c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(10-24)
Chief Medical Officer Becka Stoudt now had two priority cases in her sick bay aboard the Morningstar III. A sidelined officer, Lieutenant Kelly Strafe, and Dr. Judson Baines, who had been pulled from the wreckage of his Digger shuttle on their flight deck. Both were special for opposite reasons. The professional soldier had been mentally realigned, with technology used by the Space Force to revive her career as an obedient defender. Something that was controversial, and yet undeniably effective. The university professor was a civilian, and scholar. Someone that did not fall under the authority of military procedures. But his importance as a researcher and archivist had the high council on Mars oddly concerned. Continuity and cooperation were twin pillars of life in the planetary colonies. Anything or anyone that might threaten the regular order of their society was considered to be suspect.
The managing physician felt bound by her creed to protect both of these patients from the consequences of political decisions. As she monitored their life signs, words from the original Greek text of the Hippocratic Oath echoed inside of her head.
“I swear by Apollo Healer, by Asciepius, by Hygieia, by Panacea, and by all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out, according to my ability and judgment, this oath and this indenture. To hold my teacher in this art equal to my own parents; to make him partner in my livelihood; when he is in need of money to share mine with him; to consider his family as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if they want to learn it, without fee or indenture; to impart precept, oral instruction, and all other instruction to my own sons, the sons of my teacher, and to indentured pupils who have taken the Healer’s oath, but to nobody else. I will use those dietary regimens which will benefit my patients according to my greatest ability and judgment, and will do no harm or injustice to them...”
Commander Hornell Block entered the primary cubicle of their care-ward without making any attempt to excuse the brusque manner of his appearance. He wore a standard uniform for duty, made of synthetic fibers dyed in a minimalist pattern of stripes that signified his rank. He did not seem patient. Yet his facial expression remained calm.
“Doctor, I had a call from Admiral Nauga this morning. He asked me to do two things, neither of which should present any difficulty. The first is to see that Ms. Strafe returns to her position as second-in-command of this ship. She is a valued component in our system. I need her at my side. The command structure needs her participating and at the ready for any challenge.”
Dr. Stoudt snorted at his insistent tone.
“When she is ready, sir. Not a moment before...”
Her superior on the vessel paused for a moment, and then continued his declaration.
“Added to that responsibility is my order to transport our guest from the graduate school back to New Cleveland, immediately. There is a team of specialists waiting to assess his condition, and offer treatment, as needed.”
Stoudt hardened her gaze, and stood with the stiffness of a sentry on watch.
“Let me guess, they’ve got one of Mr. Hidecki’s high-voltage marvels waiting to spin his brain cells into a compliant mush?”
Commander Block gasped at being addressed so directly. Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead.
“Becka, I know you’re not a conscript. So, I’ll allow you to speak freely. But keep in mind that the other people on Mars are just like you. They function according to the same standards. They hold the same sort of ethical beliefs.”
The physician shook her head like a child refusing an unpalatable vegetable.
“You’re a bad bullshitter, Hornell! They’ll strap him into a Wellness Chair, and rearrange his cerebral matter. That’s the plan, correct? Another misuse of our technology?”
The Morningstar chief clenched his fists.
“Take care with your accusations, friend. What we say here is monitored remotely. If necessary, it might be used in a future proceeding...”
Dr. Stoudt laughed out loud. She was not intimidated by this quiet threat.
“I’m beholden to the Space Force with regard to health issues, Hornell. That’s my purpose in being a member of the crew. I make judgments about the fitness of your officers every day. Whether they are able to complete their routines, or not. That’s my charge, handed down from the same individuals that tell you where to go and what to do on their behalf. So, don’t bother with the puffery of thumping your chest. It doesn’t impress me a bit. I made a promise to heal those in need, when I first donned this white coat. And another promise to the leadership of our planet, when I took the assignment on this craft. Do you need to hear it again? Stay in your lane! And I’ll stay in mine!”
Block felt his hands trembling. His mind was seething with rage, yet he did not betray this mood with any outward indications.
“I’ll say it again, Admiral Nauga wants Strafe back on duty, and Baines returned to our homeworld. Those are not requests, they are orders from the planetary brass! Your job, and mine, is to make those things happen. I’ll let you run your diagnostic tests, and take measurements, or whatever is necessary. But the end result has already been determined. Don’t doubt that there will be severe consequences if we fail. Both of our careers rest on getting these things done!”
Stoudt brushed strands of graying hair out of her eyes. Suddenly, she was very fatigued.
“I’ll keep you up to date, Hornell. My medical log has all the details, read it if you like...”
Her colleague nodded and turned toward the entry port. Once he had slipped outside, into the hallway, he slammed his right fist into the mylar wall.
“GAWDAMM THAT WOMAN! GAWDAMM THE ADMIRAL! GAWDAMM THE HIGH COUNCIL! AND GAWDAMM THAT CLASSROOM GEEK, HE’S STIRRED UP MORE SHIT THAN HE’LL EVER KNOW!”
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