Stranded on Haven

by William Zellmann

  As soon as we reached the lifeboat, I stripped Ollie's chubby body out of the spacesuit, and crammed him into the lifeboat's emergency med cabinet naked. It was an anxious five minutes later that the med cabinet pronounced him stable enough for transport to Startrader. When we reached Startrader Lisa had two 'bots standing by, with a float chair with a life support bubble to carry Ollie to the med bay He would undergo decontam there while receiving treatment.

  I had to strip and go through decontam normally; Startrader lacked Adventurer's fancy new airlock room. So, I had plenty of time to curse myself. I'd known Ollie was ill since we'd met; I'd held off offering him use of my medical facilities because I wasn't sure of his loyalties. If he didn't make it, if he died, one of his planet's most valuable citizens would be gone, and it would be my fault! My selfishness had prolonged a good man's misery, and now might cost him his life.

  It was over an hour before Lisa could report. "The patient is in very serious condition. The heart is severely damaged, and the lung cancer is serious. There is also the natural deterioration of aging. However, I estimate his chances of survival at 87%, and of recovery at 76%. If he survives the next 74 hours, his chances of survival approach 100%, and of recovery, over 92%"

  I spent the next three days in an agony of guilt and worry, constantly badgering Lisa for progress reports. I got very tired of hearing, "Emergency treatment is ongoing. No significant progress at this time."

  At last, though, she said, "Emergency treatment is complete. The patient's chances of survival are now estimated at 96%, and his chances of complete recovery from all damage is estimated at 92%. It is recommended that he remain in the med bay for another 126 hours, as the nano require special nutrients to repair some of the damage."

  I didn't know it at the time, but all of Haven was waiting as anxiously as I to see if Ollie lived. The workers had unfettered access to radio transmitters, and the people of the planet knew of Ollie's collapse nearly as soon as I did. I gave the workers regular reports, of course, and they passed those on as well. I understand that there were parties planet-wide when I reported that he would survive.

  The first I knew of it was when Jane reported receipt of several thousand messages for Ollie, and almost as many for me. I took the ones from the various heads of state first, of course, and found that they were mostly demands that I do everything I could to save Ollie. Those from Presidents Curran and Runtz were notes of encouragement, telling me that they were sure I would do everything I could for Ollie. Those from the New Home and Cornwell were more demanding in tone.

  It seemed that our unusual situation, coupled with the wide reach of radio, had made Ollie the first planet-wide celebrity. Toray, of course, cashed in on his position by demanding immediate transportation to Adventurer, where he could monitor developments personally. Without explicitly saying so, he managed to convey his suspicions of me, and hinted that I might even be responsible for Ollie's condition.

  When he arrived, after a perfunctory inquiry regarding Ollie's condition, he insisted on visiting him immediately. He seemed surprised to learn that Ollie was actually aboard Startrader, not Adventurer, though that information was common on the radio news. I flew him over to Startrader, where he did, indeed, visit Ollie. For about three minutes. He professed himself amazed at Ollie's healthy appearance, and urged him to a quick recovery before demanding to return to Adventurer and his office. Once there, he began calling all his contributors and contacts, assuring them that he would "remain on-scene until the Professor's welfare was assured", hinting that this would involve overcoming my resistance. But he also professed himself "up to the challenge" of assuring Ollie received only the best care.

  Of course, radio is not a private medium, and any broadcasts from space were monitored by almost everyone who could find the frequency. His reports and hints led to his own status as a minor celebrity, and louder and more vicious suspicions of me. Lisa, of course, was listening in, and relayed his comments to me.

  Ollie was conscious and active by this time. He remained in Startrader's med bay only because his nano required special, rare nutrients, and to make certain that any custom nano were available if needed. In between his demands to be released from the med bay and returned to duty, Ollie was scandalized by hearing Toray's broadcasts. His demands for release ceased, but he became an avid listener of radio news programs, including Toray's broadcasts, which Lisa was dutifully recording.

  After three days of constant listening, Ollie asked me if I could arrange for him to broadcast. "Of course you can, Ollie. Just use your tablet to tell Erna the frequency you want to use. She has a database of the most widely used frequencies for various purposes."

  Ollie smiled, and somehow his cherubic face turned positively evil. "Erna," he began, "Do we have a frequency for the President of New Home Broadcasting?"

  "I have a listing of the Administrative Offices of that concern," Jane's … er … 'Erna's' voice replied. Ollie nodded. "That will do. Please connect me."

  When the company's radio operator responded, Ollie said, "This is Doctor Ollar Canva, calling from Startrader in orbit. Please connect me with the President."

  The man snorted. "Another crank call? Listen, you, we've been getting dozens of calls claiming to be from Doctor Canva. But everyone knows he's in a starship's med bay on the edge of death. Goodbye. Out."

  "If you disconnect," Ollie said hurriedly, "it will be the last thing you do as an employee of New Home Broadcasting. Run a trace on my signal. It should not be hard to tell that the signal is coming straight down! Over."

  The man didn't disconnect. "All right smart guy," he said in a resigned tone, "But If I can trace your signal, and it isn't coming straight down, the next sound you hear will be cops beating down your door! Over."

  Several minutes went by, and then he returned. In a much more respectful tone, he said, "Doctor Canva, the president is not available at the moment, May I connect you with the Program Director? Over."

  "That will be fine, thank you. Over."

  The voice that came on was firmer, older. "Doctor Canva, is it really you? Oh! This is Jan Tremer, Program director of New Home Broadcasting. We've been given to understand that you are hovering at death's door. Over."

  "Yes, Messer Tremer, it's really me. The last time your station interviewed me was at my retirement six years ago. The interviewer was Lou Jargo. The interview was boring."

  "I remember." There was a smile in the voice now. "My I record our conversation? or can you wait a few moments while I arrange to broadcast it live? Over."

  Ollie nodded, smiling. "Of course, Messer Tremer. Or you may do both. If you would prefer, I would be happy to talk with one of your on-air reporters. There is no need for me to monopolize the time of the Program director. Over."

  "Doctor Canva, I have no duties at this moment more important than talking with Haven's premier scientist! Over."

  "Oh, I say," Ollie replied, "That's overstating it a bit, don't you think? Over."

  "Not at all, sire, not at all. Shall we begin? Over."

  "Of course. Any time you're ready. Over."

  After a few moments, Tremer spoke, in a deeper, more dramatic tone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, New Home Broadcasting is honored to present a live radio interview with Doctor Ollar Canva, direct from his bed in the medical bay of the starship Startrader. Doctor Canva, thank you very much for joining us this morning. Can you tell us what happened? Over."

  "To put it simply, I had a heart attack. And were it not for the immediate and heroic efforts of Jerd Carver, the star man, I'm sure I would have died. Over."

  "Really? We were rather under the impression that Messer Carver was, if anything, reluctant to commit his incredible resources to your survival. Over."

  "I don't know where you're getting your information, Messer Tremer," Ollie replied. "I was unconscious, of course, but I have talked with several of the men involved in my rescue, and they all agree that Messer Carver saved my life. We were preparing to enter a part of the
ship that has no air, and were putting on spacesuits to go there. I was partially suited when I felt a pain in my chest, and everything went black.

  "According to several witnesses, Messer Carver caught me before I even reached the floor. When he determined that I still had a heart beat, he got several of the workers to help him finish suiting me up, while he called Startrader and ordered the ship to send robots to meet us on the way to the landing bay and to transport us to Startrader.

  "Thanks to his foresight, a lifeboat with a med cabinet was waiting for us. A med cabinet is a small cabinet lined with medical sensors and emergency equipment and connected to the ship's artificial intelligence. As soon as the med cabinet reported that it was safe, Messer Carver brought me over to Startrader, and I woke up almost 72 hours later. Since then, I have felt absolutely fine. But Startrader's AI tells me I should remain here for another 24 hours, to make sure the … the nano can complete my recovery. Over."

  "Nano? I don't believe I've ever heard that term before, Doctor. Can you tell our listeners what that is? Over."

  Ollie was smiling. "No, sire, I cannot. But Messer Carver himself is here, and I'm certain that he can. As you know, Messer Carver has been most reluctant to speak publicly, but perhaps I can persuade him on this occasion. Messer Carver? Over."

  I grimaced at Ollie as I took the old-fashioned tablet. "Good morning, Messer Tremer. This is Jerd Carver speaking. Over."

  Tremer sounded impressed. "Thank you for taking the time to speak to us, Messer Carver. Can you explain the term "nano" as Doctor Canva used it? Over."

  I threw Ollie another grimace before replying. "Only a layman's explanation, Messer Tremer. My ship's AI could give an in-depth answer, but it would probably take over an hour. Nano are actually microscopic, single-purpose robots. There are thousands of individual varieties, each devoted to performing a single function in the repair of the human body. "Surgery" today usually involves injecting a carefully selected 'soup' of various nano, which immediately go to work repairing damage from injury or illness.

  "That's why I had to bring Dr. Canva to Startrader instead of simply moving him to Adventurer's much closer and much larger med bay. The problem, you see, is that while nano are robots, they have an organic component that has a definite life span. Adventurer's nano should have expired centuries ago. While we're uncertain if that is true due to the fact that they were frozen for over 400 years, I elected not to take the chance with Dr. Canva's life. Without potent nano, Adventurer would have had to fall back on old style surgery, and I doubt that Dr. Canva would have survived. Over."

  "I see," Tremer replied. "And are these wonderful 'nano' to be among the many blessings we can expect from you in the future? Over."

  "I'm afraid not, Messer Tremer. Nano technology is centuries beyond Haven's state of the art. As I understand it, nano are now created by other, larger microbots, because humans do not possess a fine enough touch to assemble a robot under an electron microscope. The nano are barely detectable by a normal microscope. Startrader's AI tells me that she does not possess the knowledge needed to train a microbot to assemble nanobots. Advanturer actually does possess the necessary information, but it is useless without robots to assemble the microbots to assemble the nanobots. In a century or so, with the help of Adventurer and the Space University, perhaps that capability will exist. For now, we must settle for ordinary surgery. Over."

  "I see. And what about the nano now on your ship? Are you prepared to use it to help some of the dying on Haven? Over."

  I sighed, with the mike open, so Tremer and his listeners could hear. "Messer Tremer, Startrader is a freighter, not a liner or a colony ship. She has a small med bay, and an equally small supply of nano. Trading companies are not known to be generous with their crews, and the crew of Startrader numbered only 24. The supply of nano is very limited, and Doctor Canva used a significant portion of that limited supply. I am not prepared to play God and decide who lives and who dies. So my answer must be a reluctant 'no'. Over."

  "Saving it for yourself, eh? Over." His tone was cynical.

  "If you wish. Tell me Messer Tremer, how many people are at this very moment dying on Ourhavem? Hundreds? Thousands? Suppose I was able to give you the power to save ten of them, or even fifteen. How would you decide who to save? And would you decide in time to save them?

  "No, I consider myself blessed to have been able to save Dr. Canva's life, but I am only one man, sire, not an angel or a God. Over."

  "I see." His tone had a definite edge of coldness, and I suspected I hadn't helped myself by allowing myself to be interviewed. He switched victims. "Dr. Canva, I understand that you've enjoyed the close support of Chancellor Toray in convincing Messer Carver to sacrifice so much of his cherished nano. I'm a bit surprised you haven't mentioned that support. Over."

  Ollie's evil grin was back. "I can't imagine where you got that impression, Messer Tremer. Messer Carver's 'sacrifice' has been amazingly enthusiastic. In fact, it was only a moment ago that I learned I used a 'significant' portion of Startrader's nano; certainly it had never been mentioned to me, by Messer Carver or anyone else.

  "As for the Chancellor, he was kind enough to visit me for a few minutes shortly after the ship's AI announced that I would survive. Over."

  Tremer pounced. "We were under the impression that he was a constant visitor and companion, nursing you through over the objections of Messer Carver. Over."

  Ollie's grin widened. "Really? I can't imagine where you got that impression. Aside from the single visit I mentioned, I haven't even seen the Chancellor. Indeed it has been Messer Carver who was my constant visitor, putting up with an old man's bad humor and complaints. Over."

  "Are you saying the Chancellor is lying? Over."

  "Of course not," Ollie replied while rolling his eyes. "You did not mention the source of your information, and I have no opportunity to put his statements into context. And I'm afraid that if this is going to turn into an attack interview, I must bring it to an end.

  "I called because I have received thousands of messages from well-wishers, and have been hearing rather unflattering characterizations of Messer Carver. I wanted to thank everyone for their good wishes, and to state that while Messer Carver may not be a God, in my opinion he's come pretty close to sainthood. Thank you, and goodbye. Out." he clicked off without giving Tremer a chance to reply.

  The radio interview was live, of course, but when it was rebroadcast, while Ollie's portion was pretty much intact, except for his remark about the interview becoming an attack, the portion featuring me was heavily edited to eliminate my explanations, and I came off as a selfish jerk, hoarding knowledge that could save thousands of people.

  Ollie gave me a shrewd look. "I hope that this convinces you that you have enemies; perhaps more of them than you thought. Toray, for instance, is an enemy. He's powerful and influential. Be careful of him."

  He sighed. "I owe you my life, Jerd. In fact, I owe you more than my life, I owe you my youth. Your amazing nano have not only repaired my heart, but even my hearing and vision are better than they've been for years, and miz Lisa tells me that my entire body is being repaired. So, I'm going to presume on our short acquaintance, and give you some advice.

  "Toray is an enemy because you humiliated him, but even more because he knows you're indispensible to him, and yet uncontrollable. He will do anything in his power to reduce your power or get revenge on you. But he is not your only enemy on Haven.

  "Duke Richard is a very pleasant and charming man and an excellent poker player. He has nothing against you personally, but he is fanatically loyal to King David and New home. He resents the fact that King David does not rule all of Haven, and that Firstlanding is not its capitol. He sees that control of Adventurer and Startrader could accomplish both those dreams in one fell swoop. He is certainly even now searching for ways to break your control over transportation to and from orbit. If he accomplishes that, you will soon find both ships fortified and occupied by New Home, unive
rsity or not, and yourself a prisoner, either actual or virtual.

  "You have enemies even among those who have never met you,. Some envy you your power and wealth. Others subscribe to conspiracy theories that have you preparing to take over the planet.

  "My point is that it is time for you to begin planning for the time when Duke Richard succeeds in gaining control of your landers, or simply gains control of the University. I assume you can secure Startrader somehow. Most of the work crews have returned to Haven; only those involved with planting and tending the hydroponics deck remain aboard Adventurer.

  "I suggest that this is the perfect time for you to sneak down to Haven and begin building a nest egg and a refuge on the planet. Several false identities, perhaps. You need a way to disappear in case of need."

  I smiled. "A nest egg? I'm doing very well from my shuttle business."

  Ollie shrugged. "But for how long? Do you really think that the account that receives that money won't be one of the first things they grab? Or if you run, that they won't use it to trace you?"

  He continued for several more minutes, but he'd made his point. I'd made a slight start on that by asking Heidi to sell the diamonds and spread the proceeds among a number of accounts. But perhaps Ollie was right. Even now the radio commentators and call-in show hosts were becoming more and more hostile to me, especially those in New home and East Brent. With years to plan and plot, and perhaps dozens of agents among the University's staff and students, Duke Richard was almost certain to find a way to wrest control of the landers, and perhaps even the ships, from me. At that point, my continued survival would become an unjustified risk; I would have to be imprisoned or killed. Given my threat that the ships would self-destruct if I were killed, imprisonment for life seemed the most likely scenario.