Time passed slowly and far too quickly. By 11:30, Liana sat huddled against Erik's side and he'd wrapped an arm around her to provide whatever comfort his touch could bring. Everyone had been silent for so long that when Paat murmured, “He's calling,” Erik nearly jumped.
Paat adjusted a control and Gregor's voice filled the room. “. . . so everyone else figured it might be a new plague and scrambled away. I need you here. Bring the kids but not Disy or the urz in case someone's brave enough to return, which I doubt. You three, we can explain. There's a maglev runner ‘bout a klick from the refuge; Liana knows where it is if you don't. I'll grab a slapshot car and meet you there. I guarantee no Royals will object."
"I gather,” Paat said, “our plan succeeded?"
"Yeah. You'll see."
Erik felt both a tremendous sense of relief and a sudden chill. He suspected he wasn't going to enjoy visiting the castle.
The trek to the maglev track didn't take long, but Gregor was already waiting for them in the Queen's personal carriage, looking grim. He popped the doors open and moved to the aft operator's station while his passengers climbed aboard. Erik sat by Liana, holding her hand while gazing out the window. He tried to distract himself with the oddity of having two train rides so closely spaced after a lifetime of none, yet having them feel so different; but his thoughts kept drifting toward Chokorgon.
"Sorry I didn't call you sooner,” Gregor said after a long, tense silence. “Wanted to minimize the coming chaos so I used the Queen's personal network, pretending to be her, to write to all the Kin barons, hacking the time-stamp to a few hours earlier. Don't know if they'll go along, but I told ‘em the Royals were getting sick and commanded that Bateson Kin should assume precedence should the Coris be, um, incapacitated. Lady Dorathea and Sir Ian are the best of the nobles, I'd say. Right, Erik?"
"They're the only ones I've met, but they do treat everyone with respect. Gregor, can you—"
"Save your questions."
One side of the castle came into view. The slapshot decelerated and settled to its rail a bit too abruptly. “Sorry ‘bout that,” Gregor muttered as everyone debarked, “haven't driven this thing for years. Follow me.” As Gregor passed him, Erik got a good look at the big man's eyes and wished he hadn't.
They made a little parade, strolling up the wide staircase and through the Grand Entrance in single file like soldiers marching into enemy territory. Erik had never been inside Chokorgon. Everything seemed oversized and over-decorated. They stood in an immense central hallway tiled with polished stone, and with a ceiling high enough to permit three stacked rows of balcony. Tall glass tanks filled with nutrients and tourmaline-pink sachet-bacteria exuded changing flowery scents, but didn't entirely mask a subtle, rotten odor.
Gregor reached into his jacket, pulled out four cloth strips, dipped them into a tank, lightly squeezed them, and re-pocketed them. Dampness spread across his uniform, which he ignored. He pointed to a sweeping staircase and led them up to the highest balcony, and then up another set of stairs. “Elevators won't work,” he explained, “without sentinels typing in personal codes for each use. Security measure.” As they ascended, the putrid smell intensified.
They went through a massive double doorway, down a hall carpeted in something obscenely plush, and Gregor stopped before a polished brass door. “Brace yourselves,” he warned before pushing it open.
Erik was glad he hadn't eaten recently. Gregor handed him one of the perfume-soaked strips, and he covered his nose with it gratefully. Death plus jasmine did not meld into incense he'd recommend, but it made the air bearable. He stared at the thing lying on the elaborate bed. The remains, all rotting flesh and deformed bones, didn't appear remotely human. Erik felt equally suffocated by the stench and his sense of guilt.
"That couldn't have been the Queen,” Liana said.
Gregor pointed. “Left hand. Royal sapphire. It's her."
Hand? The ring's blue glitter failed to beautify the lumps of gangrenous tissue and twisted calcium.
Erik gave Paat a long, speculative look. “Let me guess. The Royal longevity treatment included counters for all sorts of potential diseases: cancer, arthritis, whatever. The Newton cocktail didn't just neutralize all that protection, it actively reversed it. Shiva, what a horrible way to die."
"I still hear them screaming,” Gregor whispered.
"Tell me, Paat,” Erik said. “Did you expect this?"
"Nothing so harsh, but I believed the Royals wouldn't survive. Friends, listen to me. Empathy becomes you all, but without our joint intervention, no human on this Level would be alive tomorrow. When all choices are dreadful we can only select the best. I suggest we reconvene outside this room. Despite my breathing filter, the fumes are tragic.” Everyone followed the Gelpie out.
In the hallway with the door closed behind them, the air smelled almost sweet. Gregor let out a sigh as huge as himself.
"Hate to bring this up if you all feel sick like me, but I figure the Batesons should settle in here straightaway to invite a peaceful transition. Anyone disagree? Chokorgon's been the seat of power forever, so just occupying the place would boost any Kin's prestige."
"True,” Liana said. “But how can we help?"
"Would you move in,” Gregor's voice shook, “if you saw the Queen and thought that whatever killed her might be, um, catching?"
"No."
"Only the top Royals got immortality treatments; Vanessa used the other Coris as servants. Still, that leaves us forty-four corpses on hand and the Batesons shouldn't see any of them."
Erik tried to sound calm. “You're saying we should bury all those Royals before—"
"Ghaat, no! Just transporting bodies would take us days. No elevator service, remember? But I've already . . . faked contingency orders from the Queen and a final word from gSoba Rinpoche—who's one of the corpses—claiming a Royal-specific infection was causing the deaths. We'll transmit these messages to the janissaries and they'll hurry here and handle the cleanup. All I need is one volunteer to help me. Takes two people to run castle communications, another security measure."
"Me,” Liana said. “I need to be doing something."
"Then come."
Erik and Paat followed the cousins down the hallway. When they reached the first staircase, the Gelpie gently grasped Erik's arm and stopped.
"Perhaps you have issues with me?” she said.
By unspoken agreement, they seated themselves on the landing. “Right.” Erik threw Paat a hard look. “Look, I'm a scientist. Would've had my Master's license by now if the lottery hadn't fallen on me."
"And?"
"When coincidences stack up to the moon, I get suspicious."
"What coincidences?"
Erik snorted. “Where to start? How about you arriving, just as the level is near crisis, with mutagens tailored to revise the ones Liana and I are being given. Maybe with Gregor's help, you switch the Rinpoche's final syringes with your own. Interesting results. Liana and I become exactly what's needed to save the day. Example? Without my new body, the sky's gravity would've pinned me down.
"Take more than a year, I bet, for even super-scientists to develop such specific mutagens for people whose DNA's already shifting."
"Quite possibly."
"But the lottery picked us a year ago. So you rigged it somehow. Should I go on?"
"Please do."
"Delighted. Let's glance at the Queen-poisoning plan I supposedly helped create. Without the urz, no way I could've reached the sky. You also happened to bring a Theill prepared to reprogram our moon's course. Shall I mention rusty containers winding up in your hideaway and you making sure we knew what was in them? Then, there's your laser, ideal for that particular job. Got plenty more, but have I made my point?"
"Indeed. How do you interpret all this?"
Erik studied Paat's face but learned nothing. “I think you've been partially honest, although I wonder if the level was really in that much danger."
"It wa
s. I speak in all honor."
"Okay. The way you've manipulated humans to do what you, or Disy, could've done yourselves, suggests you have been operating under heavy constraints, but still. . . ."
"Kindly share."
"You've accomplished so much, I'm thinking it's your bosses who've bent their own rules and you've been operating with their blessings."
"Erik, your suspicions may be valid, but without your courage and inventiveness, everything you care for would've been destroyed. Years ago, you and Liana were selected for your roles because you possessed unusual degrees of intelligence, responsibility, and concern for others. You've both suffered greatly, and I feel deep sorrow for causing that. Yet ask yourself: didn't saving this small but precious world justify our intervention?"
Erik didn't have to reflect. “Absolutely. But why be so damn deceptive? Why not just come to us, lay out the problem, and let us walk into this with open eyes? I would've gone along."
Paat momentarily turned away from Erik. “I do not doubt you, but providing you complete information would've amounted to saying ‘do this or die.’ Such blackmail would constitute rupturing our rules, not contorting them."
Erik tried to digest this alien viewpoint. After a time, Paat continued. “During this local year, I have observed you through spying devices. In that time, and particularly over the last few days, you have evolved mentally and emotionally into a being I greatly admire. Therefore I ask: How can I best help you now?"
"Human science,” Erik said, staring down at his golden hands, “isn't advanced enough to undo the effects of transformation drugs. Obviously, you have access to better medical technology. The Queen's left a lot of monsters in her wake including me and technically, I suppose, Liana. Could you reverse all this damage?"
Paat put a warm double-hand over Erik's forearm. “I will make the request, but those who've been mentally injured I fear will remain so. Are you unhappy with your own changes?"
Erik shrugged. “Gotten used to ‘em and I'd miss the tails, but it'll be hard living here as such a freak."
Paat gently squeezed Erik's arm, then released it. “You and Liana appear to be bonding."
"Sure, but we'll need to live with people, not just by ourselves. Don't know how it is on other levels, but among the Kin, if you're too different, you're an outcast."
"In that case, I have pleasant news for you for once. Gelpie scientists have already prepared reversal drugs for you and your potential mate. But I have an alternative to offer that you two may find worth exploring.” Paat's huge eyes seemed to develop an extra glow.
"Alternative?"
"The Captains wish to offer you employment suitable for your new abilities. Would you care to meet them?"
Copyright © 2011 Rajnar Vajra
[Back to Table of Contents]
Science Fact: TO THE OUTER SOLAR SYSTEM AND BEYOND: PSYCHOLOGICAL ISSUES IN DEEP SPACE by Nick Kanas, M.D.
In my article “The Psychology of Space Travel” in the October 2009 issue of Analog Science Fiction and Fact, I reviewed what is known about psychological, psychiatric, and interpersonal issues affecting astronauts working in the Earth's immediate neighborhood (i.e., in orbit and on the Moon), and I discussed additional psychological issues related to an expedition to Mars. In sum, results from recent research include findings that crewmembers isolated in a space station may displace on-board tension to the people working in mission control, view the support role of their leader as an important factor fostering crew cohesion, and value observations of the Earth as a significant positive aspect of being in space. People from different cultural backgrounds have different experiences, especially in terms of perceived work pressure. There is evidence that supportive activities from flight surgeons and psychologists on Earth play an important role in preventing and countering psychosocial problems that may occur in space, particularly for missions lasting two months or longer. However, this support may be less effective with exploratory missions, such as an expedition to Mars, where the long distances and mission durations, the delayed communication times, and the need for the crew to be more autonomous and dependent on on-board resources lessen the effectiveness of countermeasures initiated from Earth.[1]
Imagine, then, the psychological impact of missions to the outer solar system and beyond into interstellar space. Now, the distances are measured in terms of hundreds of millions of miles to light-years, the missions last decades to centuries, communication with the Earth takes hours to years, and crewmembers are truly autonomous and must rely on their own resources to survive. Furthermore, the Earth is no longer a beautiful reminder of home, but an insignificant dot in space that gradually disappears into the void. In addition, adapting to new technologies may add to the psychological burden of the crewmembers.
* * * *
Missions to the Outer Planets
What are the specifics of a mission to the outer solar system? First, let's look at distances. The mean distances between the Earth and the outer planets are: Jupiter, 778 million kilometers; Saturn, 1,427 million kilometers; Uranus, 2,871 million kilometers; Neptune, 4,498 million kilometers; and the plutoid Pluto, 5,906 million kilometers.[2] For an astronaut traveling on a space ship that uses a conventional chemical propulsion system, it would take years to reach the outer planets and their moons. As an indication of these times, we can examine the Voyager 2 “Grand Tour” mission through the solar system. This unmanned space probe was launched on August 20, 1977 and took advantage of a favorable planetary alignment that allowed for a gravity assist to the outer solar system. It took Voyager 2 just under two years to reach Jupiter, four years to reach Saturn, nearly eight and a half years to reach Uranus, and 12 years to reach Neptune, durations that are representative of those expected today for manned missions using current rocket technology.
After astronauts arrive at one of these outer solar system bodies, the Earth would appear as a small bluish-green dot in space, and there would be little chance of returning home to deal with a medical or psychiatric emergency, like a heart attack or a severely depressed or psychotic crewmember. Furthermore, communicating with family members or mission control personnel on Earth would be a delayed proposition. If you were on a moon of Jupiter and asked a question of someone on Earth, it would take 87 minutes to receive a reply.[3] The average two-way communication times between Earth and the outer planets increase dramatically as you travel toward the edge of the solar system: Saturn, 159 minutes; Uranus, 319 minutes; Neptune, 500 minutes; and Pluto, 657 minutes.
To put such numbers into psychological perspective, imagine a mission to Neptune's largest moon Triton, of interest because of its retrograde orbit, its tenuous nitrogen and methane atmosphere created by this moon's currently active volcanoes, and its possibly mineral-rich rocky core. The two-way communication time between Triton and Earth of eight and one-third hours would make real-time discussions with mission control personnel or family members and friends impossible, thus accentuating the isolation and loneliness felt by the crewmembers. The insignificant dot in space that is the Earth would further add to this sense of isolation (the so-called “Earth-out-of-view phenomenon").[1] In addition, what would one do to occupy time during the 12 years it would take to get to Triton (and the 12 years it would take to return, not to mention the time spent on this moon), and how would the crewmembers get along with each other during this time? How much interpersonal stimulation and support could be achieved during such a long mission by a crew that would likely consist of a fixed and small number of people? A 35-year old astronaut launching on this mission would be around 60 when he or she returned, with children having grown up and family members and friends aging and perhaps dying during the interval. These factors would create a selection problem for the crew—who would want to go on such a mission? Time and aging effects would also increase the chances of crewmembers developing a medical or psychiatric illness.
* * * *
Relativistic Speeds and Suspended Animation
There
are technological solutions to deal with some of these psychosocial problems, particularly those related to the long travel distances. One solution is to increase the speed of travel to a significant fraction of the speed of light. Light travels at 299,792 km/sec, so a rocket averaging 5% of the speed of light would reach Neptune in 300,075 seconds, or nearly three and a half days. In order to travel to the outer solar system and beyond, new propulsion systems will be necessary, such as nuclear pulse rockets, ramjets, and beamed power starships, which are reviewed by Forward.[4] But assuming that such means of propulsion could be utilized, it is difficult to predict their effects on human physiology and psychology. For example, Semyonov[5] has pointed out that the oncoming flow of interstellar gas and cosmic rays impacting on a space ship traveling at relativistic speeds could present a unique radiation hazard that would require special windward shielding to protect the crew, and no one knows the effect of such radiation on the brain and physiology of the crewmembers.
A second technological aid for travel to the outer solar system and beyond is to put the crew in suspended animation during much of the mission. In this scenario, after the critical activities involving the launch and initial course verification are completed, the crewmembers would enter capsules that would put them to sleep and then slow down their physiological functions until such time as they neared their final destination, when they would be revived to perform landing and exploration activities. The space vehicle would be on autopilot during most of the mission, and computers would control life support and navigational activities. The technology to accomplish suspended animation has yet to be developed, but when it is, a number of psychological questions will be raised. How would the crewmembers feel about their lives being dependent upon computer-controlled machines for such a long period of time? What would it be like to suddenly awaken after several years so far away from home, knowing that your family members and friends have aged or even died, and everything that you have ever loved is impossibly far away? What would the return home be like, trying to reintegrate with people on Earth after such a long time?
Analog SFF, May 2011 Page 8