Outward Bound

8^th January 1999

Arms crossed in front of her chest, the woman stood quietly before the plate glass wall watching the setting sun. She was not entirely at ease in this new uniform with odd colored sleeves, and she ignored her reflection in favor of the magnificent panorama playing out in front of her. Sweaty little boys dressed in colorful free-flowing tunics ran up and down the uncrowded shoreline, scores of sea birds dipping and soaring over their heads, as the immense yellow-orange sun hung low over the water. The sight was as unexpected as it was appealing, especially after the just completed three-hour flight on an overcrowded airplane.

The day had been warm for the month of January, a humid 83 degrees Fahrenheit and just a degree short of the record, as the luggage porter had told her repeatedly. She shook her blond head slightly. She needed to start thinking in Celsius. Alpha was officially metric although over the past thirty-six hours she had read more than a few reports that used the disapproved-of Imperial unit system.

She continued to watch, regaining in some small measure her own sense of equanimity, as several of the large, white birds finally swooped down to land on the water, sending small ripples in all directions. She wished she could hear them —the birds, the water, the calls of the children— but they might as well be on another planet for the utter lack of outside noise that made it into this huge glass atrium. Despite the need to be elsewhere, she chose to ignore the crowds behind her and enjoy the view for a few stolen moments longer.

The vaguely seagull-like birds had interesting dark stripes on their wings that matched their dark bills and eyes. She watched as tens and then perhaps hundreds of identical birds all swooped low over the water, landing to float in disorganized but congenial mobs. What so intrigued her, though, was that the striped birds were only one of the many different species she could see from her elevated vantage point. She had never thought of the Persian Gulf as a humid, bird rich environment.

Beyond the birds, perhaps a kilometer away where the shore turned south, there was a sight that was odd, but much more along the lines of what she expected: a herd of camels wading into the water, she supposed to cool themselves. Everything— the water, the shore and even the air— was so pristine that it was hard to believe she was standing in a state-of-the-art aerospaceport. It had opened just this month to mark the occasion of the World Government officially welcoming this small, oil rich country into the ILC.

The flicker of ruddy light off the sea brought her attention back to the imminent sunset. The huge yellow-orange sun was starting to sink below the water; the rich blue now streaked blood red in the sun’s setting rays. Above and east of the setting sun, she noticed the crescent moon just becoming visible in the dimming light. It would be many months, perhaps not until October, before she would see another sunset. It pleased her that this one was so memorable.

She covered a yawn as she checked her watch. The Eagle should be here soon. Perhaps she could grab a nap on the flight out. She had been running nonstop for the past two days and was, quite frankly, exhausted. Her old intern knack of being able to sleep anywhere and anywhen should come in useful. She turned around and searched for direction signs to guide her to her gate, but could not find anything in easy sight. She had obviously not paid enough attention to the garrulous porter who had guided her here then left her, presumably taking her luggage to its security checkpoint.

Sighing in frustration, she looked about for an information kiosk, the huge fountain in the center of the glass atrium blocking much of her view. Even tired and discouraged, she had to admit the sight of it was magnificent. Three-stories tall, the fountain cascaded down in vertical, glass-smooth many-meter lengths of water, interrupted at the bottom by artistically arranged rocks that broke the water and added a pleasant burbling counterpoint to the constant susurrus of the dozens of languages spoken by hundreds of people. As she paused to admire the effect, she noticed that the lights dancing on the smoothly descending lengths of water were in fact Arabic language characters, which then morphed into Cyrillic characters, and then into Roman letters. She had found her signage and was duly impressed. There were at least a dozen languages represented, each amazingly legible given the fluid writing surface.

She watched as the needed information cycled through twice and finally nodded her head. Now, if she was reading things correctly, her concourse should be off to her right and the Eagle about twenty-two gates distant. She picked up her red duffle bag full of data discs, her favorite stethoscope and her current needlework project, and slipped it up over her right shoulder; her left hand holding the well-padded carrying case containing her replica Delamare microscope. The two-day notice she had received of her appointment had been barely enough time to get caught up on status reports, much less pack properly or put her affairs into proper order. Thank goodness you could pack a lifetime’s worth of medical literature on the small data disks now commonly available.

She had worked very hard over the past five years to win an appointment to Moonbase Alpha; and not just any appointment, but that of the coveted CMO position itself. She had known her credentials placed her amongst the leading two or three candidates for the position, which was due to come open at the conclusion of Dr. Darrel Wandell’s tour in October. That timing couldn’t have been better; she had anticipated finishing her latest experiments on Green Sickness by June, and the resulting paper would have strengthened her candidacy considerably.

That plan changed dramatically, however, when Dr. Wandell was injured in an accident just three days ago. Normally ‘in the loop’ concerning such information, the first she had learned of it was two nights back when she had been awoken from a sound sleep in the Amman hotel by a frazzled ILC courier. She had since been scolded by the powers-that-be for failing to file the correct forms advising the ILC of her location at all times. All candidates for senior positions in the ILC had to do so, just against such unexpected situations as this. The rebuke had stung, especially coming from Commissioner Simmonds, but she admitted to herself that the prestige at being invited to guest lecture at the University of Jordan was worth the momentary forgetfulness.

Leaving the sign-fountain behind, she made her way across the huge central hub with its marble floors, the dense crowds slowing her progress. As she came to a standstill yet again, she allowed her tired thoughts to wander back to that eventful night. She smiled slightly to herself at the memory; she had quite scandalized the young man.

The honor of receiving the coveted appointment had been somewhat mitigated by the fact it had been one am local time— and that she had been dressed in her old, comfortable, purple nightshirt and faded yellow slipper-socks. Her short, sheer nightshirt, and the matching robe that did little to obscure her figure. In hindsight, she really should have bought something that provided more coverage and fit the modesty standards of this region of the world. The young Arabic man had maintained strict eye contact with her the entire time as he handed over the appointment paperwork and new security clearance documentation, but she had seen his blush of mortification. Ah, well. No doubt he would have an interesting story to tell his friends.

In any case, Wandell had since been returned to Canada where he could receive the intensive rehabilitation he needed, and she was now the appointed Chief Medical Officer of Moonbase Alpha, and due to assume her position at 0800 GMT tomorrow. She glanced at the stylized clock high on a wall— in only eighteen hours, give or take.

The slow walk through the sleek steel, glass and marble hub took her past showcased still-life masterpieces from European, Asian and Middle Eastern traditions. Abstract sculptures soared high in the vaulted space, in some instances almost reaching the reinforced and insulated glass ceiling some three or four stories overhead. It was quite apparent that no expense had been spared in the aerospaceport’s creation. It was almost so overwhelming that the unobtrusive armed security guards placed at regular intervals went all but unnoticed. It took another fifteen minutes until she approached the final discrete checkpoint to the entrance of the restricted concourse, guarded by both local forces and the expected purple-sleeved ILC security.

One of six that spanned this huge facility, Concourse C was reserved for Eagles. She joined the line to present her credentials and submit to a security scan. There were fewer and less imposing artworks present in this section, and all were appropriately space themed. Fifteen minutes later, the queue finally wound its way through the smaller portal that led into a more typically proportioned room, one that held the anticipated security scanner and uniformed technicians. In contrast to the lavishly decorated spaces she had just passed, this small room was very stark and empty. For some reason, the absence of any distractions left her unsettled. Looking at those in line in front of her, she now understood the presence of magazines, journals and electronic readers tucked under the arms of those in line. Obviously, this was a known problem to the frequent-flyers.

Resigned to the wait, the white-sleeved woman looked through the translucent divider-walls abutting the security gate to catch whatever glimpse she could of the restricted concourse ahead of her. To her surprise, there was an enormous enclosed case as tall as she was just beyond the security gate, its contents presented at a slant so she could see them easily. To her growing delight, she realized it was a meticulously detailed architectural model of Moonbase Alpha, right down to the lights in the windows, scale Eagles on the launchpads and tiny moonbuggies scattered about on the lunar surface, which had the look of authentic lunar regolith. Everything was exactly as it should be from her recent reading, except for the presence of an unexpected wing adjacent to the living quarters. That not-so-tiny multistory building was done in the predominant color of this nation’s flag and signified what would be the nation’s future contribution to the growing Moonbase. Again, she found herself impressed.

To provide the resources and funds needed to build and furnish such an expansion argued that this nation planned to exceed its already extravagant promises to the ILC. She glanced back to the foyer of the impressive aerospaceport. The cost of all this was a mere pittance compared to what that diorama implied. Impressive indeed. As her glance returned to the security station, she caught the odd looks given her and her legs by one of the non-ILC robed guards standing by the security gate. Ah well, she should have anticipated the clash of cultural mores.

“Doctor Russell?”

A cultured, feminine voice with a Middle Eastern accent broke through Helena’s train of thought. She looked around. Even in this relatively small space, the large number of people present made it difficult to locate the voice’s source. A young woman in a skirted ILC uniform approached her with a smile and an outreached hand of welcome.

“It is Doctor Russell, yes? I saw your name placed as a late addition on the flight manifest. I am going to Alpha, also. May I join you?”

Helena set the microscope case carefully on the ground and took the woman’s hand. Looking more carefully, Helena realized the woman was older than she initially thought. Perhaps in her late forties. The rust-colored scarf covering her hair had been deceptive.

“Yes, I’m Helena Russell, and you are...?”

“Please call me Tasneem Ladha.”

Helena paused, flogging her tired brain. “Dr. Ladha? From the University of Zurich?”

The woman nodded, pleased. “Yes, I am she. I also have been appointed to Alpha, and I am very pleased to meet you.” The intelligent face smiled pleasantly. “I have followed your reports on the Green Sickness with much interest. It is good to see a woman publish in such prestigious journals. I do suspect, however, that I understand only a small amount of your work; our mutual fields have little in common.”

Helena nodded as she gathered up her microscope and gestured the woman to join her in line. A quick glance to the red-sleeved man behind her showed he had no objection to Dr. Ladha’s unexpected arrival. Helena smiled her gratitude as the older man resumed reading from his scientific journal.

Dr. Ladha’s field was theoretical particle physics, about as far as Helena could think from the messy blood and guts of space medicine. Her memory finally offered up some additional information; there had been a controversy... about five years ago, shortly after Lee had...

“Were you finally allowed to receive your Nobel Prize, Dr. Ladha?”

“Tasneem, please.” The woman’s voice was soft and almost lyrical. “My government might have prevented me from traveling to Stockholm, but it could not prevent the Academy from recognizing my work, or from publishing that information worldwide — or, prevent the visit of a renowned British scientist on a goodwill mission,” and now Dr. Ladha dropped her voice even softer, her dark eyes sparkling in good humor. “One who just happened to have my Nobel medallion in his pocket.”

Helena looked discretely at the woman at her side. The international scandal of this country not allowing a woman to receive the Nobel Prize in Physics had caused a furor in the international scientific community. The backlash had provoked some political changes, and Helena wondered if Dr. Ladha’s appointment to Alpha had been in some small measure an official apology.

Perhaps following Helena’s train of thought, Tasneem flashed a smile. “I am honored to be appointed to Alpha, and,” here Tasneem patted herself below her neck, “I am bringing the medallion with me for good luck.”

Helena returned the smile. She thought she would rather like getting to know this woman. Before she could think of anything else to say, she was summoned by the security official and went through the steps to verify her identity and clearances. Once Dr. Ladha had accomplished the same, they walked companionably down the concourse toward their distant gate, on occasion commenting on some of the more unusual pieces of artwork present.

More alert now, and feeling the anticipation build as she approached the departure gate, Helena paid more attention to the people around her. There was the usual mishmash of uniforms one usually saw in a spaceport: formal military uniforms from a dozen countries, the fatigues worn by the on-duty International Peacekeepers Force, and a sprinkling of the distinctive, if bland, ILC uniforms. Only personnel on active duty to Moonbase Alpha, the Centuri Spacedock, and the Eagle pilot cadre wore the beige unisex slacks uniform with one colored sleeve. This fact made it all the more unusual that in addition to a rust-colored head scarf, Helena’s new Alpha-bound colleague wore a very unexpected skirt. Helena was well aware the official uniform included this option, but Gorski had put out the dictate that on his watch all Moonbase personnel would wear slacks. Was Tasneem’s skirt a concession to local morals, perhaps? It would be interesting to see what happened on Alpha. Gorski had the reputation of getting his way.

Finally approaching their gate, the two women found seven or eight people by the wide window watching for the Eagle’s arrival. This had obviously not yet become routine. Several white robed men wearing white headscarves standing a short distance removed from the group blocked Helena and Dr. Ladha’s way. As Helena approached, one of the men turned to look at her. He seemed surprised that she met has gaze, and even more so when she indicated she wanted to pass. His colleague turned at this point and gave Dr. Ladha a look of displeasure, bordering on hostility. Helena suspected they were some of the keepers-of-morality she had been advised about; not everyone approved of the government’s new rules and of its joining the ILC. Helena led the way to the arrival gate, Tasneem following in her wake.

“Regardez! It comes!” Called a young French-accented voice. Helena smiled. She recalled the first time she had seen an Eagle up close. Lee had given her a private tour once, shortly before he had left that last time. Helena’s smile faded. He had promised her a trip in one when he returned.

In the black night sky, the white craft’s running lights illuminated its landing pods, with a flashing red strobe marking the lower aspect of the command module. Although unseen from this vantage point, Helena knew another red light blinked on the command module’s upper side.

Watching the Eagle maneuver itself toward a landing, Tasneem continued their interrupted conversation. “What brings you to the Middle East? I cannot believe you traveled all the way from the States just to meet an Eagle.”

Helena returned her attention to her companion, only now noticing the strain on Tasneem’s face as the scientist glanced back the way they had come. Had the hostility from the robed man meant more than she realized?

“I was lecturing in Jordan when the Chief Medical Officer position came open. This was the nearest facility to have an Alpha-bound Eagle with room for an extra passenger on such short notice.” Helena shrugged. “There was no time for me even to return home. I just barely had time to arrange for someone to take over my lab at Vanderbilt, have friends watch over my apartment in Nashville, and update all the ILC forms.”

“You did all that in only a day or two? My, you are the efficient one. The ILC will have its paperwork, will it not?” The smile lines around Tasneem’s eyes crinkled as she shared her sympathy at the endless forms. Helena chuckled and nodded.

Helena looked around. The usual podium and gate attendant were absent. In fact, there was no one present who seemed ‘official’ in the usual capacity of someone to check you onto the flight. Helena was no expert when it came to Eagle flights, but she would have expected tighter security. Perhaps Eagle protocol varied from was she was used to for airplanes? Mentally shrugging, she turned her attention again outside.

The Eagle had settled to the tarmac, the struts of the landing pods compressing to accommodate the weight of the good-sized spacecraft. Helena watched as ground crew approached the Eagle from the front and sides, prudently giving the large rear, engine bells a goodly clearance. Even in the limited illumination provided by the exterior lights, she could see the heat haze rising from the engines.

A man on the tarmac waved the large, colored rods he held in a deliberate fashion, and Helena could see and hear the rectangular docking tube extend to mate up with the side of the Eagle’s pod. There was clanking and then the wet sound of suction devices being engaged. Finally, she could hear the sounds of someone coming out from the Eagle. And singing?

A nondescript, sturdily built man of middle years and graying hair walked jauntily out of the tube, his orange-clad left arm proclaiming him one of the pilots. He looked at the small crowd still watching the Eagle and its attendant ground crew, seemingly unsurprised to find none of Eagle-watchers paying the least attention to him. He finally saw Helena looking at him and a broad smile creased his face. He walked over, a hand outstretched courteously, offering it first to the older, Middle Eastern woman.

“Dr. Ladha? And Dr. Russell?”

“Tasneem Ladha.” The woman smiled, but made no effort to take the pilot’s hand. Helena wondered if this was a cultural habit, or if Tasneem was reacting to the presence of the hostile morality police.

Helena reached over and took the man’s hand. “Helena Russell.”

The pilot recovered from his apparent faux pas and smiled genially at both women.

“Welcome, ladies. I have the honor of taking you up to Alpha.” He bowed slightly from the waist. “Michael Aaron Patrick Sean Eoin Kelly at your service. But,” an impish grin crossed his face, “you can call me Kelly, everyone does.”

Helena had to smile at their pilot’s infectious good humor. “Thank you, Lieutenant Kelly.”

“Just Kelly, ma’am. This way, ladies. Let’s make good our escape before....” Though still smiling, Kelly glanced meaningfully at the robed guards now looking out the window. Helena nodded and followed Tasneem who was already entering the docking tube. Kelly fell in beside Helena, speaking softly. “I met your husband once, Doctor Russell. He was a good man and a damn fine pilot.”

The unexpected compliment caught Helena off-guard; all she could do was nod as Kelly sped up to join Tasneem at the open hatch to the Eagle proper where another pilot waited. Helena watched as Kelly unobtrusively blocked the younger man’s outstretched hand, wondering at the fleeting frown that crossed Kelly’s expression.

“Back to the command module with you, Mike, where I told you to wait. I want this bird ready to take off as soon as we get clearance.”

The younger man had been looking at the new arrivals with interest, but at Kelly’s rebuke his brow furrowed. “You don’t really believe that scuttle-butt, do you Kelly?”

“Whether I do or do not is beside the point, I told you to stay where I left you and to stay on the mark. You need to listen, my young friend, if you ever plan on earning that Alpha post you want so badly.”

Helena looked between the two men. There was an undercurrent of... something... despite the still-genial smile on Kelly’s face.

Kelly stepped past the younger pilot, gesturing for his new passengers to follow him. As Helena passed the yet-to-move Mike, the younger pilot looked her up and down appreciatively. He leaned in too close and whispered for her ears alone, “It’s always good to have a pretty nurse on board. You never know when you might need some… personal attention.”

Helena was torn between anger at his presumption, and passing humor at the comical leer. She was about to verbally put him in his place, when a no-longer smiling Kelly appeared at her shoulder.

“Dr. Russell is the new CMO of Alpha, which you would have known, Ryan, if you had bothered to take the moment to review the mission specs. Once we reach Alpha, I will leave it to her to decide whether or not to put you on report to Commander Gorski for insubordination.”

Helena watched with quiet satisfaction as the color drained from Pilot Mike Ryan’s face.

“Your seat is this way, Doctor.” Kelly stood aside, and graciously held out his arm indicating the last row on the starboard side. As she and her handheld luggage squeezed past Kelly in the tight space, Helena noted that he continued to glare at the other pilot. Ryan hurried forward as Helena took her seat, the other passengers silent at the interesting dressing down between the flight officers, even if not understanding the specifics for it.

“You know how to strap in, Doctor?” asked Kelly.

She stepped off the center aisle and took the aisle seat next to Tasneem who was already settled in, and demonstrated her proficiency with the various belts, courtesy of long ago discussions with Lee. Kelly nodded with approval; his good humor restored, Helena was relieved to see. “And I mean it. It’s your call about reporting that young pup. He’s a good pilot, but he’s lacking in respect, both for the Eagles and the ladies.”

“Thank you, Kelly. I’ll think about it.”

She waited as the senior pilot took her duffle to the rear of the Eagle, then returned to pick up her microscope case from the aisle. He glanced about the cabin, nodded at the young woman seated immediately in front of her, and then walked forward to the command module. He paused only briefly in the forward walkway to strap the Delamare microscope in a storage cubby before entering the command module and closing the door behind him.

Allowing her bone-deep fatigue to finally prevail, Helena relaxed into the brown and black seat. She looked about the Eagle’s cabin. She was here, really here, and on her way to Alpha. Sleep came quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The roar of engines woke her up... that and something else. Helena pushed herself upright, flexing her neck back and forth to get rid of an uncomfortable kink. Looking toward the front of the cabin —transporter pod she corrected herself— the Eagle seemed to be inclined. That was unusual. Lee had told her that the artificial gravity generators on board masked any sense of climbing except for the initial moments of takeoff, which given how tired she had been, had most certainly been a while at go. As always, the thought of Lee caused her heart to constrict, just a little.

“You are awake? This is good. I neglected to bring anything with me to read, and I do not speak Italian,” Tasneem chuckled softly. She then answered Helena’s unasked question. “We waited for three quarters an hour for clearance, and just now have taken off.”

In that haze common to first awakening, Helena turned to see Tasneem’s smiling eyes regarding her sympathetically, as the woman held a white plastic bulb out to her.

“My father was also a physician, and I recognized your sleep as one who has been on duty too long. Would you care for something to drink?” Tasneem gestured to the bulkhead next to her where Helena could now appreciate a small recessed door. “This is from storage; we do not rank a steward.”

Helena gratefully took the fluid-filled container and sipped from the attached flip-up tube. The tepid water tasted flat and filtered, but her dry mouth welcomed the soothing moisture nonetheless. Rolling the next sip around her mouth, she looked about her. The interior of the Eagle was long and narrow. There were three rows of occupied seats bisected by a raised central aisle, each row having two seats per side. There were image screens placed in the bulkheads at the front of each seat row, which just now showed the static ILC logo. Helena knew that these pods were almost infinitely configurable, and by the cramped legroom and lack of amenities, this one was obviously set up as a transporter for passengers of only mid-level importance.

Finishing the survey of her immediate surroundings, her not-quite-rested mind finally recalled something the other woman had said. “Italian?”

Tasneem smiled and nodded toward the two women seated in the row in front of them, and Helena turned her attention to their nearest fellow-travelers. The young women were slim, dark-haired and given their yellow sleeves, assigned to the Service Section. The one nearest the central aisle, just in front of Helena, had long hair, while the other young woman’s hair was quite short. Through the engine thrum, and despite the softness of their voices, it was undeniably Italian they spoke, and Helena rather thought she detected the tone of what could only be called ‘girl-talk’, no matter what the language.

Helena studied the remaining passengers as she sipped the water; she had been too tired to people watch when they had first boarded. The transporter pod was full with each of the twelve seats taken by men and women wearing the beige Alphan uniform. There seemed to be twice as many men to women, but that was consistent with the ratio on Alpha, Helena knew. Europe, Asia and Africa were represented, although this flight did have a slight preponderance of Middle-Easterners. She was the only one wearing a white sleeve. The majority of the skills represented fell in the technical section, although there was one atypical uniform in the end seat of the front row across the aisle from her. That slim, neatly bearded individual wore two beige sleeves. Interesting. He also seemed to find the flight uncomfortable given his facial expression, or what she could see of it from the side. He couldn’t be agoraphobic, could he? Certainly not and still serve on Alpha.

The Eagle finally seemed to level out. She wondered if that meant they were through the atmosphere, or that the gravity generators were now in effect. There was no way to tell how far they had traveled as the front viewscreens on the bulkhead remained off. That did surprise her. Lee had said how it was common to relay the images from the command module back to the passengers to keep them from asking ‘are we there yet’ every ten minutes.

“You are thinking a good thought?”

Helena jumped a little in surprise at Tasneem’s voice. “What?”

“You are smiling.”

Helena realized she was. Lee had possessed that dry sense of humor she had loved.

“No, nothing of any consequence.” She wasn’t ready even now to speak of Lee to a stranger. Thinking of how to change the subject, she turned her attention to her new acquaintance. “Tell me something of your research, Tasneem.” The other woman looked gratified at her interest, and relaxing some, started to speak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helena enjoyed listening to Tasneem’s animated description of her work, although she understood only the most general of concepts. It seemed that Tasneem was involved in the particle physics associated with radiation and its decay, and that she had found some interesting, and perhaps concerning, irregularities in the readouts from the lunar storage facilities. She was going to Alpha, in part, to study the phenomena more closely, and just perhaps, Helena thought, to escape the close scrutiny she seemed to receive in her own country.

Tasneem’s face was alight with her enthusiasm. “I am very much looking forward to my time of Alpha. Some in my people’s government feel it is too unsafe. Pah. Even with the small bobbles one expects in space, it is much safer to live on Alpha than almost anywhere else.” And with that, Tasneem proceeded to explain the many innovations Alpha had in place in regards to their nuclear facilities.

Tasneem’s comments caused a wayward memory to surface. Lee had once described the extensive underground lunar storage units for the byproducts of Earth’s nuclear programs, and had said that for all its fancy research labs, Alpha was in essence the babysitter of a whole lot of material at risk of going ‘boom’. She must have looked concerned, as Lee had then hastened to assure her that the actual likelihood of any explosion was almost nil; still, the oversight of all that waste was an integral part of Alpha’s current mandate and a major source of funding. A yawn caused Helena to cover her mouth.

“I am sorry to bore you.” Tasneem looked slightly embarrassed. “I know I tend to go on once I find a sympathetic ear.”

“No. I’m just tired.” Helena reassured the woman. “I have an acquaintance on Alpha who shares your interests. Dr. Bergman.”

“You also know Victor?” Tasneem now looked delighted.

Helena thought the woman’s open expressions very charming. “He was part of the committee responsible for interviewing candidates for the CMO position, and we have corresponded occasionally since then. His questions are always interesting. Anything from the possibility of artificial hearts running on the energy generated in the brain, to the psychology of living underground with only artificial sunlight.”

Tasneem chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like Victor.”

The women were interrupted by the sounds of the command module door opening and Kelly walking into the transporter pod. He nodded to his passengers.

“Sorry about the unexpected delay, but we’re on our way now.”

“What happened, Lieutenant?” asked an older, rust-sleeved man with a South African accent seated in the middle row.

Kelly shrugged and smiled easily. “Oh, the usual. Too many aerocraft wanting to be up and about. In any case, a medical situation has come up on the Centauri Spacedock and the ILC has asked that we drop Dr. Russell off to review things there in person.” Kelly nodded in the direction of Helena, who suddenly found herself the focus of attention.

Kelly continued, “We’ll be at Alpha at 0100 hours GMT tomorrow.”

Surprised at the turn in events, Helena took a moment to realize that Kelly’s answer to the South African tech’s question was a non-answer. Kelly walked down the aisle, and crouched next to the woman in front of Helena, speaking very softly as the two women paid close attention. Helena did not clearly hear what was said, but it was in English. As her gaze passed by Kelly, she noticed the plain-sleeved man also watching Kelly, but his expression was one of displeasure. Over the delay?

“Dr. Russell?”

Still crouched, Kelly had pivoted slightly in the tight aisle space, the movement causing Helena to shift her gaze up to Kelly’s intent face, which was now focused on her. He spoke softly.

“I need you to go along with whatever I say, understand?”

Helena opened her mouth to ask questions, but Kelly shook his head ever so slightly, and Helena closed her mouth again. When Kelly spoke again, it was in a casual, more normal tone of voice, Helena rather suspected for the benefit of the others.

“We’ll stop just long enough to drop you off, Doc. We should be there in a couple of hours. Do you want me to pull your duffle out of the storage cube in back? Don’t know how long your detour will last. It’s the red one, right?”

Helena watched the pilot closely, and saw the all but imperceptible prompting nod. What in the world was going on here?

“Yes, with the Astro 7 Mission patch. Thank you.”

Kelly nodded. “Good enough. I’ll be right back.”

Helena was thoroughly confused, but kept a professionally neutral expression on her face. Kelly moved past her and through the orange and black-bordered walkway into the back storage area. She wanted to turn around and see what he was up to, but thought that would only draw unwanted attention. What had happened? Why was he not being truthful with her fellow passengers?

“Helena?”

Her train of thought interrupted, Helena turned toward Tasneem. There was a strained expression on the physicist’s face.

“Tell me more about your work, Tasneem. It sounds very interesting,” Helena coaxed. Whatever was going on, she would support the pilot’s request, for now at least. She gave Tasneem an encouraging nod, and then settled back in her seat, to all appearances listening attentively to the discussion. She would have to wait until she was no longer the focus of attention to ask the woman in front of her what Kelly had said.

A low hum of conversation slowly resumed within the cabin, although Helena could appreciate a strained quality to the chatter. The young women in front of her leaned in together, and resumed their conversation, although now they spoke in a mixture of Italian and English.

Helena’s mind raced. She supposed there well could be an emergency on the space dock that might need an extra pair of near-by hands, but why not just announce it? Why all the cloak-and-dagger dramatics? She felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach, and jumped when a shadow abruptly covered her and her red duffle landed in her lap.

“Here’s your bag, Doctor.” The light brogue of Kelly’s voice carried throughout the cabin. “I think everything’s there, but you might want to check to make sure. I’ll call back to let you know when we’re almost ready to drop you off.”

As the pilot stood, he accidentally pulled the duffle off her lap and onto the raised aisle. A few data chips fell to the floor, as well as a stethoscope and a piece of clothing. Surely she had closed her bag more securely than that after the security check? Kelly moved to bend down and pick up, when the long-haired woman in front of Helena turned around and started to pick up a few of the fallen items.

“Here, I’ll help.” The Italian woman’s voice was low-pitched, and pleasant.

“Thank you, Melita.” Again there was that slight smile on Kelly’s face, but then the pilot moved off and entered the command module before Helena could ask any questions. Melita picked up the various small items, even having to reach below her seat to retrieve an item. Finally, she sat up and turned around to face Helena, her hands full.

“Doctor, here is everything that fell out.”

Helena noticed a commlock amongst her belongings. It was held near the woman’s chest, but clearly meant to be part of the items being ‘returned’. Helena glanced up at Melita, and the woman simply gestured again with her full hands. Helena knew well that her commlock awaited her on Alpha. She took everything, including the commlock. “Thank you. Melita, is it?”

“Yes.”

The woman turned back around in her seat, not taking the opportunity to start a conversation. Helena would have almost called it rude in other circumstances.

She slipped all the data discs and the stethoscope back into her duffle, and was about to examine the commlock to see who it belonged to, when the flashing message on the small screen caught her eye:

Clip commlock on belt

Taken aback, she slowly did as the message instructed, and sat back in her seat.

“What is going on, Helena?” Tasneem had seen the message also.

“I’m not sure yet.” She settled into her uncomfortable seat to sort through the items in her duffle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour passed. There had been no comment from the Command Module, and the passengers appeared to have settled in again for the trip. Tasneem dozed restlessly, her head against the bulkhead; but, as exhausted as she was, Helena felt certain taking a nap now would fall squarely in the category of ‘bad idea’. If nothing else, the stun gun she had unexpectedly found under her needlework kit in the duffle supported that theory. It now rested between her right hip and seat arm next to Tasneem; the duffle was stored beneath her seat.

Melita and her seatmate had ended their conversation. Melita was reading a journal while the other woman fussed with her commlock. Helena knew the small communication devices were multi-taskers, but hadn’t paid much attention to the in-service several months back that had explained their more esoteric functions. To be honest, she had thought them high-tech beepers; yet another way to make sure she was at everyone’s beck and call. She smiled tightly to herself; at the time, the article on a new generation of lichen-based antibiotics had seemed much more interesting.

Unobtrusively, she reached for the commlock and pulled it off her belt. It had remained silent since Melita had given it to her. Helena turned it over, careful not to press any of the buttons, and was not really surprised to see a smiling Melita look up at her from the ID photograph. She was surprised when the unit vibrated in her hand, and barely kept from dropping it. She didn’t remember being told they could do that. The small screen had a new message:

Terrorist on board

Helena’s mouth went dry, her hands shaking slightly. Who was sending her this message? The screen blanked briefly and then a series of messages formed, each lasting just long enough for her to read.

Most danger at Centauri

Kelly says be ready

Centauri in 30 mins

Ready? For what? What did Kelly expect her to do? Shoot the person when he or she revealed himself?

The thought sent a cold frisson down her spine. Maybe that was exactly what he expected. Why her? Why not Melita, who he obviously knew and trusted to help him? She looked about the cabin. Most of the passengers were either reading or sleeping, except for the woman next to Melita. She was awake and still diligently working on something in front of her that Helena could not see.

The commlock vibrated again.

I am in front of you

Helena casually looked up and saw the short-haired woman, still focused on her work, nod ever so slightly. Helena wished she had some way to ask her questions, starting with the obvious: what was going on? The young woman wore the yellow sleeve of the Service Section and was obviously very knowledgeable about commlocks. A tech of some sort, and another person who Kelly obviously trusted. Alright, she’d start there. Helena knew she was not the terrorist, and given Kelly’s recruitment of the two women ahead of her, neither were Melita or the secret messenger. Nor Tasneem.

Why hadn’t she paid more attention at that commlock in-service? How did one send a text message with one of these things? Helena took several careful deep breaths trying to relax the knot of fear that was her stomach. She started to study the others in the cabin, when her stomach dropped out beneath her. Why had she excluded Tasneem? She had only met the woman, and clearly so had Kelly. Her intuition said the physicist was as scared as she was, but was it an act? And the stun gun was still between her and Tasneem.

Helena broke out in a fine sweat, the cabin suddenly feeling deathly cold. All but forcing her racing heart to slow, Helena casually leaned toward Tasneem as if to chat, and got her fingers around the handle of the stun gun. She had paid attention to in-service on these, as she knew there would be the possibility of having to care for the recipient of one the neuro-concussive blasts. The weapons were small and very powerful, and almost too easy to use. Lee had told her the ILC’s security branch did their best to keep them limited to places were holes from metal projectiles would be dangerous. Alpha and Centauri came to mind, as did an Eagle’s pod.

“Are you alright?” she asked Tasneem and slipped the stun gun into her lap, under the bottom fold of her shirt. Tasneem’s eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, and Helena saw the fear in them. The physicist then nodded and smiled with admirable composure, and readjusted herself to lean back against the outer bulkhead and appear to nap. Helena studied her. Tasneem was not their person, she was sure of it.

The commlock, still in her hands, vibrated. She looked down, the flashing red message simple and direct:

NOW

The Eagle shuddered and then...

...... clanking sounds of something outside the pod door trying to get in

...... Kelly’s voice over the intercom shouting the need to stay calm

...... the plain-sleeved man in the front row jumping up, spinning toward the back of the pod and pulling something out from his sleeve

...... Tasneem calling out in Arabic.

Helena had the merest moment to see the now wild-eyed man hold up a thin, long device of some type, lights flashing along its length. A young man from the middle row rushed the terrorist, was hit hard over the head with the bomb, and fell, collapsing onto the back of the seat, blood spilling from his forehead.

Screams and shouts rang through the interior of the cabin, the terrifying sound of the exterior door cycling open overwhelming the awful threat of the bomb, passengers preparing to rush the screaming bomber...

....when a lance of yellow light stuck the plain-sleeved man in the dead center of his chest. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious, the live bomb landing on his chest.

In the moment of dead silence, everyone looked back at Helena and the laser now in her lap, then, almost as one, passengers stood and scrambled past the downed man to get to the spacesuits. In an eerie sense of detachment, Helena watched the pod doors open and the security team rush in, the boarding tube leading to the other Eagle just visible as a reflection on the front bulkhead screens.

With practiced coordination, the purple-sleeved men scooped up the downed man and his bomb and whisked them away, the pod door cycling shut behind them. The moment the door sealed, the Eagle twisted violently, ripping away the connecting boarding tube and accelerating with a fierce roar of the engines, the passengers thrown about like ragdolls. Helena fleetingly worried the sheared off docking tube might cause a breach to their Eagle. Pinned to her seat, gasping for breath in an Eagle still somehow intact, Helena wondered if the other Eagle and its brave crew had sacrificed themselves, and whether that sacrifice had been in vain. Through the blackening vision of looming unconsciousness, Helena could just see into the eyes of Tasneem, and realized the woman expected to die.

After an eternity, the acceleration eased. She could breath again. Kelly’s voice came on overhead.

“We will be landing on the Moon as soon as I can get us there. Dr. Russell, there is a medkit in a storage cubicle in the front walkway. Sandra can show you. Damage report, Melita.”

Awkwardly, Helena picked herself up, and accidentally bumped into Melita reaching for her commlock that had fallen to the ground by Helena’s seat. She was pleasantly surprised to find herself unhurt.

The Italian woman looked about, then started speaking quietly into the handset, as the other woman, Sandra, gestured for Helena to follow her to the front of the Eagle. The young woman spoke in a low, quick voice to Helena as she pulled down the case with the red cross on it.

“Kelly and Ryan are staying up front. They do not think anyone else is a threat, but Kelly said they are taking no chances. We will be landing at one of the research outposts on the moon and stay there until we are cleared. If you give the word, a Rescue Eagle can meet us.”

Helena looked at Sandra, mildly surprised that the accent was not Italian. “How do you know all this? I didn’t hear your commlock alert. Or did it vibrate? I didn’t realize they had a vibrate mode.”

Sandra smiled slightly. “They do not. Normally. I... ‘borrowed’ and augmented a sensor already in place. Kelly knew I would hack into the commline between Eagle and Earth Command to find out what was happening. It was not hard to guess what he wanted done with the stunner he tucked into your duffle, and sending you messages by commlock was Melita’s idea. It was easy enough to do.” Sandra shrugged away her contribution.

Helena was impressed with the women’s resourcefulness.

The other passengers had sustained various minor contusions and abrasions. The worst damage seemed to be the concussion sustained by the man with the failed attempt to subdue the terrorist, and what she suspected was a broken arm in a woman who had fallen awkwardly when the Eagle surged away from danger. The injured tended to, Helena returned to her seat next to Tasneem. The older woman’s headscarf had obviously been pulled off and loosely replaced, not quite covering her grey-brown hair.

“Are you alright?” Helena asked the older woman who still appeared in shock.

“I will be returning to Earth.”

“What?” Helena looked at her in surprise. “Because of what happened? It certainly wasn’t your fault.”

Sadly, Tasneem just repeated herself. “I will be returned to Earth.”

“Dr. Russell?” the voice of the woman sitting next to the concussed man called, “I think Dave is going to be sick.”

Helena rested a gentle hand on Tasneem’s arm, silently asking for forgiveness as she stood to go help.

Tasneem patted her hand. “Yes, do go help the poor man. We will speak later.”

Helena stayed by the side of the dizzy and nauseated man until the Eagle landed. She didn’t think he was severely injured, but wanted to run him through a series of tests, just to be certain.

Everyone jumped at the sound of the boarding tube mating with the side of the Eagle, but settled quickly when the door opened onto the calm, orange interior of the research station. She helped the injured man into a waiting wheelchair attended by an Alphan orderly and watched as they left down the walkway followed by the other passengers. She returned to the rear of the Eagle to collect her belongings. Now alone except for Kelly and the two yellow-sleeved women, Helena sunk down into her seat, took a deep breath, and allowed herself a moment’s respite.

Sagging against the bulkhead near the command module, Kelly ran fingers through his disheveled, sweaty hair, and looked frankly admiringly at her.

“You did a good job, Doctor. I felt sure a surgeon would have the nerve to take the necessary action.”

“How did you know you could trust me?”

“Lee Russell married you.”

Helena did not know how to answer that.

Kelly went on. “We figured out something was wrong as we prepared to lift. Flight control kept giving us conflicting direction. I stalled as long as I could, but the local authorities wouldn’t let us disembark, and wouldn’t give us any details. Remembering who we had on board, I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t do anything until we were sure who we were dealing with.”

Sandra walked up and nodded her head in support. “The international ramifications of accusing that man without evidence...,” she shuddered slightly, “it could have meant the closing of Alpha.”

Helena was surprised. The man had seemed so... ordinary. “He is that important?”

Sandra nodded again. “His family is.”

Helena didn’t quite follow. “Alpha is well established, with funding from many sources. How could one family cause its closure?”

Sandra looked soberly at Helena. “His family has connections by business and marriage with most of the financial world. The influence they can bring to bear on even prime ministers and presidents is such that funding sources could just... cease without explanation.”

Helena paused to consider. The fall-out of this event could be considerable. “There will be changes in security protocols, I suspect.”

“Damn straight,” was Kelly’s emphatic answer. “I’ve gotten the preliminary report that the device he had would have blown a crater in Alpha, or a hole clear through Centauri.”

Helena shook her head. It had seemed such a small thing. But then again, she remembered what the bombs of WWIII had done. “What would you have done if he had taken hostages? Or demanded you land on Centauri or Alpha?”

Kelly looked apologetically to Melita and to her. “No dice. I would have jettisoned the pod first.” Kelly’s arm snaked around Melita’s shoulders and he pulled the woman closer to him. “And that’s why Mike and I stayed in the command module behind sealed doors. There had to be no chance of the Eagle being hijacked.”

Helena shuddered. The images of loaded planes being flown into the capital buildings of several nations in that war remained vivid, even after a decade.

“Anyhow, Earth Control sent a message after we cleared restricted airspace that the local authorities received warning of an attack, most likely to take place while we were en route to Alpha.”

Melita snorted at that news. “And they didn’t wish to endanger their precious new aerospaceport?”

Thoughts raced through Helena’s mind. “Why not wait until we got to Alpha? Surely that would have been a more, well, dramatic target?”

Kelly nodded his head thoughtfully, “Unless there was someone they wanted to eliminate on the Eagle. Anyhow, Alpha has more than a few security tricks up her sleeve we don’t noise about. He probably would’ve been stopped.” Kelly shrugged. “But waiting for Alpha didn’t seem such a good gamble at the time. I didn’t want to chance him losing patience and settling for blowing up an Eagle full of VIPs. So, to buy us some time, I gave our man another, juicier, target to blow up.”

“Centauri Space Station. And buy time for another Eagle to get into position to help us?” surmised Melita.

“Right you are, my love.”

Helena watched as Kelly gave Melita a reassuring hug and a kiss on her forehead. He looked at Helena. “It might take a while to re-issue security clearances for some of the passengers, but most of us should be able to leave for Alpha within the hour.”

Helena assumed he was referring to the new Alphans from certain historically antagonistic countries. Unfortunately, Tasneem was undoubtedly in that number. Her thoughts turned to her patient, and she excused herself to check on him, and to try and see if she could find Tasneem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kelly was correct, as was Tasneem. According to Sandra, everyone received clearance to go on to Alpha, except for Tasneem, who had reportedly received a message recalling her to Earth due to safety concerns. Her country did not want to ‘endanger one of our leading scientists in an unacceptably perilous situation.’

“If they had shared the proper information with us, there wouldn’t have been any ‘peril’!” fumed Kelly.

The Eagle was cleared to return to Alpha, their complement full except for Tasneem, who returned directly to Earth on a VIP Eagle prior to Helena being able to speak with her.

Their arrival on Alpha proper was completely uneventful. Microscope in hand and duffle over her shoulder, Helena walked out of the Eagle first, accompanying her patient and the orderly. The man was feeling better now, but she still wanted to give him a proper check-up. She should present herself to the Commander immediately, but trusted he would understand patient care had to come first.

“Wait a minute, Doc.” Kelly’s cheerful voice called from behind her.

Helena motioned the orderly to continue on and awaited the pilot, who was accompanied by Melita and Sandra.

Kelly swept out his arm, encompassing all of Alpha is a grand, chivalrous gesture; a tired, lopsided smile gracing his features. “You’re finally here, Doc.”

“Welcome to Alpha, Dr. Russell,” Melita said much more formally, with a subtle elbow to Kelly’s ribs.

“Thanks to you, to both of you. All three of you,” she corrected herself with a smile to petite woman now joining them, who she now knew was a data analyst of some repute.

With a final smile, Kelly took Melita’s hand and walked off, but Sandra remained, a quizzical look of her face. Helena shared the feeling. She wondered if she had met this young lady before at some function.

“Would you like me to take you to Medical Center, Dr. Russell? It would be my pleasure.”

Helena was about to accept, but just then a middle-aged woman wearing a white sleeve and having the unmistakable air of a charge nurse arrived. Helena thanked Sandra for all her help, and watched as the tech left, following signs pointing toward the residential wing.

Helena took a deep breath and looked around her. The walls were an unrelenting white, except for the occasional splash of color from signage. With a sigh, she recalled the lovely waterfall sign back at the aerospaceport. Alpha could benefit from something like that, both for the aesthetics as well as for the humidity it could impart; her throat was already very dry. She was in a very different world now. And on a different world. She picked up her microscope, and greeted her new colleague as they walked to Medical Center. Time to get started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her first hours in Medical Center passed quickly as they patched up the contusions, lacerations and one fracture sustained in the failed hijacking. The man with the concussion was doing well and released to his quarters to rest. Doctor Mathias seemed imminently capable, as did the nursing staff. They were a little light on the physician side, but Bob had told her several Space Medicine physicians-in-training were due over the next months, both to gain practical experience and to help out.

She found her quarters with only minimal effort, and had an hour or so to freshen up before appearing before Commander Gorski for her official appointment and, to no real surprise, debriefing over commline with Earth Security. That was one event she was glad to have over. Lee had said Gorski was a capable, if not particularly adept, officer after their one combined assignment, but he had not mentioned the man’s clammy hands and wandering eye. The only good thing from that meeting was the knowledge that the other Eagle and its security team had made it back safely to Earth.

After a surprisingly good night’s rest, Helena awoke on her first full day as Alpha’s CMO with a surprisingly light heart. The excitement of being here overshadowed the events of the preceding day more thoroughly than she would have thought possible. Showered and dressed, Helena turned on her terminal to review the layout of Alpha and find the cafeteria closest to Medical Center for a quick cup of coffee.

Directions now fixed in memory, the flashing message-received light caught her attention, no doubt signaling the first of a long queue of messages. She suspected many would be of the ‘Congratulations on your new position’ variety that would only now be catching up with her after her. She pushed the button to scan the list, and smiled to see Tasneem’s name on one of the messages.

“I am so sorry we did not have the chance to speak again. I will submit another application for Alpha, and perhaps we will yet serve together. Please expect a data file based on our discussions in the Eagle. Your friend, Tasneem.”

Helena reread the message with some bemusement. A file? Whatever about? Helena reviewed what they had discussed on that nerve-wrecking trip. They only thing that really stood out was Tasneem’s enthusiasm over her upcoming work with Victor, and her vague concerns over something to do with the nuclear dumps. Helena shook her head; she really couldn’t recall any specifics.

She quickly reviewed the remaining messages, and found one in the queue from the same origination code. Perhaps the file Tasneem mentioned. She pushed the button and scanned the terse message, then abruptly sat down.

“We regret to inform you of Dr. Tasneem Ladha’s death. Her vehicle ran off road and overturned. No survivors. Data printouts addressed to you found but too severely burnt to retrieve. Message ends.”

Helena was numb. The information in those papers had been for Victor, she was sure, and now the information was lost. What could she tell Victor? That another physicist had had vague concerns based on preliminary research that not even Tasneem had admittedly understood? Helena had been able to follow only one word in ten, even if she hadn’t been distracted.

She took a few deep breaths, the lightness of earlier utterly gone. Her commlock chirped, and Helena answered a page requesting her presence to attend an emergency in Medical Center. She stood up, returning the commlock to her belt. She took a moment to put aside her grief for a new friend too soon lost. She would grieve later, she knew, but for now she had a new world to explore— and given events so far, no matter what else, she doubted it would be boring.

20 January 2010

MGK

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