c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(11-24)
The Morningstar III was a capable asset in the Mars fleet of interplanetary ships. Though surpassed by newer, more powerful transports, it still boasted enough capabilities to serve well as a component for everyday commerce and exploration. The one characteristic that set it apart from those designed by engineers of the Old Earth variety, was that the craft carried no weapons. The modern paradigm of thought throughout Martian colonies, and beyond, was that making war had become an obsolete concept. Members of the high council had long ago voted to embrace a sort of pacifist neutrality. Their desire was never to waste resources of any kind on killing each other, or new species that might be encountered. Free expression with civility was a foundational norm of their existence. To behave otherwise seemed repugnant, and counterproductive.
This mindset had been bred into every inhabitant of the outer worlds.
So, a mood of confusion and surprise was aroused, when Judson Baines found himself locked into his personal cubicle. When he tried to exit, an error message appeared on his com-link. An attempt to contact supervisory personnel produced similar results.
He had been cut off from other members of the crew by order of Commander Block.
For Kelly Strafe, the situation was different in nature. The bright, young recruit continued to manifest symptoms of a cranial injury. Something that had Dr. Becka Stoudt visibly concerned. Yet when methods of treatment were discussed, the prescription from other physicians at a clinic on the Red Planet was to have her once again sit in the Hidecki Wellness Chair.
Having the sidelined lieutenant forcibly isolated from her peers did not appear to be necessary. But access to the ward was now restricted to top-line members of the team.
Finally, Stoudt confronted their chief officer in a conference room located near the main control nexus, where navigation and command functions were handled routinely. Her voice cracked a bit, as she stood in the doorway.
“Hornell, I know this probably won’t do any good. But I’ve got to make my contribution. Hear me out, at least. Let me waste my breath...”
The commander gestured for her to enter discretely. He had a look of irritation for the casual way she addressed him, when others in the corridor could hear.
“Doctor, use your manners! I’m in charge of this vessel, show some respect for my rank!”
His medical steward blinked and nodded.
“You know that I don’t answer to a military chain of command. That organizational purge happened after our species settled on the big, red rock. It’s part of keeping healers and soldiers independent from each other. You have your mission, and I have mine...”
Block sputtered and squinted, wanting to clear any extraneous emotions.
“We’re all part of the same social order. Just with different responsibilities. I would ask you to keep that in mind!”
Dr. Stoudt took a seat at the conference table. She could sense that her visit had been a mistake.
“You put my sick bay on lockdown. What’s the rationale for that? There are guards stationed at the main entrance. Guards with laser chargers! I’ve never seen anything like that on a Space Force vessel, or at any of our installations! It’s an outrage! Why break protocol, now?”
Her superior grinned noticeably. He did not attempt to hide his determination to avoid answering the question.
“I expected some kind of flak from you, over our U-turn and change of status. But I won’t debate the details. We’ve been given a new assignment. You might say, as a taxi for dignitaries. Admiral Nauga has decided to take your patients into protective custody. I don’t have the pay grade for arguing those kinds of issues. I hear, and I obey. We will arrive at the dock in about an hour, that’s noon when calculated in universal time...”
The professional healer slammed her palms on the cold, synthetic tabletop.
“PROTECTIVE CUSTODY? WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE IS THAT, HORNELL? IF YOU WANT TO BE A GOOD SOLDIER, THEN WHY DID YOU MASK MY STREAMING FEED, BEFORE? WHY COVER FOR ME JUST TO DO AN ABOUT FACE, TODAY?”
Block scratched the beard stubble on his chin. It had been a long day at the helm of their ship.
“If your actions were detected, that would have reflected negatively on my command. I can’t let doubts gather about my ability to operate this craft...”
Stoudt unbuttoned her laboratory coat. Her blood pressure was beginning to rise.
“So, that’s it? We travel back to our home base, and drop off Kelly and Judson like unloading containers from the cargo hold? You won’t experience a moment of guilt or introspection over their departure?”
Her military host raised his eyebrows, and breathed heavily.
“My opinions don’t figure into this, Becka. I don’t get paid to give advice. I get paid to accomplish designated tasks. Anything less will put me on the outside. I’ve been there before. It’s not a place that I care to revisit...”
Inexplicably, she felt a sudden urge to slap her opponent across the face. Her arm jerked reflexively, and caught him completely unprepared for the strike. It sent him backward in his roller chair. His cheek reddened from the impact.
“My goodness, doctor! I haven’t had a whack in the chops like that, since my divorce in colonial court. I hope it made you feel better! Be assured, it didn’t do much for my ex-wife with her suit to gain a legal separation. Though our magistrate was amused by my embarrassment...”
Dr. Stoudt slumped forward over the table. Now, she felt spent and exhausted.
“Another ride in that damned chair will ruin Kelly Strafe for good! And I can’t guess what will happen to the university geek. He’s got a strong intellect, but those electrode pods will scramble his brain cells. When it happens, there’ll be a burden of guilt waiting for you! I hope it isn’t too heavy for your shoulders, commander!”
Block tightened his jowls, and looked directly into her eyes. An expression of emptiness pooled in his gut. His humanity had been surrendered.
“You are dismissed, doctor. Thanks for providing your input!”
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