Sidereal Quest

by E Robert Dunn

  "Yes, Ba’al," the deck officer answered. An internal comm-holoset bleeped for attention, and he went on, “Ba’al Sirdar, stellar cartography is now reporting that three of the Thilen Nine system's stars have just gone nova. It's just possible... I mean after all, Ba’al, there is no trace of them. The only logical explanation is that they were consumed during the supernova."

  The lord sirdar was staggered. How could this have happened? Now the Outer Rim armada was halved, and with the war, no additional ships could be sent to help keep a firm hold on this sector. Now his cruiser, the Oridian, along with the Atteries and the Ler’ia would have to keep order. Araujo-le's yellow eyes peered like twin points of fire at the hardware that continued to relay dire information on the supernova. His eyes burned with primeval hatred for the events that had interrupted the supreme reign of the Tauron Empire in this sector.

  An aide approached. "Ba’al, Quadrant Prefect Elyon Ba’al Sirdar Equerry-le from Calliopean Staging demands an update on the deployment of the Rue Saxer, the Shincarick, and the Elyon Ba’al Sirdar's cruiser, Borsos," he reported. "What should he be told?"

  Araujo-le braced himself. The Tauron's sulfurous eyes blinked incredulously at the aide. Losing three of the Outer Rim Armada's cruisers when they were so close to capturing Aidennian survivors was an unforgivable error in judgment, and he knew he had to face Equerry-le and report the failure. He felt resigned to whatever punishment waited in store for him.

  "The Oridian is now in command of the armada, and since the responsibility of that status rests with me, as fourth-in-command, I will answer. Prepare a long-range shuttle. I will rendezvous with Quadrant Prefect Elyon Ba’al Sirdar Equerry-le at Calliope and apologize to him myself."

  * * *

  Dara moved quietly through the lower deck, checking routinely on ship functioning within the life support operations and laboratory sections. The Pioneer 4 hummed efficiently about her, and a small grateful smile edged along her tired face. It felt good to be spaceborne again, free from planetary laws and hostilities. Her inspection brought her eventually into familiar territory... the Infirmary. A call from the medico computer had her turning to the wall-mounted terminal in time to catch the computer read out scrolling upward in three-dimensions. Moela’s monitors had peaked. Dara touched a call contact point on the communications panel and heard the repeat of its call signal in Moela’s living unit.

  Moela shook her head from side to side on the sweat-soaked pillow. Sweat in glistening beads streamed from her forehead. She was reflecting tension in her sleep. Hands clenching and unclenching, face contorted with the struggle that was going on in her body, she was close to some physical confrontation. Absently, Moela held her distended abdomen.

  Suddenly the beckoning signal that was coming from the living unit’s communication set shook her. She looked glassily over at Dara’s face in miniature appearing on her bedset’s small holoset.

  “Are you all right, Moela?”

  With an effort of will, she tried to steady her voice, but was partly successful. “Yes … yes… I’m fine now. Thank you, Siress.”

  Dara worked at it to keep her voice soothing. “You had me worried. Medical Computer raised the alarm. Your pulse and metabolic rate had peaked into the danger zone.”

  “It was a dream, some kind of nightmare. Nothing for you to bother about, Siress.”

  “Anything traumatic?”

  Moela shivered despite the sweat dewing her forehead. Her speech wavered as she said, “No, nothing. I’m fine now. Just tired.”

  “Then I hope you’ll sleep more peacefully. Before your work stint begins, stop by and let me run some routine tests. I’m on night-duty.”

  “Thank you. Good night.”

  It was clear Moela wanted her to sign off. Thoughtfully, Dara touched the control and the holographic mechanism blanked.

  Moela’s eyes closed with exhaustion, her skin pale and drawn, her lips dried with foam. She shuddered. Her head lolled to one side and she sighed as her figure went completely still.

  * * *

  Retho went to him. Somehow telepathically, he had known that Nicraan had needed him. It was one of the virtues of having a psionic sixth sense incorporated in a relationship.

  The lights had been dimmed to an enticing low, and Retho was warm and receptive as soon as he unsheathed himself of his regulation uniform and placed it in the stateroom’s Wardrobe’s reclamation unit. They began coupling immediately.

  They had begun in their slumber couch, but passionately began to move about the room. Retho suddenly glimpsed about amongst the desire and lovemaking and noticed he was now standing in the middle of the room, Nicraan kneeling in front of him letting Retho's legs slide down around his waist until they rested on Nicraan's hips.

  Retho's arms ached, but the bulk of his weight was now supported by the pilot's frame. Nicraan gently ran his hand along the length of Retho's hardened phallus's underside.

  Spreading the youth's buttocks as far as he could, Nicraan lowered Retho onto his lap in one quick motion. Retho squirmed as pleasure rose to meet and surpass the intrusion.

  Nicraan arched his neck forward just enough to fit the head of Retho's phallus into his mouth. Retho suddenly felt as if his were a Januarian, another kind of hermaphroditic race within The System, and was able to couple with himself. As if he was able to give and receive simultaneously.

  The room around Retho blurred and there seemed nothing in the universe except pleasure, physical gratification, and unconditional love. The two shimmered with psionic energy as their auras burst with power upon their union.

  Moving to the same position on a self-conforming chair, Nicraan's grindings became more rapid, taking on a stronger rhythm. Eagerly he sucked Retho until he exploded, filling his mouth with long-overdue warmth. Involuntarily, Retho's buttocks bucked and pitched, sending Nicraan's passion deep within him only moments later...

  * * *

  "Care to have the autodoc do an examination on you?" Dara asked, gently touching her daughter on the shoulder as she stepped fully into the Infirmary.

  "As ordered. And, I'm curious to see how the launch and the subsequent effects of being spaceborne for four rotates has affected my fetus," Moela confessed with a nod.

  Dara gestured for Moela to lie down on the extended examination biocouch. As the science officer complied, Dara moved to a complex of instruments and controls that decorated the wall behind Moela's head. She touched contact points, activating the autodoc. Dara touched several contact points in sequence on the biobed’s headboard. The autodoc hummed and the opening at the far end of the couch lit up. On a nearby console, a pair of holomonitors flickered to life.

  A holoschematic of Moela’s body shimmered transparently in the air above the diagnostic bed where the real lieutenant commander lay. All her vital organs and systems where up for clinical inspection accompanied by scrolling captions of diagnostics, Dara moved to study their readouts.

  “Physically, you appear to be doing fine. Some elevated levels of epinephrine and norepinephrine as well as cortisol. My guess is you are showing some signs of stress, which is normal after all you’ve been through," the doctor commented with a lightness in her tone, even though she kept her eyes transfixed on symbols and figures that coalesced and changed as they peaked and flat lined. Dara punched a trio of buttons on a bio console. "I'd like to have a better look inside you."

  A large holoscreen cleared, focused. It displayed a colored internal image of Moela's head and upper torso. Finer resolution could show blood flowing steadily through her arteries and veins, lungs pulsing, heart beating. At the moment Dara was more interested in the internal schematic of the small rounded shape growing inside Moela's uterus.

  Dara adjusted the scan, and the lower portion of Moela's torso came online. The unborn fetus came clearly into 3-D view. She fine-tuned a control, switched to a tighter view and finer resolution. The screen showed the fetus's organs working steadily, at a normal pace, and seemingly without effort. Sh
e studied readouts. "Vital signs continue to be strong. All major internal organs have formed, and nails have grown on its fingers and toes. Toes and fingers are distinct. Fetal blood cells are beginning to circulate within maturing blood vessels. Fetal Length: thirty centiretems. Fetal Weight: two kilograms."

  Moela smiled, glad that things were going well. The warmth she felt inside herself came through her exterior. Her eyes sparkled with glee. "That's a refreshing bit of news," she chuckled. She looked pale, tired, but seemed otherwise homeostatic. “I feel fine,” Moela said. “Siress, really I do.”

  “I know but I’d like a couple of more uterine scans. It’ll only take a moment.”

  A moment which tested Moela’s patience, already strained.

  On the Infirmary’s main holoset there was a blur on the 3-D plates, a patch that clung to the lower part of the uterus vascular reticulum. Dara studied it, touched a control and another plate slipped into position -- the same organ taken from a different position. She tapped her manicured finger at certain points on the hologram as dubious medical data patterns rolled past, side by side. There had to be a simple answer from applied science to this anomaly.

  A chill of a premonition passed through Dara. She shrugged it off and turned away from the dimming holographic display as she deactivated the autodoc. As the full-scale body holoschematic flickered and winked out, Dara asked her patient, “What happened during your sleep stint?”

  “I was somewhere in a dream,” Moela said slowly, thinking. “I felt feverishly hot; I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.”

  Dara asked, “This fever, Moela, did it last long?”

  “No. It just seemed to be there and then it was gone, leaving me feeling drained and languid for a time.”

  “And your shortness of breath?”

  “My breath returned to normal after we spoke.”

  Moela glanced at Dara; found her own puzzlement reflected in the other female’s eyes.

  “Any nausea? Loss of appetite?”

  Moela paused before answering, she knew she couldn’t lie to her siress. “I have a slight loss of appetite due to nausea. Why do you ask?”

  “From blood and urine analysis your nausea could be from a combination of ketosis, dehydration, loss of electrolytes such as sodium and potassium from excessive fluid loss... calcium depletion from too much protein and weakness from not enough carbohydrate foods... these complications are all too common with a poor dietary intake ratio of carbohydrates to proteins.”

  “Ketosis?”

  Dara smiled, then said, “When there’s an imbalance between carbohydrates and proteins, the body goes into a state of "ketosis", which is characterized by excessive fluid loss and "fruity breath", and a lowering of appetite. It’s an abnormal increase of ketone bodies in the body in conditions of reduced or disturbed carbohydrate metabolism. You have below normal phytochemical levels in your blood.”

  “So my symptoms could be dietary based?”

  With a simple nod, Dara went on to say, “I can’t be certain, but some of your symptoms could have any number of causes: from typical morning sickness to dietary imbalances to any number of genetic fetal rejection syndromes.”

  “Are you worried?” Moela frowned as she tried to read the physician’s expression.

  “As a doctor I’m naturally interested, but as your siress I am concerned.” She paused, looking at her daughter and then said, softly, “But leave the worrying to me, that’s my duty. You just enjoy this time in your life. Are you well enough to continue with your duty stint?”

  Moela rose up and off the biobed, making adjustments to her uniform as she smiled and nodded. “Please, Siress, I feel much better now.”

  Without hesitation Dara walked to where Moela stood, as a doctor would tend to a patient, a siress would sooth a child. "Well, maybe it’s better to keep busy. Now don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t,” Moela vowed.

  “You're free to go.”

  Taking her hand, Dara led Moela towards the exit -- halting as Moela kissed her siress gently on the cheek.

  "This pregnancy will be a good one. Thank you for your support." Moela blushed, shyly toying with strands of hair.

  "My support needs no recognition," Dara finally replied. "You carry within you the seed of our future. It is I who owe you thanks."

  Moela embraced her siress lovingly; then made her exit.

  Dara went to sit on the edge of the Infirmary’s workstation, deep in thought. After a moment of contemplation, she reached over to the desk’s instrumentation panel and tabbed at a contact point.

  “Pioneer Pod Four Log. Medical Status Report. Five hundred and sixty-nine rotates since launch. Medical Commander Dara Lidasiress reporting. Our science officer, Lieutenant Commander Moela Darasiress, has reported developing a nocturnal intermittent high fever of unknown origin that incapacitates her with feelings of lassitude and loss of will.”

  She paused, thinking what else to say. Diary entries were a luxury that space travel made available and she was glad to catch up on her assignments, but she had spent about as much time as could, and she felt tired. She decided to wrap the report up, instead.

  “The question is, could this fever’s sudden appearance be connected to the fact that Lieutenant Commander Moela is pregnant or is it something more? Standard anatomical, physiological, and pathological scans and tests have been run in the hopes that I could make a diagnosis and thus devise an antidote. At this time, it has defied analysis by the medical equipment at my disposal.”

  She tabbed off the diary computer and slipped off the desk like a dancer, bounced her hair at the sides with her fingertips and twisted it round. She smoothed the uniform fabric she wore and walked confidently down the corridor toward the dormitory section.

  The double-unit quarters were among the most spacious and accommodating within the Pioneer Pod Four -- the room seemed to echo with emptiness. Dara felt fatigued and worn as she returned to her room at the end of a long duty stint. The high point had been another of Moela's examinations, but that was merely one detail in a duty cycle filled with the after-throes of the emergency launch from the Thilen Nine system.

  The stateroom featured angled walls into which set the room’s modular amenities. As Dara looked around her quarters, a frown etched her fine-featured face. "Computer," she called. "Room illumination up two points." Without delay, the room grew brighter, driving some of the quiet shadows farther away.

  She walked into the bedchamber section and stripped off the regulation clothing she had worn all-rotate. This morning the uniform had been crisp and bright, but the fabric lost its vigor after too much time being worn. Set into the angled hull adjacent to the sanitary facility’s hatch was the stateroom’s Wardrober. It was the heart of the clothing replication system onboard the Pod. It was used to replace worn-out or out-grown clothing.

  Paralleling the Wardrober’s central computer terminal were the doorless closets and a phase transition chamber. Without thought, she placed the garment into the reclamation unit located within the central terminal. Touching the appropriate contact points on the computer tie-in control’s faceplate caused the unit to hum and in a brilliant flash of vaporizing light, the uniform was recycled into the ship’s primary environmental systems.

  Dara moved into the sanitary cabin and activated the controls for the unit's shower and set it for a gentle massage. She eased herself into the stall, letting out a long sigh, wanting just to blank out the troubles from her head.

  After only a few moments the shower unknotted her muscles, revitalizing and refreshing her. Once again she returned to the Wardrober and bypassed Capel’s closet, she thumbed the garments hanging in her doorless compartment. Not satisfied by what she found cached there, Dara entered in her size and a style code into the unit’s production-computer for a desired garment stored in computer memory.

  A unique piece of hardware. Similar to the biofabricators in the galley, the Wardrober mainframe started with making a virtual design of t
he object wanted to be created. The process was a bit like making a loaf of sliced bread, but in reverse. As if baking each individual slice of bread and then gluing them back together into a whole loaf (as opposed to making a whole loaf and then slicing it). Dividing a 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers – slicing layer by layer. Pure genius of taking a 2D image and creating a three dimensional object.

  Without pause, the Wardrober’s phase transition chamber located to the right of the unit’s computer tie-in control faceplate suddenly sealed its lateral walls over a headless, pseudo-mannequin contained within. There was a hum as a matter stream was routed through a network of waveguide conduits into the terminal and through the garment fabricator; tiny layers sticking together to form a solid object. As the lateral walls folded back into place, Dara could see a casual shift had transmutated on the archetype inside the phase transition chamber. Satisfied with the creation, Dara dressed again; and laid back on the expanse of the chamber's bed.

  Around her, mounted on the walls were nostalgic scenes from the planet Aidennia, pictures of the planet where she had grown up, the planet the Tauron had destroyed in their first strike within The System: the peaceful, sweeping grasslands that whispered in the wind, the soaring tower cities, the industry and deep settlements built into the walls of wide cracks plunging into Aidennia's crust ... her home city rising from the center of an ancient caldera crater.

  Capel had procured those holo-pictures for her just before the launch of the Saarien; they were an anniversary gift. Now those images wrenched her heart every time she looked at them. She thought of her sire and siress, and her childhood as the only reproductive offspring within her clan, never suspecting her future.

  Restlessness settled within the doctor, and she walked over to the room's built-in wall shelving unit. She activated the small holographs that presented past images of her family. The two youthful figures of her parents stood inside a colorful sculptured background architectural artifact. Both were tall and slender, as she was. Dara's siress's close-cropped curly hair was the color of iron, her sire wore his longer, tied at the back of his neck; it too was the hue of pepper. In another image an adolescent Dara stood with her older sibling smiling at something out of view. Dara smiled back, though the static images couldn't see her. The hologram had been taken just before her parents had boarded a luxury cruise-shuttle outbound for Aidennia’s moons. It was both a business as well as a romantic excursion for them. She fought back tears that threatened to well up inside her eyes as she had a flashback of the return flight … a ball of fire streaking across the blue sky of the local tarmac! The shuttle had begun to break apart upon re-entry … a faulty sensor in the helium-nitrogen ratio sensor had caused an overload in the retro-thrusters’ emitters … there had been a feedback surge … and …