Homesick

“Did he damage the window?” Sally asked, guiding Anderson back to the bed, blotting blood from his chest with the discarded sheet.

“I don’t think so, but he might have done,” Ian said, carefully feeling the surface of the glass. “It doesn’t look like he got through the inner layer.”

“He’s mad!” Vlad said.

“You think?” Sally shot back.

“He has demon!”

“I thought your people didn’t believe in demons.”

“I thought, too.”

“Thanks for triggering the alarm, Vlad,” Ian said, clapping him on the back as he rose from the window.

“You are sure it isn’t cracked?” Vlad asked, inching for the door.

“Not seriously, at least not that I can see, but I’ll have to check it with the integrity meter to make certain. They’re pretty tough, though. They’re rated to take a small meteor impact, but the specs are different for the inside. Good thing you got here. You must have some ears to hear him from across the ship!”

Vlad was grateful Ian didn’t pursue the matter. Instead, he hovered behind Sally and Anderson.

“How bad?”

“He made a mess of my stitches and lost more blood, but I don’t think it’s anything I can’t manage. I should have been watching him!”

Ian reflected for a moment. “We’ll have to keep him guarded until we find out what’s wrong with him. Take turns or something.”

“Ian, can you modify one of the spacesuits to act as a restraint? You know, tie the arms in back like . . . well, like a . . .”

“Straight jacket?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

She turned to Vlad. “He tried to talk to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but it was nonsense!” Vlad twirled his finger at his head. “He babbled like mad dog!”

“He’s speaking another language,” Sally corrected. “And we need to learn it fast! Our translators have some of it, but that won’t help him understand us.”

“But he is American. He knows English.”

“Not anymore,” Sally said, more to herself than Vlad. “His mind has been severely compromised.”

“He forgets his language?” Vlad cocked his head and squinted.

Sally regarded him coldly, as if talking to a spoiled child. “He didn’t understand us on the planet and I’m sure he didn’t understand you just now, so yes I think that’s a fair assumption. And, if that’s true, his translator won’t be doing him any good even if it’s working. I need you to get into his chip and do a status report. Take the portable language units Ian and I were carrying and use that data to create some kind of two-way interface between him and us.”

Vlad looked confused.

“Pretend he’s Chinese or something, but has the wrong implant. Scrub the English and set it to active coding. It may take time, but he should be able to build the vocabulary and syntax. Make it sharable with our internals so we can have access to whatever it knows. If we’re lucky, we should be able to get some answers out of him!”

Vlad nodded. He pulled out his hand-held and keyed in some tentative commands.

“Wait, Vlad,” she said, seeing Ian already leaving the room on his errand. “Before you do that, I’ll need you to help me get him back to the infirmary. We’ll also want to seal this room until Ian can finish checking integrity.”

Neither Vlad nor Sally said anything as they lifted the unconscious man onto the stretcher. There was more tension between them than usual and Vlad wisely avoided small talk. He remained with her in the infirmary, watching her gently remove the bandage covering the stitches in his chest. She frowned in professional disappointment.

“He is hurt?” Vlad asked as he fumbled with the terminal leads to his hand-held.

“He’ll have a scar now for sure. It would have sealed up fine before.”

Vlad shrugged. “So, he’ll have scar. He’s mad. He won’t mind.”

She threw him a disgusted look, but he was peering into his display and didn’t see it.

“How’s the implant?” she asked, not bothering to pursue the matter.

“It’s not broken. It must just be reset. Something overloaded it.”

“There was another implant in his head when we got him back. That probably had something to do with it. Ian’s examining it. Ask him if you need to see it.”

“Is working now,” he said. “I coded the interface.”

“By the way, Vlad, I know this is more your field than mine. Do you see a better way of doing this?”

“No. This will work. I just don’t see . . .” He stopped, as if trying to find words.

“Go on.”

“Why do we do this? So he can talk to us? He is mad. He tried to kill himself. He talks mad babble at us! You say it is language, but how can it be?”

“But it is another language!” she said, losing patience again. “I told you we translated some of it. And, if that’s so, will this plan work?”

He shrugged. “Yes, but he is still mad.”

“That’s my problem, Vlad, I’m his doctor. Scott Anderson is mentally ill. We don’t use the word ‘mad’ anymore, by the way. He’s been brainwashed, tortured, and God knows what else. People can recover from that. I know mental illness wasn’t always recognized as curable in Russia, but we’re going to do our best. And, since we have two weeks until the next launch window and another six months before we reach home, it’s not like we won’t have the time. Think of it as a hobby if you like, but you will help me.”

“Of course.” He turned back to his display.