"I think you're right," he replied. He turned to Robert. "Robert, are you doing anything that couldn't be done from Dorm 8's terminal?"
Robert reddened. "No, sir, I guess not."
Cesar nodded. "Does this terminal have full functionality?" Franks nodded. "Then," Cesar continued, "I would appreciate it if you would move to the Dorm 8 classroom. I believe Messer Sun is right; I will need privacy for some of the things I must do."
Robert's lips tightened. "Yes, sir," he said stiffly. He began gathering his equipment and tools, while the lengthening silence became more and more oppressive. Finally he slipped from behind the teacher's station, and strode stiffly from the room, back straight and shoulders rigid, resentment in every movement.
Cesar sighed. "I was sorry to have to do that, but you were correct. I knew I couldn't tell Tara what I needed to if Robert was there."
Sun grinned. "He'll get over it. Besides, that's why I wanted to make sure he heard it was my idea. Maybe he'll just resent me, instead of you. He's a very useful man, and you can't afford to antagonize him unnecessarily. But at the same time, you can't afford to have him hearing everything.
An hour passed, and Vlad and Susan returned, carrying a hot meal for Cesar. Sun smelled the food and hurried off for his own.
"Welcome to the new Colony Headquarters," Cesar said. "Or, as Sun calls it, the 'Dictator's Sanctuary'. He shook his head and sighed. "I really wish he'd stop using that term. Oh well. To business. Susan, as I recall, your lab was on Deck 4. I guess that means it no longer exists."
She nodded. "I'm afraid so, Cesar. On the bright side, though, I did some research on the computer, and learned that there is a fairly complete bio lab among the prefabs down below. I gather it is designed more to be an agricultural research station, but it should serve." She shrugged. "I guess it will have to."
Cesar frowned. "Susan, our most immediate and most threatening challenge is that we have crashed on a planet about which we know nothing. I suspect we've already been exposed to the air, though the computer assures me that the atmospheric pressure is slightly lower outside, and it is possible that prevented local atmosphere from entering the ship.
"The point is that we need to know whether we can survive on this planet, and what plants or animals or even bacteria can kill us, and what we can do about it. I know that your bio lab was destroyed, but what can you do to analyze the atmosphere and things? Obviously, it's really urgent."
Susan nodded thoughtfully. "I may be able to analyze the atmosphere at least, using the med lab on Deck 7. I'll need samples in sealed containers. And then, if you'll have people bring me samples of plants and even small animal and insect tissue in sealed containers, I'll do my best." She shrugged. "You understand that the med lab equipment is much less precise than my bio lab stuff, and I can't guarantee I won't miss something."
Cesar shook his head. "All we can do is what we can do."
They chatted some more while Cesar ate. Finally Sun returned, and Susan realized that her presence was inhibiting important conversation.
"Well," she said, gathering Cesar's dishes, "I think I'll go see if I can steal Dr. Koumanides' med lab." She waved Vlad, who had started to rise, back into his seat. "You guys get back to settling the future of the human race."
"If you see Boyet, would you tell him I'd like to see him, please?" Cesar shouted at her retreating back. She acknowledged the request with a wave as she passed through the door.
Cesar and Sun briefed Vlad on the establishment of the "headquarters" and their discovery of the Armory. Vlad shook his head. "I don't think I'd advertise that, if I were you."
Cesar chuckled. "I don't plan to. The only people authorized entry are me, you, Sun, here, Boyet, and Tara."
Vlad's eyebrows rose. "Tara? Why Tara? Really, Cesar, I think you place too much importance on that woman."
Cesar shrugged. "Perhaps. But I expect her access to be temporary. Once we have a scout corps established and equipped, I'm hoping to find someone more qualified to command it."
He took a deep breath. "But now, gentlemen, I must undertake a most important and difficult duty."
He turned back to the computer terminal. "Can I be connected to all PA systems, viewscreens and tablets simultaneously?"
"Your thumbprint will be required to assume administrator status, but this unit possesses that capability."
Cesar rolled his eyes and mashed his thumb onto the pad. "Please connect me…now." He said, and then he straightened as a small red indicator lit up.
"May I have your attention, please?" He began. "My name is Cesar Montero, and for the moment, at least, I am Chairman of the Governing Council and, at the Captain's dying wish, in command of the ship.
"As you know, we have crashed on the planet. By now, all of you know about the horrible loss of life caused by the crash, and many of you have been serving on search parties and body retrieval parties.
"Thanks to the courage of the Captain and crew, most of us survived, though nearly all the crew died in their heroic sacrifice of landing the ship upside down. For the moment, we appear to be doing as well as possible. The ship seems stable, and almost level. Most of you already know that food service has been restored, and most supplies are once again available from the computer. The computer itself appears largely unharmed, except for loss of the VR function, and loss of many of its sensors.
"Decks above Deck 6 are destroyed or uninhabitable, and we plan to seal them off for our protection.
"Thanks to the courageous sacrifice of the Captain and crew, the decks containing the equipment and supplies that we will need to establish our colony are largely unharmed.
"So, given the circumstances, we are not badly off. We are still capable of building our new world. But there is much to be done, and much of it must be done soon.
"First, bodies should be sealed into emptied storage rooms and voids. They will be disposed of as soon as possible. I regret that traditional funerals will be impossible, given the numbers involved.
"Next, all dorm militias are hereby placed under the authority of Boyet Mamerto, our interim security officer, who will be responsible for the clean-up efforts and maintaining order.
"Next, all remaining dorms are requested to hold elections among their surviving residents to elect a representative to the Governing Council. Those representatives should contact me by computer, or at the Dorm 7 classroom, so we can begin planning our new colony.
"Next, all residents from rural areas, or those with military, hunting, fishing or other outdoor experience are asked to volunteer for a scout corps that will explore our surroundings and protect us from native threats.
"Next, representatives to the Governing Council are requested to complete a census of their dorms, by name and ID number, if possible. Patients in the med bays are already being identified, so those patients need not be reported by the dorm representative." Cesar sighed and shook his head. "Nor will it be necessary to identify the dead. We must focus on the living. We must know how many survivors we have, and what skills they have to help the colony survive.
"Finally, and most important, You all know that we were not scheduled to ground for another month, to permit study of the planet. That study had barely begun when the emergency occurred. As a result, we find ourselves grounded on a nearly unknown planet. We are fortunate that the famous microbiologist Dr. Susan James survived the crash, and is even now analyzing information about the planet.
"But we have no information about the dangers of the planet itself. It may be that there are deadly viruses, microbes, plants, or even animals outside this ship. So please, do not try to leave the ship, yet! Until we know more, one person venturing onto the planet could kill us all.
"All of us will have much to do in the coming weeks. Much of it will require quick and decisive action, and I ask your patience and your help. If you are asked to do something, please understand that it is for the survival of all of us, including yourself. Please be patient and understanding, and if you
have any skills you think might be useful, please contact your dorm representative. Thank you." He signaled, and the computer cut the connection.
Vlad and Sun exchanged glances and grins. "He's trying to get out from under again," Vlad said.
Sun shook his head. "Won't work."
"Nope."
Cesar tried to put on a thunderous expression, but failed miserably. "With the deck 5 dorms gone, except for 25, there will be 13 on the Council," he said. "They are the ones that will appoint a Chairman, or a Colony Administrator, or President, or Fuehrer, or Emperor, or whatever they decide to call him."
Vlad shook his head again, white teeth gleaming in his mahogany face. "They'll decide to call him 'Cesar', if they have any brains."
Cesar rolled his eyes, just as there was a knock. At Cesar's "Come in," Boyet Mamerto came in.
"Nice speech," he said. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to make me head cop?"
Cesar shrugged. "There was not exactly a wide selection of candidates." Then his grin flared. "I trust you, Boyet, and I know you will get the job done." He told him about the armory.
"Great!" Boyet said. "I won't need it yet, everybody's still pretty much in shock. But it won't take long for the grifters and creeps to start showing up.
"Oh," he continued, "What I came to tell you. You won't be hearing from the Dorm 10 rep."
Cesar frowned. "Dorm 10…Arheed? What's the problem?"
Boyet shrugged. "He's taken all the survivors from his dorm outside."
Cesar snapped to attention. "Outside? Is he insane? He could kill us all!" There was a gabble as Vlad and Sun also reacted to the news.
So it was that less than half an hour later, the residents of Dorm 10, scattered about the dirt of the large gouge scraped into the soil by the huge starship's passage, watched with growing nervousness the approach of over a dozen armed men in space suits.
They watched uneasily as the men spread out and encircled the people lounging in the sun for the first time in years. A small, rather pudgy man strutted importantly up to the leader of the suited men.
"Here! Here," he bellowed, "What is the meaning of this? I am Abdul Arheed, leader of this dorm. Who are you, and what do you want?"
"Ah, yes," Boyet smiled from behind his faceplate. "Messer Arheed. You and these people are to return to the ship immediately under quarantine. You will be quarantined in your dorm until it can be established that you present no danger to the lives of the rest of the colony."
Arheed stared. "Have you lost your mind? You want to take us back into that wreck, in danger of collapse or falling debris? Read the reports! Look around you! This planet is Earthlike! The fools that stayed aboard are the ones in danger, not us!"
Boyet shook his head. "Man has lived on Earth for thousands of years, and there are still bacteria, plants and animals that kill us. For all you know, the air you're breathing, the soil those people are sitting and lying on, the plants those fools are examining, could be deadly to us.
"You and your people will not be permitted to infect the rest of the colonists," he continued. "You will either return with us to the ship peacefully, or we will stun you and carry you. Your choice."
Arheed's face purpled. But those of his people within hearing were now looking frightened, jumping to their feet and staring at the dirt as though it had suddenly sprouted fangs.
"This is that chink Montero's work," he hissed. "I'll have you know I am a member of the Governing Council. You have no authority to order me around!"
Boyet's smile widened. "Actually, this action was ordered by unanimous agreement of all the surviving Council members. Except yourself, of course." He raised his stunner. "What's it going to be?"
With a glare at Boyet, Arheed began gathering his people and starting them back toward the ship. Those who'd been close enough to hear the conversation began repeating it to those who'd been farther away, of course, and by the time they reached the ship, people were frantically scraping the dirt from their shoes and practically running for the personnel airlock through which they'd exited.
They found all the hatches opening on the corridor sealed, and spacesuited men with tanks of disinfectant followed them back to Dorm 10. Once all 64 had entered, the hatch was closed and sealed. They found that their quarters were roomy. The 53 survivors from Dorm 9 had been spread among the other dorms, and its hatch sealed, as well. Under computer instruction, Life Support Specialist Cordes had given them a dedicated air supply, actually pumped in from the outside.
Arheed, of course, immediately called Cesar. "You damned chink! What do you think you're doing? If any of my people are hurt because you dragged us back aboard a wrecked ship, I'll…I'll make sure that everyone knows that you're responsible!"
Before Cesar could respond, Vlad jumped in front of the pickup. "And if people start dying from a plague you brought aboard, you fool, I'll make sure everyone knows about that, too! And if you ever use that term to Messer Montero again, you and I are going to have a little talk! Maybe you've got a term for me, too?"
Arheed paled, but put on an angry glare. "Nonsense. There was no danger. All you have to do is read the drone reports. Messer Montero, our unelected dictator, is the threat. Him, and this falling-down wreck of a ship!"
Cesar shook his head. "And exactly where did you expect to find food for your people out there, Messer Arheed?"
The small man shrugged. "I was certain we could find volunteers brave enough to return to the ship and get food for us."
"And shelter?"
"Hmph! Do you think I'm a fool? I was already selecting scouting parties to see what could be salvaged from the wreck."
Vlad stepped forward again. "Actually, Messer Arheed, I do think you're a fool, and a bigoted one, at that. Risking the lives of people who elected you to lead them, just because you can't believe a chink could know what he was doing was certainly the act of a fool." Without waiting for Cesar, he severed the connection.
Sun chuckled. "I haven't heard that word in twenty years," he said.
Cesar smiled. "Actually, I've never understood its meaning, or why it was supposed to be offensive. He certainly meant it to be offensive, though."
"Ha!" Vlad laughed. "You should try being black in NorAm. You're supposed to get offended by everything but whatever the currently fashionable term is. I've been through 'negro,' 'black,' "Afro-American,' and 'African-American.' Even after America was absorbed into WorldGov, we had 'Afroam' and finally 'Afro'. The only one that really lasted was 'black,' and it's still the most-used. But those who make a career of being offended keep trying, of course. After awhile, you just get tired of trying to keep up." He shrugged. "Oh, there is one term that kinda pushes my button, but it's the oldest one, and I don't hear it much anymore."
Cesar called Cordes and Tom and asked them to his 'office.' George Cordes was as tall as Tom, but he was a thin, intense man with a dusky complexion and nervous manner. Cesar congratulated him on a good job for quickly arranging the air supply for the quarantined dorm.
"I have a job for the two of you," Cesar began. "As you know, any areas remaining above deck 6 are damaged. More importantly, they're full of human remains that cannot be retrieved, or even cleaned up. The computer tells me that the fusion reactor should be back online in a few hours, if no new problems are found. That will let us deal with the bodies we've collected down here. But within a day or so, we will be suffering from a nasty stench and threatened by illness from necrotic products. I'd like the two of you to inspect as much of the upper decks as you can reach. First, I want to know how hard it will be to seal off the entire area above deck 6. By 'seal off,' I mean make an airtight or nearly airtight seal. We need to keep the bugs out, both microbe and insect. And perhaps also as much of the odor as possible.
"Second, I want to know what will be required to make the ship weather tight, both above and below deck 6. We must expect rain at any time, and water can carry as many microbes as air. Besides, one of our highest priorities has to be protecting the
computer. We're going to need it desperately." He smiled. "It will be a nasty job, and a difficult one. But it's an essential one, and the sooner we can get it done, the better." He paused. "You might check with Dr. Koumanides to see if he can give you some masks to help with the odor."
Cordes snapped to attention and threw Cesar a crisp salute and an equally crisp, 'Yes, sir!' Tom just grinned and clapped the thinner man on the back. "We'll take care of it, Cesar. Probably take a day or so, though. Y'know," he added, "I think I'll see if any of my students will volunteer. The more eyes the better. And the quicker."
Cesar nodded. "I understand. Choose your helpers carefully, though, Tom. We don't have time to redo mistakes."
"That reminds me," Cesar said as the two men left. "Computer, what stores of breathing and surgical masks do we have aboard? As I told them," he explained to the others, "I'm afraid we're going to have a horrible stench hanging over the ship for a few weeks."
"Current inventory of odor-proof breathing masks is 100,000," the computer responded immediately. "This does not include 1,000 life support kits with filtered air supply, and seventy space suits with independent air supply. Supply of surgical masks is approximately 50,000. This is an estimate, as over 500 have been issued so far, and usage is ongoing and impossible to establish."
Cesar sighed and nodded. "Connect me with Dr. Koumanides."
When the harried-looking doctor appeared on his monitor, Cesar asked, "Doctor, when can we expect odors from decaying bodies to become a problem, and how long will they persist?"
The doctor frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but that is difficult to say. On Earth, I would say the main immediate odors will be of urine and excrement expelled by the bodies, and the smell of blood, of course. The decay odors would not normally be a problem for several days. Of course, here, the majority of the wounds will involve crushing, which will release bodily fluids and may speed the chemical action of putrefaction. How long they last depends on the actions of scavengers and bacteria, and of course we have no idea what that will be here."
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