“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.
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