Alien Earth

by Megan Lindholm

  “I knew you wouldn’t want him to see you like this. You can do it, Connie, you can take care of yourself. You don’t want to lose his respect, do you? Come on, Connie. Med chamber is only a little ways, at the very next juncture of the corridors. You’ll make it.”

  She thought that moving was actually helping her, until another wave of shaking forced her to pause and simply cling to a rung until it had passed. “What happened?” she wailed aloud to the dim corridor. “What’s gone wrong, what happened to me?”

  “You’ll be okay,” Tug repeated. “Move to the next rung, come on, you can do it.”

  And she found she could, one rung at a time, and then she was in the med chamber, and Tug sealed the door behind her and she felt the welcome rise in temperature. He already had a cocoon in readiness. She stumbled into it and snapped it shut. Shakily she pulled up the flexible hood and adjusted the facial seal. “Seal tight?” she asked Tug weakly.

  “The monitors say so,” he replied, and a moment later she felt the warm rush of water against her skin. The cocoon swelled gently, enveloping her body in water and warmth. She felt the swift current of the water around her body and knew it was carrying away dead skin even as it stimulated her circulation. Her knees gave suddenly, but the cocoon supported her and continued its work. Across the room, she dimly heard the chunk of the food dispenser and saw a large tumbler drop into a warmer. It would be ready for her when the cocoon released her. As her temperature stabilized, she suddenly found she could think more clearly.

  “What happened?” she demanded in an almost-steady voice.

  “I misjudged,” Tug replied honestly. The rush of water within the cocoon muffled his voice slightly. “I wanted to have a private word or two with you before you spoke with John. So I hurried the Wakeup process, so there would be some time for us before he expected you to report. I guess your metabolism is touchier than I realized. I’m sorry, Connie. Truly I am.”

  Her mind digested it for a few moments. Then, “It’s okay,” she muttered, mostly because she couldn’t think of what else to say. Wakesickness could be fatal in extreme cases. But surely Tug had seen it before, and if she’d been that bad off, he would have called John. Wouldn’t he? Once again she realized her complete dependence on his goodwill. It was not a reassuring feeling.

  The cocoon seemed to judge that she was recovering. Gradually the water was suctioned away. A warm wind replaced it, drying her body gently and completely. Moments later the seal on the cocoon popped open. She stumbled out and accepted a warm moist towel from a dispenser. She cleansed her face, gently working the gook from around her eyes, and then used it to clean up the fragments of loose skin between her toes and fingers that the water hadn’t been able to swirl away. Better. Her body felt better, but that did nothing for the torn feeling within her. She longed to rung down the corridor as fast as she could, find John, and hand the problems to him. He was the captain, he should know what to do about all of it. And he had, she realized dully as she removed her drink from the warmer. He’d warned her about solitary Wakeups with Tug. He’d just never told her how to avoid them.

  She took a long draw of the warm sweet liquid, and then punched up a fresh uniform. As she drew on her tunic and trousers, she noticed that the fabric was thicker, warmer, and softer than normal issue. Probably standard procedure after someone had had a rough Wakeup. She took up her drink again and curled up with it in a lounger. She tried to frame some remark to Tug, but could come up with nothing. She waited for him to speak.

  “I’m so sorry, Connie,” he said again. “I just wanted some time to talk to you before John did.”

  “So you said,” she replied a bit testily. “I said it was okay. Now. What did you need to talk to me about?” For that matter, she wondered why John wanted to talk to her. She was sure the two were connected.

  “I know I upset you on your last Wakeup. I shouldn’t have enlisted you to play that tape for me. I certainly shouldn’t have tried to coerce you into replaying the entire thing. And I shouldn’t have been so insistent that there was more than what you were telling me. I realize now I probably was reading more into the situation than it merited. So I wanted to apologize. I didn’t want you going before John feeling upset with me; or feeling that you had done anything wrong. I tricked you into it, you know. None of it was your fault.”

  “Okay,” she said after a guarded moment of silence. She waited for what she was certain would follow.

  “Are you going to tell John about it?” Tug asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” she replied honestly.

  “I did apologize, you know. And I promise nothing of the sort will ever happen again.” He paused hopefully.

  Connie was silent.

  “We did agree, at the very beginning, Connie, to keep one another’s confidences. I guarantee to you, I have never betrayed even one of your secrets to John.”

  “My secrets?” she asked numbly. Other than ransacking John’s recording for Tug, she hadn’t thought she had any. A sudden cold pit opened in her stomach. The warm sweet liquid she sipped churned unpleasantly; she felt a wash of acid up the back of her throat.

  “Well, not secrets, exactly. Just perfectly normal things about you that might somehow change John’s opinion of you. Such as that you don’t really approve of our present mission.”

  Connie relaxed slightly.

  “And that your underwent Readjustment, and that the records indicate it was involuntary. Oh, not the records that John has access to, of course. Only the ones that I, as owner of the vessel, can access in the name of ship’s security.”

  For a moment she thought the Wakesickness was coming back, the chill she felt was so real. She held her breath for a count of ten, then asked, “Any other little threats you’d like to make, Tug?”

  “Why, Connie!” His astonishment sounded so genuine. “I’m shocked that you could construe my remarks in such a way!”

  “Just my badly adjusted nature, I suppose.” She rose, dumped the drink, cup and all, into the disposer, and runged toward the chamber entrance. She tugged at the handle; the door didn’t budge.

  “Connie …”

  “John is going to wonder what took me so long.”

  “I simply wished to add one last remark to our conversation. Act in your own best interests. This time, at least, you will find it the harmonious thing to do.”

  The door opened suddenly to her tug and she had to recover her balance before flinging herself off down the corridor. Her mind raced faster than her body as she followed the illumination. At last she gave up trying to figure out what she was going to do; she was tired of thinking, and trying to handle things. Let happen what would happen.

  He was finishing up his last lap as Connie came in. He glanced up as she entered. Tug had been at her. John recognized that weary, used look from his own face in the mirror some days. He gave himself an extra lap to allow her some time to settle herself; the way she looked now, he had a feeling that she’d burst into tears the first time he spoke to her. He could do without that. So he gave her a silent wave and continued with his exercise.

  She looked around the chamber with a hesitant air that told John she hadn’t been using it regularly, despite his initial strong recommendation. Guess he’d have to make it an order. As he came alongside her again he slowed to a fast walk, and waved to her to join him. She attempted it, but he soon realized he’d have to cut his stride to a pace comfortable to both of them. He must be growing again. He made a mental note that this probably accounted for some of his irritability and that he should make allowances for it. “Count ten before reacting,” he counseled himself, and then tried not to snort at how foolish it sounded, even to himself.

  “Pardon?” Connie asked faintly.

  “Nothing.” He glanced across at her. She looked more than pale; “green as glass,” wasn’t that the old saying? A sheen of sweat already misted her face. She didn’t look to be in that poor of condition, but he abruptly decided there was no sense in
pushing it. “Fuge off, Tug,” he ordered abruptly, and as quickly felt the almost-sickening lurch as the artificial gravity dropped. Connie all but stumbled and John caught himself reaching out to take her arm. He started to pull back, but she had already caught at the proffered support.

  “Touch of Wakesickness, maybe,” she muttered.

  “More than a touch,” John replied sourly as all his suspicions seized on this new bit of evidence. His earlier plans to attempt to privately brief her on some of the more unusual aspects of the mission evaporated. It wouldn’t be worth all the effort it took to exclude Tug from a conversation within the ship; not if any confidences he entrusted to her would be immediately spilled.

  “I’m thirsty,” he said abruptly, and left the fuge to head for the food dispenser at the other end of the gym. He moved awkwardly, for Connie did not relinquish her grip on his forearm. He all but pushed her into the first lounger they came to. He couldn’t say why her weakness irritated him so. He felt her eyes on him as, unencumbered by her, he swiftly runged the rest of the room.

  As he punched in his food requests, he spoke over his shoulder to her. “I’m ordering up something for you to eat or drink. One of the quickest and most efficient ways to relieve Wakesickness is to eat something with sugar in it, preferably something liquid. I’m surprised your auto-training didn’t have that in it.”

  “It did,” she said shakily. “I … just didn’t take time to finish drinking it. I thought you wanted me to report immediately.”

  “I did. But Tug should have notified me that you were reacting poorly to Wakeup.” John stacked the trays the dispenser belched out and turned back to her. “Have you ever had problems with Wakeup before?”

  “This is the first time,” she said, glancing aside as she spoke. “It’s not really that bad. I didn’t want Tug to alarm you.”

  John folded his lips in disgust as she lied. Dammit, he didn’t need this. He tried to decide if she was lying out of loyalty to Tug, or if he already had some hold on her. Then he gave it up as a useless puzzle. Why bother? The simpler way to solve it was to prevent it getting any worse. Everything would be a little more difficult for him, knowing he could not trust Connie with any of the aspects of their real mission. Still, he thought he could manage it.

  He reached her side, pushed her tray into her hands. “Drink and eat now. And not too fast, or you’ll just be sicker.”

  “You ever have Wakesickness?” Connie asked as she peeled the cover off her tray and freed the straw in the drink.

  “Once or twice. I still get it occasionally, when Tug is irritated with me.”

  “I have never deliberately induced Wakesickness in you.” Tug’s voice was remote and cool.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to chime in.” John paused, cleared his throat. “Tug, it will be entered into the ship’s log that I consider negligent your failure to immediately notify me that Crew Connie Gen-103-Castor-Horticol-six was suffering from Wakesickness.”

  “Please, it wasn’t that serious,” Connie began but Tug’s voice boomed over hers.

  “It shall be entered in my records that said incident did not seem grave, and that said crew recovered quickly with no ill effects.”

  “Goody for you,” John said dryly.

  “If the captain had not indicated he wished to see said Crew immediately, I would not have hastened the Wakeup process.”

  John sighed out through his nose. “Tug, note into your records that I am now informing you that unless I specifically state there is an emergency that requires the crew to be mobilized as swiftly as possible, I do not, repeat, do not ever authorize any crew to be awakened in any less time than their metabolism records suggest as optimum. I should think that such a notice would be unnecessary, but now you have it, and I consider this incident closed.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” Tug opined snidely, but fell silent.

  John turned his attention to Connie. “Connie!” he began, the name coming out more sharply than he meant it to. She started as if he had jabbed her with a needle, and then almost came to attention in her lounger.

  “At ease, please. And go on eating while I talk to you. You look terrible.” She picked up a biscuit as if he had ordered her to, and obediently bit off the corner. John held in his annoyance. He supposed it was the best he could expect from her. Tug had made inroads on her much faster than he had expected him to. A shame. She’d had potential, initially. He’d thought her desire for privacy would have helped her keep Tug out of her life. Evidently the Arthroplana had already found some sort of hold on her.

  “I wanted to see you personally to initiate some changes in standing orders. Tug, are you attending this?”

  “Of course.”

  “Yes. As if there was ever anything said on this ship that you didn’t listen in on. For the duration of this mission, Connie’s Wakeups are to begin precisely seventy-two hours after my own. Without rushing the Wakeup process, I’ll add. They are to terminate at the same hours as my own Wakeup periods. Connie, upon awakening, you are to report to me within one hour. I trust that will allow you sufficient time to cleanse and refresh yourself. Unless I have other orders for you, you will then consult your duty screen and perform in order all tasks listed on it, incorporating standard breaks and rest periods into the schedule. Uh, I’ll be including with those tasks specific physical exercise times and specific activities I want you to practice during those periods. I am not currently satisfied with your physical condition.”

  “Connie is under no responsibility to perform physical exercises other than the minimum requirements outlined in the Crew Rights Bill,” Tug broke in cheerily. “I’d be happy to display those minimums on screen for her, anytime she’d—”

  “I don’t mind—” Connie began vaguely, but John overrode her.

  “Review your regulations, Tug. I consider Connie’s Wakesickness a medical indication of a physical condition that renders her unfit for duty. She can either take the recommended steps to correct it, or face a daily monetary penalty until she corrects the condition on her own.”

  Connie managed to make her voice audible. “I’ll follow the prescribed physical conditioning. I’m not used to these extended trips; I’ll take John’s advice about how to stay in shape for them.”

  “Satisfactory.” John waited for Tug to insert some comment. When he was quiet, he decided to see if he could push things one step further. “I’ll also be recommending reading material and some sleep-prep lessons for you. I think they’d be most helpful to you in performing your duties on this mission. Most of them have to do—”

  “You can’t force Connie to read anything that she—”

  “I believe I used the word ‘recommend,’” John said in a quiet voice that effectively cut through Tug’s outburst. “Just as I’m sure you’ve already been ‘recommending’ reading for her. The difference is the materials I’ll provide for her will actually be useful to her on this mission.” John paused. “And your interference between me and my crew will also be noted in the ship’s log, Tug.”

  “With a description of your unreasonable orders, I would hope.”

  “With a full detailing of all proceedings. Connie?” She jumped when he said her name. So they were back to that again. John sighed audibly. “You’re dismissed for now. You can take an hour of personal time. By then I should have your duties entered and you can consult your screen for them. See me just after your last rest break for the shift, and I’ll give you a list of ‘recommended’ study materials for this mission. Is everything clear, Crew?”

  She managed not to flinch. “Perfectly clear, sir.”

  John hesitated, then played a hunch. “Anything further you’d like to say to me?”

  She took a breath, paused, then shook her head mutely. Long enough pause for him to conclude there were things she wanted to discuss with him, but not in front of Tug. Unfortunately, there was practically no place on shipboard that wasn’t in front of Tug. “No, sir,” she managed when he kept eye co
ntact with her, waiting for a verbal reply.

  He kept the eye contact a moment longer, considering the ways he could circumvent Tug’s constant surveillance. Then he decided he’d done as much as he should for now. Maybe it was actually better this way; give her some basic information and leave it at that for now. “Dismissed, then,” he told her curtly, and turned aside his gaze. She practically scuttled from the room. There’d be other Wakeups, he reminded himself. Plenty of time in which to decide how much of their real mission he could trust to her; or, more to the point, plenty of time for him to figure out just how strong and deep Tug’s hold on her was, and if she felt protected or threatened by the Arthroplana.

  Connie could not have been too far up the corridor, for Tug’s voice was lowered, and had the flat tone it acquired when he spoke from only a single source. “Are you getting weary of being Evangeline’s captain?”

  John rubbed at the beginning of stubble on his scalp. “Maybe,” he said, shrugging. He wondered idly if a threat could be invoked so many times that it lost its snarl. To where it would almost be a relief if the threat were carried out.

  Tug seemed to consider his answer. John was suddenly aware of the sweat drying between his shoulder blades. He bent down and worked out a cramp in his calf.

  “Maybe you’re tired of working on any ship, anywhere. Maybe it’s time someone advised the Conservancy to reexamine your records.”

  John silently continued to work at the muscle in his leg. How much is he scaring me, he wondered, and couldn’t really find an answer.

  “What would Connie think of you if she knew?” Tug asked him coldly.

  John straightened up and rolled his shoulders. He tried not to show how hollow he felt inside. It sounded to him as if Tug were getting desperate to find a threat that would get him to react. “Maybe I should tell her myself and find out,” he challenged Tug.

  “Ha!” Tug replied.

  But he had waited a moment too long to respond, and his derision sounded uncertain. John didn’t reply, simply stretched once more and then runged off toward his quarters. He was halfway there before he realized he was grinning to himself.