Homesick

Sally worked silently and carefully, sewing together the great rip in Scot’s now clean skin. The infirmary was small but well equipped. Above the table where Scott lay were a series of well-placed panels displaying all his scans, vital signs, and the notes Sally dictated as she worked. A mobile tray with a tree of clamps served as a robotic nurse, holding and cleaning the necessary tools. She glanced at Scott’s heartbeat and respiration and spoke a series of commands that adjusted the continuous drip of medicine into his arm.

When the seam in Scott’s chest was closed to her satisfaction, she formed the knot, cut the suture with a tiny pair of scissors, and proceeded to trim the loose ends. After glancing again at the display, she stood up straighter and assessed her work. She had not seen Ian come in, but he had been there for several minutes.

“How do you do that?” he asked in genuine admiration. “It’s a pleasure to watch you work, Doctor.”

She smiled. “And I thought you were squeamish.”

“I am normally,” he admitted. “But you make it look so . . . clean and neat. You also make it look easy. Like there’s nothing to it, really.”

She shrugged. “In some ways it is. Or, at least it couldn’t be much more complicated than what you do. Instead of fuel consumption and navigation systems I deal with blood circulation, nutrition, and things like that.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here. Not that I hope to need these kinds of services, mind you.”

“Nobody does,” Sally agreed. “But medicine isn’t always about surgery. Most of it’s about health. I monitor your exercise regimen, for example, and suggest changes in diet.”

Ian smiled. “It’s a shame I have such a taste for freeze-dried bacon.”

“Well, fortunately, that hasn’t been bad enough to affect your performance review,” she assured him. “But being captain and doctor is a nice combination, I suppose.” She stripped off her gloves and pulled the mask from her face.

“How is he?” Ian asked.

“Stable. There was some minor hemorrhaging in his liver, probably from whatever fractured his sternum, but I think I got to it in time. If that was worse, I don’t know what I could have done. These facilities are good but not that good.”

Ian scanned the room with appreciation. “Did he say anything?”

She shook her head. “I’ve had to keep him on general anesthesia until I could stabilize him. Judgment call, I suppose. He’ll probably be out of it for a few hours. That’ll give the bone knitting treatment a chance to do its work.”

Ian looked over Scott’s exposed body. He could see several stitched wounds, all neat and clean. But something else caught his eye that he hadn’t noticed in the dim light of the shuttle bay. Written on Scott’s chest was a series of strange characters. He pointed to them and looked to Sally.

She shrugged. “You’ve got me as to what it means. Naturally, the translator couldn’t decipher it without more to go on even if we understood their spoken language.”

“My Granddad had one of those.”

“Looks more like a brand than a tattoo,” Sally said, gently running her fingers over the symbols. “They might all have these markings, but they’re so dirty it’s hard to see.”

“My granddad’s was branded on, too,” he said with a cold edge to his voice. “Our old friend Adolph gave it to him.”

“A number, you mean? In the camps?”

He nodded. “Father told me. I used to remember what it was once. Those filthy butchers! And we come all the way out here to find more of that filth?”

“I guess some things are universal,” she agreed, drawing the sheet over his torso. “But I think there might be more to this than just cruelty. I think these people have hit a new low. I can’t speak to what your grandfather suffered, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they make Hitler seem like a philanthropist.”

He nodded, still staring.

“I also think you may be right about their technology being more sophisticated than it appears.” Reaching below the table, she pulled out a small metal tray. On it was a cone-shaped metal object about the length of a finger joint. “See what you can make of this.”

Ian turned it over in his hand. “Where did you find it?”

“In the base of his skull,” she said in disgust. “Fortunately, it was familiar territory. I found it near where our own VR implants usually go. I uploaded his images to the Space Medicine Center for advisement and they gave me the go ahead to take it out.” She leaned back and stretched her arms, making a popping noise in her back. “I pulled a marathon shift but I wanted to get this done before we got underway. We can secure him in his quarters now.”

Ian looked down, avoiding her eyes briefly. “Uh, Captain, I’m afraid that’s what I came to talk about.”

“What?”

“Well, we can’t leave yet.”

“But I thought you said we could make it if we lightened the ship __”

He raised his hands and nodded. “It hasn’t anything to do with that. It’s the Space Commission’s call. They didn’t want me to interrupt your surgery, and apparently that had something to do with it.”

Sally squinted in confusion.

“When they got my initial report about the mission they started asking questions about Scott. Apparently somebody outside the UN Space Medicine Center was interested in that transmission you just mentioned, and something’s got them spooked. They’re not giving us the okay to come home early.”

“That’s crap!” Sally laughed. “They can’t do that! It’s my call! Who gave that order?” She started for the door, but Ian blocked her way.

“Captain,” he said in a firm, diplomatic voice. “Things aren’t as simple as they used to be. Now, normally you’re right, it would be your call. But there are situations in which that can change. These people are very well informed and they seem to know the right people. Somebody new has taken over the whole works down there, and they mean business. This has nothing to do with the launch window. They’re invoking Earth security.”

“Security? How can that possibly apply?”

Ian shrugged. “Believe me, I tried to find out, but they don’t feel we need much of an explanation. They wouldn’t even let me talk to the Commissioner. Suddenly everybody’s locked out based on some kind of blackout order. The last word was we’re on radio silence. No VR, no voice contact, nothing. By order of some . . . Dr. Poole, I think. And, whoever Dr. Poole is, he wants us isolated until this is all cleared up.”

“Poole? Never heard of him.”

“Well he’s big, whoever he is, and as far as we’re concerned here he is the Space Commission from now on. He issued a security quarantine order, Code White. Have you ever seen a Code White? I never have. It’s absolute!” He shook his head. “This isn’t something you enter into lightly.”

“Well, fine, I can understand quarantine, but why do we have to stay here? It’ll take us six months to get back. Isn’t that quarantine enough? If it isn’t, they could have us dock at one of the platforms or park us in orbit of Mars or something, couldn’t they?”

Ian shook his head. “It’s not that kind of quarantine. It’s more like containment. About the only way it can be issued is during a war. It’s normally applied to the most dangerous enemy combatants, and violating it could be considered an act of terrorism.”

“Terrorism?” Sally scoffed. “That’s completely ridiculous! The enemies are on the surface! We’re clear!”

“I agree. That makes sense to you and me, but Dr. Poole won’t hear of it. What’s worse, I was told if we tried to make any move to prepare to return early, and notice I say ‘prepare’ to return early, that would be considered an act of piracy!” His face betrayed his amazement. “Even plotting the course without permission could mean the end of our careers. Piracy is right up there with drug running!” He shook his head. “And, assuming we actually did leave early, depending on who found us first, they may even start shooting!”

Sally’s jaw dropped.

“At the end of the day, no matter how you look at it, we have to stay here, at least until the normal launch window comes. Hopefully things will have cleared up by then.”

Sally steadied herself on the end of a chair and shook her head.

“Captain, please think about this very carefully. Is there anything in your report about Anderson that could possibly have raised this kind of red flag?”

Sally looked puzzled.

“To put a time-frame on it, we get back to the ship. Once we’re out of quarantine, as flight officer and acting chief pilot, I inform Earth that our EVA mission was successful. Now, that took about five minutes. You were in surgery. My conversation with the Space Commission gets interrupted the moment I mention Anderson was injured and not in his right mind. Then I’m talking to UN Medical, I think.”

Sally nodded.

“Then I’m pressed for details, most of which I don’t have. I knew Anderson was speaking a different language, I knew he had some kind of compulsion not to return with us, and he was obviously brutalized. But, at this time I’m still basically filling out a routine report on an EVA and answering logical and understandable questions. Now, I go back to my quarters and start composing a letter to Angela, assuming we may still be in blackout. By that time, you’ve sent in your preliminary report including a description of this.” He held up the metal devise. “Now, less than an hour later, I’m told all this including a Code White quarantine that requires an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council and the Space Commission to enact! Now, what the bloody hell, pardon my language, was in that report?”

Sally again was at a loss for words. “Nothing at all. I mean, I classified the object as an unknown piece of biotechnology, probably bio-neural. I removed it. It doesn’t appear active now. I planned to seal it for later examination.”

“What about bio-toxins?” Ian pressed. “If I were space commissioner, the only way I could imagine doing this is to protect Earth from a plague. Does that seem reasonable?”

Sally shook her head. “We’ve analyzed the microbes we brought back, and all the tests came up negative. We decontaminated during quarantine and I did a complete scan. None of us are showing any signs of disease and, if there were one, the data I sent wouldn’t support it. I’d be asked to run different tests long before anyone would start crying plague.”

Ian held up the object again, but Sally shook her head. “Ian, that could just as easily have been a bullet as far as the report was concerned. The only reason I considered it biotechnology is that it appears to have been surgically implanted near some significant nerve clusters.”

Ian set the object down on the tray. “Then we’re back to square one. But it looks like they may know something we don’t. Either that or we’ve got some paranoid people in the UN.”

Sally took his arm. “Most likely that’s it,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “I’m sure whatever it is they’re afraid of can be straightened out quickly enough.”

“I hope so,” Ian said. “Because I don’t fancy staying here indefinitely. I’ve got a garden to tend back home.”

“Are we safe here at least?”

“I’m keeping watch on the planet,” Ian assured her. “I still don’t think there’s any danger of missile attack or anything like that. I may suggest going to a higher orbit if I can do so without kissing somebody’s ring . . .”

“Do what you think you need to,” Sally said. “I’ll support whatever you decide.” She then rubbed her forehead and couldn’t suppress a yawn.”

“You need some rest,” Ian said. “We’ve both pulled double shifts the way I look at it.”

She turned back to Anderson.

“Captain . . . Doctor . . ., if I may suggest, let me take Scott to his quarters. You go relax. Maybe I can get Vlad to help.”

She nodded and sighed deeply. “I’ll try to get to the bottom of this. I’ll give them a call after I’ve reviewed the data.”

“Will you at least eat first?”

Sally nodded.

Ian’s face grew awkward again. “Oh, and concerning contacting the Space Commission, don’t be surprised if you can’t. This radio silence seems to be exactly that. I wasn’t able to talk to my own flight director. Even that blue boy that monitors our home visits isn’t allowed to talk to us.”

“Well, at least we found a way to shake him!” Sally laughed.

Ian smiled. “Maybe. But, by the time this is over, we might just miss him a bit.”

Sally let his words sink in for a moment and then turned back to the table, making a final check of Anderson’s readings.