Wisecroft’s two goons responded immediately by aiming their laser rifles at Martinez.
“I am not a monster,” said Wisecroft with a confident smile. “I am a humanitarian. The death of one man will no doubt convince the vast majority of your settlement that they have made the wrong choice. They will be safer and better cared for here, and in the end, there will be much less suffering.”
“Can I shoot him?” asked Martinez, without breaking her stare from Wisecroft. She looked fiercely determined, her short black hair, multiple facial piercings, and cold glinting eyes presenting a formidable demeanour.
“Zac!” called Jaz. “He’s crashing again!”
“It’s your call, Dr Perryman,” said Wisecroft. “If you agree to the patient’s permanent immigration status, we will open the doors and treat him immediately. But I suggest you decide quickly.”
“You cruel bastard!” exclaimed Kit.
“All right! I agree!” said Zac. “Tye stays with you. Now, quickly, help him!”
Wisecroft nodded his head and said, “Open the door.”
Immediately the nearest loading bay door swung down and formed a gentle ramp. Leibman and his medical team, who must have been waiting on the other side, ran down the ramp and took possession of the patient, rushing him inside as they desperately worked on him. Zac and his team moved to follow, but Wisecroft’s goons swung their weapons to cover the whole group, and Wisecroft said, “Your job here is done. You may leave now.”
“But—” began Jaz.
“Tye is one of our citizens now,” continued Wisecroft. “He has nothing to do with you.”
“But he has a wife and a son at our settlement!” said Martinez, who had gotten to know everyone on the tree-felling team.
“They will be very welcome to immigrate,” said Wisecroft, “along with anyone else who comes to their senses. Settlement City is a warm, welcoming community, and we will hold no grudges against any rebels who see the error of their ways.” Somehow his smile did not reach his eyes, which seemed cold and calculating.
Ben Miller stepped forward and said, “We need nano-blood. It was overlooked in the sharing of medical supplies.”
“That is most unfortunate.”
“Are you refusing to give us some?” asked Zac.
“Of course.”
“How can you refuse?” asked Ben.
“Because any help we give you only perpetuates your rebellion and delays the inevitable merging of the two settlements. The sooner you realise the hopelessness of your position, the sooner our colony can be reunited and have the best possible chance of flourishing.”
Zac shook his head. “Have you considered that having two viable settlements in two separate locations might actually be a better survival strategy? Surely it would provide a buffer if one settlement was afflicted with localised drought or pestilence or disease!”
“You’re wrong, Dr Perryman. Of course, eventually we will need to spread out, but it’s way too soon for that. Unfortunately, I am the only one who seems to understand this. A great leader is one who sees what needs to be done and is prepared to do it, even if he is not understood. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a city to run. This conversation is over.”
With that, he turned and walked into Genesis, leaving his two guards pointing their rifles at the group.
“Let’s go,” said Zac. “We can’t do anything more here.”
“Yeh,” said Martinez. “Let’s get out of here before I puke!”
The return flight to Seahaven was not a happy one. They were furious with Wisecroft and discussed scenarios of how they might have handled the situation differently. But, apart from an outright gun battle, they concluded there was nothing they could have done to achieve a better outcome. Wisecroft had them over a barrel.
50
Nova Day 12
The morning briefing of the Seahaven City Council had a heavier air than usual. On the positive side, Tye had survived his surgery and was making a full recovery. His wife and son had been informed and were already packing up their few possessions, ready for the shuttle flight later in the morning that would reunite the family. A further eight people had also decided to emigrate, voicing concerns over their own safety should an accident befall them.
The issue of greatest concern, of course, was the denial of access to the medical facilities on board Genesis.
“Wisecroft has us over a barrel,” said Zac, repeating the conclusion he and the others had reached on their flight back yesterday. “If we don’t have access to Genesis, we are only one accident away from another showdown. And every time that happens, we will lose more colonists.”
Lance looked at Ben. “Is there anything we can do to shore up our existing medical facilities?”
Ben thought for a moment. “Our most pressing need is blood for transfusions. With a blood bank on site, we can probably handle almost all medical emergencies, including fairly complex surgeries. Nano-blood is ideal, as it can be frozen indefinitely and thawed very quickly for transfusion. Without nano-blood, we will need to revert to an organic blood bank. That would be more complicated, but it can definitely be done, with help from the science department.”
Carla, head of science, asked, “What would you need?”
“I assume you have centrifuges?” Ben asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“In that case, we would need to separate the plasma, platelets and red blood cells, and freeze them all separately. This will ensure the long-term viability of the blood when it is thawed and reconstituted. The thawing and reconstituting process will take a little longer than nano-blood; 10 minutes or so. That means we will need to always keep a small supply of liquid O-negative blood refrigerated for immediate use while we are thawing the frozen blood. O-negative can be given to anyone, and it will last for up to 42 days, refrigerated. A bag of plasma can also be thawed almost instantly and given to a patient to increase blood volume while we are waiting for the matched blood type to be thawed and reconstituted.”
Carla responded positively. “We can easily do all that.”
“What percentage of a general population have O-negative blood?” asked Lance.
“About 7 percent,” replied Ben.
“So that means that with the Seahaven population about to drop to 319 with this morning’s departures ...” Lance did a quick calculation, “we should expect to find 20 to 25 people who are O-negative.”
“Yes,” agreed Ben. “And once we have established a frozen blood bank with a reasonable supply of each blood type, we will only need one fresh bag of O-negative every 42 days. With 20 people to draw from, each one would only need to give blood once every two years or so.”
“OK,” said Zac. “That seems to solve the blood problem. What else do we need to do, in order to become medically self-sufficient?”
Ben considered the question thoughtfully. “Firstly, Jasmine and I need to read up on surgical procedures. We will need to be able to tackle anything. I am confident we can do it, but we’re not quite ready for open-heart surgery tomorrow. Secondly, we will need a more self-contained surgery, particularly an operating theatre that isn’t in a draughty tech-hut like this. A converted shuttle would be ideal, as it has an airtight seal as well as an unlimited direct power supply and an independent life-support system. Would that be possible?” He looked around the table.
Lance, as logistics coordinator, responded. “I think that’s doable. We have eight shuttles and we certainly aren’t using them all.”
Zac asked, “Anything else?”
“Yes,” said Ben. “Thirdly, and most seriously, we have a limited supply of antiseptic and anaesthetic. We probably have enough for six major operations, possibly eight in a pinch, but once those supplies are gone, we will no longer be able to operate.”
There was silence for a moment.
Finally Zac spoke up. “We can’t predict the future. How many surgical procedures will we do each year? We just don’t know. All we can do is set oursel
ves up for the present. By the time our supplies are exhausted, the current stand-off might well have resolved itself.”
“Plus,” added Carla, “we might be lucky. If we can identify some plants with naturally occurring anaesthetic or antiseptic, our amazing science team may be able to extract and synthesise more.”
The Council spent several more minutes fleshing out the details of their plans for a self-sufficient medical centre, including enlisting and upskilling the most promising medical trainees from their time on board Genesis. The blood drive would also begin at once, with everyone in the town asked to give an initial litre of blood.
Updates from other departments were then quickly given, and other issues requiring immediate action were addressed. The settlement was moving ahead at a rapid pace.
Finally Zac asked, “Anything else?”
“Meat!”
Everyone looked at Martinez.
“We need meat,” she extrapolated. “I can only eat so much damn fish before I start growing gills!”
“Do you have a suggestion?” asked Zac.
“The howlers, for a start.”
“Go on.”
“I spoke to the loggers at Red Gum Hill over the comms last night. They barbequed the howler that Boyd shot yesterday. They reckon it was pretty good. Lean and strong-flavoured—a bit like venison.”
“No ill effects?” asked Regina, the head of agriculture.
“It didn’t do the howler any good.”
Everyone chuckled.
“I want to suggest that we actively cull the howlers nearest the settlement,” Martinez continued. “It’ll have the dual benefit of making it safer for us and also provide an added food source.”
Lance asked, “How long until you’ve freed the caterpillar?”
“Two more trees to go this morning and then we can drive that sucker out of there. It should be back here by mid-afternoon. Once that job’s finished, I want to mount daily hunting expeditions, using the quads, to clear the howlers from our immediate area.”
Zac looked around the table and said, “Makes sense to me. Any objections?”
Grizzle spoke up. “Barbeque, you say?”
“Yep,” replied Martinez.
“Missy, I don’t know what those blockheads up there in the hills define as a barbeque, but you haven’t tasted a barbeque until you’ve tasted mine.”
“Sorry, old-timer,” she replied, “but you haven’t tasted a barbeque until you’ve tasted mine!”
“Is that so?” he replied.
“I just said it, so it must be so.”
They stared at each other with mock severity for a few seconds.
“How much are you willing to wager on that, missy?”
Martinez thought about it for a moment, and then a sly smile crept across her face. “The loser becomes the winner’s slave for a week.”
“Deal!” exclaimed Grizzle. “Oh boy, this is gonna be like stealing candy from a child!”
“We’ll see about that, grandpa!” Martinez replied.
“OK, you heard it folks,” said Zac. “It’s the Great Barbeque Cook-off! Let’s schedule it for tomorrow night, provided we can bag two howlers by then.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Martinez.
And so, it was decided. Fresh on the heels of the wedding celebrations only a few days earlier, another party would be just what the community needed to lift their spirits. Little did they know that they were soon to endure a season where there was little to celebrate.
51
Nova Day 14
A day and a half of hunting had bagged not just two howlers, but nearly 30. As nocturnal hunters, the howlers were sleepy and lethargic during the day, lying in shady groves and in caves and rocky overhangs in the foothills. Most of the dead howlers were left to rot where they were killed, which, it was hoped, would send a message to other howlers that the area was no longer safe for them. Four carcasses were brought back; one to be examined by the biology department, and three to be barbequed at the Great Barbeque Cook-off. A third contestant had entered the fray—Keo, who claimed that his traditional New Zealand hangi was far superior to the western barbeque.
“What’s a hangi?” asked Melody, as she watched Keo digging a large hole.
“It’s how the Maori in New Zealand traditionally cook meat. First, a large hole is dug, and a very large, red-hot fire is lit at the bottom. Once the fire has turned to glowing coals, large rocks are placed in the hole, which also get very hot. Then meat, flavoured with secret spices and wrapped in leaves, is placed on top of the rocks and covered with a wet cloth of some kind. The hole is then filled in with soil and the meat is left to cook in the ground for about three hours.”
“Wow! That’s amazing!” said Melody. “Can I help?”
“You can’t help him, missy!” said Grizzle, a mere 10 metres away. He was constructing his spit in preparation for his own barbeque. “He’s big enough and ugly enough to do it all himself. How about you come over here and give an old man a hand?”
“OK.”
“No you don’t!” said Martinez, on the other side of Keo. “Neither of them needs any help. Besides, us girls should stick together, don’t you think? I’ve got some things you could help me with.”
“OK. What can I ...?”
“Now, now, everyone, play fair!” said Zac, walking into their midst, having heard the interchange from nearby. “Melody, don’t you help any of them. They all talk a big game, but let’s see if they can deliver. They have to do it ALL themselves, with no outside help.”
“Who put you in charge?” asked Grizzle.
“I just did. Any objections?”
All three opened their mouths, but before they could get a sound out, Zac said, “Good! It’s settled, then. I’m the boss, and I say no help from anyone, or else you’re disqualified.”
Grizzle shook his head and muttered, “Give a boy a water pistol and he thinks he’s a general!”
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of frantic activity, with all three contestants labouring to prepare their fires, dress the meat, find spices and, finally, beginning the slow cooking process. Each of them had visited Regina at the ag-hut during the morning, to concoct a secret blend of herbs and spices, and Keo had also spent several hours around dawn at the beach, arriving back with some supplies that he kept hidden.
Keo had the most work to do initially: digging a large hole, carrying large rocks to the site and then butchering the carcass into smaller portions to be wrapped up and buried. He had stockpiled a supply of rocks the previous afternoon, only to wake up and find that they had mysteriously disappeared overnight. Foul play was suspected, but as the culprit could not be identified without substantiating evidence, a stern warning was issued to all contestants that no further shenanigans would be tolerated.
By the time Keo’s hangi was finally covered in soil, he was dripping with sweat and his shirtless, impressively muscled torso was glistening, soliciting more than one envious glance from passing females.
“Keep your eyes in your heads, ladies!” Prisha had yelled out at one stage. “He’s all mine!” Then she had gone up to him and kissed him passionately, much to the delight of several onlookers.
In fact, a small but growing crowd had gathered as the day had progressed. By the time Keo’s hangi was filled in, it was late afternoon and several dozen people had pulled up chairs in front of the three cooking spots. They sat drinking passion nectar and engaging in a running commentary on the progress of the contestants. Keo wandered off to the beach for a swim and came back refreshed and beaming. He plonked a seat in front of his hangi, accepted a drink from a supporter and began chiding his competitors, who were sweating over their spits, and would be for a couple more hours.
“That looks like very hot work, Martinez,” he said, looking across at her face, which was glowing red and perspiring profusely. “I’d love to get you a cool drink, but I’m not allowed to help you.”
“I’ll tell you where you can
stick that drink!” she said, much to the hoots and laughter of the crowd, who were thoroughly enjoying the show.
Keo looked across at Grizzle. “Your old arms must be getting very tired, my friend,” he said with mock concern, as he sat back in his chair and took another satisfying sip of his drink. Grizzle was, indeed, beginning to grunt with exertion each time he turned the large beast on his spit.
“I was turning a spit before you were even a twinkle in your daddy’s eyes, you young whipper-snapper! And I can still outlast anyone half my age!”
“Well that’s fine, then,” said Keo. “As long as you’re not in any discomfort. In that case, I might just lay down in the shade here for a while and have a little nap.” With that, he lay down on the ground and pretended to go to sleep, amidst the laughter and hoots of the gathering crowd.
As the time for the feast rapidly approached, serious wagering was conducted among the crowd, all of whom had strong opinions regarding the eventual winner. All kinds of things were wagered, including personal possessions and services of various kinds.
Finally, after consulting with all three contestants, Zac announced that the tasting would commence in ten minutes. Everyone would have an opportunity to taste the meat from all three contestants, and then a vote by show of hands would be cast.
Keo uncovered his hangi, extricated his wrapped meat and placed the steaming, still-wrapped meat portions on a trestle table. He stood behind it with a knife in hand, ready to start carving and handing out portions. The other two contestants were simply going to carve meat directly off the spit for each person.
“Let the tasting begin!” yelled Zac. People were already lined up at each table and immediately the carving and distribution began. As Keo unwrapped the first large haunch of meat, a gasp went up from those nearest the table.
“There’s fish in it!” someone exclaimed.
Zac, standing nearby, overheard the comment and came over. “What’s this?” he asked.
The Stars That Beckon Page 26