What Are You Made Of? Page 3

  Marisa and Mario were busy trying to engage themselves in activities in the holographic recreation room that could change into a tennis court, billiard room or night club. However, neither felt terribly compelled to engage in a sports activity or game as the ship continued to fight its way through the storm.

  “How about we access the ship’s computer to find out about our future neighbors on Ceres?” Marisa playfully asked Mario.

  “Okay, computer please access all biographical data on the Ceres scientists and engineers,” Mario commanded.

  The couple chose to listen to the computer’s audio file which gave a synopsis of accomplishments, interests, degrees and work histories. A short interview asked each member what they hoped to accomplish on the terra-forming mission.

  “Well, they all seem to have the stereotypical personality traits for scientists—dedication and arrogance,” Marisa joked. The couple only paid minimal attention to the computer’s diatribe as almost all the history files sounded similar.

  Just then the computer played the audio interview of Mikola Petrovsky who stated: “It is imperative this colonization is a success so humans can maintain their superior standing in this and all sectors of space. Conquest and survival of the fittest have always been two of the strongest driving forces for discovering new frontiers…”

  “He sounds kind of fanatical,” Marisa commented. “Let’s command the computer to go back to his work profile.”

  The couple requested the computer to access Petrovsky’s work record as they listened attentively to a reading by the computer’s syntha-voice program:

  “Mikola Petrovsky filed a grievance with the space association for eliminating his job as chief engineer of starship design. Petrovsky lost the case,” the computer’s voice file continued, as the courts found the W.A.A. had the right to replace him with robotic entities who could complete the work faster and more economically. However, Petrovsky’s superior skills and efficient work record have continued to be the benchmark for human space techs.”

  “Wow, he must be the best of the best if the W.A.A. still chose him for this mission despite his grievance case,” Mario noted.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Marisa added with waning enthusiasm. “I was hoping to look forward to some new company on the planet, but now I almost wish we hadn’t accessed their files.”

  “Well, we are in charge of creating our own excitement,” Mario responded while he grabbed Marisa around the waist. “Let’s turn this room into a club and get down to some serious dancing or I’ll call Linda—our ‘morale counselor’—in here,” he playfully threatened.

  Dancing always cheered Marisa up. She broke into a wide grin and put her arms around her husband. The room darkened as it completed its metamorphosis into a dance hall and Mario fought to push the fanatical image of Petrovsky to the back of his mind.

  Chapter 8: Digging Up Dirt

  The meeting to address Petrovsky’s concerns took place in the Gallant’s ready room. All were in attendance with the exception of McElroy and James. Joyce Starkman, who was running late, would join the meeting in progress.

  “Let’s get this meeting to order, people.” “Ms. Hiroshi will make sure the minutes are properly recorded for future W.A.A. review,” Petrovsky announced.

  “I know we have purposely excluded Adrian McElroy from this meeting. Under the circumstances, the doctor is fortunate he is not among us or I would motion that charges be pressed against him for his illegal cybernetics work. My apology to Mr. & Mrs. Starkman for my harsh words. This meeting is not about whether the android project results in success or not. It is McElroy’s methods that are on trial here and every place the federation inhabits. His work was entirely performed with no respect to society’s values,”Petrovsky argued while tugging upon his maroon cap.

  “If that is all we are here about then I wish to withdraw from this meeting—which sounds more like a hearing to me,” Aaron Starkman countered.

  “Aaron, please hear me out. My reasoning for bringing up McElroy’s actions is they have brought more consequences upon us than just whether the android boy can successfully become part of our society or not. As for me, I see the boy as a threat to our survivals you may have already concluded from my tone,” Petrovsky pointed out.

  “However, the consequence I have referred to relates to the delegation of duties that we all have to shoulder in order to usher in a new colony for the people of Earth,” Mikola continued.

  “I thought that the civilian crew en route to the planet would usher in the first Cerean people,” Anna Ciprelli interrupted.

  “I think we can conclude we are all here to assure that humanity continues to thrive in response to your statement, Anna,” Petrovsky retorted.

  “Anna makes a good point,” Aaron interjected. “You are making observations based upon Earth’s laws and customs. Eventually, this planet will have its own constitution.”

  “I will applaud the day that the federation of Terran governments allows Ceres to become an independent governing body. But until that day, this planet is to be governed under the federation constitution which is partly based upon the old United States constitution as you might remember Aaron, with you being such a history buff and all.” Mikola stated this while forcing a diplomatically inspired grin.

  “The immediate concern we have is delegation of duties,” Nadia Petrovsky said in an attempt to take the heat off her husband.

  “Many of you have taken a scientific curiosity in the boy as well as an affection for the person he represents; however, the time it took to create him has impacted the project,” Nadia said as she warily eyed the room for support.

  “What my wife is alluding to is that crop production has suffered because of McElroy’s selfishness,” Mikola continued as he shot an approving wink at his wife.

  “He has not spent the proper amount of time monitoring both the crops and the soil thus threatening the planet’s readiness for the new inhabitants,” Mikola pleaded.

  “We now must all share the burden of additional duties to compensate for his lack of responsibility.”

  “Well, I have no problem becoming more involved,” Aaron volunteered. “I will make routine checks on the plants and soil if you provide me with the proper equipment.”

  “Thank you, Aaron,” Mikola said with a hint of sarcasm. “I see your wife is not present. Could that be because she is not fully supportive of the project that re-created her son—or is it that she doesn’t trust him to be alone?”

  “Please address us in a civil and respective tone,” Peter Ciprelli intervened.

  “You’re quite right, Peter,” Mikola said mockingly. “I should show the same respect that you have given your wife, Anna.” Peter burned inside knowing full well Petrovsky was alluding to his infatuation with Karen.

  “Well, we still need people to work on mapping orbit so we can fully reap the benefit of the planet’s growing season,” Mikola continued.

  Both Karen and Peter quickly volunteered for the detail as Anna cast a dubious eye on them.

  “What a surprise!” Mikola exclaimed facetiously.

  “I guess that settles the matter for now…” Mikola said as he was cut off by Joyce who quickly entered the room.

  “Well, that’s good. Because now we have another matter that’s going to take our full attention.” Joyce held up a jar. “I have found radioactive contaminants in this soil. I suggest we all undergo physical examinations by Dr. Hiroshi immediately.”

  Chapter 9: Ill Equipped

  One hundred and fifty years earlier, the World Aeronautics Association’s galaxy-class vessel Tempest carried the first crew into the Andromeda Galaxy in an attempt to reach the newly discovered planet Ceres. The mission’s impending failure would not only force the W.A.A. to spend decades improving ship design but would eventually cause the association to be blackmailed by one of its top engineers…

  “Doctor Bernhardt, can you please tell me why it’s taking you so long to diagnose helmsman Parsons�
� medical condition.” “I need to know why the crewman went berserk on my bridge a.s.a.p.,” Captain George Bennett’s voice commanded over the medical bay’s intercom.

  “Blood work and skin samples have been taken captain. We now have to wait to see if the ship’s computer can scan its library to find an earth disease that matches it. I honestly cannot provide a diagnosis based on just looking at him,” Dr. Frances Bernhardt responded.

  “Can you give me a time estimate then?” the captain asked as he conceded a loss in his latest war of words with his chief medical officer.

  “If our systems cannot provide an analysis in the next hour I am afraid I may have to impose a quarantine of all bridge personnel,” the doctor stated blandly.

  “Quarantine!” Captain Bennett barked. “How did we get out of space dock and spend almost three years in flight with a potentially contagious disease on board?”

  “I am as puzzled as you are captain. However, the quarantine request is a standard medical order when immediate diagnosis cannot be made,” Bernhardt explained.

  “I know,” Bennett muttered just underneath his breath as he buried his face into his hands. Maintaining patience with the doctor’s emotionally detached demeanor caused the captain to engage in some of his fiercest battles—namely the ones he fought to maintain composure in front of his crew.

  The astronauts had spent the last three years in flight with no respite as cryo-stasis chambers had not been invented. This caused the ship’s ten person complement to tread dangerously close on the nerves of each other.

  Captain Bennett started to become agitated with Bernhardt over drinks in the ship’s lounge. The doctor lamented the assignment would cause him to miss more than a decade of his child’s youth.

  Bennett could not comprehend why a family man would volunteer for such a risky and lengthy mission. He was annoyed that the doctor did not think about the parting with his daughter more thoroughly. “If he shows this much dispassionate behavior at home maybe his family is not missing him that much,” the captain thought to himself. But for the present, Bennett reasoned he must suppress his personal feelings about the doctor as he knew he was going to face his first serious challenge of the voyage.

  Three hours earlier, crewman Gregory Parsons had started sweating profusely. He had suffered an epileptic-type fit while seated at the helm…

  When first officer Don Gibson tried to steady the ill crewman in his chair, Parsons lunged at him and punched him in the jaw as a token of his appreciation.

  Parsons shoved the captain knocking him down before security officer Amanda Brown could subdue him with a hypodermic needle.

  “You’re going to kill us all!” “You’re going to kill us all,” the ill crewman shouted while his eyes rolled in his head. In two minutes Parsons was rendered unconscious by the contents of the needle and was carried to sick bay.

  “Any ideas on what Parsons is suffering from people?” Bennett asked the bridge crew. “I’ll settle for a guess while the doctor is taking his sweet time coming up with a diagnosis.”

  First officer Gibson volunteered the first hypothesis. “I believe Parsons suffered hallucinations from something he had ate in the mess hall. His track record has been exemplary up until now, especially when tested under stressful situations. Do you want me to have the food processor analyzed as well for a root cause of this problem?” Gibson asked the captain.

  “Good thinking, Don,” Bennett concurred. “We will also want to check that the self cleaning unit is successfully killing bacteria. Please put crewman Jacques Fortier on that detail.”

  Fortier, who was not on the bridge during the incident, was chosen for the task in case the doctor was right in predicting a quarantine for the bridge personnel.

  Gibson complied with the captain’s order and reported back in one hour with Fortier’s findings that were transmitted electronically from the ship’s kitchen.

  “Fortier found the food processor is functioning within normal safety parameters according to its specs.”

  “Then we are dealing with a potentially dangerous situation as the disease was somehow generated from an environment outside this ship,” Bennett theorized. “In any case, we must take measures to quarantine ourselves. That means that the five of us better find a way to get comfortable,” Bennett concluded.

  “How could that be?” Gibson stated in reference to an outside source for the illness. “We all had to pass thorough testing for contamination before coming aboard.”

  “We must remember that various technicians worked on this ship pre-flight,” the captain stated as he pinched his lower lip with his fingers. He punched his communication pad to speak to the doctor. “Doctor, please pull up a file of all the people who stepped on board this ship pre-flight,” the captain ordered.

  “I will when I can get to it,” Bernhardt replied. “Right now, I am busy setting up an oxygen tent around Parsons and myself as we will also need to be quarantined here.”

  “That’s a good idea, Frank,” Bennett quickly added to reassure the doctor. The captain did not want now to be the time to evoke an emotional response from Bernhardt. “Do whatever is necessary doctor; we must get this ship to its destination at any cost.”

  If the quarantines were ordered, only three of the ten astronauts would not be impacted—crew men Fortier, Sanchez and Devaney were not assigned to either the bridge or medical bay at the time of the incident.

  “I don’t see how the personnel working on the ship pre-flight fit into the equation any more than we do,” Bernhardt spoke through the ship’s intercom.

  “They would have been subject to contamination and medical testing just as we were. Also, the ship should have been tested for contamination itself to prevent any outbreak of disease.”

  “Should have is the operative word,” the captain interjected. “I don’t want us to take anything for granted.”

  “Aye captain,” the doctor reluctantly replied. He glanced at a computer monitor for an estimated response time to his previous query.“If the disease is serious,” the doctor thought to himself, “measures must be taken to try to turn the ship around. The Tempest must not be allowed to infect Ceres despite Bennett’s obsessive compulsive ramblings.”

  In engineering, tensions began to mount as Chief Darlene Sanchez learned of Parson’s illness and orders to stay clear of the bridge and sick bay. “Just what the hell did I sign up for?” Sanchez asked aloud as Ensign Sean Devaney looked up from his console.

  Devaney, the youngest officer on board, contemplated answering her question but quickly thought better of it.

  As Sanchez ran her fingers through her long dark brown hair, Devaney pretended he was not distracted and continued monitoring the ship’s navigation system.

  “How can you be so calm ensign?” Sanchez asked Devaney with a heavy dose of annoyance. “I’ve found that things are usually twice as worse as senior officers report in an effort to maintain order.”

  “Some people say counseling is the best medicine for dealing with a troubling situation but I disagree,” Sean responded trying to sound confident. “However, if you would like to talk about it we can take a break.”

  “I’m impressed with your diplomacy.” “Did you learn this skill at the academy?” Darlene asked mischievously as she put her hands on her hips and sauntered over to Sean’s work area.

  Darlene’s skintight dark maroon jumpsuit complemented her slim figure well enough that she felt the confidence to use either her body or her seniority to intimidate the ensign. She often teased him in hope to get a rise out of him and would have continued the game if not for the sudden sound of Doctor Bernhardt’s voice over the intercom.

  “Sanchez, are we on a secure channel?” the doctor asked.

  “Just a minute,” Darlene responded as she transferred the doctor’s transmission from her video console to her hand held communication device. “This transmission can still be traced; however, nobody can patch into this signal while we are speaking, doctor.”
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  “I’m asking you not to repeat our conversation to anyone,” requested Bernhardt as Darlene motioned for Sean to leave the area.

  “May I ask why?” the chief asked without hesitation. “The captain said Parsons possibly suffered a case of food poisoning.”

  “I don’t want to go into detail for my reasoning just now. However, you can be assured that it will backed up by my authority as chief medical officer.

  Suffice to say, I am requesting that you be on stand by if I should order the crew—or some of the crew—to evacuate the ship via escape pods.”

  “I knew this situation was worse than the captain said it was,” Darlene commented as she waved her arm in the air.

  “I also may need to order the ship to take a different course. Can you block out navigational control from the bridge if necessary?” the doctor continued.

  “That may take some doing doctor. I would need at least a two hour notice to pull if off.”

  “Very well. I implore you not to alert anyone of my requests. I will only ask you to undertake these actions if and when I feel it is necessary to relieve the captain of his command. Please delete all records of this transmission.”

  Darlene felt her face losing color as she fulfilled the doctor’s request. “How could a case of food poisoning turn into this?” she thought to herself in disbelief.

  Back on the bridge, science officer Tanya Fields used the ship’s sensors to identify all known elements the had been exposed to during the last few light years of the mission.

  “Find anything unusual?” Engineer Kevin Barker asked Tanya as she scanned through the data on her screen.

  “If I did, would you be able to understand it?” said Tanya not really expecting a response from Kevin. “Probably not, I am sorry for interrupting you.”

  “You should be,” Tanya said quietly trying not to let Captain Bennett, first officer Gibson or security officer Brown hear her.