Silver Search

by Rock Whitehouse

  Dan paused. "I assume this is a mission where we'll want to avoid contact with living, whole specimens?"

  She wasn't quite sure it was a joke. "Yes, Captain, that would be advisable."

  There were a few moments of quiet as the ship's officers read the briefing materials she had given them.

  "Sigma was attacked four months ago," Smith said.

  She nodded.

  "You don't think the, um, samples, will be degraded?"

  "I understand what you mean, but exposed biologic tissue will essentially freeze-dry. We will have to evaluate what we see in that context, of course, but I believe the data will be perfectly valid. It may also be effectively sterilized, but we're less sure of that."

  "Sterilized would be good," Powell deadpanned. That earned him another scowl from Scranton.

  Katch asked, "So, Commander, are you thinking we'll find these, uh, remains, just floating in space or are we supposed to find the shipwreck itself?"

  "I can't say. I think you who have been out here are better equipped to answer that than I am. I just need material to examine."

  "Katch, let's have Powell take the lead on this one."

  "Fine with me, sir." Katch felt relieved to let someone else deal with this tough doctor, and turned his head to give Powell a joyously evil grin.

  "OK, I think we're done here. I want a detailed briefing for the full staff tomorrow morning." They all rose with the captain and filed out of the room.

  Scranton was the last one out of the little workroom. She left without another word and headed for the sickbay. She disappeared into the room for the rest of the day, popping up only for one bathroom break. By late afternoon the space began to look more like a lab and less like an operating theater. Boxes of instruments now covered the floor. The techs worked to remove whatever associated OR equipment — anesthesia, infusion, monitors — could be moved. They scrambled to securely stash the masses of sealed supplies now piled on tables all around the main treatment area.

  For Susan Scranton, tomorrow would be yet another tedious briefing for people who didn't understand her work. But her mood was gradually changing with the feeling that she was getting closer to her goal. She fought to hide her desperation to find, and kill, this enemy. Her pain was deep and personal, but she dared not share it with the officers around her. She'd rather be respected than pitied, even if it meant offending a few people. All that mattered was getting the answer and putting it to work. For her, everything else was either a distraction or an irrelevancy.

  As dinner time approached, XO Alona Melville made her way down to sickbay to see how it was going. She found Scranton leaning over a case on the floor, straining to lift something out.

  "Can I offer a hand, Doctor?" Scranton stood up, startled. She was dripping with sweat. The room felt very warm and humid.

  "Sure, Lieutenant," she said breathlessly.

  "Alona, please."

  Scranton just nodded and did not return the offer for a first-name relationship.

  Alona ignored it for the moment. "So how do we pick this thing up? Oh, and let's fix the air, OK?"

  Alona adjusted the room controls to drop the temperature and humidity. With the two of them, it was fairly easy to lift the DNA sequencer out of the case and place it on a side counter.

  "You don't want this on the operating table? There's more space."

  "No, I'll do the dissections there. It has an overhead x-ray."

  "Ugh. Dissections."

  Scranton half-shrugged. "Might sound gross but it's part of the job. Better them than us."

  Melville nodded agreement. "No argument there. You ready to call it a day? You've been doing hard labor all afternoon."

  Scranton looked around, taking stock of her progress. "I can quit now. The sequencer was the last item on my stretch-goal checklist for today."

  "Dinner in the wardroom is at 1830. So, you have a little less than an hour."

  "Fine. I need a shower and a change of uniform."

  "You have a private shower in your quarters. That perk comes with the doctor gig." Scranton looked relieved, the first real emotion Alona had seen from her. One final wipe with the towel and she headed out of the OR, locking the door behind her.

  Dan Smith ran his ship 'tight and loose,' meaning, tough and by-the-numbers when it counted but relaxed and less formal when not in combat or on alert. He was a very junior Lieutenant Commander, promoted, he suspected, because he was already here and Fleet was short on available officers. Most of his staff were like him: young and working above their rank and experience. He could not be 'the old man' as the Captain, so he kept meal conversation relaxed, open, and free-wheeling. But everyone knew once they left the wardroom who was the captain, and who wasn't. It was an intentionally healthy and interesting place to be. Dan insisted on it.

  By dinner time, the word was out among the crew that there was a black mission afoot, having something to do with the sick bay and the mysterious tough-looking doctor they had picked up.

  Dinner that night was roast pork with sweet potatoes, green beans, and sauerkraut. After walking the buffet and taking a seat, Scranton looked at the table and then across at Melville. "How do you get this stuff out here?"

  Melville looked over at James Murphy, Columbia's logistics officer, who answered for her. "It's a really big ship, Commander, comparatively speaking. The volume advantage on a ship like this means we can carry a lot more supplies, in proportion to the size of the crew, than smaller vessels. Vegetables and fruit are flash frozen, and the meats are shrink-wrapped and radio-sterilized. It makes for very long shelf life."

  Scranton just shook her head. "That crew on the shuttle —"

  "Are having steak tonight." Murphy interrupted.

  Smith looked at Murphy in mock surprise and anger.

  "Murph, you gave away my steaks?"

  "More like sold, sir, and not all of them," he said between bites, "but yeah, your personal stash got hit kinda hard."

  Scranton found herself unsure how much of this was banter and how much was real. Across the table, she could see Powell failing to suppress a grin, and next to him Melville wasn't doing much better. Murphy, as head thief and underhanded back-door deal-maker, was a running gag in the wardroom.

  "What did you get for them?"

  Murphy pointed across the table. "Commander Scranton's stuff." Now the joke was obvious, and Scranton laughed nervously as well.

  "Good deal, Murph. We'll need it."

  "Yessir, I thought you'd say that."

  The truth, of course, was that Smith had arranged for Murphy to treat the shuttle crew to a decent meal. Even the larger Fleet Shuttles had limited space, so 'real' food was at a premium. As Scranton had experienced on the way out, they had had nutritionally correct but fairly dull reconstituted meals. Smith treated them whenever the stores permitted, and the shuttle crews appreciated it.

  "Speaking of supplies, Lieutenant Murphy, how are we doing?"

  "Not bad, sir, but not great, either. I had to rotate some stuff forward before we put in the additional food and other supplies for this trip."

  "How much longer?"

  "I'll need all of tomorrow, boss. Sorry."

  "So, how about we plan on departing Friday morning?"

  "Yes, sir, that would give me plenty of time. If you can live with that, it will take a little pressure off the crew as well."

  "OK then, let's call it 0600 Friday."

  "Yes, sir, that works for me, thanks."

  By the end of the meal, there was only Scranton and Melville still remaining with Smith in the wardroom.

  "Doctor Scranton, you've put in some very tough days. Get some sleep and make it an easy day tomorrow. There will be plenty of time for you to get set up before we get to the Sigma engagement site."

  She shook her head. "Captain, I need to keep at it until I have the equipment ready. There is so much to do —"

  "Commander, I talked to Lieutenant Small. You haven't slept more than a couple hours in d
ays."

  Scranton looked hard at him. "I think I am in a far better position than you to determine my fitness to do my job." After a moment she added, "Sir."

  Smith inclined his head and softened his tone but not his message. "Really, Commander, it's time to let up a little. I asked you for a full briefing for the officers, but let's make that Thursday morning. Meantime, get some sleep. If you need some help with that, Gerry Knight can give you something."

  "But Captain..." she started, then seemed to wilt slightly.

  Melville, who had not spoken during this exchange, looked at Scranton.

  "Susan, this is your first trip this far out?"

  Scranton nodded, ignoring or missing Melville's familiarity.

  "I have learned the value of pacing myself. The skipper is correct. You need a rest."

  "Yes, Lieutenant," she surrendered.

  "OK, that's settled," Dan said, relieved. "But remember that the days can get fuzzy out here and it's easy to work more than is really healthy. Do your job but be mindful of yourself as well. You can't complete your task if you’re passed out from exhaustion." Smith stood up, motioning the two women to remain seated. "Easy day tomorrow, Commander, then you can do the full mission briefing Thursday morning. I will be in my duty cabin. Good night."

  Scranton left shortly afterward, slightly disappointed by her first confrontation with the captain. Maybe he has a point, she conceded quietly. She returned to her quarters, tried to reread some research on cross-species DNA markers and identification without really absorbing anything new, and eventually turned in.

  Later that evening, Melville took a walk around the darkened ship, chatting with the on-duty crew. She ended up at the Captain's duty cabin. She paused, reconsidering, then knocked.

  "Come." As she opened the door, Smith was at his desk reading a personnel file which he closed as she entered.

  "Yes, Lieutenant?" She paused again, standing just inside the door of the tiny cabin, which she slid closed behind her. The duty cabin was only intended for the Captain to use while underway, so that he or she was only a few seconds from the Bridge. There was a desk with a few shelves built into the wall, a bunk above, and not much else. Calling it 'Spartan' didn't describe it adequately.

  "Don't push her too hard, Dan. She's new out here. She'll figure it out."

  "I know, Alona, I know. I don't want to bully her. But Small said she had been living on coffee and cereal bars for days. She was worried Scranton wouldn't make it to the station. And, she looked like hell at dinner — just plain exhausted. I had to break the cycle."

  Melville nodded agreement. "Yes, this time, I agree. But we can't dictate every officer's work life. She's obviously highly motivated."

  Smith leaned forward, his hands on his chin. "More than motivated, I think. There's something else driving her. Something deeper." He thought for a moment. "OK, after tomorrow we'll keep an eye on her but let her find her own way."

  Alona looked at him for a few seconds. "Would you have grounded a male officer like that?"

  Dan leaned back in his chair, a pained look on his face. "Oh, Alona, you know me better than that. She's right on the cusp of burnout, and this whole mission turns on her personal performance. Her gender was, and is, irrelevant."

  Melville nodded and slipped out without saying anything more.

  The night passed quietly after that.

  Powell spent most of the evening reviewing his college biology. He needed to freshen his understanding of DNA, RNA, mitochondria, and basic cell dynamics. He had no trouble getting to sleep after that.

  Smith finished reading Scranton's personnel file, such as it was. BS from Western Michigan, MD from Wisconsin, Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins. She did research on inherited childhood diseases at Mayo until abruptly joining the Fleet just days after the Inor attack. After the academic officer orientation course, she appeared at FleetIntel as a Lieutenant Commander. Pretty common stuff for an expert spook.

  Melville watched a movie, then snuck out of her cabin to check on Scranton. After confirming with the night sick bay crew that Scranton was in her quarters, she turned in for the night.

  Katch drafted a letter to his wife and son and filed it for transmission when they were off EMR restriction. Then he had a few shots of Jack from his hidden cache and fell asleep on the floor by his bed, fully dressed.

  The next morning found Powell back reading up on his biology. He had coffee with Melville in the wardroom, then drew a third cup to take back to his cabin. Susan Scranton wandered into the wardroom as Powell was leaving.

  "Feeling better, Doctor Scranton?" he asked.

  "I guess," she mumbled. "Ask me again after coffee."

  "Yes, ma'am," he said happily as he went back to his books.

  Scranton slid into a seat across from Melville and sipped her coffee gently. It was pretty good but really hot.

  "Decent coffee. The stuff on the shuttle was crap."

  Melville just looked at her. "Like Murph said last night, we have a lot more storage space per crewmember than a shuttle. So, we have a few advantages."

  "I don't like being ordered to bed like a child," she finally said. "I am an officer in this Fleet, and I deserve more respect."

  "You weren't treated like a child, Doctor Scranton. Both the captain and I felt that you had been running too hard for too long. It's part of our job to look after our crew, including our fellow officers. This is an important mission, Doctor, and you are the one irreplaceable component."

  "Irreplaceable? First time I've heard that. Crazy is more commonly used. Nutty bitch, sometimes." she said bitterly.

  Melville took it all in but didn't pursue the thread further. "You won't hear that here. Breakfast?"

  There was a buffet in the pass-through kitchen window. It was somewhat depleted by earlier visitors, but they were still able to assemble a decent brunch. They sat mostly in silence. Other officers came and went.

  Finally, Melville asked, "So how are you going to spend your day off?"

  Scranton made a face. "Well, since I can't work, I think I'll review the plan for sequence analysis. We need to be able to adapt to what we find, so I was going to try to flow chart out at least some of the possibilities. And I have to prepare the briefing for tomorrow."

  Melville nodded her agreement. "Sounds good. I have some good old movies on in my media box if you're interested."

  Scranton's look made it plain she had no plans for movies today.

  OK, I tried, Alona thought. At least she'll have a slower day.

  Columbia

  Kapteyn Station

  Thursday, September 15, 2078, 0830 UTC

  Susan Scranton stood at the far end of the wardroom table, the title slide of her presentation 'Project Helix' displayed in the standard fonts and colors the Fleet required. The officers were all in place within a few minutes, coffee mugs in hand. She took a deep breath and began.

  "I know much of this will be old news to some of you, but I believe it is necessary that we all have a grasp of our current understanding of exo-biology and how that affects the plans for this mission."

  She looked around the room. So far, so good.

  "Our first firm evidence of life beyond Earth was from Mars in the early 2030s. We found fossilized bacteria and primitive multicellular organisms similar in appearance to those on the early Earth. There was no DNA, of course, so while this finding was exciting at first, further study led to a less momentous conclusion: One could not tell, really, if these were truly Martian or whether they had been cross-contaminated from Earth."

  Powell spoke up. "Or if it was Earth that was cross-contaminated from Mars. We could, really, all be displaced Martian refugees."

  "Unlikely," Scranton replied, "since the best research so far indicates that Earth is the origin of its own life. The other thesis based on the Martian organisms, discounting contamination, was that simple life might arise fairly easily given decent conditions. It's possible Mars just wasn't warm and wet long enough for higher
forms. We should also recognize, frankly, that we're not done looking and there may yet be surprises in the rocks."

  Her next slide read 'Europa Disappointment.'

  "The concept that simple life might be easy took quite a hit when we finally got into the ocean under the ice on Europa. Instead of meter-long telepathic electric eels, or an obelisk 1 by 4 by 9, we got nothing. No bacteria, no fish, no deep ocean tube worms, nothing. It was sterile."

  "So much for Arthur C. Clarke," Katch commented.

  "Enceladus was the second instance of life. It wasn't intelligent beings or even fish, but there was simple life there. It has strange physiology based on the low pH and high concentration of metals in its environment. It looks almost like a moss or a lichen attached to the rocks at the bottom of the ocean. Its DNA has been sequenced, and we don't believe it is a contaminate. The genome is quite different from any terrestrial organism."

  Dan set down his coffee. "So, all this is pre-Drive stuff. There was no other life discovered before Inoria?"

  Scranton shook her head. "No, Captain, nothing else before Inoria. The Drive, of course, changed the whole calculus. Researchers could get on a ship in Earth orbit and be at Pluto in hours. That kind of access was a pipe dream before the Forstmann Drive. A further disappointment was the terrestrial planet at Proxima Centauri A. It looked very promising from a distance, but it also turned out to be sterile. Clearly, there are factors we don't fully understand. Chance, perhaps. If the planet has just the right conditions and all the right things happen, you get life. Otherwise, just chemistry."

  She took a breath before continuing.

  "So, let's talk about Inor. There we have a fully developed ecosystem, covering three planets, with higher and lower forms, predators and prey, vegetation, and small animals. "

  "How different from us are the Inori other than in physical appearance?" Dr. Knight asked.

  "They are quite distinct. They were technologically similar to us when we found them, except for the FTL drive and nuclear power. Their medical and physiological understanding was somewhat behind. They knew about cells and nuclei — general morphology — and that some attributes passed from generation to generation, but had no idea about DNA, RNA, or how proteins are actually built. To be fair, neither did we until the 1950s, which really isn't that long ago in scientific terms." She paused for a breath and another sip of her coffee.