c. 2024 Rod Ice
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(11-24)
Dr. Becka Stoudt stayed busy throughout her week of duty shifts, as lead physician on the Morningstar III. But once this supervisory routine had been completed, she was grateful to enjoy a day off in between blocks on the calendar. While lounging with a glass of Venusian extract, a crude wine made by explorers who first circled the inner planets in vessels powered by versions of the Gibidan impeller. She had focused on her two most notable patients to the point of feeling exhausted. Now, at least for a brief moment, she could relax and recharge. But before the potent beverage was half ingested, a notification chirp sounded from her com-link. The color indicated was bright red, which signified a priority call. Something that made her sit up straight and press the device firmly to her ear.
Admiral Corel Nauga was on the other end of this virtual connection.
“Doctor! I’m pleased to hear that you’ve got Judson Baines in your care. I expect that he will be fit for travel, very soon.”
Stoudt frowned at the rough tone of his voice. But she maintained a sense of decorum. Her casual dress betrayed being momentarily out-of-the-loop.
“He’s dehydrated and bruised. The landing on our flight deck was not exactly a textbook exercise. The Digger shuttle had reached its limit of endurance, I was told...”
The top-level officer snorted at her candid assessment.
“We’ll take good care of him here at the space dock. You need not worry about that. I’ve assigned our best emergency team to be ready for his arrival...”
The medical pro tugged at her synthetic-wool sweatshirt collar.
“I am not ready to release him to your custody, sir. He needs a few days to recover from being exposed to extreme weather, and the bumpy ride back to our home base...”
Nauga brought his right fist down on the primal console at Texas City.
“NONSENSE! YOU’LL RELEASE HIM IMMEDIATELY, PER MY ORDERS! ANYTHING HE NEEDS CAN BE TAKEN CARE OF HERE ON MARS!”
Dr. Stoudt put aside the half-glass of alcohol. Suddenly, her taste for refreshment had vanished.
“Admiral, I make the decisions about patients on this ward. That’s written into your procedures. Look it up if you doubt my opinion. I’m not a soldier, and I don’t answer to anyone in the chain of command, regardless of their rank...”
Her superior was fuming, and nearly cross-eyed with rage.
“IS THAT HOW YOU WANT TO DO THIS, BECKA? SHOULD I GO TO THE HIGH COUNCIL? IT’S AN OPTION I WOULD PREFER TO AVOID!”
The professional healer sighed loudly. She had grown tired of such petty battles over metaphorical acres of turf.
“Corel, we’ve both been in the service for many years. You’ve earned your stripes and stars, and I’ve earned respect from my peers. We know our responsibilities. I have to protect every individual that enters the sick bay, here. It’s my creed, my oath, and also, the charge given to me by our governing bodies. Anything less would sacrifice my ethics. And scuttle my career...”
Admiral Nauga laughed nervously. He smoothed the fabric of his minimalist uniform.
“I’d never question your faith, doctor. I know how seriously you take your role. But I need you to allow Kelly Strafe and Judson Baines to be transported home. We will see that they receive the attention that they urgently need. There will be no excuses!”
Stoudt reached for her glass once again. She needed a sip of wine before concluding her thoughts.
“The Hidecki Wellness Chair, that’s it, right? You’ll give them both a run-through and hope for the best...”
Her philosophical opponent nodded and whispered while smiling.
“Duty makes it easy, or difficult. The choice is yours. Either way, those two will come back to us, and be restored. The plan has already been set in motion. Heads that tower above mine made the call. For you and me, it’s simply a matter of following our directives.”
His medical contact nearly hissed through her teeth.
“You’ve already damaged the lieutenant, intellectually. I’ve prescribed sedatives to ease the confusion in her brain. She will need rest and therapy, things that will take weeks or months. As for the university scholar, there is nothing wrong with his mind. But a session of shock treatments will tip the scales. Is that what you want?”
Nauga was frustrated and out of patience. So, he decided to speak plainly.
“Becka, when our forebears came to the Red Planet, it was on a mission to escape the wreckage mankind had made. Our species knew how to travel between worlds in the solar system, and gaze into the heavens. But we couldn’t outgrow our lust for power and conquest. The Great Uprising was an act of suicide. Those who got out before that calamity came to fruition provided the seeds for a new civilization. Our civilization! They made it possible for future generations to do better. Our stability, our continuity, our discipline, all come from that sacrifice. Your wounded seeker-of-truth doesn’t understand how fragile our ecosystem is, even today. If he comes here to preach his gospel of absolutes, to raise questions about who and what and where things occurred as we rose from the ashes, then it might put all of this into peril. We don’t need people to ask questions. We need them to accept the answers already given...”
Dr. Stoudt crossed her legs, and cradled the wine glass in one hand.
“Admiral, you’ve lost me with your cryptic word-salad. What is it that you’re trying so hard not to say?”
The military officer closed his eyes and bowed gracefully, over the control panel.
“Baines wanted to be an archaeologist for long enough to dig up the bones of his great-grandfather. But he managed to uncover much more than just the skeleton of an old drunk. Those journals provide a handwritten account of our darkest hour as human beings. A time when the MAGA defense set our world on fire. Their rebellion unleased a kind of evil we’d not faced in generations. The response from national leaders was quick, and decisive. And maybe, inexcusably brutal. Even overblown and unnecessary. Those facts could be debated for centuries to come...”
The veteran doctor stroked her cheek while pondering. She had reddened with surprise.
“Inexcusably brutal? Overblown and unnecessary? What the hell, man! What did he dredge up in those notebooks from the trailer park in old Ohio?”
Nauga leaned forward until his face filled the viewscreen completely. He spoke as if trying not to be heard by anyone outside of their cramped cubicles.
“Those who cooperated took Larman transports to our Martian colonies. They built what we have today. Those who didn’t accept the plan went to detention camps throughout the middle of North America. They disappeared, visually and politically. And in terms of history. If you open their tombs, and let their ghosts wail for a redress of grievances, then you might finally bring down everything that our ancestors built. Think of that cost, Becka! Is it worth being right, in the end? Is it worth telling truths that were better left buried and dead with forgotten sins of antiquity? Is it worth knowing that you just lit the fuse of a political powder-keg?”
For the first time, both participants in the long-distance conversation fell silent. There was nothing more to say.
Guilt and consequence had proved to be eternal.
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