Symbiosis Chapter 13

   Jackson stood outside of the shuttle and looked around while the rest of the team climbed out. He gazed far to the horizon where jagged rocks shot out of the ground reminding him of Stonehenge and the bizarre red rocks of Utah simultaneously. In the opposite direction he could see the research settlement, several metallic Quonset huts scattered over a couple of acres.

Eta Cassiopeia A, the only star of significance, floated high in the sky, mid-day at the coordinates of the Kiian research station camp. Eta Cassiopeia B was a small orange ball of gas 40 AUs from the A star, about the same distance as Pluto orbited from Sol. It was obviously a close star. Eight moons were invisible in the bright light, but each orbited in harmonic balance around the planet avoiding collisions and conjunctions.

Jackson checked the temperature: 42 C. Not intolerable if the humidity was low. And it seemed low at 0.6% water vapor. The sky wasn’t significantly dissimilar to Earth, a very pale blue caused by the scattering of the short light wavelengths in the atmosphere. Plants were small, sparse but evident towards the settlement yet absent in the stone formations.

He took a handheld scanner and searched for water, but nothing registered for at least ten kilometers in every direction.

“No lakes or rivers here; we might as well head for the settlement,” he said to the party. He hooked the scanner onto his belt and began to slowly pick his way through the sand and rocks.

“Captain, the oxygen here is only 14%, and the air pressure only 6.2%. We will need to stay in our EV suits. Gravity is confirmed at 0.81 of Earth," said Mr. Rougeau.

As the five humans trudged toward the buildings in the distance they flushed a small flock of birds that stopped them briefly. Going on, several small reptilian animals also scattered in front of them with every foot fall. Insects buzzed and darted constantly while they traversed two kilometers to the station. As they approached a door, Jackson signaled the Kiians inside with his transmitter.

“Please enter the vestibule and wait for pressurization,” came the instructions. A small door slid to one side revealing a small room with another small door. The party ducked and entered, and waited for the outer door to close and lock. A full minute later the inner door opened and two Kiians stood casually, waiting.

“Take off your EV suits, you’ll be fine here,” the female said. “I’m Gorren, this is Teek. Welcome, please come in. You can hang suits right here,” she said and walked to a wall with several heavy pegs used to keep suits off the floor.

“I’m Captain Jackson of the Science Ship Maria Mitchell, Dr. Adams, Dr. Ferris, Ensign Rougeau, Sergeant York.”

“Welcome, Captain. Come with us.” Pleasantries aside, environmental suits hanging and helmets stowed, Gorren and Teek led the humans along a short corridor and stopped at their station’s mess hall to offer ale and fish before proceeding with business.

“This is gracious, but we have all eaten,” Jackson said. “How do you get fresh supplies like this? You must have cargo vessels arriving frequently.”

“Try the ale, at least, Captain,” Gorren insisted, handing all the members of the landing party a melamine style cup and pouring from a convenient decanter near the doorway. They poured some for themselves, so Jackson decided they were not likely to be poisoning his party. He’d never remembered Kiians being quite so cordial, although the concierge fellow on Enceladus was always jovial at his desk.

“Thank you, this is very good.” He nodded to the crew that they should also try the amber liquid. Because Jackson and York were the only members fluent in Kiian, the captain did all the talking. Sergeant York, in charge of the armory and security, had come along in her capacity as a security officer.

“We have been making this for decades out of a native succulent here on the planet. And as for the fish, it’s also native.”

“Fish? Marine life?”

“Yes, we have Plants, Arthropods, Chordates, Protista, and Thermophilic Bacteria.” Jackson wished he’d brought Rianya along. He might have been relatively fluent in their language, but not in scientific biology-babble. He’d never been good with that subject but seemed to be faced with it regularly ever since taking commission in the Space Administration. He nodded as if he knew exactly what the woman was referring to. Since he had Dr. Adams along, he had the luxury of ignoring that information.

“It’s my understanding that a mass extinction occurred here just a few hundred years ago,” Jackson said. Sgt. York continually translated for the doctors and navigator.

“That appears to be true. We’ve been trying to nail it down for a few years now, and it appears to have begun about 600 years ago.”

“Well, as you know, we’ve come to collect a most unusual artifact.”

“Yes, Teek and I discovered it ourselves in a particularly dry region several kilometers from here.”

“You’ve already received compensation for it if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes, Captain Jackson, we’ve prepared it for you but to preserve it we highly, highly recommend that you put it in dry storage, not refrigeration.”

“Could we see it first?” Dr. Ferris asked through Sgt. York. She almost whispered the request. Jackson was surprised she spoke up since she was not one to socialize among the crew. He, too, had grown accustomed to her unusual coloring but the Kiians stared to the brink of disrespect.

“Yes, come this way,” Gorren said, and they began a short journey down the hall away from the mess room. “There are no ice caps here. Fresh water is scarce, even brackish water, but what is here the creatures are well adapted to it. It provides a particularly good environment for preservation of fossils.”

The small knot proceeded along the corridor void of artwork or personality. They must have gone 100 meters before they finally came to the storage compartment. Dr. Ferris pushed to the front of their little crowd. Jackson was again surprised, but not bothered. It was nice to see his crew taking the lead when appropriate.

Teek opened the door and politely held it for the rest of the party. Shelves from floor to ceiling along one wall were narrow, along another wall wide, but all harbored various items like broken pottery and tools. And on the wide shelf, a two meter neoprene box marked “HUMANS” on the side. Jackson assumed the posting was meant to keep the wrong aliens from taking it as opposed to it containing more than one person inside. He hoped. At least there was no image of the contents stuck to the outside like a can of cherries.

Gorren stepped up to the box and opened two latches on front like a steamer trunk. The lid opened slowly on hydraulic hinges, and inside was a heavy canvas type bag sealed with a sticky plastic tape. She pulled the tape off and opened the bag.

A poof of dust wafted out revealing a peacefully preserved humanoid body. Dry, shiny grey and maroon skin stretched over the skeleton, all organs intact, with remnants of clothing that were remarkably well preserved, as if they’d not deteriorated but a few years. It lay in a fetal position, eyes closed, hands folded over its chest. Jackson felt a chill down his spine that actually shook him. Dr. Ferris pushed her face close and reached in to touch the preserved person.

No one said a word for perhaps a full minute while Sgt. York and Ensign Rougeau stood back and Dr. Ferris and Dr. Adams moved in close. Captain Jackson stepped back to speak to the Kiians when his voice came back.

“It’s not necessarily human,” Jackson said to Gorren and Teek.

“Oh, but it is. It has been DNA tested. Here’s the results,” Gorren said, pulling a sheet of paper from inside the box and handing it to him. He glanced at it and handed it Dr. Adams.

“Oh, base pairs, cysteine, guanine, adenine, thymine. Yes, these are human sequences. Of course, they could also be some other species’ sequences but we can’t rule out humans,” Adams told Jackson. “And there’s some I don’t recognize.” He held the paper to Gorren and tapped a few of the patterns pointing them out to her. She looked at York for a translation.

“We identified Human and Pegasi, but the others are not in our databases.” Jackson shuddered at the thought of a Human and a Pegasi together and wondered how that had ever happened. That was like putting a Great Dane with a Chihuahua, only one was also green. 

“Do you have any additional supporting documents for us?” Jackson asked.

“Here are a couple of items we found with the remains,” Teek offered. He reached his shaggy hand into the body box and pulled out a small drawstring bag. Jackson opened it and found a few personal items including a finger ring that at first appeared silver, but upon close inspection was in fact platinum. Small scrolling designs like vines encircled it, and Jackson admired the workmanship, turning it over in his hands. There was something that looked like a rank insignia, a small metal box, empty, and a tiny glass tiger no bigger than a human thumb. One other thing that caught his eye was a purple stone like the one he'd given to Rianya. It was set in a gold bezel as a pendant. He slid the items back into the bag and put the whole thing in the box.

“Well,” he said to Gorren, “I suppose we can get this out of here for you.”

“Captain Jackson, there is no rush. Would you and your crew like to join us for our mid-day meal? We’d be honored to have you.” He thought quickly. It would be rude to just grab the body and run. It never hurt to be cordial with aliens. Gorren refastened the bag to keep the air out, then stood on her toes to reach the box top, shutting the lid on the mummy. Another poof of fine grey dust escaped the tomb.  

“What do you say, everyone? Anyone hungry?” 

Symbiosis Chapter 12

“We’re only one day from heliosphere of the Eta Cass system, Captain.”

“Thank you Lieutenant. Which planet is on approach to the star, if either?”

“Cuatro is in our path; Cinco is in opposition on the far side of Eta Cassiopeia A. It will be at nine AUs from Cuatro, 72 light minutes.”

“We might as well make our pick up on Cuatro then. Everyone is anxious to get off the ship, including myself.” The star ahead could have been mistaken for a distant planet but for the brightness of its corona. “Let’s drop to ISS speed and let the Kiians know of our approach. I never know about them; they might have planetary defense systems around their research stations. At any rate, find out.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Mr. Watson, while you’re at it, be sure to send a daily status to Earth starting today. When there’s nothing much to report weekly is fine, but we’re here, so it’s time to step it up.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I’ll be in the doyen’s office,” he said to the two officers and excused himself to assemble a landing party and put together a plan to invite the Kiians aboard.

“Sick bay to Captain Jackson.” Tom tapped the intercom button lightly.

“Jackson.”

“Captain, it’s a few days early but it’s time for everyone’s 100 day check in. I’d like to finish before anyone goes down to the planet.”

“Sounds good, who is left?”

“You, sir.”

“Oh,” Tom muttered. He’d become proficient at avoiding medical exams over the last couple of years not for any medical reason, but that he disliked all the personal chatter designed to reduce anxiety over the intimate circumstances of the 100 day Exam. At least Doctor Adams was senior to him, male, and their intimacy had never been affectionate as it had been with Dr. Karabou Clarke.

“Jack?”

“I’m a little busy,” he said, shuffling some readers on his desk, looking for one with superfluous noises.

“Come within the hour, Captain,” the doctor said. His tone was insistent. Tom winced, in private, but didn’t know how to squirm out of it any longer.

“Within the hour, Doc.” With a medical exam hanging over his head, he couldn’t concentrate on the mission. He decided to get it over with and stop agonizing.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” the doctor said. Philip Adams took a spry couple of steps toward Jackson when he entered sick bay.

“Let’s get it over with.”

“Have a seat,” the doctor said with a wave in the direction of the exam table. Tom took off his shirt but then sat and fidgeted, waiting for the doctor to get started.

“So how is the crew's health after five months, now?” Adams brought a small container of assorted electronic devices, putting stickers and clips on Tom’s forehead, fingers, and something new that Tom didn’t recognize on his chest. Data appeared on the medical monitor from the devices: Temperature, Pulse, Respiration: 37.5, 68, 18; Blood Pressure 124/77, Weight 81.1 kg.

“Everyone is in top condition, including you,” the doctor said while glancing at the monitor. “We’ve even had improvements. I think boredom sends people to the gym more than on the ground.”

“Okay,” Tom said, sliding off the table and reaching for his shirt.

“Where are you going? I have more baselines to record.” Tom clamped his jaw together and hoisted himself back on the table. “Want to know the weirdest thing?” Here it came, the chat. Tom was not in the mood for chat. He could be in the office putting his mission together, reading to Zalara, or any number of things besides having a routine med exam that would turn up nothing.

“Weird, how do you mean, weird?”

“Honey York, that’s what. She was born insulin resistant, never had an artificial pancreas, and in the last 100 days she’s become totally normal. Can’t explain it.” This conversation rang a familiar bell with Tom. He debated with himself whether he should confess that Zalara the Empath did it.

“How do you think it happened? Diet? Radiation? Low gravity?” The doctor laughed.

“I don’t have an explanation,” he said while placing his hands on Tom’s back, feeling for something but Tom had no idea what. “Get this, though. She said your daughter did it with magic. Kids’ imaginations haven’t been lost in this generation.”

Tom had known Adams nearly ten years. Rianya might chew his ass, but he didn’t think it was right to withhold something as important as this.

“She did, Doc. She’s an empath.”

Adams and Jackson locked eyes. The doctor scanned his patient’s face. The captain offered no jest.

“An empath? Really? I didn’t know they really existed. It all makes sense now,” the doctor said, breaking off the stare and looking around the room as if the answer had been written on the walls. “That explains your med history, Jack.” Adams was downright accusatory.

“Yes, and Honey’s cure. Rianya and I tell her not to do it but she just does.

“Does she have any after effects? Does she take the problem on herself?”

“Not that we can tell.”

“When Rianya brought her in for her exam no one said anything!”

“We’ve been keeping it under wraps. Rianya is terrified that Zalara will be kidnapped again--”

“I understand, really, I can understand,” the doctor said, removing the sticky pads and electronic gadgets from Tom’s skin. “You’re fine, but I’d like to run a synaptic analysis for you. Make sure that glioma isn’t coming back.”

“You know it’s not, Doc.”

“Humor me,” the old gentleman said nudging the captain to lay back on the table. The doctor placed four transmitter sensors on Tom’s head and the readings promptly appeared on the monitor as obedient wavy lines. A rhythmic whooshing from the Doppler faintly pulsed over a speaker.

“Nothing there,” Tom said without looking at the monitor. The doctor simply glanced at him and removed the sensors, tossed the captain’s shirt at him.

“But for one thing you’re in perfect health, better than perfect for a man of 50.”

“And that might be?”

“Besides above average testosterone, which isn’t a problem, you have above average blood sugar levels.”

“Above average, is that all? You’d think I could do better than that.” Adams waggled a finger at him.

“Jack, you’ve been running high since I’ve known you, so stop putting so much damn sugar in your coffee.” Jackson grinned.

“It’s not worth drinking black.”

“Oh, get dressed and get out of my sick bay.”

~~~

“We’ve been expecting you, Maria Mitchell. We’re sending coordinates of our outpost. Research Three out.”

“Thank you Research Three, we’ll see you in a few hours. Maria Mitchell out.” Jackson shut the channel from the control panel on the arm of his chair, then opened a new channel. “Cinco landing party, report to the shuttle bay at oh seven thirty.” He shut the intercom. “Lieutenant Lee, good work, thank you for getting us here. You have command.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Jackson left the bridge for his quarters to say goodbye to Rianya and Zalara.

“You slipped out of here early this morning,” Rianya greeted him when he came in the door. She poured a cup of coffee, put three portions of sugar in it and handed it to Tom. She held it just out of his reach until he traded a kiss for it.

“I don’t understand why this stop on the hot planet is so important just to pick up a dead body.”

“It’s not just any body,” he told her, sitting down. “I told you it’s old, much older than it should be. We’re going to have Dr. Adams refute, or confirm, its age.”

“And then what?” she asked. Tom realized she had no concept of what they were facing. If the body was truly part human and centuries old, it could prove the theory that travel in time was possible, if not explain the mechanism by which it happened.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Try me,” she insisted, sitting next to him on the divan. Tom smiled at himself for opening this can of worms.

“Is my pet still asleep?”

“Most assuredly, sir” she said. Tom chuckled at her words. “I got that from Quixote.”

“Of course you did.” She raised her delicate brows and smiled. Tom figured he had nothing to lose. “Love, if it’s as old as the Kiians say it is, the body may have come from the past.” Rianya tucked her chin and smiled.

“I always said you’re a crazy man.” She pushed him gently in the chest and got up. “You’re teasing me. Tell me the truth.”

“It’s something we want from the Kiians.”

“Part of the biology problem, maybe?”

“Unlikely. The Kiians are doing research on Cuatro, have been for decades,” Tom said and nudged her with the empty coffee cup. She took it and set it down on the table nearby.

“I’m going with you,” Rianya told him as she went to get dressed.

“The atmosphere’s marginal; you’ll have to wear an EV suit.”

“I’m not going with you,” she said and turned back to Tom.

“We’ll only be down for the day, just to talk with the Kiians and pick up the cargo.” Tom went into Zalara’s bedroom to kiss her goodbye. He watched her sleep for a moment first, then returned to his wife.

“Be safe,” she said.

“Of course. See you tonight.” He didn’t quite want to leave, but he needed to get off the ship, and of course, take command of the landing party. He took a last look at Rianya before he shut the door, watching her walk away, her mountain of hair cascading down her back, almost covering her entire torso.

He quickly made his way to the launch bay to join the other crew members. Of course, they’d wait for him, but he hated being late to anything. It wasn’t the overt attention, but the need to set the example, to keep his word, to demonstrate integrity that the rest of the crew would follow. The chronometer read 07:30 exactly when he walked in.

“Good morning everyone, Dr. Adams, Dr. Ferris, Ms. York. Where’s Mr. Rougeau?”

“In here sir!” The voice came from the shuttle craft, its hatch open for embarking. The four climbed in, Jackson shut and locked the door, then sat next to the navigator and called the bridge.

“Bridge, requesting clearance to take off,” he said. He could hear the pressure change outside the craft and the vibration of the bay doors opening.

“Stand by Osprey. Bay is depressurized and doors are open, you are clear to leave the nest.” Jackson nodded at Rougeau and in a few moments they’d turned 180 degrees and were headed down to Cuatro.

“Sergeant York,” he began. “Is this your first landing party for the Maria Mitchell?”

“Yes, sir,” the armory chief stated over the roar of the rockets and atmosphere outside the skin of the craft.

“You’ve dealt with Kiians before?”

“Yes, Captain, on Earth, at their embassy.”

“That’s right, I remember,” he said, realizing that although he’d hand-picked his entire crew he didn’t always memorize everyone’s background. “This is a research sect, not diplomats. Just be aware they’re not used to humans on their turf.”

“I’ll have us down in three minutes,” the young man piloting the vehicle announced. It’s right near that peninsula, the coordinates,” he said. Jackson looked out the landing windows and saw small buildings growing larger by the second.

“Set us down by those trees in that clearing,” Jackson said.

Firmly on the ground, the party of five humans donned helmets and fastened them to their environment suits at the collar. They double checked each other for oxygen pressure, secure connections, and tested their com-links. When the pressure equalized, they climbed out of the shuttle.

Symbiosis Chapter 11

Rianya Jackson took Zalara to the gym where her daughter and the Armory officer’s daughter, Honey, came to meet up every morning ever since they’d left the Sol system. With a crew of only twenty nine people, everyone knew the two young girls. Zalara, with her father’s aquamarine eyes, was half a head shorter than Honey and two years younger. Honey resembled her own mother, a Dutch woman with flashing sapphire eyes and pale blonde hair. Two small fish in an enormous ocean, they bonded instantly and were almost inseparable, even at the end of each day.

Precocious and well disciplined, they spent much of their time in the gymnasium but were often found in the mess, crew quarters deck, or even on the elevator standing at the edge of the open door looking into the bridge, but not daring to step a foot upon it.

“When I got this posting,” Cat said to Rianya, “I wondered what I was going to do with Honey. I didn’t want to leave her with family for so long. But when the captain said I could bring her along, even insisted, I was so grateful.”

“I also am glad you came on board and brought her. I’m not sure what I would do with her all day as her only companion.”

“We both have other jobs to do,” Cat said. “But if we each put in one hour a day, they could have two hours of formal school. And maybe some of the other crew would be willing to teach them what they know, even if they give one hour a week, if we had four or five of them?”

“You’re so smart, Cat, that’s brilliant. Perhaps Ms. Henderson, Dr. Gregory, and Bailey, she could teach them to cook.”

“You would let Zalara in the kitchen?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t think it’s dangerous?” Rianya laughed under her smile and looked Cat in her eyes.

“Compared to what?”

“I see what you mean,” the armory officer said. “I see danger around every corner,” she explained. “I’ll ask the regular crew if you can ask the officers. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with asking the doctors.”

“Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” Rianya said. “If it keeps the girls off the bridge, Tom, uh, the captain will be willing to let everyone have an hour off every week!”

They both glanced at their daughters playing a virtual game of badminton using electronic rackets and a life sized monitor. They’d already played several rounds of golf and a couple dance programs since breakfast.

“Can I ask you a question about Zalara?” Rianya felt a hollow swell in her stomach all of a sudden.

“Sure.”

“Honey has had insulin resistance since she was a baby. She’s never been allowed to eat simple sugars and carbohydrates. Dr. Adams told me she is perfectly normal, that she could have saccharides and sugar, carbohydrates – everything she wasn’t allowed to have she can have.”

“Really? Since when?” Zoe twirled a handful of her blond hair.

“A week ago. I asked Honey why she had a muffin in her hand and she said that Zalara fixed it. She was upset that Honey couldn’t eat the same foods, I guess. You know, they were in the mess, and Zalara didn’t understand insulin resistance, of course.”

“What did you want to know?” Rianya asked. Here it comes: how did her disease go away all of a sudden?

“Honey said Zalara touched her, here,” Cat pointed to the left part of her abdomen. “Then told her it would be okay.”

“Did Honey eat something she wasn’t supposed to? I hope Zalara didn’t make her eat--”

“No, no, but what a crazy story. I told her put that muffin right back where she got it and at the baseline exam with Dr. Adams he said she wasn’t diabetic like her record indicated. So we got into a conversation. Did Zalara say anything to you about Honey eating breads or sugar?”

“It’s strange, I agree,” Rianya said. “Zalara never mentioned it to me, but I’ll certainly talk to her later and see what she has to say.”

“It’s just strange, Honey saying Zalara got rid of her disease.” Rianya maintained her composure, calmly smiling and lifting her shoulders slowly.

“Do you have the time to watch them now? I told Dr. Ferris I would help her put together some field equipment.”

“Of course, I’m the on call during the day and the entire armory on the night. Can you come back by  eleven hundred to take them?”

“I’ll see you then!”

Rianya detoured on her way to the laboratory up to the doyen’s office and signaled Tom on the bridge from there.

“Bridge,” he answered sounding puzzled.

“Captain, please come to the doyen’s office.” She didn’t want to sound like the captain’s wife but as one of the mission specialists that she had become. A moment later Tom came in with a smile on his face and shut the door.

“This is, unexpected,” he said.

“Zalara is at it again.” Rianya sank into a chair with a huff.

“What? How do you know; what happened?”

“Honey told her that she couldn’t eat any of the sweets in the mess hall. Your daughter put her hand on the girl’s, uh, what the word, whatever that thing is called, here, that takes sugar out of blood,” she said, poking Tom at the bottom of his left rib cage.

“Her what?”

“She healed her. I don’t know how or when but the security chief no longer has a daughter with insulin resistance thanks to Zalara.”

Tom sat in the chair behind the desk and covered his face with one hand. Rianya waited patiently, wondering what he might say.

“That’s not such a bad thing, is it? All we can do is remind her not to ‘empath’ people. Is that even a word?”

“I don’t know. But she can’t keep doing this. Someone is going to find out, and it will be the kidnapping thing all over again.”

“No, it won’t come to that. It’s just us here, the crew.”

“It was the crew of the Stephen Hawking--”

“It was one corrupt person on a ship not under my command. Not this crew.”

“I can’t trust her.”

“She only wants to help, Love, she’s not trying to hurt anyone. We’ve asked her to do it before so why would she think it’s wrong?”

“She’s not minding.” Tom looked up across the table at her suddenly.

“I should have Zoe issue you a uniform if you’re going to take charge like this.”

“I only here like Dr. Jane or Dr. Scott, not officer with shiny buttons like you.”

“You’ve become a significant member of this crew. Look at you, coming up here to the doyen’s office to give me a status report and tell me to get the problem solved.”

“I’m sorry, Tom, I--”

“Don’t be sorry! It makes me proud of you.” Tom walked around his desk, pulled her out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his with no room for a molecule between them. “We have an extraordinary child. She just needs to learn to get permission first. Don’t discourage her gift.”

“You are soft on this because she took that thing out of your head. I understand that, but--”

“You’re right; I owe her my life. And she’s my little girl, so let me spoil her let her cure people if she wants to. It’s not a terrible thing.”

Tom could be unpredictable, strong and soft at the same time. When she looked up at him those familiar but alien round black pupils, they meant security, safety, protection. She shifted her shoulders back to look at him but he didn’t loosen his grip.

Tom was 20 centimeters taller than she was; his precisely tailored uniform outlined his salient physique. Rianya found herself appreciative of what belonged to her alone. How did he always make her feel aroused, especially when he didn’t try?

“We could use the table,” she said with a deadpan expression but for one fine, slender eyebrow raised in jollity. Tom looked at her for a long moment before he turned away and snickered.

“You vixen,” he said. He kissed her quickly and let her go. “I have to get back to the bridge.”

“Your sorrow,” she told him with a smile and a shake of her shoulders. He clamped his hand over his mouth, hiding his smile, and slipped out the door to the bridge. She headed down to the laboratory.

“Rianya, hand me those agar plates,” Dr. Ferris said, indicating two stacks of flat round dishes with lids on them. Like enormous casino chips, they sat stacked and ready to be engaged in business. Rianya’s small hands, three fingers and a thumb, prevented her from grabbing both stacks at once, but she was fast moving them from the lab table to the supply chest. Her thick hair was braided, plaited behind her to keep it from getting in the way of her work. Wearing a classic white lab coat like the doctors wore, she felt quite like part of the biology team, responsible and trusted by Dr. Ferris and Dr. Adams.

“Are you looking forward to the moon mission next week?” Dr. Ferris asked.

“The going part or the being there part? I’m not much of an explorer. I don’t like the ride, and I’m not much for going from planet to planet, wearing the environment suits, adjusting to different gravity…”

“Anya, you don’t have to go on the mission if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Rianya said clearly, touching Dr. Ferris on the arm to make sure she understood. “I love new life forms and animals more than I not like the ride and the EV suit.”

“I think you’ll make an excellent microbiologist. You just have to master the medical language.” Dr. Ferris smiled. Rianya had gotten used to the lack of symmetry in the woman’s face although at first she had to go out of her way to ignore it. It was as if she’d been put together from two different parents. Her skull and body was human, indeed, she was a human, but she had one blue and one brown eye, and her hair was light, almost white on one side and dark, almost black on the other. The coloring in her skin was not uniform, dark brown but not black like Dr. Clarke, but also with large patches of pale pink around her shoulders and neck and the side of her face with the blue eye. Even her hands were odd that random fingers were brown or pink; the nails matched the color of the individual finger.

“Thank you, Dr. Jane. I will do my best for you.”

“Do it for you, not for me. I only wonder how many of your people have the capacity for advanced learning like you but simply no access. I’d say many of them, likely. The captain is okay with your joining the landing party, I take it?” She raised the black brow above the brown eye.

“Of course. He said since we’ll be orbiting he can play father for the day instead of captain.”

“I am a little isolated down here sometimes,” Dr. Ferris mentioned, leaning against a table top. “Who actually is second in command on the ship?”

“Dr. Gregory, and Mr. Lee, although I also believe Dr. Adams has a higher rank. I think it depends on who is where. Why do you ask?”

“If Captain Jackson isn’t on the bridge, who sits in the chair?”

“No one. No one else sits in the chair,” Rianya assured her. A robotic vacuum entering the lab interrupted their titters. The women stepped around it as it neared their feet.

“Not even you?” the woman said with mock incredulity.

“Especially not me!” Rianya reflected for a moment. “Maybe Zalara.”

Symbiosis Chapter 10

  With vigilance Lee thrust the accelerator to the full length of its reach and the ship began to pull away from the singularity ever so slowly, shuddering against the gravity of the invisible maw. Jackson felt for a moment that the chairs might be anchored in gelatin instead of metal.

  “Captain,” Quixote called over the intercom. “Don’t over kill or we’ll be right back in another one!”

  “Steady as we go, Lee, watch your speed, just enough to get out,” said Jackson. His heart almost pounded right out of his chest; the ship quaked harder.

  “Logs away sir,” Watson called as they pulled away from the event horizon.

  “Watch your speed, Chen,” Rougeau shouted.

  “Watch your coordinates, Jean,” he shouted back keeping his eyes on his instruments.

  “Aft view,” Jackson said to Watson. The rear of the ship appeared on the central monitor to the captain’s left. Stars, a flat black disk, and the stern fins appeared. The black spot began to shrink, the star field grew larger, the fins were exactly where they were supposed to be.

  “We’re out of it, Captain!” Mr. Lee cried, backing the power down to FTL10. All the crews shoulders dropped and the tension palpably plummeted. Jackson felt his body began to float and suddenly he sat back in the chair as the gravity ring reengaged.

  “Everyone alright?” Just a few murmurs and some nodding head replied. “Put us back on course to Eta Cass, Ensign,” the captain told Rougeau. “Lieutenant, keep us at FTL10 until we get whatever went wrong straightened out.” Jackson took a deep breath, held it, and let it out loudly. He shoved one hand through his hair wondering how much of it had just gone gray in the last two minutes. He slid out of his chair and felt gravity had returned solidly with the deceleration, stood up, and shook out his frozen muscles. “Good work, everyone.” He left the bridge and made his way to engineering without stopping. He came to the submarine door again and stepped through.

  “Captain.” Quixote walked up to Jackson before he’d ventured any deeper into the engine room.

  “I thought you said we could go to full speed? Change your mind?”

  “Not that quickly, Captain, I’m sorry I wasn’t more succinct when I spoke. I take responsibility for the accident.”

  “We wouldn’t be here talking about it if the bridge boys had been asleep. At least there were no casualties,” except, perhaps, my humor. “We managed to get out of it and we’re back on course. But I want to know what the hell went so wrong.”

  “Speed should be increased incrementally. A jump from FTL10 to ten power fifth was just too much energy at one time going into my collider. The imbalance was reflected in the gravity of Bernard’s Star.”

  “Do you have a recommendation?”

  “Of course, sir. We have this technology on Draconian ships. Protocol is to increase speed one power every, hmm, about six or seven Earth minutes. It gives time for the reaction to remix and refocus.”

  “I think perhaps you could have documented this for our helm crew?”

  “Of course, sir. After I heard you were going to the Stephen Hawking I put in for a transfer to your crew. I simply wasn’t expecting to be assigned to a tenth power vessel last minute and preparing documentation of the protocol for bridge personnel simply didn’t occur to me.”

  “Do what you need to do, Quixote, and let me know when we’re ready to go to ten P two.” Jackson placed one hand on the reptilian’s shoulder and paused. “It’s just a sign, we’re all pretty excited. Just a reminder to slow down a little.”

~~~

  “That was a hell of a Day Two,” Tom said to Rianya over the dinner table in their quarters. Zalara could feed herself, if not with the most graceful of techniques. Knives were still a contrivance for her future.

  “I don’t think the rest of the crew knew what was going on. Serious bumps, and that word you like to use, terb…”

  “Turbulence.”

  “Yes, terb oo lence.”

  “We’re on our way, finally.”

  “Did you tell the rest of the crew we were almost killed?”

  “No, and you don’t need to tell them either. Some things are best left unsaid.”

  “People will hear about it.”

  “Yes, but a ship wide announcement isn’t necessary.”

  “When do we get to Eta Cass?” Rianya asked.

  “We were killed?” a wee voice joined in.

  “No, Pet, all the bumping around this morning, the ship didn’t want to go as fast as we asked her.” He turned back to Rianya. “About fourteen weeks, three months. It should be smooth sailing from here.”

  “Are we stopping along the way?”

  “There’s no plan to, why?” Tom asked, jabbing a chunk of meat with his fork.

  “Dr. Ferris and I were hoping to study some life forms before we get to Eta Cass.”

  “Oh, Dr. Ferris, do you like her? I think she’s a good fit for the mission.”

  “She knows a lot, more than the Dr. Adams.”

  “He’s a medical doctor, not a field biologist. You’ll learn things from both of them.” Rianya didn’t respond to Tom’s comment. He looked up from his dinner and caught her eyes. “What’s bothering you?” He reached across the table to cover her small four fingered hand with his.

  “How well do we know some of the people on the ship? We had no idea the Stephen Hawking’s doctor could be so evil and we knew him for years.” Tom was silent a moment before crafting an answer.

  “No one expects a doctor to be a kidnapper,” he said as casually as possible. He kept half an eye glued on Zalara to make sure she didn’t understand what he was talking about. “He had nothing in his life to stand between him and the money. He certainly had no personality to speak of. Are you getting a strange feeling from someone?”

  “No.”

  “The doctor isn’t xenophobic is she?”

  “Oh, no, not in the least. She asks a lot of questions about my physiology. I get the feeling I’m being studied.”

  “If it’s really uncomfortable--”

  “No, Tom, it’s fine. Just different. I can manage different.” She smiled and tipped her head down a little. Tom loved when she looked up at him, her curious asterisk pupils black and well defined against the vivid plum color of her irises. Her long lashes and dark rimmed eyes needed nothing to enhance their beauty. He stole a glance at their daughter who only seemed interested in spearing food on her plate with a small fork.

  “Has she connected with the quartermaster’s daughter?”

  "We met her today, her name is Honey, I think it’s longer but she said they call her Honey.”

  “Huntington,” Tom said. “I suppose ‘Honey’ is better.”

    “I like Honey. She call me Lara,” the girl piped up.

  “Did you make a new friend today?” Tom asked her. She shook her head. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “She and her mother are still getting settled. Cat said she’s been very busy,” Rianya said.

  “I imagine that’s true.”

  “I’ll get her involved tomorrow. It’s not like they have school to attend.”

  “Try the gym. There’s a few things in there they could be playing on, the trampoline, some of the visual and tactile games.” He finished the last bit of chicken and pushed his plate away a few centimeters. Rianya collected the dishes, putting them in a closet where they would be picked up from the outside and washed in the galley.

  “Let’s get ready for bed,” she said to the girl, and they wandered away for a bath and a story. Tom took a glass of water to the central room and settled onto the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions and leaning his head back.

  “Computer: music, file name Sinatra Two,” he said to the air, and a few moments later the old crooning sounds of American artist Frank Sinatra filled the room. The next thing he knew Rianya had sat down with him and put her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you didn’t leave us behind,” she said quietly. “Wherever you go, that’s where we’ll be.” Tom put his hand on her cheek and leaned over to kiss her, softly. And it suddenly occurred to him that this was the first quiet moment they’d had in almost a week. Her hair smelled like the citrus soap and was as soft as cashmere.

  “Anywhere I go? I was thinking of going to bed.” She smiled. “I didn’t want to even consider going alone. I want you here, you keep me anchored. But I have to consider the danger that I put you and Zalara in by being here.”

  “How could I live on Earth without you?”

  “Someone could take you and Zalara back to Kinnae.”

  “Not Zalara. I not welcome with her.” They went together to their bedroom. Rianya sat on the edge of the bed, slid off her house shoes and sighed.

  “We’re going there you know.” Tom hung up his jacket and pulled off his shirt, then put it in the laundry chute. “To pick up the science team, remember?”

  “You’ll be with me.”

  “I hope the science community won’t have had the same experience we had. I know it was rough, but I bet your people will have forgotten all about Zalara after five years.”

  “No, she been put in shaman book.”

  “Rianya, don’t get nervous about it,” he said, cupping her chin in his hand as he passed by on his way to the lavatory.

  “Human hard to speak when brain think other thing.”

  “It’s just I know--”

  “You make fun my human?”

  “No! But I know when you’re anxious or nervous, and not by watching you, by listening to you.” He left the room and ran through his routine quickly in anticipation of affection.

  “My people almost kill her.”

  “They didn’t, and they won’t. I’ll be there, Quixote will be there, Scott and Chen and Stu. She needs to meet her fore parents, the other half of who she is. So relax,” Tom said. He tapped a button and the lights dimmed but for the soft glow of the large disc on the ceiling. Rianya turned the covers down and slipped her long dress off her shoulders, her hips, and then onto the floor.

  “You are as beautiful now as the day I met you.” She looked at him sideways with a grin and climbed into bed. Tom joined her quickly, pressing up against her warm, silky skin and holding her as close as possible, her head on his chest, his chin in her hair.

  “You say that to all the girls,” she said. He knew she didn’t mean it in the least, but she’d never been able to simply say thank you to a compliment.

  “I would do no such thing,” he kidded back, kissing the top of her head and shifting her closer to his body, feeling the vaguely telepathic bond they shared. As her worries faded he cherished her trust in his being her quiet refuge as well as her pleasurable storm.

Symbiosis Chapter 9

“Tom?” Rianya called. She looked around their quarters and didn’t see any activity that might suggest he was there. All was quiet, no moving pictures on the monitors or sounds coming from the music speakers, and no water running in the lavatory. “Go see if Papa’s in there,” she told Zalara, pointing to the kitchen area. While the girl bounced off, Rianya stepped into the bedroom and couldn’t help but smile at the splayed out man on the bed. He didn’t look at all as if he’d gone there intentionally but instead had collapsed, or drank a liter of barley ale without a meal.

Zalara skipped in with her hair bouncing behind her. Rianya quickly picked her up and took her in the great room where she could put together some puzzles and draw pictures. The last few days had been almost chaos with travel, changing plans, new environment, the journalists, new people to meet and learn their names, and even a new friend for Zalara. Her brain swam around and didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on one thing.

She brought a glass of juice for Zalara and her own cup of tea and sat down with the child to see how the puzzle was coming along.

“I think that piece might fit there,” she said and pushed it in one direction.

“Why?”

“It’s straight on this edge. That means it must go on the outside.” The girl’s face brightened and she quickly slapped the piece on the table locking it with another. A moment later she began sorting through the pieces and pulling out all of them with a straight edge on one side. Rianya watched her focus and could almost see the wheels and gears turning.

Tom had plenty of electronic technological things for her to play with, but Rianya wasn’t on board with all of them. She liked to feel, touch, manipulate things in her hands and feel their characteristics, manifest them in three dimensions. The electronic things did all the playing by themselves and the children just watched on, but with soft dolls and hard puzzles the imagination had to be engaged. She was sure that was a good thing, equal to all the math things Tom showed her about counting and figuring things out.

“I’m going to check on Papa. I want you to stay here in the cabin and work your puzzle. Don’t leave our quarters. I will worry about where you are if you leave.”

“I not leave, Mama.”

Rianya touched the focused girl briefly and took herself to the bedroom as well. Shoes off, she climbed on the accommodating mattress gently and also lay down, pushing herself up against Tom just enough to make contact without waking him. She’d always needed more sleep than the humans, more now with the artificial human daylight cycle. A naturally longer day on her world translated to a nine or ten hour need for sleep, not seven or eight as most everyone else on the ship, with the single exception of Quixote. He never seemed to sleep. She yawned and her brain went quietly into regeneration.

Bleep. Bleep.

Rianya wasn’t sure where she was but it was comfortable, warm, and only the faintest light from above gave her any clue.

Chirp, chirp.

She lifted her head and found Zalara mushed between her and Tom, asleep, and Tom still asleep and making that awful snore sound. How was I even asleep with that going on? She reached for the intercom to stop the chime.

“Jackson’s quarters,” she answered as Tom had instructed her to do. She tried to stifle a yawn but it escaped anyway.

“Rianya, is the captain there?” She wasn’t sure who was asking, or what time it was.

“Well, yes.”

“Is everything alright?” She now recognized Dr. Adams’ voice. It’s unusual cadence and low pitch belonged to no one else aboard. Tom told her Adams was from a place called Boston and that was why his words sounded different.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“It’s 21:00 hours and no one’s seen him since lunch, that’s all.” Rianya shook her head suddenly to clear up the fog.

“It’s 21:00? Oh, I’ll get him up.”

“No, don’t do that if he’s resting. The crew has been asking and I drew the short straw.”

“The short straw?” Rianya was rubbed at her face as if a mask stopped the explanation from entering her head. Another yawn.

“Goodnight, Rianya.”

“Goodnight,” she said. The intercom shut off from the other end without any action on her part. She watched her small family sleeping in the dim light. Tom finally rolled to one side and the grating snoring ceased. That was her cue to spoon up and join them in the alternate consciousness.

~~~

“Good morning everybody,” Jackson said entering the bridge at 06:56. He carried his coffee in one hand a portable reader in the other. The three regular shift crew members had not come on duty just yet. Dr. Gregory sat at the navigation con and Ayn Byrd at the helm. Communications didn’t require an operator overnight.

“You’re up early,” Scott said.

“You’re up late,” Tom replied back. “Who put you on the duty roster for third shift?”

“I put myself on. I’m updating some charts in the data bank. I wanted to be sure they didn’t overwrite existing maps.”

“Mr. May, I never know whether to say good morning or good night to you.” The man smiled.

“It’s morning, but I do call breakfast my dinner.”

“I need to take a look at the roster,” Jackson muttered. Chen Lee and Jean Rougeau arrived on the bridge together stepping out of the tube at precisely 06:59.

“Good morning, Captain,” Lee said quickly; Rougeau was half a beat behind.

“We’re going into hyper sonic space this morning if Quixote has kept his promise. Please take your stations, gentlemen.”

“We’re past Jupiter’s orbit, I think you can take her out without anything in the way,” Scott said. He stood and pressed a few icons on the panel before Jean took his place. Jay did the same and updated Chen on their current speed and heading before excusing himself, leaving with Dr. Gregory.

“I trust you boys have both had your breakfast. Is Mr. Watson coming to work today?”

“He’s right behind us, sir,” Mr. Rougeau said quickly, but the tube didn’t seem to be bringing any passengers to the bridge at the moment. Jackson nodded and drank some of the morning ambition in his cup. Comfortably seated he set the cup down and picked up the reader and looked at the specs on the Maria Mitchell. He flipped to the section about the engines and propulsion and began to scour the data while he waited for Stuart Watson to join them.

The tube door slid open and Watson jumped out, stopping quickly then walking briskly to his post. “Good morning, Captain,” he said as he hurried past and sat down quickly at the communication dash. Jackson glanced at the chronometer beside him displaying 07:01. He raised a single eyebrow less than half a centimeter and looked back at his portable.

“Gentlemen, where are we, and are we ready to go to FTL4, or do you need a few minutes to finish your coffee?”

“Ready, Captain,” Ensign Rougeau said without hesitation.

“Ready, Sir, at your command,” Lieutenant Lee said.

“Mr. Watson, please transmit our coordinates to the SA and let me know when we have permission to deploy,” the captain said without waiting for a reply. Jackson tapped a button on the side table of his chair.

“Engineering.”

“Good morning, Quixote, status on the FTL?”

“As promised, we are ready for an FTL zero test whenever you are, sir.”

“Captain, we’re six AUs from Sol and coordinates for Eta Cass are locked in.”

“Thank you, Rougeau. Watson?”

“No return com, Sir, stand by.”

“Lee, prepare for FTL zero for twenty five AUs on course to Eta Cass.” He watched as the three young men took the focus on their job with all seriousness.

“Maria Mitchell, this is Science Administration North America. We’ve received your status and you are approved to proceed. Good luck, and Godspeed.”

Captain Jackson broke into his first smile of the morning and leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. He tapped a little bell icon on his side table screen. The boatswain signal whistled throughout the ship.

“Attention, crew this is the captain. Secure all stations and prepare for Faster Than Light 1 X  trial.” He looked up and out the window dome. “Lieutenant Lee, employ the FTL drive.” Jackson held his breath.

“Aye, sir.” Lee took the accelerator in one hand and pressed some buttons with the other.  Maria Mitchell hesitated for a half a second. Jackson took a hold of the side arms on his chair and before the inertia stabilizers kicked in the ship shot out under them like a sub sonic bullet; every person plunged into their seat, pinned momentarily as if gravity had gripped them by a tether and suddenly let go like a slingshot.

A few moments later the speed began to multiply exponentially until they reached the speed of light. Outside the view began to distort slightly, yet it was still a four year journey to the closest star.

“FTL at one times C squared, Captain, 300,000 kilometers per second.”

“Thank you Mr. Lee,” Jackson said, and tapped an intercom button. “Quixote, what’s your status down there?”

“Easy sailing, Captain, we’re just humming along.  Bring us up to FTL10, no troubles.”

“You heard the man, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir, FTL10 coming up,” Mr. Lee said to the captain. At ten times light speed, the fastest the former science ships could travel, it would still take nearly five months to get to the nearest star. The ship no longer lurched ahead but simply accelerated smoothly, as the older ships had when going nine to ten times light speed. “Three million K per second, Captain.”

Jackson stood up and took a few steps toward the human fishbowl of a bow two decks high and as wide as the ship. The lights of stars, but not other galaxies, began to flatten slightly from circular points of light into oval ones. They still had passed none of them.

“Chen, this is as fast as we used to go,” Jackson said softly. He gazed out the window and turned back to his bridge crew, glancing at each man in turn. He couldn’t seem to keep a straight face, but instead clamped his teeth tight to avoid breaking out in a goofy smile.

“Are we ready to go ten power seven?”

“That’s…” Mr. Watson said and closed his eyes to think.

“Ten million kilometers per second,” Jackson answered for him. “Approximately.” He left the fishbowl and returned to his command chair. “I’m going to be honest with you,” he said solemnly. The men turned to him while they screamed along at ten times light speed. “None of us have ever gone this fast, ever. I’m pretty excited, and I want to remind you we’re going to make history in a few minutes.”

Captain Thomas Jackson knew better than to jump from ten times the speed of light to C squared 7. Three million to ten million was a colossal leap in power. No one said anything but smiles began to cast around to each other on the bridge. Jackson tapped the intercom.

“This is the captain. Everyone take a look at the chronometer and remember where you are at this exact moment. Humans are about to go faster than we ever have in our million year history. Enjoy the ride,” he said and bonked the button with his fist.

“Lieutenant Lee, C square two sounds good. Let’s make sure Quixote has the formula right down there.”

“I double checked the figures, and all seem to be spot on.”

“Good to hear, Mr. Lee. Go to FTL power two then.”

“Aye, sir.” The pilot’s hand gripped the black rubber accelerator handle and he slid it forward just a millimeter, and then another. The increase in speed wasn’t even noticeable. “We’re at C squared power two,” Lee said aloud. The captain looked at his bridge crew, then to Mr. Lee.

“Let’s go to power five.” Lee pushed the lever to C squared five.

“Fifth power light speed, Sir,” Lee confirmed.

“Captain we’re being drawn in!” Jean shouted. A singularity materialized in front of their eyes. Surrounded by countless stars, a flat black circle as large as Jupiter blocked their view of everything beyond it. What looked like comet sized rainbow leaves and feathers surrounded the gravity hole in a swirling kaleidoscope marking the event horizon of oblivion. The Maria Mitchell and her crew had just seconds to get away before it would be their grave.

“Reverse course!” Jackson barked. “One-eighty!”

“That’s not in our database!” Jean said, his eyes and hands flying over the control panel searching for the right buttons and icons to engage.

“We can’t stop!” Mr. Lee yelled, firing thrusters and rocket brakes.”

“Ninety degrees positive Z!” Jackson shouted. Lee complied. Without hesitation the ship skyrocketed upwards 90 degrees like a fighter jet on steroids. Tom gripped the arms of his chair as the sudden G force threw everyone deep into their seats.

“I’m losing control!” Lee cried. The Maria Mitchell shuddered as if it were flying into an asteroid field at light speed. Artificial gravity stopped functioning but everyone was inertially stuck in their seats and kept focused at their stations.

“Reverse course plotted and engaged, Sir! Six Gs!” the navigator shouted.

“Watson, message to Science Administration, ships logs and status, go!” Jackson squawked.

“Captain, what are you doing up there?” came Quixote’s voice over the intercom. “You’re burning up my reactor!”

“Singularity 100 AU’s ahead. Give us full power, Quixote, all the way!”

“Where did it come from?!”

“Power now or we’re never finding out!”

“I’ve got power, Captain,” Lee said.

“Go, Lee! Go!”

  

Symbiosis Chapter 8

We especially need imagination in science.
It is not all mathematics, nor all logic,
 but is somewhat beauty and poetry.

Maria Mitchell,      1818-1889

   Cameras on tripods crowded the space port viewing platforms attended by humans, a few hundred humans, mostly in civilian attire, some in uniforms. Launch day for a new space craft still held some fascination for Earthlings, generally scientists and astronauts and maybe their families. The Jacksons had stayed aboard, as did all but the two Security Forces that Admiral Wallace had personally assigned to the ship.

   Nevertheless, the World Media dutifully covered the event since the Science Ship Maria Mitchell was a new, supra sonic model with a relatively large science crew. Jackson had earned a reputation as a bit of a celebrity since he returned, essentially, with the cure for the Spliced Gene Malarial Vaccine pandemic.

   Three journalists and a single camera operator stood on the bridge facing Jackson, his back to the stars, all asking questions and vying for a better camera angle or brighter light than each other. Each time one of them ventured too close and looked down they all panicked like birds to get back on the opaque half of the deck.

   “From what we understand,” Jackson said, “the fifth planet in the Eta Cassiopeia star system is suffering from antibiotic resistance on a planet wide scale. The plague is serious and threatens their viability as the only humanoid species in that star system.”

   “Captain Jackson, what medicine are you taking that will cure their disease?”

 “We’re taking a large variety of successful compounds we use on Earth, and nano-abiotics for delivery, in hopes that one or two will be effective. We aren’t certain of the actual disease that they are battling.”

“Is this a long mission?”

“We expect to return in approximately one year.” Jackson looked past the journalism party at his stoic crew who were artificially preoccupied to avoid attracting a reporter to their station. Jackson took a step backward, closer to the bow, luring the reporters onto the transparent part of the deck a centimeter at a time.

“Is there a risk of contamination of their plague to human beings?”

“You should probably ask Dr. Ferris, here, about specific biological details,” Jackson said and handed the process off to Mission Specialist Doctor Jane Ferris, who’d been standing behind the captain, eager to chat up the reporters and unwittingly save Jackson from his agony. Dr. Ferris led them away towards the tactical astrometric alcove, leaving the captain and officers with some breathing room. Jackson stepped back another half meter into the fishbowl to make sure they weren’t coming back for him.

  After a moment he realized they would be leaving shortly and advanced out of the glass room and stepped to his post. Lee and Rougeau followed him with their eyes as he passed their stations. When Jackson finally sat down, he realized that for the first time his entire primary bridge crew was all male. That hadn’t been intentional. He suddenly expected a fraternity atmosphere that wouldn’t have been tolerated when Bala was at one of those stations.

  Which bothered him more than he first realized. As much as he’d always considered the protocols on his bridge as cordial and respectful, had he been less of himself in the company of female officers? People often said the genders were equal of mind and ability, and he agreed. In fact, often the females didn’t become preoccupied with the same issues as the males; sexual jokes, bragging, innuendos, none of it was appropriate, but he could almost feel the preponderance of testosterone and now hoped he wouldn’t regret his choices. Why he should even consider his officers’ gender when looking at qualifications bothered him as well. Male and female would always have some differences.

  While he waited for the “Go” from Admiral Wallace, he picked up a portable to review the manifest and spent several minutes checking and rechecking that his choices and alternates, plus the assignments from the admirals and colonels, were what he expected. This maiden launch would be smooth and no stopping at Luna or Mars to let off any stowaways or make changes in personnel.

Science Ship Maria Mitchell Crew Manifest 29 souls aboard:

~       Captain Thomas K. Jackson, Mission/Ship Commander

~       Lieutenant Chen Lee, Helm, Information Tech Specialist

~       Lieutenant Jay May, Navigation, Helm, Communications

~       Ensign Jean Rougeau, Navigation, Helm

~       CPO Stuart Watson, Information Tech, Communication Systems

~       Sergeant Zoe H. Stone, Yeoman/Quartermaster

~       Commander Quixote Kee, First Officer, Chief Engineer

~       Scott B. Gregory, Dr. of Astrophysics, Mission Specialist

~       Jane G. Ferris, Dr. of Biology, Mission Specialist

~       Rianya Jackson, Apprentice Life Science, Mission Specialist

~       Commander Phillip Adams, MD, Chief Medical Officer

~       Ensign Wilson Mills, PA, Chief of Nursing, Medic

~       Rosalind Henderson, RN, Medic

~       Kym Byrd, Engineer’s Mate

~       Ron Painter, Engineer’s Mate

~       John Chin, Engineer’s Mate

~       Ensign Catherine York, Security Chief, Armory

~       Clayton Wagner, Security Force

~       Dean Bowen, Security Force

~       Shellie Barone, Security Force

~       Bailey Campbell, Chef

~       Jules Graham, Cook, Steward

~       Simon Harchett, Steward, Hydroponics

~       Ann Wallace, Housekeeping Lead

~       Keith Campbell, Maintenance Lead

~       Andrew Baumann, Maintenance, Housekeeping

~       Chuck Harris, Maintenance, Housekeeping

~       Zalara Jackson, student (age 4)

~       Huntington York, student (age 6)

  One of the reasons Jackson chose York was her familial status, although he didn’t want to admit it entirely; Zalara would have someone her own age on board. Of course Ms. York was entirely well qualified and experienced. Jackson found himself questioning his ethics. Had he allowed personal gain to influence his final selection or was his reason legitimate when all else was equal? As the captain was it his prerogative to place his interests, and therefore the ultimate interest of the crew and the mission, into the decision making process?

  “Final call to all remaining on board, please proceed to the airlock and hatch to disembark.”

Jackson came out of his trance and realized it was almost time to launch. He listened to the ceremony happening in the protective shell of the space dock where Admiral Wallace took pride in the ship, credit for the mission, and didn’t mention a sole’s name on board.

  “Countdown to launch in one minute,” Mr. Watson announced to the bridge.

  “Mr. Rougeau, is our course laid in?”

  “Course laid in to Eta Cassiopeia system, sir.”

  “Mr. Lee, clear all moorings,” Jackson said calmly. He tapped a button to open the intercom to deck five.

  “Quixote, are engines online and thrusters ready for intra solar system travel?”

  “Aye, sir, thrusters at station keeping and reactor is online. Don’t go to full speed for a few hours, Captain. We have to shakedown this system back here.”

  “Understood. Mr. Watson?”

  “All systems go for launch, countdown at three, two, one, zero.”

  “Mr. Lee, employ thrusters at twenty five percent and take her out.”

  “Aye, sir, employing thrusters, one quarter speed.”

With a vague lurch the maiden voyage of the Science Ship Maria Mitchell had begun. On the speakers a cheer came across from the space dock platform and Jackson watched the people waving as the ship pulled away from the silver rib cage of its origin. She picked up speed easily, slipped out of her cocoon, and into the vacuum of space.

  “We’ve cleared space dock,” Mr. Lee announced.

  “Good work. I’ll leave you and Mr. Rougeau to your respective posts; I have a date in engineering. Mr. Watson, let Quixote know I’m on my way.”

  Jackson stood and stepped into the fishbowl-bow to look out at the Earth as they left orbit. It shrank remarkably fast for an object that filled the sky to a sphere that could be seen in its entirety. At this speed, however, it would take a full day just to reach the orbit of the moon.

  “Let’s go to a hundred percent Intra Solar System power levels and be on our way, Mr. Lee.”

  “Aye, sir, one hundred percent ISS.” Jackson left the bridge just as the engines quadrupled their speed. The inertia stabilizers stalled briefly knocking him aft against the wall of the tube. Unharmed Tom chuckled at his fortune to be aboard, in command, and asked the transport tube for passage to the fifth deck to visit the engines.

  “Quixote,” the captain said while crawling through a submarine style bulkhead door.

  “Captain, welcome.”

  Jackson straightened his back and turned to admire what appeared to be a miniature Hadron Collider, or an enormous MRI machine, quietly humming in the belly of his ship. Along the walls an incalculable number of green, red, yellow, and blue signal lights glowed and blinked, randomly to Jackson’s eyes. Dozens of readouts on transparencies displayed constantly changing numbers and an engineer stood fixed in front of the most active monitor.

  “Sir, let me introduce you to my first mates, Electrical Technician Kym Byrd, and Mechanical Technician Ron Painter. John Chin, my Propulsion Technician is somewhere in the belly of this beast.” Jackson had met everyone but another introduction to people he didn’t know was fine with him.

  “It’s a pleasure, Captain,” Ms. Byrd said quickly turning briefly from her post. Mr. Painter stepped up quickly.

  “Captain Jackson,” the man addressed him.

  “Congratulations, crewmen, you’ll be working with one of the best engineers in Science Administration. I’m lucky to have him and you would do yourselves a favor to remember that.”

  “Aye, sir,” the two said almost in unison.

  “So give me details about this Slip Electro Magnetic Ion technology,” Jackson asked of Quixote.   “I’m not a hundred percent up to speed on it. And, what’s our readiness score?”

  “Do you really want the engineer jargon, sir? I think you know all you need to know, and I want to run a few more simulations, Captain. This has only been tested in very limited circumstances. I’ll log it as a readiness six of ten at thirty minutes post launch.”

  “Another time then, that’s fine. Time to full speed?”

  “Eighteen to twenty hours, Captain.”

  “You mean, tomorrow?”

  “It takes time to get the reactor chamber ready, and then the calculations are fed into the quantum computer, which is rather quick, but then we have to simulate--”

  “Never mind, Quixote, you know your job, I’ll take your word for it. See you tomorrow then.”

Captain Jackson was thoroughly satisfied that Quixote knew his job and decided to touch base with him about the engine details when they weren’t at such a critical moment. He peered inside the gym and found the room empty, as it should be. He took the steps up a flight to Deck III to check on his doctors and mission specialists, and stop at the galley to grab some coffee and sniff the air for dinner clues.

  “Doc! How’s everything in our infirmary?”

  “Jack, come on in,” the doctor called from behind a wall. Jackson sauntered in, coffee in one hand and the other stuffed in his pants pocket. The treatment room was brightly lit which made an ideal environment for Dr. Adams’ potted medicinals.  At least a dozen different plants crowded the azure counter tops but plenty of room to doctor people.

  “Just came by to see if you need anything.”

 “Not a thing. I have my plants and chemicals, plenty of room, two nurses and Dr. Ferris. All I need is a bottle of Draconian Tequila and the entire pharmacy is complete.” The senior doctor’s sprightly step belied his eight decades of living. The depth of his knowledge, however, was evidence of his age and years well spent.

  “I do wish I could convince you to stop pouring all that sugar in your cup of fuel,” Adams said. His eyes focused on Jackson’s omnipresent coffee mug.

  “It wouldn’t be worth drinking without sugar. Glad everything is good, I have a few more rounds to make. Join us for dinner tonight?”

  “See you at nineteen thirty.”