“What do you suggest?” Quesen looked to each of the crewmembers.
“Is this really necessary?” interjected Lennon. “I mean, I am worried that this will lead to an elevated level of paranoia. We already have procedures.”
Captain Matthews leaned forward. “I disagree, Lennon. We are talking worst-case scenario, here, right? So what’s wrong with war-gaming a worst case solution?”
Lennon shook her head and then rolled her eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh.
“How did they handle misbehaving on long sea voyages?” asked Parker.
“They flogged ’em,” said Dish. “Publically.”
“They also made them walk the plank,” said Lennon. She added, sarcastically, “Should I get Abrams to prep the airlock?”
“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” said Abrams. “Besides, we’re just talking what-ifs, right? I’d be for it.”
“Ok,” Queasy said, “this really is an interesting issue. We all know what we were trained. We also know that we are nearly three years from civilization. We may not be able to wait for courts and we don’t—as Dish said—have a jail. If, for some strange reason, traditional restrictions and punishments do not correct the problem, who here would vote for corporal punishment?”
Four hands rose. Lennon and Parker kept their hands down. “Please tell me you are not serious,” said Lennon crossly.
“Sorry ladies,” said Abrams, with a smile. If someone’s bad, they are getting the beat-down.”
Lennon was not smiling.
TRANSMISSION: START
Seeker 3
Incoming message from Mission Control. Receipt time 2201z, 1801 mission time
Subject: Request for EVA
----
Seeker 3: Request for EVA denied until Mars orbit is achieved. Do not attempt external repairs while in solar orbit.
Mission Control out.
----
TRANSMISSION: END
“What's the word?” Abrams asked, peering at Quesen. Col Quesen was curled in front of the display screen in C2, tapping keys on the pullout keyboard.
Quesen sighed. “I just got a message from Mission Control. The EVA was denied.” He turned to Lennon, who was waiting to use the computer to enter her weekly medical report and transmit it to Earth. She was not looking forward to typing it in two hundred and forty character chunks.
“Lennon, what do you think? From a health officer perspective,” Colonel Quesen asked her.
“Does it matter?” she replied. “They told us no.”
“They aren't here, Lennon. Do you think it's safe?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Just like that? You’re not going to even consider it?”
Lennon thought for a minute. She did not like the way this was going. “I don't believe it is worth the risk, just to get high speed comms back.”
“Why is it any riskier than doing it in planetary orbit? Either way we are traveling thousands of miles an hour. Technically, we are in orbit, just around the sun.”
EVAs in planetary orbit were risky, and they used precious resources, like oxygen. Still, she entertained the option for the commander’s sake. “We're not traveling faster than if we were in planetary orbit, sir.” This was true; larger orbits require more energy to achieve but actually have a slower velocity. Still, Col Quesen had a point. In the vacuum of space, the speed did not really matter as long as the astronauts were traveling at the same speed as the spacecraft during the EVA. They would be, because no atmosphere would slow them down this far out in space.
“The Earth’s magnetic field gives us considerable protection from radiation,” she explained. “We don’t have that out here. Have we tried to fix the high speed antenna a safer way?” she asked.
Abrams shrugged. “I haven't done anything yet.”
“Do we have any reports about space weather?” she asked. Without the protective atmosphere and the magnetic field of the earth, even fleeting exposure to a radiation burst from a solar flare could be deadly for an astronaut.
“No,” answered Abrams, “but we could request it.” He hesitated. “However, the report would be slightly delayed—radio traffic is not instantaneous this far out. If a coronal mass ejection came from the Sun and it was coming toward us, we may not have adequate warning to abort.”
Lennon addressed Col Quesen. “How about we try everything else before we go and attempt something crazy, huh?”
Col Quesen nodded at Abrams. “You heard her. Get me a plan for what we can do inside the ship.”
TRANSMISSION: START
Mission Control Station
Incoming message from Seeker 3. Receipt time 2214z, 1814 mission time
Subject: Weekly physical and mental health report, week 4
*BREAK*
From: Dr. Rebecca Lennon, physical and mental health officer, Seeker 3
Attached is a compilation of multiple messages due to loss of high-speed antenna.
----
Crew status: healthy and functional.
Individual status:
Lt. Colonel Nicholas Quesen—Within acceptable norms.
Major Jonas Matthews—Muscle and bone loss is a concern. Increased exercise ordered. Follow-up every other day is necessary until c
*BREAK*
ondition is more favorable.
Captain Justin Petri—Within acceptable norms.
Dr. Maria Parker—Within acceptable norms.
Dr. Rebecca Lennon—Within acceptable norms.
Kyle Abrams—Within acceptable norms.
----
Crew observations:
There have been slight ada
*BREAK*
ptability issues noted, specifically with the food choices. Overall, the crew is adjusting well. Observation of the psychological health of the crew has not shown a deviation from predicted behavior.
----
Recommendations:
Food choice will co
*BREAK*
ntinue to be an issue. I will monitor overall physical and mental health of the crew and report as necessary. When available, I will recommend garnishments from the Atrium to boost morale.
No further health or psychological intervention
*BREAK*
is necessary.
End of report from seeker 3.
----
TRANSMISSION: END
Day Twenty-Nine
Six major sections embodied the spacecraft: The laboratory, which was colloquially dubbed the “Atrium” and marked the exact center of the ship; going forward from the Atrium was the dining hall, which the crew called the “ChowBucket”; then came Command and Control (C2), which Abrams referred to as the “Bridge”. Going backwards from the Atrium was the Crew Quarters module; then the exercise module and the specific piece of equipment with the same name, the “Box”; and then the finally, there was the thrust, propulsion, attitude control, and crew support module, which the crew called the “Gearbox”. There were smaller subsections such as the lavatory, which adjoined Crew Quarters and contained the shower, and various storage areas, which filled the many nooks and crannies around the ship. The Gearbox was at the aft end of the ship and was where the life support, heating and cooling, and the water recycling system also resided. C2 was on the fore end of the spacecraft, with the capsule, which would land on Mars, affixed to the outside. The crew would not normally need to access the capsule until the crew was ready to prepare for landing.
Abrams hovered over a panel in the C2 section of the craft. His hand was on his chin, and his pose very much made him appear to be pouting. He had unfolded a large sheet of paper and left it hanging in the air in front of him. Every few seconds, he would grab it and move it back to position after the air vents caused it to drift. “This is access to the main battery bank,” he declared, motioning towards a panel next to him. He thought a little bit more and then continued. “I may be able to re-route power to the high-speed antenna, but I still need to pull the condenser block o
ut to get to the battery bank.”
“How much does it weigh?” Parker asked. This might sound like a stupid question in a “weightless” environment, but what she was asking was really the simplest way to relate to the mass of the object. Even though there is little weight, which is a measure of gravitational pull, there is still mass. This makes a difference in terms of inertia, specifically, the amount of energy needed to start or stop motion.
Abrams scratched his head. “Uh, I don’t know, actually. It weighs a lot. Maybe three hundred pounds?”
“Well lets pull it on out, now,” said Dish. His Southern accent always got thicker when he was antsy.
“Hold on,” said Abrams. “We have to get an alternate power source before I mess with the battery bank. One of you has to go ride the bike.”
The bike was simply an exercise bicycle with rubber stretch chords attached, which held the rider down while he or she exercised. There were two lever-activated clutches to connect or disconnect the generator or the Box. There should be no reason for the crew to disconnect the generator, except for when the power draw was too high and it made the bike difficult to pedal. Nothing should be drawing that much power from the bike, however. Although the primary use of the generator was for personal power, in special circumstances the crew could route the circuit to produce auxiliary power for the ship itself. That was currently not the case, but it was what Abrams was suggesting.
“You mean we gotta run a hamster wheel while you fix this thing?” Dish said, incredulous. “Just how long’s that all gonna take?”
“Heck, I don’t know. An hour maybe?”
“Shoot, make Parker do it. She don’t do nothin’ else, anyways, not ‘till we get to Mars.” He shot a dirty look at Dr. Parker.
She returned an angry glare. “That’s not true; I’ve got crystals gr—”
Queasy cut her retort short. “Dish, you’re going. You’ve got better endurance and can keep a higher current going.”
“But I—” Dish stammered.
“Forget it,” Queasy interrupted. “We’ll trade off in twenty minutes. Matthews, you’re next.”
“Yes, sir,” Matthews replied.
Dish hit the wall and swore. “Who made you God, Queasy?” he shouted.
Col Quesen was across the room in seconds, clinching both of Dish’s arms with his large hands. The force of his movement pinned Dish against the wall. He put his face into Dish’s and shouted, “You listen, and you listen good, Captain Petri. You will accept what I say and you will obey, or I will come down on you like a hammer. This ship will not run in anarchy. Do you understand me, Captain?”
The room was silent. Quesen and Dish glared at each other. The electrical schematic floated away from Abrams, unimpeded. Dr. Maria Parker covered her mouth with her hand. Major Matthews floated at the side of the room, unmoving, with a stoic look on his face. Lennon did not know what to do, so she simply stared. Finally, Matthews pushed against the wall and began to float towards Col Quesen and Captain Petri.
Dish blinked several times and looked away. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Yes sir,” he whispered. “I, uh, apologize, sir.”
Colonel Quesen released his grip. “We’ll relieve you in twenty minutes,” he said quietly. “I’ll go last.”
Dish pushed away, looking back one last time before disappearing down the corridor.
Queasy straightened his shirt. “I’m sorry I had to do that,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Ok, how do we get this out?”
“We need to pull this thing out first, and then I can get to the bank and reroute power,” replied Abrams, bringing the crew back to focus. He reached out and pulled on the panel. It popped open, revealing a metal box that completely filled the hole it occupied. It had a large hinged handle on the side facing them. There was no other place to grip besides the handle. “We just need to pull it,” he said, and took hold of the handle. He put his feet on the wall and pulled, just like doing a squat lift from standing.
Nothing happened. He grunted, but the box did not move.
“Is there too much mass to get it moving?” Queasy asked. “Do you need help?”
“No, it should move,” Abrams said, and let go of the handle.
They both stared at it. An indicator lamp on the wall flashed on. Aux Power, read the label. Dish had made it to the Box and started pedaling. “Maybe you just have to pull a little harder,” said Quesen. “Let me try.” He pulled on it, with no success.
“You sure there’s nothing else to do before we pull it out?” asked Matthews.
Abrams grabbed the sheet and pulled it back to him, then closed and reopened the panel door and looked inside. Grasp handle and pull to remove condenser pack, said a small sign under the handle. “No, that’s it,” he said.
“Well let’s just yank it out,” Matthews said, and took hold of the handle. Col. Quesen grabbed the handle also and they both yanked on it at the same time.
There was a loud pop and a cracking sound followed by a loud screech of bending and scraping metal. The condenser unit shot out of the wall. Abrams rushed in to catch it, but there were no handles on the side. His fingers slid down the smooth metal on the side of the box, making a quiet squeaking sound. The unit knocked Matthews out of the way and floated across the room. It smashed into the opposite wall, pinning Col Quesen by the head and neck.
Matthews rushed to the condenser box and began to pull it away from the Colonel, when he let out an audible gasp. “Oh,” he said, and took his hands off the box.
Abrams pushed him out of the way and pulled on the box. Lennon saw something coming out of the box. “Hold on,” she said, but Abrams had already shoved the box to the other side of the room. It hit the wall with a loud clank. There was a hissing sound as the stabilizing rockets outside the ship activated.
Small, dark red balls of different sizes trailed the box and began to drift outwards. Lennon followed them to the box, and saw a jagged area where the aluminum frame bent and protruded out of the box. She followed the trail of orbs back to Quesen. He was gagging and holding his neck with both hands. Dark red orbs squeezed between his fingers and floated gently into the air.
“Oh, no,” she said. She fought her way over to him and pulled his hand away. There was a large gash in his neck, and he was losing blood quickly. She pushed her fingers onto the wound to try to stop the bleeding. It did not work.
“Parker!” she shouted. “Get the kit! Now!” She looked around wildly. “Matthews! Help me put pressure on it!” Matthews joined Lennon, pressing his hands on Col Quesen’s neck, trying to stop the bleeding.
Abrams pushed a large button on the wall and shouted into the metal grill above it. “Dish! Get back here, now, we uh, we got a problem. Hurry!” The Aux Power light went off. Abrams moved to Col Quesen and tried to help stop the bleeding.
Quesen started coughing and pushed frantically at Matthews with his arms. Lennon noticed Matthews’ grip on Col. Quesen’s neck. “Easy, Matthews, you’re choking him.”
Matthews swore. “He’s still bleeding. It’s not working, Lennon, What do you want me do?”
“Well, don’t kill him!” She moved his hand. “Here. Push here.” She pressed his fingers into the wound. It did not make a difference. Nothing she did was working. There were too many hands in the way, and blood coated all of them.
Parker flew into the room with a first aid kit. She opened it on the way to Lennon, but this caused the contents to leave the kit and float around the room. Abrams looked at the items floating by his head and his eyes got wide. “The blood!” he shouted. “We have to keep it out of the electronics!”
Matthews jumped up and snatched the first aid kit. He dumped all of the remaining items out of it and began jumping around the room in frenzy, trying to collect all of the blood in the air. Lennon caught the gauze and the scissors as they floated past her, and pressed the gauze into Col. Quesen’s neck while she looked around the room for thread to stitch the wound.
Col. Quesen’s body sudde
nly stiffened and his eyes rolled back in his head. After three seconds, his body relaxed and he no longer moved.
Dish appeared. “What the—” He remained in the doorway with his eyes wide.
“He’s got no pulse,” Lennon whispered, feeling his wrist. She pushed her hand into the leg opening of his shorts.
“What are you doing?” Abrams asked.
“I’m checking for a femoral pulse. It’s one of the strongest pulse areas in the body. If he’s lost a lot of blood, this may be the only place that I can still feel it.” She waited a few seconds. Nothing. Parker slipped an oxygen mask over his face. The blood had finally stopped; she didn’t know if it was because she had packed the wound properly of if it was simply because his heart stopped. If he could get oxygen to his heart, there might still be a chance. “We need to perform CPR,” she said. There still needed to be fluid in his system, however. “Parker, get me the emergency IV.”
She had never considered the actual possibility of performing CPR in space. The biggest problem is that when an astronaut performs compressions in microgravity, they simply push themselves away from the victim. They had gone over CPR methods, briefly, but she had never thought any of the methods would work in practice. One method was similar to the Heimlich, but in training, she found it hard to get enough pressure. Another method involved “standing” on the ceiling and pushing on the victim’s chest while the victim laid on the floor. Unfortunately, one of the things that the engineers had actually given the crew was more room. The ceiling was too high. She could drag him over to the next corridor, but how much time would that choice waste? She picked up Col Quesen and placed him in Matthew’s arms, so that his back was to Matthews and he was facing her. “Abrams!” she shouted, “Put your arms around me and take Matthews’ wrists.” Abrams did so, and now Lennon was sandwiched with Col Quesen between Matthews and Abrams. She was small enough that she could get her arms between herself and Quesen, and could perform compressions to try to get his heart working again. He had lost so much blood. She did not think CPR would work, but she had to try. An IV would only help replace lost fluid if his heart was working.
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