaned and trudged down the hallway, while Harlan cocked his head to the side, and he and Seth followed. "I know what I saw!" Bova insisted.

"Where is this secret room?" Seth wondered, humoring the student. T.J. had warned him that the kids were back to pulling their usual pranks. Maybe he was the target this time.

"It was right around here...somewhere."

The Commander leaned down, placing his hands on his knees and addressing Bova at eye-level, somehow landing between reassuring and dismissive when he offered, "Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe you were sleepwalking and that's all there is to it."

"Ask Thelma. She'll tell you."

But Thelma wasn't able to provide any insight, even stating she didn't know about a secret room and she didn't recall any of what Bova recounted. "I am not programmed to lie," she offered.

Harlan looked as confused and inconvenienced as Seth felt; if this was a prank, maybe the older student wasn't in on it either. But Bova was insistent, and that was highly unusual. The prank and/or problem needed addressing either way. But if Bova was playing a joke…

"Then where's Miss Davenport?"

Thelma shrugged. "Miss Davenport is presently inside the ship."

"Oh good. That narrows it down," Bova sulked.

According to Thelma, none of her memory banks had been erased in 39 hours. "A new record!" she exclaimed proudly. Seth rolled his eyes and sent the crew to split up, look for their teacher, and report in when they were done. There was no trace of T.J. anywhere. Radu even checked the airlock, and Seth had to swallow the lump in his throat at the thought of why T.J. might be there . The search was interrupted when the ship shook violently and the controls jammed, nearly sending the Christa colliding with a space mine. Harlan was able to steer them clear of the armed satellite, and Bova picked up some signals from the beacon in the process. Now Seth had more things to worry about: why the Christa's course had been rerouted, why the controls jammed, what signals the satellite was emitting, if Thelma needed repairs, and why he heard T.J. screaming over the shipwide comm when she was nowhere to be found.

"Listen, the Christa's back on course. It's getting very late. You and Harlan round up the others and head back to the bunkrooms," he instructed Bova. "I will continue to look for Miss Davenport. I will also run some diagnostics on Thelma."

"But—"

"Report back to the Command Post at 0800 hours, is that clear ?" It was an order from a commanding officer, not a suggestion from a caregiver.

Bova sighed, reluctantly agreeing with a defeated, "Yes, Sir ," leaving him alone in the Command Post with Thelma.

Seth sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face and collapsing onto Bova's abandoned seat.

"Are you alright, Commander?" Thelma inquired.

"No!" Seth barked. With a sigh, he lowered his voice. "No, I'm not. Thelma, is this some kind of prank? Did the kids ask you to help them with a joke to get my attention?"

"No," she answered immediately. "My prime directive is to help, not hurt. It would seem that taking part in a joke such as this would be more hurtful than playful."

Seth narrowed his eyes in thought. Thelma was known to obey direct orders, sometimes too literally, without question. But she seemed to be describing some sort of conscience.

"I sense that Miss Davenport is in the ship." She settled her features into a mechanical frown. "I am sorry I cannot be of more help. That is all I am able to detect of her whereabouts at this time."

Seth excused himself to dress for the day and grab his compupad. When he returned to the Command Post, he began running diagnostics, as promised. Thelma's crystal was still cracked, with no new damage detected. Her memory banks had not deleted any information in 40 hours. ("A new, new record!") None of the readings deviated from her baseline: no viruses, no new hardware issues. But Seth wasn't the crew's computer genius, T.J. was. He wandered over to Rosie's post and picked up the comm link resting on the console. He cleared his throat before turning on the device allowing for shipwide communication and announcing, "Miss Davenport, please report to the Command Post immediately."

Seth waited, turning to the jumptubes, hoping T.J. would emerge with a smile and an explanation of how she managed to fool everyone. Seconds turned to minutes, and his heart sank. "Thelma, please continue searching for Miss Davenport. Let me know as soon as you find her."

Thelma nodded dutifully before exiting, leaving Seth still staring at the jumptubes, lost in thought. Perhaps T.J. orchestrated her own disappearance as a form of elaborate payback. She certainly had the technical skills required for the job. After teasing her about her rebellious streak, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Though Seth hoped she'd have let him in on the joke beforehand.

The viewscreen chimed behind him, and he rolled his eyes at the thought of fixing even more malfunctioning technology. He turned and forgot to breathe as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing on the wall before him. "T.J.?"

T.J.'s pixelated image answered to her name in a voice laced with panic and digital reverberation. "Seth? Seth! You can see me? Can you hear me? Get me out of here!"

"I don't get it. What…? Where are you?"

"I think I… I think I'm inside the Christa," she revealed. "It's so strange, it…"

"Miss Davenport is presently inside the ship," Thelma had said. It hadn't been a lie in the slightest.

T.J. watched Seth hurry from one station to the next. She was unable to guide him as he muttered obscenities while trying and failing to press buttons, turn levers, and activate crystals. She felt an odd sort of nudge in the back of her mind—if her thoughts could be considered to come from her own mind anymore, she wasn't certain—but she knew she needed to reach out to him.

"How'd you even get in there?" Seth wondered as he approached the screen.

"I don't know precisely where 'here' is." She could see him, but she felt her concentration being pulled in different directions, like she was meant to be nowhere and everywhere. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of regret. In a voice that was hers but not—not panicked, but heart wrenchingly emotional—she found herself blurting out, "I'm sorry , Seth."

"It'll be okay. You're inside the Christa—inside the computer, from the looks of it—so does that mean you have control of some of the systems? Could you grant me access so I could help? Like, I dunno, give me admin privileges or something?"

T.J. found herself laughing at the thought of Seth with administrative access to anything, and the lights pulsed in the Command Post as the ship laughed with her.

"This isn't funny!" he exclaimed exasperated. "How do you expect me to help if you won't let me?"

"I'm sorry, but the state of your compupad back at the Starcademy alone is enough to make anyone skeptical about giving you administrative privileges. Your disorganized inbox was always filled with unread emails and—heavens!—your browser history!"

"You hacked into my compupad?!" he sputtered in alarm.

"I did not need to hack into anything. Do delete your 'Net history once in a while, Seth. And never leave your compupad unlocked and unattended where your supervisor could have a look. Imagine my surprise when I went to check your lesson plans during your first week and found you'd attempted to access a site called..." She trailed off as Seth turned bright red. "Hmm, yes. That one."

"I guess you'll be adding that to the list of things you wish you could unsee," he muttered wryly.

T.J. hummed thoughtfully. "Will I, now? Word of advice: look at things of that nature on your own personal device and not a Starcademy-issued computer."

Seth shook his head as if to clear it of any inappropriate thoughts and the lights twinkled again. He groaned in reply, "Teej, this is serious! Can you stop it with the lights and the, uh, the teasing?"

"I am not controlling the lights. Not intentionally, at least."

"Just the teasing, then?"

T.J.'s smile softened. "You always were a space idiot," she remarked with the fondness she'd felt but never previously expressed.

Seth rubbed his eyes before scrubbing his hands down his face. He wandered over to the helm—to the post with the most control but where he had the least—and turned away from the screen as he gathered his thoughts. T.J. noted a slight tremor in his voice when he finally said, "I know asking if you're okay is the wrong question. But do you think you're in any sort of immediate danger?"

She glanced around the screen. She didn't know for certain, but she didn't feel threatened by the ship, just very confused and disoriented as streams of data swirled around her, taking on bold shapes and colors like an awkward screensaver. "I don't believe so," is what she told him. "This is all just so very strange."

"So we've probably got time to figure this out. That's good, at least," he muttered to himself. He addressed her again, "Tell me everything you remember about how you got there. Every detail. Maybe we can recreate what happened and reverse it."

"Right. Well, I…" T.J. paused as she stared off into the distance, expressly avoiding looking at Seth. Trying to think back was like struggling to push through a dense mental fog until she hit a wall. She didn't know if computer programs could cry. She couldn't feel any tears in her eyes or streaming down her cheeks, but she imagined if she was her old self in her own body, she would be crying.

"Teej?" Seth approached the viewscreen with concern. "Hey, are you with me?"

"I...don't know," she admitted: a departure from her usual affirmative. Her voice wavered, and she was certain it wasn't due to an audio glitch, as she realized aloud, "I don't remember. I cannot seem to recall what happened."

"What do you mean?" The same tremor was in Seth's voice now. "You remember everything."

Apparently computer programs could still feel emotion, at least she could—at least for the time being. Panic, sorrow, terror, and desperation continued coursing through her, along with an intrusive nudge that seemed to be leading her focus astray: away from her current state and toward the kids. "I don't understand," she said more to herself than to him. "Are the children safe?"

Seth nodded. "Yeah, they're fine. You and I can figure out what's going on, come up with a plan, and then they can help in a few hours."

"As long as the children are safe. My purpose," her voice broke, "is to keep you all safe." A surge of longing rippled through her, and she found herself saying, "I didn't think I would ever be able to speak to you again after..." After what? T.J. tried to think back. The past. What happened in the past? She soon found her mind swamped by facts and figures, and she was rendered a mere observer to the onslaught of rapidly scrolling text before her, unable to retain the scattered impressions of words and images. All that information going to waste...

"Teej? Hey. Focus," Seth pleaded, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Teej, can you hear me?"

Sensory exercises in a computer...would that even work? "I...can hear you," she confirmed. She fought to see through the barrage of data, until she met concerned steel blue eyes. After a few seconds more, the rest of Seth and the surrounding Command Post came into focus. "I can see you. I cannot smell or taste anything, obviously. I feel…" Was she supposed to feel? She still could, and she wondered how long that would last. "...I'm glad you found me." Distraught, she looked around, grimacing again. "But everywhere in here looks the same. I can't... I must find the kids. I'll… I will be right back."

"T.J.!" But he was left standing in front of a blank screen. Seth swore and walked back to the helm. He looked down at the controls and narrowed his eyes, determined, as he grappled with the levers and crystals to no avail. "This is an emergency! Why won't you let me help? Why are you being so stubborn!" he shouted at the ship.

Determined, his inner monologue reminded him.

The viewscreen chimed again, and he forced himself to regain some of his composure as he met T.J.'s eyes through the panel.

"I'm sorry. I-I panicked," she stammered. "I didn't mean to frighten them. But I have a feeling that..."

Seth became aware of the whir of the jumptubes behind him and realized, "You told the kids."

"Not so much told as appeared and asked for help." She looked guilty as she admitted, "One might even say perhaps pleaded would be a more accurate description..."

Seth swore, glancing down at the com link. Hefting the device, he said, "Just sit tight. I'm going to improvise a bit, okay? Please forgive me for this."

"Forgive you for—?"

Seth cringed as he hit the Mute button on the remote before turning the screen off completely. He had enough time to run a hand through his hair and stand up straight before Bova and Harlan landed in the Command Post via the jumptubes, and the rest of the kids entered from the corridors.

"We found her!"

"Miss Davenport's in the computer!"

"In everything in the ship!"

"It must be awful for her."

"Commander, she's trapped inside the ship's computer."

"I know," he told them, forcing a smile.

He ordered the screen to turn on, revealing an irate T.J. When Seth finally unmuted her, poor Radu covered his ears as she finished her tirade. Seth hadn't expected Harlan to bluff about having a plan, so when he admitted to T.J. that he had no idea how to get her out, her panic turned into a shipwide tantrum: the entire vessel began shaking as the systems glitched.

"You have got to get me out of here. I can't take much more of this! I'm starting to think in digital code! " T.J. raged. "I'm losing my identity. This is not part of my job description!"

"Miss Davenport, you have got to calm down!" Catalina pleaded. "Suzee thinks your emotions are disrupting the neural programming and controls of the ship. Calm down, or you'll get us all killed! Please!"

As measured and logical as T.J. tried to be, Seth knew she felt things deeply. He was terrified at the prospect of her emotions posing a threat to their safety. But losing her identity? Had he accidentally harmed her when he turned off the screen? What was the Christa doing to her? T.J. eventually did calm down, but Seth's relief only lasted so long before Bova spoke up.

"Tell them, Miss Davenport!" the boy implored. "Tell them about Thelma and the secret room: what she said and did!"

"Why, yes! That's right. She was responsible for this."

Bova cocked his head and lightly swatted Seth on the arm, much like T.J. had been known to do. He rolled his eyes at the gesture as his heart sank for dismissing the boy's concern.

"A-a-and that chair," T.J. continued, "and the phase program. It was...Thelma."

Everyone turned to see Thelma working at one of the peripheral consoles, and Seth wondered when she'd arrived. Ultimately, that didn't matter; she wouldn't be in the room much longer. He slowly approached the android, feeling something akin to sorrow. But that was ridiculous. Thelma was just a machine. He wasn't going to hurt her feelings. She didn't have any feelings...did she?

We do not know that for certain, he thought, and his inner voice now sounded like T.J. Space help him.

"Thelma, I don't know what's wrong with you," he began. It sounded too harsh, especially as Thelma reflected a look of confusion and unease. "But until we figure it out, if we ever do...you're relieved of all duties aboard the Christa."

Thelma nodded before twisting her features into a pained frown. But Thelma's not alive. She doesn't have feelings, Seth kept telling himself as he heard her cogs and motors whirring, working overtime. Processing. He watched her shuffle from the room and hung his head. She's just a machine: programmed and artificial and...

He turned around slowly, facing what looked like T.J. as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't know how long he continued staring at the screen, but it must have been long enough to make the kids uncomfortable.

"Commander? We can try looking for the secret room," Catalina suggested gently. Raising her eyebrows and offering him a significant nod, she added, "And maybe you can try piecing together what happened with Miss Davenport up here."

He was about to argue that he wouldn't be able to work any of the controls by himself and would need some help, and that Bova would be able to give more insight, but the Saturnian held his gaze. Catalina was too intuitive for her own good. The rest of the kids stared at him expectantly, waiting to be dismissed. They were all too intuitive for their own good. Seth turned his attention back to the screen, where he found T.J. looking at Catalina with a twitch of a sad smile on her face and gratitude in her eyes.

"Oh, hey! Maybe later, Miss Davenport can teach class!" Rosie said brightly. Her friends groaned in response, but she defended her suggestion with, "She probably has access to lots of information in there. And it might keep her mind off of things."

"I shall consider it," T.J. replied, her voice still sounding a bit tinny and distorted but warm.