by Gary Moreau
Slater paused, glanced down for a moment, and then back up, as if to signal that what he was about to say was difficult, yet, well considered. “Friends,” he began, his voice now mellow, “we’ve each been trained in a primary and vital specialty. Mine, of course, was in administration and implementation. I was assigned the title of Commander so that there would be no question of who was in charge during planet-fall, but the planners could never have foreseen the terrible losses we’ve suffered.”
He paused, to let them each dwell on their own personal losses, and there was not a colonist present who had not experienced loss first hand. He continued. “If we’re to survive, we must function efficiently with complete coordination of our activities. For this to occur, there must be someone with the authority to make decisions. I am that person. It’s what I was trained to do and I pledge to you that I’ll do my very best for all.” His voice was becoming louder, sweaty with fervor. “I’m the ultimate authority here and I will not shirk my duty. I will make the decisions. I will have the first and the last say. With the crisis upon us, there is no leeway for the finery of civilization. We’re fighting for our very lives. Under my direction, we will survive and prosper, but I will not tolerate disobedience, simply because we cannot afford it.”
He challenged them with an intemperate stare, beginning with Protonov, daring him to object, and then continued around the bridge, from face to face. There were furtive glances, but no one voiced an objection.
The diminutive Li Quon was clenching and opening her small hands. Jon reached out and grasped her forearm, as if that would be enough to restrain her. She twisted her arm out of his grip and ignored his whispered warning, as if brushing off a harmless pest.
“Slater!” She said it forcefully, but her voice sounded as small as that of a young boy, especially when compared to Slater’s carnival-barker tones. “How dare you characterize democracy as a finery of civilization? You talk about it as if it’s a bauble, as if it’s only a gaudy decoration.”
“Quiet!” Slater yelled and then returned his attention to the gathered guild chiefs. He smiled his broadest smile. “Don’t worry, friends. I too look forward to the time when we will be strong. I too look forward to the time when I’ll be able to step down and hand over the heavy burden of command to others, to a democratic leadership but, until that time arrives, rest assured, I will remain vigilant for the good of us all.”
“For the good of us all?” Li shouted. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You have no right to claim total power and then dress it up––”
“I told you to be quiet!”
“I will not be quiet. History has much to say about unrestrained power. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Even you must have heard"
“Shut up, woman! You were not chosen to be a guild chief and you were not invited to be present at this meeting. I did not ask for your opinion. If I had wanted Humanity’s opinion, I would have asked Chief Abdulahak Achik. He is mature enough to understand expediency. Your voice does not deserve to be heard.”
Slater turned to a man dressed in the black uniform of administration and whose scalp was covered with a bur of short, blond hair. He spoke quietly to the big man. The man stood at rigid attention while he listened. He was a stranger to Li.
Li looked to the gathered guild chiefs. She found the maroon of humanities but, of all those present, Chief Achik was not looking in her direction. She gathered her courage and returned her attention to Slater.
“Slater, I will not let”
“You will address me as Commander Slater!” He was like a coiled snake preparing to strike. His words erupted as a guttural growl from deep in his throat. “I am your leader.”
“You’re not my leader!”
Jon edged away from her.
The muscles bulged on the sides of Slater’s jaw. He snapped his hand out and pointed a finger at Li.
The burly man who Slater had spoken to responded at once. He marched directly through the gathering, shouldering guild chiefs aside if they didn’t move fast enough to suit him.
Despite her courage, Li felt the urge to run, but she couldn’t get her feet to move. She stood alone, with a chill nibbling at her fingers and toes. The man walked toward her; she saw neither violence nor reason in his ice-blue eyes.
The guild chiefs watched while the man confronted Li. He reached with remarkable quickness and snatched the com-collar from around Li’s delicate neck.
A cry of pain and surprise escaped her mouth. She grabbed her throat with both hands; her breathing was stridorous and tears spilled down her cheeks. The man did not offer assistance; no one did. She fought for each breath and dropped to her knees. Her assailant turned his back on her and walked back through the gathering to retake his position at Slater’s side.
Slater spoke and all in attendance turned back to him. His voice was now soothing. “I’m sorry you had to witness this unfortunate scene. I’m grieved that colonist Quon does not have the foresight to understand the desperate position we find ourselves in and the difficult decisions that must be made, but do not doubt me. I will do my duty, regardless of unpleasantries.”
They could all hear Li’s noisy respirations.
Slater continued. “I can only say, thank you. Thank you for your selflessness and vision. Do not leave here thinking I’m an unreasonable man. I know you all have questions and concerns, and I will meet with each of you individually, when time permits. I do value your opinions.” He nodded toward a thin woman dressed in communication pink. “Jane Veck has volunteered to assist me in our reorganization and I have appointed her Guild Chief of Communications.”
“What? Hey! That’s my––”
Slater swung his gaze to focus on Lisa Bouviet. She closed her mouth.
Slater continued. “If I’m not available, Jane will be happy to take your messages. For us to function efficiently, our communication needs to be coordinated. We cannot afford another demoralizing, general broadcast like that of Arnald Schmid during the tragic murder of Mitch Klaus by Casey Conklin. If Conklin’s collar had been adjusted to our present frequencies, it may very well have resulted in an even greater tragedy. I find it regrettable, but necessary, that a minor adjustment be made to the com-collars so that all-call will be, temporarily, eliminated. You will, of course, be able to continue to communicate among yourselves on a one to one basis using your personal codes.”
The chiefs began to grumble; offended by this new restriction, but Slater raised his voice to regain their attention. “I also yearn for a resolution of our crisis. We must be strong. We must be resolute in our commitment to function as a team and I will be captain of that team. In six days we will leave orbit for planet-fall. It’s not much time to prepare but, before you return to your duties, my associate here––” He swung his arm around to indicate the man who had attacked Li. “––Mister Olson, has a few words to say. I thank you in advance for your cooperation.”
Slater then walked around the edge of the group and they all watched him as he disappeared through the doorway at the side of the bridge.
They were still turned toward the closed door, when the sober man dressed in black called their attention back to the front of the bridge. “Guild chiefs, before you return to your duties, you will file past either me, or Mister Sabine.” He nodded toward the other man dressed in black.
Jack Sabine was a thin, intense appearing man. He smiled at the assemblage with poorly disguised pleasure.
Sten Olson continued, his diction as crisp as his back was straight. “We will adjust your com-collars. It will be necessary to replace the all-call crystal with a null crystal to maintain the circuit.”
There was angry mumbling from the guild chiefs.
Olson raised his voice so it had an edge. “This is not optional. You will do as I say.” He pointed to Brita Baldus, “You first.”
She hesitated only a second and then stepped forward. Olson popped out the ruby-red, all-call crystal and replaced
it with a jade-green one. Brita turned, without facing the others, and quickly exited via the down-tube.
“Next,” he ordered, and the crowd began to move forward, one at a time.
As Olson and Sabine adjusted the collars, Olson told them to expect to see the black uniform on other colonists who would be visiting their areas to adjust the rest of the collars. He told them he didn’t want any trouble, but that disobedience of Commander Slater’s orders would not be tolerated. No one objected. There was very little talking as the chiefs made their way past one of the two men and then rushed over to the down-tube, relieved to escape the unresolved tension on the bridge.
Soon, they had all departed, leaving only Li Quon, still on her knees, and Jon Brent, who squatted next to her with his hand on her back. Her breathing was finally beginning to ease.
Jon looked up when he heard the “swish” that indicated a door had opened. His hand fell away from Li’s back.
Slater walked casually toward them. He stopped when he was standing over them. “I can’t say I’m impressed by your choice of colleagues, Jon.”
Jon had to crane his neck uncomfortably upward to see Slater’s face. “Li is very competent. She was the best of us all and is the only other paramedic to survive.”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you leave us and attend to your duties in the medical suite. Mister Olson will stop by and adjust your collar. In the meantime, I’ll have a nice, quiet chat with Li. We need to discuss her new responsibilities. Don’t you agree?”
Jon didn’t move. He looked to Li and she met his look with the imitation of a smile.
“Don’t you agree?” Slater asked in a louder voice.
“Go ahead, Jon. I’ll be all right.” Li’s voice was raspy. She gave him a gentle push.
He slowly stood.
“Go on, Jon,” Slater said without a hint of anger in his voice. “She just told you, she doesn’t need you. She’ll be down to join you in a few minutes.”
Jon walked over to the down-tube. He took another look at Li; she forced a smile and waved him on. He stepped forward and disappeared into the mouth of the tube. When he disappeared, so did Li’s smile.
Slater rested his hand on Li’s fine, jet-black hair and began stroking it. She jerked away from his touch and glared up at him.
“What am I going to do with you?” Slater mused. “I certainly can’t afford to have a minor player like you mucking up the works. I should’ve known that a humanity-tech would be the last to recognize expediency.” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “I know you find this difficult to believe, but I do have a duty to perform, just as you do. Why do you think I was included in the crew?”
“You were included in the crew to organize and coordinate the landing, not set yourself up as dictator.”
Slater reached down and grabbed her jaw, snapping her head back. “It doesn’t have to be like this. I find you quite attractive, but don’t let that fool you.” He released his grip and began to caress her hair again. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done. I won’t warn you again. Don’t step out of line. We can’t afford to lose another colonist, but I won’t allow anyone to jeopardize our success. Don’t force me to take action. That would be most regrettable.”
“Are you actually threatening to kill me?”
“No, of course not.” He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Mister Sabine will supply you with a new collar. Come visit me when you get a chance. I’m sure we can work out an equitable arrangement. I can be quite generous to those who are willing to give in return.”
He patted her on the head and smiled before he walked across the bridge to reenter his suite of rooms. Li watched him leave and then turned her gaze to Sabine.
Sabine sauntered over and held out the collar, dangling it from his bony fingers. When she reached out for it, he let it drop to the deck. He grinned while he played with the ring on his left long finger, a black cross with wings, and then squatted so that he could come face to face with her. As he did so a swastika on a thick gold chain swung into view.
“I don’t suppose that yungdrung you’re wearing around your neck means you’re a Hindu,” she said as she glowered at him.
“What?”
“Didn’t think so.”
“You’re a strange one, but I like strange, if you get my drift. Just remember, honey, if you need help, you can always come visit old Jack. We’ll have some fun.”
His greasy laugh grated on her ears, but she remained perfectly still until he stood and swaggered off, down the passageway.
Li was mortified by her treatment. It was as if she had been transported back in time. She picked up the com-collar from the deck, quickly stood, and rushed for the down-tube, afraid that even worse things would happen to her if she remained on the bridge. Just before she dropped into the tube, she saw a giant man standing in the shadows, also dressed in black. He was such a hulking figure that he made Olson look normal in comparison. She shivered with dread and jumped into the tube.
By the time she exited on Deck Two, her fear had transformed into a smoldering anger and a hostile resentment of Slater and those uncivilized ruffians he called his assistants. Where had they come from? If they had been in any of the training groups, she definitely would’ve remembered them. These were not the kind of people who could walk around without being noticed. She looked ahead and saw Jon staring at her approach. The passage was busy with colonists, walking purposefully on their individual missions, but no one paid any attention to Li.
Jon waited until Li stood next to him before he spoke. He looked her up and down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just fine,” she answered, biting off each word.
Jon hung his head. “I’m sorry I left you alone up there. It’s just...well….”
“Forget it. You did what I told you to do.” She rubbed her hands on her jumpsuit, as if to wipe off the filth of her experience. “How is Casey?”
“The same,” he said dully.
“Jon, we need to salvage him. He’s the only physician to survive. He must know something about what happened to the ship and the dead colonists. He may be our best hope to work our way out of this Draconian society we’ve awakened to. Come on, let’s go to the lab.”
She started down the passage, not waiting to see if Jon was following, but he was. After a few strides he was walking at her side. The medical suite stretched along thirty meters of the curved passage. The last door was that of the instrumentation lab. The door sensed their approach and opened with a “whoosh” of air as it slid into the wall. They entered without breaking stride, confident it would open, and then came to an abrupt halt. Although the interconnected treatment rooms occupied most of the space allotted to the medical suite, the instrument lab was the largest single room, with an overhead that was a full ten meters off the deck. Cubbyholes lined the walls, filled with row after row of strange devices, each with its own custom-fitted slot.
“Jon, we need a diagnostic kit and a molecular synthesizer. Any idea what they look like and where they might be?”
He had an empty look on his face, arms dangling at his sides.
“Snap out of it! Don't just stand there. Take some initiative. Think!”
“Find it yourself,” he said bitterly. “You’ve had as much training as I have. Does that sound nice to you? Because it didn’t to me when I asked for help.”
They stood glaring at each other, not a blink between them. Then Li shrugged and began walking along the instrument packed walls, peering through the transparent door of each recess, hoping that the sight of the right instrument would stimulate its own recognition. After looking at dozens of devices, ranging from an irregularly shaped blob of silver metal with purple spikes, to a deceptively simple gray cylinder, she began to lose hope.
She noticed a preservation chest and walked over to raise the lid. It was filled with new, white uniforms. She looked down at her own beloved maroon. After all, she thought, I’m a historian, not a doctor. Wha
t could she really expect of herself? She looked over at Jon, who leaned listlessly against the bulkhead. The fatigue of new-awakening was visible in every aspect of his appearance, from his half-closed eyelids, to his slack jaw and bent knees. She walked over to him and reluctantly took hold of his hand to lead him into the passageway.
“Jon, I think it’s time we get some sleep. Maybe we’ll be able to think more clearly after we’ve rested.”
He nodded agreement and shambled off to find his personal storage locker. The corridor was already littered with bodies, sprawled on their pallets, deep in senseless slumber. She looked at them with envy, but resisted and pushed back the heaviness of exhaustion. She felt a strong sense of urgency and had a plan.
Chapter 5
Li paused a short distance from the exam room. Even though she had a plan, it was still nebulous. It was obvious to her that to reverse Casey’s psychosis she was going to need the assistance of a fully trained physician. The only physician available was Casey. Therefore, what she had to do was entice Casey to help himself. She felt confident that she could somehow get through to him. They hadn’t actually been friends on Earth, but Casey had been her proctor during her secondary, and they had at least developed a respect for one another.
She committed herself to the effort and stepped through the portal into Casey’s room. Despite the purifying system, the air was saturated with the sharp odors of urine and sweat. Casey remained strapped to the exam table. His struggles to escape had abraded his wrists and ankles to a raw redness. He was still and appeared to be asleep. She approached the table cautiously. When she was an arm’s length away, his eyes flicked open, an automaton come to life. Li sucked in a quick breath and stumbled back a couple of steps.
His voice was weak. “So, Child Princess, you’re the one they sent to kill me. I don’t hold it against you. I guess it’s fair. All I ask is that you tell me one thing. How is the Virgin of the Woods?”
“Who?” Her forehead creased with effort as she tried to recall a colonist with that nickname, but she came up empty.