REAP 23

by J J Perry

  Raul asked, “Why did you try to cover up the COM link? Why the duplicity?”

  Cyrus remained silent and focused on the screen. Raul pushed him aside and, in four strokes, produced the damage assessment completed by the system. “There’s the damn assessment, Cy. Now, answer the questions!” Raul was positioned between Cyrus and the terminal.

  Trapped, Cyrus stood, faced Savanna, and tried to squeeze between her and Maricia. Savanna stepped to block his exit. He backed up a step, lowered a shoulder, and, without warning, violently collided with Savanna, who staggered a couple of steps backward. Cyrus stomped to the lift and closed the door.

  “Wow,” Raul said. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “That asshole slapped you before we got here,” Maricia said.

  “For the first and last time,” she said.

  “This trip is one tough gig,” Lucinda said as she moved to give yet another hug.

  “And it’s less than 1 percent over,” Savanna said.

  5.5

  “Complex trauma,” said the tanned and perfect Lola Einstein in her breathy and delicious accent about half an hour later. “He has a 50 percent burn over the upper body, especially the head, neck, hands, and fingers with extensive deformity predicted. Our supplies for burn management are suboptimal. Also there is the skull fracture and significant neurologic damage, the full extent of which will not be apparent for months. It is superimposed over the recent surgical injury and is likely to be severe. He will be kept in a coma for three days to alleviate brain edema.”

  “What is the impact of his care on our medical supplies?” Lucinda asked.

  “Use of supplies is extensive, especially anesthesia pharmaceuticals and antibiotics.”

  “Can we make more in Science?”

  “No.”

  “Objectively,” Savanna asked, “how much does this compromise the probability of mission success if we continue with the current treatment plan?”

  “Approximately 60 percent. In addition, it creates a deficiency for childbirth management not to mention other unanticipated medical demands in the future.”

  “What is the impact if we stop now?”

  “The compromise is less than 20 percent, and there will be anesthesia available for future use.”

  “This is a logical but difficult decision,” Lucinda said. “We need to pull the plug.”

  “We should have let him die upstairs,” Maricia said, “but no one thought to ask the question. Raul, what is in the R and R about this?”

  Raul looked blank. Lola offered, “The rules and regulations state that individuals who are depleting resources to an extent that mission success is compromised by 5 percent or more may have their use of these resources curtailed.”

  “We have far exceeded 5 percent. We should stop,” Lucinda said. “Does anyone disagree?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I don’t either,” said Savanna, “but we need Cyrus in on the decision. Consensus.”

  “Intentional decision about termination of life require a three-fourths majority according to the rules and regulations,” Lola interjected.

  “Does the commander have two votes in this circumstance?” Lucinda asked.

  “No” was Lola’s response. “It is not strictly a command issue.”

  “Cyrus,” called Savanna into her communicator. There was no answer. Lucinda looked at the handheld. He was in quarters, down one floor. Savanna called again with the same response. “Let’s all go downstairs. Lola, come with us.”

  The group exited the elevator, Lucinda keeping an eye on Cyrus’s locator signal. He had remained in his and Savanna’s room. Savanna knocked. There was no response. She opened the door. Cyrus lay on the bed, watching a screen overhead. He turned his head, looked at the group, and resumed observation of the ceiling. Everyone entered including Einstein.

  “Dr. Einstein, please explain to Cyrus the resource issue we were discussing on Medical,” Savanna said.

  Einstein did so, replete with a robust set of statistics and probabilities.

  “We have voted unanimously to terminate support of Suresh,” Savanna said. “We are here in an attempt to achieve consensus. Do you care to vote?”

  “I abstain.”

  “Unanimous,” said Lucinda. “Lola, terminate all support of Dr. Parambi.”

  “Acknowledge,” responded Lola, “that support for Dr. Suresh Parambi will terminate in one minute provided there is no change in the support status for this instruction.”

  “May we leave now?” Raul asked.

  “Not yet,” Savanna said. “We are going to stay here for exactly one minute so that Cyrus cannot call and change the order in our absence.” Savanna looked up at the screen and saw naked people in an ancient Grecian orgy setting. “Cyrus, turn it off,” she requested. “Please.” He failed to respond.

  In a long, tense silence, the group waited. Lola announced that the minute had passed that support was terminated and that Dr. Parambi was dead. The group filed out of the room, Cyrus catatonic on his back.

  Maricia and Raul went to their room, hand in hand. Lola bounded up the stairs. Lucinda circled back and put an arm around Savanna’s waist. “Where do you want to go?” she asked.

  “Home would be nice.”

  “How about a drink instead?”

  6.0

  LAUNCH + 177 DAYS

  The crew of five sat at two tables pushed together. Spoon’s humor had again been deactivated, but it stayed in performance mode, balancing dishes, stacking cups, and spinning in circles.

  “I think we’ve been gone too long,” Raul said. “This omelet tasted pretty good this morning.”

  “It was probably the extra calcium,” Maricia said blandly. “This is the first day of a new diet protocol. It is also the day when we start Calphononine. We are seventy-seven days away, folks.”

  “Here is your pill,” Lucinda said as she pushed an oblong light-blue pill in front of each plate. “Take one daily, after a meal.” Lucinda swallowed hers and then watched as everyone else did the same. “The bad news is no more caffeine.”

  “That explains the change in the coffee,” Raul said.

  “Decaf for Jesus, espresso for me,” Savanna joked. No one laughed. “It’s on one of my favorite old T-shirts.”

  “I know you have all heard this before,” Lucinda said, “but this pill starts getting your bones stronger and changes the chemical composition a little bit. Weightlessness results in loss of bone mass and density. While we won’t always be completely weightless per se, the centrifugal force and this drug should prevent orthopedic catastrophes.”

  “Thanks, Luc,” said Savanna.

  “Just doing my job, Commander.”

  “Has anyone worried about having uncovered shifts in Command and Control? If you do, say something.”

  “It’s been nice,” Raul said, “to get a night’s sleep every night. The big computer, what did you call it, Sav…”

  “Bitelzebub.”

  “Bitelzebub will be in charge for thousands of years. What’s a few more months?”

  “I still think it is a good idea for one of us to review the data of the night and previous day,” Savanna said. “You can edit it and give it to Raul for transmission.” She looked at her notes. “I see all health records are current. Lucinda has taken over in Science and has made a discovery. Would you like to explain?”

  “Sure. In addition to creating a novel and highly effective aphrodisiac, Dr. Parambi worked on a modification of one of the phase one prehibernation drugs, brand name Tuphalonatide. He moved a sulfonyl group to a different locus, which resulted in a different configuration of this peptide. It is untested in humans, obviously, but appeared, by his few simulated tests, to result in less deterioration in cognitive function pre- and posthibernation. I completed a large n
umber of simulations all with results equal to or better than the original formulation. As you know, we are to start taking Tuphalonatide in about two months.”

  “No one has ever published results of more than one month of actual hibernation,” Maricia countered. “Most of the studies were done at 1 g, not reduced gravity. The truth is this drug has had very little actual human research, only simulations.”

  “The whole REAP is a crapshoot,” Cyrus broke his silence. “I think worrying about a minimal change in the shape of a peptide, just one of many drugs we’ll be using, is ridiculous.”

  “I’m only reporting what I have found. I think it is best to share information and not hide it, Cyrus,” Lucinda snapped. “As you are well aware, recommendations, if any, have to be discussed and a vote taken.”

  “Are you to the point of making a recommendation, Luc?” asked Maricia.

  “Not yet. I would like to run a huge simulation using physiologic parameters from over twenty thousand people, ten thousand in each group for a five-thousand-year period at 0.2 g. This will give me solid statistical power to detect a 1 percent improvement or decline in outcome. It will take a lot of time to run and analyze the study. At that point, I will decide if making a recommendation is in order.”

  “A 1 percent difference is meaningless when you are talking about five people,” said Cyrus. “You are wasting your time.”

  “We have nothing better to do with our time,” said Savanna, scowling at Cyrus, “than to improve our chances of survival and success.”

  “Noted, sir,” he replied and swiveled to face away from the table.

  “Savanna,” Maricia said, “may we cover the recycling issue?”

  “Go ahead, Mar.”

  “The recycling machines, since we have been out this long, are requiring more of my time for maintenance and troubleshooting. It pulls me out of Medical too much. Raul helps me out as much as he can, but I was hoping that someone else could pitch in.”

  “Almost everyone has had to assume more work, since our crew is down 38 percent,” Savanna said.

  “Everyone but Cyrus,” added Lucinda.

  This remark was followed by protracted silence. The pause was anticipated if not planned by the ladies of REAP 23. Cyrus finally turned back to the group and saw all eyes upon him. He raised one eyebrow and spoke. “I don’t think so.”

  “Look at it logically, Cyrus,” Raul said. “Savanna has two jobs, pilot and command. I have COM, the computers, and help in engineering already. Medical is fairly busy preparing for embryo creation and testing. Maricia is stretched as she just said. Lucinda runs both Medical and Science, pulling fourteen-hour days as it is. Besides, we recycled Chen and the others down there, and I can’t help but think it would be difficult emotionally for her to be down there alone.”

  “It’s bad enough for me,” Maricia interjected. “I feel like I’m working in a crypt sometimes.”

  “It stinks,” said Cyrus.

  “Literally,” said Savanna.

  “Tell me about it,” Maricia said.

  “No, thanks,” Cyrus said as he turned away again.

  “Listen, Cy,” Raul started. “Everyone but you works over twelve hours every day. Your shift is six. We all know you are angry. But you need to get past it, man.” This was met with more silence. “You lost command. You should look at that as a bonus.”

  “I’ve also been removed from my quarters.” He spoke without turning.

  “Again, you should be grateful. The ship is not designed for split-ups. There was a suite available for you. Get over it, Cy. Life goes on. We need you to pull your share of the load.”

  “I hate engineering.”

  “We could vote on this,” Lucinda said. “Savanna could also issue a directive. I doubt you want either of those cards to be played.” Cyrus looked sullen as he examined an empty corner of the room. “So just agree to work in Engineering for a couple of hours a day, and you’ll avoid all that goes with either of the options.”

  “Not much of a choice.”

  “Life is hard. Then you die,” said Savanna.

  “Two hours a day?” Cyrus asked.

  “It doesn’t exactly work like that. The need is to finish the work every day,” Maricia said. “Some days you will have nothing to do. Other days are long. We will need to communicate. Sometimes you will start, other days I will. Between us, we’ll get it done.”

  “Issue your directive at me, I don’t care. I am definitely not working in stinking Engineering.”

  Savanna said, “We’ll give you until dinner to recant.”

  Cyrus stood and raised his hand as if to deliver a blow. He stopped, reached back, rubbed his neck, and stomped out of the dining area. The tension eased slowly.

  “You know,” Raul said quietly, “when this crew came together and later after we spent some together training on the moon, I thought this was going to be fun—great, nice people, bright, witty, and kind. I thought we could live the dream of starting a planet full of the brightest and the best of the best. Moments like this make me think that the dream has become a nightmare that just keeps getting worse. The question is, who is going to come unhinged next?”

  Savanna responded, “Cyrus could not tolerate hiding things from people. Then that’s what he did to us. Now he is being stubborn.”

  “It seems more than stubborn to me,” Raul said.

  “It feels arrogant,” Lucinda said. “He acts like he is morally superior.”

  “His intention was to protect Suresh. He destroyed him instead. Now, he has not forgiven himself. Until that happens,”—Savanna paused—“unless that happens, he and I are immiscible.”

  “Demoting him and making you commander has not helped,” Lucinda added.

  “That has made it more interesting even though it was done by protocol.”

  “Control does not yet know what went on a month ago,” Raul added. “They are out of the loop now that it takes about sixty days for data to make a round trip.”

  “Savanna, you and Cyrus have about a month to get it together before we start phase three meds,” Maricia said. “They might screw with your emotional stability.”

  “His emotional stability is already gone,” Savanna responded. “Maricia, what are you going to be working on for the next month?”

  “It’s about time to start making and freezing embryos.”

  “Oh, baby!” Raul smiled.

  “That is such an old joke. You say that every time I mention in vitro fert. It was funny once, but you really need a new shtick.”

  “I’m rather fond of my shtick, dear. And you seem to enjoy it.”

  All three women put their faces in their hands and made disgusting groans.

  “Don’t you have messages to write and send?” Maricia asked with a scowl. Raul looked at six eyes with the “not welcome here” look and stood.

  “See you later,” he said as he exited. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to the group. “I can help you with engineering. Bitelzebub could be programmed to take over more of the recycling. I think it is on the slow mode, the one that it will use during the big sleep. I could probably make it more efficient.”

  “Why did you wait until now?” Maricia asked.

  “I guess I did not fully understand.”

  “I could use the help, and Cyrus needs to wallow out of his self-pity.”

  “Novel approach to that problem, coercing him with the threat of torture.”

  “It’s not torture,” Savanna said. “But it is unpleasant.”

  “A rose by any other name would still have thorns.”

  “OK, Dr. Jung, what would you suggest?”

  “Maricia tells me that behavior changes faster with reward than with punishment. If you want him to interact more and get out of his funk, then figure out a positive.”

  He turned to
leave. “Come back, genius, and continue,” Savanna said. “Leave the theoretical and reenter reality. Give us a specific.”

  Facing them, he looked vacuous for a long moment. “I don’t have one.”

  “Thanks, Raul,” Lucinda said. “Talk to us when you do.”

  Raul left. For thirty minutes, the women meandered through frivolities and profundities and ended at practicalities. They couldn’t afford to lose one more person. They produced a rough plan about how to help Cyrus return to the crew from the vortex of depression.

  6.1

  LAUNCH + 159 DAYS

  That afternoon, Cyrus was going through numbers from the pilot console in CAC. The ship was traveling at about half the speed of light. Control back home would measure their velocity somewhat differently. Relative to clocks on Earth, less time had elapsed on board than on the planet, thank you, Dr. Albert Einstein. Today, for example, twenty-four hours on a clock left behind was a little under twenty-two hours on board. By base time, the mission left about 167 days ago. The faster they traveled, the larger became the disparity of measured time and velocity. What Cyrus could not get his mind around was that he was about 9 percent larger than the clothes he left behind. The space-time paradox was difficult to grasp despite the fact it had been accepted for centuries.

  He looked at the temperature readings from the “skin” of the ship. Most of the sensors read -269 degrees centigrade, about 4 degrees above absolute zero. The nose of the engine read 24 degrees Celsius. At seven-tenths the speed of light, their goal in ninety days, the temperature, they had projected would be 110 degrees, enough to create steam that would power the ship and allow the nuclear generator to be dormant. Theirs was a plutonium reactor. Assuming they needed the reactor to fire up as they were decelerating in five or six thousand of their years, the plutonium would still be there, 13 percent less potent than it was now having decayed in cold storage.