by Gary Moreau
Most of the colonists had been pressed into service by the engineers to assist in building the base camp. Mounds of steel-foam were scattered across the grass, with a cluster of colonists near each, deciding exactly where each structure was to be located. It wouldn’t be long before the first structure would be inflated and then crystallized by a burst of high-powered energy.
The transformer was being attended to by two red-suited power-techs. As the morning wore on, the main building was expanded to its proper dimensions, rising like a giant marshmallow. Casey had seen this demonstrated on a number of occasions during training back on Earth, but this was for real and took on a new significance. Despite his cynicism he felt pride and wonder.
He let his gaze wander and saw Li talking with Jon, who was sitting with his feet resting on a metallic crate. Li was gesticulating while shouting something. Jon shook his head and looked down at the ground. It seemed to be his characteristic pose since the Awakening. He shook his head again, and then stood and walked off.
Casey remembered how Jon had been back on Earth, gentle to the point of absurdity. Specifically, he remembered when Jon had chased a roach around their room, trying to capture it in a plastic cup so that he could let it go free outside, rather than kill it. The last thing Earth needed was more insects. The memory brought a smile to Casey’s face.
Casey’s com-collar came to life. “This is Commander Slater. The Main Dome is now ready for energizing. I want all you spectators to move at least a hundred meters away. We can’t afford any foolish accidents.”
The scattered groups of colonists responded leisurely, but soon there was a wide space cleared around the big Main Dome.
Slater spoke again, “I’m now going to turn control over to Chief Power-Tech, Mika Ishida.”
“I’m surprised you're willing to turn anything over to anybody,” Casey murmured.
The next sound he heard was the soft, feminine voice of Mika. She directed the final preparation with confidence and efficiency and then gave the order to energize.
Everyone’s attention was on the dome as a line of incredibly bright, sparkling light worked its way across the surface. When it had completed its path a cheer arose from the on-lookers.
Casey’s attention left the now solid dome when he saw blue-black smoke out of the corner of his eyes. He turned. It was the transformer. One of the red-suited techs had already seen it and was running over to investigate; it was an important piece of equipment. When the tech got within twenty meters of the smoking machine, he went rigid and fell to the grass. Another tech wasn’t far behind and started to go to his comrade’s aid, but he too suddenly arched his back; his arms shot out from his sides and he collapsed motionless on the grassy plain. Others were beginning to converge on the scene.
Casey punched in Slater’s code. “Cut off the power from the ship!”
“Get off the beam whoever you are!” Came Slater’s reply, but even as he heard Slater’s remark, he saw the power beacon from the ship go dead.
The crowd approached the two fallen men, but the closer they got, the more hesitant they were to close the final distance.
Slater’s voice came over all the com-collars. “Li Quon and Jon Brent, respond. The rest of you keep your distance.”
Casey saw Li running toward the nearest body. She rolled him onto his back, but then seemed uncertain what to do.
Casey turned to Yamaguchi. “Quick. If we’re going to be of any help, we’ve very little time. Go to the lab and bring me the gray box with yellow stripes. You’ll find it in row ‘A’, slot four.”
Yamaguchi immediately sprinted toward the up-tube. If Casey hadn’t seen it for himself, he would never have imagined a man his size could move that fast.
Casey struggled to his feet and managed a step before his injuries brought him to his knees. He punched in Veck’s code.
“This is Conklin. I need help to get to those men. Now!”
“Stay off this beam,” was Veck’s shrill reply. “This band is for emergency use only until further notice.”
But, within a few seconds, two sturdy power-techs came running to Casey’s position on the ramp and lifted him. They managed to carry him, all be it painfully, to the two victims.
When Casey got closer he saw Li was applying an archaic resuscitation technique to one of the men. Although he was too injured to assist physically, within a shorter time than he would have thought possible, Yamaguchi was at his side with the kit. Casey flipped open the lid and quickly withdrew two needleless syringes. He touched Li’s shoulder and ordered her to stop. When she heard his voice she sat back on her heels, breathless and sweaty. He shoved the syringes at her.
“Take these and inject one into each man at the occipital tuberosity.”
She looked glassy eyed at him.
“Now!” Casey shouted.
She regained her focus, took the syringes, and did as she’d been instructed. She placed a syringe firmly against the back of each victim’s head and squeezed it off.
Next Casey turned to Yamaguchi. “I need to get these men to the medical suite at once.”
Yamaguchi pointed at a few colonists and pulled them forward as if they were attached to his finger by an invisible wire. Then he picked Casey up and began running with him toward the ramp, his footsteps smooth and solid. Abruptly, they were on the ground, Yamaguchi on his back and Casey sprawled across him. Casey looked over at Yamaguchi’s face and saw that his eyes were big with surprise, causing a set of parallel creases to run across his forehead. Seeing Yamaguchi display human emotions couldn’t have amazed Casey more than if the man had shouted obscenities, but the moment passed like the edge of a cloud and, before Casey could speak, he found himself once again in Yamaguchi’s arms, moving at break-neck speed up the ramp and into the ship.
When the victims arrived at the medical suite, Casey could only care for one at a time, while Li followed his instructions. She was remarkably skilled once she knew what to do. As he watched her, he recalled training her back at Copper Mountain. At the time, he hadn’t appreciated how competent she was. The man Li had tried to resuscitate responded to the life stimulation cabinet, but the other remained as he was, dead.
“Li.”
She turned and her black eyes fixed on him.
“Where was Jon? We could’ve used him.”
She looked away.
“I guess that pretty much answers the question. On the other hand, you did a really good job. Would you consider taking further training?”
She looked back to him. “I’m a historian.”
“If you change your mind, I––”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“As you wish. Help me transfer Tabor into the regeneration tank and then you can return to your usual duties with my deepest gratitude.”
By the time the final task had been completed and Li had been dismissed, Casey was utterly exhausted. He entered the passageway, leaned against the bulkhead for support, and informed Mika Ishida and the other power-techs that Erik Lindh was dead, but that Tabor Klampor had an excellent chance of recovery, although it would require a prolonged convalescence in the regeneration chamber. Mika and the others appeared stunned. They had lost so many in cryo-stasis that the loss of another was almost too much to bear.
“Have you tried everything?” Mika asked.
Casey nodded. “Absolutely everything.” He felt the loss as well; he knew everyone to a greater or lesser extent. After a period of mutual silence, he continued. “I hate to bring this up at a time like this, but do you have any idea what happened?”
Mika shook her head, and then made eye contact with each of the techs in the passage, but no one even offered a theory.
Casey sighed. “You can take Erik’s body and make ready a farewell as you deem proper, but prepare yourselves. He is quite badly burned. I’m afraid you won’t be able to talk with Tabor. He’s in the tank and will need to remain that way for about six weeks.”
The red-suited group file
d past Casey into the treatment room. Soon they exited, carrying a wrapped body that smelled of burnt flesh and hair. Casey watched them until they disappeared around the curve of the passage and then re-entered the treatment room. He made one last check of the life support equipment and then slumped to sit on the deck. His head was so heavy he could hardly hold it up, but his eyes opened when his com-collar came to life.
“Conklin, this is Commander Slater. I want you in my office. Now!” There was no further communication.
Casey didn’t move. It was an impossible request. His eyelids drifted shut, but then opened a crack when he felt himself being lifted by powerful arms, almost tenderly. He drifted into a light sleep like a babe, confident in the arms that held him. He was too tired to even consider what Slater had in mind.
He was shaken awake with a pinching grip on his shoulders. He looked blurry eyed into Slater’s hawk-like face.
“Wake up, you worthless piece of trash! You’re not going to desert your duty while I’m in command.”
Casey lifted his head to look more closely at the flushed face, shouting at him from only centimeters away.
Slater exhaled and then withdrew to sit at his desk. He continued. “I understand only one of the two injured men survived. What kind of an incompetent doctor are we cursed with? Just what the hell do you think the rest of colonists will think when they find out there’s been a death on our second day on Eden?”
Casey watched the man through red-rimmed eyes.
Slater took a swipe across the top of his desk and sent a sheaf of printouts fluttering to the floor. Then he grabbed a plastic glass and threw it at the bulkhead; it bounced back and hit him in the chest. There was something about the man’s extravagances that struck a chord of amusement in Casey.
Slater bolted to his feet and stormed back over to Casey, who was still in Yamaguchi’s arms. “You think this is funny?” He took hold of Casey’s face and squeezed it until his mouth looked like that of a fish. “Laugh at me, will you? You lunatic! I’ll pinch that stupid little head right off your neck,” he added through clenched teeth, but then let go, pushing Casey’s head back with the palm of his hand.
When he continued he had regained a degree of control. “I presume you at least saved the man’s testicles and an adequate tissue sample.”
When Casey failed to answer, Slater threw his arms up in the air. “Do you still think this is a game?” His voice was hoarse with frustrated fury. “How the hell do you expect us to survive as a viable colony without everyone’s genetic material?”
Casey’s eyes searched the room: the overhead, laced with light-lines; Slater’s desk, with the built-in monitors; and finally the rear bulkhead, which contained an array of computer screens.
“Damn you! Look at me! You’re so spaced you aren’t even hearing a word I’m saying. Damn it to hell!”
Finally, in utter disgust, Slater ordered Yamaguchi to remove Casey from his sight before he killed him. While Casey was being carried out, onto the bridge, Slater was already issuing orders to someone via his com-collar.
When Casey awakened, he was on his sleeping pallet in the instrument lab. He struggled to a sitting position and gathered his thoughts. He thought about the accident the day before and the unusual injury pattern the men had suffered. It had been on his mind ever since he had examined the victims. It appeared that both men had come into contact with a powerful electrical current. Their lower extremities had third degree burns, but there were also severe burns on their backs and arms. In fact, every surface that had touched the ground had been charred. Yet, neither man had come into contact with the malfunctioning transformer.
A cheerful salutation, too cheerful, interrupted his thoughts. He looked at a pair of legs standing next to him, dressed in the maroon of the humanities. His eyes followed up the uniform until he saw a smiling redheaded man with electric-blue eyes.
“Top of morning to you,” the man repeated in a pleasant voice. “You are Doctor Conklin, I presume.”
Casey continued to study him, but said nothing.
The man ignored Casey’s cold reception and continued as if Casey were responding favorably. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Padraig Glancy, formally of humanities, music is my primary, but I’ve been assigned to you as your student. I’m to be a doctor in training, so to speak,” he concluded with a warm, self-effacing laugh.
“Shove it up your ass,” Casey said in an even voice.
The man withdrew his hand.
“I know you,” Casey continued. “You’re no more a humanity-tech than Slater is a leader. Didn’t think I’d remember you, did you? My mind wasn’t that foggy when you delivered me to Slater and your cronies so they could beat the hell out of me, but I remember you from even further back, when you were sleeping peacefully in your cryo-capsule. You’re another one of the blanks.”
Padraig spread his fingers and studied them before looking up. “I don’t know what you mean by the term ‘blank’, but I guess I may as well admit I’m not a humanity-tech by training. No use in trying to fool a smart, old codger like you.” He smiled with youthful innocence, his beautiful teeth flanked by dimples.
“Where are Li Quon and Jon Brent?” Casey asked.
“Ah, well,” Glancy said, “I’ve been told they’ve been reassigned to the agri-techs. Seems they’re short-handed and need personnel for the test farms. I know I can never replace the likes of Li Quon. As for Jon Brent…well, enough said. I assure you, I’m only here to learn, not to cause you aggravation.”
Casey scowled at the sunny-faced youth.
The man stopped his beaming smile and put on a face of pained earnestness. “Doctor Conklin, let’s face facts. I’ve been ordered to be your assistant and student. Orders are orders. I have no choice, just as you have no choice. I’m sure you can use an assistant, even an untrained one. So, let’s make the best of a difficult situation.” He extended his hand again.
Casey ignored it and pulled himself painfully to his feet. He stood face to face with the man, who looked at Casey out of the tops of his eyes, as if he were nothing more than a small and vulnerable boy.
“Please, Doctor Conklin,” the man implored.
Casey shook his head. “What the hell,” he said under his breath, and then more audibly, “Where’s my buddy, Yamaguchi?”
Glancy shrugged his shoulders.
Casey didn’t pursue it. As they were about to enter the treatment room, Casey paused and turned to face Glancy. “By the way, if I were you, I’d save that phony load of crap for someone else. I’m not impressed.”
Glancy smiled, and Casey added, “In fact, if I see much more of that idiotic smile, I may be forced to jam it down your throat.”
Glancy’s smile faded. “Doctor Conklin, are you threatening me? What’re you going to do? Give me a serious tongue-lashing? Did you really say ‘Jam it down my throat’?” He laughed. “You’ve got ballacks, I’ll give you that.”
Casey stared at him.
Glancy laughed again. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss."
“Right,” Casey replied sarcastically and hobbled into the treatment room.
He ignored Glancy as he studied the monitoring output from the regeneration tank. When he had completed his assessment, he was satisfied the man would survive, thanks to Li’s quick thinking. He wondered where she had learned that technique. It certainly wasn’t taught anymore. He wished Li was here to help, instead of this self-serving dandy.
“What could possibly have happened?” Casey muttered as he studied the man in the tank. His reverie was interrupted by Glancy clearing his throat. He turned to look at the man.
Glancy spoke. “I took the initiative to interview the power crew and they told me the transformer must have been defective. Its circuits were fused. Water, or some other conducting liquid, had seeped into it. My theory is that, when the short occurred, it must have allowed an energy build up that discharged as an arc into the two approaching men.” He looked down at the instrument counter a
nd rubbed his fingers across the surface, as if he spoke in all modesty.
Casey watched his performance for a moment before he answered. “You know, Glancy, you’re not even real shit. You’re fake shit. A rubber turd.”
Glancy looked up sharply, fire in his eyes.
“Finally, an honest reaction,” Casey said. “I was beginning to think you were just one facade on top of another. If I peeled away all your various personas, I expect I would see the wall behind you.”
Glancy eased back and leaned against the bulkhead; the flush faded from his face.
“All right, Conklin, why don’t you set me straight?”
“First of all,” Casey said, “I saw the whole thing and I guarantee you, there was no arc. Secondly, even if there had been an arc, the distribution of the burns would’ve been much different. These men were burned as if the energy came up from the ground. And thirdly, how do you explain water damage to the transformer? Do you think, perhaps, it rained in the Storage Deck while we were in deep space? I suggest you begin your brilliant investigation over, but this time ask them how the current was transferred to the victims and ask them how they can explain the water damage.”
For once, Glancy’s face was expressionless, but Casey wasn’t about to let up. “I guess Slater won’t need a more official report than the one you’ll provide for him and, when you see his imperial majesty, you can tell him to send me someone a bit more forthright than you and I’ll be more than happy to begin training.”
Glancy began to object, but closed his mouth without voicing his thoughts.
“You better get a move on, Mister. You have no idea how dangerous this place can be if you don’t know the equipment. The results could be a lot more serious than a tongue-lashing.”
Glancy turned to leave, but then stopped. “Conklin, there’ll be a time when your usefulness won’t be quite so vital. If I were you, I’d try to be a little more civil, that is if you expect to survive.”
“Get the hell out! I’ve already survived more years than I expect you will.” Casey smiled coolly. “What more could a man want?” He turned his back on the stranger and heard the portal swish open and shut.