The ore was either stored in the hangar or moved to the rear of the bay and poured down a series of chutes into a carefully monitored furnace in the ship’s Lab wing. The ore thereby never reached a pressurized environment – it was stored for future use or else dumped into the furnace, melted, and promptly refined into usable fuel. Other raw materials gathered during supply runs would be treated in the same manner… super-heated before use. This was the second level of the Pathfinder’s quarantine process.
Although technically they could recycle water indefinitely, it had been Kaufield’s experience that the process of living, breathing and working in a human society inevitably created some rather disgusting substances and chemicals. He was relieved that their exploration of the new star system had also yielded a large supply of ice. That gave him the opportunity to dump much of the normal waste material they had accumulated on their journey thus far without having to ask their technicians to reclaim the water from it first. The members of his crew were specially trained to do the difficult tasks whenever necessary but sometimes it was better for morale if they simply jettisoned the nastier stuff. All they had to do was make sure they had a matching supply of easier-to-obtain resources first. As with the fuel ore, the ice was heated into steam, then condensed and finally filtered into usable water before any of it was transferred to the upper areas of the ship.
If an emergency occurred, the large starship was also capable of landing directly on a planet, moon or asteroid to directly gather resources. Having the Pathfinder immediately available on site would greatly speed up the process of mining, gathering, and transporting supplies to the ship. That was an option that the Captain was glad they didn’t need, presently. He had heard through the grapevine that everyone on the ship – except for Julie and her Observatory staff – was currently referring to the star system they had found as the “Atomic Nightmare”. And it most certainly was that, according to several of the pilots who had found lots of surprises amidst the various pockets of unpredictable gravity that one would expect in such a cluttered star system. Keeping the re-supply effort limited to fighters and shuttles was definitely preferable and a positive for them this time.
So far they hadn’t truly needed anything except for water in order to supplement supplies for the Garden and Livestock wings. That was also a positive, because any soil, plants, or other living things that they might need above the hangar deck would have to pass quarantine level three… a precise, methodical analysis and review by the botanist, medical, and veterinary teams on board. Anything other than unanimous approval from those specialists would prompt Dennis to restrict the resource from moving above the hangar bay. No set of precautionary procedures was ever perfect, but on a ship like the Pathfinder – filled with all sorts of living people, plants, and animals – they had to do the best that they could. One unknown bacteria or virus slipping aboard undetected could quickly infect vital personnel and interfere with ship functions before they even had a chance to respond. Especially in this case they were being extra cautious since the patrol team, led by Noriana Andrews, had found traces of what might have once been biological life on several of the planets. Only a science team could tell for certain.
It was therefore extremely unfortunate that, on this, the first of many resupply missions, one member of the crew chose to ignore the quarantine process and deliberately slipped a few of the mineral rocks into the pocket of his flight suit. The Brotherhood spy hidden among the crew knew that he would be searched before leaving the hangar bay, but was not the least bit concerned, since he remembered that those procedures were set up to handle carelessness and not a deliberate effort at deception. He had gone through the drills, was trained in proper procedure, and certified by ship’s security as a deckhand specialist. He was very confident that he would still be able to smuggle the small rocks back to his quarters. And everyone knew that unrefined ore of this type was usually unstable. He visualized the Pathfinder’s configuration in his mind and began reviewing possibilities as to just where a small, well-placed explosive device would do the most damage.
Revenge would soon be his trophy to claim on this journey.
* * * * *
Thomas Roh had spent an unbearable two weeks trying to adjust to his new medication in the privacy of his quarters. The lack of something, anything to do was driving him nuts and he had tried everything he could think of to settle down and make himself feel useful again. Adam had been by during the morning hours to visit for a few minutes before his duty shift started. He had encouraged Thomas to get out and about for a bit… perhaps to try one of the restaurants on their passenger deck. He had refused, still too ashamed to go out and let people see him after his perceived failure. It was almost noon now and so far this day he had accomplished nothing.
Once again the younger Roh settled down in the easy chair behind his desk and attempted to read. His complete inability to concentrate on written text for any length of time was really frustrating him, particularly when he could normally buzz through a tremendous amount of reading material and absorb the vast majority of it with his near photographic memory in a few short hours.
The medication that Dr. Simmons had given him helped him sleep for the first week or so, but it had clouded his mind. The sharp focus and ability to concentrate that had always been a key factor in Thomas’ ability to do work was completely disrupted, and – after ten days of trying unsuccessfully to regain his ‘normal’ mental faculties the young man had simply made the decision to stop taking the medication altogether and take charge of restoring himself to his original, undamaged condition. After all, he reasoned, no one could order him to take medication that everyone admitted would have at least some side effects and impair his normal performance.
Naturally he hadn’t told anyone. Dr. Simmons had checked in on him almost every day for the first week. After she was satisfied that he was sleeping okay, she had simply given him a prescription for the three types of pills that he was supposed to take regularly and requested that he notify her if there were any side effects. Side effects, he thought grimly to himself. The anti-depressant alone had been sending him to the toilet twice an hour every time he finished eating a decent meal, not to mention the dizziness and the morning dry-mouth.
But things weren’t working out quite like he had anticipated. He had still been able to put on a normal facade during his morning visit with Adam, but things were getting out of control again. To Thomas’ horror had come the realization that – without the medication to help him – he could no longer fall asleep normally on his own. Once again he had gone four straight nights without a wink of sleep and his brain was beginning to feel the effects. Further, the paranoid little voice in his mind that had plagued him during his dream-like states was becoming more and more insistent in its claims that he was somehow screwing everything up again.
Thomas had never been angrier at God or at himself. Why couldn’t he deal with the anxiety that 99 percent of the crew were currently handling? Why was he the one that this was happening to? Everyone else could fall asleep at night without pills to help them. With nothing to do but sit in his cabin and think about it he had simply confused himself more. His plan to return to work as soon as possible and resume his duty assignment now seemed like a near impossible task.
He also knew that Adam had been dating Nori Andrews for some time, and the lack of romance in his own life also frustrated him. He was an intelligent fellow, true, but keeping up with Adam was a constantly moving goalpost that he had found harder and harder to chase with each passing year. He knew his brother only seemed perfect, but he could not deny the glaring fact that a lot of the social and physical graces that seemed to come so easily to the elder Roh had always required considerably more effort from him. He had never understood how some of the things that took every ounce of his effort and concentration to achieve just seemed to come so naturally for other people… especially Adam.
He had started to cry again. Tears rolled down his cheeks… ye
t another reason why he didn’t want the rest of the crew to see him. A grown man crying? What a pathetic display he was putting on as one of only two Roh representatives on board! He had to admit that Dr. Simmons was correct and that no miracle cure would be forthcoming, so what use was he? On a ship where everybody was supposed to contribute as much as possible in order for the ship as a whole to function properly, what was he going to do – swab the decks? He had already decided that he was not going to be some sort of eccentric shut-in for others to laugh at… eating the ship’s food and sitting in his quarters just staring at the walls and ceilings. That was not going to happen – not with the few remaining survivors of his people left on board who were relying on those scarce and precious resources in order to possibly build a new future.
He stared furiously at the three bottles of medication sitting innocently on the top of the nightstand next to his bed. Under normal circumstances it was only five hours until his evening dose. He was supposed to take one pill from the bottle on the left at 5:00 p.m. and then one pill from each bottle an hour before bedtime. He repeated the last two words angrily in his head: “before bedtime”.
What if he wanted to stay up and pull an all-nighter studying?
This is no way to live, he decided suddenly. He stood up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, embarrassed by his inability to control his emotions and determined to avoid becoming yet another problem for Captain Kaufield and his busy crew. His mind analyzed the problem and came up with a projection as to how far his condition would continue to deteriorate without sleep. Four short days this time was all it had taken and he was already a babbling idiot.
He puffed up his chest with pride and remembered that he had mentally assumed responsibility for dealing with his condition at the moment he decided to stop taking the medication as prescribed. Without any hesitation whatsoever – he tossed aside the bottle of anti-depressants and picked up the remaining two bottles. He didn’t swallow all the pills they contained but he came close… needing another glass of water to finish the job. That done he laid down on his back and faced the ceiling. He had come to know it pretty well in the past two weeks and, hopefully after tonight, he would never have to look at it again. Thomas didn’t remember the exact point where he finally fell asleep…
…but all of a sudden he was awake and laying on his back in one of the Medical Ward beds, staring at that room’s ceiling. He stretched his arms and legs to make certain that he was still alive and found… to his disbelief… that he was extremely glad he had failed in the attempt to take his own life. Dr. Simmons came in and noticed that he was awake – he didn’t dare say anything and she picked up one of his test results, then turned and left the room without saying a word.
I’m sorry, he tried to yell at her, but common sense wouldn’t let him say the words. I’m sorry for being such a pathetic excuse for a man! I’m sorry I tried to save the ship the trouble of caring for me and bungled the attempt! I’m sorry for everything! He found his eyes streaming with tears again and he finished with a simple, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Doctor…
Karen came back in and set some equipment on one of the counters near a sink. She worked for a moment with her back facing him. Finally, she turned around and pulled up a chair, sitting down next to his bed. “I just have three questions for you right now, Thomas. Then I’ll let you rest for the day.”
“Okay,” he said, trying and failing to hide the shame he felt.
“What would you have done when we were stuck dead in the water back in our home star system if I had stopped by, interrupted your CAS testing, and ordered you to help me out with disinfecting some of my equipment here in the Medical Ward.”
“That’s easy,” he replied. “I’d have told you that I had Captain’s orders to get the CAS Drive on-line and that giving orders contrary to his is not your responsibility.” She sat quietly for a moment and let him think about his answer.
“What if I had offered to take over your part of the CAS testing while you were gone? That way, no one would have noticed your absence.”
“Are you nuts …?” Thomas started to say. “I studied for years just to grasp the basic concepts of CAS, and you don’t know anything about…” He stopped talking at the sudden realization of just how foolish his actions had been. Another wave of shame swept through him and he wiped the tears from his eyes, suddenly noticing that his left hand was bandaged. Again he saw the Doctor looking at him angrily.
“I’ll tell you how your hand was injured if you really want to know…” she said.
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he decided.
“Just remember to thank your brother later,” she added. “If Adam hadn’t stopped by to check on you when his shift ended yesterday evening you wouldn’t be here chatting with me right now. That’s how close you came to succeeding, young man!” Karen stood up and moved the chair back to its original location near the sink. “Final question,” the Doctor continued. “Adam said that you’ve commented to him on numerous occasions that you’re not quite the natural athlete that he is… how you have to stick more to the software programming side of things because you’re not the type who’s going to make a career out of moving heavy equipment back and forth.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Thomas said slowly.
“Well then, that makes your brain your greatest asset,” she said quickly. “So will you please use it from now on? As far as I can tell, your little overdose incident hasn’t caused you any permanent damage but we’ll have to let time be the final judge on that one.”
“Oh no…” gasped Thomas as it occurred to him how big a price he almost paid by dying, and how much permanent damage he had risked to himself by taking matters into his own hands. “Oh no…”
“Oh yes!” the Doctor said firmly. “Do you have any idea just what kind of emotional damage you’d have done to Adam by taking your own life? He doesn’t have a lot of family left, Thomas, and you almost made him live with his brother’s suicide, too. Not to mention all the friends you’ve made who still care a great deal about your welfare… even if you don’t think they do.” She stopped in the room’s doorway and pointed at three brand new bottles on the counter. “I’ve prescribed a different anti-depressant for you. That one small change should take care of your loose stool problems after meals. You’re going to stay right here in the Medical Ward until I’m satisfied you’ve had two full nights of sleep. Then you’re going back to your quarters, where you will stay until I think you’re ready for limited duty assignments. And if I hear or see anything that makes me believe you’re not following my instructions to the letter…” she paused for dramatic emphasis. “…I’ll assign one of my staff to stay with you, as your roommate, twenty-four hours a day and personally make certain you take your medication as prescribed. Do I make myself clear, mister?”
“I thought you were going to ask three questions and then that would be it.” Thomas said wryly, smiling weakly. He expected her to lose control and begin shouting, but she actually smiled a bit at his joke and it made him feel better.
“Dr. Hagen says that you haven’t been keeping your appointments. I expect that will change too.” She disappeared out the door without another word. Thomas leaned his head back deep into his pillow and held up his bandaged left hand. He had absolutely no memory of anything that had happened after he had fallen asleep in his quarters, and he found himself feeling extremely happy about that.
* * * * *
The spy had been in his quarters for most of the morning and part of the afternoon. It was his day off, after all. On his desk sat three small dark stones that he had managed to smuggle back to the room concealed in his mouth. It had actually made him chuckle how easy it was to simply acknowledge people with a nod instead of the usual hello and have them pass by none the wiser. He picked up one of the stones and began scraping powder off of its surface with a letter opener. He let the powder fall into a small pile on the desk, occasionally pausing for a brief moment
to scrape the dust into a paper envelope.
Just three small stones was all that he would need. Three. Once reduced to powder he had only to mix the substance with a small supply of liquid fuel – easily obtainable from the shuttle tanks during normal hangar bay maintenance – and he would have at his disposal a very small, very powerful explosive device. All that remained was for him to choose a final spot on the Pathfinder where his little surprise would do the most damage. He was still very determined to make the crew pay for what they had done to his people on the warship, and for taking him so far away from his home. Unexpectedly, he heard something behind him.
Startled, the Brotherhood clone spun in his chair and stared at the far side of the room. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he had detected movement and – since he was definitely in the process of breaking ship’s regulations and committing treason – he was understandably a bit paranoid. There was no one else in his quarters but he nonetheless sat motionless for quite some time. He could swear he had seen movement and he was also certain that he had heard the soft rustle of someone moving around back there. Fear was not something that he had been trained to feel, but right now the emotion was raging throughout his entire body.
THE PATHFINDER PROJECT
Chapter X: Phantasmagoria
The Pathfinder Project Page 16