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"Everywhere but on Psychon, I'll be an alien!" -Maya
"We're all aliens, until we get to know one another." -John Koenig
M-343 DAB 1600-1700: Eagle Flight
As the fragments of the destroyed planet of Psychon fanned out in all directions into space, a few survivors continued their flight away, in a small ship. There were four Terrans and a Psychon: the former with two less of their own returning from the planet; the latter devastated at the loss of her world, her father, and so much of her understanding of her father. They were now five Alphans.
Maya, Daughter of Mentor, had nothing of her former life but her memories, the clothes she was wearing, and some jewelry, one piece of which contained a few tiny fragments of Psychon technology. Commander John Koenig and Doctor Helena Russell had assured Maya she would have a new life on Moonbase Alpha, that she, though alien, would have a place there. Though she was not sure it would be as simple as that, it was enough to somewhat soothe her shattered self for now, to allow her to marshal some quiet strength, or at least to find a small bit of outward calm even as she still reeled inside.
Space around Eagle 4 reeled too. The initial destruction had created massive communication interference between the Eagle and Alpha, and had prevented Alpha from immediately finding the Eagle to aim the more powerful antenna the Eagle's way. Then they had found the Eagle's position, enough to point the directional communication dish directly towards the Eagle, and raise it. Brief contact did happen, almost entirely of a personal nature between Bill and Annette Fraser, husband and wife. Then contact had ceased as small, charged chunks of Psychon, traveling faster than the Eagle, caught up with it, forcing Captain Alan Carter and his co-pilot Bill Fraser to cut the main engines, turn the Eagle around, and deploy its forward defense screen, while they intensified scanners to watch for larger debris.
"We were still in the extended acceleration phase," Carter soon said. "Recalculate course."
Fraser ran the calculations, which took a little time, and replied, "If we're in this for awhile, it will lengthen our remaining flight to 14 hours from this point. Still well under the limit. That's if we don't have to spend a lot of time or fuel dodging larger pieces."
Fortunately, most of the small debris impacted the limited shield, and they avoided larger chunks by detecting them with scanners and using the small thrusters. A few of the tiniest particles, broken up by chunks hitting other chunks and creating directions of movement other than straight out from the former world, did start impacting the reinforced outer hull.
Psychon could cost these four Alphans their lives after all, Maya thought with helpless horror. They did nothing, suffered through horrors, escaped, yet could still die from--
"Maya, we'll be fine," Helena said. Helena saw Maya try to smile but fail, so Helena was going to step over to her, already realizing the Psychon woman seemed to take comfort in contact. Then, however, John called Helena's name, from the pilot module, so she stepped forward. To her relief, she found out there was nothing big detected -- yet -- and that they'd apparently still make it back to Alpha. Then she found out two had died on the Moonbase, in addition to the two Alphans on Psychon.
"Four total," she said quietly. "Any details? Other casualties?"
"No details," Alan said. "They barely started a status report when the interference began. We lost communication even before the debris reached us, like it was charged, but then the system itself went dead. I think we lost the communications array."
In the pod, Maya reeled as the meteoroids, which had once been part of her world, continued to hit the alien ship, in even higher frequency. She fled that thought, but into an even darker series. She had failed to find out what her father was doing to the various alien visitors who had suffered "rapport" with Psyche. Had failed until Commander Koenig had finally managed to break through to her and drive her to look for herself. If she had known before, years before.... If she had followed those little nagging questions better.... If she could have stopped him, before his descent into madness had destroyed him and so many other lives. If she had.... Her mind finally retreated from -- fled -- the pain and burning humiliation and shame. She could not face it, process it -- not now, not yet. She was left feeling helplessly dazed and confused.
John returned to the passenger module, wondering why his arm was starting to throb, but forgetting about it when he took in Maya's miserable expression as the pings against the hull continued. She looked up at him with a guilty expression again.
"Maya, we'll be fine," he said, stepping towards her more, Helena behind him. "Please don't blame yourself." It was all John could think of saying. Maya gave a faint flickering of gratitude at his words, the ever-so-slightest attempt at a smile, and then just put her hands in her hair, by her ears, lowering her head halfway to her knees, a very recognizable gesture of trying to shut out the sounds, and just wanting to be left alone for now. Helena drew John away from Maya, to give her some space. Helena's touch made his forearm throb in pain again.
Helena whispered, "She's in shock, John, and needs to gather her own strength just as desperately as she needs us to help provide her with new support."
John nodded, distracted by Helena's words. It seemed Maya was a woman yet had never been far-separated from her father. The two of them, notwithstanding the almost mindless guards (whatever they had actually been), had been alone for some length of time -- neither Alphan knew how long -- and he obviously had been isolating her even further in another way, from his increasingly deranged work. The last was probably a blessing in some ways, though it had ultimately torn them apart.
"Speaking of shock," he said quietly, lifting his arm, which was hurting more and more. Some blood dripped from the sleeve, and both noticed a few drops on the floor.
"John! Oh, get that jacket off." It did not take long to find a pair of small but deep puncture wounds on his forearm, near his wrist, neither bleeding much, but one a little more than the other. "What did this to you?" she demanded.
How will I explain this one? John thought, realizing exactly what -- who -- had caused the wounds.
Both, at the same moment, noticed Maya staring at them. Looking over, they saw an open-mouthed expression of horror on her face, turning quickly to guilt.
"I am so sorry, Commander."
Koenig quickly started some explanation, while trying to figure out how to introduce the rest. "Mentor was trapped behind a wall of fire, Maya was trying to throw herself into it to get to him, I was trying to hold her back, and she was fighting me."
"Oh.... But with what?" Helena asked, wanting to know the nature of the wound, as she hurriedly retrieved her medkit.
Koenig paused, wondering how to frame it, but Maya jumped in.
"My claws," she said, turning her eyes down.
Helena, returning with the kit, looked at the woman's fingers. "Fingernails couldn't have made punctures like these."
"I chose an inaccurate word. Talons."
Helena looked confused, then Maya too, the latter probably wondering why John had not quietly told Helena about Maya's ability while he had the chance a few minutes ago. Apparently, Maya did not have extra-acute hearing.
Talons? Helena thought, confused. She looked at Maya's face and then fingers, abruptly wondering if the Psychon's vaguely cat-like facial features somehow extended to retractable claws in her fingernails, but thinking that did not make much sense -- and Maya had just said 'talons' anyway. "I don't understand," Helena finally said as she got out the antiseptic, padded bandage, and sterile gauze. She left the field stitching box untouched, since the wounds were somewhat deep but not wide, best left open to drain and close on their own.
"I was a different form. A bird."
At first, it didn't click. The words made no sense. Then they sunk in -- sort of. Her head snapped over to look at the Psychon again. "What are you saying? That you can turn your physical form into a bird?"
"Yes, among other living beings."
Abruptly, a surge of adrenaline made her stomach knot, suddenly fully seeing again the alienness of the woman, feeling a brief surge of primal fear -- until Maya turned away, a look of shame returning to her features. Helena, though still stunned at this incredibly alien ability, relaxed a little. Maya was still Maya, the woman who had just helped them -- but more complicated now. She had once told herself, not long after Breakaway, to expect anything in space, to try to be as calm as possible about it. This was one of the cases that made it difficult.
"I am so sorry," Maya repeated. Whether she was referring to her ability or how she had used it, was not clear.
More than one form, she thought. Multi-form. Transformation. "You're a..." she paused, scrambling to assemble a word from other roots, "metamorph." She remembered Jarak and Rena, of course, but they had taken over Alphans at birth and death. They had not encountered an outright metamorph before. Yet Maya still looked almost human, yet not quite, so.... "This is your true form?"
"Yes, I can only transform for limited time'spans."
Finally, Helena caught herself, turning back to John to tend to his wounds.
John winced a little as Helena started cleaning the wound, but quickly suppressed any further reaction, since it only seemed to distress Maya further. Even though Helena had turned very professional, it probably wasn't helping her either.
"A bird, then? What kind?" Helena asked as she worked, plenty capable of multi-tasking, John knew -- not to mention well-practiced in her medical techniques.
"An utazeekor. I do not know if your people have a name for it."
"A hawk-like bird, maybe a kestrel," John supplied with an intentionally neutral tone.
"Doctor," Maya said in a near whisper. "I threw him against a wall too."
"What? As a bird? Or..."
"A sedotror."
"Like a large ape," Koenig again translated, adding, "Just some bruising, I think."
"And I may, as a dow'trapor, have bit him. I do not remember."
"Bit him?" Helena asked with a surprisingly calmer tone.
"German shepherd or something like it. But I don't think she did."
Helena looked at Maya, who wasn't looking at either of them anymore. Helena looked less startled with each admission, but more concerned about John, who said, "Don't blame her, Helena. She was just trying to get past me to save her father."
"If she had gotten past you?"
"She would have probably been caught in the collapse with Mentor."
"Well, that would have been tragic," Helena said firmly, something John was glad to hear her say after the strange revelations of the last couple of minutes.
Maya looked up at Helena briefly, not so much with a smile as an appreciative look, John thought, though it was hard to tell. Then Maya looked away again, and said, "And earlier, I was a... traskalador."
John sighed. He appreciated Maya's willingness to give full disclosure, but had hoped she would not bring that one up, though he had to admit he was curious why she had chosen it on her first meeting him.
John Koenig had already had enough of the psychotic planet. A green light rising from its surface to chase and swallow an Eagle. Mentor just bursting onto the Big Screen after Picard had declared it a dead planet. Mentor's invitation turning into a trap, with the alien's ship turning into a ball of light. Dragged into a volcano. Mentor still play-acting the consummate host. The horror scene in the caverns, complete with a zombie-like Torens and an agonized scream. An alien guard turned into rock. Mentor's image appearing. Picard vaporized. Yet another green light.
So when he was knocked unconscious and opened his fuzzy eyes to see a lioness watching him, and he regained his wits enough to decide it was real, he had backed up. Then with nowhere to go, he thought maybe Mentor was like some mad Roman emperor, and wondered what horrors he had in store for the rest, especially Helena -- and not wanting to know. Commander Koenig had rarely been one to think: now I've seen it all. Space had long since chased out what little of that remained. There was always yet one more surprise just around the corner. Still, it was quite startling and bewildering when the lioness was suddenly swallowed in fuzzy light which changed shape, stood up, and faded away to leave a young, attractive alien woman, obviously a Psychon, standing there and smiling like she had just played a practical joke on him.
What is it with this planet? Is nothing as it appears? He had approached her, but the open doorway had turned out to be an unpleasant force field. Sick of the "fun and games" of the Psychons, he immediately assumed Maya was nothing but more trouble. Fortunately, she had not been what she first appeared to be, either....
"Lioness," he translated for Helena.
"Oh my--"
"That wasn't from that fight, but when she... uh... was trying for a friendly greeting."
"Lioness? Friendly greeting?"
Maya was obviously able to interpret the statements and tones of both, for the look of horrified guilt came back to her face. "Oh, Commander, I apologize. It is a predator, isn't it?" At his simple nod, her head sagged. "I did not know. First my father's actions, then mine. We Psychons made horrible impressions. We did horrib--"
"No, you made a very powerfully-good impression in the end. You did something very selfless and right, as difficult as the end results were," He paused, to let that sink in, then asked, as gently as possible, "But why didn't you know about the lioness?" He wanted to understand Maya's poor introductory choice, and wanted Helena to understand too.
It was a lot of strange -- alien -- information to try absorbing. It was obvious to John that Maya had never tried explaining her perception of metamorphosis to a non-Psychon before. He got the basic idea that there were limits and compromises to even this incredible ability, and one of the compromises left her not necessarily fully understanding the animal in some ways. He also thought she was trying to say the more primitive the animal, the more limited she was in action; but he was not sure of this interpretation, and decided to leave further questions for another time. Maybe by then she'd come up with some more organized explanations.
Helena had paused just as long, then said, "Okay, I can understand that. Well not entirely, but enough to accept you meant no harm."
John had to smoother the urge to smile, for Helena had no way to know that this was exactly what Maya had said to John: 'I meant no harm.'
Maya looked relieved -- for a moment.
Maya had a new worry, however. "How are you going to tell your people?" She had seen the mixed reactions here, and these had seen her other actions directly. How would the rest react?
"I do not know yet," the Commander said.
"You have to tell them -- and that I am Maya, Daughter of Mentor, because they will wonder who I am." When she paused but got no response other than the Commander and the Doctor looking at each other, she added, very quietly, "Or do you mean for me to not use my... metamorphic ability?"
Both looked at her in a surprisingly sympathetic way, like she had just offered to stop using one of her arms -- which it abruptly felt like she had just offered to do, she realized with a pang. She liked the metamorphic ability, and she considered it part of her now, that with her father's help, learned to unlock the ability that was nascent in all Psychons but which not all learned to expand into full use.
"No, Maya, that is not what I mean," the Commander told her. "It could be helpful to all of us, and I imagine you feel it is part of you." She nodded, and he said, "Then please, keep in practice -- I assume it takes practice?"
"Practice. Yes, I am still in the process of exploring the ability and expanding my skills within it. Being able to turn into smaller creatures and larger creatures than now. Turning directly from one creature to another, without reverting, is something I have yet to master. Other aspects...."
"But...." he paused, obviously to think for a second, while the doctor continued tending to his wounds. "You did that -- one-to-another I mean."
"I was under great stress. It has otherwise eluded me so far, and will require more practice." She returned to her prior point. "What are you going to say?"
Finally, he said, "I think it would be wiser to wait, let them get to know you a little first."
"And then scare them?"
John thought again, but stuck to his first thought, telling her it would stay between the three of them, and that he would take responsibility for this decision. Maya looked at him dubiously. At least she is taking some interest in her future, he thought.
Finally, she nodded, and said quietly, "If you feel it is better. I am sorry to have been so... insistent. It is not my place anymore--"
"Maya, it is still your life; you have a right to give input. I will announce you, though, as Maya, Daughter of Mentor, and will explain what you did for us. We'll deal with that immediately." Yet as soon as he said it, he could see her nervous look. To hear it as a plan, to make it concrete, perhaps solidified her fears somewhat too. Yet, she swallowed and then nodded, ready to face it.
He returned to her metamorphic ability, and instructed that when he did announce it, to keep the fight between her and him quiet anyway. "We know why it happened, but there is no need to explain to everyone, other than to the officers and one or two more medical personnel, as part of the classified record of my injury."
She looked puzzled, maybe over 'classified' or the concept of limited access, but that expression passed, and she instead said, "I understand. And the traska-- the lioness?" Maya asked.
"I accept your explanation, but it is technical, that many may not understand. There really is no reason you have to mention it. You simply made a mistake."
"I made so many."
"Maya, I'm not blaming you. Do you understand what I am saying?"
For a moment, Maya looked at Helena, apparently to check if both Alphans were in agreement. Helena readily nodded, with a smile.
"I understand," she then said.
Helena finished wrapping John's arm in gauze, and securing it, and John gingerly put the jacket back on. Maya turned away, staring at a point in the wall ahead of her. She would still have to process some of the trauma herself.
M-343 DAB 1900-1920: Slow Stand-Down
Tony Verdeschi, both the Security Officer and the First Officer of Moonbase Alpha, still in temporary command while Commander Koenig returned from the destroyed world of Psychon, gave yet another order, this one not as unpleasant as several -- especially one -- he had given recently.
"Activate the shield."
Sandra Benes, Data Analyst, a junior officer, and technically second in command at the moment, relayed the order to Weapons Section. Alpha's shielding system, sometimes known as "defensive screens" or more formally as the Bergman Shield, developed chiefly by the late, venerable Professor Victor Bergman, deployed again.
In the very relative lull between the initial casualty/damage reports after the end of the battle, and the hard recovery work that would follow, Psychon was taking its final shot at Moonbase Alpha, this time in the fortunately pathetic form of increasingly widely-spaced meteoric debris, all of it scanning as relatively small pieces, from the smallest size detectable up to some twenty meters -- at least in the first wave. Some of the larger pieces would probably survive the impact somewhat intact. Without the shields, such could have done damage to Alpha's various hulls; but at least the meteorites would not cut through the shield as Mentor's attacks had.
Tony could picture the alien's face vividly, especially two features: those crazy, doubled, beaded eyebrows; and even more so the arrogant smirk which had grown on his face with each of his fortunately few appearances on Alpha's monitors. The latter itself was somewhat of a security breach, since no one in Command Center had piped his face all over the base. The sick Psychon had evidently found it amusing -- and of no difficulty at all -- to appear on screens everywhere, as if to tease his prey. Either because of his interference or someone else's recopying the Big Screen feed, everyone had seen Psychon's destruction too.
Since then, he quickly issued a partial stand-down, from Red Alert to Yellow Alert, and had announced that an Eagle was returning but had not made contact. The subsequent too-short communication session with Eagle 4 troubled Verdeschi. Their telescopic camera was now showing them the engine end of the Eagle, still sailing towards Alpha (on track for a much delayed return, however), but pointing the front end at where Psychon had been. Both he and Sandra had interpreted this as defensive against lighter, faster-traveling debris that was far out-expanding the central nebula. The lack of communication was a little more vexing, however; Sandra thinking maybe it had to do with debris too in some way, Tony subsequently wondering if debris had taken out the communication array, but still also being highly concerned it might be alien jamming. Who knows if there were any other Psychon installations elsewhere in the system, he had thought. No, he would keep the base on Yellow Alert status until they were somewhat more safely away, or John could provide his assessment of whether there was any further threat from more Psychons.
Sandra had continued contacting others on the base, until she found someone in science who hypothesized that the explosion of the planet could have heavily charged its remaining fragments, and that they had caught up with -- and been passing by -- the Eagle, were now between Alpha and Eagle 4, on their way to the base.
Thus Tony's order to raise the shield when they were directly detected as incoming debris -- wreckage of a wretched world, he thought absently in English, being very bilingual due to extensive time in both Italy and England. There was little at this distance, but it was still enough of an increased threat to warrant the extra power consumption temporarily.
The uncertainty of the hypothesis did not help Tony to relax much. Victor would have probably come up with something more quickly.
Tony had not worked directly with Victor much, but he respected what the wise professor had been to Alpha: a contact point for so many things scientific -- and philosophical. Tony had enough of a background in science himself to realize people like Archimedes, da Vinci, Einstein, Hawking, and Bergman were rare -- and that it was especially rare for someone to be brilliant or at least well versed in many specialties and not just one or a few. On top of everything else, Victor was a field scientist too, and even at his age, ready to take on some rough and tumble dangers, something most of Alpha's usually lab-bound scientists were not used to. Victor had been irreplaceable as Alpha's Science Advisor, and now they were forced to try to find a replacement.
Lew Picard had been the next closest thing to a general science integrator, and though he had some awfully big shoes to fill, had been calmly and quietly starting to fill out the role little by little, and was fairly quick to learn from other specialists.
A new position, Science Officer, was being developed, and would likely take over the roles of both Science Advisor and Technical Officer.
The latter role had been vacant since the death of David Kano, the Computer expert who had also managed the rest of the section. One of his last acts had been to start the modified Main Computer operating system which now graced Command Center and numerous other locations with a more monitor-based readouts -- a step up, albeit not a complete replacement for, the system of printing on simple strips of paper or cards. Previously, monitors had been used only for some simpler purposes, and the Alpha Information System could only be accessed at some consoles -- none of those in personal quarters except the officers'. Increasing the usefulness of all monitors and consoles, was a major step up, and a much-appreciated legacy of Kano.
After Kano's death, Picard had taken oversight of a few of Technical's departments, but was too inexperienced in management to take over the whole Technical Section, and oversight had been divided among the remaining officers, adding to their burden.
However, from what little extra information they had gotten from Eagle 4, he -- and Ray Torens -- had died on Psychon. Exactly how, Tony did not yet know; but given how long it would take the commander to return to base, it fell to Tony to break the news to Lew's sister, Leann, even though he would have almost nothing to say about how Lew had died. Tony clenched his teeth, not looking forward to telling her and others the news about Lew Picard and Ray Torens.
Besides the loss in general, it's another damn setback, he thought. The Science Officer role would take awhile to craft, as it had for Security Officer and especially First Officer. The Security Officer role had alleviated some pressure from Paul, while First Officer had replaced Paul's formal Controller role and some informal duties with a formalized second-in-command. Incorporating nearly a year's worth of "lesson's learned" and affecting that much procedural change was not an overnight decision. Losing so many people both hastened yet complicated such attempts. Lew had seemed the likely possibility for Science Officer -- or at least on the short list. The Psychons had just delayed or complicated that transition.
Tony stared at the spreading, nebula-like, central splotch which had once been much of Psychon, and felt the urge to smirk at it, as if to return Mentor's gesture to the Alphans right back to his whole world -- his rotting volcano of a world, now gone. Then he wiped the half-formed smirk from his face. It wasn't a charitable thought about a world he knew little. They had met a mix of aliens, and though on the whole not gracious towards Alpha, and some outright hostile, he had nothing against aliens per se, but had rather grown more wary -- and weary -- of them given past history. Though to varying degrees almost human or humanoid or not, they were sentient, and deserving of respect -- but had earned the increased degree of distrust Tony had for them. Despite backing off his smirk, and wishing they had simply left Alpha alone -- something few aliens seemed to care to do -- he still had no doubt Alpha was better off with Psychon gone.
But why had Psychon exploded? That was not information Eagle 4 had conveyed, and he leaned far back in his -- Koenig's -- seat, and stared at the nebula, puzzled, his movement capturing Sandra's attention at that moment.
Sandra's thoughts were not as blunt about Psychon's fate, yet were no less relieved.
She heard Tony lean back in the command seat, and looked back at him, to see puzzlement on his face. She felt the same, for she did not understand what had happened to the planet. They had been watching a 100km area of the planet as it rotated and the Moon moved, but could see no signs of how the attack was being launched, just dozens upon dozens of active volcanoes.
The sight of sudden, more, different, stronger explosions, starting to come from every volcano, and over the minutes watch the stunningly rapid progression of destruction across the planet, had given her sudden hope that Alpha would survive the attack. Witnessing the planet explode and then, some minutes later, Eagle 4 heading away from the scene, had filled her with relief, and sadness that the Psychons couldn't have just stopped their bombardment. There was no reason that their whole world should have been destroyed, but she had to admit to herself that she was relieved that it was all over.
"Why do you think it just exploded?" she asked Tony.
Standing at a nearby computer panel, Annette Fraser, who still seemed relieved her husband was returning, despite the break in communication, turned toward them to listen to Tony's answer.
"John must have found his way out of another jam...."
Annette asked the obvious question. "But the whole planet, just exploding?"
"That is just... well, I have no idea. Mysterious irony... isn't it? I follow the order to send an Eagle to destroy that unstable world. It gets intercepted and destroyed. Then not fifteen minutes later, the whole damned planet explodes. Sure, it was unstable, but that was interesting timing. I wish we had had a longer line open to the Eagle."
"I don't care how the commander did it," Annette said, "just that he's bringing my husband back, and that Alpha will survive." Annette suddenly struck Tony as a curious personality, quick to turn emotional, like Sandra, yet rather quick to recover, also not unlike Sandra, most of the time.
The puzzle was going to gnaw at Tony until John returned, but Tony also needed a little recovery. He was even getting a surreptitious look from Sandra. The last thing he needed was a junior officer trying to tell him to get some sleep, so he decided to get it himself -- after he informed some individuals of the two deaths on Psychon.
"Keep Reconnaissance, Security, Weapons, and Command Center at high status and watching for further attack from any Psychons who may still remain, but stand down the rest, and allow discretion to those other section or department heads downtime as needed unless actively engaging in repairs.
"Also, I have to step out for an hour for other duties; but when I get back, I will need a full update report on damage, casualties, and repair status."
He barely heard Sandra's confirmation as he stood up and left Command Center.
M-343 DAB 1942-1943: Hollow Hyperspatial Ringing
If a star system could be said to ring like a bell in an empty room, Psychon's did.
The conversion of some of Psychon's mass into energy and sudden dispersion of the rest of the bulk of mass had created gravity waves, which had propagated outward.
Every star moves through normal space via "simple" gravity, yet the effects of such stellar mass were felt in hyperspace, the star in effect carving out some influence in hyperspace. Most objects leaving or coming into a star system were not affected by this; but some objects in the right range of masses would, when reaching the same "distance" in normal space that the star's hyperspatial buffer region ended, gather a bubble of hyperspace around themselves and start flitting at trans-light speeds.
It was a phenomenon the Alphans were aware of, but did not really understand. They called that edge where the bubble would form or collapse the Space-Normal Boundary of the star system. They knew it was not the best description of the phenomenon; but that had become the official term, though some simply referred to it as the "edge" of the star system. Bubbles, warps, a black sun, and other forces had propelled them about, and their movements within a star system were unusual but now predictable too -- most of the time.
The Moon was still well within the Space-Normal Boundary of Psychon's star, and the gravity waves from the destruction of Psychon had passed the Moon at light speed almost immediately -- at the same moment the Alphans had seen Psychon's destruction.
Now, those waves reached the Space-Normal Boundary, and had set the bubble around Psychon's star to metaphorically "ringing" briefly yet "loudly" -- one strong signal followed by a flurry of declining ones, lasting just over a minute. Not even the Moon's arrival in or departure from a star system's edge was strong enough to cause such a disturbance, but the destruction of a planet was.
M-343 DAB 1920-2100: Difficult Duty
After a couple quick stops, including for a cup of coffee as he thought about what to tell the closest relative and friends of Ray Torens and Lew Picard, Tony Verdeschi went to do just that. He had already had the new and unpleasant experience of notifying those closest to the two fatalities of Alpha, Roger Hayes and Jane Clemens, then announcing it to the base. Now he had two more deaths to give direct notice about. That duty fell to the commander or one in temporary command, the latter depending on timing. Verdeschi could have perhaps waited, but not with Koenig still being some time from arrival.
Ray and Lew each had a couple close friends, but neither had been married or involved at the time of their deaths. Lew, however, had a sister on base: Leann. He had already decided to talk to her first.
Leann of course took the loss of her brother hard, and looked both angry and in pain at the same time. Though not cursing the planet or Mentor or such, he could imagine that the only siblings to earn their way to concurrent -- if very different -- postings on Alpha, only months apart, would have felt a continued tight familial bond after Breakaway. Though some marriages and engagements had been severed by Breakaway, the two Picards were the only pre-Breakaway familial bond not severed by distance. George Osgood was not a relative to Patrick Osgood, who had married Michelle, so none of the three current Osgoods were blood relatives like the two Picards were.
Almost as if on cue, the brown-haired woman said, bitterly, "I suppose it was unfair to expect that we'd remain the only ones with a blood relative on base."
Beyond some basic command-level training Tony had received years ago, about dealing with difficult announcements, he was not a grief counselor, and followed the training by remaining silent or giving simple responses, unless there was an exceptionally ugly or troubling outburst. John Koenig, unfortunately, had a lot more experience in this area.
"How did he die?" she asked.
"We didn't really get any details. There was communications interference not long after we got the news." At her somewhat alarmed expression, he hastily added, "From the planet's debris." He didn't add that he was still concerned about possible other causes, such as other Psychons elsewhere in the system, and was half-expecting another Red Alert to start blaring at any moment.
Leann's expression changed back to bitterness. "So I have to wait to talk to the Commander about how the Psychons killed my brother."
Tony wasn't sure how to respond to that. He heard an "echo" of few of his own feelings about the aliens mixed in, though obviously not having suffered a loss such as hers. "I am sorry."
Her anger faded, and she instead sank onto the nearest seat.
"Did you find out if they're... bringing... his...."
"I'm not sure: the signal was cutting out."
"You're not sure, but...."
He relented. "Leann, I really am not sure; but no, from what we did catch, I don't think so."
"So probably can't even bring him back to what passes for a home -- gone with the alien planet that killed him."
The last was soft, almost defeated-sounding, rather than angry. Tony didn't try to say "sorry" again about this. What few more words were exchanged were mostly things he'd been taught to say, including a suggestion she could contact Dr. Mathias if she wished to talk. That some choose to talk to him, some went to Helena, and some not at all, was not up to Tony in the slightest. He offered his condolences again, and left to seek out those who were the closest to Lew and Ray.
He had already contacted the closest to Roger Hayes, and to Jane Clemens, some time before. In the latter case, it was a fiancé, and one of Tony's own personnel, on detachment from another section. That had been the least pleasant, for the man had always had something of a temper, and was none too kind in his assessment about aliens. "So, they finally cost me not one, but two people close to me. Damn murderers," was one of his somewhat tamer statements. As Tony went around informing a few more people directly of the latest tragic news, there were a couple curses against Psychon or Psychons, which Tony could understand, but also some numb reactions. Alpha had suffered so many deaths since Breakaway, and though networks of friendships had been spreading only slowly, Tony doubted there were many Alphans who had not been affected more closely by at least one death.
Having to privately inform those closest to four people, in a short period of time, was a difficult first taste for Tony of this ugly necessity, and he wasn't relishing that he also had to make the initial public announcement of all four. This too could not wait until the Commander returned, though he knew Koenig would still speak too upon his return. Tony returned to Command Center, and did his part, gently, briefly, yet respectfully. Tony was not a man for speeches, but yet found some words he hoped were fine.
After that duty was complete, he listened to Sandra's more detailed report, but found that she had provisionally handled some questions, and agreed with her responses and issued a couple more orders, all minor. She was a competent junior officer, but noticed she could be very reactive in stressful situations, especially after she had lost Paul. It wasn't just the latest, but in his having some late shift Main Mission duty starting some weeks before his promotion to Security Officer. Sandra had more calm in her than Annette Fraser, but Annette wasn't an officer either.
He had to stifle a yawn. He was struggling with more fatigue than one cup of coffee could fight, and had not gotten the nap he had intended. He instructed Sandra to bring in another operative, and contact him if the slightest problem crept up. He felt a brief moment of guilt for taking the first sleep break, but she still looked relatively alert, and could go for another hour -- an officer needing to remain in CC while still on Yellow Alert. His first taste of actual command had been a hard, grinding, bitter experience, and sending that nuclear Eagle to destroy Psychon, his colleagues with it, even though unsuccessful, had taken more out of him than he had initially realized. He knew he'd bounce back, but for now, it wouldn't do for the relatively new first officer, in his first temporary command, to fall asleep in the command chair during Yellow Alert.
Other than shedding footwear, he immediately flopped in the nearest chair in his quarters, head leaning against a wall, not looking for the deep sleep of a bed, but to send a signal to his body he was seeking some light sleep, not realizing he was in effect asking for REM sleep.
End of the main threat or not, intending a light nap or not, Tony was soon dreaming of Mentor's face, not on a view screen, but directly in front of Tony, as they stood in Tony's Security office, face to face. Mentor's bizarre features were now even further twisted away from the smooth sliminess of his smirk, to a domineering sneer instead, laughing viciously in evil mirth, Tony trying to punch him out but failing, getting hit, until he finally delivered a hit right to the alien's face--
Tony awoke with a start, his breath a little ragged. His dreams were rarely violent, despite having had to deal with an increasing number of crises which sometimes involved violence as he rose through the ranks on Alpha. Mentor, however, had made such a strong, bruising impression on Tony's first major command situation, that it had gotten to his dreams, fast.
He stood up and decided that despite still having half of the hour he had allocated to himself, that he would rather take a quick shower, talk to Lena a bit, get some more coffee, then return to Command Center and relieve Sandra.
He kept expecting a call from CC, but it was not coming, and he began to wonder if maybe there weren't any Psychons left after all. Unless John had gotten some damn-fool idea to bring the violent lunatic Mentor or some other psycho back with him, he thought with a sudden lurch. He could just picture Helena convincing John to give Mentor some second chance or something. He was familiar with her intelligence and her curious combination of steely will and soft heart, the latter showing more and more recently -- though he had seen some of it too during his time stuck in the up-level Medical Center, just after Breakaway.
He had spent nearly a week in the MC after his severe injuries at Breakaway. It had taken him a few weeks of physical therapy before he had recovered enough to resume his duties. His professional life post-recovery, with Koenig in full command, had then proceeded to turn out much different than pre-Breakaway, with Gorski in command. Koenig had taken some interest in the high duty-performance marks Verdeschi kept receiving from Morrow, as well as Verdeschi's infrequently-advertised background. Koenig had started promoting him, first to squad leader, even if that meant little practical change in his duties other than some more electronic 'paperwork,' then to Security Officer when that position was created in part to take some burden off the Controller, and most recently to First Officer, when Paul had died and the Commander sought some partial reorganization on Alpha. So he knew John Koenig pretty well, and Helena Russell somewhat well too, and was more concerned about the latter than the former when it came to possibly bringing Mentor or another of the aliens back.
Tony believed in forgiveness, from those seeking it honestly, but was not quick to dole out forgiveness, for he also believed, both theoretically and from experience, direct or indirect, of aliens and other dangerous types, that if you had got an attacker "down," and there was every sign of their attacking if they got back "up," to keep them down. Tony had seen enough of that attitude, or something like it, in Commander Koenig, to realize the two of them were both survivors and pragmatists, even if John sometimes was still willing to extend more trust at times.
No, there are not any Psychons on board the Eagle, or the first words out of Alan's mouth would have been a warning to prepare the detention cell for a prisoner.
A different thought occurred suddenly, that maybe a Psychon was on board and had taken over, but Tony quickly dealt with it, knowing he would have seen subtle signs from Alan if he were in duress from a Psychon holding Alan hostage; or even more obviously, Bill would not have responded the expected way to the kiss Annette had blown over the commlink.
Tony relaxed again, confident in his conclusions.
As he walked to Botany to see if Lena Andreichi was there, he thought about her again. Earlier, he had called her in a brief moment after the major concerns were initially dealt with. He had wanted to make sure she was safe. Their relationship had gotten rocky recently, in a pattern all too familiar to Tony. Besides that, strains had also shown from lack of time spent together, especially after he took the additional role of First Officer. Then, she had started asking about former girlfriends. That was usually when his prior relationships had started faltering. So he tried to duck the questions, but they got more insistent over time, and had finally led to a blow out, not permanent he hoped, but not pretty. He had accused her of being too curious about things which no longer mattered -- well, more like accusing her of invading private matters long past. She had called him a "fool" -- which now had him having filled, at least once each, her trifecta of the three things it had become clear she did not care for: ill-timed interruptions, clowns, and fools.
From the start of their relationship, he had found her forthright, direct, and to-the-point nature very appealing; and their relationship had heated up quickly. He had learned how to deal with her pet peeve about interruptions, in part by making sure that if he did so for non-business reasons, that he always had something nice to say or give -- but mostly to avoid it.
Abruptly, Tony changed his course, to stop at a cafeteria. He could at least bring her a coffee. Black, of course. No-nonsense, like so much of her personality.
The "clown" part had been harder. She had soon outright nicknamed him "Clown" -- sometimes he was "her clown" and sometimes "Clown" and sometimes he was just "a clown" -- depending on her mood or his words. He had tried to tone down his sense of humour the best he could, but that was difficult, and he had started wondering why he was putting up with a woman that as much as he felt good being with, couldn't stand a major part of him. There was always a major flaw in every one of his relationships; and with this one, it was his sense of humour colliding with Lena's almost complete lack of one.
Lena's to-the-point nature had been very appealing from the start. She spoke her mind, didn't dance around points. Yet that appealing part eventually began to come in conflict with parts of his nature. The problem over humour was a big one. The whole not-liking-interruptions bit, at first a minor irritant, soon became an annoyance too. Still, she had never called him a fool -- until he refused to talk about past relationships. These latest conflicts had been not that many days before.
So it was good when he came into one of Botany's rooms, up-level now that so much had been moved around, and he saw her there. She was busily repotting a plant, perhaps knocked down during the bombardment. As had become his habit around her when showing up unannounced while she was working, he waited until she acknowledged his presence -- which he sometimes didn't mind and sometimes found irksome. If nothing else, it gave him a chance to quietly look at her for awhile. Tony had always thought Lena had fairly striking looks, with short dark hair, thick eyebrows, soft brown eyes on an otherwise usually serious face, and a somewhat short but nicely-curvy body. She looked up and smiled, even a bit more when he held up the coffee. She always had a great smile, when she chose to express it. "Thank you," she said. "I could really use the caffeine, and this room doesn't have a dispenser."
"Are you telling me you haven't put in a request by now?" It was a light-hearted statement, but he said it seriously, and she took it as such.
"Actually, I did. Turned down. I even suggested they should take it from one of the Hydroponics rooms -- the one where Shermeen Williams and Eddie Collins usually work. They don't drink coffee. I asked."
They exchanged a few more words, her asking about what he could say about base status, he about how Botany had fared.
She flicked her fingers through her short hair. "Some knocked-over plants. I keep after people to secure these things, but some people get careless. Most of this stuff is our food or for future needs." She didn't say it angrily, just in her typical business-like tone. She had gotten angry with Tony their last real get-together, now four days in the past, before Psychon. "Hand me the pH meter, please."
"Sure," he said, picking up the device and handing it to her. "Do I or the Commander need to get on someone's case in particular?"
His blunt talk was always appreciated by Lena, and she said, "No, not yet. I'll make my point again, this time harder, and they better take it seriously this time." Lena was not high-level personnel, but she did have some sway, and people didn't care to be on her bad side either. "If that isn't enough," she continued, "you'll hear about it, because I'm tired of having my real work interrupted to -- and added to -- by nonsense like this."
"Why don't you make the others do it-"
"We all have to do it. The plants need-"
"Of course."
"Maybe we were both being fools, a few days ago," Lena said abruptly, not taking long to get to the sore point. "Still, we have to talk."
He agreed, though he had no sense of whether it would be better; but both knew they couldn't make an actual date yet. Too much work to get to the next several days, and what time off remained, they'd probably be too tired. So they decided to play it by ear. They kissed, but it felt somewhat distant. At least she hadn't protested the interruption, called him a clown, or re-started the argument they had ended their last date with. Even the "fool" part, she had taken equal share of, surprisingly enough, though he got the feeling she was still stewing over the last argument.
Maya looked at one of the walls of the Eagle space'ship she was inside. The ship had been totally alien when she first ran inside it, confused at the shapes and alien color scheme and blinking lights all around in the smoky haze. She had taken some steps inside, still coughing, head down, slowing when she didn't know where to go, then feeling the Alphan woman's hands on her upper arms, and looking back briefly at her and then following her lead onto a dark-colored seat. Now, with the haze long clear, the chaotic confusion gone to numb calm, she could grasp most of what she saw as simple things: seats, walls, computer panels, equipment, storage modules of some kind, a rack holding what she assumed were weapons, closets with pressure'clothing, a passage to the front section where the pilots must be, a door in back of her.
Lingering on thoughts of this alien ship reminded her of its outside. She realized with a start that as she and Commander Koenig had dashed towards it, the Commander half pulling her by her hand, as if he fearing she would give up and stop running, that it had been her last sight of Psychon itself, in its ruin, dying in blasts of fire even as the quaking ground threatened to throw her onto her knees. At least sixteen alien space'ships were scattered about -- yet another shock, realizing they had been ripped from space and freedom, and reminding her their people had been captured and turned into living husks by her own father.
Now the scene was coming back into her conscious mind again, a scene of some measure of horror in its own right. Empty husks of ships, with the life removed, diminished, slaving mindlessly, then extinguished -- paying the price for trying to revert Psychon from its ruinous form.
She tried to press the ships out of mind for now, and for a moment, she felt peace, then "saw" the Grove, heard her father's words in an out-of-order jumble, saw the flames, felt their heat again, like a nightmare in the day.
It was enough to bring her almost back to tears and sobs, when suddenly, there was movement in front of her gaze. She blinked, clearing her eyes, and saw one of the other people, evidently a pilot of Alphan space'ships. She thought his name was Alan -- or maybe Fraser. Some bits of memory were blurred together, which was disconcerting.
The Commander noticed them looking at each other, and took a few steps closer. "I don't think you two have been properly introduced. Alan, this is Maya. Maya, this Captain Alan Carter, Chief Pilot."
"Hello, Maya," he said with a smile.
"Hello," she echoed, then quickly tried to parse his even more complex title-plus-name into something resembling the apparent Alphan style, "Captain Carter Pilot."
He laughed for a moment but quickly said, "Oh no. Just call me Alan."
He was looking at her with just about the most honest, friendly smile she could imagine. She decided he really was trying to be cordial, and responded, "Hello, Alan."
"Much better."
Even after she had helped them, she was still surprised he was being this friendly after the horrors Psychon had put him through; but she welcomed it, with as much of a small smile as she could manage.
"Alan participates in a lot of missions, and is responsible for the Eagles, Eagle bays, and Eagle maintenance," the Commander detailed.
"And training new pilots," Alan said with a smile again, "If you would be interested at some point."
In surprise, and wondering if he was serious or just trying to cheer her up, she deferred, saying, "Except for my father's ship and another type I learned to fly, I've only learned a few others on holographic simulators." She blushed, not out of shyness, but out of shame as she realized those simulations were probably based on those space'ships marooned on Psychon.
"Well, that might be good experience. Most of my trainees have never even flown a Cessna before, and learn just fine, if they make the effort to learn well. After that, it mainly takes time, patience, and practice."
Maya let herself be distracted from her last thought by the pilot's words. She did not know exactly what a cessna was, but from context assumed it was a simpler space'ship of some kind, and realized that did not seem important. He seemed to be expecting further response. "Maybe sometime, if I am allowed," she said, wondering if there might be heavy restrictions placed on her regarding important activities.
"Allowed?" Alan looked at her with a frown, then turned to Commander Koenig.
"Nothing I said. Maya, the opportunity may arise, and actually, if you are interested at some point, just submit a request, and we will evaluate it."
That offer surprised Maya; and despite her shock, it intrigued her. "Thank you," she said simply, yet feeling a bit more hope.
Alan had tried, with only mild success, to cheer up the pretty alien who had saved their lives and sacrificed so much of hers in the process. He got some response, but knew not to expect a lot for awhile. She would need friends, and he found himself plenty willing to be one of hers.
So he finally just thanked Maya for her actions, as simply and briefly as he could, to which she had nodded but looked sad, before turning away.
The pings of debris had slowed and then stopped an hour earlier, and they had turned the Eagle nose forward again. They still couldn't raise Alpha, and Alan was all but certain the communications array was damaged.
His stomach began reminding him again of his hunger. Having not had a thing in some time but water and a little bit of Psychon's mildly bitter bars of orange food, even an MRE seemed like a great idea, so he went over to get one, then said, "As long as I'm looking for grub, who wants some?"
"Grub?" Maya asked, turning back with a curious expression, a sign of something other than her grim sadness. "Larval insects?"
Alan laughed. "Huh, a sense of humor?"
"I wasn't trying to be funny...."
"Well it was still a good joke, even if unintentional."
"Food," Helena finally supplied.
"Nah," Alan said, "the stuff on Alpha is maybe food. This is grub; but I'm hungry. Have some."
Alan could see Dr. Russell watching Maya's reaction, which was an almost immediate shake of her head. "You are kind; but no, I am not ready to eat," Maya said politely.
"Are you sure?" Alan asked. "It is not all that bad, and it really is not, uh, larval insects."
Maya managed a wan upturn of her lips, but shook her head and quietly turned away as Alan looked at Helena, who shrugged slightly and shook her head a little once, obviously indicating not to push it, though he saw Helena look at Maya thoughtfully.
Into the silence, the Commander said, "I'll relieve Fraser."
Alan nodded appreciatively, knowing Bill needed the break too.
Bill came back a minute later, and Helena carried out the formal introductions this time. "Maya, this is Bill Fraser. Bill, this is Maya."
"Hello, Maya, it is good to meet you."
"Hello... Bill," she said after a pause, as if unsure whether to follow the same use of first name Alan had insisted on. "It is good to meet you." Then her expression changed, like she was realizing something. "You and Alan are both here. Who is flying your other Eagle?"
Bill looked to Alan, who said, "It was damaged. I couldn't get it restarted."
Maya looked down, and said, "Oh, so you lost a space'ship too."
"Oh, don't worry about it. We end up losing them a lot," he said with his most jocular tone. Not that he was fooling anyone except maybe Maya: it was something that pained Alan each time; but it wasn't poor Maya's fault, so there was no reason for her to feel more miserable.
M-343 DAB 2100-2130: Another Moon
Astrophysicist Douglas McLeod looked at the nebula-like splotch which had once been Psychon, then carefully tracked Alpha's powerful telescope to one side.
Douglas had been an astronomer at heart his whole life; and right now, it almost felt like back on Earth, a telescope outside in the mid- or late-evening -- the time was even the same even though that did not mean as much as it used to -- a few friends or neighbors gathered. He was never one who liked observing alone.
Today was no exception. When he had mentioned, an hour before, while finishing supper, that he was going to observe the remains of the destroyed alien planet, he actually got more curiosity than the small room of computer link-ups, screens, and photo-printers could handle, so he picked the first two who had shown interest.
The room was filled with extremely high-end equipment, the likes of which he certainly had not enjoyed at home. This particular telescope, the most powerful humans had built, was some distance from the base, however -- away from the blast of Eagle thrusters, too-frequent alien attacks, and most other disturbances. He was just in a dedicated -- and small -- link-up room. The systems were hooked up through Main Computer, so Main Mission or Command Center had been able to link up too, if they needed the greater power -- though they usually preferred to use a less-powerful but faster-moving telescopic camera. This room was far more immersive, had more dedicated controls, reference material, and even a few of the nicer photo-printouts, those not needed for a report, taped thickly to the walls and just about any other free space. He had seen a lot of beautiful-looking worlds in the last year, more than he had ever imagined in a lifetime.
The discussion now, not surprisingly given the target of observation, was what could bring even a wildly-volcanic planet like Psychon to completely blow itself apart -- and well after the nuclear Eagle had been intercepted, short of the planet and several minutes before it exploded.
He took a digital photo every ten minutes, and had generated one photo-printout. In between, he looked for another object, one whose position he thought he had calculated correctly, but always seemed to be obscured by part of the central splotch, or not quite where he expected. Still, it should be... "There it is."
He had known Psychon had a natural satellite, and in fact he and the computer had calculated its orbit, and Psychon's orbit around its sun, and other key factors as they got close enough to do so. Psychon's moon was larger than Earth's Moon, actually, and denser, and had a thin atmosphere, incredibly enough. It had been a few times further out from the parent planet than Earth's Moon's former orbit, this one formerly in a 3.2-month orbit, while Psychon itself took a little over eighteen months to circle its somewhat more massive and luminous star.
Though Psychon was still far heavier than its moon, Psychon and its moon had nonetheless been almost a double planet, the barycenter actually above Psychon's surface rather than the barycenter of the former Earth-Moon system, which had been somewhat below Earth's. Suddenly "freed" of Psychon's gravity, that moon was shooting off in the direction essentially tangential to the point it had been in orbit when the planet had exploded. Of course, the mass of Psychon had not instantly dispersed, but was still spreading out, complicating his re-computation. Yet relatively little time had elapsed, so that former moon couldn't have gone far. However, with all the debris, one couldn't just look for a single speck in a wide-field view and zoom in: Douglas had needed to re-compute the position as best as he could, tweaking it slightly when first attempts had failed. Finally, his work had paid off as a circular object came into clear view at the edge of the view. It was still just a small disk, so he centered it and then pushed the telescope's controls to higher magnification. It started that process.
Meanwhile, now that he had the location, the computers continued tracking despite the Moon's altered rotation, its strange course through space, and the increasing separation from the objects of interest. After Breakaway, he had spent a considerable amount of time calculating new telescope tracking equations, working for awhile with the now-late David Kano and his staff to get the programming hammered out and the bugs fixed. So many of the equations that applied while in Earth orbit, with a well-known rotation period and orbital movement, had become very different or moot after Breakaway.
"Douglas! Look at that glowing spot. What is that? How big is it?"
"A crater, hundreds of kilometers across and still glowing, created when a rather large chunk of Psychon hit it." He immediately snapped a picture and generated two photo-printouts, one for a report, one to add to the wall in this room. This was a rare occasion, to capture the after-effects of an immense cratering event. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, but this was stunning, and for a moment, though the crater diameters and other features very different, he thought their own Moon might have looked somewhat reminiscent of that, in the days after the Breakaway explosion.
In the turmoil after Breakaway, no one thought of sending an Eagle to check on it until after the surface had already crusted over the Moon's newest -- and most unusually-created -- crater. It was currently still dubbed NC-A2, New Crater A2, a provisional name if Douglas had ever heard one, even if the A2 part was after what had once been located where the crater was now centered: Area Two. There had been jokes that maybe it should have been posthumously named after Simmonds. There were persistent rumors, "urban legends" almost, that some actions by Simmonds had delayed discovery of what was happening to two of the larger Nuclear Disposal Areas until it was too late; but details were thin and murky.
"I'm surprised that Psychon's moon didn't crack up from the collision."
"That together with the rapid dissipation of its parent's gravity," Douglas commented.
"Is that one heading out of its solar system?"
"Definitely. Even in such a wide orbit, it was still moving around Psychon pretty fast. The gravity of the parent held it in place, and once severed so suddenly, not even the star's gravity is enough to sap much of that speed."
"The universe seems to favor sending moons wandering around the galaxy," another of his friends observed.
That brought a little silence, and Douglas thought it was too bad they wouldn't be able to observe whether that would be the case: their own Moon would be reaching the edge of the system before the Psychon moon, at which point the Moon would gather up an immense hyperspatial bubble around itself and zip into trans-light speeds. They'd simply be far beyond the telescope's maximum range by the time Psychon's moon reached that point.
Finally, the first said, "I'm guessing that one wasn't inhabited or we'd have probably been attacked by now."
"Unless they were too shell shocked," the second said. "Hell, we were all plastered to the floor for several minutes. Then if they got cratered like that...."
"Don't know," Douglas said. "I think you're right, though, that if there were survivors, we'd have likely heard by now."
Something nagged at Douglas though, like he was supposed to be observing something. He couldn't imagine what, as this was a very new and unique situation, and he was inventing things to check as he thought of them.
He looked at the photo of Psychon's moon.
T-344 DAB 0200-0400: Lessons and Decisions
Both Alan and Bill had taken short breaks, Maya had been given a brief tour of Eagle 4 and a chance to wash up in the ship's basic facilities in the far back. She had emerged, less the sooty smudges on her face, but looking more tired. Dr. Russell advised the Psychon to try sleeping.
Both John and Helena had tried to get some sleep too; but it was only sporadic, and not helped much that the newest Alphan was having fitful bits of sleep interspersed with occasional muttering of words like: Mentor, Psyche, ina, or addawa.
When John fully opened his eyes again, he found Maya staring at a wall, not so blankly this time as mildly curious, looking about at all the unlabeled or tersely-labeled buttons and lights scattered about. So he decided to engage her in a little conversation, starting to show her a little bit about the computer systems in the pod of the Eagle. She showed immediate interest and asked some very intelligent questions.
"You like this sort of thing?" he then asked in a very casual tone.
"Oh, yes! Science and technology are so wonderfully interesting. I sort of annoyed Eralay sometimes when she wanted to teach history and I was still thinking about fusion, force fields, or the latest computer."
"Eralay? Your mother?"
"No, my first formal teacher. The first four years -- Psychon years -- of formal schooling are mostly with a generalist teacher who knows about many topics, and that same teacher will continue teaching the student on at least one different topic for each of the next four years. She was my favorite. She knew a lot, and never slighted any one topic, though everyone could tell she liked history, sociology, and ah... comparative multiworld sociology -- though I never had that last course with her."
Xeno-sociology, he thought. Too bad Maya didn't have that course. But she was learning about fusion in their equivalent of grade school or middle school? He was surprised at how similar her first four years sounded like the American public school system, as far as teachers went, yet how teachers seemed to teach up to eight years of schooling.
He didn't recall exactly how long a Psychon year was -- he tended to forget the revolution rates of clearly-uninhabitable planets rather quickly, whereas rotation rates were always important if there was any intent to explore. Still, he was a little annoyed at his complacency regarding this bit of information, in one of his own fields.
By the time he finished thinking, though, Maya had lost some of the animated tone of her response, and he only caught a fragment about Eralay and piloting skills, before Maya looked at Helena and trailed off. Helena was gathering up a medical kit and glancing their way. Koenig already had some very interesting responses from Maya to ponder, so he gently took Maya's arm and steered her in Helena's direction.
Helena clearly wanted to run a few basic field tests on Maya, and like John's questions, Helena's remained fairly basic. She wanted to make sure Maya didn't seem to be ill or anything. She hadn't eaten yet either, though that seemed understandable.
Meanwhile, he considered what Maya had just said. He could not believe his luck -- Alpha's luck. Maya hadn't just soaked up some doses of Psychon science and technology, but was apparently very much scientifically- and technically-oriented.
John was often philosophical, and something of a dreamer at times, but he was also very solidly a pragmatist. The surprise occurrence of suddenly having an alien, and apparently a technically adept one at that, soon to be living on Alpha, was a welcome development, the only silver lining of a tragic experience all around. She could be a helpful resource, and though Alphans had done a remarkable job, he wasn't about to let pride in that get in the way of accepting whatever contributions a Psychon could add to the extensive Terran ones.
That she seemed to be such a good-natured person too was definitely helpful, though he had no doubt there would be some difficult adjustments on both sides. Hopefully the lessons learned in the last war would help the Terrans avoid some mistakes with her, and she would be welcomed as a person. She deserved that, regardless of anything else. Yet hopefully the strength of will and character he had seen on Psychon would remain on Alpha. He saw hints it was there still; but under shells of shock, her strength would hopefully not be suffocated. Helena's words about Maya having a new home on Alpha, and his words about getting to know each other were true and honest, and he hoped it would be true across Alpha to some degree early on, and more over time.
He would have to get some more details on her technical talents later, over the coming days; but it had already occurred to him before that if she did show signs of scientific and technical talents, that her having discussions with as many people in the Technical Section would be the best way to start finding out a little of how she might be able to help.
John stepped up to the pilot module, and found that both pilots seemed fatigued. No surprise given the long flight, the harrowing experiences on Psychon, and that though given brief breaks to eat and such, they had not really had the chance to sleep a little. "Give me a few minutes," Koenig said to them, "and we should be able to give both of you longer breaks." John didn't expect any protest from Bill, and got none; but the fact that even Alan did not protest, was a sign of how ready for sleep he was, even if it would only be for a couple hours. He went back, and Helena had finished her brief initial tests and questions and moved away from Maya, whose eyes were closed again, trying to seek some more sleep. He signaled Helena over, then said quietly, "Helena, why don't we give both pilots a break."
"I was just going to suggest that."
They stepped forward, one at a time, to relieve the pilots, warning them Maya was trying to sleep.
John settled into the pilot seat first, then Helena into the co-pilot seat. Helena had trained some months before in Level 1 Eagle Flight, under the Officer Pilot Rule implemented a few months after Breakaway. She was working her way through Level 2 training on a sporadic basis. She settled in and checked a few readings, putting a little of her practice to use, and also closed the pilot module doors as well, while he tried again to raise Alpha, but with no luck.
"Did you give her something?" he asked her when she seemed settled in.
"I'm hesitant to give her anything until I know more about her physiology. Besides, if she can find natural sleep, that's better for anyone."
"What did you get so far?"
"There's a lot of consistency, but there are a few slightly unusual readings, and I won't know more until I can run full diagnostics, more tests, and ask her some more questions. I didn't want to push her too much now, because she's still emotionally shocky, I think."
The conversation drifted to Maya's personality traits, and he discussed what he had observed in their first meeting and after, of a playful, intelligent, naive, yet self-assured young woman. Friendly, yet ready to defend her own, vigorously. How adaptable she might be, and how well she could recover, were harder to say, but both felt optimistic she had inner strength and could find some comfort in friendship as well, if that response was strong enough too.
They went silent for a minute again, and then John asked, "How are you holding up?"
"Okay. I will have to work all of us up after all that happened -- and Bob check me, of course."
"What about Psyche?" he asked in his gentlest tone, indicating if she wanted to talk, she could, if she didn't now, that she didn't have to.
Her response was immediate. "Oh, God, John, that machine was horrible," she said, not hysterically, but as someone willing to talk to John specifically. "It was like something clawing at my brain, or my mind, or both, trying to get through the outer shell to get inside and tear my mind apart. For a brief moment, I thought I saw sadness in Mentor's eyes about what he was doing; but he should have been utterly repulsed by his own actions. How one man could have created and used Psyche that way, yet raised Maya at the same time, I don't know."
"He was a soul way beyond lost, yet not entirely."
Helena said nothing for a bit, then said, "No, more like a man with a divided heart or divided soul, one part falling far, yet one part staying firmly rooted and still raising his daughter right."
"Maya shouted to Mentor that Psyche had made him do evil. Maybe true in some sense, but I think his own desire to restore the planet ran so deep, so unchecked, he was corrupted and it became him and Psyche together descending to the depths they did."
"Maybe he was restoring the planet and keeping her safe from his darker side so that he could give the world to her, other Psychons, and their children, as they were, not as he had become. What would be the point in restoring the planet but destroying the very person he was doing it for in the end?"
John was surprised by this side of Helena, whenever he saw it. At times, she almost sounded a little like Victor. Even as Alphans were starting to come out of their still somewhat shell shocked states post-Breakaway, and signs of community were starting to spring up, at least according to some, the philosophical side seemed to be quietly spreading too. Maybe less at the forefront but running deeper, quieter, more widespread. It was a curious, almost contradictory shift.
"I have to wonder if the Maya he kept safe from himself would have accepted the restored world if she had learned the price others had to pay for it." John said.
"You know her better, but I doubt it, and I doubt Mentor would have ever told her or anyone."
"I think you're right." He paused, then, the tangent having taken its course for now, returned to his original concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'll need that checkup, but yes, I think I am. It will probably give me nightmares for awhile, though."
"Just give me a call if you want to talk," John said.
Helena's smile was very warm, especially when she said, "You will be the first I call."
He returned her smile, thinking how beautiful she looked, and how glad he was she had made it. It had been years after Jean's death before he had started dating again, and he had only a few girlfriends since then, none that he felt more of a growing connection to then Helena. He sometimes made him wonder what Jean would have thought of Helena, but he had a feeling that 13 years later, Jean would have more likely have been kicking John for not having tried harder to find happiness again. Jean had been a romantic pragmatist, if there could be said to be such a thing.
His thoughts lingered on Jean, and mostly Helena, for awhile, but his own pragmatic side soon took over. There was still some thinking to do before they reached Alpha.
John was pretty certain Tony would be taking care of the death notices, including for Picard and Torens. There would be a memorial and funerals in about a week or less. He pushed that out of mind for the moment. It was too early to think about what he would say then. However, he would have to give a base-wide message soon after his return. It was a too-familiar pattern.
Then there was Maya, and how to introduce her. After he came up with some thoughts, his mind wandered away from the initial announcement phases to the "what next?" part.
It struck him that he could make her the Science Advisor. At first, it seemed the perfect role, at least temporarily, while everyone found out just how widespread her knowledge might be. Victor had been talented in many fields, and even after his death, and the creation of a new, as yet unfilled, role of Science Officer, the Science Advisor role was still being used for now, and it had been Lew's title. Of course, giving that title to Maya would likely provoke mixed reaction, but he saw no need to invent yet another new title just for her. Best just to deal with any issue head on. If Maya really did seem to have the technical aptitude, he'd probably just assign her the role, and hope she would just accept it.
That settled, he thought to her most immediate needs. Seeing her around the base, starting to introduce her, finding her quarters, seeing to her safety among Alphans that might not all welcome her presence, at least not initially. John could not see to all of that. He would have to delegate, and the choices were obvious: Tony, with some help from Sandra.
"John?" Helena said very quietly.
"What? Oh." He laughed ever so slightly, and smiled. It couldn't hurt to see if he was missing anything. Even having dealt briefly with Dione, and hosting the Kaldorians briefly too, this was really a new situation. So he laid out his arguments, thinking it was sound but knowing feedback from a trusted source and an officer couldn't hurt.
She said little about the science advisor idea, which he took as general acceptance, but seemed more concerned about Tony. John argued that despite his hotheadedness, Tony was much more of a level-headed guy than some gave him credit for, was basically a decent person at heart, cautious but not paranoid. The arguments were not new, even if the context -- of Tony having been in command of Alpha during Mentor's attack on it.
Tony might react with wariness or even a little initial hostility to Maya, but John thought he would see to Maya's safety regardless of his suspicions. John intended to make sure this would be the case, however, for Mentor had pleaded with him to "save Maya" -- and though Mentor had little honor left except when it came to his daughter, John had every intention of making sure Maya had a safe home. Furthermore, if there were problems, it would be better to let the two adjust to each other. Trying to shield her from any mixed reaction would be a short-term relief that could create long-term problems, which would not be good if she became a key team member.
Helena's reluctance early in his arguments eventually faded, somewhat, and in the end agreed with his reasoning, but indicated they should still both keep an eye on Tony. Some lingering suspicion and resistance on his part could be expected, and accepted, but anything more severe, and reconsideration might be needed. If so, I'll be reconsidering the wisdom of choosing Tony as First Officer, John thought to himself. Hopefully Tony would simply accept Maya, be charmed by her, or whatever.
The couple of hours went quickly, and it was soon Alan stepping forward to take the Eagle back, followed by Bill, who informed them Maya was wide awake again. She had not said anything in her sleep this time, but still seemed a troubled sleeper, he said.
Alan said he had tried taking her mind off things by briefly explaining about the modular principal of the Eagle Transporter System. "She called it very unique, and I think she meant it as a compliment," he said with a smile, possibly of pride, even though he had not designed the craft.
John and Helena walked back to Maya, and he started explaining part of the plan to her. "We will take you to Command Center first. Then First Officer Tony Verdeschi, the Security Officer, will see you around. He will see to your safety too. I do not expect any real problems, and will be quite disappointed in my people if there are, but I want to reassure you we are going to be careful about that. He and at least one other, Service Section leader Sandra Benes, will help you settle in."
"Thank you, Commander; that is very generous."
They described a bit more, but did not discuss the Science Advisor possibility. It was still a little premature to bring it up, until they talked with her more -- and with others.
Helena tried to get Maya to eat, pushing a little more; but the latter politely but firmly refused. The doctor clearly didn't like it when otherwise-healthy patients refused to eat, stress or not.
John had already sat in a seat, and signalled Helena over. She sat next to him, and he reached his arm over her shoulder, and she accepted it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Maya notice it, and even smile a tiny bit. He had noticed that she seemed to appreciate comforting touches, so maybe that part of her culture was similar too, and she was glad to see another sign of it. Yes, they would be aliens getting to know each other. For the moment, though, he was mainly happy again that Helena was safe.
DCS 7418,187;552-567: Tone Heard
Syric was rarely called by name anymore, not by anyone but his wife and closest relatives. Not since his ten-generations-grandfather had been brutally murdered a year before, and Syric had become Archon.
Psychon brainstems were hardy, and in combination with Dorcon bodies that themselves were hardy away from the brainstem, the combination conferred virtual immortality. Just how much was unknown, because the Archons who received such life ended up murdered after some point, even if it was centuries later. Even some key advisors or scientists who had been blessed with such also ended up vaporized at some point, or in some catastrophic accident or "accident" -- sometimes when they sought too much power for the Archon's liking, and sometimes if some more-mortal Dorcon grew jealous.
Syric's ancestor had lasted long, though, and where that ancestor's own predecessor had begun building the Federated Worlds of Dorcon into an empire, Syric's ancestor had grown it even further, into the strongest Empire in the galaxy. It was far from ruling all, but it was feared.
Now it was Syric's turn as Archon. He had already started a war to obtain yet another valuable technology, the meson converter, from a smaller power they had ran into during the expansion of the Dorcon Empire, and had refused to "federate" with the Dorcons.
Upon ascension, he had, of course, immediately ordered his Consul, a wise old man, to find a way of capturing a Psychon. That would not be so easy.
Dorcons and Psychons had been enemies going back to almost the earliest days after Dorca had expanded, re-absorbing colonies and joining with like-minded peoples into a strong federation.
They had run across ships of the unusual, metamorphic Psychons during that time. Kidnapping a few individuals and studying them, the Dorcons found the Psychon metamorphic ability could not be replicated, though it could be suppressed; but they stumbled across a curious finding that Psychon brainstems were remarkably hardy, perhaps to support metamorphosis in some way. With more kidnappings of Psychons, the Dorcons, masterful medical engineers, had come up with a process of supporting a transplant into select Dorcons. Molecular transformation had not been conferred, and some Dorcons speculated that higher brain functions and low-level, body-wide cell functions were also needed, and that the Psychon brain stem was perhaps hardier "only" because it was also forced to help interrupt and restore normal body function on either side of transformation, rather than directly aiding in the actual transformations themselves. Maybe that was also why those with such an implant, even when in a severe accident such as a powerful shock from which most Dorcons would not regain life signs, sometimes would. The brain stems were of aid to the recipients.
In the many centuries since that time, Psychons had been pursued and captured, to confer key people with what was found to be extremely long life.
Oddly, the Dorcons, while they could be ruthless, preferred bloodless battles over wholesale slaughter, though they were perfectly fine with the latter if necessary. Likewise, they found taking apart a living Psychon rather distasteful, and rather than killing what was left, kept it alive until the rest of its body aged and died -- not realizing this was an even greater conceptual horror to their victims.
The Dorcons, like any people, had cultural quirks, arguably none greater than what they did and thought regarding Psychons.
It hardly mattered, for Dorcons were feared by many, and that fear alone was often useful, and to be encouraged just as ruthlessly with propaganda as with the occasionally-needed actual war.
Yet recently, the Psychons, already technologically adept but pushed back to their own world by Dorcon predation away from the greater protection of their planet, and hit with other alien attacks, had started outpacing Dorcons technologically, building powerful shielding technologies and increasingly-exotic defensive weapons. For centuries, it got more difficult to catch them, and no Psychon at all had been captured for a few decades, though they now kept close to home.
Unfortunately, all attempts in earlier times to create a viable breeding population of Psychons had utterly failed. Psychon females simply didn't seem to produce ova unless they consciously wanted to have a child. Further scans revealed it was not a matter of not producing an ovum, but rather that when it was being formed, before the final, haploid cell was viable, it would vanish, either displaced somewhere else in or outside of the body, where it quickly died, or gone altogether, removed to whatever "place" or dimension or such that Psychons could shift mass. It had to be a metamorphic trick that even the suppressor system could not prevent: such a deeply habitual, unconscious, or even instinctive action, and one so subtle and simple, on such a small scale, that even a Psychon who was not a full metamorph could do it. It was as if some metamorphic ability was nascent in all Psychons, even if they did not fully develop it, or even if the greater part of it was suppressed.
Attempts to solve this problem had proven useless. Trying to keep Psychon women unconscious did nothing to prevent that. If it was a skill learned consciously, it apparently became an unconscious ability almost immediately. More likely, the ability just happened unconsciously and the only conscious part was switching it off so that there could be a child at a point of choosing. Trying to set up an even stronger suppression field against even the most subtle metamorphic ability only quickly killed the test subjects, and was abandoned over the loss to Dorcons. Using telepathic individuals was utterly anathema to Dorcons, even when it came to their possible use against Psychons. Telepaths were simply not to be trusted, under any circumstances. Likewise, the exceedingly rare Psychon telepath was immediately killed on discovery, brain stem and all.
No more success was found regarding Psychon males.
Thus, on the biological front, Psychons had a partial defense; and on the technological front, they had been creating stronger defenses.
Meson converter technology, among other benefits obtaining it would bring, could make Psychons vulnerable again, and that alone was worth the price of the war with the Weyweq.
Curiously, there had been recent rumors among non-federated peoples that there were problems on Psychon. Most such rumors agreed that its surface was rapidly becoming volcanic. Attempts to investigate had been repelled by the Psychons, at high cost to both sides, more severe to the Dorcons despite the propaganda of a minor setback -- and no new Psychon prisoners. So the true status was unclear.
Thus, even the Imperial Archon of the Federated Worlds of Dorcon did not expect the news from his aged, trusted Consul.
"Archon, we have news that a weak hyperspatial disturbance was detected, by one of the newest technologies we developed. The disturbance originated near the Aliarda, probably from the Psychon system."
"What kind of disturbance?"
"The kind suggested by a sudden burst of gravity waves striking a star's edge of influence in hyperspace. We think a planet -- possibly Psychon itself -- exploded."
"Survivors?"
"No way of knowing. We would have to dispatch an expedition."
"At once. Prepare Fleet 1 and the flagship for my departure, but send standard probes first." The Consul could have protested the Archon's safety, but Archons were not foolhardy, testing the situation first with probes, and then other warships if needed, before the flagship would appear.
The probes were of an aging series, soon be replaced by completely new types. Dorcon capital warships and the flagship had not outwardly changed much over the centuries, though. Besides their appearance being recognized and feared, itself a benefit just on its own, the original architects of the capital ships had designed with the idea that the technology inside of them could change often and radically as new ones were built, yet could -- and should -- still retain that outward form of deadly beauty and incredible power. Dorcons were master builders, and their main line of capital ships and some of the smaller ones had been so well designed that their outward appearance remained practically immortal, even as they were quietly replaced from time to time with newer models which appeared virtually identical. It was the smaller fighters and probes whose designs were changed frequently, for tactical and strategic reasons.
"It will be some tens of days before we get there," the Consul said.
"I know what the travel time to Psychon currently is," the relatively young leader said impatiently, knowing the war with Weyweq could, if successful at obtaining meson converter technology, greatly speed interstellar travel too, shifting mass through space almost instantaneously.
If there were a few Psychon survivors in scattered, weak ships, there could be prizes for the taking. The Archon himself, his old but trusted advisor, key scientists, all could perhaps benefit -- perhaps the last Dorcons to do so, given the failure of breeding programs. Of course, all the Psychons could be dead. Or they may have fled.
The Archon was already impatient to know.
T-344 DAB 0635-0645: Eagle's Arrival
"Two minutes to Alpha," Alan announced over Eagle 4's internal commsystem. It had been more hours, and was now after 06:30 Lunar Time. The journey had been almost exactly 15 hours since Psychon's destruction.
John saw Maya look at Alan's image, and kept staring at the monitor even after Alan's image disappeared, with what seemed like a slightly mixed expression. Probably getting more nervous, he thought as he turned and walked up to the pilot module just as Alpha came into clearer view, he looked at his base, battered again. God, I hate seeing Alpha looking like this. Alpha was their lifeboat, and every hit was another hole to repair or patch. It was almost always one step forward, one back -- this time so close on the heels of other setbacks. He pointed out the one lit pad, but Alan had already spotted it, and indicated he'd give a short, coded light signal for an initial docking before the Eagle should be pulled down to hangar. John returned to the passenger module.
In a short time, they were safely on a pad, and everyone stood up. The sound of the boarding tube docking with the Eagle startled Maya a bit. She was a little jumpy, and looked like she was pushing back exhaustion as well. Helena quietly explained the docking tube, as John noticed Bill emerge from the pilot module first, followed by Alan, who stepped up to the commander.
"I've given Bill a full day off -- excepting any debriefing you require, of course."
"No debriefing today. There is a lot to do. Get some rest too."
"I hear that; but first, I better stay with Eagle 4 down to the bay for an hour or two. She--"
"Of course," John said, knowing the Eagle was banged up and needed proper procedures and instructions on possible damage. Turn-around time on damaged or heavily-stressed Eagles was a drill Alan had come to emphasize, and live by, even though this time, Alan looked as if he'd rather go with the rest, or get some rest, despite his own words.
"I will require everyone get a post-mission medical exam," Dr. Russell said. "Probably some time later today. You will be contacted."
Alan and Bill nodded. Just as Alan turned to return to the pilot module, they heard Maya's Psychon-accented voice speak up timidly from where she had stood up but not moved from.
"Excuse my impertinence in interrupting, but please wait."
Everyone stopped and turned towards her. Alan, thinking Maya had been addressing him specifically, gently asked, "What is it?"
She turned to John, however. "Commander Koenig, I know there is much to apologize for--"
"Maya, no--"
"But the least I could do first is ask... if you could please accept my apology over my calling you a liar. I did not listen and kept--"
"But you did listen, you did--"
"After repeatedly accusing you of lying," she said more insistently, "in front of your people, when it was me who was so terribly wrong."
John was going to protest again, about to say 'you did not know'; but her stricken expression showed him she was desperate for the small comfort of an accepted apology over her own words. Right now, maybe this was all she was ready to deal with. He hoped he was not setting her up for more guilt rather than less, when he finally said, "Apology accepted, Maya. Think nothing more about it."
She seemed visibly relieved, and looked at the door, with an expression he could not read. He was about to say "Come," but remembering that was her word before she had guided him to his first face-to-face encounter with Mentor, instead chose "Let's go."
Bill heard the apology too, and when the commander accepted Maya's apology, nodded to add his silent agreement, something Maya noticed.
Alan turned and headed up front again, while Maya took such a deep breath that everyone remaining could hear it clearly. Yet she moved with some surprising measure of calm and graceful dignity towards the door.
Bill, though, at the best angle to see her face, thought he could make out trepidation there, maybe even fear. Like she feels she's just as liable to get shot the moment she steps out of the Travel Tube into the main part of the base. He suddenly found himself remembering when he and Ray had nervously left the Eagle, stepped onto Psychon, and had made for a cave and into the initial tunnels. He banished the thought before it could hit his face, and instead smiled reassuringly at Maya. He had witnessed what she had done for those on the Eagle and Alpha, and would make sure he helped others understand it too -- probably starting right with Annie, who he knew would be waiting for him in the reception area. Maya noticed his smile, and though her expression barely changed, he thought she saw gratitude flicker in her eyes, before she looked away again.
Bill abruptly realized that Maya had large, expressive eyes -- not unlike Annie's in a way. The eyebrows were strange yet almost graceful; but the eyes themselves would hopefully serve Maya well. Hopefully she knew how to smile more too.
They all proceeded to leave the Eagle and enter the travel tube.
Maya looked around a little, puzzled to enter a small room, but deciding a few moments later it was a conveyance. She was not unfamiliar with the principle, for Psychon's cities, destroyed even before Psychon itself, had something with a similar purpose. As a child, she had found them to be a thrill. She took a seat in the alien version, and moments later, the conveyance started moving and accelerating. It even felt similar, of course; but instead of being like a thrill inside, it only seemed to tighten the tense knot in her stomach. They were approaching the first of the Alphans whom she had not directly helped.
The fact she had directly helped all of them, even if they had not seen it, did not occur to her. She only felt like she would immediately remind them first of the only other Psychon they knew, her mad and murderous father Mentor. She had repeatedly felt fear about this on the Eagle; but then, there had still been distance from the Alphan base. Now, she was on it, being whisked into the heart of the alien city. It was even more immediate. The Commander and Doctor had some earlier success soothing her on this point, but now, Maya did not know what the Commander could say to his people that would help.
Dr. Russell was relieved to get onto Travel Tube and call down to Medical Center. She turned the volume down, not wanting to upset Maya with casualty reports.
Dr. Bob Mathias answered. "We have one critical and two serious, one of whom was critical before I upgraded her overnight. Eight other casualties, but I released two of them already. All, including the most serious, are stable. We can do rounds whenever you are ready."
Helena was not surprised at the number of injuries, but was pleased to hear they were stable. She disconnected and sat down.
Helena knew Dr. Mathias had just given her a signal that he had things well under control until she was ready to return, giving her a chance to rest if she needed to. That he sometimes seemed annoyed if she came back immediately had sometimes left her a little concerned over whether this signal was simple professional courtesy and he was concerned about her not taking the opportunity to rest after a difficult mission, or a bit of professional pride that he had things well in hand and her rushing back was a sign that she didn't entirely have confidence in him. It was extremely subtle, though, and didn't seem to change much or go to a larger pattern, so she had decided to leave well enough alone, and take at least a little time for herself on most occasions, and be grateful she had someone she could trust.
It was her Medical Section, but even after decades of change in the world, some gradual and some sudden and difficult, there were simply some male doctors not used to being ordered by female doctors. Helena was used to having to push some weight, bring out a side of her some probably called "icy," and otherwise show that she could take and enforce authority as needed. By the time she had gotten the plum Alpha CMO posting, a prime role at the cutting edge, she had clearly demonstrated an array of talents, both medical and leadership. She had garnered enormous respect. Yet sometimes she felt cut off after Breakaway, both by her role and the sides of her personality she most needed to express to get to it. At Breakaway, she was one of only two female officers among several male officers. She had professional friendships on Alpha, but all her true friends were back on Earth. Breakaway had severed all her real friendships. Her husband had been lost for five years, officially presumed dead, and even Helena had given up hope of him being found.
She recalled how it had been no easy task establishing her authority on Alpha Moonbase's Medical Section, however.
The problem had not been Mathias, but his predecessor, Dr. Albertson, and that Albertson and Helena's predecessor, Dr. Mendelhoff, became best friends and let that influence their professional behavior, in troubling ways. Albertson got a lot of sway over the section, and rather than a disciplined but cordial section with some friendships, it partially devolved into a cheering section for Albertson's undemanding, friendship-above-all-else ways, getting the lower-level doctors and nurses on his side and Mendelhoff's. This gradually created politics between Medical and others, where Medical protected their own, and perhaps most importantly Mendelhoff and Albertson, when there were problems. When research efforts faltered a little, or minor general care complaints emerged, there were always other people or reasons outside of Medical to blame.
Before the problems could accumulate until the nature of the overall problem was obvious and the house of excuse cards collapsed into an ethics board inquiry, Dr. Mendelhoff suffered a myocardial infarction and retired to Earth, and was replaced with Dr. Helena Russell.
Her quiet joy at the posting was short-lived when this section almost immediately struck her as a little peculiar. She tried unraveling it; but while she could find no hard evidence she could use with a medical board, it became clear there had been problems, and much of the staff were somewhat resisting Helena's authority -- especially Albertson. Helena found herself in a conundrum. If she tried bringing this to the World Space Commission's Medical Authority about how deep and quiet the problems ran, with little in the way of hard facts, she might be mistaken as unable to deal with what they might think minor issues. The WSCMA would begin doubting her at once, and the ILC would be none too happy if she started demanding a lot of staff be swapped. On the other hand, if she constantly had to fight her staff, efficiency could go down rather than up.
Both ways would be a fight, but she was determined to create order out of chaos, rather than trying to "simply" replace people. She chose the hard tact, bringing out all her steely resolve and even adding to it, to enforce her will, in the process suppressing most of her softer manner, semi-consciously reserving what little she let be expressed for her "bedside manner" -- though even there, she found herself being dispassionate mostly, something doctors often had to do anyway to avoid getting to entangled with the problems people were going through.
Her steeliness, which could have rubbed a lot of her staff the wrong way, actually proved highly effective on most. It seemed the doctors and nurses of Alpha had apparently craved, perhaps more unconsciously than consciously, some sort of better order, rather than politics -- even though the latter could never be entirely avoided. People were people, after all.
Albertson had, not surprisingly, been the most resistant, and though she had eventually had him under a degree of control, it became clear he was sowing seeds of discontent even among the people she had been winning the respect from. So Helena's hand was finally forced. As she expected, her disciplinary actions did not prompt him to shape up, and he resisted shipping out. "No one wants to be knocked off Alpha, for only a few land on both feet after falling off the Moon," as the saying went -- 'Alpha' having both obvious and subtle meanings in the saying. Yet despite the threat of such, implicit in her disciplinary actions, Albertson's arrogance ran deep: that he, established for much longer on Alpha than her, could outlast her in such a challenge. Though not resentful to her face, it got back to her that he was creating problems elsewhere. Albertson had lost track that this was Alpha, one of the top posting locations in the medical profession -- arguably the top location nowadays -- and that his increasingly petty behavior was inappropriate on several levels.
So her other hand was forced, and she sought his replacement. She submitted her cause to the WSCMA. Though the WSCMA took up the case and soon showed signs of siding with Russell, it was when the WSCMA communicated intent to replace personnel with the ILC, who oversaw actual personnel changes on the Moon, that Helena discovered her timing could not have been worse.
She had known Commissioner Dixon had retired, and been replaced with Commissioner Simmonds. Both men had a reputation of being prickly and hard-nosed, but she had always had Dixon's respect, however distant it was, and did not expect that much difference with Simmonds, who was said to be a little less of a "money man" but no less demanding in many ways. She had no illusions of them being clones, but had not expected a major change.
What she had not known was that Simmonds and Albertson went way back. The WSCMA's actions, prompted by Dr. Russell's actions just before Dixon's short-notice retirement announcement, did not sit well with the new commissioner. Only a short time into his new role, he had apparently realized it would be none too wise to mess with something smacking of a conflict of interest, and recused himself.
Dr. Albertson was eventually replaced, with Dr. Mathias; but now instead of conflict with one of her staff, she was in conflict with the Commissioner.
Commander Gorski, though he had always been somewhat standoffish with her, had not had any say in the process, had never seemed to care much about exactly how the CMO ran the Medical Section, and as predicted, did not seem to care about these proceedings. He still only partially respected her, and Helena wondered if some of that was somehow subtle damage left over from Mendelhoff and Albertson, leaving an unconscious distrust in Gorski of the Medical Section.
So eighteen months after her posting to Alpha, as astronauts started dying -- the leading edge of phenomena that would soon blossom into the horror of Breakaway -- Helena found herself trying to get warnings out through two people who had little respect for her or what she was trying to say. Gorski's respect for her was not enough to extend into this crisis, and Simmonds had disliked her from the beginning.
That so many had died had preyed on her mind in those first few months after Breakaway, especially over the irony that in getting rid of the final "political" problem below her which were standing in the way of a well-ordered and efficient Alpha Moonbase Medical Section, her actions had unintentionally led to new "political" problems above her which stood in the way of getting her findings out through channels.
Desperate to save lives, she had considered back channels, as much as that could be career suicide. Suddenly, though, there was a new commander. They couldn't exactly scapegoat a CMO who was actually trying to pass on her findings and concerns, and had replaced the commander instead. It was a strange development she had not expected, and did not entirely understand. Recalling that commissioner replaced by commissioner had not really improved anything, and in fact had brought out new problems, she had approached the new commander with cold pure professionalism, not expecting any improvement, especially considering she did not entirely understand the reasons Simmonds and the ILC had replaced Gorski.
Surprisingly, she found a more sympathetic ear with the new commander; but though he quickly started to take sensible actions, events outpaced them, drastically.
In the months after Breakaway, however, she had come to see the consistency of Commander Koenig's respect for her, that he didn't just listen to her that once, but always did, even if he disagreed or had to take other actions. After fighting for so long to climb in the medical ranks, to get this posting, to create order within it, and against the ILC and Simmonds, she had slowly started to realize that she now had almost automatic respect from her staff, her superiors, and her peers. It was almost too much to get used to, and for awhile, she had continued in her same steely, sometimes icy mode; until, like someone who has been gripping a ladder for too long, too hard, is now finding herself with arm muscles cramping up, and having to fight herself to ease her grip a little.
She had even found Lee again, only to find he could no longer be her husband. The Lee she had known was dead, and now even in the records as such, replaced with a being she did not really understand, but whom had given her back everything. Her last, lingering hopes over Lee had faded, and she had found an unexpected "closure" in the vastness of deep space.
She had found herself relaxing around the new commander, even starting to fall in love with him in recent months, with new hopes growing.
Mathias was a fine doctor whom she realized had respected her from the beginning, so she found herself genuinely respecting him, and his quirks, just as he respected hers.
She had been stuck with the insufferable Simmonds as a patient for a few months, until he had doomed himself in a foolish act so far distant from his recusing himself over a conflict of interest, that she still wondered how he could fall so far so fast. Power could corrupt; but with him, it had started long before his posting as commissioner, she now figured. His recusing himself was only a necessary political act he had not been happy about, not a sign of true wisdom.
The last year, Helena had been witness to a vast amount of transformation in her life, and she was only now and in recent months starting to truly respond to it, to feel the transformation. Still, as much as some things had changed and were changing, that she had earned a lot of respect, and one man's love, post-Breakaway, she still often felt like she was in a lonely place. The signs of community that Mathias said were starting to appear little by little but faster and faster of late had not reached Helena yet. She had not had a true female friend since Breakaway had severed all ties with such back on Earth. She and Sandra sometimes talked, but they were more co-worker friends than true friends, and Sandra was quiet, had devoted a lot of attention to Paul, and now, without him, was withdrawn more than seeking new friends, and not so quick to rebound as she had been in the past. To Helena's female staff, she was Dr. Russell, their boss. To the other women on the base, she was Dr. Russell, the Chief Medical Officer. Helena had never really taken the time or effort, or felt in the right place, to try changing that.
The slowing of the travel tube thankfully brought her out of her self-indulgent thoughts.
Yes, there was no reason she saw to worry about whether Dr. Mathias was giving her a professional courtesy or was having a measure of pride in having the situation well in hand. There was respect between them, and compared to her early days on Alpha, she had comparatively little to complain about on that front, and had no cause to be concerned about Bob.
His signal was well-timed in any case, for she decided to take some more time and go with John to escort Maya to Command Center to meet Tony -- and probably Sandra as well. John had confidence in his recently-selected second, and Helena could see a lot of the reasons, but was not as sure about him as John, so wanted to help and to watch, and give Maya some support with her presence. The poor Psychon would probably feel increasingly abandoned if Helena went right to Med Center. Alan had already gone a separate way -- though Helena had thought he looked a bit conflicted about it. Bill was going to go his separate way as well.
So as much as she wanted to get to her patients right away, as always, she reminded herself that they were still Bob's patients at the moment, they were in good hands, and she wanted to make sure Maya stayed in good hands too.
John watched Helena quietly and quickly conversed with Medical Center, and continued watching as she sat down and got a very distant look in her face. He stared at her for awhile, thinking how lovely she was and how far they had come, that her distance towards him had faded, how they were falling in love. It was not something he had expected, but was certainly grateful for it -- and now again that they had both survived the harrowing Psychon encounter.
This only reminded him of the native survivor of the planet, poor Maya, and that he would soon be introducing her to the base. He thought over what he was going to say briefly, but knew he was as satisfied as he was going to be for the moment. Some parts of the speech would just have to be, as base-wide announcements often were, partially ad hoc.
John took in Maya's expression, which was rather hard to read at the moment, but noted it and how she sat with hands clenched together on her lap. She was looking around a little, without any appearance of curiosity and not making eye contact with anyone. She seemed somehow almost calm yet very nervous, maybe almost petrified. He tried to think of something to say, but just then, the travel tube started decelerating. Obviously not expecting the moment, Maya had to put out one hand to steady herself.
As soon as the vehicle had stopped, everyone stood up, Maya following suit silently. Bill, whom John had seen give Maya a reassuring smile earlier, now had only eyes for the door; and as soon as the doorway opened, he was first out of the tube, quickly turning to his left and disappearing from sight but not sound as there was a happy reunion with his wife. John had assured Annette Fraser that they would bring her husband back, and he was glad he they had managed to do just that.
John and Helena followed a couple of seconds later, John quickly giving a subtle, surreptitious "stand down" signal to the two on-duty guards, Bokessu and Giles. He quickly followed it up with the usual verbal "at ease," just as Maya followed him and Helena out, several steps behind.
Annette, still in Bill's arms, not kissing but looking towards the open door, saw the commander emerge. She was just starting to give him a look of gratitude for indeed bringing Bill back, when she spotted an unexpected blur of green, looked over, and gasped at the sight of an alien female. She had some facial features like a feminine version of Mentor. Mentor, who had haunted her thoughts since Bill's capture. It was like part of her nightmare had just walked right into Alpha, transformed yet the same, and Annette pulled away from Bill and backed up a step.
The alien turned to Annette, with what appeared to be an attempt to smile, which froze and vanished quickly after looking at Annette's face.
Commander Koenig looked ready to say something, but Bill jumped ahead, immediately taking up an introductory stance, calmly saying, "Annette, this is Maya. She helped us on Psychon," he said. "Maya, this is Annette Fraser, my wife."
Annette made no attempt to close any of the distance, but since Bill seemed relaxed about Maya and more concerned about Annie's feelings, she took a quiet breath, found a much calmer expression, albeit a tense half-smile, and said, "Hello."
"Hello," Maya repeated, with roughly equal expression and tone.
Bill noticed that Annie seemed anxious to leave, however, so as soon as John, Helena, and Maya turned and left the Reception area, Bill stepped towards Annie, took her hand reassuringly, and pulled her calmly away, walking side-by-side down the hall.
As soon as they were out of the others' earshot, Annie asked, "Is she real?" in an anxious whisper, then explained further. "I mean I was so scared for you when you were missing, and I despised Mentor so much from the first words I heard. It took me awhile to calm down a little, but then there was Directive 4, seeking to destroy--"
"Easy, both of us are okay now."
"Who is she?"
Bill paused, knowing this would floor Annie, but that he had to tell her up front. "Mentor's daughter."
She stopped in her tracks. "His daughter? Please tell me you are joking. Why would the commander bring Mentor's daughter back here?"
Bill felt -- hoped -- she simply did not realize what she had just said, and quietly said, "Maya helped us, and would have died there."
Annie opened her mouth, still looking angry for a moment, then closed it, her expression softening a little, saying, "No, I did not mean it that way. Is she really safe, though? Mentor lied, played tricks, broke his word, attacked us, killed...." She swallowed her words at that point, but before he could give a response, she managed to start adding, "What if she--"
"She did not know what her father was doing to us -- and when she realized, she freed us--"
"She let you go?"
"We were stuck in a prison cell, watching Alpha being attacked. You should have seen the humiliation and horror in her face when she realized what her father had been doing." He left out a lot of details about what Mentor had done, knowing now was definitely not the time, and that some details would probably be classified.
Annie was silent for a moment, and he realized she had clearly been rattled by everything, yet she was fast recovering, as he knew her to be. Thankfully, she did not ask for further details, and instead told him that she had some breakfast nearly ready in the room.
"You read my mind." After days on Eagle rations and an even worse nibble of a bar of some sort of bitter, slightly metallic-tasting Psychon food (colored just as orange as nearly everything else there), seeing Alpha attacked and fearing for Annie even more than himself, he was looking forward to sitting down to what would surely be a tasty meal, with his gorgeous wife.
Maya turned to follow behind the Commander and the Doctor. She had seen the fearful reaction of the Alphan female, and the large, two-handed weapons of the two Alphan guards. The latter had never raised one towards her, but one had been alert the whole time, and the other seemed somewhat more than just alert. As she walked down the wall, she could not help but tensing, half-fearing she was going to be shot in the back at any moment. She did not believe she would be, but did not dare look behind her, not wanting to provoke the guards in any way. Part of her thought that if most Alphans would want to shoot her for what her father had done, that they might as well get it over with; but most of her had trust in the Commander's word, the implication that most or all of the Alphans eventually would come to accept her.
Maya wanted the chance he gave her -- very badly wanted it. She wanted to live, to have at least a couple of friends, maybe more, to try to atone for what her father had done to these people -- a variety of reasons. Psychons were survivors.
Already, she had seen more curious sights: corridors in mostly light hues; the embrace of Bill and his wife; the two guards... one with light-colored skin like Maya's, but one with dark-colored skin like her cheek shading. She had not expected that. It seemed the Alphans were of at least two races, perhaps. She tried to recall aliens like that, but only knew it was uncommon. Most races in space were on different planets, sometimes warring with each other. That Alphans comprised at least two races already was a hopeful sign to Maya that perhaps they would come to accept her as another, even though she knew she might be partially or entirely different species instead.
She wondered why the word wife was not clear. Her linguistic knowledge of Alphan was incomplete, and if typical for the source material, probably most incomplete on technical matters; but other words were missing too, some apparently obscure, and some apparently basic. At first, when seeing Bill and Annette embracing, she thought they might be in a romantic relationship of some kind; but they had the same second name, Fraser, which seemingly implied a common ancestor. Since that part was the same for both, it was maybe not "Son of" of "Daughter of", but "Child of" -- or an implicit "Child of", and that "Fraser" was a parent's name. Then she remembered Commander Koenig had called Bill "Fraser" directly. Maya abandoned that line of speculation for now. Bill and Annette's basic embrace could have been between reunited siblings or between a reunited couple of some kind, maybe married. She would either figure it out later, or maybe just query.
They were heading towards a place called Command Center. She recalled her surprise when they had mentioned they were going to take her to what sounded like a key control center. She remembered them mentioning something about meeting a First Officer or Security Officer or some such title -- someone named Tony Verdeschi.
She wondered if Tony was the same man who, when Mentor was first communicating with Alpha, had briefly stepped into the filter'view she had been watching from out of sight, and in another form. After reverting, she could still remember what they looked like, and had responded to their near-Psychon appearance. Like the alien commander, that other man had looked attractive, even very attractive, for an alien -- but had also looked more than a little suspicious of her father. With good cause, she now realized.
T-344 DAB 0645-0700: Tony and Maya
Even as Eagle 4 settled onto its pad, after having given a brief and helpful visual signal, First Officer Tony Verdeschi dismissed a couple more operatives. It was still Yellow Alert, but it had been almost a day since Psychon's destruction, and no sign of alien activity, so he was continuing his gradual stand-down of Alpha. As he waited for the officers to return to Command Center, Sandra brought an update to his attention, so he walked over and talked with her, and was still doing so when the doors opened and he half-consciously heard what sounded like a few people enter. Thinking it might be the Commander, Tony finished the conversation quickly and turned, and started walking towards the two of them.
"John, Helena, welcome ba-- what the hell?" He now had clear view of a third person. Between and behind John and Helena, stood a woman unlike any he had ever seen. She was very striking but very alien, obviously Psychon -- the last thing he had wanted or really expected to see. Two thoughts jammed into his mind at once. Pretty. Prisoner? He immediately assumed she must have been captured on Psychon. But in Command Center, with no guards? His hand went for his sidearm, instinctively, but on picking up on a subtle stand-down signal from Commander Koenig, he did not pull the stun gun from its holster, though he kept his hand near it.
The alien woman had stopped only a step or two in front of the door, which had closed behind her. She closed her eyes briefly, as if she was thinking he was going to shoot her, then opened her eyes again and looked at him quietly, with a neutral expression on her face, mouth thin but not quivering, with eyes that were surprisingly pretty even with her unusual, upcurved eyebrows, so like Mentor's except for looking thinner, somehow very feminine. Her abundant reddish -- auburn? -- hair, done up in a bun held in place with long pins sticking out, curved to a point on her forehead. She had makeup or natural shading on her cheeks -- and maybe even on her ears too, though it was hard to tell from this angle. She was wearing a dress that was slinky, elegant, feathery, green and gray, and sexy on a surprisingly feminine body, slim yet shapely, graceful, fit, yet not necessarily overly strong.
He assessed her in barely more than a heartbeat, looking for any danger signs as his gaze returned to her face. His eyes locked with her eyes as he looked for any signs of a threatening reaction. Given what Psychons had just put all of Alpha through, he was not going to take a chance with this surprise survivor. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but just with the neutral expression, until she first put her hands together at waist level in a nervous gesture, then looked away, towards her right, seeming more than a little uncomfortable now about his stare.
It had barely been seconds since he had first seen her.
Maya had seen the Alphan male reach towards something at his belt, an object -- like a few in a rack on the Eagle -- she was now sure was a small weapon. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, please don't hurt me -- but she did not say it. Sure enough, it was the same man who had looked so suspicious about her father's "invitation" -- and he now clearly suspicious of her. If he was the first officer -- security officer? -- and really wanted to eventually shoot her, she probably wouldn't live for very long, as much as she still wanted to.
When she realized she was still standing, she opened her eyes almost immediately, and found he was still staring at her, first at her face, then looking over her body, then her face again. She looked at him as calmly as she could, especially when his eyes locked with hers, almost boring into her, until Maya, a little unnerved and unsure how to react to his stare, turned away.
Her eyes found those of an Alphan female, who was sitting at a computer console of some sort -- the room had a number of such consoles. The other woman had dark, very short hair, and was looking at Maya with what seemed like a friendlier look.
Maya tried to smile, but found it too difficult to do so. The woman nodded. Maya didn't know why. She looked around, and found a man and a woman at the back -- or was it the front? -- of the room, staying their distance, looking at Maya with expressions even harder to read given their moderate distance, but which together with them staying away, Maya read as probable wary distrust -- or fear. She turned her eyes back to Tony, hoping for a better reaction now.
When the alien woman broke eye contact, Tony looked at John and Helena, who were standing in front of the Psychon. They folded their arms in front of themselves, the Commander looking a little annoyed, apparently at the First Officer's reaction, while the Chief Medical Officer was half-smiling, her head turned a little towards Maya but looking at Tony, as if to say, 'be nice to her.'
So the Security Officer finally pulled his hand back a little from his weapon. The alien noticed, but did not otherwise react to it, and Tony finally said, "Who is she?"
John and Helena finally stepped apart from each other, with the former starting the introduction: "Tony, this is Maya, Daughter of Mentor. Maya, this--"
"Mentor's daughter?" he blurted. "What is she doing here?" he added without thinking, referring to an alien being brought straight to Command Center, but not realizing his words perhaps sounded more ominous, perhaps like, What is she doing on Alpha?
John looked more irritated now, as he said, "She helped us out. Maya saved us."
"Maya saved us," Maya heard, but her tired and shattered mind must have played a linguistic trick with the alien words, for they almost seemed to echo from her left as "Save Maya!" She thought the horrors of death and destruction in the Grove of Psyche were coming back as another quick daymare; but instead, for fleeting moments, it was almost as if her exhausted, confused mind were picturing her father were here, in the Alphan Command Center. Forgotten for the moment was the monster he had become. She remembered him as she had known him all her life before, looking at her with a father's strong but gentle eyes. In her mind, she reached out, and he stepped closer and responded in kind, grasping her wrist in a Psychon gesture of support or comfort -- of both now.
Maya, be brave, he seemed to say.
Father... her mind whispered silently, in pain.
You have strength. But give them a chance too. I saw honor and kindness in them as well, or I would not have entrusted them with your life.
She looked around her for a moment. They are afraid of me.
As you are of them. Trust can take time. Give them a chance, Maya, and let them give you a chance.
Her mind's image of him turned towards the main group of Alphans, and as she responded in kind, he seemed to fade away, a reverie vanishing smoothly, seamlessly.
"Maya, excuse my poor manners," First Security Officer Tony Verdeschi was just then starting to say. He took a couple steps towards her and extended his hand, in a gesture of greeting Mentor had taught her was common among many psychonoid aliens. Tony still looked wary, making her wary in turn, yet at the same time, she decided to accept the gesture as a small step in the right direction. Him reluctantly extending his hand was better than him shooting her on sight. So she took several steps towards him, and let him take her hand in his. What she did not expect was for him to shake it a little. He was still smiling, though, and she tried her best to do so in return as he released her hand.
"Maya saved us," John had said to Tony moments before. "I'll give the key details to the whole base in a minute. I know you went through a lot here; but she did not know, and when she did, she freed us."
During John's statement, Tony saw Maya look to her left, standing still, arms at her sides, a distant, unreadable expression on her face, as if not wanting to eavesdrop. Tony listened to John's words, and nodded. Tony had considered several scenarios as the Eagle was on its long return flight from Psychon's remains, and had dismissed them all, only for one part of it to come to pass. Though John was vouching for her, and some of Tony's guard dropped as a result, part did not, and he did not fully relax. Still, Tony wasn't going to last long in Command Center if he didn't keep some measure of the diplomacy the Commander wanted. As hard as it was for him to apologize to someone he was suspicious of, he had to make some amends here.
As he said her name at the beginning of his apology, she turned towards him, looking directly at him again, and he thought he saw some of her nervousness vanish as he apologized. He stepped forward and extended his hand. She stepped towards him, looking steadily at him from under those strange, bumpy, elegant eyebrows, while the... were they some sort of feathers?... on her dress moved silently in the air.
Oddly, he took this moment to realize how her facial features were vaguely cat-like, her eyebrows reminding him a little of a lynx, and yet was wearing a feathery dress that made him imagine, for a moment, her lifting up her arms and looking like she had wings. Catbird, he thought absently....
She let him take her warm hand in his, though when he shook her hand a little, her eyes widened in surprise in a way he briefly thought was pretty -- to his own surprise. He stopped the shaking, gave her a little bit more of a smile in case she didn't understand what the 'shake' part of the handshake was about, and let her hand go.
She managed a small smile in return, did not step back, and then said, "Apology accepted... Tony. Think nothing more about it."
At least she has some manners, he thought. Then again, so had Mentor, in a way.
T-344 DAB 0645-0700: Lightly Toasted
Alan watched the walls of the landing pad lift "rise" up past his view, as the Eagle was brought down towards the safety of its roost, the hangar bay.
Alan had actually wanted to go with the others. Something about Maya, and her clear nervousness, tugged at him. She would need friends, and he wanted to show support, but since she was in safe hands, his first duty was to see to this rattled bird, and the Commander had indicated his approval immediately.
The Eagle was still virtually cut off from Alpha even inside of it, due to the communications failure, so he could only sit back and enjoy the slow ride, and hope that the on-duty supervisor was at least following standard operating procedure and would have gotten the crack first-response maintenance/repair team active. He had little doubt Eagle 4 would take days if not more of work; but the first team was always the most important, for if another emergency arose that might require Operation Exodus, the first repairs could be the difference between a sufficiently flight-worthy bird and one that might not make it far. Eagle repair and maintenance was something he took very seriously, even before he had gained temporary oversight over the departments of Technical Section most directly involved with Eagle systems.
Since David Kano's death, the Technical officer's duties had been immediately split up while some role reorganization was considered. Science Advisor suddenly became a transitional role while a new Science Officer role had started taking shape. Too much out here in space, encountering planets and aliens, required extensive science experience, including technical know-how. Professor Victor Bergman had filled this admirably, but he was dead too. His role on Alpha had been unique, and he had often acted as if he had an officer's role, but the remaining command staff had not taken long after his death to realize there should be a formalized officer-level role. In the meantime, Science Advisor role became a transitional role, and Lew Picard, sometimes mentioned by Victor as a pretty good generalist and specialist in some areas, a department leader, and with some officer potential in the Commander's estimation, had become the Science Advisor.
While that discussion regarding Science Officer was taking place, and the massive move of many personnel to lower-level quarters, with abandoned upper-level quarters being repurposed, the Technical Section had already undergone some change. Since the officer ranks were thin and Picard's training was only begun, Technical oversight had been split. Reconnaissance's section lead, Alan Carter, took oversight of anything to do with Eagle systems repair and maintenance. Service's section leader, Sandra Benes, had taken over sections of Technical most involved with base systems, Main Computer, or general maintenance. Picard already had been a department leader before taking the now-transitional Science Advisor role, so he took lead of the extensive multi-department Research Unit, and some other science departments. Chief Medical Officer Helena Russell had taken a couple departments, including Chemical Manufacturing, which included the manufacturing of pharmaceuticals, something set up on Alpha relatively early on. Tony Verdeschi, already Security Section leader and now First Officer as well, took a couple departments and teams.
Not everyone had expertise in all the areas they were taking for now; but the main need was leadership in the interim. It was a tougher schedule, but it was prompting the officers -- also on the urging of the commander -- to also delegate some more, forcing them to find those with most leadership potential to take some of the load. That Alan wasn't so sure of the one currently in lead of Eagle Maintenance was starting to be more of a concern....
Alan had been an officer for awhile, yet he also felt like there had been some transition in his role, not just recently, but over the last year, that he wasn't just the Chief Pilot and Recon Officer, but one of Alpha's leaders. Still, Alan found it ironic that he had been given oversight of some of Technical Section's departments. He had butted heads with Technical people, not to mention David Kano himself, on many occasions. Alan was often impatient with the gearheads, even though he had some technical skills himself. Yet when temporarily splitting oversight of Technical had come up, he had offered to take the Eagle-related departments of Technical, and the Commander had accepted the offer.
Alan was brought to the present when the lift settled, and he soon heard -- felt -- the lifting apparatus latch onto the Eagle's spine. He watched quietly as the Eagle was brought carefully into the hangar. As soon as it was set down, he unlatched his harness, stood up, went into the pod, hit the button to extend the stairs, and waited by the door.
Out of the clutter of routine sounds inside of an Eagle pod, the pilot easily recognized two brief tones when they came: one from the Eagle pod's detectors that pressure was equalized, and one relayed from the pilot module to the pod that the former had detected the same condition. It was useful redundancy. Usually, there was a third, relayed by the Eagle receiving a signal from the hangar's systems, that it had finished pressurizing. He didn't expect that signal to come -- given the assumed damage to the Eagle's communications systems -- and it did not. Two was plenty, so he opened the door, and saw the Technical team approaching from the distant airlock from which they had entered.
Good, someone's on the ball. He, meanwhile, immediately came down the steps and started a walk-around. He soon nodded, already finding the first signs of damage he had expected. The others also saw it as they got closer, of course. The scorch marks: not severe -- almost subtle, actually -- but still apparent from close up.
"Whew, looks like you got a little cooked," one tech said as he got close.
"Were you in one of those volcanoes?" another asked jokingly.
"Yes," Captain Carter said, grimly.
"What, you're serious?" the first replied.
"Yeah, an inactive one, until the end began."
"How did that happen anyway? Psychon blowing up?" the second asked. "The nuclear Eagle was intercepted."
"We had a little help."
"From what?" one asked.
"From whom?" another asked.
"I... reckon Commander Koenig will be explaining very soon. Let's get to work." Even before he had temporarily taken over part of Technical, whenever a technical team was seeing to Eagle work, they were his to give orders regarding immediate duties. What was gone for now was having to coordinate with the Technical Officer, though at least that had never been a problem for immediate post-mission work. "Check everything for stress damage before any separations are made -- and I mean all load-bearing and coupling points and main superstructures. We were caught in a magnetic vise at one point, then later shaken up by the planet's destruction. Also check the hull for all meteorite damage. I know we took some. There were no hull piercings of pressurized sections, but there may have been some elsewhere, and the comm array was likely damaged. I want the pings cataloged, regardless of severity, and correlated against lists of previous nicks."
"How much fuel is in the spine booster?"
"About 10% remains. We used 50% early on, then another 40% escaping Psychon's destruction, before the booster failed, cause unknown. Make it safe in place, but otherwise leave it be until the remaining assessments are made."
"Sir?" one of the military-side technicians asked.
"Yes?"
"We lost Eagle 1, right?"
Alan was pretty sure Tony would have announced fatalities by now; but no one discussed fatalities right in the hangar. That was for the funeral, or the wake, or for toasts in their memory at the Eagle Aerie club, or elsewhere. Even with civilians mixed in among the technicians and increasingly the pilots, everyone made sure this was clear. The pilots had suffered a lot of fatalities already, and the hangar was not the place to dwell. Now, it was just them wondering about lost ships.
"Yes, Eagle 1 was apparently damaged on its initial capture, and could not be repaired on site in the moments we had." He thought back for a moment....
He quickly suspected Mentor had done something to Eagle 1, for it refused ignition, the computer claiming a major component was missing. At first, Alan assumed that meant it was "merely" damaged in such a way that it read as if it were not there, rather than just non-functional. Then he wondered if it was literally true, that perhaps Mentor had done something to the ship. That worried him about Eagle 4 then -- for all of two seconds. He received a signal from Bill that Eagle 4 was active and ready to go, after which point, Alan was not so sure what was wrong with Eagle 1.
The quaking was worsening. Something catastrophic was happening to the planet, or at least this part of it. It was a good sign in one way, that John had probably been successful stopping Mentor and disabling or destroying Psyche; but a bad sign they could soon be in peril of destruction anyway. At least Alpha would be safe. He continued his efforts, wanting everyone off this planet -- hopefully with both Eagles in flight.
He tried every step he could think of, even as the inside of the volcano's walls started exploding more, sometimes briefly gouting fire onto the floor of the volcano. Alan still stayed with the Eagle a few more seconds, until his instincts told him time was running out and main motors probably weren't going to start.
Instead of slamming his fist down on a panel of the stubborn or simply broken Eagle, he had set his hand down on it gently for a moment, hating to abandon a beautiful machine which could have could have perhaps been saved with a little more time. He then quickly opened an internal panel, yanked out the portable memory bank, raced out of the pilot module, and as the outer door started opening, stuffed the three stun guns remaining on the weapons rack into jacket pockets -- the laser rifle was gone -- almost flew down the stairs and raced across the roiling surface of Psychon.
He had found Bill and Helena at the door of the Eagle 4, ready to run out and rescue Alan perhaps. Alan barely got up the stairs and inside the open door, when they all saw John and Maya running towards the Eagle, John holding Maya's hand, pulling her along, even as she looked about, probably at the other ships littering the area -- further evidence of the horrors her mad father had perpetrated on various aliens. Alan knew then that Mentor had to be dead and the volcano or the planet was about to blow up around all of them. He quickly dropped the hardened memory bank onto the floor to close the door against a fireball, reopening it seconds later to help the two on board, Alan reaching for Maya and saying, "Here!" as John pushed her up the final two stairs, ahead of him. The last five sentient living beings left on Psychon were boarded on the only remaining working Eagle.
"We had to abandon it to its destruction on Psychon," he finished, leaving out everything else, but adding, "All I got was the memory core. It is sitting on the floor, just inside the door, unless it moved some as we were kicked about. Send it to Records for data dump, and have them reroute it to the component store."
"What a waste," one technician said simply.
"Damn Psychons," Alan thought he heard someone mutter to a third.
"More insane aliens," the third said quietly.
"Did I not give all of you enough work already?" Alan demanded on hearing the last two comments.
That brought a set of "sorry, sir" and "yes, sir" responses, so Alan left his reprimand at that and dismissed them to task, and they immediately went about it. Alan was a jovial, "just one of the guys" type -- when the work was getting done properly and everything else was in order. If something was amiss, Captain Carter was definitely military, and definitely in charge. This was something the civilians among his crew sometimes tripped over. Even with a mixed civilian/military team, the civilians under his temporary command during repair and maintenance, he went to military form, threatening to mete out punishment to the whole unit for the transgressions of part. This, of course, helped induce peer pressure within the unit, which usually solved the problem without needing to waste his time intervening further. It usually worked well.
At the moment, it was troubling to him that the "damn..." and "insane..." references were not to Mentor but to his people and aliens in general. They had been in interstellar space for too long, with men who knew they were likely never going home, and whom too many aliens had attacked. It was perhaps not a good sign for poor Maya, despite what she had done.
T-344 DAB 0700-0730: Difficult Speech
Sandra had seen Maya reacting nervously to Tony's intense stare, Maya's eyes turning away from his and finding Sandra's instead. She found the alien's gaze to be unthreatening, and when the Commander now signaled her forward, Sandra stood and did so willingly. She had already long before read John and Helena's body language as accepting of Maya, and had just heard his words to Tony. Sandra had no problem accepting that Maya was to be welcomed to Alpha.
She gave Maya a warm greeting, with a pleasant smile. Maya returned a tiny smile and a pleasant thank you. She had seen Maya try unsuccessfully to smile before, probably made too nervous by Tony's reaction, but now looking a little more relaxed after Tony's apology and handshake.
She couldn't help but wonder what Paul would have thought of the alien woman and why she had ended up here. Paul had usually been calmer, and would have likely taken Maya in stride. Paul had not been the warmest man, nor the coldest, just reserved. Sandra missed his steady calm.
John felt pleased with Sandra's response, and now signaled the two operatives keeping their distance to step forward and greet Maya. Neither seemed so enthusiastic, but came forward. John let Helena carry out the introductions, while he took Tony aside, away from the rest.
"Tony, she will need someone to guide her around Alpha, and to see to her safety."
"Uh, okay; but I still object to you bringing an alien to Command Center. Shouldn't she be considered an unknown threat?"
"She is not a threat, and not an unknown in that way. I know what she did for us, and you'll hear me announce it to the rest of the base."
"Fine, but she could have been detained somewhere, like Medical, until I had a chance to assess her."
"You're not listening. She deserves gratitude, or tolerance and politeness at the very least, not detention or assessment as a security threat. I assured her she would have a place here." Almost as soon as John said it, he knew that would probably not go over well.
"John, I didn't think that place should have been here in Command Center."
John was getting tired of beating around the same subject. Tony had calmed somewhat, and John could see he was not going to attack Maya, but was still protesting. So John decided to be blunt. "Fine," the commander said, "your objection is duly noted. Are you going to see to her safety, or not?" he said very quietly yet firmly.
That stung Tony a little, especially so soon after he had set Sandra back in her place regarding the awful necessity at the time of Directive 4, the decision to bomb Psychon with John, Helena, Alan, and others still there. His thoughts turned defensive. Sandra let her emotions run away with her, again, offering up desperate-sounding suggestions which made no operational sense. Mine are calm objections over simple safety and caution. He took a breath. "Of course I will see to her safety. I never meant otherwise."
"Good. Now give me a summary of casualties and damage."
Helena caught Maya staring at Tony as the latter talked with John, a concerned look in the Psychon's expressive eyes.
"Sorry, Maya, but Tony sometimes overreacts a little in the first moments. I know the Commander is talking to Tony just to make sure he is over it." Maya looked at Helena, but did not ask the question in her eyes, so Helena added: "John is a good judge of character. If he continues with the plan we discussed, then that means he is certain about Tony, and you can be certain too."
"I understand," Maya said, seeming less immediately concerned, even though some of it still remained.
John's expression was grim as he finished talking with Tony, knowing what he had to do next. Helena and others told him he was a good orator, but was not necessarily comfortable about it. It was occasions like this that he hated it; but at least he was the bearer of a little good news too, even if some might take it as more bad news. He was usually kept such somber messages brief but substantive, but the longer list of losses this time, and a gain who would take a little more explaining and was probably going to be controversial no matter what he said. This was going to be a longer and more difficult speech, on all counts. It would not be easy for any of them, including their new crew member. "Maya, some or much of this announcement may be painful for you to hear, including some information you have not heard before. I truly hate to do that after everything; but I think it is best for me to direct about some things."
"Commander Koenig, please, say what you wish, whatever you need to," she said quietly, humbly. "My feelings in this matter are not important."
"Yes they are," he immediately countered, "I want you to know that, which is why I have warned you." Then without waiting for her reaction to that, he turned to Sandra -- who was looking at Maya sympathetically -- and signaled her to start the camera and base-wide broadcast. He stepped over to the usual spot; and a few seconds later, she signaled for him to proceed.
"Attention all sections Alpha. This is Commander Koenig." He paused, then continued. "Once again, as you know, we have been hit by tragedy. The official fatality count stands at four: Ray Torens, Lew Picard, Roger Hayes, and Jane Clemens. There were eleven other casualties, including two serious and one critical. Some have already been released, and probably a few more in the next few hours. A full, updated list will be posted shortly. Events were difficult here and for us on Psychon, but we have gotten through it, and as on some previous occasions, for some unexpected reasons. This time, we actually have a new friend to thank, and I wish to introduce her."
He signaled Maya, who had been losing some of her fragile composure, but now managed to put on a brave face -- which was perhaps the best thing she could have done -- to step into the camera's view. She did so, giving the rest of Alpha its first view of a second Psychon.
"This is Maya, Daughter of Mentor." This time, he did not pause, not wanting the sight of her face or the sound of her extended name to sink in too far before he got to the rest. "I know what your reaction almost certainly is; but I want to make it immediately clear that Maya in no way participated in Mentor's attacks on us here or at Psychon -- nor did she have knowledge of them. She was surprised by our accusations, but we convinced her to check out our story, and when she did, she immediately released all of us, and assisted me in trying to stop her father's actions. I destroyed the technology Mentor was using for his attacks, but the freed energy redirected against Psychon itself, leading to its destruction. Mentor refused to leave, but asked me to take Maya to safety. I am officially welcoming Maya to Moonbase Alpha, not as a guest, but rather as a new member of our crew and community. Please do your best to make her feel at home. Everyone will eventually get a chance to meet her over time."
He motioned with his hand that she could step out of the frame, which she promptly did. He continued.
"A memorial service and funerals will all be arranged at an appropriate time, and we hope and pray for the recovery of everyone else. It has been a turbulent and tragic few days, and recovery will be difficult; but as always, I have every confidence in the strength of the people of Alpha." He paused again briefly, then concluded, "That is all."
Sandra broke the connection, and though the commander did not outwardly sigh, the weight of command never felt heavier than at this moments.
Maya had remained stoic through the middle part of the speech; but now, there were tears in her eyes.
"Sorry, Maya, but as I said before--"
"No. Thank you, Commander. It was a very warm welcome given the circumstances. I appreciate your words very much. I am just sorry so many of your people died."
"I know, and I realize it is difficult, but I meant what I said." She seemed to relax slightly, but she still seemed nervous. Neither of them was under any illusion acceptance would be instantaneous. He was happy to see again that she welcomed the chance. Though in some shock, she seemed to be a fighter, just like the Alphans.
"Helena, why don't you and Tony escort Maya to Medical Center to rest for awhile?" He left it vague, for Helena to decide on whatever she saw fit for rest and tests. "Maybe before that, uh, for all of you to swing by Stores to arrange for some clothing, plain sleeve for now. Sandra, I will talk to you later about other arrangements. Oh, and Tony, a brief word first."
John was already missing his spacious private office from Main Mission. Here, to get to his current office or the meeting room was still a walk out and down a short hall. But this was going to be brief, and they simply went to the other corner of Command Center. John started talking to Tony quietly.
"Tony, are you okay with her now?"
"Well, I just met her, and do not know her, but you trust her. Sorry about my initial reaction. I shouldn't have jumped like that."
It wasn't an entirely-convinced sounding response, but it was improved over before, and John decided his idea was good. Maya would be in safe hands, even if Tony did not entirely trust her; and maybe this way they'd get used to each other. "Okay, I am glad to hear all of that. Go easy on her. She is still in shock, and this base is still in shock, and as much as I hope my words convince others--"
"I know what you mean, and the same thought occurred to me. You have my word I will watch out for her safety."
"Your section might not--"
"I meant personally. Her safety will be my direct responsibility, and only mine, at least until I know which of my people I can trust with her too."
That was the officer Koenig thought Verdeschi was: he could toss in some protests, or some jokes; but when it came down to it, he was serious about his duty. "Okay, once you get Maya to Medical Center, you may want to call down Bokessu to officially meet her. He seemed to be calm around her. Giles not so much."
"Okay, thanks."
"Greg Sanderson?" John asked.
"Already relieved of active duty for now, for bereavement."
"Good. And Tony, give Maya a chance to prove more than 'alright.' I know you reserve judgment, and don't let me tell you not to; but to just let her have a chance to impress you with her courage as she did me, okay? She gave up everything to do the right thing."
Tony nodded yet made a non-committal sound.
John knew Tony well enough to recognize Tony's last response as a I will give her a fair chance, but she still has to convince me too. John had hoped for more keenness from Tony on giving Maya a chance, but his being put through a wringer on his first command situation, mostly of Mentor's making, and the 'his daughter?' reaction showed he wasn't quite ready to fully trust her, just to a degree based on Koenig's words. His initial reaction was hotheaded, but his current one was much cooler. Neither was quite what John had hoped, but the latter was far better, since as much as John now felt responsible for Maya's safety and care, just like that of anyone else on the base, he had to delegate again.
"What?" John asked, broken from his reverie by something Tony had just said.
"I just wonder if our part-time tailor will want to deal with Maya. She just lost her best friend."
"Jane Clemens was her best friend?"
"Yeah."
"Well, see how she reacts. You can always go to one of her trainees after that." Damn, John thought, hoping that would not be necessary. It was the tailor's other roles that he hoped Maya would be interested in talking to her about--
"Fine. Anything else?" Tony asked.
"No, go ahead, take care of Maya."
Tony gave him a look, like, Yeah, I already got that point.
Tony, Helena, and Maya left, Tony taking up position on Maya's right and Helena on Maya's left as they escorted her from Command Center -- analogous to how John and Helena had escorted her to Command Center.
As he wandered over to take his seat, the commander took stock of Sandra being the only other officer here. Tony and Helena had just left; Alan was at the Eagle hangar. The ranks of senior officers were thin -- junior officers even thinner: one, namely Sandra.
He started discussing base status in more detail with Benes. Verdeschi had ordered the Engineering department to assess the damage, and they had reported back that it was like nothing they had seen before. When Sandra conveyed their hypothesis about the nature of the damage, she said it with incredulity in her voice. Yet their idea was actually not far from the truth. John would have to talk with Chief Architect Karedepoulos himself.
"Commander? Tony lowered us from Red Alert to Yellow Alert, on which we remain." So concerned had John been about Maya in Tony's hands, that both had forgotten the security brief.
"His reason for staying at Yellow?" Koenig asked, already having a good idea, but wanting to make sure he didn't overlook some other concern of Verdeschi.
"Potential for further attacks by any Psychons remaining elsewhere in the system."
He considered it for barely half a second. The time elapsed since Psychon's destruction, some of the implications of Mentor's words beforehand, his plea for John to save Maya, her heart-breaking "Everywhere but on Psychon, I'll be an alien!" words, and lack of a plea afterwards to contact other Psychons. His thought process was quick but thorough.... "I am certain Mentor and Maya were the only Psychons who were still resident. Terminate Yellow Alert and begin or continue returning to normal patterns." That did not mean to totally relax, as there could be other threats, especially any curiosity seekers who might have detected Psychon's destruction and perhaps want to have a look at what was left; but the immediate chance of such was not really much higher than a threat out of the blue at any other point.
They discussed distribution of casualties from the attack, Sandra putting up a diagram on the big screen. Then Sandra mentioned that Mentor somehow got his image all over Alpha.
John had not been aware of that before. "Was he breaching our security or was some connection left open?" John asked.
"We're not sure."
John was pretty sure, though. The first time they saw him, Mentor's image had simply appeared on the big screen, without any discussion of an incoming signal.
They discussed the damage at the Eagle pad, and a few more things. It was a wearying list, yet in many ways shorter than it could have been. Finally, John proceeded to assign Sandra the task of finding Maya appropriate quarters. "Single quarters, new standard. Find her a friendly spot. Coordinate with Tony in whatever way makes the most sense to both of you."
John could see the question on her face, like, How will I know a 'friendly spot' before she has met anyone? She said nothing though, and nodded. Sandra, as quiet as she often was, more so nowadays, had one of the stronger grasps of anyone on all the personnel on the base. It had been part of her pre-Breakaway duties, but various post-Breakaway steps had prompted her to get to know everyone better. If anyone could look at maps of names and find a likely spot for Maya to settle at, it was Sandra. Tony had a similarly strong grasp, but for other reasons, mostly Security-oriented. Right now, having Sandra thinking up the place and Tony reviewing it, made more sense than having Tony pick and Sandra likely no say.
He then left Command Center. It was time to visit the casualties recovering in Medical Center, then to start surveying the damage and talking to the engineering and repair crews -- as soon as he made a quick visit to quarters to change.
It was going to be another long day. It had already been a long day.
T-344 DAB 0645-0730: Bill and Annette
Annette had indeed started preparations of some food using the small vertical food station in the back of the room. She now put the food in the microwave and got the rest ready, while Bill immediately went for a needed bath, Annette telling him he looked tired and should just change into pyjamas when he was done. He decided to take a quick shower instead, deciding a longer bath could wait.
Just as he re-emerged into the main part of the room, he noticed two things at once: the wonderful smell of real food -- at least more real than anything he'd had for a couple days -- and that Annette was in pyjamas too.
Just then, however, the commander came over the commscreens in the room, listing the deceased, and introducing Maya to the base as a whole. He watched Annette's reaction, but there was little, and when it was over, she gave no opinion. Bill did not force the issue. It had been an awkward meeting between the two women, to say the least, and it was best just to let it sink in.
When she looked back at him, there was a bit of concern in her eyes, for him. He could see questions in her eyes, perhaps about Psychon, perhaps about him losing his co-pilot, Ray. Yet perhaps she had the same thought, about not wanting to push anything, at least not now, for she said nothing, instead moving to put the food on the table.
He needed no further prompting to sink into the seat at the small table, opposite his beautiful wife as she sat down too. They enjoyed the meal, mostly in simple silence, just looking at each other a lot, and talking about a few topics from a few days before. Near the beginning and then near the end of the meal, he complimented her on the food, even as he started feeling the fatigue by the time he ate the last of it.
He soon went to bed, Annette joining him. For awhile, they simply lay in each other's embrace, both feeling relieved they were safe and together again. Yet, despite the fatigue and the simple comfort, it wasn't long before they started kissing and seeking out other comforts too, perhaps in further affirmation they were alive and together again....
T-344 DAB 0710-0800: Eagle Techs
Alan was expecting the Commander's announcement and quickly halted everyone's work so they could listen over their commlocks or the screens on the nearby hangar wall, whatever was most convenient. He carefully watched the reactions of the Eagle technicians present.
Though it was hardly military of Alan, he had learned that with a tour of duty that was essentially permanent into the foreseeable future, that some leeway was required, within limits that Alan carefully kept tabs on. Yet, since some troubling words had already been said, Alan was ready to jump in. The two who triggered Alan's admonishment earlier had dual reactions, one looking upset about the new Psychon, the other seemed to smile, perhaps accepting the commander's words, or finding her pretty, or both.
It was another technician, who had arrived a couple minutes after Carter had finished admonishing the main group, that let loose, however. "The Commander brought a Psychon back here?"
The others immediately cringed, wondering if this new outburst was going to compound everyone's workload.
Alan was all over the new comment. "Hey! Didn't you hear the Commander? If it wasn't for Maya, we would all be as cooked as the Eagle. Maybe I should have everyone scrub off, by hand, the burn marks, and repaint it with an artist's brush?" He kept it vague who the 'you' was, both in words and in moving his glance around. He did not clarify his 'maybe' either. This was no bluff. If such comments didn't cease, he would ask Bill if he could borrow some of his wife's paintbrushes a few days later, to use for several hours or a day or more, and that would be the end of this nonsense.
"I believe the Commander," one of the civilians offered into the vacuum which followed.
The one with the complaint glared at the last, but said nothing as Alan looked at them, then apologized to everyone, turned his head away, and got busy.
Though Alan had wanted to go with John and Helena in support of Maya, he had discovered he had needed to do the same here, after all.
With the announcement made, it was time to track down the head of the Eagle Maintenance department, part of Technical Section but now under Carter's oversight, at least for now. First, he walked across the bay to the shift supervisor's "office" -- which was mainly a desk on the other side of the airlock, with a large open window to view the bay.
With someone having been on the ball getting a team here, he thought it was probably a shift supervisor, rather than the department head; but the supervisor indicated Garforth had called the first team in. Captain Carter wasn't sure whether to be surprised by that or not. Pete Garforth was not an incompetent department head, and Alan actually liked the guy as a person, and thought he was a great technician. It seemed, however, like he had been promoted too young, and his managerial aptitude had been slipping ever since Breakaway, in Alan's blunt opinion.
Alan's having taken over this department meant that review files had been opened to him, and having been annoyed with Garforth, not over his technical skills, but his leadership skills, Alan was curious to see what David Kano had said. Garforth had been promoted from repair tech to a supervisor to the department head. Kano's comments had started out with statements about Garforth being "technically very competent" -- high praise from Kano -- and "a good supervisor" -- not a terrible mark, to "technically very competent; an adequate dept head whom Cmdr. Gorski has high opinion of but whom must be encouraged constantly by Capt. Carter."
Alan had chuckled ironically at that, for the perceptive truth from someone not normally known for his people skills, but still clearly a leader. Garforth had been a second-wave father, one of those Alan had heard Helena call a group of couples acting at the "height of irresponsibility" in deciding to start a family just months -- apparently weeks in his case -- after Breakaway. It seemed Garforth could only handle the idea of one major responsibility in his life, for after being adequately responsible in his work but not personal life given the results, this then flipped. Even before the child was born but now especially in the six weeks since his child had been born, Pete was apparently very responsible in his home life, but to the virtual exclusion of his work life -- though he had no problem leaping into technical work even now. The last was his one constant strength. However, his skills as a supervisor, what he had started with, were evaporating even faster now.
Annoyed that Garforth hadn't even shown up here, even after he had put in the call for first team, Alan was about to call him directly, when the door to the office opened, and he came in, looking flustered and tired, probably up all night with the kid -- a consistent appearance. Here's a father who can't figure out some way of balancing things.
Garforth did promptly fill in Alan with more details about the lost combat Eagle, after a Garforth's question of "You know about Hayes, right?" Alan nodded, and asked about the salvage potential of the Eagle. Garforth's answers were... adequate. Pete did at least think to fill him in on one thing well: "Mr. Carter, have you heard that Diane Bell was critically injured?"
"No, I had not. Any details?"
That was difficult news to hear, and Pete filled in what little extra information was generally known, that she had been caught in a partial ceiling collapse.
Alan shook his head sadly, then shook it off for now, a few responsibilities to consider. At first, he was thinking of heading back to Eagle 4 briefly to make sure all was going smoothly, when one of the techs, the last loudmouth who had prompted Alan's threat of artist's paintbrushes, came into the office with Eagle 1's memory core, the last left of that ship. Alan asked the much subdued tech how it was going in the hangar, was satisfied with the answer, gave some further instructions on salvage to Garforth, dismissed both the tech and department head, and then left. Earlier, before news of Diane, he had been intending to return to quarters; now he decided to head to Medical Center, then quickly reckoned ten minutes in his quarters before that, to change and such, would be in order.
By the time he got to Med Center, he could see John was already there. Alan first got news that Diane was conscious, though not very much, being on pain meds and suffering from a lower spinal injury and some possible organ damage. She was still critical but stable, but prognosis on both counts was unclear at this point. He tried to cheer her up, and she tried to smile, though she said the doctors said she might need surgery, and might never walk again.
They had been attracted to each other at one time, but Alan thought it inappropriate to try initiating a relationship, even before he had direct control of the Eagle Maintenance department, for he often did give orders fairly directly to them -- and her. Either she understood this in some way, or was waiting for his first move which never came, for she hadn't pushed it either. After he started a relationship with Martha Williams, Diane's signs of interest had amiably faded, and so had his feelings for Diane, reverting to where they had started: respect for her skills as a tech and her potential advancement. Diane had been an inspector for awhile, and occasionally was a hangar supervisor, a rotating role among those capable of it. He had been close to recommending Bell as a replacement to Garforth, to let the latter return to his core skills, or find another, non-leadership outlet for his technical skills. Now that was all in doubt, even if she lived.
T-344 DAB 0700-0745: The Nuclear Tailor
It was early in the morning, when Janina "Joan" Conway, PhD physicist, supervisor of Nuclear Generating Area Two, researcher with her own lab -- and Alpha's lead tailor -- woke up.
Every morning she awoke, she sooner or later thought of the irony of her strange combination of roles on Moonbase Alpha -- but not this morning. She woke up sick, feeling the vacuum caused by the loss of her best friend, Jane Clemens, at the distant hands of the Psychons, who had attacked the base with some mysterious weapon.
Though the base had still been on Yellow Alert last night, the first officer had released most people from immediate duty, and Janina eventually had to get some sleep, despite the previous chaos. Chaos it had been: nearly having to shut down her reactor after the Psychon attack shook the base, dealing with various small alerts from the system, advising another Nuclear Generating Area, taking in the horrifying news of her lost friend, and trying to comfort Jane's fiancé even as she felt her own pain.
Washing her face right away after awakening, the pain was vivid and felt almost as immediate, and when she looked up, Janina saw it reflected in the mirror's image of her face. She looked away, not wanting to see that pain in her own face, since she was already feeling it badly enough.
Still, a sense of duty took over. She walked back to check her electronic memos and posts. Blear-eyed, she paused on seeing her name on the main screen:
logged in: Joan Conway
She had been called Joan Conway so long by so many she sometimes had to say "Janina" aloud to herself just to hear it again. No one had called her that since Breakaway.
Her father, a British national, worked so frequently in Poland he had fallen in love with a woman there, eventually took up residence, dual citizenship, and married. Janina had been the second child -- and last after Janina's very difficult birth nearly left her mother dead and prompted strongly-worded medical advice that she not have another. This had been followed less than a year later by the death of their first child, Janina's brother, at age seven, after he ran into the street chasing a football and was struck by a speeding automobile. Janina had no memories of him except the pictures she was shown and the stories she heard when she was old enough to understand. Somehow, her parents had avoided lingering too long under the cloud, yet had also resisted the urge to spoil their only remaining child. They gave their energies, but despite her father's good means, they didn't heap gifts of monetary things on Janina -- though they had given her some wonderful presents over the years. It was the gift of their time, energy, good parenting, and love that she eventually realized had been their best.
All along, she was called by three names so equally often: her mother affectionately nicknamed her "Janka" and her father similarly called her "Joan" -- both variants of Janina -- while most of her other relatives and friends in Poland called her Janina. She was accustomed to all three, equally. Her maternal grandmother, a woman with the sole farming roots in the extended living family, also called her Janka, and had spent a lot of time teaching her how to make clothing, despite Janina only having mild interest in it. Her mother, despite the same lessons earlier in her life, saw it as unnecessary given how easily it could be bought in the stores since the Iron Curtain had fallen in the early 1980's from a weakening Soviet Union. Yet Janina's grandmother had insisted anyway, and Janina had reluctantly but carefully listened, mostly because her grandmother seemed to appreciate her interest, even if it was of mind more than heart.
Janina had grown up bright, attentive, a ready student, and fascinated with the smallest things in the universe. Microscopes were wonderful, but soon not powerful enough. As soon as she heard about molecules, she wanted to see them. Atoms, quarks, everything. She wanted to know the energetic roots of the universe. She soaked up science classes, especially physics, mathematics, and, since the forces acting and comprising the smallest particles influenced the largest, astronomy, just so she had some idea of how all this scaled up.
Janina's scientific interests and growing skills landed her an acceptance to Cambridge. Yet despite fulfillment of that dream, she had trepidation about leaving almost everyone behind. Her father's family in Great Britain was not extensive, and she barely knew anyone there but her paternal grandparents. To her surprise, her parents decided to move to London, close enough to visit frequently, but far enough that she remained focused on her studies. Janina had dual citizenship from birth due to her mixed parentage. Janina, social and eager to fit into a largely-unfamiliar country, decided to call herself by her father's nickname for her: "Joan." No one in her family seemed to mind: it had been like she had three first names for years, anyway.
It was a strange quirk of fate that this move to England had perhaps saved all their lives, for a few years later, in 1987, World War III, relatively brief as such wars went, but ugly, had not been kind to their part of Poland, or her maternal grandmother. Fortunately, her parents had stayed safe, far from any hits. London had been hit too -- most unusually from two stolen Mark 3 Hawks which went on a strafing run before both were shot down by a Mark 4 Hawk -- but had not suffered as badly as in the prior World War. Though they sometimes visited surviving relatives and friends back in Poland, and they enjoyed doing so, it seemed almost like a different life now, in several different senses. What interest her parents had in returning to Poland at a future point seemed to quietly fade away. They appeared to be happy in London.
British sociologists called the worldwide phenomenon National Dislodgement Tolerance, that many willing or unwilling expatriates from before or during the war simply never returned permanently to their original home. Some who left were in turn replaced with others seeking opportunities in rebuilding areas. Efforts suddenly became more international, both in rebuilding countries and in building into space. Moonbase Alpha, started before the War, and largely a NASA and ESA effort early on, soon attracted much wider interest by many of the brightest from numerous countries. Various space agencies also started getting involved with Alpha and other space efforts. Russia, already strong in orbiting station efforts, began showing interest in helping with Alpha as well, after it re-emerged from the Soviet Union's rapid collapse in 1987. China began showing interest. Then new and fast-growing space agencies in Japan, Ukraine, Australia, South Korea, Argentina, and Morocco also began joining into low-orbit efforts initially, but seeking involvement with more lofty goals as well. Even South Africa, which had virtually torn itself to shreds, obliterating Apartheid in the end but struggling for a new identity, quixotically saw a space program as something to do just that. The World Space Commission, International Lunar Finance Committee, and International Lunar Commission formed, and Moonbase Alpha became fully international.
While much of this and more was happening, Janina quietly pursued her doctorate. She was a research assistant in the field of particle acceleration, first studying results, then starting to spend summers at the accelerator itself, built in Ireland just after the war. After earning her PhD, she had taken a job at a nuclear power plant, first as a technician and then technical lead, but she soon joined a multi-national research institute with sites around the world. Its primary consultant was the renowned Professor Victor Bergman, who divided his time among academia, non-academic research, and Science Advisor to Moonbase Alpha. Janina's particle research work eventually led to taking part in force field research as well, and the kindly Professor had taken an interest in her work in one of his occasional visits to the U.K., and they had interacted on some of his subsequent visits.
Much to her shock, he suddenly encouraged her to seek out a new opportunity. The ILC had opened up a new research posting on MBA, which the WSA's Science Board was seeking to fill. This time, well over a decade older than before Cambridge, she found herself more ready to take up the challenge, even though the people she knew could not follow. Her parents had been nothing but encouraging, and fortunately, the long-established Eagle Transporter System would allow occasional flights home for a week or more at a time. She pursued the role, with the backing of the Professor, and to her surprise and delight, was accepted. The research had proven fascinating, and she had on occasion helped out in the various Nuclear Generating Areas as well.
Now she found herself marooned, along with the other Alphans, on a runaway Moon. She never once regretted coming to the Moon, or accepting the Professor's encouragement, even though she wished Breakaway had not happened. The Professor had once expressed his remorse: "It seems I unintentionally entangled a few people in this new journey of ours," he had said; while she would have none of that. Still, it had not been easy, in losing her last connection to family, and in having to take up more duties, eventually as permanent supervisor of NGA-2, even though she interspersed time to continue most of her research -- a difficult but necessary balancing act. There was no family, a couple of boyfriends before and after Breakaway, including one dumped after he had gotten pushy not long after Breakaway, and a small, quiet, but good group of friends, now one less for the loss of Jane. Not another person had called her "Janina" since that last family call from Earth a few days before Breakaway. She had gotten so used to being called Joan since moving to England she had not even realized it until there was no one left in her life using her given name.
Janina opened her eyes, and was annoyed with herself to find several minutes had elapsed. The system automatically logged her out even as she cleared her eyes, so she logged back in. Of the electronic posts, there were many -- mostly hourly reports from her people that NGA-2 was stable and that some of her instructions on less-critical items had already been carried out. The Psychon attack had inflicted no apparent permanent damage to NGA-2's reactor, but system checks were still ongoing even while the reactor necessarily continued operation. When she ran into several pre-Psychon posts asking about clothing repair, she closed the system.
She'd first have to get her people through the checks, then back on track with routine duties, perhaps consult with other NGA's in case they found more problems than at NGA-2. She would have to check on the status of some physics research being run from her lab. Then there was dealing with... more difficult things. It would be days if not a week before she got back to less important things, like work on clothes. Part of her didn't mind putting the last off, but she knew by then some people would start asking, and a sense of duty on even that would take over. She sighed. She had brought it on herself, and she had not had any choice.
Cut off from Earth, Data Analyst Sandra Benes had assembled, not long after Simmonds had doomed himself, a survey to find out about all Alphan talents, including hobbies or other skills not listed in their career records, applications, resumés, etc. The order had come from the Commander himself, that all potentially-relevant skills had to be listed, and to what level of expertise, regardless of how amateur, sporadic, or long-unused they were. They were stuck on an island that happened to be the Moon, and people would have to take on different duties at times to fill needs once handled in very different ways back in Earth orbit. So Janina felt compelled to list, among other things, her skills working on clothing. She had kept these skills in practice only very occasionally, more in memory of her maternal grandmother than anything. In most ways on this topic, Janina was like her mother, a later twentieth-century city woman who loved the convenience of shopping.
Evidently so were all the other Alphans, to an even greater degree, for she was the only person to list as much skill as she had, and only a few listed a few modest skills better than simple repair. Many Alphans could do some very simple repair, before and after Breakaway; but otherwise, when uniforms were damaged or worn beyond simple repair, they were once sent back to Earth for repair or recycling, and new ones shipped up. There had been some intention of making Alpha more self-sufficient on that. For whatever reason, the ILC simply had not gotten around to changing that yet.
She had been compelled to take on this role, and even start further training the few others who had listed more than repair skills, now making her something of an unofficial supervisor in this as well, while still remaining the primary tailor of Alpha. Not long after, she had ended up, practically by extension, the clothing disbursement person as well.
Luckily, a month before Breakaway, several large shipping containers of material, mostly for uniforms and medical/sleep pyjamas, but also some other materials for casual clothes, as well as footwear and some other clothing, all meant to be labeled "re: Alpha Moonbase" to go to temporary Earth-side storage and shipped out in a more metered way, had instead gotten labeled "to: Alpha Moonbase" somewhere along the way. The material had made it all the way to Alpha, and when news had reached Commander Gorski, he had wanted the ridiculous amount of material shipped back; but bureaucrats back on Earth declared Alpha had plenty of storage and that it wasn't worth another Eagle flight to correct a minor mistake. The minor bureaucratic blunder and subsequent refusal to correct it had been very fortunate in hindsight, since synthetic fabric production was not at all set up and probably couldn't be for years, and Hydroponics and Botany were only now investigating what it would take to set up cotton growth from stored seed, and it would be years before anything more than test crops could be grown. Some of the abandoned upper residences were being converted for plant growth, and she sometimes wondered if someone would jokingly convert her former room to a cotton crop. Not that she thought it mattered much what ended up where, but she'd rather see physics experiments eventually set up there.
Of all the things... a PhD in physics, a research lab, a supervisory role -- with an office -- in a Nuclear Generating Area, and here she had to spend a few hours a week dealing with clothing, just because she had listened so intently to her grandmother, bless her. There was no choice, so she dealt with it, and found solace that this work made her think of her late grandmother more often.
Today, though, it was going to be "easy" to ignore that stack, albeit for difficult reasons, head to NGA-2 to make sure everything really was okay, then over to check on Greg Sanderson.
Jane's fiancé was one Jane had constantly called a "gentle bear," though Janina had to admit she had always seen plenty of hints about the bear part, though Janina never saw any sign he would be anything but a good husband to Jane, something Janina had wanted to be sure of. Greg had taken Jane's loss hard, including cursing the name of Mentor and all Psychons, not only for the loss of his fiancée, but of a good friend of his, Roger Hayes, killed in a combat Eagle destroyed by the Psychon mystery weapon as well. Greg would need Janina to talk to, and she might have things she needed to tell him too, to find some way through her pain as she helped Greg through his even worse losses.
She had already heard about the two Alphans who had died on Psychon, since the first officer had already announced them. Four total -- at least as far as Janina knew. She knew Alpha could have been destroyed, and had been under such dire threat, even before the main attack, that the first officer had sent a robot Eagle loaded with magnetically-enhanced nuclear material to try to crack the unstable planet wide open, or at least lay waste to the site where the aliens seemed to be working from. Everyone was saying, however, that the Eagle was destroyed by the Psychons, well shy of their planet, about fifteen minutes before its demise.
There was a big piece of the puzzle missing, and she had trouble even guessing what it might be. Not that everyone would necessarily find out, for some details of missions were kept by the officers. This one, though, was big: the destruction of an entire planet. She wondered how many Psychons had been on it. Rumor had it the world seemed too hellish for a large population, and she hated the thought of a whole people dying, even if they had been attacking Alpha. She was happy to be alive, and would always pick Alpha over a hostile world, but it made her profoundly sad it had ended up coming to that.
She had watched Psychon's destruction, like so many others. Mentor had beamed his face all over Alpha, but for some reason the destruction of Psychon had ended up piped all over Alpha too, and it was a startling, relief-filled, and sad moment, all at once.
She mused on some of this as she took a shower, and just after she got into her uniform, Commander Koenig started a base-wide visual message. Janina was sad to hear final confirmation of the death toll, and had not been aware the casualty count had been so high. Then, however, came the missing piece of the puzzle: a young, shattered-looking Psychon woman, the daughter of bloody Mentor no less, looking like she was trying to put on a brave face. Koenig was giving some detail on how, after difficulty, the alien woman was convinced to check the Alphans' claims, and once she had found out the truth, had freed them, allowing Koenig to take action to destroy Mentor's technology, which led to Psychon's destruction and her own father's death.
Despite the alien's strange features, most of her face still looked quite human, and appeared very expressive. Janina, so soon after seeing her own grief reflected in a mirror, saw grief in spades on Maya's face. Seeing that, it was easier to spot at least one other expression written all over her face, underneath her try at a brave face: shame, no doubt from what Koenig had pressed her into finding out about her own father.
Maya, Daughter of Mentor, of Psychon, looked grief-stricken, ashamed, and nervous, all while trying to look brave. She was about the saddest-looking creature Janina had ever seen.
Janina immediately accepted Maya, for the commander's explanation explained both the current state of Psychon and the current visible state of Maya.
Then it occurred to her, given what the commander had said about welcoming her to the crew and community, that the Psychon would need Alphan clothing. For the first time in days, Janina laughed. Guess I'll be working on clothes again soon, after all.
She was going to head for NGA-2 and wait for the call, but fifteen minutes later, just as she was walking there, she got the commlock call, from First Officer Tony Verdeschi.
"Dr. Conway, please meet me at Clothing Stores immediately."
Neither "can you" nor mention of mention of Maya, but it was obvious. "Of course, Mr. Verdeschi. I will be there in about three minutes." She then called to one of her people in NGA-2 that she would be delayed. She trusted her people to carry on without her for a little while longer, and besides, she wanted to give the forlorn Psychon a good welcome.
Janina abruptly realized that aside from the Servant of the Guardian, who had turned out to be an android, she had never actually met an alien before. Well, that isn't quite true. She stopped in her tracks. She had met Jackie Crawford, even made him his little "Commander" uniform as requested, but he had turned out to be Jarak, who had tried to kill all the Alphans, her included. Were any aliens to be trusted, even this new one? Yes, she thought. She started walking again. Her instincts were to trust this one. Then again, she had trusted Jackie.... She would reserve full judgment until she actually met Maya, she decided, so she put the fears out of her mind. She wanted this to be a good meeting.
As soon as she walked into Clothing Stores, she saw Verdeschi and Russell, with Maya standing between and a little behind them, as if there was a fear Janina might attack or that she had brought others. Understandable, of course; but without missing a beat or waiting for either officer to carry out the introductions, Janina smiled widely and approached, extending her hand and saying, "Hello, I am Janina. Janina Conway. Some call me Joan." The two officers looked a bit surprised.
The Psychon struggled for a tiny smile, but said in a quiet yet even voice as she stepped forward and extended her hand to allow a handshake, "Hello,... Janina. I am Maya."
"I am sorry for your losses."
That elicited a stronger reaction, one of surprise. Maya had clearly not expected that.
"I... I do not know what to say. I am sorry for what Mentor did to your people."
"From what I heard, you have no reason to apologize, and we have every reason to thank you. But let's not talk of that. You're here for me to figure out what I can get you for some Alphan clothing." Maya nodded, but looked bewildered by Janina's whirlwind welcome. Good, Janina thought, at least it keeps that tragic set of expressions off her face -- mostly -- for now.
Just then, Dr. Russell took the moment to jump in. "Tony, I need to get to Medical Center."
"Yeah, okay, I'll bring Maya there as soon as we are done here."
"Med Care Unit 4, please."
"Okay."
It wasn't hard to figure out officers' conversation, though literally true, also had a subtext: 'I think Maya is okay with you and Joan' and 'yes, I can confirm that,' respectively.
Helena patted Maya on the arm, then left, leaving Maya looking back to the door, her head turned in profile to Janina.
"Ah, right," Janina said. Maya and Tony turned back to her. "A fellow red-head, I see."
"Redhead?" Maya asked.
Janina glanced upwards slightly, at Maya's hair, then way up, as if towards her own hair.
"Oh, hair color," the Psychon soon said.
"Not many of us on Alpha, though I have to admit my true shade of red is actually slighter than this; and I finally just decided to liven it up a little."
"Artificial color?" Maya asked clinically.
"Sure, improvised compared to what used to be available. But let me get my tape."
"Tape?"
At least she has a healthy curiosity, despite everything else, Janina thought as she got it, choosing to simply show Maya what she meant. She retrieved the tape and headed towards Maya, but the Psychon seemed a bit puzzled and shy about the whole idea. "I am just going to... haven't you ever been measured before?" Janina blurted, then regretted it, thinking that having a man present was probably not helping.
"Clothes and shoe fittings always started with a scan."
Naturally. "Well, I guess that never occurred to anyone to design such for clothes fittings, so around here, we have to do it the old-fashioned way. You know what, though...." She trailed off, looking at how Maya's dress fit her, and thought of a better idea.... "Beautiful dress...."
"Thank you," Maya said with a shy but appreciative voice.
"Mr. Verdeschi?"
"Yes?"
"Since you are both going to Medical next, if Helena has her change into medical blues, could you or someone bring back her dress, if Maya doesn't mind? I see how it fits her, so it would be a simple matter to measure directly from the dress, though I'll still have to measure her leg height now."
Maya looked doubtful, like she wondered if Janina might end up damaging her sole remaining possession, and Janina understood the doubt -- another very human reaction she might have gotten from any woman -- and tried to assuage it. "It is a gorgeous dress. Trust me, it is safe with me. I would not want to do a thing to damage it. I'll even clean it up."
Maya paused awhile, made half a glance at Tony, then said, "That is fine. All of it. Thank you."
So Janina took a quick leg measurement, for which Maya stayed still, and at the same time, asked the first officer, "So for which Section should the sleeve and collar color be?"
"Just neutral for now."
"Okay. Once I get her dress and measure it," Janina said as she walked from Maya to jot the number down, "I should be able to get a couple uniforms ready. She's fairly tall and slim, but I think I have at least a few already handy which might fit her, but will most likely have to switch sleeves and collars." She paused, thinking through possibilities if she didn't have one already of the correct size.... "So say one by tomorrow morning and one by tomorrow evening?"
"That sounds fine, Dr. Conway," Verdeschi said.
"Oh, I'll need her shoes too." Janina was not a cobbler, but as long as Janina could measure Maya's existing shoes, she should be able to find some shoes and boots which would fit. "Are you left- or right-handed, Maya?"
"Handed?"
"Ah, do you tend to write or otherwise prefer using one hand more than another?"
"Oh, I understand; hand use dominance. Right."
"Okay, commlock on the left."
"What is that?"
"One of these," Tony said, removing the one from his belt. "It's a communications device, among other things. You'll get one later, and we'll talk more about it then. Okay, Joan, thanks."
"It was very good to meet you, Maya."
"It was very good to meet you, Janina," she said in a closer-to-similar voice and the same sentence pattern, clearly trying to start learning the basics of Alphan social protocol by simple emulation.
The two of them left, Tony carefully checking the corridor first.
Other than Maya trying to apologize for what her father had done, which struck Janina as completely unnecessary and very sad, Janina hoped that she had cheered Maya up at least a little.
Plain sleeve, like Professor Bergman, she briefly thought. Plain sleeve could mean anything, but the scientist Janina was wondered about what science Maya knew. Alpha's most cutting edge might be third-grade to her, for all Janina knew. Janina rather hoped that was the case, because she'd admit in half a heartbeat that a little boost would be helpful in what was proving to be a universe that was often hostile, or indifferent, to Alpha. That one planet had produced both Mentor and Maya, one having caused her friend Jane's death, the other a potential new friend, suddenly struck Janina as a strange combination. It crossed her mind then to wonder what poor Jane's reaction would have been. It was Mentor who had caused Jane's death, not his daughter, who had interceded for Alpha. Janina saw no conflict of loyalties.
T-344 DAB 0745-0800: Filling Hallways
Maya was feeling a little better after the meeting with Janina. She had no idea how to process the "some call me Joan" part of the Alphan woman's self-introduction, why she had two vaguely similar-sounding names, besides the "Conway" part as well, or who the "some" people might be who would call her Joan. So she had went with unambiguous part: "I am Janina."
Every Alphan so far seemed to have a different number of names, some personal, and some role titles, with no obvious pattern to them yet. Some titles came before personal names, some after. There were multiple personal names, a common-use name and some sort of secondary name, perhaps intended as a clarifier of some sort. Plus there were variant names for no apparent reason. She shook her head a bit, deciding she'd just have to take whatever seemed the most likely name to use, even if she had to muddle through it.
She then thought of another part of the conversation with Janina, regarding clothing and Maya's own dress. When Janina had mentioned taking care of it, Maya had looked at Tony regarding its safety, not so much because of Janina, who had seen remarkably accepting of Maya, but because of Tony, who was clearly considerably less enthusiastic, though still pleasant enough about it. Yet even as she had looked at him now as they walked the Alphan hallway, the thought crossed her mind that if he or someone wanted to take out frustration with Psychon, better on her dress than on Maya herself--
She immediately felt horrified with her selfish disregard, given the precious meaning of her dress. It was something very special to her, even more so now, as it represented the efforts of several of her ancestors, and had once been her mother's as well. It and her jewelry were all she had left of them and Psychon, and she wanted to keep them intact.
Tony started saying something to her, but she suddenly heard a memory of her grandmother, Mendia. Maya, dear, don't worry about the dress.
It wasn't this dress, and Maya had been young, not far into formal schooling in Eralay's classroom. Maya was on a four-day visit at her grandparents' home, as her parents traveled to the still-beautiful Sarnos Province for work and a couple days relaxation. That morning, Maya's parents had taken her in the family'atmoflyer -- the same aldi'neelka Maya had mischievously opened several access panels on, some days before, trying to see the inner components, before she had been caught by Mentor -- to the home of her paternal grandparents. Now, after the extended family had shared a hearty first'meal, her parents departed, and even Yetror had left abruptly on an errand. Maya was left alone with Mendia, who eventually sent her outside for some quiet'play.
Perhaps the temporary lack of typical authority figures, and a boost of energy from a good first'meal, made her feel like she could climb a pitfruit'tree, while wearing a dress Mendia had made for one of Maya's older cousins years before. It was an old dress, now used for quiet outdoor play -- but not meant for climbing trees. On the first low-hanging major branch and following a leaf'fatworm species she had never seen and wanted to touch in order to metasense it, she lost track of her surroundings and got her dress caught on a side branch, struggled a moment, then fell off the tree. She ran back inside crying, not from the slight bumps and scrapes she wasn't going to show Grandmother, but from the terrible rip in the dress, halfway across, at knee height.
"Maya, dear, don't worry about the dress."
"But Grandmother, you made it!" Maya had instantly protested, almost interrupting.
She had interrupted, though, for Mendia smoothly continued, saying, "You shouldn't have been up that tree in that dress; but I'm also glad you weren't hurt."
"Maya?" A male voice.
She blinked, focused, and looked at the alien First Security Officer Verdeschi, and said, "I'm sorry, I was..." -- since she had started saying it, she decided to finish it, or part of it -- "thinking of my grandmother."
Maya started looking around, and was a little startled to see other Alphans moving about. One alien gave her something of a glare, and she looked away and unconsciously moved a tiny bit closer to Officer Verdeschi as they continued walking, already trusting him -- at least somewhat. She wondered why, since he did not seem to trust her that much. She trusted the Commander and the Doctor, and they had confidence in Tony, even with them knowing he was suspicious of Maya, so Maya found herself having some partial trust in Tony. It had to begin somewhere. she might as well give him a chance, and hope he would give her one.
An Alphan male gave her a small smile and half nod, which she tried to return. A female said "thank you" on passing, before Maya could respond, as if the woman had not needed a response. One man openly stared at her in a way she wasn't sure how to interpret. One woman just seemed to pretend not noticing her, which made no sense. She saw a few more on the long way to Medcare'unit 4, and they mostly just stared, which she found difficult to interpret -- and uncomfortable in a short time.
Tony did not seem to want to introduce her to everyone who went by, for which Maya was actually grateful now. He obviously wanted to get her to Medcare quickly. Earlier, she had not relished the sound of Medical Center when the Commander had mentioned it; but now, it seemed like it would be more comfortable to be in a room alone with Helena and Tony than wandering these busier hallways.
The security officer abruptly began talking about section and hallway numbers, as if to distract her, which she welcomed. So she concentrated on his words, asked a few questions, and started adding location names to the mental map of the base her mind had already been building. Nervous about the stares, she purposefully kept looking at him, to make herself look busy as a few more Alphans went by.
At those times, he didn't look at Maya at all, but the others, nodding each time, but watching intently. Suddenly, she trusted him yet a little more, for she realized he was actually scanning for potential threats to Maya. The First Security Officer might not entirely trust Maya yet, but he was actually looking out for her well being. When not looking at others, though, he seemed to be keeping an eye on Maya. She tried to be as non-threatening as possible, but couldn't imagine how to act any more so, except she carefully kept a clamp on her metamorphic tendencies, not wanting anything to trigger her into transforming, or he might end up shooting her on the spot.
She even resisted the urge to metasense the molecular makeup of the people she passed near. She had decided on this back on the Eagle. Did they tell Tony I'm a metamorph? she abruptly wondered.
Yet she found one case where she could not stop the sense: direct contact. She had already sensed Tony, Sandra, and Janina as a result of the handshaking ritual. She had found it quite thoroughly impossible to prevent this, and could not remember Father ever saying anything regarding stopping it. Apparently no one tried.
It was troubling the metamorph's mind whether to stop shaking hands, even though that might be an affront among Alphans, or just accept that given such contact already was a form of sharing -- warmth, hand tension, strength of the grasp, a degree of social welcome, and such -- and just not worry about it. Maybe she would have to ask the doctor privately. How to frame such a question, which would be so alien.... Yet the doctor and the commander had been remarkably understanding so far. Then again, she had not said that she had already sensed the commander, doctor, and two Eagle pilots, back on Psychon. Maybe asking and revealing that would cause more discomfort. They probably just assumed she could automatically transform, or automatically sensed them....
She didn't know what to do.
As Tony talked to her, he realized the alien was a good listener, looking at him intently, asking questions, and obviously looking to learn.
For the first time, consciously, Tony noticed Maya's unique accent, sort of reminiscent of a female version of Mentor's, yet distinct as well, hers ranging from rich and throaty but pleasant, to a flighty but still-pleasant whisper.
That she soon started walking a little closer to him did not go unnoticed. It made him a little concerned, though he deftly hid it, out of training. Her being one step closer seemed to be out of reaction to the other Alphans, especially Stewart, not due to some threatening intention of hers. He had still been making sure to walk with her on the left, away from his sidearm.
One thing that had been a relief was Joan. Why is she calling herself Janina suddenly? She could have easily given Tony a headache making a scene against Maya. He would have understood Conway not wanting anything to do with the alien after the latter's father had killed the physicist's best friend, but that would have complicated Tony's already strange day. Instead, she had deftly and instantly broken the ice, welcoming Maya. Where did that come from? John's speech. No, someone whose job isn't Security. Even that was too simple an answer, he knew. He had caught the more mixed reaction of the two operatives in Command Center. No, Alphan reactions to Maya were going to be mixed and complicated, and Tony was going to be in the middle of it. He suppressed a sigh.
T-344 DAB 0800-0830: Medical Units
Helena had finally broken away to return to Medical Center, after a stop in her quarters. After Bob gave her a capsule pre-rounds brief about the current patients, he asked about whether Maya would be brought here anytime soon.
"As soon as she sees a tailor for some clothes measurements, Tony is bringing her," Helena answered. "I'll be running some more tests -- I already did some field checks on the Eagle. She hasn't slept well in days, so I'll just run some basics now, and have her sleep here to monitor something closer to baseline."
"I would suggest one of the smaller rooms."
"Yes, I already told Tony MCU-4."
Though there was a multi-room Medical Center, there had always been Medical Care Units. MCU was the acronym, and they doubled as satellite facilities, scattered about the base for proximity, overflow, and redundancy. If needed, some Care Units doubled as isolation wards. Each had at least a nurse or paramedic on duty at all times, to accept patients presenting themselves there due to urgency; doctors could rush there as needed, while some initial aid was rendered. Almost all cases still came to Medical Center, especially in cases where the patient had to be taken from somewhere on a gurney. MC had the most concentration of resources of every type.
Medical Center's move downstairs had not changed that. In fact, it had simply repurposed the now-former MCU-1, which had always been the largest Care Unit, and several side rooms which now became part of the new multi-room Medical Center. The former MC, up-level, became MCU-1, though there was some discussion of paring it down by perhaps repurposing some of its side rooms in coming months. For now, they remained overflow storage rooms of some medical equipment while various small details left over from the move continued settling. Two pieces of medical equipment were too large to practically move, at least any time soon, so they would have to be kept in what was now MCU-1, with patients brought there if needed.
Each MCU was different in arrangement. MCU-4 had a two-room observation/isolation arrangement. The anteroom had a desk, a couple chairs, cabinets with some medical equipment for active use or in storage, and a few other items; while the care room itself had three beds, the typical set of equipment, soundproof walls, a table and some chairs, a cabinet with more pajamas as well as some books and other entertainment, and a side door to a bathroom complete with a shower. Between the anteroom and the care room was a soundproof door and glass panel, with a speaker arrangement set up. It could be used as a complete isolation ward, if needed, There was even a way of delivering food safely. Oftentimes, however, it was just used as another typical ward.
Now, it would just be used for simple observation of Maya, away from the patients who had been injured by her father, or their visitors. Helena had thought a little temporary isolation, distance-wise, would be good for all of the patients until a proper direct introduction could be made.
"Was there some reaction to the announcement, though?" Helena asked Bob in the Medical Center office.
"Obviously down to hear about the deaths now re-confirmed by the Commander, somewhat mixed about Maya. According to the nurse, they argued for a bit among themselves, but nothing really threatening was said. At least that's what she thought. I'm not sure the mood on Alpha is that great. This new attack, with four more lost and casualties as well, so soon after losing so many key personnel, seems like a new low in some ways."
Helena, despite some background in psychology, rarely had the time to exercise those skills much, and in this way and others felt a little out of touch at times. Still, it was no surprise to hear Bob's words. He had similar psych background to her, and had been able to spare more time than the CMO in this role. In fact, this had been increasing some. Nearly a year of shocks and being pummeled by attacks, yet at the same time starting to open up more to others, whether friends, community, or doctors, had created an increase in psychological or psychiatric needs. Despite everything, including this, Alphans were showing remarkable resilience, more than Helena might have expected even with rigorous screening pre-Breakaway.
Still, the doctors had tried to emphasize there was no shame talking about their concerns or even seeking treatment if needed. The doctors were cautious about the meds, but so far, talk had been doing a fair amount of good, with some infrequent light prescriptions. Bob had taken this on, and it was increasingly drawing him away from non-psych practice, while still remaining less than half the time. He, like others, had research projects as well, something which far from being dropped after Breakaway, seemed all the more vital if Alpha was to survive long-term. That it also helped the doctors stay well-rounded and diversify their routines was helpful on an individual basis.
Dr. Ben Vincent had only just completed his fellowship, in Space Medicine. Given what their last year had been like, there had been a lot of updated and expanded material in that fellowship, as various encounters with alien forces and peoples and other incidents had exposed the Alphans to a lot of new information, some of which they did not entirely understand and some of which they did, but which made for new experience either way.
Ben had finished his formal training shortly before Psychon. As an attending physician, he had already relieved some burden from Helena and Bob, since Ben no longer needed any direct day-to-day supervision, and could be the primary physician for roughly a third of Alpha, and take up other duties. Redistribution, though a task itself, had been fairly swift so far, and was already mostly complete.
Dr. Ed Spencer, however, was a few years behind Ben, and would remain at 'assist' level in some areas for awhile, but Helena was nonetheless happy there was another doctor working his way through as well.
That had not solved some long-term concerns, however; and while Ben had relieved some burdens, Helena and Bob nonetheless had no choice but to add some new ones to themselves.
That one blast to the original location of Medical Center could have taken out the entire M.D. corps had worried Dr. Russell, and she had taken it upon herself to start gathering thoughts and materials for a medical training program. Alpha was one of several key locations for Space Medicine, and that had left Alpha research programs, as well as the ability to manufacture pharmaceuticals, but oddly, few fully-trained M.D.'s. Beyond research and a fellowship program, Alpha was not prepared for a full-cycle Pre-Med to Accredited Doctor program, and had little formal training material for most aspects of such. Even when Ed Spencer finished fellowship, years from now, that still left the future to be concerned about. There was little choice now, but to start a full-scale training program almost from scratch. No choice, really, if Alphans were to continue beyond a couple generations.
She and Bob had discussed these options for awhile, had put out feelers to the paramedics and nurses, and had received some tentative interest. Such a program would take longer on Alpha: for with so few doctors, and lots of other duties for everyone involved, there was only so much time for the intensive training and learning required -- as well as other complications.
It would be months before Helena and Bob, maybe with some help from Ben and Ed, fresher from Pre-Med, to arrange the first "year" (or so) of such a program. Bob had volunteered to take the greater part of this work too. As Ben continued improving his newly acquired skills, Helena suspected Bob would be around for general casework a lot less in a year or two, with training and psych work, and still some research, taking up much more of his time. She would have to insist he kept his general skills active, though, even if he became more behind the scenes than before. It was going to be a complicated transition. It kept Helena busy many evenings, debating the finer points in her mind or with Bob, sometimes to a mix of irritation and understanding from John, who wanted to spend more time with her. Yet as with other things, she had found herself relaxing a bit more on this too, letting Bob help more, while she still retained general control. It was subtly transitioning more to teamwork.
They then went on rounds, Dr. Mathias presenting the patients. Near the end, Helena's commlock gave a single distinct beep, the pre-arranged page from Tony. She didn't let any reaction to that cross her face, but continued smoothly with the final two patients, one of whom -- Diane Bell -- was still critical but stable. In the end, Bob had indicated almost half of the casualties he had not previously released were ready for such now. "Unless you have any objections, Helena?" he asked away from the patients.
"None," she said. "When you're done, please be ready to stop by MCU-4; but wait for my page. It will probably be a half hour or more from now."
He confirmed, so she left him to proceed with the releases, while she proceeded to MCU-4 herself. She found Tony standing near the desk of the anteroom, Maya sitting in a seat further away from the door -- a rather defensive arrangement.
"Hello again, Maya."
"Hello again, Doctor Russell," Maya partially echoed as she stood up but stayed where she was, while Helena immediately went to a cabinet and pulled out a pair of blue medical/sleep pajamas that seemed the right size for Maya, and a pair of slippers.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Maya said vaguely, probably out of politeness.
Helena could scarcely imagine what she must be feeling right now, but Helena let that just be simple small talk for now, instead indicating, "There is a bathroom through that door and the one on the right, where you can change into these clothes. We'll just run some more basic tests, then I'll let you sleep on one of those beds for as long as you need, though I'll still have some of the equipment continue to monitor, so I can start gathering a baseline. Oh, it has a shower, too. No need to hurry. Here, I'll get the correct button on this door; just touch the same button by the other door."
Maya said nothing, and her expression, besides a nod, was unreadable, as she went through the doors.
Maya took the blue clothes into the room with the three beds, past them to where she saw the other door, and into another bath'room without a bath but a shower instead. The Alphan word bath'room apparently had a generalized meaning, she thought as she noticed three cups upside down next to the sink. She took one, activated the sink easily enough, quickly figured out how to get cold water rather than neutral, and drank a cup. Then she started removing hair'pins, setting them down on the counter, followed by her jewelry.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and saw the exhaustion she felt. She had gone two whole days -- Psychon days -- without any meaningful sleep. She had lived through several enormous shocks -- which her mind currently skittered away from -- in a short period of time. Then this had been followed by a whole lot of alien sights, and a decidedly mixed reaction from the aliens themselves. She didn't want to dwell on that either. Curiously enough, going through some medical tests sounded nicely diverting from her own thoughts. New technology to observe, she thought, trying to smile at that to encourage a calm focus, with only partial success. She pushed the exhaustion from her face, trying to find some last reserves of calm and strength.
Too tired to do anything but assume the mention of the shower in combination with "no hurry" was an invitation to use it, she soon chose to avail herself of the opportunity. Despite the admonition not to hurry, she did so anyway, not wanting to waste the others' time. She was soon dressed in the medical blues uniform and drying her hair with a towel -- the only drying mechanism she could discern in the room -- and wondering if they had a combrush she could use for her hair.
She felt temporarily a bit better, yet at the same time, even more tired -- but also almost numb in a way, psychologically. She kept moving, however: there was nothing else to do at the moment.
When she had done as much as she could for her hair, which she left down, she gathered up her clothes, jewelry, pins, shoes, and pendant. She pushed the door button, and with surprising calm, walked out, through the one room, to the other, where Tony and Helena quickly finished a conversation.
There were now two boxes on the desk, one larger than the other.
Helena had waited patiently for Maya, answering Tony's further questions about the injured personnel. When Maya emerged, changed, hair down, and carrying her Psychon clothes and jewelry, Helena carefully took the clothes first, put them into the larger box, and after what Tony had told Helena, added the shoes on top. Maya offered the hair pins and jewelry next, for the smaller box. It was the way Maya held the final item that caught Helena's attention. Maya's pendant, which Helena had noticed before, was evocative of a spider or crab or similar creature, yet was quite beautiful. Helena abruptly recalled that Maya had used it to lower the force field back on Psychon; it had technology in it. She quickly set the thought aside for now, deciding to bring it up with John, later. Maya held it separately and carefully, clearly not wanting to drop it. It might have been fragile, perhaps, but Maya's handling struck Helena as something different than that. "An heirloom?" she asked gently. Maya's breath caught; she seemed to know the word.
"Yes. It was my mother's, and before that, my grandmother's. She died not long after my mother. The pendant is the only thing I have left from my grandmother. The dress was once my mother's."
"Don't worry," Helena said as she carefully took it. "It is all in safe hands."
"Thank you," Maya said as Helena carefully took the pendant, found something to wrap it in, and set it in with the rest of the jewelry and pins. The moment was not lost on either woman. The Psychon had already entrusted her life, her safety, her future, and now what few possessions she had, to the Alphans.
Tony was watching, but said nothing. Maya looked at him briefly, and he looked back neutrally.
Helena appraised Maya's state some more. She seemed surprisingly relaxed, but the signals were all a little mixed to Helena; and despite the calm of the moment, her patient was a little hard to read right now. The Psychon was perhaps more in shock than she seemed, yet perhaps had set aside the shocks for now and was focusing on the proceedings more than anything. She also seemed nervous. The jumble still spoke of some strength of will to Maya, or maybe nothing more than sheer fatigue, well hidden.
"Oh," Helena said. "I forgot to give you something." She handed the other woman a hairbrush. "There are a few things like this in storage around here, in case of need. Just ask if you want something. This one is yours to keep."
Maya thanked her, and immediately started using it even while Helena guided her back to the care room and the center of the three beds there, while Helena also quietly paged Bob.
Tony remained where he was, in the outer room, wanting to give them a bit of privacy, even though there was a window between the rooms. He touched the 'L' button to listen in for the slightest threat in Maya's voice. He had his doubts, and watched through the window. The alien seemed nowhere near threatening now -- even looked a bit vulnerable in simple pyjamas and with her hair down -- but if she took offense to something Helena did....
Aliens could be tricky, and though he trusted John's word, he could not get himself to give up old habits so easily. Being nice to the Psychon and seeing to her safety while carefully assessing all her reactions was one thing; just assuming she was perfectly okay right away was not his style. Helena could generally handle herself reasonably well, Maya seemed to be a little tired, and he was just in the other room. So he remained there, just watching and listening. He saw Maya notice him standing there, but she made no outward reaction, and he did not react either. Maya turned away from him as Helena started hooking her up to some monitors.
Then he recalled John's words about Bokessu, and called the latter. "Report to MCU-4, nominal." The last was one of several signals, usually only employed while nerves were still high at -- or just after -- the end of a crisis, to make sure no misunderstanding lead to a group of guards storming in with heavy weaponry. Of course, Bokessu would still have his sidearm, as Tony did.
Helena began taking some immediate readings and found some rather high readings on heartbeat, blood pressure, respiration, and brain wave patterns. Helena was not sure at first if she was looking at a Psychon's norm or.... "Maya, I know it is difficult, but I need you to relax as best as you can. Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths, and let them out slowly but fully."
A few deep breaths released with the sound of a lot of tension, and Helena was rewarded with a distinct if probably not complete reduction in most figures. The brain activity eased only slightly, but both her pulse rate and blood pressure fell to somewhat near the low end of a typical human range on each. The combination mildly concerned Dr. Russell at first, especially given it did not seem like Maya had eliminated all her stress; yet the pulse-oxygen monitor was continuing to display normal readings, so Helena relaxed. It seemed almost as if her blood carried oxygen a little more efficiently than human blood. After a moment, she wondered if the partial pressure of oxygen on Alpha was a little higher than on Psychon. She would have to call for some detailed mission survey results at some point.
"That is much better," Helena said. "You can open your eyes now."
The thought of blood brought Helena to the next step. Maya looked at the needle with a slight expression Helena could not directly interpret, but said nothing. Helena gave a brief explanation of some of the tests needed from blood, and Maya nodded, so Helena started the draw, and the vial started filling with a fluid that was red. She only took a little, only what was needed for some initial baseline tests.
In many ways, Maya was easy to read, expressive and not filtering much; but at times, was difficult to read, perhaps from a combination of emotional shock, being and looking somewhat alien, and trying to push through the exhaustion. Helena assumed she'd get better reading Maya over time, as she got to see her react in various situations. In this situation, it wasn't long before Helena saw the exhaustion become clear. Helena decided to belay internal scans until the morning, even though the first batch could be done with equipment in MCU-4. Dr. Russell wanted to let Maya give into the exhaustion and finally some deep sleep, hopefully.
Bob and Tony walked in at that point, so Helena introduced Maya and Bob, which went well. Then she handed Bob the vial of blood for a first round of tests, also saying, "Oh, and ask Nurse... Adams to come here." He nodded, and left with the sample of Maya's blood.
"Does Janina normally work here too, or another Medcare'unit?" Maya asked.
Despite having heard the name not long before, it still took Helena a fractional moment to place Janina, not being used to it outside of the formal medical record. She wondered why Joan Conway had chosen to introduce herself that way. "No, Maya, she's not that kind of doctor."
"That kind? I don't understand."
"She's not a medical doctor. Other people have doctorate-level education, and they are referred to as doctors too. She's a physicist."
Maya seemed puzzled at the first part, perhaps over the subtle shades of meaning, or the word doctorate -- then promptly looked confused again at the last part. "I thought you are a physicist."
Helena had to stifle a laugh. Either Maya was very tired, or her knowledge of the language had more than a few gaps and crossed information. "No, I have not been cross-trained on that," she joked. "I am a physician. A physicist studies physics, things like atoms and... protons, electrons, gravity, electromagnetic force, nuclear reactions, that sort of thing."
"Ohh, fascinating, thank you," Maya said, but with little enthusiasm. Maya yawned, covering her mouth much like anyone Helena knew.
Helena tried to insist on Maya eating, but despite Maya deferring on other topics, she remained stubborn on this, without offering any reason. Helena decided this was the last time she would tolerate this: if Maya did not start eating after she woke up, it would become a medical question which had to be answered. For now, Helena decided that upsetting Maya when she probably most needed sleep -- and seemed almost ready to give into it -- was probably the greater of two problems.
A couple minutes and another simple test later, Tony came in with Adams, who paused by the doorway, but only a moment, before approaching without further hesitation. It was a cordial encounter. Helena caught Tony's eye and got back a subtle nod from him, matching Helena's own opinion. Helena could put Cynthia Adams on medical watch over Maya, while Tony or one of his people -- she wondered if Tony was going to have a guard meet Maya sometime before she slept -- would keep security watch.
Tony retreated to the other room again, but less than a minute later, came back in with Bokessu. Maya's readings increased, showing nervousness about this introduction, apparently remembering him as the guard with the rather large laser rifle, and perhaps by association his noticeably more nervous compatriot, Giles. However, it was a good meeting too, him even saying, "You don't have to be nervous about me." Her readings soon settled again.
Helena discussed some initial readings with Cynthia and started giving some instructions. Cynthia then left to start carrying them out, including activating the remote monitors in the anteroom. Meanwhile, Maya put her head back and promptly closed her eyes. The two men left the immediate room and started watching through the glass, until Tony stepped away and she saw him lean against another wall, talking with the guard. Helena remained, finishing a few notes and waiting to see if her unusual patient would finally sleep. The Psychon's respiration and heartbeat dropped a bit further, to the lowest end of the normal human range. She had seen some unusual readings from aliens, more than Maya's, so hers were actually somewhat closer to human than she had expected. The brain wave activity was the last to decline, though still not by much. She had seen somewhat higher readings among a number of aliens, most surprisingly among the Kaldorians. She had also seen some lower ones. Regardless, Maya looked peaceful, breathing easily, and otherwise gave the appearance of sleep, so Helena found herself relaxing. Her tragic patient was finally getting some sound sleep, it seemed.
She quietly left the room with her notes, briefed Cynthia, then sat down at the desk to finish more notes, while Cynthia sat down elsewhere, to wait.
Helena suddenly realized she did not know what a normal period of sleep for a Psychon might be. She could only assume that it would be some fraction of Psychon's rotational period, but she wasn't sure what that was, except for it being longer than 24 hours. "Tony, do you know what Psychon's rotation time was?"
"What? Oh, something like thirty hours. Actually, thirty-three or thirty-four I think. Sorry, let me check with Sandra." He called her on the commpost, and asked Helena's question.
"About thirty-three and a half hours," Sandra replied. "Do you need the exact figure?"
"Yes, please," Helena said, needing this key information for her notes as well as the formal record she would start soon, probably tomorrow.
Within a couple seconds, Sandra had looked up the information, and listed it off slowly, so Helena could get it written down accurately, on scratch paper for now. "33.464, plus/minus two hundredths of a percent. That is 33 hours, 27 minutes, 50 seconds, give or take 25 seconds."
"Thank you," Tony said to Sandra, disconnecting, then turning to Helena. "I had not thought of it before, but that is quite a difference. Do you think she can adapt?"
"I suspect she's adaptable, I hope; but I think nine hours would be asking a lot. We should probably work out a schedule that is more suited to letting her sleep in a normal way for her."
Tony laughed once, then said, "Forget first shift, second shift, or third shift, but Psychon shift."
Tony's words made Helena realize she might have to set aside some special medical supplies for the now permanently-resident alien. Psychon Specials, she thought. A kit or cart, if needed. She didn't know of any special needs, yet; but there was a chance something would be discovered soon or over time.
Actually, she could think of one: a card of any unique differences in readouts. Helena was certainly going to memorize any and all important differences and critical values, and make sure she drilled the other doctors, the nurses, and the paramedics in them -- whatever parts were germane to their duties, just like any other new information they needed to learn. Maya's medical needs were now Dr. Russell's responsibility, and she was going to make sure she was given the same quality of care as any other patient, to the best of their ability.
Still, if there were key differences, especially for Code Blue situations, it would not hurt to have laminated cards in the main crash cart, just as other key facts sometimes were posted, and more detailed ones in any Psychon Specials kit or cart. If most of Maya's readings turned out to be human, but with a couple ones that were different, Helena could imagine the possibility of someone treating her as fully human, medically, interpreting Maya's readings without taking a key difference into account, or mixing up a similarity for a difference. In the heat of an emergency, if a simple laminated card or cards in one or more places was all it took from making a mistake that could cost Maya her life, then it was worth having on hand. Hopefully, though, no one would ever have to use it, either for Maya not needing that level of treatment, or for medical personnel keeping their facts sorted.
Helena realized she was getting ahead of herself. So far, other than a few curious readings which might be more stress than baseline, Helena did not yet know of any special needs yet. Those initial blood reports should be interesting -- either way.
John called Helena then, saying he wanted to meet with her and Tony, as well as Alan and Sandra, and asking if Maya was settled and safe in Medical, and if Tony and Helena had eaten. She responded affirmatively to the first point, then looked at Tony, who shook his head, regarding the second. "John, neither of us have, and we're ready any time."
"Okay, none of us have, yet," John said, "Meeting in ten minutes. I'll have some basic breakfast fare brought here before it starts."
The two of them headed out of MCU-4, leaving a nurse and a guard to keep an eye out for Maya, Tony carrying two boxes, one to deliver to Joan with the dress and shoes, one to Sandra to store briefly until Maya had her own quarters. It never occurred to him to have any of it scanned.
T-344 DAB 0800-1200: Nuclear Recovery
After having met Maya, Janina headed to NGA-2. All shifts of her crew were temporarily back in now, running through final safety procedures in preparation to returning the reactor to full power. It had been pushed higher during the Red Alert, shaken a little, nearly shutdown, and scaled back to standby power while its stability was being evaluated yet one more time. That had finished soon after Janina had gotten there, so after informing Command Center of the intent to return to normal levels, she had done so. This was done slowly, and she continued monitoring after it was returned to normal levels.
As she moved about and things settled, her acute hearing sometimes caught bits of conversations. Where yesterday, the day after the attack, most conversation had centered on the attack, Mentor, and Psychons in general, now they centered on one Psychon, the one now among Alphans. Two of the men thought Maya was "strangely enough, quite a looker," but beyond that, they seemed very much more unsure of the woman. The two women also seemed unsure.
Sadly, Janina picked up on some grumbles against poor Maya. Some seemed a little more understanding about her being here, if not very enthusiastic; while some begrudgingly accepted John Koenig "sparing her life" for how she had helped them, but were not so keen to welcome her as base personnel, much less as part of the "community." It was a rather more mixed reaction than Janina had hoped for, disappointing in some ways, but she did not pick up on anything sinister. At one point, two looked at Janina, as if thinking she had heard them and wanting to hear her reaction. So she said, "I think she did a wonderful thing, and deserves our friendship or at least respect." She kept it at that. Let them think over the basic facts.
Now, Janina walked towards Greg's quarters. Her NGA shifts were not normal shift lengths due to her continuing research, though she now had an assistant of her own on the latter too. Plus, there was the somewhat random clothing work. This had all been discussed and approved, Prof. Bergman and others vouching for her sense of balance, ability to shift priorities easily whenever needed, and her maturity when it came to work and supervisory skills. With the uptake of three roles on Alpha, and her showing the same sense of wisdom at prioritizing, she had eventually been given discretion on how to balance them on particular days. So there was no problem that she was taking time to visit Greg, and would later, after some time to check her research and experiments, take some time to get a uniform together for Maya.
A few minutes later, she discovered the charitable yet slightly chilly mix of responses to the Psychon survivor was tame compared to Greg's.
"He brought a Psychon back. Why the hell would he bring a damned, bloody Psychon back?"
That was virtually the first thing out of his mouth, after a curt yet apparently grateful greeting. His words were already too much for Janina. "Or what? Leave her to die on the planet after she sacrificed virtually everything to save us?"
"It was Koenig who saved us. He just got her to do something for a moment. Who knows what she thinks now."
"John Koenig would not welcome her that way--"
"John Koenig should lock her the hell away."
"So your gratitude is to either lock her up or leave her to die," she said, trying to get through to him. His grief was turning to anger, and Janina had found herself confronting Greg over his reaction to Maya, which was harsher than she had expected -- so much so that she had to confront him and hope he saw just how extreme he was getting. Jane's "gentle bear" was snarling now, over the loss of his fiancée Jane, and best friend Roger.
"When have aliens ever been kind to Alpha?"
"The Kaldorians? Remember it was Simmonds who saw fit to take Alpha hostage to get on board their ship?"
"You should stay away from her," Greg said, ignoring her comment on behalf of the gentleness of some aliens.
"Well, I have already met her, and what I saw--"
"You met her? What for?"
"Because she needs some uniforms and other clothing."
"So we are going to dress her up like she is human."
"Like she is an Alphan."
"That is terribly dangerous."
"Let me tell you, Greg, I saw more grief on her face than even mine, shame and humiliation over what her father did, and fear."
"Ah, that we will see through her game."
"Greg, listen to yourself. I know you are hurting from losing Jane -- and Roger. It was Mentor who attacked us, not Maya. Would Jane want you blaming Maya when she did nothing against us, and even went against him when she found out what he was doing to us? Would Jane want you tossing an innocent woman in a cell for the rest of her life, or leaving her somewhere to die because of actions of someone else?"
"So you trust Koenig."
"Trust Koenig? What do you mean?"
"What he says about the alien."
"Yes," she said, then took a more conciliatory tone than she had been in for the last couple of minutes, trying to convince him about Maya. Greg relented -- so abruptly that Janina was left feeling puzzled. Was he convinced, or tired of listening to Janina arguing on Maya's behalf?
"You know Verdeschi relieved me of duty," he said.
"Hmm? To give you some time."
"Jane always said I didn't pay enough attention."
"To what?" she asked gently.
Greg did not answer, at first, then said, "To saying goodbye well." He paused, and she said nothing. "I reserved my best goodbyes when cycling back to long exploratory missions. On base, I felt so confident nothing could happen to me, and even less reason anything could happen to her. After time in space, you'd think I would know better -- but I didn't expect it to be her! I should have understood."
She knew they had been spending nights in each other's quarters for some weeks. They had been weeks from marrying. He looked at her expectantly, for an answer she did not have. All she could say was, "I know she loved you, and that she knew you loved her."
T-344 DAB 0900-1500: New Stresses?
John, Tony, Alan, Helena, and Sandra were having a working late breakfast in the meeting room, as Bill took watch duty. It was not a formal de-briefing, for that would take too long. This was for the essentials -- but also to talk a bit about a few other essentials: the four people most recently lost. That part would come last, however.
First came status updates, of which there were many even for this brief summary meeting. That took awhile. Reports on Power, Medical, Reconnaissance, the lack of detection of further alien activity. The reports were very terse. Everyone knew their areas, with the possible exception of the complicated and split-up oversight of Technical Section.
John briefly inquired about Maya, heard she was finally sleeping comfortably. Maya had a good meeting with Dr. Conway too.
By now, they had all finished eating, and ten minutes of the planned time frame remained, so they shared a little of what they knew or remembered of each person. It was a tradition which had started not long after Breakaway, and besides the officers simply talking amongst themselves about the latest losses, it also helped John start gathering some thoughts for the memorial service he would speak at in a few days. He would have to have more talks, with more people soon; but this was a helpful start to him. Though it was a selfish thought, John again felt sad relief he would not have to speak at the funerals too. That was the chaplain's tragic duty.
The late Lew Picard was the last one talked about, and when the conversation trailed off, Tony spoke into the silence. "Not to be a jerk returning the conversation to duty needs, but as far as I know, no one's talked about what becomes of the oversight duties Lew had."
"Hmmm, Research Unit...." John mumbled. They had not considered what to do with that large group of people, the sole part of Technical whose oversight had not shifted to another section head for now.
"We're running thin," Helena said. "Until we can identify some further mid-level leads below officer level, the five of us are running ragged, to be blunt and honest, with all due respect to how we're all doing our best."
John steepled his fingers unconsciously, nodding at her and then looking past her, then finally said, "How about temporarily forming a Science Board?"
"Like those back on Earth in the various oversight committees, that were allocating research time and funds?" Alan asked, having heard of science boards but not really familiar with them.
"That's them," Tony said.
"Temporary measure with limited authority," John thought aloud. "Or we could keep them later, in a limited role to aid the Science Officer, who can also be their chair too. They can filter some of the day to day research discussion or whatever makes most sense to relieve some of the detail and allow exercise of the other parts of the intended Science Officer role."
Tony chuckled, and said, "Under carefully worded but crystal clear threat of the board being dissolved when it ceases to be... 'efficient.'"
John laughed, his first genuine laugh in days. So did Helena, and Alan even more so. Even Sandra cracked half a smile. The various boards and committees back on Earth had not been the most popular among the command staff.
They agreed it would be a good thing to attempt. John and Tony would organize it. They'd be the primary contacts once the board was running, anyway.
Tony had the background; his rarely-advertised PhD from Cambridge often came in handy on Alpha. It was one of the reasons his performance on Alpha had been stellar and gotten notice by Morrow and then Koenig, despite Gorski's being unimpressed by the ILC's bit of creative thinking. Verdeschi's rapid rise from a guard with limited oversight authority, to Security Officer, to First Officer had been in no small part from his background in scientific and officer-grade training, and John was thankful someone -- he wasn't even sure who -- had the insight to see Verdeschi's potential, despite all of his rough edges and radical career shift.
The meeting ended a few minutes later, but Helena broke in to order John and Alan, two of the human survivors of Psychon, to report to Medical Center for a more thorough check than she had been able to carry out on the Eagle. She finished by saying, "John?" It was a clear signal she wanted him to set a good example -- this time at least -- by not arguing and instead just heading to Medical Center. He decided not to argue, simply nodding a bit, and was rewarded with a subtle smile.
Helena thought back to how John was sometimes one of her worst patients, because he was the commander and should be setting a better example. Well, technically Dr. Mathias was now the Commander's primary physician for routine checks -- and a post-mission exam was one of the routines on Alpha. Some months ago, when Helena had realized she was starting to fall for John, she had re-assigned John to Bob's patient list, and Alan to hers. She had explained it to Bob, John, and Alan as a routine re-shuffling. To all of their credit, none had so much as raised an eyebrow. Indeed, it was a rather routine matter to not be primary care physician, except in emergencies or specialized situations, to people they had closer relationships with. At the time, it had been only moderately closer, but she had still felt it prudent.
She had little doubt Bob could read between the lines, or at least guess, even at the time. Whether John had read anything into it, she wasn't sure; but if he had, hopefully he had read it as an interesting -- and good -- sign.
When they got to Medical Center, she had the two men go to different exam rooms, then checked with Bob. She set the context as sharing of confidential, restricted information, next quickly gave him the information that John had a pair of puncture wounds and some bruises, then quietly told him about just how they had been inflicted, that it was Maya, to her remorse, who had done it -- and how she had done it.
"Damn, that's new," was his thankfully calm response in regard to Maya's metamorphic abilities. "Obviously it is under her control and you trust her, then, and all the officers know?"
"Yes on everything but the last. Only John, you, and I know about the metamorphic ability, for now. The Commander wishes to let this out in stages. I insisted that you needed to know as well, partly because you are John's primary physician. Besides, I know I can trust you with the information."
"Thanks. I can see why that is sensitive information. I don't envy him the challenge of keeping it quiet and figuring out how to tell others. Just how can she--"
"Another time, Bob. Sorry. I don't have a lot of detail myself, and Maya herself isn't real coherent yet explaining it to a non-Psychon."
She concisely filled him in on some of the medical aspects to the Psychon encounter: being subjected to forces as Eagle 4 struggled to escape the hold of Mentor's ship, exposure to the inside of a volcano, curious mists and steams at various points, being held, transported, and even knocked out by those green energy spheres at various times, Maya thinking the pits were radioactive even though that was probably a lie fed to her by Mentor. Worst of all: the unspeakably horrible Psyche -- and who had been directly exposed to its attack. It was standard procedure that she fill in her second on such matters, especially before post-mission exams, and he took it all in professionally. Such shared information could improve the quality of the exams by alerting each other what potential issues there were to look for.
When the sign-over was done, they left the office to proceed with the exams.
She ran standard post-mission checks on Alan, with special focus on EEG and other brain-related scans, after he had been subjected to Psyche as well. There were some subtle differences, but none that seemed too worrisome, and she decided to re-evaluate in a few days. A radioactivity scan revealed no detectable change. Either the levels were very low and damage slowly cumulative, or it was indeed a lie by Mentor to Maya to keep her curiosity in check and prevent her from discovering the evidence of his acts of horror.
Bob, while giving Helena the same kind of exam she had given Alan, reported on John's condition.
"I irrigated the wounds and changed the dressing, of course," Bob stated. "The wound site had minor inflammation, but there were no signs of infection, and he stated the arm as a whole was no longer throbbing. He does not complain of any deeper pain from the bruises." Bob mentioned John also had some fatigue.
Helena wasn't too worried about the last. John seemed to live on adrenaline sometimes, which Helena didn't necessarily care to see or hear about -- yet he would seek quick naps on his own and then crash when the worst of the crisis or immediate recovery had been dealt with. It was not perfect, but a good compromise given his duties.
Helena was basically happy with the results from both patients.
When Bob was done with Helena's exam, he reported on what he found. She too showed signs of stress but no signs of true trouble. "You'll probably have nightmares early on," Bob had commented, as a psychologist. "As your doctor, though, I would recommend at least a couple hours of sleep right now, even if you are trying to resynchronize to first shift."
Helena, like so many doctors, made for a difficult patient. She again tried to resist his advice on seeking sleep, yet for whatever reason, she didn't feel like arguing the point too much further. As if on cue, his words were forcing her to recognize her own exhaustion. Bill, who would need an exam as well, was Bob's patient, and the rest of the casualties were stable for now. It was early enough in her normal schedule that an extended nap would not cause problems getting to sleep later -- and she had the strange feeling like she would not get a full night's rest tonight, anyway. A nap might be exactly what she needed. So for once, she decided not to give Bob further grief. Maybe he'd return the favor the next time. It probably wouldn't last beyond that.
T-344 DAB 2100-2300: Long, Strange Day Closing
It had been a long day for John Koenig, and it was after 21:00 before he finally made it to his quarters again. He had talked to Helena briefly, but she indicated she was returning to her quarters early to get a full night sleep -- though she had said she doubted she would get it due to the status of the most critical patient, Diane Bell, who might end up needing surgery before the night was over.
His day had been filled with checking on casualties, checking on status of each NGA, and other vital areas, personally checking on damage and early recovery efforts. He had arrived to the damaged Eagle pad just "in time" to see the body of Roger Hayes -- fortunately covered before John saw it, since the astronauts reported it had not been a pleasant scene -- finally being taken away from the wreckage in the damaged pad.
Jane Clemens' body had been removed even before John's return from Alpha, but the reason for her death had seemed less clear-cut as the day had gone on. Chief Architect Alexander Karedepoulos had looked troubled, and said he wasn't entirely sure Mentor's attack alone was entirely to blame for her death -- but he had not wanted to elaborate, and John had chosen not to press him until tomorrow. Let him have a few more hours to form a better hypothesis; no one's survival depends on it right now, he had thought at the time.
Though seeing and hearing more detail about the points of damage was difficult enough, dealing with details regarding deaths was more difficult, especially talking with those closest to those who had perished.
Greg Sanderson had suffered the most, with two of the losses being close ones, his fiancée Jane Clemens, and best friend Roger Hayes. Sanderson was frequently running extended lunar exploration missions, and had single-handedly put together his team. These missions were valuable post-Breakaway, for Alpha needed various raw materials, some once obtained from Earth. Even by 1999, lunar exploration was still very incomplete, which was no surprise given exploration for resources on Earth had been ongoing since the dawn of history. That Greg had managed to cultivate a relationship and some friendships during the month-on-month-off-Alpha routine, could not have been the easiest. Greg indicated he had planned to ask to drop back to three such missions a year rather than six, to seek a more analytical or supervisory role over the survey groups, and offer more time in Security -- all for the sake of the marriage that would now never happen. Greg started sharing a few thoughts about Jane and about Roger -- precious few, however. It was understandible, and John did not push. Greg seemed relieved when John had taken his leave.
Leann Picard had lost her older brother. John already knew how the two Picards had both made it to Alpha, via very different paths, but for surprisingly similar reasons: they both had skills in several disciplines, and both were adaptable generalists. Lew had specialties in the sciences and technical matters, and learned new such specialties fairly quickly. Leann had come on board as a nurse who had technical skills, yet had also become a Main Mission operative, and had been fast learning other technical skills. She even filled in at Reception areas from time to time, often using the opportunity to study. Someone back on Earth had evidently seen that potential, and John guessed it was another of those "creative" posting decisions the ILC sometimes made. This had made them the only siblings assigned to Alpha at Breakaway. Now that was gone. She calmly asked him how Lew had died, and fortunately he could say Lew's death had been instantaneous, and that he had died in an act of heroism. John left out the role Lew's own haste played. Leann seemed relieved it had been a quick end, though sad they couldn't bring him back to what passed for "home" now.
Of the four lost, Ray Torens was the greatest cipher. Post-Breakaway Alpha had been a shocky place, with many going into partial withdrawal, some faster to start coming out of it, some slower to do so, or not really having started yet. Ray Torens had been more in the last category, with only a few closer friends, mostly among the pilots. He had been assigned to Moonbase only a month before Breakaway, a fact which one of his friends suggested had gnawed at him for awhile, until he had recently started coming out of it.
He rolled the thoughts around in his mind as he heated up a leftover rice and pseudo-pork dish, tossed on some of the ever-present soy sauce, and ate it as a late supper as he then checked electronic posts, then called Alan to relieve Sandra from Command Center for awhile. Finally, he seemed ready for the sleep he was craving.
Tony Verdeschi thought it had to be one of his strangest days yet, as he crammed a workout in the upper-level gymnasium, where it was quieter and he could gather some thoughts.
He had woken up expecting to soon be able to greet the returning Alphans, catch a little more rest, and throw himself back into duties to start overseeing some of the repairs and such. Instead, he ended up confronted with them bringing an alien -- right into Command Center no less -- and having to escort her around the base. That she had turned out to look like she was in shock and humble, and that John vouched for her, had not entirely made up for the surprise of seeing her in the first place, or of having to spend so much time with her instead of other duties -- or the concern she could still be plenty of trouble herself.
For some reason, he found himself thinking about her striking face, and her greenish dress. She had been surprisingly beautiful. For an alien, he hastily added. Catbird, his tired mind reminded him, to a groan and then yawn. How she looked with her hair down and in pyjamas. Almost cute. He shook his head. I must really be exhausted, he thought, though feeling a little guilty too.
His workout in, he left for his quarters, and turned in, knowing he'd have to start early, and would probably have a long day, especially if Maya didn't wake up for awhile yet and then was up for twenty hours or something.
That only got him thinking about Maya again, and women in general. He had always liked the 'exotic' type. The foreigners. Women who looked and sounded a bit different than the ones he saw every day. Women with accents. So had his brother Guido, even more if anything. It had been much to his somewhat old-fashioned parents' puzzlement and concern, not to mention their sisters' endless teasing. Maya is rather beyond just 'exotic,' he thought, yet at the same time part of him wasn't thinking so. This only annoyed him further. He was used to starting to think about other women while a relationship was faltering or failing, which felt like it was the case with Lena recently; but this was just strange. Maya still struck him as a security danger, and he decided this must be the reason he was thinking of her, trying to recall any expression or movement that might be construed as a threat. By the time he fell asleep, he had not thought of any, and his last, muddled, half-conscious, semi-coherent thoughts were of himself wondering whether Maya would like lasagna and beer.
W-345 DAB 0415-0600: Buzzing Tableau
Tony slept fitfully, waking up a few times with fragments of dreams melting away instantaneously, except for the last....
Standing in Command Center. Mentor there, laughing away. Maya standing halfway between Mentor and John and Tony. A miniature Psychon ship buzzing around the room, flashing a green light at Tony every few seconds. Psychon itself looking hideous on the Big Screen. Tony himself handing a small, ticking, nuclear Eagle to John, and on the commander's orders, running out of the room, leaving John, Alan, Helena, and Bill there with the aliens. An explosion sounding behind him. Sandra in the hallway, backing away from him and saying, with a tone of accusation, "you should have checked." Lena dressed in a clown suit, laughing and making up jokes and calling him a fool.
He awoke with a start, sweating. He had hated -- detested -- sending the nuclear Eagle, but it was coded and mandatory for good reason. That had been proven given the power of the attack Mentor leveled at Alpha not long after the failure of Directive 4 -- maybe even the total destruction of Psychon itself. Psychons had terrible power, it seemed, and that only reminded him of Maya again. No lasagna or beer crossed his mind this time, but the image of her in the same room as her father, from his dream, and the thought of her standing in Command Center in real life, both came back to him. What the hell does Alpha really know about aliens, even after all this time? he thought, yet feeling uncertain in what sense he meant it. Still, some sharp questions might be in order about how much she knew of whatever her father had been doing. Tony himself still didn't know what had all transpired on Psychon, but there would be an officer de-briefing sometime soon, he knew. The sooner the better. Maybe he could get better details and express his concerns in a different forum. He'd have to question Maya at some point.
He looked at the clock. 04:16. He was sweating. It had not been a frightening nightmare, but it had been disturbing dream. Or maybe there was a true nightmare beforehand and all he was remembering was the final images. Lena in a clown suit wasn't funny either; she was a good woman with a few odd traits, but not a clown, despite the shaky ground of their relationship. Regardless, he didn't feel interested in going back to sleep.
He called Bokessu, who reported nominal status, including that the alien was still sleeping. Tony felt relief, though curiously, he was not sure if it was over Maya not giving anyone else problems, or over anyone else giving her problems. He sighed. Both, of course. He might be suspicious of Maya, but he didn't want to see her hurt. She might be completely innocent, or she might not, but she was his charge, and even if she had been a prisoner, her safety still counted for something unless she were actively attacking. Somehow, that didn't feel like the whole reason.
He swung by Command Center, found Sandra in there again, on watch, having been relieved yesterday but having starting a late shift. She had not had a chance to determine quarters for Maya, but they agreed to meet later in the morning. Wanting to catch up on his normal duties, he asked her for a more detailed status report, and got plenty. Nothing like dealing with the aftermath of a crisis to bring out the volume. Still, it was something useful to do. He left CC for MCU-4, to relieve Bokessu, kicking himself for not having brought in another guard to meet Maya before she had gone to sleep.
Once there, he quickly, after simple greetings to Bokessu and Adams, walked up to the window and looked at Maya carefully. She seemed to be asleep, resting on her back under the sheet, her auburn hair spread out on either side of her face. "What's her status?"
The nurse answered first. "As far as I can tell, she's remained asleep. Brain wave patterns are higher in her, sometimes varying; but Dr. Russell advised me these might be normal for her."
"Doesn't know?"
"No. This one's new to her."
Tony guffawed. "Yeah, to me too. Bo?"
"She hasn't moved. Well, she has, but just tossing and turning -- a lot. Very restless sleeper."
"Hmmm," he mumbled. He wondered if it was a sign of anything; but with humans, it could be a dozen things, and she was not human. "Okay, you're relieved until 09:15. I know it's only four hours, but after that, I will work on arrangements."
"Understood, sir."
Tony found out from the nurse that Helena and Bob had to schedule a surgery for Diane Bell, the critical patient. He let Cynthia get back to work, which seemed to be a lot of reading, while he settled in to do the same, looking up once and awhile to check the Psychon. Sure enough, she did seem to be a restless sleeper. That, and Dr. Ben Vincent walking in to check with Cynthia on Maya's status, distracted Tony from his work. A few minutes after Ben left, Tony noticed Maya mouthing something, and stood up to hit the button. It was a single alien word, "ina," which she repeated again. Then she turned over and was quiet again. At this rate, it will be tomorrow before I catch up with these reports.
Not ten minutes later, he saw her saying something again, turned on the speaker again, and caught, "... rana, Tony, leit'eesk tral," before she fell silent again.
Great, now I'm hearing my name spoken from her dream or whatever and have no idea what she just said. He jotted her words down, the best he could, not sure if he would ask her at some point or not, but wanting the option. He separately added the word ina.
This time, he left the speaker active, wanting to hear if she spoke again. What he got for the next hour was nothing but her turning over in bed every ten minutes, which was even more annoying than not knowing what she had said. He caught Adams looking at him briefly with irritation. Maya was making him jumpy for no good reason, and the nurse was getting annoyed with all of it. So he hit the 'L' to disengage the connection.
"She's been doing that for hours, Mr. Verdeschi," she was already saying. "Nothing more. I don't know if it's normal or if she's in shock, but these monitors will tell me if she shows more signs of stirring."
Great, now the nurse is giving me veiled security tips. Finally, though, he settled into his report, and got on a roll.
W-345 DAB 0500-0900: Nightmares and Semi-Accidents
"Helena!"
John awoke with a start, a horrible image in mind, of Helena working in the Psychon mines, mindlessly, a slave of Mentor.
Most of the rest of the dream came back to him moments later -- and he wish it hadn't. John escaping from Mentor only to stumble into the caverns and find Helena, Alan, Bill, Ray, Lew, Tony, Bob, Ben.... Helena, everyone. Helena.
05:05.
Mentor had put him in an awful, desperate spot. John sometimes had nightmares about some of his encounters, and if so, usually most often in the days afterwards; and otherwise scattered about over time. Not surprisingly, Psychon was giving John nightmares.
If John was finding so much horror in the memory of watching her go through it, what about Helena herself, who had actually gone through a little of it? He had two reasons to call Medical Center. One was to check on casualty status, one to find out if Helena was there. If not, it was too early to just call her. He found out from Ben that Helena was seeing to a surgery on their critical patient, Diane Bell, but that the others were continuing to improve.
He checked with Command Center, on status in general and on Sandra, who had been keeping rather exhausting hours. After informing him status, and still needing to find Maya a 'friendly' room, she insisted on staying on duty until after a 09:30 meeting with Tony. After the loss of Paul, Sandra seemed to find solace in keeping busy.
An hour later, he was heading towards the damaged part of the base, to follow up with Chief Architect Karedepoulos regarding the damage there that had led to the death of Jane Clemens.
Mentor's attack had pinpointed the floor of the top-most level, which had exploded outwards, piercing the outer hull and also the floor one level down, decompressing three levels in that fortunately relatively-confined area. Jane Clemens had been on the lowest of the three, perhaps even on her way out, when she was caught. About twenty rooms had been exposed. Some were piled with boxes and storage cubes from the move, and other rooms near them remained empty, all in preparation for the final unpacking steps still left from the last, incomplete stages of massive moving project. According to Sandra, a cursory computer inventory revealed probable material losses to be minor. Much of what was stored there could take vacuum and extreme cold with repairable or no damage; and the rest, though a loss Alpha didn't need, could be replaced or lived without.
John reached the area, on the upper-most floor in the damaged area, where most of the damage was, two levels above where Jane had died. Two Service Section personnel were here, one holding John's own spacesuit, retrieved from one of the many spacesuit storage closets scattered about the base in proximity to living quarters, and some less personalized ones scattered elsewhere. He was informed Karedepoulos was already in the compromised area. Two bulkheads were being used as an ad hoc airlock.
Chief Architect Alexander Karedepoulos looked at the commander, wondering how Commander Koenig would react to his curious but troubling hypothesis.
They were both suited up, staring at the bizarre damage. The floor they were standing on, in their spacesuits, was mostly smooth, except for some shrapnel damage; but further beyond them, looked like it had been boiled and baked, for it grew increasingly irregular and discolored, until it looked outright different, more irregular, the bumps and depressions varying more and more in height, depth, width, and strange coloration (in just about every color), until they reached the jagged, highly irregular edge of a hole through the floor and the wall to neighboring rooms. It was the strange remains of part of the Psychon attack, up close. Looking up, he could see numerous puncture holes showed black space beyond. They ranged in size from many pencil-width ones to one a couple meters across.
They exchanged some words, mostly Karedepoulos pointing out particular bits of very strange damage, at a couple points saying things like: "I don't think some of this is really metal or plastic any more, especially all these purple and blue splotches"; and "Some walls seem to be coated with some original material, like it was melted, and then sprayed on the walls, but too uniformly in some places. In other places, the spray seems to be something alien."
They then left this area, back through the bulkheads being used as an airlock. The Service personnel helped them out of their suits. One Service person took the commander's suit back to storage, while the other took Alexander's suit to a neighboring room, followed by the two themselves. Alex had taken over this empty room to set up a temporary post, and within a few moments, they were alone. Some of the neighboring rooms were one of Zoology's scattered clusters. Fortunately -- if anything could be considered fortunate given the loss of a human life nearby -- the animals already here had all been on the safe side of the bulkheads.
"As strange as it sounds," Alex started immediately, "I do not think Mentor was shooting to kill; well, at least not her -- at least not at that moment."
"Why do you say that?" the Commander asked.
"Clemens was not in the immediate area of the damage, nor was anyone else; but when this area was decompressed, the first bulkhead failed to seal, so a second activated as a result, but Jane was caught between the two of them."
"In an unsealed area she could not escape."
Alexander nodded, then said, "Commander, do you know what kind of weapon Mentor used, or have you interrogated Maya about..." -- at the commander's darkening expression at that word, he changed it -- "I mean asked Maya about it? It might help me understand the extent of the damage and maybe how to repair it."
"What do you think it was?"
"Sir? Oh, I'm glad you asked, because I can say for sure it was not laser damage, because it did not punch a hole inward from the outside. Something happened inside and exploded outward. But it was not a bomb, not like anything I could guess at, other than it looked like the structure itself somehow became highly unstable and blew up."
For some reason, the Commander looked a bit surprised, or perhaps even impressed, by Alexander's hypothesis. The Commander said nothing for several seconds, seemingly scrutinizing Alexander for some reason. "Molecular transformation," he finally said.
"Sir? You want me to check for chemical byproducts of the explosion?"
"No, the... well, yes, check what you think makes sense, or is critical; but the weapon was molecular transformation."
"Molecular transformation? You mean Mentor was remotely transforming the base's superstructure into something explosive? All the way from Psychon?" The Commander nodded. "My God," Alex continued. "Yesterday, you said that destroying Mentor's... technology freed energy that destroyed the whole planet?"
"The planet was already unstable, and it was complicated; but basically, yes."
"My God," Alex could only repeat himself at first. "I am no physicist, but that speaks of incredible power. He could have leveled the whole base, if not the Moon -- maybe. No wonder you arranged for Mr. Verdeschi to send that Eagle."
The Commander said nothing. Some of the information would probably remain 'eyes only' for the officers, Alexander suspected. So he moved on. "Then I really need to talk to Maya about this, to find out if she knows how contained such damage might be."
Though Alex had proffered his service, he was not happy about the prospect. The last thing he wanted was to see an alien, after another had killed Jane Clemens -- and had revealed a flaw in Alpha's maintenance or design. Still, it was, according to implications in the commander's words now and before, not Maya's fault, and there were repairs to be made. Duty was duty.
"I will get back to you on that," the commander said. "If we assume it will be at least a day or two before that can happen, is there other prep work for the repairs?"
"Several days worth: further investigation; analyzing the needs regarding replacing the obviously-damaged parts of superstructure, electronics, piping, ventilation; and we're going to have to scan every square centimeter of several levels, for integrity, anyway, but that will take a lot of time too."
"Right, that makes sense." The Commander paused, then asked, "Then what do you need to talk to Maya about?"
"If she can take a look at it directly, and point out an approximate range of, ah, likely molecular transformation, I can at least start supplying some repair time, material, and resource estimates, even if she is uncertain. Plus, even though I think I know what to look for, she may have some other points I... would not have thought of." The last was not easy to admit, but if the alien knew something more about this very alien mode of attack, he was not about to pass it by. He'd talk to her -- for the sake of Alpha.
"That is logical. Fine, after a few days, and as soon as Maya is ready, I will bring her here and all of us can take a look and have a discussion. A professional discussion."
The Commander's emphasis on the last was a clear signal he was expecting Karedepoulos to be civil about it. "Of course." Alexander might be annoyed about all of this, but he had no interest wasting time and energy hassling her. Her murderous father might have revealed some flaw in Alpha's systems, but she was apparently innocent of it. Just as he was thinking about the bulkhead again, the Commander brought it up.
"So what happened with the one failed bulkhead?"
"That is still not clear, though I suspect a flaw somewhere, either design or maintenance, unfortunately."
"Not damage from shrapnel?"
"No, it appears not. I then plan on having both motors swapped, so we can bring that bulkhead down and bring the second one up and regain a few more rooms not otherwise damaged. I'll send the current motors to Technical for analysis, along with some circuit boards. Electrical Engineer van der Mir indicated he would have no problem making that a priority."
"Okay, good. Keep me apprised. Karedepoulos, until further notice, the molecular transformation part is confidential information. So is the partially-accidental nature of Jane's death, until the cause is clearer and I can talk with those closest to her. Understood?"
"Absolutely, Commander." That explained Koenig's scrutiny earlier, before mentioning molecular transformation. Regardless, Alexander had no intention of betraying that trust.
W-345 DAB 0930-1100: Arranging Accommodations
After four hours, Bokessu returned to Medical Care Unit 4 to take guard duty, seeing to the safety of the still-sleeping Psychon, freeing up Tony to meet with Sandra regarding where to put Maya. They moved to Meeting Room CC, near Command Center.
Sandra had a chart of one living quarters section, and had written Maya's name in it, among lots of other names. It would have been easier just giving her an officer's or guest quarters, but the latter was clearly wrong for all the incorrect signals that would give out, and the former was equally inappropriate and would probably incite equally poor reactions for other reasons. Yes, standard lower-level single crew quarters were the right way to go.
At first, Tony argued for settling the Psychon a little further apart. "Isn't there somewhere a little more quiet, near the edge?" he asked. "Like here," he added, pointing to a nearly-empty stretch of rooms. That level's accommodations were small, with many quarters, and there were a lot more gaps at the edges than where Sandra had found a spot.
Sandra looked at him askance, saying, "Why? After what the Commander said yesterday, she needs friends, Tony, not isolation. It would send an awful message to her and everyone else if the officers stuck her off in some corner by herself. My choice will be better for Maya, and in a way, better for everyone, to adapt to her being part of the community."
He expressed concerns about security, but Sandra argued a little more, and he begrudgingly came to see her point. As far as potential danger to Maya, as long as she kept her door locked.... So he accepted her argument. Still, Tony more carefully looked over the chosen location for Maya. None of the people near her room had met Maya yet, but none of the names jumped out at him as a potential threat to the alien, but still.... "This seems okay; but I should bring her to meet each in turn, on neutral ground."
"Neutral ground? They are not at war with each other."
"And maybe a meeting in a professional setting rather than right in someone's personal setting will keep it that way."
"She is going to be living near their 'personal setting' as you call it."
As Sandra had argued further against Tony's semi-isolating Maya, Tony argued further for introducing Maya on neutral ground. In the end, Sandra came to agree with Tony's stand here as he had with her earlier stand.
"Okay," she said, "but I would not present it as an option, just as an introduction to a made decision."
"Agreed. I'll still watch for extreme reactions."
"As will I."
"What do you mean?"
"I think I should come along as well."
"Why?"
"Second pair of eyes, and if necessary -- what is the term in security circles? -- good cop, bad cop?"
"What, you're the bad cop, Sahn?"
"Tony! You know what I mean, and I do not mean it as an insult."
"Yeah, fine, I get what you mean."
"I think I should carry out some of the introductions too."
By 'some,' Tony thought he heard a message of Sandra thinking it best for a woman to carry out the introductions to other women, and Tony carry out the introductions to the men. It made sense to him, so he nodded, and they wrapped up the discussion. As Tony left, he decided that Sandra had actually done a rather good job making the arrangements -- and arguing with Tony. He chuckled. Maybe there was some spark left in her.
After Tony left, Sandra shook her head. Couldn't Tony see Maya had no one and nowhere else to go -- except Alphans and the Moonbase? Though the suspicious type, he did not seem anti-alien per se, just very cautious, and she hoped that was all it was now, and that he would get over it.
As seconds in command, Tony had a very different temperament from Paul. Paul was usually steady, with occasional bursts of emotion, while Tony expressed various emotions yet still seemed to have a steady, even approach and actions. Paul had been the consummate professional, while Tony was prone to lots of wisecracks. Sandra had respected Tony's work in Security, but despite her own reliable judgment about people, had had doubts about the Commander making the Security Officer into his second-in-command.
Yet after the decision was made, and Sandra accepted it for what it was, she had started seeing the wisdom of the Commander's decision. John was hyper-serious, and so had Paul been. They thought a lot alike in some ways, though different in others. The similar thinking made Paul incredibly good as a potential replacement if John should have fallen at some point, and there were others to provide the varying viewpoints; yet now, with so many officers lost, Tony had become the second, and he brought a different set of perspectives.
The discussion she had just had with him prompted her to start understanding more of the Commander's decision. Tony could actually negotiate well, could accept when he was wrong, and could even be diplomatic overall, even while retaining suspicions or poking some light humor into often-serious proceedings.
She was not used to that, though, and found herself having to adjust to yet another change. At least he wasn't overbearing, except.... He had been over her arguing to contact the Commander over Directive 4, though in hindsight, she was starting to doubt herself. She just had not been able to stand the thought of losing so many more people again, and it had overwhelmed her. That was happening a lot now, and she didn't know how to stop it.
Tony was now at his desk at Command Center, John talking to someone, Bill having taken over for Sandra. Tony looked up at the Big Screen: Psychon's remains, thinning somewhat. They weren't even that large on the screen, despite their obviously continuing to spread out. He punched several buttons and found out the telescope the screen was reading from was at maximum magnification. It wouldn't be long before the last of Psychon was gone from sight. Except for Maya, came the stray thought. Surprisingly, he felt no annoyance in the thought. Not in this context. She deserved a chance. It just felt different at this moment, leaving a system as had happened plenty before, but this time staring at the remains of a destroyed planet, and taking an alien survivor with them out of the system.
John finished his discussion, and they moved to the same meeting room Tony had left not long ago. Sandra was gone now. John opened up with discussion of the Chief Architect's theory, that death of Jane Clemens, wasn't just caused by Mentor, but some flaw in one of the emergency bulkheads. Greg's potential reaction was discussed, Tony saying, "Yeah, and if there is maintenance blame over the flaw, we've got some unpleasantness."
"I know, but there may be no blame either, at least on Alpha. Did you read or hear about that Eagle venting flaw discovered when Alan and Dr. Linden were looking for other enhancement possibilities?"
"Well, I wasn't really involved, but you mean the one where they thought internal scanners in the pilot module's recycling system could malfunction, decide the oxygen was poisonous, and vent it all into space, including from the reserve tanks?"
"That's the one, except it was the pod's system -- most pod types -- that had the flaw. The pilot module's was a separate design."
"Never actually turned into an accident, that I heard."
"Thankfully, no. It was a ten-year-old design flaw no one had caught and fixed until after Breakaway."
"There shouldn't be all these design flaws when it comes to our atmosphere."
"Hmph," John replied. "We could spend an hour talking design theory, complex systems, and human imperfection -- if not more. There will be further investigation over Clemens."
"Okay, my comment was a little uncalled for. Eagles are very complex spaceships -- even if Maya may take one look at them and call them primitive junk-"
"Actually, she's been very polite, and according to Alan, complimented one aspect, the modularity principle, as being very unique."
Tony was a little surprised. "Never thought the day would come when an alien would compliment one of our spaceships." Then he had paused, and added, "Just humouring us?"
"No. What I heard is that she was showing genuine interest and offering an honest compliment."
The discussed how far the investigation should go, Tony at one point wondering, "Why not just a base-wide and fleet-wide review of all atmosphere-handling systems for any possible flaw?"
"This investigation will take some resources as it is. We'll let it finish, and consider the bigger question then."
"I guess that's reasonable."
They discussed the status of some of the more minor, lower priority damage taken in some departments, and among a few bits, Tony mentioned repotting needs in Botany.
"I hear that a little too often from one person or another," the Commander said.
"I know. Lena is tired of it, and is going to see about cracking some heads."
"Good. I'm beginning to wonder if some reshuffling may be in order there. Let me know if that resolves or continues."
It was no secret Tony and Lena were a couple, but there was a clear subtext that this discussion was Commander and First Officer, and that Tony's personal views about Lena, and any interest he might have in her advancement, were not relevant in this.
This base had become too closed of a system to avoid such entanglements, and even the more military parts of the base had seen some blurring set in, not just over relationships, but in other aspects, especially as the original astronaut corps had lost so many and civilians had been brought in. The already quirky nature of Alpha's being quasi-military was starting to further change, and that meant a greater measure of personal responsibility became even more important, as contradictory as that might seem. Koenig was relying on Verdeschi to give as unbiased a report as possible, the First Officer was not about to do otherwise, and it was still the Commander's responsibility to filter any such report to eliminate any fragment of bias that might remain. Even then, it was not necessarily a perfect system. Alpha, however, was perhaps not just a base any more, but their whole society -- or the beginnings of one.
W-345 DAB 1100-1400: Nightmares and Files
As Helena was returning to MCU-4, with some material to look over, as well as a form to start filling in, she spotted Tony headed her way, carrying a small stack of papers. He looked a lot more alert than she felt, but she still had more to do yet.
Overnight, after only a couple hours of still surprisingly dreamless sleep, Helena had to perform surgery on Diane Bell. It had progressed as well as she could have hoped for, with some relatively minor organ suture needed, and a little more work to relieve the pressure from the damaged vertebra on the compromised spinal cord. The prognosis on the latter problem was still unknown. Afterwards, she had checked in the handful of other patients still left in Medical Center, found they were all improving, and discharged one.
Now, after having entered the outer room of MCU-4, and getting a verbal report from Cynthia that Maya was still sleeping, albeit restlessly all the way through, Helena got the rest of the report from Cynthia and dismissed her. Verdeschi similarly soon dismissed Bokessu.
Maya's readings were still fairly consistent as yesterday's. Maybe it was normal for a Psychon, or an after-effect of shock. She'd have to get such readings at intervals, for awhile at least, especially as some stress might further wear off.
She turned to see Tony looking at Maya with a guarded expression. Helena decided that confronting and perhaps antagonizing Tony over his suspicions, at least at this point, would serve no one, least of all Maya. Better to save her words for when they might count the most. Instead, Helena simply said, "Let's give her another half hour."
They both settled in to look at some work.
It was twenty minutes of quiet vigil and work when something beeped -- not a commlock, but a medical monitor. Helena checked it, and Tony stood up to look through the window at Maya. She saw Maya's readings were rising. The brain wave patterns were erratic, not any of the patterns Helena had observed so far. Her pulse was up, the blood pressure increasing, and she was starting to breathe faster.
"Looks like she's having a nightmare," Tony observed.
Helena walked over to take a look. "Yes, I was wondering if this would happen."
Its intensity seemed to grow, and she seemed to be mouthing words. Tony turned on the sound monitor, and they got back a stream of choppy alien sentences: "Ina, Addawa! Rana. Psyche sol'eeka kor. Ina, Mentor. Trea'ka! Rana taka maneh. Ranina draktae Mentor! INAAAAA!"
There was a long silence, in which Maya still seemed stressed, and the monitor's made renewed sounds, and Helena walked back to it. Tony was going to go inside, but Helena said, "Wait, if it gets worse, I will, but--"
"Worse? Listen to her--"
"She's going to have nightmares. Let her get some of it out right away -- where we can monitor."
Maya started again, still in Psychon, her words unclear but her tone now one of unmistakable fear. "Ranina irtae! Iestaka irtae?! Drati noz! Doryon noz. Eesahn! Psyche na irtae, aaz Maya. Inaaaaa."
Maya went silent, but the brain wave patterns did not calm, but instead intensified, chaotically. "Oh, this is new," Helena said.
"New good, or new bad?"
Tony found it surprisingly difficult to watch. He had wondered through her sleeping about her higher brainwave patterns and restlessness, but now that she looked like she was having a nightmare, he found himself willing to give her the benefit of the doubt she really was having an actual nightmare -- and he didn't like just watching it.
Helena's answer to his question was not spoken, but obvious, for she immediately rushed into the room where Maya was, followed by Tony, just as the alien woman started whimpering, gasping, as if struggling. "Easy, Maya, wake up!" Helena called.
"You're safe," Tony added, trying to help while still staying back a bit, but rushing in to help restrain Maya when she started screaming. She jerked up a moment later, opening her eyes wide, looking at them in terror for a moment as her scream continued briefly from nightmare to consciousness. Neither Tony nor Helena consciously noticed Maya's outlines blur slightly for a fraction of a second just as she gained consciousness, but Tony glanced about her for a moment, like he had caught something out of the "corner" of his eye. He promptly dismissed it, at a semi-conscious level, for if she had made some sort of move he thought was threatening, it was momentary, and surely because she had woken up in a state of clear terror.
She then started calming, even as she breathlessly said, "Ohhh. Anra, Helena, Detraziran Verdeschi. Rana seelkor wir--"
"Easy, Maya, easy. You are speaking Psychon," Tony said, wondering vaguely what detraziran meant.
She looked at them, seemingly calming more quickly, taking some breaths, then blinking hard. "Sorry, Helena, Tony. Please--"
"Easy, just calm down some more," Helena said, still restraining Maya.
She did finally start calming, but did not want to discuss the nightmare, understandably enough. She and Tony returned to more work while Maya showered. Helena put in a call to have some additional portable equipment to be brought here. Maya re-emerged a little while later, brushing her damp hair, then settling back in to let Helena run some scans.
Dr. Ben Vincent brought in some equipment, at which point he and Maya were introduced, Tony then returning to the anteroom and engaging the listen button but otherwise letting the doctors see to their work. He kept an eye out for trouble, but Maya seemed to put up with all the checks with patience.
Eventually, Ben left, and Tony overheard Helena say to Maya, "There's some equipment in the main Medical Center too, and in MCU-1 -- that is another unit sort of like this, upstairs. We'll wait, however. For now, let's just go to the other room."
Helena was going to ask Tony to leave the room and secure the door, while she got some information from Maya, but she was struck by a thought....
"Maya, do you mind if I ask you some basic questions, to start a medical file with? Nothing very personal yet, just some simple questions."
"Ask me whatever questions you wish," she responded quietly.
"Would you prefer Tony leave the room while you answer?"
Maya looked at the door, then back at Tony, and said, "No, this is fine."
Helena got a distinct impression that though Maya was well aware of Tony's unease with her, she trusted he would protect her regardless, and took some comfort in his presence being more immediate. Helena's main point, though, was for Maya to let Tony listen and Tony hear that Maya had a background, to "humanize" her a little for the semi-suspicious security officer. "Tony, can you get a chair for her to sit on the other side of the desk?" He did so, and was polite about it.
In the meantime, before Maya had even sat down, she had noticed Helena's typewriter. Maya held her hand at the neckline of the pajama top and leaned down to look at the hardware with unabashed curiosity.
During the move, the typewriter had ended up here for some unknown reason, rather than Helena's office. This had ironically given her an excuse to come down to MCU-4 now and then after her main shift was over, away from Medical Center and her own office where she was often interrupted, and just quietly type up a few reports. She'd send the nurse on duty to do some partial inventories or other minor tasks elsewhere. The paper redundancy over key medical files was vital. Breakaway had permanently wiped out certain records in Main Computer, fortunately no important medical files; but it was enough to warn Helena that her old habit was still good. Besides that, the sound of keys striking paper was soothing, perhaps from it being a sound she had heard frequently in the family home when growing up.
Helena sat down and decided to demonstrate, signaling the Psychon over to her side of the desk. Helena turned the typewriter, took a page of scrap paper and put it in the device, then typed Maya's name.
"A mechanical key'board?" Maya asked.
"Yes. It's called a typewriter. Electric typewriter in this case."
"Is there a non-electric typewriter?"
"There are. I think there is one on Alpha somewhere, but perhaps not. Here, you try."
Maya brought one hand down, and pecked at the keys to type "helena", tried the space key, then "tony" -- before asking, "How did you access capitalized letters?"
Helena told her about that and the key to advance to the next line, then turned it around and let Maya sit down on the other side of the desk and experiment for a minute while Helena hunted for the form in her stack of papers. Maya was watching the action of the keys very closely, clearly trying to discern the working properties of the device. Once Helena found the form again and pulled it out, Maya immediately noticed and promptly turned the typewriter around for Helena.
"Actually, I'm not going to type up the file until later. I'll just take quick notes for now." Helena turned off the typewriter and set it aside, but not before noticing the complete results of Maya's experiments:
helena tony
Janina, Sandra, Commander Koenig,
Moonbase Alpha, Eagle space'ship,
Alan, Captain Pilot, Bill Fraser, Annet Fraser.
Travel Tube, Command Center. tape. Medcare'unit 4.
Maya's sense of spelling was a bit off, but she had already noticed the correct spelling of 'Alpha' from somewhere, probably the "Welcome to Moonbase Alpha" sign when exiting the Eagle through the docking tube, something Helena had stopped noticing a long time ago. She had gotten everyone's last name correct, probably from name badges, but not "Annette," since only an initial was listed for the first name. On the rest, Maya would likely correct herself as she saw more words and names in written form, so Helena let it be, wanting to get onto the questions.
"Okay," Helena said, retrieving a pen from the desk, and quickly rescanning the form, which was one of the World Space Commission Medical Authority forms, rather formal and detailed regarding patient information and history. They could not be filed with the WSCMA any more, but it made for a handy place to jot information and later use to build a computer record as well. Helena had no intention of asking Maya all of these questions immediately and in front of Tony. No need to seem like she was interrogating the Psychon, some of the questions and answers would probably take explaining, and despite Maya's statement, Helena would have feel out the Psychon's tolerance for personal questions. Maybe some of the questions would not make sense to ask for awhile, if at all.
So for now, it would start simple. First name was obvious: Maya. Then it promptly stopped being simple. Helena had to wonder how to categorize "Daughter of Mentor" to fit the form -- and the matching fields in the computer record. Last name? Name Title? Name Suffix? Alternate Name didn't fit either. Daughter of Mentor was not a family name, tribal, clannish -- though it was obviously familial. "Maya, how do you use the 'Daughter of Mentor' aspect?"
"Not like your people have multi-part names. It is rarely used. Just in certain highly-formal introductions, infrequently even then -- or where there is ambiguity. It is called... a clarifier. Since the Commander already introduced me with it; that is sufficient, and does not need to be used again. You can just introduce me as Maya from this point."
Helena decided it wasn't really a last name, nor a title. It was almost more akin to a suffix, but she knew the computer would allow for only a handful of letters there, not an entire phrase. She eyed Alternate Name again, and when she thought of including "Maya" too, it made perfect sense, so she wrote:
"Maya, Daughter of Mentor" [some frml intros; "clarifier"]
The Gender line was easy. She jotted "Psychon" for Ethnicity. Despite all of recent history, there was still a good reason to note ethnicity in medical records, even back on Earth: racial background sometimes correlated to higher or lower incidence of some diseases and conditions, and occasional differences in physical reaction to treatments.
After having thought about the one question, and not looking up, she blurted out the next question without thinking: "Birth Date?"
Maya similarly blurted out an answer. "Third day of Tayad, 6752. Oh... that means nothing now--"
"It is still your birthday, so it means something," Helena decided, "and I will note it. 6752?" Maya nodded. "But I do need a conversion." Before Helena could even check for a solar-cell calculator in the desk drawer, Maya immediately answered.
"747.7932 rotations of your -- the -- Moon."
"Uh," Tony started, looking surprised, "we don't really count time that way here. Besides, the Moon's rotation has been sped up over time as we encounter planets and such."
Maya paused for awhile, questions on her face, but seemed to hold them in favor of keeping to the topic at hand. "Then is it by that circular chronometer making turns over there from one to one?"
"One to one?" Helena said. "Oh, you mean twelve to twelve?" As soon as she said it, she had to suppress a laugh. MCU-4 was one of the small number of rooms on Alpha with numbered clock faces -- no one was sure why. Helena was not surprised when Maya's brow wrinkled a bit.
"I do? You start counting at twelve?"
"On clocks like that, yes," Tony jumped in. "12, 1, 2, 3, and so on to 11 and then 12 again." Maya still looked puzzled, yet said nothing this time, so he hastily added, "I know it does not make much sense, and don't know why it is that way, but it is traditional for that kind of clock."
"I meant no harm."
"None taken at all."
Before they could explain about other timekeeping systems, Maya gave a new figure: "18919.951 days."
Helena looked at Tony, surprised.
"Maya, how are you calculating these numbers so quickly?" Tony asked.
As if there were nothing strange about it, she said, "I have observed these chronometers for awhile, and know it has been almost four days since Psychon.... So I did a trivial conversion."
Trivial? Tony thought. Lady's got a calculator in her head. But she thinks she left Psychon four days ago...? He abruptly realized why, but Helena beat him to it.
"What Tony neglected to mention is it takes two cycles of the clock -- what you called the circular chronometer -- to make a full day. Unless you're looking at a 24-hour counter. The clock is 12-hour, half a day."
Maya looked bewildered, but soon pushed that aside, saying, "9459.977 days."
To his surprise, Tony felt a little disappointed she had not expressed amusement at human timekeeping. Yet he had to admit she had a fairly expressive face, and got the sense she had not wanted even that little bit of light annoyance get through. Tony was going to have her compute years or even a specific calendar day, but then thought of the Gregorian Calendar, and all its varying month lengths....
Helena was satisfied with the answer. She'd get it converted later. For now, she simply jumped to the General Notes section and adding notes there, including transferring over the information she and Tony had obtained from Sandra yesterday.
b.dt (Psy. cal): Third Day of Tayad, 6752.
age (Earth days): 9459.977; @345DAB 12:50 LT.
Psy day = 33.464 Earth hours, +/- 0.2% (33h27m50s +/- 25s).
Psy yr = ?
She returned back to the original spot and jotted "Gen Notes" in the Birth Date line.
In Birth Place, she almost wrote "Psychon" -- but decided she might as well record more detail on this too. It somehow seemed better to treat Maya as if her past history, however much of it referred to a now-nonexistent planet, still mattered to someone more than just Maya. Maybe it would even show her that she should not forget or repress her past.
Eetria, Triska Hills, Manos Province, Psychon.
Helena wasn't sure she wanted to ask Last Residence now, so she just jotted "Psy" and moved to the next question, which was Curr Residence, to which she simply wrote "TBD, MBA." She skipped a few more questions she didn't want to bother with now. Birth Mother and Birth Father resulted in the same sort of name+clarifier combinations, but out of curiosity, she asked for the grandmothers' names too, and jotted them in parentheses:
Mentor, Son of Yetror (& Mendia) [of Psy];
Taylia, Daughter of Liakvut (& Yutoa) [""]
She looked at what she had written, thinking there was something lyrical about the collection of names, but not sure why. She repeated the names to confirm with Maya, yet just to hear the names again, before moving on.
Not surprisingly, Maya had never been married, but Helena decided to avoid asking how long she had been cut off from any other Psychons, feeling this might bring back more immediate emotional trauma.
The questions on the form only went further, and Helena's eyes skimmed across a sampling: prior physician, a moot point; prior conditions; current medications; past injuries of note; past operations. Helena hoped Maya did not have some prior condition requiring treatment, because that could be something Helena would not be able to help with. The questions were all getting more detailed and personal. More questions for private or later, if at all.
Just as Helena was deciding she had run out of initial questions suitable in this forum, Mathias came in with the initial blood report, so Dr. Russell scanned that quickly.
Maya's blood had clotted with all human ABO blood types, so Helena considered a new type letter, while also noticing Maya had a negative Rh factor. Helena was initially going to designate Type P-, for Psychon, but there could be several Psychon types, just as there were several human types. Not that she was expecting another Psychon to appear at some point, but an alternate occurred to Helena that seemed more pleasing: Y-. A letter that was in both "Psychon" and "Maya." Afterwards, she thought that maybe she should just ask Maya about multiple types, but already satisfied with her choice, decided this could be one of those details that could wait. Besides, the letters 'B' and 'P' were just a little too similar -- another case where Helena didn't want accidental mix-ups, something which in this case could be dangerous and even lethal.
Helena knew Maya would have to be a self-donor, build up a stock of her own blood, in case of later need. Recent developments in blood storage for use during space exploration would allow Helena to accumulate a store of Y- without requiring as frequent a pace of replacement as would have been needed before. Helena would have to work a short- and long-term donation schedule that would both allow a relatively fast build-up early on, slower later, and spread-out replacement, such that within a few years, new draws could be on a regular, occasional interval. This would also have the benefit of there always being some "fresher" units to use in cases of need. Dr. Russell discussed self-donation briefly, and Maya quickly understood and accepted the need. They could start tomorrow or the next day.
So already, Helena would have something more for the Psychon Specials than just an information card.
Helena turned to the rest of the preliminary blood panel results. She was surprised to find the red blood cell mass was actually very slightly lower than human average, which given prior readings left Helena wondering how Maya's body kept her pulse oxygenation at virtually the same level as human average, given her slightly lower pulse and blood pressure. That Alpha's partial oxygen pressure might be a little higher perhaps did not fully explain everything. She wondered if maybe the hemoglobin density was higher, or that there was some other efficiency Helena was not aware of. Further tests were already being carried out, so maybe some answers would come in a few days. She reminded herself to check on for any survey results. Minor blood group classifications could be interesting too, not to mention DNA. More blood samples over coming days would allow more analysis -- though the DNA analysis would take the longest of the currently ongoing tests, however. The next blood sample would be more than she had ever been able to analyze of a living alien, and since Maya was going to be a resident, Helena would have to make sure she understood as much of it as she could.
Some of the other data seemed close or essentially at human average. Electrolytic balances were remarkably almost identical on all counts, most within or very close to human-norm ranges -- except a potassium level that had maxed out that particular index at several times human norm, which prompted Helena to decide that particular test should be redone, in case it was false hyperkalemia from hemolysis -- blood cells damaged during the blood draw.
It was fascinating mix of similarities with some subtle or obvious differences. If multiple tests showed the same general readings, she would have to see if the electrolytic panel printout could be adjusted for tests on Maya, to show slightly different centers and ranges. Even where Maya fell within human range, she was sometimes closer to the edge of it, and any future diagnoses could be simpler if adjusted typical averages and ranges could be presented. Still, Helena could not be sure what was Psychon normal, Maya's normal, Maya under stress, or possibly abnormal for her. Accumulating averages and true ranges would take months, if not more. Dr. Russell had to start somewhere, however; and for the moment, had to assume Maya was okay, until she could ask some more detailed questions.
Of course, there was the simplest question of all: "How do you feel?"
"Physically?"
Helena nodded.
"I feel fine. Maybe like I slept too long." After a few seconds, she admitted, "Still a little tense."
"Understandable," Helena said softly. "The detailed tests will take a couple days; and more will have to be run. Electrolyte levels are very similar for the most part; and for now I'll have to assume they are fairly normal for you, though I can't be sure because you haven't eaten in awhile. So let's say we get you some food. The food provided for Medical Center is fairly neutral" -- Helena could see Tony smothering a smile as she continued -- "so don't worry about it, and just take it slowly if you want." Dr. Russell of course wanted Maya to resume eating, and tried to make it sound like there was no real other choice, while trying to sound gentle about it at the same time. She was determined that if Maya didn't eat, though, it would then become a medical issue. "Do you think you can eat a full meal?"
"Yes, Doctor."
Though Maya's verbal response was restrained, Helena could see Maya's nodding was rather more vigorous than that, and the doctor was pleased. She called Nurse Adams on the commlock and instructed her to bring a full meal. "Regular diet."
When the call was done, Maya said, "Thank you, Doctor."
Maya was being very, very polite. Charming in its own way, and very understandable, but somewhat overboard in this case. She wanted Maya to feel like she had a friend. "Maya?"
"Yes, Doctor Russell?"
Helena smiled. "Please call me Helena."
"Doctor Helena?"
Helena smiled more widely. "Just Helena, please."
"Okay, Helena." Maya finally smiled for the first time that day, showing the first greater animation since her curiosity over the typewriter. Then the Psychon's stomach growled. "Oh, that was my... stomach. It is because I am hungry. I was understating--"
Tony laughed briefly, but in a more relaxed way. "Maya, we know that sound too."
Fortunately, the meal arrived not long after. Maya seemed to perk up a little just at the smell of it. She began eating it, and Helena noticing at first very tentatively with each item. Yet Maya was soon eating heartily, and saying, "This is very good!"
Tony could not stop himself this time, giving a restrained guffaw, then letting loose with an open laugh. Maya paused in the middle of bringing a spoonful of broth to her mouth, and looked at him with a most human yet alien look of puzzlement over something most people on Earth would not have been puzzled about. "It's hospital food, Maya. No offense Helena, but I don't know who likes it."
"Mentor and I had limited resources in the shelter," Maya said as she quickly resumed eating. "Enough to feed us well, but with little variety. Mostly just food'bars containing a balanced mix of artificial proteins, carbohydrons, lipids, miscellaneous enhanced nutrients, and... and...."
"Vitamins?" Helena offered.
"I don't know that word. Maybe that's what I mean."
"We can figure it out later. Oh, and it is carbohydrates, not carbohydrons."
"Thank you," Maya said as she started digging more into the mixed vegetables, then added, "Plus some leaves and other natural vegetable matter grown from... a garden I kept."
Tony looked almost horrified. "Okay, I take it back. We don't have the best selection; but suddenly hospital food sounds better than bland bars and an occasional salad. We had those some time back too, the bars I mean. Called 'energy bars' or some such, and I think a few people ate them almost exclusively -- but unlike you, they did it by choice! No replacement for a good platter of lasagna and a heaping salad -- at least you've had that."
"Lasana? No."
"I meant the salad. It's lasagna, by the way. Layers of pasta, tomato sauce, cheeses, and some other vegetables or meat. Well, that's the real thing, but we've had to do some substitutions. Not the same, but still better than bland bars."
Maya looked at Tony with a funny expression as he talked, apparently finding his words -- or his animated tone at least -- amusing even if some of what he talked about was out of her frame of reference. Finally, into a moment of silence, Maya said, with a tentative voice, "I would like to try the... lasagna some time."
Helena stifled a smile. Tony's tone -- at least he's being a little nicer to her now -- had seemed to lighten Maya's grimness just a little more, to bring out a little more genuine interest in something Alphan/Terran. Maya was tentatively extending a bit of herself towards them, and Helena quickly tried to think of something nice to alert Tony before he might trample all over it.
Yet Tony caught the moment, apparently surprised more than anything, and just in time, pausing just as he was probably going to start getting onto the merits of the right wine or even (sadly enough) beer to go with the meal. "Sure, I'll find out when it is next on the menu of one of the cafeterias. Like I said, it's hardly the best, but I can vouch for it being three steps or more above what you are eating."
Helena wished Tony would offer to try preparing some of his own lasagna, which was quite tasty by Alphan standards. A large batch of that shared by the current group and a couple others could make for a nice event. Helena decided Tony's current offer, however, was still a small step in the right direction.
W-345 DAB 1300-1500: Accumulating Inaccuracies
Douglas McLeod was annoyed. Someone just had to have measured the Moon's new rotation rate incorrectly.
It had happened before. Lunar rotation changes had occurred due to passing by planets or the Moon being jarred by unexpected course changes. Miscalculations had occurred before, as well.
The Moon's travels were strange, and though some factors were known via simple equations, others were approximations -- complicated approximations. Besides that, the more objects added to the calculations, the longer they took, exponentially. There had been no Lunar Course calculations while the Moon was still in orbit. Telescope tracking equations were known. All of that had changed after Breakaway. Douglas had spent most of a year reworking equations, starting with the most critical first, then refining them and others as time went on -- in part with Professor Bergman and others, in part on his own. He had spent a lot of time interacting with David Kano on programming. Refinements had been made, and some "chicken and egg" problems meant some approximations were still being improved a little at a time, bouncing around and improving one set, then the next, then several more, until the "first" set needed further improvements. It was all fascinating yet sometimes infuriating at the same time.
Lunar rotation had been a strange wildcard in all of this, and despite the seemingly simple aspect of recalculation, not being in a fixed orbit did add some other difficulties, and some specific calculation runs had been known to be in error.
He recalled his own trouble the other night, trying to find Psychon's moon among the debris. There had been so many variables then, including the obscuring effects of the now-nebulous remains of Psychon. Now, they kept having to nudge the telescope further to the "left" than expected -- further than before. His suspicions fell back on this "old" problem.
He was about to duly restart the rotation calculations, himself this time, when another astronomer, based elsewhere on Alpha and remotely monitoring a satellite-based telescope currently over the other side of the Moon, called in to complain his telescope wasn't tracking well among the features of the gigantic blue nebula spread out ahead and to the left of their path. Of course, it was not hard to find that nebula overall, since it was already spread across 16 degrees of the sky ahead of them, despite it being some distance away yet, but the astronomer wanted to look at various aspects of it in particular, and he was complaining of tracking problems.
Of course, the satellites' orbits were affected by the same forces that imparted more spin to the Moon. In their cases, their orbits were sped up, which thus increased their orbit sizes, each one in a slightly different way due to various factors.
The Moon's strange travels kept astrophysicists busy recalculating everything -- even with Main Computer's help. Douglas resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair at the thought of another long day would be. (Un)fortunately, he didn't currently have a girlfriend, so that wasn't an issue; but he had hoped that this would have been an issue-free post-encounter time, physics-wise, so he could concentrate more on the astronomical side, especially considering what had just happened in this system. After a short discussion, McLeod decided it was time he calculated a relatively simple spherical adjustment. After he did, he would be able to input it, and at least allow more accurate tracking for now.
Before finishing the discussion with the astronomer, Douglas asked him to pipe in the nebula image. This observation room had one of the rare high-quality, larger-sized color monitors, and he just wanted to see something nice-looking before fully plunging back into headache in front of him.
The extensive nebula was a beautiful blue hue, lit up as it was by a number of blue stars seemingly sprinkled in "front" of it. They had seen it for some time already, well before the 6-light-year space warp that had landed the Moon close to the edge of Psychon's star system. At this moment, even on wide view, the nebula barely fit in the view of the small satellite telescope.
There was no official name for it, just a provisional NN330AD -- New Nebula (discovered) 330 (DAB), fourth of that day. Most newly discovered objects never had anything more than a provisional name, but this one had already made enough of an impression that someone had dubbed it Big Blue, after its enormous size and color. They were going to approach but pass well to the "right" of it, affording prime observation -- assuming they didn't drop into another space warp or something first. "Big Blue" was hardly a good formal reference for that type of feature, however, and Douglas didn't like it. He idly wondered if their new resident had a name for it, since it would have been one of the most obvious features in Psychon's sky.
W-345 DAB 1430-1630: Schedule Shell
Sandra called up an order to be ready to prepare a single lower-level living quarters for Maya, but left out the room number. The room was chosen, but she and Tony still had to take Maya to meet her potential new neighbors, and there could be a serious problem. Besides, a firm room number for 'the alien' would spread like wildfire and defeat what she and Tony were intending to do.
She then considered the difference between Lunar Time and a Psychon day. Sandra assumed it was too large for Maya to just adapt to the latter, so she ran a few numbers, found a pleasing combination that seemed to make the most sense, then realized that was all she had, a ratio, since she had no idea how much time a Psychon sleeps, or other such details. She would have to ask.
She then looked up the planned schedules for Maya's intended neighbors, called up an order for a commlock, and called Bill Fraser and put him on standby to take a photograph of Maya.
The birth of babies had sometimes necessitated some room changes for the new families, but babies did not get commlocks, did not need any access information, or whole living quarters to themselves. Alpha had become a closed society. The Kaldorians had been temporary guests. Dione had not remained on Alpha long. Balor had been thrown out -- literally.
This was the first new adult resident needing a commlock since Breakaway, and somehow, it felt refreshing, and Sandra had decided to see to a few more of the details than usual -- the tasks she had mostly delegated with the frequent comings and goings pre-Breakaway. It was a welcome change from the grim reality of overseeing the disassembling of the organization surrounding a person after his or her death, something which she had already started doing and delegating with the four recent deaths.
Finally, with the commander now present, she talked to him briefly, then headed down to Medical Care Unit 4, to see if Maya was awake yet, deciding even if she wasn't, maybe someone else had gotten a few more details.
Maya was surprised at the animated tone that Tony was taking. He still seemed to have a cautious tone, and still kept some distance from her, but her compliments about the new and delicious hospital'food had triggered some sort of amused response in him, and then enthusiastic discussion about lasagna. She had no idea why he was suddenly in such a good mood, but if lasagna was so special.... So she had tentatively expressed interest, curious about what was so great about lasagna, but also to try to make some sort of new social connection, however tentative and tiny, towards him over something he liked. Fortunately, she had judged correctly, for he welcomed the idea and offered to seek a source time and locale for the food in question.
Just then, Helena's commlock beeped, and even at the slight tone, Maya stiffened a little. Tony was suddenly staring at her. He didn't seem to like sudden moves from mostly-unfamiliar aliens, so she explained. "It startled me... a little."
"Of course," he said, but the smile was gone from his face. Maya was jumpy. Tony was jumpy when she was. As she had thought, this would not be so easy.
"Sandra Benes is here," Helena said. "You met her yesterday, in Command Center."
"I remember Sandra," Maya said, her tone probably coming out relaxed as she recalled a short Alphan female with dark -- and incredibly short -- hair who had smiled at Maya and not shown any noticeable sign of nervousness about greeting her.
"Good," Helena said as she turned the commlock to the door and let her in.
Sandra walked in. "Good afternoon, Maya," she said with a quiet voice that even with its accent -- an Alphan accent which curiously seemed very different from Helena's -- was very clear-spoken.
She returned the greeting. Sandra was concerned she had interrupted her meal, but Maya indicated to proceed, since she could eat small quantities at intervals while talking.
"I am here to help with a schedule. The conversion is that our day has exactly 24 hours, while yours is 33.464 hours."
"Sandra, that is very kind to offer, but I can try adapting to your schedule."
"Maya," Helena started saying, "that is a very different schedule. If your day were 20-25 of our hours, that would be one thing, but 33 hours?"
"I can try."
"Have you ever had to get up a few hours -- or whatever equivalent you had -- early?"
"Sure, lots of times...." Her response slowed at the end.
"Was it easy?"
"Ah... no, not really."
"This would be over 9 hours early each day. Can you really imagine getting up 9 of our hours earlier, each and every day? Do you really think you'll be efficient and useful that way?"
Actually, put that way -- Maya wondered why she had missed that easy point -- it sounded rather horrible. She had a lot in front of her to adjust to, and not having to change her sleep cycle sounded like one less worry. She tempered her response, merely shaking her head in response to Helena's question, then turned to Sandra and apologized.
"For what?" the woman asked with confusion.
"You were doing something needed and I interrupted with an unintended falsity."
Sandra looked puzzled, and then said, "No need to apologize." Sandra paused, then resumed her prior line of logic. "I checked a few scenarios, and the best actually seems a five-seven combination."
"Oh, I see! That leaves only 40.8-minute differential."
"You noticed the 5/7 ratio already?"
"No," Maya said, puzzled. "You just mentioned it."
Sandra looked at Helena, and said, "She is very fast."
"Yeah," Tony said, "Helena and I already noticed."
Maya finally realized what their odd reactions meant. They were not as fast in mental calculation. She blushed and dipped her head a little, realizing that maybe--
"Maya," Sandra said. "That is a fine talent, not something to be ashamed of."
"Okay," Maya said quietly.
"That way, we are all still on a one-week schedule, even though your days don't match. It is Wednesday...." Sandra said, trailing off at the end.
"Whens day? I do not understand." Why was Sandra asking which day of their week it was?
"The seven days of our week have names," Tony said. "Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday."
"Are sun, mon, two, whens, thurs, fri, and satur a radix 7 system's numbers?"
"Uh... no." Tony responded. "They're based on Latin, I think, from the Italian peninsula a couple millennia ago. Named after the Sun, Moon, and... er, wait."
"I think they were Germanic or Nordic," Helena said.
"Yeah, maybe you're right -- unless they got it from the Romans."
"I think you are both right," Sandra said. "Latin origin, German borrowing, and the Norse substituted some, like Thursday -- Thor's Day."
"Thor was probably just Jupiter," Tony said. "Hammer instead of lightning bolts."
Maya had completely ceased to understand their conversation, which for some reason had now flowed to inexplicably talking about construction tools replacing atmospheric phenomena. So she waited for them to reset the conversation. In the meantime, she memorized the seven whole words, suddenly not sure if they were meant to be fused words or contractions, but deciding they had to be fusions, since the three Alphans did not seem to have any clear concept of what the early fragment of each was, and were arguing over them. Alphan seemed to be a very complex language embedded with many ancient words. Of course, Modern Psychon had plenty of words compacted from ancient phrases. "Psyoliyask" was a fusion of known ancient words, but "Psychon" seemed to be a fusion of words lost to even what was known of Ancient Psychon language.
"Go ahead, Sandra," Tony finally said.
"I need to know how you normally divided your day between being awake and asleep, on average."
"Ah," she said, brightening as the conversation became clear again. "A 4/6/1/5 ratio."
"Four parts to the day? 16 hours in a day total?"
Maya nodded, then translated the numbers into Alphan time. "Midnight -- middle'night I mean -- occurred in the middle of 8.3660 hours of long'sleep. Then 12.5490 hours of being awake, called first'part. Then 2.0915 hours of brief'sleep. Then 10.4575 hours of being awake again, called second'part."
Sandra had written a couple of things down as Maya spoke, then looked it over, and looked up. "Can we round a little? 8.5 hours of sleep, 12.5 hours awake, 2.0 hours of a nap, 10.5 awake?"
"That would be fine," Maya said. "Except it leaves 0.5 hours unaccounted for in the... week cycle."
"That is okay. I will account for that, maybe call it leap time or something. You can use it for sleep or whatever you feel like that week. When do you eat?" Sandra quickly asked.
"A larger meal not long after I wake up, something half its size shortly before mid'sleep -- nap -- something larger a third into second'part, and then something very light before long'sleep -- sleep."
"Sounds like breakfast, lunch, supper, and a snack to me," Tony said.
"So you have four meals too?"
"The first three are meals," Helena said. "We occasionally snack, but at more random times, and only if needed. Not everyone does, either."
"Ah," Maya said, in this case accepting but not really understanding the apparent randomness of a snack. If that was the word, though, she'd use it, even if her meaning was more fixed in nature.
"I will draw up a sleep/wake schedule and print several copies. I am also arranging your quarters."
"Quarters of what?"
Sandra smiled in an amused yet kind way. "It is just called living quarters. A room of your own."
Maya nodded. Another same sound different meaning word, she thought in growing surprise. She had heard a few already. Psychon did not even have a word of its own to describe such, but she knew of their existence from other language arrays. Yet the Khorask didn't seem to understand them much either, because the associative array thread for Alphan had almost none listed, and she had encountered a few already, including tape. "Thank you," she said as Sandra left.
Moments later, another of Helena's commlock beeps startled Maya a little, and again had Tony looking at her with what she could only assume was suspicion. If she was going to be jittery about every little sensory surprise for awhile, it seemed he was going to remain jumpy around her for awhile, and repeating the explanation would be redundant.
"Okay, it's Joan."
She recognized the name as an apparent alternate name'form of Janina.
Janina came in with an enthusiastic, "Hello, Maya," and greeted the others as well. Whereas Sandra was quiet'friendly, Janina was loud'friendly. Either mode was as perfectly welcome to Maya as the other. The Alphan word effusive suddenly came to mind as a more compact replacement word in Alphan for loud'friendly.
Janina was carrying a moderate-sized box, and soon handed it to Maya, saying, "These are for you. Some Alphan clothing, including a uniform, just your size -- I hope. I am not an expert tailor, but a nuclear physicist."
"I received that information from Helena yesterday... about being a physicist."
"Then I imagine you are wondering why a nuclear physicist would be a clothes tailor."
"No," Maya answered. "Should I be?"
Janina laughed, said, "No, maybe I shouldn't be either," and turned away to look at Helena, who shrugged, while Tony chuckled.
Maya looked at them in turn, but did not reply. She didn't have the slightest idea what that subconversation had been about. They were apparently ascribing some additional meaning Maya was not in the knowledge'space for. Yet it did not seem to require her further attention either. Alphans sometimes said inexplicable things, but she knew she was likely to do the same to them, too. That was to be expected, she knew; so she decided to filter for those she probably had more immediate reason to understand, as opposed to those she did not have to pursue if it would slow the conversation down or damage the moment. So she let their mysterious moment of amusement pass, then turned to Janina and thanked her.
"Well, try it on!" Janina said with a smile that Maya took from context and tone as encouraging.
Maya nodded, then headed for the bath'room, and took all the clothing out of the box, which included a pair of the same sort of snow'boots-like but attractive things the other women were wearing.
In a few minutes, she went from looking at herself in an almost formless medical uniform to a very nicely-fitting Alphan-standard uniform. Oddly, as alien as both were, the latter was much more pleasing than the first uniform. Both had strange fabrics, but neither was uncomfortable. At least this fit her very well, making her more presentable to the general public. Presentable, she thought, looking at her own face, normal as it was to her and strange to them, but then quickly to her hair.
She was still troubled that the Alphan females seemed to do little with her hair -- that she had seen so far anyway. It would be really hard to gain some sense of normality with just the better fit if she could not arrange her hair as well. She supposed she could do an arrangement without any hidden or visible pins or clips, but that would take longer. Or maybe she should put some of her hair over her eyebrows. No, I am who I am, and trying futilely to hide it serves no purpose. Besides, that would feel even less normal.
She felt suddenly silly, worrying about her hair when her whole universe had just shifted so radically, yet she also felt like she was grasping for a few fragments of the familiar, while also just trying to accept as much as she could, as fast as she could. The Alphans were trying to let her keep some, like with the interlocking schedule, the meals. Maybe....
Suddenly, though, she realized she was delaying Janina, and the others, and decided she could settle the question later. She reached for the medical blues, as Janina had called them, to fold them and put them and the slippers in the box, then picked up the box and the hair'brush.
Tony waited impatiently. Maya already seemed to be like any other woman regarding taking forever in the bathroom.
Then the door slid open, and out stepped Alpha Maya, and Tony found her, once again, very striking. Seen in human-style clothing, she again seemed even more human -- from the neck down. Yet even the strange yet compellingly attractive face.... He didn't know what to think. Tall, slim, yet still quite shapely. She looked surprisingly good in a uniform. So why did he wish she were in her own dress instead? Maybe it was too strange to see her as a potential Alphan, instead of the alien she was. Yes, that just had to be it.... What a weird day this is, an alien in Alphan clothing. But what else was there to do?
"Oh, Maya, you look great," Joan said.
"Absolutely," Helena affirmed.
Then both women looked at Tony, followed by Maya's eyes too. Oh, damn. "Not bad," he said after a too-long pause.
"Not bad?" Helena said in mock outrage -- or maybe not so mock.
"Okay, very nice," he said, mixing in a little of his initial reaction, as much as it was also setting him a bit on edge that his feelings were conflicting about her looking nice in Alphan style yet also reminding him that she was still an alien -- and this was the first time one was dressing this way.
Where is Tony the charmer? Helena thought with annoyance. She had caught a bit of his initial surprised reaction to Maya in a uniform, and thought he might actually like the way she looked, but he suddenly seemed to be all distant. Guarded, Helena thought. Then she seemed to recall he was involved with someone. Helena was rather disconnected from that chain of information, and a name, if she had even heard one, did not come to mind immediately. Still, it didn't really explain Tony's reactions to Maya, or why he couldn't still say something nicer in this context anyway. Meanwhile, Maya just seemed to accept any compliment, however tepid, smiling very slightly yet seemingly genuinely even at the "not bad." If she took the phrase literally, it probably still struck her as a good thing, Helena imagined.
"Thank you, everyone," Maya said, then walked towards Helena, holding out the box and saying, "Here is the medical blues uniform."
Helena almost laughed at Maya's curious phrasing, wondering where she had picked it up. "Actually," she started as she took the box, "we also wear them as clothing to bed. Pajamas. We'll get them washed and make sure it gets to you later, maybe with some more clothes too."
"Oh, you know what, that reminds me," Joan started. "I need to run for a second. Give me that box, please, Doctor. I'll be right back."
Seconds later, it was not Joan but Sandra who returned. Sandra looked a bit surprised for a moment at Maya's "transformation," then said, "You look very nice, Maya." At least a decent compliment didn't have to be pried out of Sandra. Nor did the slight smiles Maya was making more frequently already. The Psychon struck Helena as one who could supply a beaming smile at just about anything, something still rare on Alpha, once she was out of her shock and a little more sure of herself. She was already smiling a tiny bit at just about anything nice.
Sandra walked up to Maya and giving her a card, before handing out two to Helena and Tony in turn, saying to them, "Maybe David could have pulled together a better format, but Computer did not like me trying to put together a schedule that was not shifts in a 24-hour time frame."
It was a sleep/wake schedule:
SCHED. FOR: Maya S 00:00 - 04:00 sleep < 1 S 04:00 - 16:30 FIRST PART 1 S 16:30 - 18:30 nap 1 S-M 18:30 - 05:00 SECOND PART 1 M 05:00 - 13:30 sleep 1-2 M-T 13:30 - 02:00 FIRST PART 2 T 02:00 - 04:00 nap 2 T 04:00 - 14:30 SECOND PART 2 T 14:30 - 23:00 sleep 2-3 T-W 23:00 - 11:30 FIRST PART 3 W 11:30 - 13:30 nap 3 W 13:30 - 24:00 SECOND PART 3 R 00:00 - 08:30 sleep 3-4 R 08:30 - 21:00 FIRST PART 4 R 21:00 - 23:00 nap 4 R-F 23:00 - 09:30 SECOND PART 4 F 09:30 - 18:00 sleep 4-5 F-A 18:00 - 06:30 FIRST PART 5 A 06:30 - 08:30 nap 5 A 08:30 - 19:00 SECOND PART 5 A 19:00 - 19:30 leap 30 min 5 A 19:30 - 24:00 sleep > 5 based on 5/7 ratio, 33.464/24 Initial proposal, basics. Proposed 345 DAB 15:00, by Data Analyst Sandra Benes, Chief of Service Section. |
It was Maya's daily life, on a card. Or at least the shell of a life.
"I'm sure there will be some variation, either of your own accord or for other reason, but this seemed like a good approximation," Sandra added.
"Do 'R' and 'A' equate to Thursday and Saturday?" Maya asked.
"Yes," Sandra said. "Do you understand hours and minutes?"
"This appears to be a radix 24 hour clock, and I know the minutes are radix 60 from observing the numerical linear clock."
Most of Maya's phrasing so far had been fairly clear, but Tony was trying to smother a smile at the rigorously mathematical description and attempts at unambiguous references to which type of clock.
"Okay, good," Sandra said.
They all finished looking it over, and agreed with it. Now it would be a matter of filling First Part and Second Part with activity: training, duty, meals, time for exercise and relaxation. Helena was not sure what Maya was used to, but that would be another discussion. It was a strange sort of schedule to look at, but it was better than Maya running herself into the ground trying to adapt from 33 hours to 24, and hopefully everyone would adapt, including Maya to everyone else's schedule too. The problem would be on settling a new world. If the planet had a less than 22- or 23-hour rotation rate, or more than maybe a 28-hour rate, everyone could have problems. While stuck without a true day/night schedule, though, it would do no harm, beyond a little confusion, to grant Maya her own unique schedule. Helena had not discussed it with John, but this was a simple medical decision.
Sandra tried to take her leave, saying, "Tony, contact me when she is ready to meet neighbors."
"Actually," Helena said, "you could--"
Helena's commlock beeped. This time, Maya did not startle at all, perhaps having been expecting Joan to return. Indeed, it was Joan, who had returned with a tiny box. She handed it to Maya, saying, "I didn't know how often you would need or want these."
Maya opened the box, and she promptly smiled a little, the expression growing a bit wider as she put her fingers in the box and moved what sounded like a lot of little things inside. Tony looked at Maya and the box.
"Oh, Janina, how wonderful and thoughtful!" Maya said.
"What is it?" Tony demanded, not gruffly, but firmly.
"Hairpins, clips, ties, bands, things like that," Joan explained. "I had a few extras in storage, and asked a few women if they could spare some more. I just forgot to bring them with the clothes."
Maya looked a little surprised. "Oh, they didn't have to--"
"They wanted to. These are yours now."
The Psychon returned to her chair, and looked up to say, "That is extremely generous. Please thank them for me."
Helena found Maya's thinking such a small -- though promising -- gesture as extremely generous was a little sad, but it was a good sign from presumably at least a few Alphan women, and it was at least cheering Maya up.
Maya set the box on her lap, brought out various pins, clips, small bands, and such, one of each, looking them over and analyzing each with her fingers, methodically yet efficiently. Maya suddenly struck Helena as a rather visual and tactile person. Maya was still holding her hairbrush, and she quickly ran it through her long, auburn hair a few times, before setting it down next to the box on her lap. She grabbed a band in one hand, gathered her hair in both hands, tied it off at one point, and began manipulating the rest until the band was hidden, her nimble fingers manipulating the hair into a bun and arrangement, and tying it off against itself and with an occasional small clip, each of which she deftly hid. In almost no time, she had her hair arranged about her head, in something very different than the one she had before.
The three Alphan women and one man looked at her in surprise.
"You do that every day?" Joan asked.
"Yes, usually twice a day." After a pause and quick look at the others, she added: "It is typical for Psychon females to arrange their hair, as soon as it starts growing long enough."
"All females?"
"Well, a few choose not to do so as often or much at all once they reach adulthood, or at a later point, but most women prefer their hair up in public. Thank you for allowing me to do so."
"Uh, you're welcome... for the... supplies," Joan said with uncharacteristic awkwardness, "but I don't think there was any 'allowed' to...."
"What Joan -- Janina -- is saying," Helena started, "is that you certainly didn't need our permission to put your hair up."
"Oh, of course. I didn't mean--"
"It looks nice," Tony interrupted.
The words were tepid, despite his noticeably staring at Maya since the moment she had sat down, but his timing was much better this time, breaking the awkward moment.
"Thank you," the Psychon said, with a cautious smile.
Helena suspected Maya was continuing to pick up on Tony's caution, and it was reflecting in her responses to him. Helena wasn't sure if that was helping or hurting, but at least Tony was being patient and apparently given her a decent chance. Maya shouldn't have to prove herself, but to a degree, she still would. Human nature, and as much as Helena hated to admit it, understandable, given their year of being attacked or brushed off by most aliens, and again attacked by Maya's own father, to the deaths of four more. Some Alphans might think in terms like they had traded four of their own for an alien madman's daughter -- and think that hardly balanced out. That had never been the right way to think about human life back on Earth, and should still be the wrong way to think about sentient life in general -- but it was the challenge Maya was still going to face from some. It was also a challenge Alpha would have to face. Humankind had just gotten over tearing itself apart over racial, class, and religious differences, and may have finally turned a corner among themselves. Now Alphans would be put to a new test: tolerating, accepting, and befriending an alien on a permanent basis.
Helena's commlock beeped. This time Maya scarcely reacted, apparently getting used to the sound.
"Bill is here," Helena said, letting him in, the anteroom filling up some more, with Maya, Helena, Sandra, Janina, Tony, and now Bill as well. Bill had his camera and folded-up tripod with him. He noticed Maya immediately, and she stood up.
"Uh, no, you can sit down. I'm here to take your ID photo."
"Aidee?"
"Identification," Bill clarified. "Just the first two letters of the word," he added, apparently realizing she might not understand the nature of the abbreviation.
It could have been considered ironic to need a photo to identify Maya, but there were various uses besides the badge, including as an ID on the commlock, as a computer file for the base roster, in medical files, other hard-copy personnel files, and elsewhere.
"Perfect timing, Bill," Helena said.
"Sandra informed me earlier, and just sent a page."
Of course, Helena thought. Sandra was again being efficient.
"Page?" Maya asked, probably thinking of a page from a book or on a computer screen.
"A brief signal through the commlock," Helena explained, glad Maya's curiosity was active. Indeed, though masked by a degree of shock and reticence, Helena could already see plenty of signs of an intensely curious nature just under the surface, that even the shock had not dampened much. She didn't even seem to mind asking questions which might sound silly. She had to learn, and seemed willing to ask the questions she needed to understand what was going on around her. Maybe she wasn't asking everything which jumped into her mind, but her questions were focused, of immediate benefit.
Bill set up a tripod, arranged it in front of Maya, who watched the proceedings with interest. When it was ready, he said, "Smile a little." That resulted in virtually nothing. "Come on, just a little smile. You look great."
Helena recognized the words, tone, and context were of a married man doing his job and working with an adult female subject -- friendly yet perfectly professional, Helena noted. Bill's words did elicit a little response, of Maya smiling a bit, like she wondered if she was being humored, but still liked the words.
Bill still waited, for the smile to fade slightly to more of a neutral expression that wasn't as "down" as before. The flash went off, and Maya practically jumped out of her seat with a small gasp of surprise -- at which the security officer tensed again.
"Oh, sorry," Bill said. "I should have warned you about the flash. Guess you've never seen flash photography?"
Maya was rubbing her eyes a little, her expression distant, until she shook her head slightly and replied, "Usually not necessary except in very dark conditions where normal light spectrum was still desired, instead of using... infrared?"
"Infrared," Bill confirmed. "Some of these cameras are just not as efficient at light collection, so we supplement with flash sometimes. Well, just to be sure, let's try one more."
This time, Bill warned her, and her expression looked almost professionally neutral. She didn't jump, either.
"Right, that should do nicely. Off to get some prints."
Just then, Helena realized she had almost missed something. She decided to excuse herself and get it on her own. Wrist monitors were not worn as much as they used to be. Components had to be taken from some of them for various reasons, and they were wearing out faster than expected. Despite her misgivings, she had little choice but to drastically scale back their usage to people holding certain jobs, patients with conditions needing monitoring away from Medical Center, or other special cases -- to try to make the remaining pool of the devices last as long as possible.
She retrieved one, tested its function, programmed its number, altered some alarm ranges and other factors -- these devices were more flexible than many medical devices, since these had direct interaction with Main Computer -- then brought it to MCU-4. "Maya, this is a medical monitor. It sends readouts of a few fundamentals through Main Computer. They are usually used to watch for problems, but for a limited time I have set it to gather some baseline information as well. I would like you to wear this on your wrist for at least a week, under the sleeve of your shirt or pajamas, except in the shower. They aren't as waterproof as they are supposed to be." Helena showed her how to activate and de-activate it. "Also, you are medically cleared to try eating various foods. Just don't overdo it, and report any problems."
As Maya put the monitor on her wrist, Helena then released her patient, stating a return visit would be arranged for tomorrow. There would have to be follow-up readouts taken, more questions, and more scans.
Half an hour later, she was in John's quarters with a meal she had grabbed from a cafeteria, as he had done too. There was still a lot to do, so the supper was hurried and work related.
She updated him on the injured patients in Medical, indicating that Diane Bell was still critical but stable after surgery to relieve the pressure on her spinal cord. "I am still concerned damage may have been done by that point. If so, she may be temporarily or permanently confined to a wheelchair. She is still unconscious, and we won't be bringing her out of it until tomorrow probably. The rest of the damage elsewhere was minimal."
They talked a bit more about Bell, before moving to the other injured personnel. She described that the others were continuing to recover well, and that she expected to be able to release more in the evening or tomorrow morning.
"How's Maya doing?" he then asked.
"She slept a long time, relatively soundly if a little restlessly in her sleep, until a nightmare at the end. Once she was calm, though, she took everything pretty well. She seems more numb than anything, but is showing a healthy curiosity, and some moments where she lightened up." Helena described how Maya was overwhelmed with the small but promising generosity regarding the supplies for arranging her hair.
John nodded, and both were quiet for a time as they finished their food.
"Oh, John, you remember Maya's pendant?"
"She was opening doors and lowering force fields with it. Hmph...."
"Exactly. She handed it to me like it was an heirloom, and it turned out it was, from her mother and grandmother before. I didn't want to say anything about it being more than decorative in front of Tony. I was a little concerned he would confiscate it on the spot to have it disassembled or something, or make a scene about it. She has precious little left of her own, and I think it should stay hers."
"That... was probably a wise choice on your part. We've got heaps of fragments of alien technology from all those wrecked ships, but between the state of damage, how advanced that stuff is, and with limited time given various crises, that has not gotten far or led to much yet. What is in Maya's pendant is probably minimal compared to what they had, and perhaps could be damaged if we tried picking it apart. In any case, I see no reason to antagonize her over that nothing when maybe she can willingly help us interpret all the rest. If she later thinks of some use to which she can put whatever is in her pendant, that can be a subject for another time, and her choice."
"I was hoping you would say that."
W-345 DAB 1600-2200: Quarters, Commlocks, Community?
Tony left Med Care Unit 4 with Maya on his left side, and Sandra leading them towards the first person she picked for an introduction. They had no trouble finding her.
Tony let Sandra carry out the introduction, while he held back, watching Sally but more from the side, while also taking in Maya's reaction. He was as casual as he could be about it, even though it was not casual at all.
"Sally, this is Maya. Maya, this is Sally Martin." It went well, despite the slight bit of caution from Sally and the resulting slight bit of typical caution from Maya -- who seemed to read nervousness almost too well compared to some other human reactions.
"We will be settling Maya in the open room next to you." The subtext was clear: Maya was going here, and the officers expected her new neighbors to be accommodating, even if not necessarily 100% happy about it. Tony doubted there would be complete happiness about it, but Tony was looking for more extreme responses.
"Oh, that would be nice," Sally said in a not-entirely-convinced voice. It was a polite but tepid -- yet far from hostile -- response to the idea. Tony could accept that. Having an alien living on the base was going to be new enough, but he wasn't going to be one living close to Maya. Sally was; and her response was understandible and of no concern to Tony.
There were similar responses from the next two, both men, one somewhat cautious yet curious, yet more comfortable looking at Sandra, while the second seemed more than just comfortable looking at Maya. Tony could hardly blame the man. Despite her alien appearance, she was rather unexpectedly attractive. Maya seemed to take no particular notice of that, which was just as well, Tony thought, in avoiding more awkwardness.
More people netted more mixed reactions, one man seeming to more or less sigh in resignation, three others more welcoming, two of them even thanking Maya. Finally, a couple hours after this process had started, they found the last in a cafeteria. He was harder to read, studiously neutral yet seemingly not threatening; and Tony decided to keep an eye out, even though it seemed more like a muted version of Tony's own attitude.
When it was all done, Sandra moved to Tony's side, and whispered, "Okay for the room, I think."
He looked at her, and nodded. She stepped aside to call in the number, while he stepped over to Maya and said, "It is perfect. This is at the end of the usual time for supper, and I think it would be for you too," Tony said, getting the schedule card out of his pocket.
"Yes, I am hungry again," was Maya's distracted answer as Tony noticed her eyes flitting about, clearly noticing the number of people around, even though the ranks were thin as most finished eating. Tony put the card back away. She was attracting a lot of looks and stares, some seeming fine, some mildly annoyed, one mildly hostile but guarding himself, several men openly curious. When Tony would look at any of them, they'd look away. A quick glance at Maya showed she seemed to be taking all the stares as bad news. She didn't like being stared at, or just couldn't interpret the various looks well and just saw stares. Fortunately, the crowd seemed to be dispersing more quickly. No one approached. The commander's brief but well-chosen words about introductions over time had apparently worked, allowing a better timetable.
He chose a table that had been cleared of clutter, at the edge, so he could keep an eye on the room, and sat down with Maya.
"I will bring you some food," Sandra said, eliciting another "thank you" from Maya. Just then, Sandra's commlock beeped. He couldn't hear the name spoken, but did hear Sandra's response: "The commlock? Good, please bring it to Cafeteria 2." Sandra turned towards the food line, then back to Maya as she put the commlock back on her belt. "Any special request?" she asked Maya.
"I... no. I just had my first meal here." Sandra looked a little surprised, apparently not realizing the meal Sandra had seen Maya finishing was her first on Alpha. Sandra's surprise was an expression Maya seemed to recognize just fine, for she said, "I was not ready to eat until a few hours ago. Wait. Do you have any drink high in simple sugars?"
Sandra's brow furrowed, but Tony jumped in. "Huh, maybe she should try a soft drink."
Sandra gave Tony a dubious look, then nodded, saying, "Alright," then, "Tony, what do you want?"
"Whatever is fine. I don't need a lot now, either."
Sandra returned a few minutes later with a meal for Maya, then went back for more. Maya, though seeming ready to eat, held back, apparently out of a sense of politeness that surprised him. In the meantime, he described Sandra's choices of food, then listed Maya's room number, and briefly described the location. He didn't describe the room further, since Maya would see it soon enough.
Sandra returned with another tray and split the dishes between her and Tony. Tony looked at her plate, then at her. Was Sandra eating less, or was she always a light eater?
She noticed his look. "Probably won't be much time," she said. "I'll have a snack later."
Tony nodded. One of Sandra's personnel came in with a commlock, looked around, then headed right for their table. She delivered the commlock and an ID badge to Sandra, then left. Sandra handed the commlock to Maya. "There you go, Maya, your very own ID badge and commlock."
Maya looked at the ID first. She had a simply calm appearance, and now she understood why Bill had prompted her to smile a little and then had waited. She searched for a word in Alphan.... Professional? It seemed to apply to her appearance, and to Bill's actions.
Maya then looked at the alien device, turning it about in her hands, curious. She saw buttons, a tiny monitor, an antenna, a lens presumably for a camera, and another small picture of her face with her name in very small letters below it. Below her name was a number. "What does 419 mean?"
"That is the fixed sequence number -- FSN -- of that unit," Sandra started explaining. "We usually just call it the commlock number or call number. They each have a unique one, and you can call up someone by number. You can also call up a specific room via another sequence, use it to open doors, even control lights in your own room. It is also voice keyed, that Computer can interpret short words, often by a single name, first, last, or room."
"We'll have to voice key Computer for her," Tony said to Sandra. "Think we'll have to do more varied voice training for Computer for her? She's got a rather... unique accent."
"Probably," Sandra said. "In the meantime, I will give you a current list of personnel and numbers. Mine is 367. Tony's is 244. There is a list on the Alpha Information System too; but I will show you that later or tomorrow."
To her surprise, Maya was barely noticing what she was eating as they explained the device further -- and she wasn't eating all that quickly, either. Sandra called Maya's commlock, and had Maya call Sandra's, while Tony only half watched this and half the environment around them. Maya again found herself grateful that despite his obvious reservations about her, that he was treating her kindly and with regard to her safety. She was thirsty now but distracted, and absently grabbed the soft drink, took a large drink of it, and nearly gasped.
"Maya?" Sandra asked as Maya choked some of it down, then gradually swallowed the rest, then coughed a bit. She looked in the cup, even as she recovered, curious and puzzled. It was a cool, light-colored liquid, bubbling mysteriously.
"It is very tasteful, but I did not expect this cold boiling of gaseous content. What is it doing?"
"Cold boiling?" Tony asked. "You mean the carbonation?"
After a last cough, she said, "You add carbon to your drinks?" Carbon was one of the few chemical elements she had linguistic information about for Alphan; but adding just carbon did not make sense. Maybe he means--
"Carbon dioxide gas. Harmless in this use."
She sipped it this time. "Creative. It is actually pleasant."
"A lot of us like it, and it's ridiculously easy to make, even if we don't have as many flavours as in the past."
Maya didn't know what the last part of the statement meant, but let it pass, though she would remember it, because it seemed to be similar to some parts of what Tony had said about lasagna and Janina about artificial hair color enhancer.
She resumed eating, while they -- mostly Sandra -- explained more. Then Sandra got a call. She took it, then told them, "I will check the status of your room. Take your time. I will call when all is ready."
Sandra headed to one of the residential blocks, after a stop to retrieve Maya's jewelry from temporary storage. Earlier, Sandra had rustled up an actual jewelry box donated for general use when its owner had died. Not that Alphans wore much jewelry, or that often, except for infrequent special occasions or small parties. Still, Maya had jewelry too, so it was only fair she had a box for it.
On reaching Maya's newly-prepared quarters, she found that sure enough, they had been quick. Maya had no personal effects except what was in Sandra's hands and what Joan Conway was taking care of for the moment, so it had been just moving in some additional furniture, cleaning up what small amount of dust gathered despite Alpha's efficient air filtration system, and some other details.
Sandra set the small box of jewelry on the low cabinet of drawers on the far side of the room. Then she walked back to the desk, and immediately checked the desk monitor. These lower-deck single non-officer quarters did not have the dual wall monitors sometimes used for impromptu conference calling; here, there was just one wall monitor and the usual desk monitor. Here, both had the multi-A standby pattern, with Maya's name embedded in the center lines. At the desk, she pressed the 'λ' button for logon, and was presented with a prompt. All of this confirmed Maya was set up, Computer-wise.
She looked around briefly, and it was ready; yet... it was not. Except for the fact there were lounge chairs present, there was not a single touch of warmth to the room at all. Sandra shook her head. Wasn't it on the checklist to find a little artwork somewhere? She knew there had to be some in storage, and called it in.
"A couple of pictures?" was the surprised response over the commline.
"Of course. Something geometrical maybe, a pattern of some sort but pretty. And..." -- she thought for a moment, not sure how the Psychon would react, but deciding it might be nice anyway -- "a nature scene, something with trees or hills." She looked at the empty table by the chairs. "And a piece of sculpture. Something purely abstract, I think." It would not fill the room, but Sandra didn't want to clutter up the relatively small room with her choices either. She would take Maya to storage to make her own selection later, exchanging and/or adding to these. Still, the room had to start with something. What sort of welcome, for someone who had essentially nothing of her own, would it have been to enter an arranged residential room that had less than a hotel guest room? Even if Maya was simply grateful to just have a room, that did not make it right.
Since they had overlooked that, she checked the small vertical food station for its usual compliment of dishes, utensils, and such, and found it complete. There was space for some food; but as usual, since the new resident's preferences were as yet unknown, those small shelves were empty. The desk drawers held paper, notebooks, basic writing instruments, computer key overlays, and other typical supplies. She took the overlays out and laid them on the desk, to show later.
Still, something seemed missing.... Abruptly, she knew what it was, and left, heading to her own quarters. She had several plants, one from her periodic allotment from Botany -- a little morale-booster procedure suggested a few months after Breakaway -- plus a few more that had been given to her after Paul's death, some from others' own allotment, including one from a person Sandra did not know that well. The last was a curious sign of community Sandra had not expected. She chose the one from her own allotment, deciding to give her the decorative glass vase too. Maya would get her own allotment too, but Sandra wanted to start this way.
She was interrupted by a commlock call that took nearly ten minutes and some brief work on her own terminal to resolve.
Then, turning back to the plant, she wrote a note on a small blank card. She remembered the Flowering Plant Rule, but decided that was a topic for a short discussion or an electronic post later on. She was just about to leave when she got a call from Joan Conway, who was wondering where to bring some supplies for Maya. Sandra filled her in, and found Joan waiting for her when she got to Maya's quarters. She had a cart with a slacks-style uniform on hangers, laying over boxes that were presumably some other clothes -- and a plant, also in another decorative glass vase. The two women laughed for a moment, one of the few laughs Sandra had shared the last few weeks, and they went inside.
"Sorry I can't stay," Joan said as Sandra set her plant down on the small nightstand next to the bed, and Joan set hers on the desk, given that there was now a small sculpture on the end table by the lounge chairs. "I should have another skirt-style uniform for her sometime tomorrow," she said as she put the box on the bed, and hung the uniform slacks and top in the closet.
"Thank you," Sandra then said. "Joan, I noticed you were referred to as Janina a few times in Medical Center, especially by Maya -- but Helena too. I know that is your birth name, but I have never heard you referred to as anything but Joan. Would you prefer others call you Janina now?"
"Please, no decree to others about it, but if you would want to call me that, it would be nice but not necessary. I went by Janina, Joan, and Janka equally until I mostly adapted Joan while in England and Alpha; but after Breakaway... well, I hadn't heard anyone say my given name since."
"So you introduced yourself to Maya that way."
"Yes. Well, both Janina and Joan; but she latched onto Janina."
"I can call you Janina too." After a pause, Sandra added, "It is ironic, because some people have started calling me Sahn recently. I have never really had a public nickname on Alpha, and it is different to me, but I sort of like it, or at least the thought behind it. Yet I can understand what you are saying too, that your nickname..." Sandra wasn't sure how to put it.
"Is something I let completely take over?" Janina said wryly.
Sandra, for lack of any other response, simply nodded a little.
"It wasn't completely intentional, but that is what happened, I'm afraid."
They chatted a bit more, briefly, Janina indicated Maya could keep the vase once the annual plant ran its course; Sandra indicating she had intended the same with hers. Janina left then.
Sandra looked around again. Besides the sculpture, there was a large picture on one wall, of a geometrical pattern. On the back wall, over the low chest of drawers, there was now a picture of a countryside scene, with rolling hills, grasses, some stands of trees, a river in the valley in a distance, a few tiny deer or similar by the river, and hints of a few birds in foreground trees. Maybe that would cause the Psychon a little pain. Sandra had no idea how long the alien planet had been in ruins.
Probably every Alphan longed for blue sky and nature -- sometimes strongly. Sandra had a nature picture too. It was soothing to look at, yet sometimes gave her twinges of loss and longing. So far, it was in good balance, and if nothing else, a constant reminder of their biggest hope and goal: to find a planet to settle on. Why should Maya be any different? It was an assumption, but one that Sandra decided to proceed under. If there was a problem, Sandra could help her find something else.
As a final step of preparing the room for its new resident, and part of standard procedure, Sandra logged herself into Maya's station, with her own ID, pressed a few of the shortcut keys that, though reduced in number for someone's quarters, were still present and brought up what Sandra needed, and she soon had everyone locked out of Maya's room. Sandra was the only Service Section person with authorization to activate this security setting, and once activated, it could not be deactivated while the person remained resident in the room.
Now, only the officers could gain access, via a special override code, in case of an emergency. These were safety overrides, but as a layer of safety against abuse, any such access would immediately trigger an alert on all the same trusted people's commlocks. Maya was now the only one who could open the room's door without triggering some sort of alert by Main Computer. If Sandra stepped out and tried getting back in, she'd have to use an override and would trigger just such a warning now.
It was like locking doors on Earth, but with even more features. Maya could later choose to keep the doors unlocked to certain individuals, as many as she wanted, and she would be the only one who could make such changes for her own quarters. Default for a new resident or guest was for that person's room to be locked to everyone, and Maya would now appear on the list in every other active residential room, with her locked out, unless someone decided to unlock it. Sandra decided she would. Someone had to be the first to trust Maya this way.
To some degree, it was all symbolic, since manners dictated an electronic version of a "knock" before entering anyway, except where there was trust. It was not unlike Earth, where people could decide whether to keep the doors locked or unlocked -- only with even more options.
This information, along with other commlock use, was private, normally only accessed in certain security and investigative matters, and even then such access was tracked. Where the bureaucratic tendencies of the ILC and the human need for some residential privacy and security had met, a surprisingly good and balanced system had been created. There wasn't necessarily quite as much privacy as on Earth, but what of it existed was guarded.
Yet the number of actual lock-outs compared to potential was tracked as the Living Quarters Locking Index, or LQLI. This stat, one of the very few "social health" measures Main Computer could possibly process, was listed on the Daily Statistical Summary Report, a very dense list of key variables regarding many things on the base from residents, power levels, levels of key stockpiles, protein production, patients in Medical care -- just about anything that could be counted easily and tracked as a stat. It was a compact report, filled with lots of acronyms, abbreviations, and shortened words, to fit on one sheet of standard-sized paper, or viewable on just a few pages on the computer.
Pre-Breakaway, the LQLI had hovered around 50% most of the time, higher when there was more turnover than usual, lower when there had not been much in awhile. Crime was exceedingly rare on Alpha. Between careful vetting of personnel, and the almost-closed nature of Alpha even pre-Breakaway, with never more than 333 people at the most, there were incidents, but infrequent and relatively minor. In the days before Breakaway, when violence-inducing illness spiked, the number had climbed to 65%, and even to 75% after Breakaway, remaining there for awhile, as if people were "cocooning" themselves, according to Dr. Mathias. It had only slowly drifted back down. Yet, starting a couple months ago, the lock-out stat began declining faster, and now stood at 44% -- almost a record low for Alpha. According to some, a few individuals were even leaving their doors unlocked to a simple non-commlock keypress on the outside of the door.
Some talked about it being a sign of growing community, reminding Sandra again of the flowering plant she had received from someone she didn't know that well. Sandra didn't know. She was still reeling from the loss of Paul, and had withdrawn a lot, not locking doors, but withdrawing emotionally.
She shook her head. Tony and Maya would be here soon.
Tony thought Maya was a curious creature -- in several ways. An alien. Someone who had just lost virtually everything. One who seemed shocky or distant at times, yet so attentive and curious at others. He could vividly remember her pretty blue eyes as they stared widely into the cup of soft drink, both puzzled and curious, as if wanting to discern the chemical formulae at one level, and just bemused and enjoying the newness of the experience at another level. Childlike and hyper-professional at the same moment. Even as they talked about other matters, it was hard at times to avoid noticing her eyes, and just as often, her eyebrows. That part of her face was contradictorily the least human and most human of her features.
He looked around the room again, vigilant, then at her tray of half-eaten food, trying to get his mind off her eyes. "Well, aren't you going to eat?" Tony asked.
"We were so busy talking..." she explained, only to be interrupted by a beep from her commlock, which was still sitting on the table. She was not startled, but did seem surprised, but Tony guessed it was Sandra, who indicated the room was ready. Though Maya still clearly wanted to finish her food, she said, "Yes, I... we will be there in..." she looked at Tony again. He held up a hand with four fingers out, abruptly curious whether she'd get this hint. "... approximately four minutes." Maya then disconnected. She had listened well to their instructions about the commlock.
"Don't worry about the food," Tony said. "Gather it onto one plate. You can take the plate to your quarters to eat later." He paused at the wording, but she didn't joke about eating the plate. Why did he wonder if she had a sense of humour somewhere? "You want a snack, right?"
"Positive. It is a regular meal to me."
They stood up, Maya setting the commlock on the tray until he reminded her about putting it on her belt. "Oh, I remember you and Janina stating that." She did that, and he led her over to the self-busing station, next to which a stack of clean covers for plates and trays. Alpha was nothing if not very conscious of cleanliness, and efficiency inherent in not being careless about such. Walking down the halls with an uncovered plate of food that could spill on the floor or against someone else if people bumped in the hallway, while not outright forbidden, was highly discouraged.
Her plate covered and in her hand now, they left the Cafeteria, headed for the nearest Travel Tube, and were soon in the block her quarters were located in. She asked a question about what she called the levelator, Tony correcting her to elevator, mentioning an equal number called it a lift -- then answering the question. It was otherwise a silent trip, until they reached a door with her name on it, and he offered to hold her plate. She handed it over, and he told her to try the commlock, both for her practice and an abrupt realization Sandra may have already activated standard resident protocols. Maya had no problem recalling the correct action, and the door opened.
Maya was not really expecting much. A tiny and simple room with a bed, a closet, a bath'room, small table and chair maybe, and nothing more. What greeted her, while not as large as her own in the shelter on Psychon, was twice as large as she expected. "Oh, how wonderful!" Maya exclaimed as she walked in. What she thought might be a bed was unusually curved, which she did not understand, but there was actually a pair of lounge chairs and a small between'table, which even had some curious sculpture on it. There was a desk with room to write or read and also including a computer monitor and key'board, a closet, a storage cabinet with drawers, and some vertical unit she did not understand.
"Very spacious!" she said.
Tony seemed a little amused. "Well, it is only a single lower-level quarters, smallest we've got."
"It is larger than I expected," she said absently as she walked up to a wall'picture she had just noticed, of an interesting geometrical pattern. Another thing she had not expected: artwork on the walls. She had seen some rather plain public rooms so far, so this was a surprise, much less that they would... were they lending her some?
"Larger?" Tony asked.
She realized she hadn't meant to mention anything implying her expectations, and was going to apologize for mentioning it, but then she saw another wall'picture, hanging above a cabinet. She walked over, and then just stared at it, transfixed. Rolling hills, grasses, stands of trees, distant animals, hints of birds in trees. She drew in her breath, and tears came to her eyes.
"We can exchange it if you prefer," Sandra said.
"No," Maya said with surprising firmness. "It is almost.... Did Tony tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Sandra asked.
"That I grew up in a hilly region? Triska Hills region of the Manos Province."
"No, he did not. Does this remind you of it?"
Maya nodded tightly. "Different, but similar also. So much of Manos was dying even when I was young, but its Triska region was one of those that stayed almost pristine the longest. Is this lent to me, or was it left here?"
"Maya, this is your room now. Everything here is for you."
She looked around some more. There were plants on both the desk and a tiny table next to the bed, another uniform hanging in the closest, a plain box sitting on the bed, and a more decorative one on the cabinet. The wall color was strange, and the bed odd, yet there was social warmth, such as what she had seen, and the extra chairs like they expected her to have visitors. It was all hers, and she was grateful. Her father had done horrible things to these Alphans, including killing four of them, and despite her own actions, she had not expected this much of a positive response.
Sandra indicated Janina had brought the second uniform and another was on the way, probably tomorrow. She explained the commlock charger, some items in the bath'room, the basics of the computer terminal, Maya's "temporary password" for logging into it, Tony adding some information while patiently standing or sitting -- though the plate he had been holding had disappeared from view at some point.
Maya must have been letting some fatigue show, for Sandra abruptly said, "You look like you could use some time to settle in for a little while before you go to bed. If you want, feel free to logon and explore the computer on your own. Just work your way through whatever options you feel like, and I can give you more explanation tomorrow. Here are some overlays. Many of the keys are multi-modal; but for now, just stay with the green overlay, and also avoid this keyswap button for now. If you get lost, just hit the omega button here and it will completely reset to the logon screen and original key sequence again. Does that all make sense?"
"Confirmed."
"I stowed the food for her snack," Tony said.
"Why don't you show her the food station."
"Is this room secured now?" Tony asked Sandra too.
"Yes, I activated new resident protocol."
"Okay," Tony said. "What that means, Maya, is that you are now the only one normally authorized to enter this room, and you have to decide whether to let others in. Unless it is someone like Sandra, myself, Helena, or Commander Koenig, you should probably just politely refuse."
"I also trust Alan, Bill, and Janina," Maya offered.
"Well... okay... that's good." He paused, then continued. "There are a few exceptions where access is allowed, in case of emergency, but even those are recorded, so that...." There were a few minutes of explanation, and they solicited questions from Maya, which she had a few she considered important enough to ask now. She realized this system actually seemed well-suited to her safety, yet offered her a chance to show trust. She quietly decided she'd leave her door unlocked to those she already trusted. That even included Tony: he might not trust her entirely, and she was still was a little concerned about that; but the way he kept looking out for her safety otherwise had convinced her he really did not want to harm her. Besides, they still had to "give an electronic knock" -- a curious phrase but which she understood from context.
They then showed her the narrow, very vertical thing. It was a food station, and had: a small food'cooler called a refrigeratorfreezer ("Or just fridge," Tony added as he opened it up to show the plate of food in the lower portion); a hot'plate; some empty storage shelves; as well as dishes, cups, utensils, and such; and a microwave whose principles, when she asked a few questions, sounded remarkably similar to one of Psychon's most ancient food-cooking technologies which had still been in use up to Psychon's end. The circuitry and emitters would likely be different, but with similar purposes... oh, if only I could compare the two by taking this one apart and analyzing it... she thought as she stared at the device.
She barely heard Tony describe that if she burned something, first a smoke alarm would go off, and if the problem continued, panels on the food station would close to cut off oxygen flow. They showed her a fire extinguisher too, in case of any trouble with fire. Safety protocol. She was listening carefully again.
Tony could see her clear enthusiasm over the food station, but whether it was over being able to prepare food in the privacy of her own quarters, or a desire to take apart the microwave the first chance she could to see how it worked, he couldn't tell. Not that she threatened to do the latter, but she was already showing healthy curiosity. Then it struck him that she could easily take the station as an excuse to eat alone most or all of the time. Even Tony knew that would probably not be wise. Sometimes, sure, everyone liked some privacy and making up a simple meal at least now and then, but not all the time.
His commlock beeped at that moment. Despite not doing so in the cafeteria, perhaps because there was more background noise then here, Maya startled a bit, though a little less than prior times. He realized having a jumpy alien on his hands was getting on his nerves a little, so this time, he smiled a bit, to calm her down. He was too distracted by the commlock to notice her smile a bit in response.
"Yes, John?"
"Where are you now?"
"Sandra and I are settling Maya in her quarters."
"Okay, meeting room when you're done, Tony."
He confirmed, wondering what sort of not instantly-urgency meeting would be held this late in the evening, but turning to Maya and asking if she had any more questions. She asked what she would do in the morning. He pulled the card out of his pocket, and saw her schedule indicated an 08:30 wake-up time, so he asked about 09:30 for breakfast, and she agreed. The conversation wound down soon after, and he and Sandra left Maya to further settle into her new residence.
W-345 DAB 2200-2400: What Now?
John, sitting in his chair in Command Center, looked at the card print-out of the schedule Sandra had arranged for Maya. At first, he wasn't sure he liked the lack of synchronization for one he hoped would become a key team member, but when he thought about the more than 33-hour rotation period of Psychon, he had to admit it made some sense.
It was late, but he still had a little more to do, and instructed Bill to set up a two-hour de-briefing for early tomorrow afternoon. "Myself, Tony, Helena, Alan, Sandra. You'll be called in at some point as well." Then he instructed him to arrange another two-hour meeting for the late afternoon. "Tony, Helena, Maya, and me."
John leaned back in his chair and looked at the Big Screen, which still showed Psychon's star. Psychon's debris had long since thinned and with increasing distance shrunk to unresolvable sizes as the Moon traversed the rest of the system, soon to go interstellar.
"No signs of activity?" he asked even as Bill set up the schedule.
"No, sir," Bill said; then, taking the hint in the question, put the screen in standby mode before resuming the prior orders.
Meanwhile, John thought again about his hopes for Maya, and Tony's mixed reaction to her, and how complicated Tony could make group discussion of that. John frowned, then leaned forward to punch up Tony's commlock number. Active Standby was the return from Main Computer. Tony had not yet retired for the night, so John called him up, found he and Sandra were just wrapping up settling Maya into her quarters, and called him to a meeting.
Ten minutes later, they were meeting, a "speak freely" session as usual, for the honest and blunt exchange of opinions so valuable ideas weren't lost.
John immediately launched into his intent to make Maya the Science Advisor if talking with her tomorrow further confirmed his strong impression that she was very technically adept.
Tony's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"
"It seems to me the best way to find out the depth of her scientific knowledge is to get her talking to various people, mainly department leaders at first."
"Well, I guess the title doesn't matter so much as various people having the chance to interrogate her about what she knows."
John frowned, feeling his temper starting to rise. "You're the second person who has used that term in regard to her. I meant talking to her -- with her."
"Isn't that splitting hairs, John? Besides, isn't that the point, now that we have an alien of our own, to find out all she knows?"
Hoping the young officer's words were merely poorly chosen, he responded, "Tony, you're right to a degree, regardless of her character. If she were of bad character, confined to a cell, maybe some simple interrogation would be in order. If she were merely of abrasive character but could still help, she'd get a room and we'd put up with her and treat her with respect if nothing else. Fact is, she is of good character, so the point is to give her a new home and see how we can work together to improve all of our chances."
"Well, I did not mean otherwise."
"Are you sure? Because I know you've had a mixed reaction to her, so when you say 'interrogate' regarding Maya...."
"Well, I don't mean it in that way."
"And I did not mean it to be that in any way. Think talk, two-way, not interrogate. I am not usually picky about terminology, but--"
Tony raised his hand, "Okay, you're right, poor choice of words." Then, more calmly: "What do you have in mind?"
"Four-hour discussion sessions, each department head discussing what they do, the department does, the technology--"
"With all due respect, and as much as I hate to say it: Moonbase Alpha is probably primitive junk to her."
"Maybe, but how many of us are really good at making fire without practice?"
"I didn't mean that primitive, but point taken. What then?"
"Well, I am hoping she would begin giving her opinions or thoughts based on what she knows, maybe brainstorm some with them, or on her own."
"Or both sides doing so, then and after the meeting?"
"Exactly," John said. "Get a two-way discussion started. Four hours will probably not be enough for anyone, and it will take time for both participants to think through what each side learns."
Tony guffawed. "Days? Years? Forever?"
"Maybe. Maybe all of that, varying by topic. I hope for a process, a dialog, cooperation, friendship -- or at least professionalism -- to be fostered."
"Hmmm. But John, to call her Science Advisor? You know how some people are going to react. I did not know Victor as well as many, but... well, maybe we should pick a different designation."
"Why? It succiently explains most of the intent, and is actually closer to Victor in the role than how we used the title for Lew. Besides, I knew Victor well, and I suspect he would have welcomed her as an additional science advisor immediately."
Tony looked dubious, apparently not so much about whether Victor would have blessed that so much as whether others would accept it, so John got more direct. "I understand what you are trying to say, but the title says what I want. Yes, Lew came in with some direct departmental oversight within Technical, whereas Victor, as much as he acted in an officer's role in Main Mission, had no direct formal oversight within Technical but was consulted -- and gave consultations -- on virtually everything scientific, or at least listened even if not an area of expertise for him. I want that same exchange with Maya. Besides all that, I would rather start facing any backlash against her, directly, when needed, than dance around it."
Tony paused, then said, "You may have a point. Fine, I will keep an eye out for these kind of reactions too."
"Good. Oh, and it may not hurt for you to attend some of these sessions too, with anyone you see giving a more hesitant welcome, or where you can gain some greater knowledge of some of these departments."
"Are you reminding me of my incomplete high-level cross-training?"
Tony's PhD hardly gave him complete coverage in Alpha's various departments, and both men knew it was a rhetorical question, so John merely nodded.
"Maybe I or a guard should just attend every such session," Tony mused.
"No, not every session. That would send out the wrong message to everyone, including Maya herself. Use your judgment about where there is an actual problem, or where your time is well-spent listening."
John was going to table scheduling discussion, since it was late, but Tony continued.
"Actually, I have an idea," Tony said. "I have no idea why this particular piece of equipment, but the way she looked at the microwave in her room, it seemed like she wanted to take it apart or something. Maybe she should talk to an electrical engineer first."
At least Tony was offering helpful advice, despite his qualms. "Excellent suggestion. You have a name in mind?"
"Uh.... Maybe van der Mir. I think he's actually taught before, his lab is always full of circuit boards and opened devices to show, and I'm guessing he'd probably be good natured about... her."
"Okay, we'll start there, but save the scheduling for now. When they actually meet, take him aside, explain it all, and have him scare up an electrical toolkit or something for her. Tell him he can give it to her whenever he feels comfortable she knows enough to use it properly and safely."
"To her directly? She'll probably do just that."
"Do what?"
"Take apart the microwave in her room."
"Encourage her. As long as she thinks she can put it back together, and not start a fire either, let her play around and get proficient. Or see if van der Mir has a damaged unit."
"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?"
"Maybe. We'll find out some more tomorrow."
Maya sat in her room, feeling relieved to have a little quiet privacy for the first time in days, but feeling more completely alone than ever. She looked around again, already missing the pleasing orange wavelengths she was used to seeing in dwellings. The architectural metaphor was just so alien....
Though fatigued, she was not tired enough to go to bed, so she stood up and walked about, not having any idea what to do next. She took notice of a few more things in her room.
The book'shelves had a couple books written in Alphan, on varying topics, each starting with some mostly blank pages and what looked like a superficial fusion of a a contraction, "copy'right" -- a note that it was copied correctly? So what were the four-digit numbers? Yet they were similar to publishing dates listed elsewhere, including 1987, 1994, 1997, and 1999. What year was it on Alpha?
On the low cabinet of drawers sat a decorative box. She opened it up, and gasped a little to see her own hair'pins on top and, when looking a level further below, her pendant. A jewelry'box. She picked up the pendant and held it for quite a few moments. One of the few things she had left of her former life. She set it back away and closed the box.
On the desk, there was a plant with a lovely open flower and several large buds. She had noticed it before, but now took a closer look. It was in a beautiful vase. She found it a pleasant surprise that she was being offered lovely plants in lovely vases here too. She felt the plant's leaves and sensed its molecular patterns, leaned down and smelled its flower's delicate, pleasant fragrance, then noticed a piece of paper attached to it. Written in some sort of cursive script, she was not even sure it was Alphan at all, but when she tried to imagine Alphan's printed letters being scripted out, some of it started matching. The best she could first decipher it was:
"Thannk njou, NNanja, *or njoun help. The plannt i* a tokenn o* appreciationn. *anninna Connwanj. P.S. Hope njou *till li*e the unni*ounnn*!"
Already, she liked the tone of the message. Fortunately, it was long enough that she could internally cross-reference the material, being more creative with her interpolation between printed and scripted letters, and externally cross-reference with the Alphan language's threads through the larger associative array Maya had learned the language in some years back. She realized the apparent "nj" combination had to be a "y", that some scripted letters had redundant upper curves, such that what she first thought was "nn" was "n" and "NN" was "M" actually. She was rewarded with a clearer message:
"Thank you, Maya, *or youn help. The plant i* a token o* appreciation. *anina Conway. P.S. Hope you *till like the uni*ounm*!"
It was not hard to fill in the gaps from there, and correct one more misinterpretation she had, perhaps due to some variations in the letters' stroke lengths as an individual wrote them. She then ended up with:
"Thank you, Maya, for your help. The plant is a token of appreciation. Janina Conway. P.S. Hope you still like the uniforms!"
She had been smiling already, more so when the message was clear, except for the brief abbreviated and printed sentence, "P.S." She had not expected this, though coming from Janina, it was not as surprising, for she had been so immediately welcoming.
She wandered over to the -- what is it called? Some strange contracted word... oh yes... -- night'stand where another small plant sat. It was still growing flower buds -- the promise of greater future beauty, but it was already pretty just as it was. To stay in practice, she 'looked' at it from a distance, sensing its patterns in this way. She sat on the bed, picked up the plant, stared at it and at the vase, then looked for a message. This one was shorter and in simple printing. "Thank you and Welcome!" it said, and it was signed, also in printed letters, Sandra Benes.
The linguistic challenge done and the appreciation of the actions lingering, she found herself back to having nothing to do, and with no real interest in just jumping into a random book. Something about browsing their computer system minutes after being left alone somehow seemed prying. Maybe in an hour.
She noticed the box on the bed again, and opened it up. On top was the small box holding the hair arranging supplies, which she took to put in the jewelry'box, smiling at the memory of the generosity of Janina and some other women. There were a few more items of clothing in the larger box, including a few copies of the medical uniform they had told her was also used as sleep'clothes -- pajamas? -- too. She deactivated and removed the medical monitor from her wrist and left it on the night'stand, and walked to the bathroom.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she considered that her reflection was the only previously-familiar thing she had seen around her in days, and even that was only from the neck up, except for being able to see her curves in the moderately form-fitting uniform. Still, everything she saw around her was alien. She was surrounded by cold walls of gray and white instead of comforting orange, and was wearing unusual -- though surprisingly nice -- clothes. She would have to started getting used to it. She could only hope that at least a few more of Alpha's people would be initially warmer to her than the base's colors.
She looked over to the shower, remembering how comforting the first ones here had been, something that felt, sounded, and smelled familiar, and where she could close her eyes to shut out the alien combination of colors and patterns....
"What about after the introductory phase?" Tony started asking. "Would she stay Science Advisor? That we keep that role after all? If she knows a lot, I cannot see a few little sessions, even a whole bunch over weeks, and such, being the end."
"Well, if she shows knowledge or skills learning various disciplines, she might make for a good science officer."
"Oh, no, are you kidding? Science Officer?"
"Why not? Because she is an alien?"
"No.... Well, yes -- and no. You want to give a job with oversight and authority to a girl with probably limited interpersonal skills, much less management skills, who is an alien, and who might not get along with most of the people she would oversee?"
"Outside talent?"
Tony guffawed, saying, "Yeah, and you know how well that tends to go over in corporate environments."
"Sometimes well."
"So you say."
"But say it does and say she shows expertise in most areas, and is an asset on missions...."
"Asset on missions? Oh, I suppose she might be able to interpret some things faster than we have, in some cases, but I don't know, she doesn't strike me.... Hey, I get the impression that Mentor and Maya were alone down there."
"Yes, for a few years at least, I think."
"Not exactly mission-grade experience, science wiz or not."
"How many of our people going on missions for the first time--"
"I know where you're going, but they had drive to get to Alpha in the first, even if they are sometimes lab-bound personalities. Maya's only here because she has nowhere else to go."
Tony droned out a couple more concerns, almost as run-on sentences, but John virtually ignored him, realizing it was time.... There was no good time, and Tony wasn't easing up on Maya; but still.... He let Tony's last protest, for the moment, go by. "I think she could be a lot more useful on missions than just a science officer." He paused, then said, "Maya is a metamorph."
"A metamorph," Tony said flatly. "What the hell is a metamorph?"
"She can transform herself into the form of other biological forms for limited periods of time."
For a fraction of a second, Tony looked at him like John had just confirmed the Moon was made of cheese. Then.... "You're serious? Tell me you're not serious." John held Tony's questioning gaze, and the latter gave him a strange look, looked away for a moment, then back, looking like he was holding back anger. "God, John, why the hell didn't you tell me I was walking around with and guarding a total security nightmare?"
"No, you have been walking around with Maya."
"How does one guard against-"
"Does it change anything? I already told everyone what she did for us."
That made Tony pause, but only for a moment. "John, I still wish you had told me right away," Tony protested. "Why didn't you just tell everyone right away when you announced her?"
"For the same reason you are having trouble with it. She was already going to have two strikes against her in most people's minds almost immediately: that she is a Psychon, and that she is Mentor's daughter."
"Okay, right," Tony said after a long pause, and with a neutral tone, as if saying, I get your point, but I'm still Security Officer and it is still my job to be cautious. "So her being a metamorph would add a third strike," Tony still said, with the same tone. "So let me guess, that you're not going to tell most people until a week or so from now, until some have gotten to know her somewhat, and maybe vouch for her."
Perceptive, on this, John thought. "Exactly. Hopefully by then people will be calmed down, some will know her, some of them will hopefully stick up for her. Try it now, and we might have a lot more trouble."
"Your hiding it for awhile will rankle some."
"I won't wait long, and I will make it clear it was my choice, not her hiding it from all of us."
"That might save her some grief, though not all, over the delay, but cost you some."
"My prerogative to sometimes make unpopular decisions," John said, "and ours to keep some information classified for a time. That includes from your people as well."
This clearly rankled the Security Officer. "Now wait a second, John, she's a security risk, plain and simple, and--"
"I told you--"
"What if she snaps under the stress?"
"What if any of us snaps?"
"Are you kidding? We're not... metamorphs. We can't just suddenly turn into... whatever the hell she feels like."
"Tony, she is not going to attack us."
Tony said nothing, and for awhile, neither did John, until the former finally said something. "Okay, what happens if someone attacks her, gets through a guard, and she feels compelled to defend herself metamorphly... metamorphically? The guard may be as likely to shoot her as defend her."
John realized Tony had a point, regardless of all his other misgivings. "Okay, so who would you trust with this -- including to keep it quiet for now?"
Tony suggested Bokessu, and he was soon called in. The guard's eyes goggled a bit at the news, but quickly recovered, and assured the Commander and First Officer that he understood, and would keep it quiet.
"One more thing," John said after Bokessu left. "No asking her for random demonstrations. She's not a zoo animal. Er, you know what I mean." A metamorph was certainly going to mess up some metaphors.
To his credit, Tony held any jokes, though he gave John a long look. "I'm not sure I want to see that until there is reason anyway," he said. "Okay," Tony said after a few seconds of silence. "So where were we before you told me our new resident has about the freakiest power I've heard of yet? Okay, that didn't come out well; but give me a little time to absorb it. Oh, so that's the extra help on missions you were talking about? Someone who can turn into... what, animals? I'm not sure I get it."
"You just got done telling me what a 'total security nightmare' she could be, and--"
"Okay, withdrawn. Fine, even I can see the potential benefit of a... metamorph who can out-think Computer -- as long as we can trust her in both ways."
"I do. And if that is not enough for you, she gave up everything for our sake. Why would she go back on that?"
"Maybe if she finds she does not like us much."
"Well, then some of that fault would be yours."
"Ouch, touché. Still, what makes you think she has any skills for being an officer? Decision-making skills, including about her... talents. Leadership skills. Organizational skills. Following orders, giving orders. What about missions?"
"Not much different than any junior officer, as you should know -- or any junior personnel for that matter." Tony said nothing. John changed tactics a little. "The problem with modern science is it generates a lot of specialist experts, which is good, but not a lot of deep generalists."
"Renaissance men, like Victor."
"Those people are very rare. Lew at least was good and adaptable; but he's gone now. Do you have anyone else in mind?"
"Funny you should ask, because I was pondering that as you returned from Psychon, and had no good answer. Still, that's a tall order for Maya. Besides, wouldn't we be better off with her in a lab, coming up with new tech?"
"As an officer, she perhaps has a better chance of doing just that."
"How so? An officer wouldn't be able to spend as much time in the lab."
"If she's constantly available at a high level, to see all of what we see, while also starting to oversee more and more parts of the Technical section.... What I'm getting at is that if she can learn our needs inside and out, as one of us, Alphan and officer, and knows our technical strengths and weaknesses, she might find the most fruitful research paths, both from her own knowledge and what she's learned of ours. She could spend a lifetime in a lab trying to reproduce some of her technology, and may have trouble, or miss the mark of our needs, and I mean all of us, including her; or she could be in the thick of things and perhaps be realizing for herself exactly how she could help us the most, short-, medium-, and long-term, whether from her background or just from the mix of experience."
John stopped, to let it sink in.
"Damn, John, you may have something there. That's a hell of a lot of 'if's though. Add another 'if' -- if enough others trust her. If not, what's the point of making her an officer?"
This continued for awhile, until Koenig finally just said, "Yes. I'm telling you she can be trusted, and deserves this new chance too. If you still want to be cautious about her, fine. You see anything meaningfully suspicious, report it. In the meantime, I need your help as well."
Tony didn't look happy; but said, "So you do not want me to just keep an eye out for her safety, but also try to help her learn to be an officer?"
"We will have to talk about how to arrange it, and simply feed her some of the training--"
"A sneaky crash course? Why?"
"I would rather subtly see if she has the natural aptitude for it. If we force it, it could distort everything for her, and for us, and damage the chance of it genuinely growing within her."
"Hmmph, interesting idea. Just how will she be evaluated?"
"There will still be a decision process around any promotion. So?"
"Fine. Under protest, I'll help."
Tony saw helping Maya in this as a challenge. Tony's reservations were understandible, but overcoming them was Tony's other challenge.
Maya, now showered, her hair dried but left down because she had been assured privacy for quite some time, retrieved her snack from the fridge and put it in the microwave. She understood how she had to monitor the food for signs it was heating too quickly or unevenly, and to stir it at intervals. It was simple enough, yet more complicated than the Psychon version, as the Alphan form seemed to lack any basic sensors to regulate the factors Tony and Sandra had indicated were Maya's to oversee. She looked at the small meal'table, but something about eating alone there, today at least, had her rejecting that option quickly. Besides, she was curious about the computer, so she walked over to the desk.
Taking a first forkful of food, something called a casserole, which she liked, Maya looked at the computer monitor and key'board. The latter had about 200 keys, in various color groupings. Some keys had recognizable letters or numbers, some did not, and many were unlabeled. She remembered the overlays Sandra had briefly demonstrated. Though she would use only the green one Sandra had said was primary, Maya took each one, laid it over the keys, then memorized the complete grid of symbols and brief words, then moved to the next overlay, setting up a 'cubic' array in her mind, like a simple version of the associative language hyperarrays.
She locked the primary layer in mind and pecked at the keys, trying to connect the layer with actions her fingers could take, until she found the most effecient way to do so -- though it would take at least a couple days of practice, if not more, to improve her speed. She thought using the blue 'Dvorak' overlay would be better, but Sandra had said to use the green 'QWERTY' one, which matched the QWERTYUIOPASDFGHJKLZXCVBNM order of the keys, suggesting this was the alphabetical order of the Alphan language.
Ready to proceed, she hit the 'ω' reset button, the one Sandra had called omega, got a clear logon screen again, and "logged in." As the computer paused, she took a moment to think of the Khorask-provided definition of the Alphan words "logon" and "logged." There was none; but the fragment they had in common, log, mapped to: large section of central stem or primary branch of a tree. The associations were also useless. Finally, the computer responded with a screen of ordered text. The layout metaphor was alien, just numbered lines of text on the screen, each line appearing at an excruciatingly slow pace, like it was requesting and receiving one piece of data at a time from a data'core on the other side of the Moon.
Alpha Information System (AIS)
1. Status & Important Announcements [views]
2. Basic Information [docs ]
3. Work Station Access [none ]
4. Section by Section [views]
5. System Tools [progs]
6. Electronic Posts [ 4]
7. Personal Files [empty]
8. Customizations [empty]
9. Main Computer Library [docs ]
0. The Light Side of the Moon [board]
Φ options (none selected)
ω log out
logged in: Maya
|
Besides to her own name, Maya's eyes were immediately drawn to the astronomical reference, so she hit the '0' key (wondering why zero came after nine on this screen and the key'board). What was retrieved was, if anything, slower to appear, and completely mystifying:
The Light Side of the Moon [p 1]
1. Atonal Alphans (update) 341 [ 2 pp]
2. "2001" movie square 341 [ 1 pg]
3. Random Recipes 340 [board]
4. Net+Goal 340 [board]
5. Poetic Licence 339 [board]
6. Literally Speaking 337 [board]
7. Book on 7B7s? 337 [ 1 pg]
8. Castle & Check Chess Centre 336 [board]
9. Isaac Asimov 336 [r: 4]
0. small Earth globe? 335 [r: 1]
> Next 335-333
α base page
Φ options (-DAB sort, no filter, full menu)
Ψ Use Common Sense -3695 [read!]
|
Maya looked at the screen, bewildered. It was a screen full of seemingly random words, some of which she did not recognize. It was almost nonsense, ending with a reference to 'common sense' -- without defining what sense. No astronomy, even though the title of the page indicated such -- though she now found it curious what 'light side' really meant on a rotating planetoid. She thought, and realized 'light' was also a reference to mass. That, though, implied geology, which was certainly not present here either.
Atonal Alphans. She looked inward for the meaning of the Alphan word Atonal.... Lacking harmonious sound wavelength combination in the perception of the recipient of the sound. Alphans that sounded bad? Seemed sort of a rude reference.
She hit 'Ψ', and found a few rules about being polite posting, a reference to using common sense again, reference to a "reviewer" who would "quickly remove offensive posts." It was a brief statement, with no explanation about what the "Light Side of the Moon" section was intended to comprise.
She found her way back to the prior page and selected the Atonal Alphans one. This surprisingly, came up a little faster, like it was only looking for fewer diverse blocks of data than the main screen. It said: "Still looking for the musically-inclined. Anyone is welcome, even if you've never played (NOTICE our name!). Please consider joining. Contact me (Jack Bartlett). We're a self-learning group of all levels of experience, including none. We are 12 in number so far but growing. Currently just doing random playing (maybe you saw a recent random practice?), but considering more. We've obtained some instruments on a donated, borrowed bartered, or "permanently lent" basis, though we are looking for more (see list later). We can work out an arrangement that is good for you; and you don't have to play if you just want to lend/whatever (but please do!). Anyone with construction skills, please contact us too; you don't have to play (but again, you are certainly welcome to do so)."
The listing was clearly about an aspect of cultural life, so it was finally not difficult to realize the Light Side seemed to be a cultural exchange forum. She pressed '^' to leave the Atonal Alphans page and return to the Light Side page, then selected '>' to get the next screen of it, and then more screens -- all of it near-gibberish to her, though she grew totally certain it was a cultural or community exchange of some kind. She noticed, however, that the numbers, descending along the way, were tending to grow further and further apart as she paged on. There was a huge gap between 94 and -4, except for one lone 53 saying simply 'Anyone?' Once in negative territory, the numbers grew denser again, more than the numbers on the first page. It was a pattern, but its meaning was unknown to Maya.
It was community'talk via computer. Not an unfamiliar concept to her, though she hadn't seen something like it since she was a child, being shown parts of it by her parents -- Taylia mostly. Mentor had archived much of it, but it was too hard to look at. It had become like history to her, never a strong subject for her -- only more painful for it was the vibrancy of a people that had died on Psychon or left a thousand or more at a time. Except for me. Should I have gone? Left Father alone? No, that would have been too difficult. Also, he would have kept destroying aliens. Now I am one among a few hundred aliens. She shook her head as the tears started welling up. She would have to deal with those thoughts a lot, but not now. Maya tried pushing it back. She would make the best of what she had. She had no other choice, and that is what she wanted to do.
Unbidden, a brief poem from the young philosopher Dorzak wafted to mind.
Psychon is the world of metamorphs,
as much the mind sometimes as the body.
We know not the origin of either,
yet both give strength born and taught.
Even the least of a physical metamorph
can find the true inner transformation.
To become better than oneself,
like leaf'fatworm to flutter'flyer.
Maya wondered what sort of philosophical poetry Dorzak was writing now, in the deep reaches of space somewhere far out of Maya's reach.
They had met at least three times, when she was young. She no longer remembered how her parents knew him, but with Mentor among the top in scientific circles in his middle age, and Dorzak already among the top of his field at a young age, maybe there was some reason....
She pulled partway out of her reverie and thought through the same poem again, and found herself drawing a little strength and calm from considering the words carefully. She would have to be the mental metamorph, and abruptly, realized she had been, in deciding to correct what she could of Mentor's horrifying errors.
That only brought her back to the abyss, the chasm in understanding she wasn't ready to fly around in yet.
She flew from those thoughts, back to the poem, drawing some comfort from his fine words, before returning her attention to the alien monitor'screen in front of her. She wasn't part of whatever the "Light Side" was about, and might never be; but realized if she ever did understand most of what was on these community'talk pages, then it would be a sign she had become part of their community.
She shook her head again. At best, her thinking was premature; at worst, highly unrealistic. The welcome she had received already was quite a lot. It would be up to them to invite her into whatever context these entries were covering. She decided to move on, though yawning and feeling even more tired.
Back on the primary screen, she selected '1' for Status & Important Announcements, On this page, she saw other categories, such as: Announcements for areas such as Command, Medical, Supply, Duty; Roster; Procedures; Status -- nine items to select from. She didn't, deciding she probably wouldn't absorb it well without some of the Basic Information first, to which she returned.
Maya smiled. She loved working on computers, and was starting to enjoy figuring this one out, when she ran into a lot of [-lost] labels on the Basic Information index. Bringing one up, she saw a statement: "This file is lost or corrupt. Technical is aware of this. If the file cannot be recovered, this page/section may be removed without notice at any point." She had seen other [-lost] references, but it seemed Basic Information had the most, as if none of the Alphans needed this section any more. That only brought her back to the mystery of who they were and what they were doing on this planetoid.
One of the few intact pieces of information in Basic Information, and the only one of those that looked useful to Maya at this point, was the section of base maps. She absorbed these quickly, finishing the map in her mind. Some areas were not labeled, which was not surprising. Backing out of the fragmentary Basic Information page, she briefly considered looking over the Roster, but something about looking at alien names and faces on a screen, as opposed to directly meeting them as people, concerned Maya, at least at the moment.
Besides, she was getting very tired now. That only reminded her of her nightmare this morning. The memories washed back, and she fought them....
"One more thing," John said.
"Uh oh," Tony quipped.
"At some point eventually, in the future, I would like to put Sandra through command-readiness training."
Tony nearly choked in a combination of laughter and disbelief. "Sandra? Sandra Benes? You want to make Sandra a senior officer?" John nodded, seriously, so Tony blurted, "Why?"
"When I came back from Psychon, and you and Helena left Command Center with Maya, and Alan was down in the Eagle repair bay, I saw Sandra in Command Center, and it occurred to me, again, even more strongly, just how thin the ranks really are. Tell me, how many senior officers are left?"
"Well, you, me, Alan, Helena."
"And three of us were on Psychon, and could have died there. And how many junior officers?"
"Sandra...." The list ran out.
"She's been junior officer since before Breakaway, has filled almost every role of that except. She coordinates, has oversight, watches, and such. Besides, you just made my point. Our officer core is depleted."
"Yeah, but I think Bill Fraser and Alibe--"
"They are not even officers at all."
"You want to try fast tracking Maya...."
"To junior officer. Bill and Alibe have potential, but Sandra is already a junior officer."
"You know her reputation, right? Sandra's? Emotional, over-reactive, timid. Plus, Paul dying has shocked her deeply -- maybe more than you're thinking."
"Maybe; but I've seen a lot of quiet strength, organizational ability, even some command potential."
"Really, John, the first, sometimes, the second, yes, definitely, but the third? She can handle watch duty well, but when it comes to the big decisions.... When it came to Directive 4, she wanted to try to contact you, which would have given the whole thing away to the Psychons--"
"To Mentor."
"Would have alerted Mentor. What kind of command potential is in that?"
"That is a rough edge."
Tony guffawed. "Sure, among many, especially after she lost-"
"She also shows amazing analysis abilities, has always been calmer when in charge of a watch, and does looks for the high-level patterns while always remembering the small but important details. She knew to inform me the Yellow Alert was still on."
"Well, okay, I missed that, and she caught it. I didn't say she wasn't good at what she currently does. Details."
"No, lots of things, and you haven't been in command circles long enough to see her growth."
"Okay, if I can let Maya try proving herself as potential junior officer material, I can let Sandra try proving herself as senior officer material, though I think it will still be some time before she's even ready for such training to start. Months at least, if not longer."
Tony's spoken words did give John pause. Tony had seen some wisdom in John's words, and John saw some wisdom in Tony's. "You may have a point. It hasn't been that long. Yet maybe we can start some quiet nudges here and there."
They conversed a little while longer, but neither was certain when or how to try proceeding with Sandra, John concluding, "I still see the potential."
"She needs to get back on track first."
"Chicken and egg. Maybe if we give her the opportunity, to grow into the role."
"Hell, John, there's a huge difference between growing into a senior officer role than a junior officer, and you know it... with all due respect. We can perhaps afford a junior officer with no prior leadership experience to find it if she qualifies for most or all the rest -- and comes with extra bonus features, er... interesting talents -- but senior officer is almost all about leadership first."
"Tony, I have no intention of giving anyone a free pass up the command ladder. These decisions will be taken carefully."
"That's all I needed to hear. Well, maybe not all, but that is reassuring. Sorry, John, but, well...."
This was one area where Tony was very different than Paul, who had respected authority very strongly. Respect was virtually everything to Paul, and where except for some occasional tone of doubt, he rarely outright questioned his superiors unless asked. Tony respected authority too, but in a somewhat different way, and was not that concerned about questioning John about anything, though usually behind closed doors, and never behind John's back, that he was aware of.
Neither Paul's approach nor Tony's was superior, just different. He had chosen Tony to shake things up, rather than seeking someone who had more of Paul's style. Along with his other qualifications, Tony had proven John right so far -- sometimes to the point of irritation. Tony was nothing if not blunt, even in his lighter-sounding statements. It was what had kept Tony's career so stunted for so long, yet what John had decided was needed now.
R-346 DAB 0000-0130: Miles Apart
Maya, calm again, alone in an alien room, dressed in alien sleep'clothes, setting down an alien communication device on something with the strange alien term night'stand, sat down on the edge of a very alien bed, and realized all of these were hers now. Her room, her clothes, her commlock, her night'stand, her bed. All granted to her by aliens who had welcomed her here, much to her continued relief.
She looked around at the light gray and white polymer walls, the light gray floor, the computer panels, and everything else.
What now? she wondered, done for the moment looking at their computers and the room, and just trying to clear her mind further, only to find some basic questions coming back to the forefront.
She had been welcomed by the commander, and for that, she was incredibly grateful. She had nowhere else to go, and would have died. Their Eagle space'ships could only attain a small fraction of light'speed at their best. She had no idea where any other Psychon might be. The ships had scattered in different directions. What partial plans might have been given to Mentor, if any, would likely have gone into Psyche, which was now gone along with her father and her entire planet. She had no data. She had nothing. She had no one. Except for some aliens perhaps willing to give her a chance. A chance she wanted to take, to grasp onto, for it and them were all she had.
Back on Psychon, she had done some surface scans of Alpha, at her father's request, so she knew some basics, enough to agree they were "not so advanced" -- as her father had said, perhaps after he had run deeper scans.
The Commander had indicated interest in what she knew scientifically. He had told her she had a place on Alpha. For a brief moment, she feared there might be a contingency, that if she couldn't prove her worth here on Alpha, that maybe she'd be confined to this room, or a cell, or perhaps marched to the nearest air'lock. Aliens were not always kind to aliens, she thought again. The looks some aliens had given her over the years.... She fled that image. But no, what he had said sounded completely non-contingent, a genuine offer of welcome and friendship. Helena's words had only added to that. Out of the blur of memories of the final end of Psyche, she suddenly recalled that Commander Koenig had tried to get her father out too. Maybe Mentor would have been kept in a cell for his crimes, yet Koenig had tried to keep his word. She shook her head briefly, ashamed about her momentary fear about the Commander.
The science they had would probably be revealed, all or maybe just some with restrictions; but within some days or so, she would probably know for sure if there was any chance at reaching other Psychons. Yet her instincts already were telling her that she was indeed thoroughly marooned. She sobbed slightly at the thought, tears coming to her eyes, yet tears that the Alphans would give her a chance, however halting it might be. She was completely at the mercy -- in the hands -- of three hundred aliens, who hopefully would offer her some kind of life. She would take it, with gratitude. She was a survivor like her father, but she hoped in a far different way.
The horrors of what she had seen started returning to her mind. The Alphan standing there, slaving for her father, for a twisted dream of Psychon -- for Maya -- along with all the other aliens still 'alive' -- if a living husk could be thought of as alive -- came back to her, and she sobbed harder.
That they had not left her there to die, had saved her life despite losing two of their own on Psychon and two more here.... The Commander had done the decent thing, but after the horrors her father had visited on them, and her fighting with -- and injuring -- the Commander when his own life was already in peril every moment he tried to save her.... She cried gently, moved by the full realization of it.
He had saved not just her life, but her soul, in a way, for she had, however partially and unknowingly of the full extent of his actions, helped Mentor. For a moment, she felt as if a singularity formed in her heart. It was a shame she had, that however unknowingly, she had helped her father... had helped Mentor....
In gratitude, and to make up a little for Mentor, she would happily do whatever she could do for the Alphans, as long as such did not tread into the sort of highly immoral actions her father had descended into. It wasn't just in gratitude, though. They wanted her as part of their base, maybe eventually part of their community, and she had to -- wanted to -- contribute and be a part, she decided.
This mix of thoughts continued, until it mercifully faded a little, and she was able to start pushing it aside for now. She looked at the bed. Would it be quiet sleep, or another nightmare?
She looked at the night'stand, and the medical wrist monitor sitting there. She had forgotten to put it back on after the shower. She put it on, re-activated it as previously shown, picked up the commlock, turned off the room lights, set the commlock down again. She laid down, pulled the covers over, and almost immediately curled up -- awkwardly on the curved surface -- and shut her eyes tight, as if trying to defend herself while she tried to find some quiet sleep.
She thought of Dorzak's poem again, but the reference to flutter'flyer and the recent memory of Grandmother Mendia had Maya back to thinking when she was a little girl, following that leaf'fatworm in the tree. Then she recalled when she was even younger, in one cool'season. They had a family visit to her other grandparents, Liakvut and Yutoa, along with her parents. Her brother, Telior, had even flown over for a visit. For whatever reason, they were discussing leaf'fatworms and flutter'flyers, when Maya suddenly realized that flutter'flyers came from leaf'fatworms.
"Are they metamorphs too?" she had asked in a curious voice. She was long used to seeing people transform, but did not yet realize the limitations, or that it would be years before she could do it. She was simply struck by the thought that maybe other life was capable of what she saw people doing all the time.
There had been gentle laughter all around the meal'table.
"No, Maya," Grandmother Yutoa said, "not really in the same way as many people are. A little, in their own way; but they just grow differently. You will keep growing taller and become a woman. Leaf'fatworms keep growing longer, then spin a cocoon or make a chrysalis, go to sleep in it, and slowly transform, over cold'season, then break out as a flutter'flyer.
"It takes them the whole cold'season to transform?" Maya had asked in wonderment.
"It will take you many years to slowly transform into an adult," Liakvut had said patiently.
Under the covers and already partially asleep, her thoughts drifting, she wondered if she was in a cocoon now, and would emerge a new woman tomorrow. Grandfather's words made her realize it might be a long cold'season -- the Alphan word winter came to mind -- before she emerged. Then again, she felt as if she had been in a cocoon for years, ignorant of anything outside of the shelter except for what she learned from her father or from records -- only to have that cocoon ripped away by Commander Koenig, her chrysalis cracked open when her eyes had seen her father's actions.
Laughter around a meal'table seemed like such a distant thing now.
It had been another long, strange day for Tony, and this time, it was after midnight, almost 00:50. He emptied his pockets, including of Maya's schedule card, looking at it briefly to see that if Maya was trying to adjust to the new schedule, she should be in bed now. He tossed it on the desk and pondered the strangeness of the day, listening to an alien recount some background history, seeing her in an Alphan uniform, guiding her around, with Sandra, to some introductions and to her own quarters, hearing about the alien's disturbing ability to alter her form at will, listening to John spin unusual ideas of eventually making Maya a junior officer and Sandra a senior officer. Maybe John had misappropriated some of Tony's beer. Hell, maybe I'm in a drunken fantasy world. No, it wasn't that simple. Maybe it was inevitable, that Alpha, drifting through space, would pick up a stray, hopefully-friendly alien. But make her a junior officer? It sounded like the commander was thinking within a month or two. Sandra, a senior officer? Potentially a few steps from command? Maybe John needs some more sleep. I need some sleep.
He looked at the picture of his parents. "Not exactly what I signed up for," he muttered, not so much resentfully as with resignation.
Still, when he looked away, he pictured Maya's face, smiling ever so slightly, her eyebrows seeming almost elegant rather than odd, and her pretty blue eyes--
He realized with a start that she had blue eyes, or at least he thought she did. He had not consciously noticed that before.
Fine, so what? he asked himself.
There was no answer. He changed and headed to the bed. When he got under the sheets, he remembered his earlier thought of Maya tossing and turning in her sleep.
Madre del Dio! Why was he recalling that, of all things. He thought about Lena instead. Better, he thought. Only it wasn't better for long, when he realized he hadn't talked to her all day. Not good with a faltering relationship, though part of him figured it was probably not far from over. He'd seen the pattern too often.
R-346 DAB 0830-0930: Fenceposts?
Maya was on the bed she had slept in for the past number of years. Yet it was curved strangely, trapping her on her back, as living husks swarmed into the room and pinned her there, yelling at her in languages she should have recognized yet could not. Their tone was accusatory as they then dragged her off to the caverns, shoving a large hammer into her hands, forcing her to work as she pleaded that she had not known, until the radioactivity Mentor claimed was in the pits started cooking her brain and mutating her body, leaving her fading thoughts wondering where her father was. "Mentor is dead," some black-sleeved alien began droning vacantly, over and over again. She tried to scream, if for no other reason than to stop hearing his words, even as she continued hammering away at the walls, stared at by mindless aliens, a vulture, and fifteen cold'birds. Her mind began its final fading into oblivion, and she tried to scream again, even as she became a living husk....
She awoke with a loud scream, and finding herself unexpectedly on an uncomfortably curved bed, quickly propelled herself off it, her hand knocking against something in the dark. For a moment, her breath ragged as she stood in darkness, in clothing which felt strange to her, Maya had no idea where she was standing, until it all started rushing back to her. Her father. Psychon. Eagle'ship. Moonbase Alpha. Quarters. Strange looks, yet friendly looks and some kind words too. She latched onto the friendly part, trying to calm herself quickly, not wanting the Alphan doctor calling her right away in the very first minute waking up in her own quarters. She took a moment to recall where the alien night'stand was, took the couple steps over, grabbed the commlock, clicked for the time, and found it was 08:37. Her nightmare had overwhelmed her sense of timing, for she was seven Alphan minutes late waking up.
Already feeling somewhat calmer, despite still feeling disturbed about the content of her dream, and the sense of guilt that if only she'd realized something earlier....
She forcefully clicked the commlock to bring the lights up. That she had finally discovered the truth, was what had landed her in the strange-looking room which now confronted her in its full light. The jarring color scheme curiously had the helpful effect of partially pushing aside the disturbing imagery of the nightmare.
The commlock suddenly beeped in her hand, and she nearly dropped it, then realized someone was calling her. Maya sighed, thinking that it must be Helena. Instead, she found another face, which she took a moment to remember was Sally's, one of her neighbors, who she had met yesterday.
"Maya?"
"Yes, Sally?"
"That's right. Are you okay? The walls in residential quarters are usually pretty well sound insulated, but I thought I heard a scream."
"It was I, but I am okay. Bad dream."
"I can understand that. I just wanted to check."
"Thank you," Maya said with a smile.
"You're welcome. Goodbye."
The call ended, and she waited for Helena to call too, but that did not happen. Far from disappointed, she realized the doctor was likely expecting Maya to have nightmares, and giving her a chance to work through them on her own, at least for now. However, she had not expected the concern from a neighbor, one whose reaction yesterday had seemed mixed, or at least unclear, to her. Maya remembered that Tony was being polite to her too, maybe because having a nervous alien around was making him more nervous, and he wanted her to be calm. Maybe having a screaming alien around was making Sally more nervous. Still, that call, however brief, was a welcome surprise.
She saw the plant and vase on the night'stand, the one from Sandra, was knocked over. She had brushed her hand against it as she launched off the bed. "Ohh," she said, concerned. She righted the vase and plant, both still seemingly intact, Maya needing to put a little dirt back in the pot, and realizing she probably needed to water it. She then moved both plants to the top of the cabinet, on either side of the jewelry'box.
As she did that, she then recalled Tony was going to meet her here in 47 minutes, to bring her to a cafeteria for first'meal -- breakfast.
So she prepared, and got dressed in the slacks version of their uniform, which Janina had prepared. That was a style of clothing she was not particularly used to, but it was a good fit without being too tight. Janina had done a good job, Maya thought. With some time to spare, she sat down at the desk and logged into the computer terminal. One line in particular caught her attention.
6. Electronic Posts [ 7]
The associated number had climbed from 4 to 7.
She couldn't decide what an Electronic Post was, given that what she knew of the word 'post' indicated a vertical pillar partway into the ground and sticking into air, often as a component in a fence. What about that was electronic? Oh, the force field generators I scanned were on towers. The number must be a status indicator, or an active count. That only brought her back to the painful thought of her father's attack, so she instead browsed to some of the other sections, but with little framework about the base, she wasn't sure she understood much about it. There was a daily process to the base, she assumed, that she was not aware of yet. Still, she picked up what she could, until Tony signaled in.
She reached for the cleaned plate and its cover, from yesterday, to return it to the cafeteria, then for her commlock. Her commlock.
When she opened the door, it was still something of a surprise to see his alien yet attractive face. She had seen other aliens before, of course, but they were the strangers in her space, not she in theirs.
Then she noticed what he was holding.
R-346 DAB 0830-1000: Tony and the Metamorph
Tony awoke with a start, images of Maya changing into some movie monster in his mind as he tried to sort out reality from fantasy. Unfortunately, Maya's talent fell on the 'reality' side in the end. He shook his head, the late-evening meeting with John coming back to mind. "Thanks for planting that information in mind so late in the day," he muttered ruefully, but without any real annoyance.
One of his old Breakaway injuries gave a little twinge, so he sought out a gym, then, late in the workout, remembered he still hadn't talked to Lena in awhile. Unfortunately, it was too late to do much about that.
Half an hour later, dressed in uniform and jacket, he arrived at Maya's quarters, outside of which was a plant. He signaled in, then picked up the plant.
Despite knowing what her face looked like, it was still startling to see it, strange yet very attractive at the same time. They held gazes for just a moment, before she noticed the plant.
"Oh, thank you, Tony!"
"Er, no, sorry, it was sitting outside your door."
"How wonderful!" They exchanged the plate in her hand for the plant in his. She touched the leaves in a curious way, looked at the vase, and opened the card, then took it to the table at the back of the room.
In a few seconds, they were walking in the hallway, the plate back in her hand so he could keep his hands free in case there was trouble. However, the hallways were now relatively quiet now: first shift had started.
Tony could not help but look at her somewhat differently. How could someone, even an alien, change herself from one form to another? Too weird. No, 'weird' wasn't the right word. He wanted to call it bizarre, but that sounded cruel. It was utterly alien.
Maya could see something had changed, that he was looking at her oddly, and keeping a little more distance than he already did. She wasn't sure why, but had a pretty good idea it was because he had now been told she was a metamorph. She said nothing, though -- afraid that if she started trying to fill the silence with something about that, and it was actually something else, she'd make matters worse. She noticed that so far, he always walked with her on the left side of him -- opposite of the side where he wore the Alphan weapon.
Tony could see she had picked up on his reaction; but she was tight-lipped, clearly not wanting to say anything first. He gauged her reaction, realizing that as before, he was seeing both anxiety and composure in her. Finally, he realized he had been staying silent, almost as if he was unconsciously waiting for the silence to make her blurt out some guilt. They boarded the travel tube, which was empty, and he decided to just put it out in the open and give her a break. "I can see you are wondering. Yes, Commander Koenig told me about your transformation trick." She looked a bit insulted by his choice of words, yet apparently tried to hide it.
The last thing Maya should have felt was insult about his characterization of her ability, when she did not want him to worry about it. She hastily tried to hide her reaction, only to sigh in resignation, not wanting to leave him antagonized. "Forgive my reaction," she said softly. "It is simply that it is not a trick. It is something nascent in all Psychons, that we can, if we choose, learn to express and use."
Tony couldn't help but chuckle at something in her earnest explanation.
"What?" she said, reacting immediately without thinking, then quickly putting her hand up to her lips in a startlingly human reaction. She turned away, but he explained.
"I had not pictured it being like taking university courses. Beginning Metamorphosis. Intermediate Transformation. Metamorph Mastery."
Maya did not know if he was being mocking or humorous. She decided to try giving him the benefit of the doubt, and... momentarily "shut off the metaphorical force field" about her metamorphosis a little, rather than remaining afraid, and smiled slightly, saying lightly, "it is a little more complicated than that."
Tony could hear her tone and recognized that for once, she was smiling at him of her own accord, rather than because he had smiled a little first. He was surprised to find was a welcome change from the mix of grim composure and nervousness he had always seen in her so far. It made him think that maybe she had a sense of humour somewhere in her, and even... that she was indeed rather pretty for an alien. He set that thought aside quickly as the travel tube reached the destination and they walked out, reminding himself that she was an alien with perhaps the most bizarre ability yet.
He wondered why he had to protect her, when she clearly had better intrinsic defenses than anyone. Then he realized a possible answer: Because if someone surprises her, she might not have time to change. He wasn't sure exactly how this molecular transformation thing was actually supposed to work, but she still struck him as being vulnerable, and if nothing else, she still needed someone to introduce her around.
Hell, if I tick her off enough, she could probably really smack me about. He wasn't about to walk on eggshells around her, however, and she did not seem to take any real offense to anything -- so far. He simply had to deal with the fact of her ability, at least outwardly, and get on with it. John did vouch for her, twice, three times maybe, he reminded himself.
Still, he felt the urge to keep a little more distance. She seemed to notice, and seemed to look a little hurt. Somehow, that spoke more about her character, though he wasn't about to let his guard down yet.
In looking at her and listening to her, she just seemed too familiar somehow, that he had seen and heard her kind before. In security practice, trusting a pretty face, the calm words or looks of 'you can trust me,' was bad -- always bad -- on Earth or in space. Not to mention she was the daughter of that lunatic Mentor, and maybe more of that deceptive nature had rubbed off on her than anyone else was willing to consider. Tony had been suspicious of Maya's father immediately, and had even given a non-verbal warning to John that he should not land on the planet itself -- for all the difference it made in the end. Still, at the same time, he had to wonder what he thought she could possibly be hiding. Her father was dead, her world was gone, and she was left stranded amongst three hundred aliens. Of course, some moviemakers probably could have a field day with that premise too -- not to mention that absolutely freakish ability of hers....
If Maya, Daughter of Mentor, was more like her father than anyone was thinking, or if she simply snapped from the pressure of everything that had happened and was happening now, who knows what she'd be capable of.
And John hopes to make her Science Officer eventually? Science Advisor and some missions was one thing, but Tony regretted not arguing more strongly against Science Officer.
Maya noticed that he was still keeping greater distance from her, and that he was soon back to giving her a scrutinizing look. She quietly looked ahead of her, not wanting to upset him further, and reminding herself not to expect too much too quickly.
She felt better when they walked into a nearly-empty cafeteria and she could smell food, however alien, in the air. The cafeteria was almost empty again, which again Maya was grateful about, already having to avoid making eye contact with the looks or stares. None seemed outwardly hostile, and there was even a smile or two; but she still could not really interpret most of them.
They were soon eating breakfast, Maya listening as he covered plans for a visit to the Medcare'unit 1 Helena had mentioned before, basic emergency procedures with Sandra, and spacesuit training with Bill, at least for half of the first part of her day.
She knew from scans Mentor had her run that the surface of the Moon was 0.1624 Psychon gravity, but that the base had an artificial gravity system based on a series of towers interacting with a series of smaller units embedded in the structure of the base. That they had such a system and set it up with high stability spoke of at least a couple centuries of prior technological development, bolstered by the fact they had force fields, however simple they were. That left her all the more puzzled by their strangely slow and primitive-feeling computer system, an apparent aberration. Of course, even she knew, intuitively more than factually, that no two cultures developed in an identical manner.
After breakfast, Tony and Maya headed in the general direction of MCU-1; but they were running early, so he decided to swing by Security Center to finally introduce Maya and a few more guards, as well retrieve some material he needed for other duties after dropping Maya at MCU-1. Just as Medical had a number of care units spread throughout the base, there were a few security stations, as they were called, spread around. They were frequently two- or three-room setups, one as the station and the other for something else, like a weapons cache, practice range, training room, or such. This, however, was Security Center, and had several rooms, including a moderate-sized anteroom at which at least two security guards were always posted.
Maya already knew Bo, and while they greeted each other briefly but cordially, Bartelson quickly informed Tony that a technician and guard were in the weapons room, doing the weekly inspection. Tony then introduced Maya to Bartelson, and that too was cordial, and Tony decided he could trust Maya with Bartelson.
Tony left Maya with the two guards, and headed to the back door -- to his office. It had a window he could look out, and fortunately had been large enough to double up for his work as first officer, as well. He looked out and saw Maya and the two guards, glancing at each other some but not saying much. On-duty guards were not much for small talk, and it struck Tony that Maya wasn't either, at least at this point.
He also realized he should get her fingerprints, which were on file for every Alphan. He briefly wondered if there was any point to recording the fingerprints of a being who could probably change her fingerprints if she wanted. Still, it was prudent. Then he wondered if she even had fingerprints.
He soon found out that she did, and she accepted this need calmly. After that, they left Security Center.
Several minutes later, Tony and Maya arrived at MCU-1, where the doctor was waiting, while Bartelson took up station outside, and Tony left, happy the alien would be occupied at other places today.
R-346 DAB 1000-1400: Scans and Suits
When Maya was changed into medical pajamas, Helena soon guided her to another pair of rooms as part of the somewhat larger Medical Care Unit 1 complex of rooms. One room had a lot of computer equipment and some monitors, but in looking through the window in the other room, it momentarily appeared empty to Maya, until she realized it was dominated by a single, half-room sized piece of equipment that was colored similarly to the same annoyingly light shade common to many Alphan spaces. Helena guided her into that room and explained that it was a scanner.
"Are you sure you are not a physicist?" Maya said without thinking.
Helena laughed. "Quite sure. Why do you say that?"
Having already blurted out half of a joke she might not have said if she had thought first, she decided she might as well say the rest, and hope Helena would not be offended by the technological reference. "This looks like it could scan a planet."
Helena laughed even more, sounding half-surprised for some reason that Maya could not discern.
"That's funny. No, it is just to scan a person. Do you have any concerns about being subjected to an intense magnetic field?"
Helena didn't seem bothered by what Maya had said, even seemed amused, and had switched contexts; so Maya decided, in this case, not to apologize, and to switch contexts as well. "No, except I better remove a few small hair'pins. Is this a resonance/interference collator?"
"Well, I'm not sure what you meant by that whole phrase, but it is a resonance imager." Helena explained what more she could as Maya partially undid her hair. "Here, give those to me; they have to be taken from this room before I can start the device. Nurse? Thank you. This is not the most advanced medical scanner technologically, but it is still very powerful and useful in its own way. You'll have to lie still for awhile. I'll give you a few minutes to calm your breathing. You're not claustrophobic?"
"Cluster'what?"
Helena clarified, and Maya shook her head.
"Oh, and it can be noisy too," the Doctor said, "with a kind of repeated clanking noise."
Maya had to suppress an expression of surprise. Giant, noisy scanners. It was all rather strange. A joke crossed her mind, but this time, she left it unsaid, not wanting to spoil one accidental but well-received moment of humor with one that might not be as well-received, or push Helena's patience in getting the scan going. So when Helena touched Maya's shoulder, she smiled and moved on, walking over and laying down to be scanned by the alien machine.
Between that machine, several other scans which followed, and a blood donation, Maya spent most of her time lying on her back or only semi-upright, so by the time these actions and some questions were over, she felt surprisingly anxious for the spacesuit training. This feeling strengthened when the doctor mentioned she had observed signs of distress in Maya, via the wrist monitor, earlier in the morning, and began asking about the nightmare, which Maya politely refused to discuss. Helena stepped around that and asked how Maya had slept otherwise, but Maya did not want to talk about the uncomfortably curved, alien bed. It would not do to insult those who had given her a home by complaining about something she had been given, at least not on the first night she used it. Helena gave Maya an odd look which she could not interpret, but moved on.
The doctor asked about prior medical conditions and latest illnesses, and the latter prompted a terse reply: "I am not a child. Oh, doctor, I am sorry. It is just that once the partial metamorphic abilities become available early in adolescence, invasive organisms 'feel' foreign and we can outshift them." The doctor looked more amazed than annoyed, but Maya apologized again.
"No, no, that's okay. You can detect foreign organisms?"
"It is almost completely unconscious -- or is most of the time. It is not just organisms, but also unwanted invasive substances, semi-consciously. They are not part of me."
"So you don't have symbiotic organisms within you? Do you understand the question?"
"Yes, I understand, and yes, there are symbiotic organisms; but those I know are a needed part of me."
"How?"
"Exactly how was a slight mystery to us. It is instinctive, actually. Speculation was that since a pre-adolescent child has a metasense, that we somehow learn or just know which... microbes are a normal part of us, and which are attacking us."
"So you get sick as a child?"
"Often. A theory is that microbes are partially or fully adapted to us being metamorphs capable of shifting them out, starting in adolescence, and attack younger children more often, but still not too strongly because then we might be wiped out, which would be detrimental to the disease as well."
"So metamorphosis becomes your immune system?"
"An extra one, perhaps one can say; our regular immune system still remains developed to whatever point it was. At extreme age, even partial shifts may become inaccessible again, for some, and the regular system takes over, I guess."
"But it may be weaker from disuse or simple aging."
"I suppose, probably. I am not a physicist... sorry, physician."
Helena asked a couple more questions along those lines, further into territory that was not a skill of Maya's, and that line of questions soon came to an end, with Helena renewing her invitation for Maya to ask questions. So she asked some, and among other answers, was also informed about a need for first'aid training in the near future, which made perfect sense to Maya. "I was trained in enough skills on Psychon, but with Psychon equipment, and for Psychon people."
"Exactly why you need to have a full course on it here. It will be arranged; I am not sure when yet."
Maya also asked what "Y-" meant, only to find out Helena had previously generated a designation for Maya's blood type. They had already started making her part of their medical notational systems, and she found that comforting.
When this session was over, almost at noon, she was given a brief break. Then a walk down more hallways -- the alien city was far larger than the system of orange shelter tunnels back on Psychon -- with Bartelson brought her to Alan, Bill, and another person who was from Service Section, to whom she was introduced by Alan.
Further greetings were exchanged, but they soon got to primary'talk. It turned out they already had a spacesuit ready for her. Curious as to how they had done so without a scan, she was informed Janina, who they called Joan, had supplied the measurements.
What followed was a lot of explanation about oxygen distribution, carbon dioxide filtration and elimination, mixes, back pack, front pack, guages, and other details, which she listened to intently. Finally, she got to try it on, and though it felt somewhat thick and awkward, it did fit.
"In many ways," Bill said, "it actually feels more comfortable in low gravity, though walking in low gravity is something else to get used to."
They then tried a helmet, which fit. The person from Service then carefully added a label to it: MAYA
"This is mine now?"
"The whole suit."
"I take it to my quarters?"
"No, there are particular rooms scattered about the base, often partway between quarters and work station, as a compromise location. Having them outside of quarters also allows people from Technical Section to easily check their integrity, tank pressure, and electronics."
"Logical; but I don't know where my work station will be."
"That's fine. We picked out a location anyway. It may change later."
Partway through more discussion, at 12:56, Alan left for debriefing, a word she had heard before but did not entirely understand except from context as some type of meeting.
Bill started conducting some speed drills, where Maya had to learn to don her suit as fast as possible, Bill listing off an elapsed time'interval at the end, praising her each time she was faster, as well as noting what subskills she could improve. By the time these were done, she felt a bit physically tired.
Cooperative skills were demonstrated and practiced next, at a less urgent pace, for this was about non-emergency situations, where more thorough checks of each other's suits for safety could be run as well. In some emergencies, a thorough system of such cross-checks were perhaps not always possible or even advisable; but were still meant to be checked at the next available opportunity.
Maya started asking technical questions about the internal components of the packs and their filtration systems, but Bill had to admit he wasn't really familiar with the internals.
The two-hour training session wound down.
Maya soon found herself back in her quiet quarters, again feeling the same unusual mix of happiness to be alone but sadness as well. She speculated that maybe part of her was enjoying the greater social contact, even though she remained nervous about it at the same time. It was an unusual mix to reconcile, but she decided she'd just have to let it continue to happen.
She left her hair up as went to the computer to sample more pages of information, also noting the Electronic Posts counter had climbed to 11, but she again ignored this apparent summary of defensive potential, though she was happy they were affecting successful repairs, and moved on.
R-346 DAB 1300-1500: De-Briefing
Three days after the destruction of Psychon, it was time to talk about what had happened there, and Koenig, Verdeschi, Russell, Carter, and Benes were the primaries, while Fraser would be called in for part of it.
There was a lot Koenig alone had heard from Mentor, that Verdeschi had overseen on Alpha, or that others may have seen alone or at least perceived alone, that needed to get out in the open among the officers. Verdeschi knew little about what had happened on Psychon, but had been biding his time with outwards patience and inward impatience.
This meeting was to gain a fuller picture of what had happened on Psychon, so that all the officers were filled in, and some conclusions drawn. Written reports would be made as well. Some of the details would remain classified, some would perhaps be released as a general statement.
With Fraser not yet present, Koenig gave the officers the broad description of events of those captured on Eagle 4 had seen. The capture of their Eagle, being deposited in the bottom of a then-inactive volcano, the spaceship graveyard, yet some more oily "reassurances" from Mentor and his request they stay put, the Alphans striking out into the cavern, the mine and miners, Torens, a guard turning into rock, Picard being vaporized. He presented the facts, simply and dispassionately.
Hearing about Picard and Torens was probably like kicks in the gut to those who had not known how they had died, namely to Tony and Sandra. Tony sat back, a look of disgust on his face in regard to Torens appearing as a virtual zombie.
"We were all recaptured by another sphere of light, and this one knocked me out. I woke up and met Maya standing outside the cell." He left out the lioness, at least for now, recounting that it was a fractious meeting at best, including his running into a force field. He recounted her taking him to her father, Mentor dismissing her from the room. Mentor's dream of restoring Psychon and his twisted methods. Mentor's descriptions of Psyche. Demonstration of its capacity at molecular transformation, including against the Moon. Mentor's ploy using other Alphans, Koenig's counter ploy via Directive 4, the Psychons discovering it. Maya confronting Koenig and Koenig confronting Maya. Her fleeing but returning in shock and releasing them. John destroying Psyche, Mentor pleading with Maya to stop Koenig and her reply regarding what she had found. The beginning of the final end of Psychon and Mentor's plea to save Maya.
Koenig then paused. Here came another kicker, of a different kind, for a different reason.
"Mentor was behind a wall of fire, shouting at me to save Maya and at her trying to justify himself yet claim he never meant harm. When she released us, her only condition was that he not be harmed, but now he seemed in danger of dying, and she wanted to save him. I yelled at him to get out of there, but he refused, and I had to stop her from running into the flames after him. She and I fought." He paused, then said, "She actually has a most unusual and useful ability, one she requested I inform the whole base about immediately, but that I felt better released in stages." This caught a curious look from Sandra and Alan, who were sitting in neighboring chairs. John could see Helena and Tony watching those two to see how they would react to what came next. "She had already used the ability as part of an attempt at a playful introduction when I was not in a playful mood, at which point she apologized. Later, she used again more seriously, trying to get away from me and to her father." He paused again, hoping he had laid enough groundwork this time.
Alan looked very impatient. Sandra seemed a little more patient but no less curious.
John continued. "Maya is a metamorph." What you have seen is her true biological form, much like any of us, but she is able to molecularly transform herself into other biological forms."
Koenig paused to let it sink in. Alan's initial look of incredulity faded into one of surprise, then amazement, as if finally accepting that John was being serious, and reacting to the information. "Holy cow," he said slowly. Then he let gave a half laugh, and said, "We've seen aliens do some pretty amazing things, but that has to top them all."
Sandra shook her head, seemingly not in anger, or in shock, just one of renewed amazement of the surprises the universe kept throwing their way.
He couldn't blame them.
"It is an ability under her control, one that has limitations we are starting to find out about. It is one she has to practice to improve upon, and I have requested she continue doing so; which she will do discretely. She is no danger to you, or us as a whole, and I hope you treat this as a talent she has, not a reason to fear or avoid her."
Alan spoke up: "That's a wallop to take in, but I saw what she did for us, what she gave up. No problems here."
"Good," John said, then looked at Sandra.
"It is a surprising ability, and it shocked me for a moment; but that does not really change anything. She helped us, and now she needs us."
He nodded for a moment, pleased at her reaction, hoping Tony would notice that there was still strength in her. Indeed, he caught Tony looking at her momentarily. Probably didn't change his mind, and Tony still had good points for John to keep in mind, but hopefully Sandra would re-center herself eventually.
Four of the five of them around this table, John Koenig, Helena Russell, Alan Carter, and Sandra Benes, had been direct witness to many bewildering and shocking things. Tony Verdeschi, while not as direct a witness to most of these events, had not been immune either, and though not as tempered in the ways the other four survivors of many direct encounters with alien peoples and forces, he was a quick learner, and more thoughtful than most gave him credit for.
There was some discussion about how a few were meeting with her later, to get more detail. John, with a few words from Helena, reprised what detail they did have, such as a time limit, something about capacity of forms limiting her intelligence, and some of her fractured descriptions. "There is something about size limitations," John continued, "and that she's still learning to turn into even larger and smaller forms."
"Oh?" Tony piped up. "Sounds like a big violation of physics. E=mc2 and all that. How could she be losing mass without it turning into enough energy to well... put a new crater on the Moon?"
"I have no idea. I saw her do it, and her mass did change. She was a hawk-like bird, a shepherd-like dog, a lioness, and a great ape."
Alan looked at him. "How did you hold her back from--"
"By the time she got free, it was too late to help Mentor. For the classified record, though, she did leave me with a few bruises, plus, as a bird, two minor puncture wounds to my wrist."
"Which are healing well," Dr. Russell added.
John looked at Tony, who looked exasperated, rolling his eyes slightly, probably in reference to Tony's words about her being a security nightmare.
"I told her that her father would not be harmed, but events got way beyond the control of either of us. As much as she was horrified at what she learned about him, he was still her father, and she wanted to save him. I level no blame whatsoever against Maya about her actions, and with this, the official classified report, and the medical report which will remain a confidential matter as usual, I will consider the matter of her injuring me as closed."
There was a brief conversation about when her ability might best be revealed to the rest of Alpha, but there was no clear consensus on a time, though most agreed not too long.
They moved on, to Sandra's perceptions. She stated regret for arguing about Directive 4, the veiled order to attempt to destroy Psychon, admitting she now thought Tony was correct to follow the order.
Alan didn't have much to mention different from John, except for waking up in a cell not to any greeting from Maya, but to soon being hauled off as one of the intended victims of Psyche. He added some detail about the futile attempts to save Eagle 1. "We did a data dump, and it showed an Eagle door opened well after Bill and Ray left the Eagle. We think Mentor or one of the guards removed a primary flight controller. Why he didn't cripple Eagle 4 too, I don't know, but I think we were even luckier to get off the planet than we thought."
Helena similarly added some of her perceptions, including about Mentor as a possibly conflicted soul, other points others had not made, and the unsuccessful rescue attempt of Torens, due to cave collapse. "I'm not sure I could have done anything for him, but we'll never know now," she added.
They called in Fraser, the only survivor of the earlier Eagle 1 mission to Psychon. He had a similar story about his Eagle being landed on the volcano floor, similarly disbelieved "reassurances" from Mentor, him and Torens arming themselves as they left the Eagle to confront the situation, only to be swallowed up by the sphere of transference light as well, and waking up in a cell. They had not been met by Maya, but rather Psychon security.
"I wonder why the difference," Tony said. "Or sending Maya to meet you at all, John. Did anyone else meet her?"
"I didn't see her until near the end," Alan said, to agreement from Helena.
"I don't know why," John had to admit after a few moments of thought, then wondered.... "She probably saw a lot of angry aliens. I was not pleased to meet her either."
"That one transportation from cave to cell gave me a headache and fuzzy vision when I woke up," Bill said, to confirming nods from Helena and Alan.
"Indoctrination?" Tony asked. "Mentor trying to show Maya that all aliens are hostile?"
John shrugged. "If so, it wasn't working well. She asked me why I was so unfriendly, as she put it. In hindsight, she was definitely trying to be friendly to me."
Verdeschi seemed vaguely unimpressed for some reason, but said nothing.
The conversation covered a few more points with Fraser, until Koenig thanked him for his input and dismissed him.
For some length of time, there was silence as each drank some water or coffee, and digested the various viewpoints they had heard. Then they moved on to trying to draw some initial conclusions. Eagle 4 had been a dual diplomatic/rescue mission, and though no one had harbored illusions about the possibility of a trap, there had not been much choice. Not sending a mission at all was out of the question. That would have amounted to abandonment of Torens and Fraser, and that was unthinkable. Alphans as a whole always tried to save their own, and though some would grumble about the foolhardiness of it, most would not, and none at the higher levels. They had to protect each other. If they wouldn't, who would?
Tony had not argued that point either, neither at the time nor now. His main point, made non-verbally, had been to advise John not to land on the planet, but rather rendezvous in space. There had been a good chance Mentor was being honest about fearing attack. The planet had been in ruins, and even after being surprised there was anyone resident on the planet, it had still seemed unlikely there were many. If Alphans did nothing but shrink from danger, they would likely soon whither, or be crushed.
The conversation moved on to how Mentor had, in a sense, picked the crew to come to Psychon. Tony, who had not argued it at the time, now wondered if it had been wise to follow that. Yet that came back to the possibility Mentor's moves could have ended up being purely defensive and that all could have come out well. Not that this had happened all that much, but to resist on what could have been commonsense decisions if Mentor had been telling the truth, could have been highly undiplomatic, and perhaps not well received. Aliens, like humans, could be touchy about protocol. The Deltans had been none too pleased with the Alphans when Dione's ship Satazius had stopped playing possum and started attacking Delta again. Gwent reacted poorly to an attempted rescue mission. Gwent was another example of an Alphan team being picked from the outside. There had seemed to be little choice either time now, but all agreed maybe they should be willing to question or resist -- where they could anyway.
The spine booster had proven to be a good choice. It had done little in its first use, but its second use had saved the survivors' lives as they fled from Psychon's rapidly escalating -- and final -- destruction. "What about the unit?" John asked.
"The booster module is damaged. It conked out with 10% fuel remaining. I don't know why yet. Then it got hit with debris. We haven't been able to fully assess how much or how repairable it is."
"While we're on the general topic, how about Eagle 4?"
"Some signs of stress. She's already flight worthy for emergency use again, but beyond that, I've taken her out of rotation for a Level 3 overhaul. Weeks, it looks like."
"You realize the nuclear Eagle turned out to be a waste," Tony commented.
So many Eagles -- three -- lost to Mentor and Psychon.
"Yes, and no. Maya didn't understand the action. It angered her, and she confronted me, and that was the break I needed that allowed me to finally get through to her."
"It took you and a nuclear-filled Eagle to get through to her?"
John didn't like his tone, but let it pass, as he hoped Tony's mixed response to Maya would as well. It only reconfirmed John's decision to put Tony in charge of Maya's well-being: if Maya was to become an officer, she and Tony had to get to past their so-far rocky start.
"Tony," Helena said. "Her father was the only person she knew for who knows how many years. He was her father, apparently treated her very well and gave her little or no reason to doubt him, and he probably had excuses ready for any questions she might have asked anyway."
Tony looked rather unimpressed, yet his expression softened, and he said, "Okay, I guess the Eagle wasn't a total waste then." Carter had an equally mixed expression on his face, and Koenig could guess for a somewhat different reason over even the same words: the loss of any Eagle was a waste, but probably agreeing it had at least not been a total waste. The other two Eagles, however, were another matter, and a life had been taken at the same time as the loss of one of those. Perhaps Alan had not been happy at Tony's mildly uncharitable view on what it took to get through to Maya, too.
"Alan, salvage status on the Combat Eagle?"
Alan shook his head. "Not much. Some parts, with repair. Some random circuitry and components. The fuel was recovered safely. The rest will have to be recycled or stored. It won't take much longer to clear out the debris, and then repair on the lift and pad can begin. I checked with the Chief Architect and Chief Engineer, and their collective estimate was two weeks for that."
In the past, John would have delegated obtaining estimates and other tasks relating to both pad repairs and repairs to the structure where Jane Clemens had died, to the first officer. Given Tony's Security duties related to Maya, John would have taken them both back up; but oversight within pads and hangars had, with the splitting of Technical Section duties among several officers, gone to Alan recently. Thus, Alan ended up seeing to pad/lift repairs, and John, this time, the other structure. It was a sensible way to divide it, even though both John and Alan were talking to some of the same architectural and engineering personnel.
They covered some more ground on repair status, drifting back away from the original purpose of the meeting but to some necessities. The outer hull in the area most damaged, where Jane Clemens had died, would probably be repressurized within days, but the inner damage, which while not the damage which had killed Jane, was otherwise much worse, would take some time to fix, as parts of the floor would have to be removed. "As hard as it will be for her, I will be having Maya inspect the damage as well and offer any advice she might have. Her knowledge of Psyche was clearly limited by her father, but there may be things she might know about molecular transformation which can help here."
They then moved on to casualty status, Helena reporting.... "Down to three: the original serious and critical cases. Diane Bell remains critical but stable, in a maintained unconscious state for perhaps another twelve hours. The other two have been upgraded to fair, and will probably be released later today or early tomorrow."
The de-briefing had drifted into status reports, but now went quiet, as they sorted through their thoughts to see if any details had been left out for the de-briefing part.
Tony, checking through his jotted notes, found something, "By the way, John, I had to have activate the shield again while you were returning, due to incoming debris from Psychon. It didn't amount to much -- the debris heading right for Moonbase that is -- but it seemed safer with it up."
John nodded, but something struck him abruptly. "Helena, the titanium."
"What little I found on Psychon before we ran across the miners, I handed to Mineralogy, and their analysis is that there will be enough for only half the original need. We still need the rest."
"Understood. Sandra, next chance you get, coordinate with Cartography and Records and see if we can pinpoint where those planet fragments may have come down on the Moon. If someone can narrow it down enough to be worth a mission...."
"You think some may be titanium?" Tony asked.
"Not the most likely, but perhaps. Maybe something else. Who knows what was deeper in the planet. Theory has it that metals tend to sink during planetary formation, after all. Find out if it is worth looking into. Oh, and have someone run the satellite data and see if any debris went into long orbits around the Moon."
"The fragments tracked to near Moonbase were not that large, some up to twenty meters," Tony stated. "But yeah, with the whole Moon getting hit and some going into orbit, we probably do have quite a lot to survey over the next months if not longer."
"Commander, I will start with the area around Moonbase, where the best tracking information was," Sandra stated.
"Good."
Another pause, then Dr. Russell spoke. "Was it really energy, in the usual electrical sense, that Psyche needed? The power output of the human brain is really not that high, and it felt more like it was trying to rip into my mind."
John gave her a sympathetic look, then leaned forward. "I think maybe something got lost in the translation, and perhaps in my retelling it too. I doubt it was simple physical brain energy, especially after what you just said, unless there is something more about that which Mentor's machine could find, but rather the energy and organization of the mind. He talked more about minds, and so did I in response to him, actually. I doubt victim's conscious minds made it in, because he was still talking in terms implying sums of 'energy' instead."
"The patterns of organized thought, maybe," Helena said.
"Like he was building a single, unified super-mind?" Tony asked.
"Maybe. That would explain a lot. He said Psyche had the power of molecular transformation, which seems to have been a common ability down there. He said something too about many of his people having donated their minds to the machine. Perhaps when Psychon started dying, so did massive numbers of people before they could flee, or something. Maybe the raw ability to control molecular transformation survived and grew in Psyche too. It was a biological computer, so maybe whatever physical aspect there is to transformation, besides the mental aspect, went in as well. It was through Psyche's control of that ability that the Moon was attacked."
"Whew," Tony said. "I wonder why he couldn't actually get the planet itself transformed if there was that much power."
"I suspect he was close. So close that maybe the three hundred of us would have been just enough to do it. He still spoke of chances rather than certainty, but all the attempts to get us off-Moon, and that the planet honestly looked like it was near its end."
"Make or break time for Psychon," Alan said.
"Very literally, perhaps," Tony said quietly. "Re-make or break-up."
"If we hadn't come along...." Alan started.
"Within months, Mentor might have been pushing Maya onto a spaceship of their own to get her away," John said.
There was silence. No one thought that sounded any more pleasant for her than landing on a base of jittery aliens who had just survived a brutal attack from her father.
John paused, Mentor's sheer ambition and smug, self-assured attitude and gigantic ambitions suddenly reminding him of similar characteristics, even with different goals, of Dr. Cabot Rowland. Restoration of an entire dying planet in one case. Understanding immortality and becoming 'as gods' in another. Unchecked ambition, conveyed in booming voices which could become subtle and sly at the drop of a hat. Long-unchecked ambition becoming each of their unravelings, directly or indirectly.
"So are you going to ask her about all these ideas?" Tony said.
"I don't know what purpose that would serve," John said. "Mentor was clearly shielding her from Psyche's true nature."
Helena nodded. "Nothing will be served by troubling Maya with questions which will definitely upset her, which she probably cannot fully answer, or answer much at all, and that won't help us much."
"No, and it won't bring anyone back," John said
"If she offers thoughts at a later point, fine," Helena said, "but I would rather not have her feeling interrogated about Psyche. She's got enough to deal with and overcome without adding that."
"We all know how painful it is to think of what we had and lost on Earth, to talk about it at all, even with the knowledge Earth was not destroyed. She lost everything she knew."
There was brief silence again, then Sandra said, "Maybe keeping her busy will help. Coming from a technically advanced culture, I wonder how much she knows."
Out of the corner of his eye, John could see Helena trying to keep a straight face.
John sat forward in her chair. "I asked her a few questions on the Eagle, and got a strong sense she is very technically oriented, even among their technologically-advanced people. My intention is to ask her more questions about her abilities, technical, scientific, metamorphic, and otherwise. If she seems to be a good technical or scientific resource, or would be after some acclimation to our technology, I intend to make her Science Advisor, at least for awhile. There would be a series of scheduled meetings with various Technical Section department heads and other key researchers, in which I hope there is mutual discussion. Hopefully there will be advice she can give and things she can learn. I realize that title has been through a few changes lately, but this seems a good role for her for now."
"I don't think the good Professor would have minded. And what about Science Officer?" Alan asked.
"That is still an open question. Lew was really our best candidate, but I'm not really sure who is enough of a generalist yet with extensive expertise." Of course, he figured there was a good chance Alan and Sandra would draw another connection, if that wasn't already why Alan had asked.... "And yes, the thought of Maya has crossed my mind, but that's far too early to tell too, for too many reasons. We don't know how fast she adapt, technically or socially. It is a leadership role too, and the hope would be to restore all Technical Section areas to the Science Officer eventually." He rehashed more of his earlier thoughts, discussed previously with Helena and then Tony. There were unknowns, yet possibilities, perhaps.
Curiously, neither Carter nor Benes seemed too surprised or concerned about the possibility, perhaps because of the conditions Koenig had just stated, or maybe because they were accepting of the possibility of an alien science officer yet still saw the conditions as sensible. After the argument from Tony -- a largely logical one, actually -- this was still something of a relief not to have to rehash the same points.
"Can I count on all of you supporting Maya as Science Advisor?" There was confirmation all around. "Good."
The meeting wrapped up, no one needing to be reminded official written incident reports would still be needed.
John waited patiently. Finally, after almost forty-eight hours filled with squaring away at least the basics regarding the damage Mentor had wrought on the base, though repairs would continue for some time, it was time for a formal meeting with Maya.
The meeting was set up for 16:00 - 18:00, and he had previously decided to keep it simple, just Maya, Tony, Helena, and himself -- not even the full set of officers. There were four chairs arranged evenly around the table. It was not to be an interrogation, but a conversation. Helena was already sitting on his left, and when Tony and Maya came in, he lifted his hand towards the seat opposite of him, saying, "Please, take a seat, Maya." Tony then took the seat to John's right.
"Thank you, Commander," she said politely. He couldn't tell if she was calm or nervous about this meeting.
"So how is your room?"
"Very generous, and very nice. Thank you."
"Your neighbors?"
"I met them before moving in." She didn't say anything more for a moment, then added, "And Sally has talked to me since then."
John realized with a start that he hadn't even seen her in two days, though at least one of those days she had slept through. Still, he'd have to talk one-on-one with her sometime soon. The small talk was brief, but sounded promising, and he moved on.
"This is going to be just a general conversation, more of a 'get to know each other better' session." She seemed to brighten at his words, which he had chosen intentionally as a reminder of what he had said trying to comfort her on Eagle 4. "We'll ask questions of you, you will ask questions of us. We can offer information. We're not really going to pry about Psychon or Mentor--"
"Please, if you have to know something--" she started, as if wanting to give them any reassurance she could that she was not her father.
He put his hand up, and said, "We really just want to find out more about you, as I'm sure you want to know more about us. Why don't we start with a question or two from you."
She seemed surprised by that. His action was intentional, to let her feel a little more comfortable immediately that this was to be a two-way street. She was quiet for a couple seconds, probably not from having to come up with a question but deciding which of the jumble to pick first.
"Where do you come from? Why -- and how -- did you set up a base so quickly on a hyperspatial wanderer?"
They could have laughed at her questions, but her genuine curiosity struck right to the heart of their predicament, so there were simply knowing nods all around, acknowledging the strangeness of it, as Helena answered "We're from a planet called Earth by many, Terra by a few, and a variety of other names. Sometimes we called ourselves Terrans, occasionally Earthlings. Now we call ourselves Alphans, after Moonbase Alpha here."
"Have you ever heard of us or our planet?" Tony asked, rather loudly.
"I recognize none of those names. I only know you as Alphans, starting from a few days ago."
"This wanderer," John started, "used to be Earth's natural satellite." That startled her. She probably already wondered what physics could have changed that. "We built a base over some time, but we had considerable radioactive waste disposal areas, mostly on the far side -- other side from Earth -- of the Moon, and for reasons still not fully understood, first one small deposit and then one massive one exploded, and the second blew us out of orbit." Maya looked suitably more and more surprised.
Helena jumped back in. "We call the event Breakaway, and it happened nearly a year ago, on September 13th of the year 1999. We've been counting Days After Breakaway, DAB, ever since. Today is 346 Days After Breakaway."
Maya didn't seem to know what to ask next, so John asked her, "You called our Moon a hyperspatial wanderer, but said it almost as if you recognize the phenomenon. Is it something normal?"
"Normal? Well, yes and no...." She stopped, probably trying to sort out a better answer.
Tony jumped in, "We're aware we are, away from star systems, surrounded by some enormous bubble of normal space that seems to be zipping along at faster-than-light speeds. Professor Bergman theorized it was some sort of hyperspatial interaction."
"He is correct. You appeared out of nowhere, apparently from a near-instantaneous warping of space, close to our star system, moved a short distance in the typical bubble, which then collapsed when you hit the edge of our system."
"Typical?" Tony asked, a little impatiently.
"Sufficiently large stars, including all of those known to be supporting sentient life, have typical spatial properties regarding radiation, gravity, and other fundamental properties. Yet they are having an effect in hyperspace as well... carving out... a... sphere -- to be imprecise -- of direct hyperspatial interaction. Small objects and large objects in normal space are unaffected, but objects ranging from larger asteroids through planetoids to smaller and moderate rocky planets, are often affected, such that if they are gravitationally ejected from the system in normal space, they may reach a boundary, ah...."
"We've been calling it the Space-Normal Boundary."
"That is a... good working name. Reach that boundary, and hyperspatial interaction begins, a bubble forms, and the object goes superluminal, but with a... pocket?... of normal space around it."
"How large of a pocket?"
"For the smallest and largest objects, it is very small. It increases steadily in between... in a... logarithmic-adjusted symetric hill'curve.
It sounded like she meant a bell curve would appear when the logarithm of the mass was taken, but as interesting as that would be to pursue, John held his question, and Maya continued.
"Your Moon apparently sits very close to the middle of the curve, though I have to admit Mentor and I found your hyperspatial bubble of normal space to be much larger than equations imply."
"Why?"
"Maybe you're so very close to the center of the hill'curve that an unknown secondary effect arises. I do not know."
Tony laughed. "The story of our existence."
Maya looked at him, puzzled, but said nothing to him; though after a pause, she asked another question. "Would I be able to meet Bergman? I mean the Professor."
"Actually, his name was Victor. Victor Bergman."
"Victor. Was?"
"He died a few weeks ago."
"Oh. I am sorry."
"It is a pity, because I think he would have loved to meet you, and talk with you."
Maya looked down slightly, then after the silence lingered for several moments, looked up, but said nothing.
"You have a question?" Tony asked, in a surprisingly even tone.
"Did you ever ask another alien before me about your hyperspatial traveling?"
John answered. "The occasion rarely arose, in fact only once. I asked Captain Zantor-- do you know the Kaldorians? Kaldor."
"Very tall, usually with flowing robes and long hair?" Tony provided.
"Negative recognition."
"That's okay. I asked Captain Zantor how our Moon was traveling the way it was when in-between star systems, and he simply answered, 'How could it do otherwise?' -- like he did about how his ship's computer found the Moon in the first place when it was so far from where it had been when they started their journey." The Kaldorians had been one enigmatic bright spot in their journey so far, and that time, it had been the humans -- a human -- to mar it somewhat, to his own presumed death.
Into a moderately long, contemplative silence, Maya timidly asked another question. "How many of you are there?"
"There are currently 294 of us, including you," the CMO said.
Maya smiled, obviously appreciating the way Helena had said it.
"There is rooming capacity for dozens more," Tony started, "but there are various factors which keep us limited, and we recently finished most of a move to lower-level accommodations and are starting to convert former upper-level accomodations for other purposes."
The conversation covered a few other basics about the base, and a handful of their encounters over the last year, but only a few as examples to frame the situation they were in, for Maya hardly needed reminding of attacks against Alpha.
She clearly thought it was sad people had died. Maya once again seemed to be a very sensitive being when it came to life.
After a little more discussion along these lines, John turned the conversation towards her metamorphic ability. He had decided to save questions on potential technical skills for later, to start with this more first and end on a less exotic but hopefully no less strong of a talent. He first started with a little rehashing, to get the topic going. This continued for a short while.
"So I heard you can actually change mass?" Tony soon asked.
"Yes. Currently I can get as small as a moderate sized bird, and to a couple times my normal weight."
"Currently?" Tony asked.
"With practice, I will be able to extend the lower limit, and with practice and other factors, to extend the upper limit as well."
"So, what, you can eventually become a bacterium or a brontosaurus?"
"I do not understand."
"Microbe or a 30-foot-high reptile," Helena said.
"It does not work that way. At the low end, I am limited by the brain capacity. If there is too little to leave me room to rewrite something for my instructions and reversion instincts, I cannot do anything useful, and cannot revert to normal and would die -- and my instincts would forbid even the attempt to make such a transformation."
"So how small, eventually?"
"A medium-sized insect."
"How large?"
"A few times my own mass. There is no brain-capacity limit. There are other factors, such as accumulation of... metamass, and... I do not know how to explain the other main factor."
"What happens to the mass? Our understanding is that if you eliminate that much mass, there should be massive amounts of energy."
"It is not eliminated. It is shifted, into... hidden dimensions, tiny... 'loops' far smaller than molecules, where the mass is not... ah... does not create... does not have... typical effects in three-dimensional space."
"Metamass?"
"That is what the shifted mass can be called. Also, though, I've been carrying an increasing amount of metamass since I started adolescence, even before I learned to transform or access it. That is what allows me to transform into more massive creatures."
"Whewww," Tony said, half-fascinated and half-surprised. "All Psychons can do this? Well, you mentioned something about learning."
"All Psychons have some nascent ability, and low-level access. All accumulate metamass, and there are certain subtle, very... limited, incomplete metamorphoses all are capable of starting with adolescence. However, to truly shift form, whether superficially, partially, or fully, takes learning and practice, and usually teaching as well. Some individuals have more affinity for learning it, like any other topic."
"I take it you did?"
"My father taught me, but... I probably would have figured it out myself eventually anyway. The talent has run strong in both sides of my ancestry. Through history, it has been a steady one-third to two-fifths of men and three-fifths to two-thirds of women learn to master it well enough to use it; but in my family, it ran well over half the men and nearly all the women."
"Why the gender disparity?" Helena asked.
"Various factors have been hypothesized, but no one is really sure. In general, the ability has existed since before written history. Oral traditions that were written down early in history suggest it has been part of Psychon nature as long as there is any history."
"What happens if you are injured while in another form, and revert back?" the doctor asked. "Do you have the injury in the analogous part of your own body, or is it gone?"
"Gone. Except there is a... sympathetic reaction, that I may momentarily feel like I have the same injury. It has to do with taking back some impressions from the creature's mind, or what of my own I had in the form. It isn't real, and fades. Except, if I were to breathe something poisonous, like the... element... trae'rytra gas into a being's lungs, I can momentarily have some residual... in my own... until... I finish the after'shift."
Maya's explanations, which had been much clearer in this meeting than the one aboard Eagle 4, were getting more fragmentary again. Helena would perhaps have to try getting that one again later. So she noted down what she had heard, and moved to another question. "If your own body is hurt, can a transformation heal it when you revert?"
"It does not work that way. My form is my form. If I am hurt, transformation can help me escape the danger and find help for when I revert, for example. It is thought that being metamorphs, even if only nascent metamorphs, does help with healing in a certain way, perhaps a little faster, and probably eliminating the damage a little more... leaving lesser... fainter... scars?... or lessening other after'damage in cases of more severe injuries. But we have -- had -- limited medical knowledge of other races and species, at least that I am aware of. I am not a physicist -- I mean physician."
"I heard about time limits?" Tony asked.
"Correct. Currently 57.1 minutes for my smallest form, and 61.3 for my largest."
"So about an hour," Tony said. "What happens if you don't revert by then."
"It is instinctive to do so."
"Er, so nothing stops it?"
Maya visibly shivered. "Something can prevent it..." she said hesitantly, as if nervous about revealing danger points. She continued a moment later, showing she was willing to take the chance. "If I am in a smaller form, and am trapped in too small a volume for my normal form.... I would be... crushed."
"Crushed? What does that mean?" John asked.
"The reversion would start, but being confined, even if not in a solid containment, the mass would all return into the confined space, I would not be able to reorganize properly. My mass would return in a small, high density biomass incompatible with life. The returning mass would crush the present mass. I would die. Please, if I am in a smaller form, do not trap me past my limit."
"Don't worry, we will keep that in mind," John reassured her. "That is why we are asking these questions, to find out about these things."
"You can't just change into another small form?" Tony asked.
"If the cage isn't too small. It depends." She looked like she was struggling to come up with an explanation, then finally said, "It can be a little complicated."
Tony looked at her. "Once you learn to go animal to animal, consistently, how many transformations like that can you do?"
"It is not unlimited, but the limit varies depending on skill, and the forms chosen. Also, once I go to a very unintelligent form, I will always have to revert to myself, to re-engage my full mind."
"So how is it you know so many Earth animals?" Tony asked.
"Earth'animals?"
"Tony," John said, "we've actually seen a lot of apparent Earth animals on other planets as well."
"Right, forgot about that. But did you see all those on Psychon? Is that how it works, that you have to see them?"
"Them or another metamorph in that form."
"You can learn directly from each other in that way?" John asked.
"Most of the forms I know are from other people demonstrating. Even though I could not learn full transformation until adulthood, and certain very fractional aspects until adolescence, we have the metasense from the beginning of childhood."
"When you were a baby?" John asked.
"Not baby. Childhood. About three or four Earth years. Once we start having more permanent memory."
"Metasense. How does that work?" Helena asked.
"Directly by touch is the easiest way, and for most of childhood the only way. Later, in adolescence, I was able to start sensing at a distance, like 'looking' in a way. That takes more concentration."
"So you have to be in proximity?" John said.
"For the most part, yes. There is a small... trick, though, that allows us to change into similar forms from just a picture, rather than presence. It is called... a superficial transformation, even if the mass changes to a degree. It is not a true transformation, for lack of better terminology, and is not stable. Limits of only a few minutes." She didn't dare mention that she had playfully considered transforming into a superficial version of the Commander, in front of Mentor. She didn't know how he would react to that.
It was only a very short leap from that and other information presented, to Tony getting a troubled look on his face, and saying, "I suppose this all means you can change into us."
She hesitated, but then said, "Yes, but it is not done for... nefarious purposes. It is not something we -- I -- would ever do for ill intent."
Tony looked like he was about to say something, but the Commander cut in. "I accept that."
Maya looked at John, then Tony, then John again. "Thank you, Commander; but I must say something. Please, Tony, I have been resisting the urge to sense your people. I cannot scan minds at all. It does not work that way. It never does. Just brain patterns. There is a difference, a massive one. It may give me a sense of what sort of mental capacity or tendencies, and I understand the being's built-in instincts, but nothing specific or personal regarding higher levels. There are reasons why we might or can turn into other people; it is complicated... there are a lot of rules about what is allowed and forbidden regarding people. Please, if that is the only thing I can actually ask for you to trust me, then I ask for this reason. You don't have to answer now, or ever; but I just wanted to say that."
Tony simply looked at Maya for a few moments, while she held his gaze steadily, and this time did not look away.
He did not seem terribly impressed by her plea, and the silence soon grew awkward, so John changed topics.
They drifted through a few minor questions, then Maya asked more questions about basic moonbase operations, until they moved to the final major topic.
"Maya," John said, "I get the impression you are very technically oriented and enjoy the sciences."
"Oh, yes, anything with circuits, or about science has always been absolutely fascinating. I have been building up devices from partially prepared component sets since I was a young child, building force fields since before adolescence. As I said on the Eagle, I have to admit to the point it frustrated some of my teachers, because I learned that material quickly and thought about it so much I often did not learn some things as well. History, I was always bad at, I have to admit. Scientific and technological aptitude ran in my family as well."
"Are you a tinkerer as well?" Tony asked, recalling her intensity after hearing about the microwave.
"Tinkerer?"
"Uh, like to take things apart to see how they work, or try putting things together differently in hopes of something new."
"Oh, yes, always. I... I even got in trouble for it sometimes -- when I was a young child I mean."
"How long have your people had circuitry?"
"Many thousands of Psychon years, I think."
"What kind of circuitry?"
"Electron-based, ah--"
"That's what we have," Tony said.
"Oh." Well, that verifies my interpretations of the scans of the Eagle'ships, Maya thought. It was disappointing that they did not have more; but technology was technology to some degree. She would happily learn what they had and....
"I know it probably sounds primitive, but--" John started before being interrupted.
"Oh, Commander, I am so sorry, I did not mean to sound disappointed. I love technology. I'll learn your application and have fun too."
"Maya, nothing to apologize for. What else are you familiar with?"
"Well, photonic is the next level, then... ah... I don't know an Alphan word for attryle, or... for yrelicalo, and I doubt you would want yrelor -- bio'yrelicalo -- at all, even if... never mind." She didn't even look up for an answer to that. "There are large gaps between each. Will that be my role here? To work in a laboratory and work towards such technologies, or more powerful electon-based systems, from your current technical base? I would like to help, however I am able."
"Actually--" John started, but Tony's commlock beeped.
"Sorry, must be something urgent," Tony said.
"Mr. Verdeschi, we have a disturbance."
"Where?"
As Commander Koenig listened, he thought about how it was the third such incident recently. Since people had taken smaller quarters, downlevel, there had been more confrontations for petty reasons. Community may have been growing in some ways, but a year of difficulty followed by a reduction in living space for many people, had perhaps put a small damper on that. Getting attacked again probably didn't help. In fact, he was getting the sense it had done some damage to morale.
Tony looked at John. The two had talked after the last incident, and had reached a mutual decision that with the next such incident, that it would make sense for the commander to get involved as well. John nodded, both as a signal for Tony to leave and that John would follow a few minutes later.
"Excuse me, ladies," Tony said. "Other duties call."
Curiously, Maya seemed slightly surprised, and John momentarily realized why. Tony had, absently or not, included her with Helena as one of the ladies.
"Sorry, Maya, Tony and I have to check this out. I think the meeting went well, except for the interruption. I know your last question isn't answered; but rest assured, you will be participating shortly. The officers and I still have to discuss some particulars now that the four of us talked. We will meet with you again, probably tomorrow, and you can ask further questions as well, and we might have a few more. If you have any more immediate questions, please ask Helena. Helena, when you are done, please contact Bokessu."
John left then, for the trouble spot, his thoughts quickly transitioning back to that situation. It was not that Tony couldn't handle the investigation, because he could; nor that Tony couldn't use his authority, because he had no problem with that either. Rather, the commander's silent or not so silent presence would add emphasis that further continuation would not be tolerated -- at the highest levels.
Indeed, as he approached, he could see who was involved in the altercation, and neither looked comfortable being grilled by Verdeschi, and when first one and then the other spotted a displeased Koenig headed their way, their expressions sunk even further.
The two women left in the meeting room looked at each other. Helena found herself already starting to get used to Maya's face. She could also see the Psychon looked relaxed -- or maybe relieved.
"I agree with John," Helena said. "We all had a very good conversation."
"It is good to hear. Thank you for all your responses to my questions also."
"You're very welcome, I am glad you asked." She changed topics. "I am not aware of anything being scheduled for the rest of this part of your day. Are you?"
"No. I will be meeting with Sandra for some computer training and about emergency procedures, for a portion of my second'half. I have 3.2 hours left in First."
"Well, good. Isn't it about your lunch time then?"
"In a little while."
"Good, how about you come to my quarters for awhile, and we can chit-chat and I'll make up some more food you can try."
"Chitchat? Is that talk?"
"Casual conversation."
"If it doesn't take up too much of your time."
"Don't be silly," Helena said with a smile, "I would like to, and I'm off-duty, barring medical emergency. Would you?"
"That sounds wonderful."
"Good."
Helena called Bokessu. It was an irritant to even have to do that, but an armed escort would be on order for the foreseeable future. That did not prevent Helena from stopping a few people in the hallway who she thought wouldn't mind meeting Maya, and indeed, her instincts paid off. Though this was one of Tony's primary duties right now, it was not his alone, and Helena was taking care to observe others' reactions, and would report these to him, in addition to whatever the guard would probably report. With some psychology-related work in her past, she was plenty able to do this well.
They reached Helena's quarters, and the guard went on his way. Helena had noticed Maya had little in the way of small talk skills, or at least none that she was using or knew how to use with humans, so the greetings with those others had not lasted long. That was understandable: there was little common context yet. Maybe Helena should have introduced a simple topic or two. Well, 'the weather' is out of the question.
To start some casual conversation now, though, Helena brought up simple topics. Maya's quarters. This evoked some enthusiastic responses about pictures, a jewelry box, beautiful plants in pretty vases, and, curiously enough, something about the 'extra' chairs in the rooms. Poor gal wonders if she'll ever get visitors? With a little prodding, Maya talked about her neighbors, again mentioning Sally calling in. Not surprisingly, Maya still did not want to discuss the nightmare. Helena had seen the elevated readings at 08:35, and had been about two seconds from calling Maya when the readings had subsided quickly. Earlier, she had already told Maya of the observation, but the woman had refused to talk about it.
Maya mentioned the 'highly generous gift' of the small box of hair-related supplies, the impression from that obviously lasting, as well as some other small gestures of welcoming.
It seemed the poor Psychon had set her expectations very low. That was understandable, though, and that did provide a few benefits: that Maya would not be too disappointed when she got bad signs, that she would be very welcoming of positive signs, and probably patient with neutral or mixed signs, all of which would probably help her. Her humble approach would be a good start, and provide a way of charm to people too used to Alphans being treated as dirt under the heels of some of the aliens. Yet in Maya's gratitude, it also seemed clear she was glad some Alphans were not treating her like dirt.
No, Helena was not about to try modifying Maya's approach, which consciously or unconsciously -- or both -- was probably the best approach she could have taken. However, Helena would, where it was appropriate, encourage Maya to take small steps where she was unnecessarily holding back.
Helena started preparing some food, while Maya watched with interest as Helena gave instructions. In between steps, Maya started asking some questions about day to day life.
"How often do people eat in their quarters?"
"It varies by person, even varies over time depending on various factors. Eating cafeteria or restaurant style can save most individuals some time, and provide opportunity to relax, but some people find occasionally or more frequently preparing their own food to be relaxing. It is a matter of balance for each person, varying as needed."
"What is a restaurant?"
"You've seen cafeteria style?"
"I am not sure I understand the exact definitions or difference."
"Cafeteria style is where food is served from one part of the room.... Each person goes through a line, makes selections, and, ah, carries it back oneself."
"That is what I saw. Except Sandra obtained food for me and Tony."
"Then she was doing a favor for you and Tony, I imagine. The trick for the cooks is to prepare enough to feed those who may show up, but not so much that we have too many leftovers, which can only be presented again so many times, depending on the food, before it has to be recycled. So some leftovers may appear again the next day, maybe in another cafeteria, and the rest is frozen for individuals to take out of easily-accessible freezers, and back to quarters. There is a system."
"That sounds efficient."
"You can also request fresh supplies to take to your room, to prepare yourself. There is a limit of one item per day, and it is recorded, for inventory purposes, and to enforce the limit. Frozen leftovers, you can take at any time. So there are two ways to start filling up your food station: leftovers, and requests. However, while it is certainly fine to have some quiet meals in your quarters sometimes, I would recommend you avail yourself of opportunities to eat with people you trust."
"That is all very informative."
Helena focused on her preparations for a bit, until Maya quietly said, "Sorry to interrupt, but what about restaurant?"
"Oh, my mistake. And you weren't interrupting. A restaurant is a sit-down arrangement, where there is a menu at the table and you make selections with someone who comes out to take your order. Then your food is personally prepared. This is somewhat more labor intensive, but there are no unselected leftovers for the cooks. Plus, people enjoy that arrangement. Are these both familiar?"
"Both forms are recognizable, but these and variant forms were differentiated by integrated adjective over base root word."
Helena wasn't sure what 'integrated adjective' meant, and Maya's whole sentence sounded vaguely more mathematical than linguistic. "The term 'Restaurant' appears on some base charts, but they were always dual-use, and were usually cafeteria style, and after Breakaway, completely so, until one chef sought to institute Sit-Down Saturdays and Sundays in his cafeteria a couple months ago, and another has indicated a desire to do the same in hers. We've even had people volunteering to be wait staff -- the ones who take the orders and bring the food out -- on every few occasions, so that it works but they still get to enjoy the other side of it too. Those two chefs are starting with various fare; but with one being French and one Italian, we could eventually end up with French Fridays and Italian Tuesdays or something, if we're lucky."
"Mmm," Maya said, obviously not getting the humor.
Finally, it was time to eat. Conversation covered a few more day-to-day topics, with Maya sometimes asking general questions, then eventually asking a few superficially personal questions.
Helena brought up the topic of weekends, and was happy to catch Maya in a more relaxed, less professional response, that Psychons had similar downtimes. "We call them weekends here on Alpha. It does not always work out that someone gets a full two days each week, but we try, since people do need some downtime, as some call it. Not everyone is scheduled to have Saturday and Sunday as their own weekend, though, because some duty stations require someone to be present at all times. We'll have to figure out where to place your weekends later."
As the meal wound down, Helena realized how long it had been since she just had a simple meal with another woman, instead of with a larger group, John, or alone. That it was with an alien hardly mattered most of the time, except for the occasional odd phrasing from Maya, or Helena needing to explain something in detail that any other adult Alphan understood with a word or two -- or needing to work harder bringing up subjects. Sometimes, it struck her as the oddest thing, to look up and see Maya as an alien and thinking of how a year ago she couldn't have imagined sharing a meal with a being from an entirely different planet -- and be thinking of her as simply another woman through most of the meal. Maybe it was a year's worth of encounters with aliens, or fully realizing that her life was out among the stars now, or just the reserves of calm she could often draw on, or the calm yet warm personality Maya seemed to have. Most likely, it was all of that.
Maya, for her part, seemed to be trying her best. It struck Helena that this individual alien seemed to be a social creature at heart, someone who wanted to be with other people, but who had only one other contact for years, and was out of practice in dealing with larger groups. In some ways, she was doing surprisingly well, but Helena had seen her more relaxed right now, clearly relieved the meeting had gone well, and probably more comfortable dealing with one human at a time for now.
Helena knew that it would be good for Maya to deal with larger groups, though, and had already seen promising signs of that, especially in MCU-4, where except for being jittery over almost every commlock beep -- and Bill's camera's flashbulb -- Maya had generally been calm. Or numb, Helena recalled. She wasn't sure which. The jitteriness surely came from a lot of factors. Maya's obviously horrible nightmare, Tony's ever-watchful gaze, the number of people, and how all of them were alien to Maya. All the strange sounds and other sensations. It had, after all, been only a short time after poor Maya had not just figuratively had her world turned upside down, but her entire world literally destroyed.
That she could even carry on coherent and friendly -- if somewhat timid sometimes -- conversations at all was a good start. That she was even pleasant company was also promising.
"Maya, I had a wonderful time this evening."
"You did?" Maya said, sounding surprised.
This time, Helena let herself laugh. "Of course! You were wonderful company."
"I was?" Maya said, but this time with more of a smile of appreciation than look of surprise.
"Yes, you were. We must do this again sometime, soon."
"Yes, I had fun, and you were wonderful company. We should."
"Good. Now--"
Helena's door beeped. Much to Helena's delight, Maya did not flinch. It was another sign of progress, or at least that Maya was temporarily more relaxed.
Helena discovered it was John, and let him in.
He seemed clearly surprised to find Maya there, but the three of them got to talking, eventually him and Maya doing the most, Helena eventually, purposefully, fading into the background, clearing the dishes and cleaning them, to let them talk.
"I am sorry it took so long before we talked again," John eventually said.
"No need to apologize," Maya stated. "I realize you have a lot to do, especially after... everything. How is your wrist?"
"It is healing just fine."
"That is good. I am so sorry that-"
"Please, Maya, don't apologize for that; you were trying to save your father, and I understand that."
Maya paused, then said, "Commander, I want to thank you for the welcome you extended me, that members of your city have shown me so far."
"How has Tony been treating you so far? Honest answer."
She paused, and said, "I think he is still... nervous about me, but he is First Security Officer, and I understand that."
"First Officer, and Security Officer. He has two main duty roles."
"Oh, I understand now."
"You were saying...?"
She described her observations of how he was looking out for her safety at all times, was engaging in conversation, and was indeed giving her a chance, and that she trusted him, even if he was reserving his full trust of her.
John found it was perceptive. Despite reports she was jittery around a lot of others, and had trouble interpreting them sometimes, she had spent a lot of time around Tony, and her perceptions of him seemed spot on, as well as reassuring.
R-346 DAB 2100-2300: Overlooked Arc
Douglas sighed, staring at the equations. The problem with the telescope tracking started to feel more and more wrong. It was not an inaccuracy in calculating rotational rate. Though each calculation yielded a slightly different number due to the problem establishing a constant reference point, two retries had resulted in very similar numbers that simply did not explain the problem.
He was back at the telescope, checking how far off it was now looking at Psychon's star -- they were already too far away to resolve any of its surviving planets. With the tracking problems, they had lost sight of Psychon's moon and not been able to visually recover it, and now they were well beyond range, having crossed the Space-Normal Boundary and gone translight again.
He looked again at the wall of the room, at the picture of Psychon's moon, bereft of its parent planet, wounded with a huge crater. Bereft of Psychon. Its course changed. Its moon had been let loose. But what about our own Moon, Luna. Luna had been-- Douglas slapped his forehead. "Ack, I am daft. Completely daft." Luna was traveling past Psychon much faster than Psychon's own moon, but still, the loss of Psychon's gravity hadn't just affected its moon, but Luna as well. It was so blindingly simple. "I should be confined to quarters for missing this one."
It was standard procedure to wait for the Science Advisor to request another course calculation before beginning that complex, time-consuming, and Computer-consuming procedure, given their strange travel through space. After losing two Science Advisors, however, this detail had been lost track of as well, it seemed. It was still no excuse for Douglas to have missed thinking of it. That calculation was usually only run only occasionally, when far enough in a system to detect all its planets, determine their orbits, and thus need to adjust the course calculations accordingly -- or upon meeting other unexpectedly course-changing phenomena in space. Only a few other cases of long-term course recalculation had arisen: after the Black Sun, after the first space warp, after "touching" planet Atheria (a.k.a. Aestheria due to one of the official reports having this as a name instead), and after the Moon had been wrenched about in a few other encounters, and two other incidents. No one had felt the Moon altering course after Psychon's destruction; it was more subtle -- a minor course change.
It wasn't a major problem; but still, Douglas knew he should have thought of it. He decided this needed to be started, immediately.
F-347 DAB 0000-0330: Third Shift
It was midnight, the start of Terran "third shift" and on this particular day, only an hour into Psychon "second half" when Sandra and Maya met up, Bokessu having brought the latter to Command Center, but Sandra saying the guard should remain with them.
"I was going to start with Computer-related discussion, but I thought the timing would be good to talk about emergency procedures, which for tonight will mean taking you to a few parts of Alpha to show you some of what I mean. Third shift is the quietest time, and I thought that would be good timing."
"Why is that so? There is no sunset here, yet you turn lights down in some sections."
"It is a holdover from Earth. The vast majority of people work first shift jobs, and that never really changed here. I think it is a social tendency too."
Sandra talked about deep shelters, evacuation procedures, decompression procedures, where to seek medical help from, how to call on help, when to use travel tubes and lifts and when to shun them, and a variety of other situations, as the three of them moved among the selected points on Alpha. Indeed, they ran across only few people, and the guard, like Tony, kept an eye out, allowing Maya to concentrate on the lessons.
Sandra, cognizant of when Maya usually ate supper, eventually brought Maya to Sandra's quarters. There was a single all-night Cafeteria, but this seemed nicer, and allowed the guard a break as well. Neither woman was all that interested in small talk, so conversation mostly stayed on professional manners, but in a more casual tone, which suited both of them well. Though it was one of Maya's two larger meals, and Sandra served her a fair amount, Sandra was not all that hungry, and served herself little, it was Sandra doing most of the talking, so they still finished at nearly the same time.
It wasn't that long before Sandra was interrupted by one of the guards on night duty calling in, indicating he had noticed one of the water recycling plants was leaking water again, from a non-visible spot. Sandra would have to awaken a number of technical people, and would have to supervise both clean-up and repair, the latter due to her having some Technical Section oversight duties. For a moment, Sandra considered bringing Maya along, but she quickly dismissed it as an inappropriate situation. She issued some initial instructions, contacted/awoke two department heads, then turned to Maya.
"Sorry, Maya, no Computer training tonight. Follow me, though, I can make a quick stop in one of the libraries to find you a binder with more procedures in it. Many of these are stored in the computer, but some records were lost and not yet retyped, and you may find this easier to read anyway."
Once there, it was only a matter of seconds before Sandra found the binder, handed it to Maya, and left with brief parting words.
It was seconds after Sandra left that Bokessu pointed out something. "Do you want to stay here, Maya?" Sandra had not told Maya where to go next. She looked about the library, her curiosity begging for exploration. Yet she had her next task in hand, and while it appeared she could settle in the library to read, for there were very plush, comfortable-looking chairs, she realized that meant keeping the guard on duty longer. So she made up her mind. "No, please take me to my quarters. I will read there."
F-347 DAB 0800-1000: Science Advisor Maya
It was late in Maya's day and first thing on the first shift, when the officers gathered for another meeting. It started with a status report but moved to the main topic, about the Commander's intention to make Maya the Science Advisor. Two of the officers, Helena Russell and Tony Verdeschi, had already heard and had a chance to discuss it. Now it was presented to Alan Carter and Sandra Benes.
The latter seemed alert; but to the familiar eye, fatigue was visible in Sandra, for she had taken a late shift, including over a minor issue with a critical system that was now resolved. After this meeting, she was to go off duty for the rest of the day.
Alan, on the other hand, had just gotten on duty, and looked ready to challenge the day.
Both took the Science Advisor idea in stride, though not without some concerns, mostly over how well others would accept it, or whether waiting until after the weekend might give a little more time for the idea of Maya being resident to settle in before announcing her being science advisor.
However, the pros of waiting a little didn't seem significant enough to the group as a whole. Alan mentioned some might see Maya getting a job assignment as a sign she would have a job like everyone else. It was difficult to say whether that would be much of a benefit, but in the end, the two remaining officers agreed with the decision.
Tony went to bring Maya to the meeting, while a couple additional status items were mulled over.
"Good morning," Maya said with a smile when she came in with Tony, apparently knowing full well what part of the Alphan standard day it was and using a greeting for it. Maya was learning fast. Everyone gave greetings concurrently, and Maya seemed fairly relaxed as she took the offered seat.
"In terms of continuing yesterday's meeting," John started, "I think we were done with what we needed to ask you for now. Did you have any further questions?"
"I asked my immediate questions. I am sure I'll have additional in other contexts."
"Okay, very good. Based on our discussion, we intend to arrange a series of two- to four-hour sessions with various technical and scientific personnel. That you have a different schedule sort of works in favor of these meetings, because some people we'll probably have you talk with likely work second or third shift. There will be probably two of these each of your days, maybe three on occasion. None on weekends, usually. Has anyone mentioned weekends?"
"Yes, Helena explained," Maya answered.
"The discussions will be mutual in both directions, you getting to know us and our technology better, and us getting to know you better and hearing any thoughts you have. Two-way street, sort of like what we had in the meeting yesterday, but with more detail."
"That sounds wonderful," she said with another moderate yet very genuine smile. He thought he could detect the enthusiasm that was there. That she could go through so much yet have this, was remarkable, and welcome to see.
"To that end, the most appropriate position for now would be Science Advisor."
Though her eyebrows went up a little, she looked very happy as well.
To Maya, the idea of the discussion sessions sounded logical, but the title was a surprise, especially when the Commander told her this was the same title Victor Bergman and Lew Picard had each had. The latter had been killed by her own father.
"I know that may be a surprise and a concern," the Commander said, "but the title describes the intention, and be assured that if any problems come up, we will deal with them."
"I understand." She had expected a lot more questioning before they decided a specific role, and as she heard a further outline, she was surprised it would not be a purely laboratory work either. It seemed a delightful mix, and despite her concerns, she was interested, and finally just stated such, simply: "I accept it, and thank you."
The Commander stood up, followed by the rest and Maya too. He walked over to her, and said, "Then as of this moment, Maya, you are officially assigned to the role of Science Advisor." He offered his hand, and they shook. Maya smiled, and so did he, and then everyone else, except Tony until she looked his way directly.
Still, it was a good way to end her day.
Right after the meeting, John quietly tapped out an electronic post.
Official Command Announcement
347 D.A.B. 09:40
All Personnel, Alpha Moonbase:
As of 09:00 today, Maya has been posted to Technical Section as Science Advisor of Moonbase Alpha.
After some discussion, it has become evident that she has expertise in various technical and scientific fields, and wishes to help in whatever ways she can. Large gaps in terminology and details remain, so she needs training in our state of current expertise, such as terminology, current theory, equipment, and practices.
A series of professional discussions will be set up with various Technical Section department and team leaders, and possibly others within the section or other sections. These are not just intended to be just one-way training. I strongly encourage a two-way discussion, to learn from each other.
While this is ongoing, and we mutually find out in more detail where Maya's deepest strengths are, the Science Advisor role has been determined to be a suitable title.
At this point, the role will be advisory in nature and may soon be research, development, and/or support as well. Leadership of Technical Section will remain split among the officers for the foreseeable future, as discussed in prior announcements. Research and related efforts will be partially overseen by a temporary Science Board yet to be formed. Further details on this and who they report to will be forthcoming. The new Science Officer role will remain open for the time being.
If you have any questions or concerns, please contact me or an officer.
He reviewed it. It was multi-page on the monitor, but would be a one page printout, and he suspected it would be printed out a lot, as it would probably become very controversial. He sent the post. It was time for Alpha to start learning to adapt in yet another way.
F-347 DAB 1530-1700: Thoughts of the Rage
It was Ray Torens, a mere husk, a walking form with almost no mind, grabbing Maya's arms and pushing her forward, out of the pits. He said nothing as she pleaded her innocence. The orange door opened onto a new, blue-colored hallway which was a dream distortion of the already nightmarish Alk^inharda Complex, the blue giants glinting at her from the walls. Torens did not listen to her pleas as he forced her down the corridor, until she was staring at the raging dark heart of the Alk^inharda. Torens pushed her into the end'space.
Maya screamed herself awake. There was no call from Sally or anyone else this time. Her neighbors were probably working.
The Alk^inharda. Of all the nightmares, why that? It was so far from Psychon, further than she had ever flown in a star'ship. It was nightmarish, and her mind provided an image of something almost without form, where even equations broke down in the wake of ancient anger.
Is that what she deserved? To be torn apart in anger? The Alphans seemed to have mixed feelings about her, some looking hostile, but to that degree?
Dream recovery. She wasn't used to having nightmares, though she had started slowly having more over the last couple of years. She had not understood why, assuming it was simply from confinement in the caverns and/or the unpredictable fate of her world; but in retrospect, was now wondering if she was unconsciously wondering about her father.
Mentor had taught her the metamorphic game of association, a powerful method of mental association to recover, among other things, the equally associative, metamorphic memory fragments comprising dreams. Psychons didn't bother much with dreams, most of the time. They were just the mind's way of processing immense amounts of data to remember as much as possible, and to discard the excess. Sometimes, though, the troubled mind would not readily reveal its reasons.
She had no one to play the game with anymore, and it required two people. To metamorphs used to physical transformation of themselves or those around them, there was something simple and powerful about a game relying on fast-shifting words bringing out fast-shifting dream imagery, much of which could involve images of beings transforming and things transformed. It seemed far too uniquely Psychon of a technique for the Alphans to understand, and she did not to scare them. No, no strange games. Her nightmares now had obvious enough causes. All the horrors she had seen and heard in such a brief period of time at the end of Psychon. The husks in the pits, the truth of the Commander's words, her father blasting away at the Alphan base, Mentor's last words and his dying scream, the pits again, the spaceship graveyard, the feeling of her own planet shaking under her feet, and its dying explosions battering the alien spacecraft. Being marooned among the attacked aliens, who had mixed opinions about her.
She shook her head and pushed the images aside, while still wondering why her mind took all that and now saw fit to randomly add in the Alk^inharda. Too awake to go back to bed, even with two hours left in her scheduled sleep period, she decided to get ready from the day, but being busy did nothing to get her away from her mind's made-up image of the Rage at the heart of the Alk^inharda.
Fifteen minutes later, in a uniform and drying her hair, she was thinking of it again. They were so many light'years away, on an alien planetoid that was just the right size to gather itself the largest possible hyperspatial bubble -- even larger than even the equations implied it should have -- and flit....
Maya's breath caught. She thought of the former course of the Moon, which she had analyzed back on Psychon. Now she corrected it for its destruction, and extrapolated its hyperspatial travels.
The Alk^inharda.
Not enough variables. Try with more. Halfstar. Worse. Add in Redsun and its gas'planets. The calculations took longer. Deceptive gap. The Alphans might think.... Add the smaller inner planets. More variables, starting to be too many. Where was the paper and the writing'... the pen? The desk. She drew a quick and very simplified diagram, and made sure she calculated each starting array correctly. She ran the initial arrayed ellipticals in her mind, jotted a few intermediate dimensionals, then thought through the final equations across all. Worse. Of all the places....
Her dream wasn't metaphorical, metamorphic, or a game of any kind. It was almost as literal as they got. The Alk^inharda. It seemed she was going to have to convey something very alien to them anyway. Alien legends. The truth of their new course.
It was a sudden meeting, of John Koenig, Tony Verdeschi, Alan Carter, and Douglas McLeod. The meeting was called by the last, and the first was not pleased.
Koenig was already in a foul mood because word was already starting to filter up the chain of command that the response to making Maya the Science Advisor was decidedly "mixed" -- which implied a fair amount of disapproval. The latter had been expected to some degree; but the added concern was that usually such rumors did not spread upwards so quickly, so that was a troubling sign.
This meeting, though about an unrelated topic, was not helping his temper. "It's four days after Psychon's destruction; I know the long-term course calculation takes awhile, but not this long," the commander said to the astrophysicist.
"Sorry, Commander, we'd never encountered an exploding planet, and no one thought of all the consequences, and no one asked us to recalculate either -- but that is no excuse for me taking so long to think of it myself."
Koenig had to admit to himself that McLeod was right, that no officer had thought to follow up on it. Koenig himself should have, given his original background, but had assumed it was still start of standard procedure. Failing that, Victor had never failed to catch such scientific slip-ups if Koenig was dealing with many priorities. Victor was gone, though, and the man John had hoped would fill the new Science Officer role sometime soon had died on his first mission: Lew Picard. Too many losses, and some breakdowns in procedures were inevitable -- though distinctly unwanted. John decided to move on for the moment. "Fine, you were saying we're not slipping to the right of this huge nebula and star concentration fifty days ahead of us. Assuming we don't get sucked into another space warp or have the Moon wrenched by something we're not seeing now, what is the Moon going to do?"
"With the loss of Psychon's gravity as we left that area, we are now headed further to the 'left', and will first encounter a weak star about halfway there. Instead of missing that system, we'll skirt through its outer range. We've only detected one small gas giant, and we'll be about ten times further out than it."
"But we'll still get more of a slingshot from that star than we were expecting?" Alan asked.
"Right. Or I should say yet further 'left' in how we're charting this. It will slingshot us even further to the left."
"Straight into the field of blue giants?" John asked.
Almost. We'd encounter an orange-red star that stands somewhat in 'front' of the cluster of nebula and stars, by a few dozen light-years. The nebula is not so much a concern as the bluish stars are. They are large, young, very intense stars. In fact, they must be very young for them to be so close to the nebula and not have dispersed that, unless something else we don't know about is sustaining the nebula."
"How close are we going to get to the blue giants?" John asked, knowing the danger they posed.
"Well, given what now appears will be an approach of 155±30 million kilometers from the red-orange star, we've actually gotten a little lucky."
"How so?" Tony asked.
There is a gap among the blue stars, wide enough we can slip through without any radiation worries. With shields, that is."
"Are you certain?" Tony asked the question John did not have to.
"Well, given our current information, yes; but given our current distance, no. At this distance, and for most of the way there, we can only detect the second star's gas giants. We found five of them. I've been intending to check with you about talking to Maya about whether she knows anything about this particular star system -- though unless she knows current planetary positions, I am not sure how much benefit that would be. Still, it would be useful to see if she does."
"How would she know current planetary positions?" Tony asked, dubiously.
"You never know," John said. "What would she be doing now?"
After only the briefest of pauses, Tony said, "Sleeping." He then retrieved the schedule card from one of his pockets. "For another couple of hours."
"Okay, leave her be for now. What about the nebula? Even if we hit the gap among the blue stars, what are the dangers?" He asked his questions more for the benefit of Alan and especially Tony. The astrophysicist knew of Koenig's own astrophysics background.
"Most nebulas themselves are just widely-spaced dust, but there can be more to some of them. The real problem is that it can block our view of what might be behind them. Forming stars, forming planets, white drawf stars, any number of things. Maybe Maya will know at least that, because the nebula spanned about sixteen degrees from Psychon, surely catching their attention or maybe even close-up exploration."
They continued discussing smaller and smaller points, until the commander's commlock beeped.
The miniature monitor filled with Maya's face, surprising him a bit, for it was the first time she had called him. She looked a little anxious, though.
"Commander?" Her tone also sounded a bit anxious.
"Yes, Maya?" he asked, glancing up to Tony for a brief moment.
"Please forgive the interruption, Commander."
"Nothing to forgive; the commlock is meant for communication."
She did not respond directly to his point, instead saying, "Could I please meet with you... as soon as possible," she said, adding the last part almost timidly. It was sad, really, how afraid she was. Understandable, and perhaps best for the moment, so others would feel less threatened, but he hoped she would recover.
He did not ask her on what she was asking to meet for, for he had a feeling what, and did want to be accommodating even if he was wrong.
"Of course. Tony will send someone immediately."
"Thank you," Maya said, before they mutually broke the connection.
Tony retrieved his commlock. "Bokessu, report to Maya's quarters and bring her to Meeting Room CC."
"Yes, sir."
Alan looked around the table. "Not sure I liked the tone of Maya's voice," Alan said. "You think she knows which direction we're heading?"
"I think so," John said.
"Even if she doesn't know exactly..." the astrophysicist started, "I have to agree that I did not like the sound of that. She probably does know something we won't like."
John was half-tempted to say it, but Alan ended up saying much the same thing: "So what else is new."
A few minutes later, Maya walked in with Bokessu, an anxious look on her face, then a surprised look, as she pulled to a stop two steps in, clearly not having expected more than the Commander and Tony, much less Alan and a stranger.
Douglas stood up and approached, while Maya stayed put but showed a slight smile and slight tension in her body. John noticed how it was vastly different than how Maya had greeted him after they were past the lioness part. She had been calm and confident then. This Maya looked insecure, offering up an open expression but looking a microsecond from either losing the smile or it growing depending on the other's reaction to her. She was still on edge, and probably would be for awhile. He hoped she would regain some strength even before all the first greetings were finished. A very humble approach suited her at this point, but a little more confidence would be good too.
"Maya, this is Douglas McLeod. Douglas, this is Maya."
"It is good to meet you," Maya said.
"Charmed," Douglas said, extending his hand, and accepting Maya's for a brief handshake, Maya shifting a small piece of paper from one hand to another to do so, and clearly having no idea how to respond to his choice of word.
The immediate greeting done, there was brief silence as they both went to sit down. John was about to ask her what had her awake well before her schedule, when she lurched the conversation past all small talk herself.
"Have you rechecked your course since...?" She could not bring herself to put the last in words.
"Yes, we did," he jumped in, knowing she was referring to Psychon, "and we seem to be taking a good course, but...." He was about to add about their own uncertainty, but her anxious look grew more intense, so deciding to get her to say whatever was on her mind, he simply asked, "What is it? What woke you up so early?"
"I woke up with a nightmare, not about... usual... things, but something completely different, and it made me to think through your course, adjusting for the... change, and realized you are heading for the Alk^inharda."
"Alk...?" He started, before stumbling over the subtle and pleasant but distinctly alien sound combination injected into the middle of the word, then taking a different course. "The blue giant stars standing in front of the nebula?"
"No, those are... whimsically called the Alk^inharda... Shepherds by many spacefaring races. They are a cluster of hot, energetic stars no one approaches except in very heavily-shielded star'ships--"
"We already determined we are going to slip through a gap among them, even with the swingby within the inner star system of a orange-red star about most of the way there."
"Your closest approach to Redsun will be 143 million kilometers, but that-"
"Exactly 143 million?" Douglas asked.
"I am sorry. 143±2 million. To be more precise I would need to use your computers--"
Douglas looked incredulously at her. "You calculated 143±2 million kilometers without the computer when the best we got from it was 155±30 million?"
"Oh... I... ah..." she looked down shyly, as if realizing she may have just insulted them or their technology or something, and not sure how to answer his question diplomatically, "am good with mathematics."
"And with understatement," McLeod said. "Can I see that?" he asked, pointing to her small sheet of paper. She looked at him briefly, then slid over the sheet. None of the others said anything, letting McLeod talk to Maya a little. The scrawlings made very little more sense up close than at a distance, but the path lines did look recognizable, as did a diagram of a star system. At the top there was a line of characters created from short lines, longer lines, dots, and circles; but elsewhere, there were more complex scrawlings, each pointing to a planet or something. "We picked up five gas giants. How many inner planets are there?"
She looked surprised by the question, blurting "You can't detect the smaller planets from--" before she cut herself off and said, "Sorry."
Though McLeod looked a little put off by her comment, he seemed to stow it, and said, fairly evenly, "No need, we simply don't have the detection capability."
"Oh." She paused, then answered the original question. "Four rocky inner planets, five gas giants, two planetoids about the Moon's size beyond the giants."
"Just how many variables did you consider in your... calculation."
Maya described what she called her "hasty" process of adding more and more variables, until she reached sixteen.
"Sixteen variables. And that's what you wrote?" Douglas asked.
"I had to start writing a few intermediates in this case. Usually I do not."
A laugh burst from McLeod, both for what she had just described being able to do, and for the amusement of her completely missing his point, that it was not how much she thought she had to write, but how little she actually had. "Damn, Commander, I think we just found our backup computer."
"Backup?" Alan, silent for awhile, said. "Just make her the primary. Heck, I'll take her along on any Eagle flight."
Maya looked back and fourth, blushing some but having no hypothesis on how to respond to it, until John finally gave her one, while trying not to diminsh the compliments included.
"Maya, they are exaggerating a little for humor. There is a lot Main Computer can do processing information from various sensors, but at least for astrophysical math calculations, you seem to have it beat."
The same shy half-smile, then: "I did not mean to insult your technology."
Damn, John thought, I wish she would stop doing that so much, especially among no one that is trying to give her grief at the moment. "Maya, there is nothing to apologize for. Let's get back to the Al... what did you call it?"
"Alk^inharda."
They all tried pronouncing it, and all four humans eventually ended up with: "Alkinarda."
"That is fine," Maya said. "Now you have made an Alphan pronunciation of the Psychon version of the name. Ali... nada. Alikiada. Al--"
John, seeing she was just trying to align with the Alphans, but wanting to cut her off from going overboard on a tiny point, was about to jump in, when Tony did.
"Why don't you just call it by the Psychon name, and we'll call it by the Alphan name," Tony said, a bit brusquely. "We'll both know what each other means."
"Maya?" Alan asked. "You said the 'Psychon version of the name.' Was it a translation?"
"Yes, it is a Psychon fused contraction of a non-Psychon phrase, Aldinark^ Intar Hartrakonzk Daspa, meaning... Deep'torn Space of the Giants' Fury."
The humans looked at each other.
"Definitely not an encouraging phrase," Tony said, seriously.
"Giants' Fury," McLeod started. "A reference to the blue giants?"
"No, to two legendary peoples who, before Psychon's written history, fought a war in this and surrounding areas."
"Why don't you redraw part of your diagram," Douglas said, handing her a dry-erase marker that had been absently left on the table from a prior meeting. She looked at it, took off its cap, and looked at its wide tip dubiously, so he added, "for a whiteboard."
She looked at the table. It was mostly white, and could be considered a board in a very distant way. Was she supposed to write on the table?
"Uh, behind you," he said.
Looking around, she spotted the board immediately, thanked him, got up and went over to it, and immediately started drawing. One "star" with an eight-pointed "asterisk," then another across the board, a bunch of neat little circles for planets, and several courses, only one of which she discussed, describing how their new course through first the outer edge of what she called, rather nondescriptly, the Halfstar system, then the inner solar system of what she had called, just as nondescriptly, Redsun, would put them close to "an ancient planet that will bend your -- our -- course further to the left, into the field of giants."
"Yet you drew a smaller gap right there," John pointed out. "Is that a real gap?"
"Yes, but smaller, as you said. The radiation from the stars--"
"We do have force fields, some thicker bulkheads, and shelters."
"That may be survivable, but not the Alk^inharda itself."
"What is the Alkinarda?" Tony finally asked. "Like a black sun?"
"Black sun?"
"Black hole."
"I don't understand."
John jumped in and described it, and when he used the word singularity and some details about such, she immediately said, "Maybe... like one. Different, but not totally dissimilar."
"We survived passage through one of those."
"Oh?" she said, looking utterly shocked.
"We're still not sure how, but we were left with some impressions, things we cannot quite remember, but...." As always, it teased at the edge of the mind....
"That was a singularity, though. This is a tear, a massive rip. I am not sure I know enough of your physics terminology to--"
"You said it was a singularity, though."
"Like one. Yet different."
"Still--"
"Commander, no one dares venture into the heart of the Alk^inharda. Even the Giants -- the people called that by some cultures in this area -- were said to use this as a battleground or as a weapon. No one is sure what that means. My historical knowledge is poor; but there are legends, ancient poems, describing some of this, and a way of passing through the Alk^inharda, since it spans a few hundred light'years in diameter."
"A passage?" Tony said. "To where?"
"The other side."
Tony chuckled, then said, "How? I mean where is this found?"
"The planet... the Moon will approach. It is an ancient world, of one of the Giants, who were called, in mythic terms, the Star'movers."
"Star Movers," Tony said, with a slight guffaw. "Who were they warring against?"
"The Star'makers. These are just mythical terms. No one is sure why they were called that; but I know their own real names are long lost to history."
"So what about the passage?" John asked.
"It is called the Alk^inharda Bridge, though people who have gone through it say it is better called a tunnel. But the word Bridge is used because the poems refer to that."
"So...?" Alan asked, getting a little impatient himself.
"I don't know how the Bridge is accessed. It is said that the poems contain the information, but it is all highly metaphorical, and Psychons avoided that region." She wondered if a Psychon ship or two might have headed in that direction during the evacuations some years before; but she had no data on that possibility.
"Do you know the poems?"
"I learned them a long time ago, and it will take me awhile to remember most of them. I only know one readily. It is not the first of the cluster, but it is the most well known."
"Please," John said, waving at the board she was still standing near.
She walked the couple of steps back to it, and away from her diagram, drew two slanting lines at seemingly very precise angles, and slowly wrote lines of English text between the lines, with precision. One by one, the four men stood up and approached. She finished, and erased the two lines, and a neatly arranged poem remained, with a precise shape, and very precise words that John suddenly had a feeling would dominate the next fifty days.
[End of first part]
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