The Moon and the Desert, page 27
He checked the pressure readings in his heads-up display. The pressurization system, at least, seemed to be functioning normally, so he wasn’t too worried about following Yvette as she moved to one of the hatches to the rotating section—but not before he closed and secured the hatch through which they’d entered.
The outer hatches were about five meters wide, unlike many of the other hatches that were just wide enough to allow one or two people to pass. Yvette undogged the hatch, revealing a shallow room with another wide hatch not quite opposite the first.
This then, was the actual transition from stationary to rotating sections. The hatches had to be wide since they would only be aligned for seconds at a time while the habitat ring was rotating. The transition room was deep enough to allow several people—or pieces of equipment—to enter before transitioning through the opposed hatches into the outer hub and one of the spokes that led down (under spin) into the ring.
Once again, they encountered a hatch that had been carelessly left open, and Glenn marveled that the whole ship had not suffered from depressurization rather than just cargo bay one. After passing through the open hatch, Glenn again secured it behind them. Preventable accidents were not going to happen on his watch!
Rungs led down the sides of the spoke corridor, as well as a track for securing and lowering equipment. If the ring were rotating, they’d need to climb down as centrifugal gravity increased, but without the rotation, they could simply drift along the hundred-meter-long corridor to the ring. A retractable ladder extended from the end of the spoke to the ring “floor.” It was designed to be retracted when the ring was not rotating—not only would it not be needed, it would be an obstacle blocking free passage down the corridor. He was unsurprised to see that like so many of the safety features on the ship, the ladder had not been stowed for zero gee, but extended halfway into the ring corridor—neither fully retracted nor extended. On the other hand, for once, every door and hatch seemed to be closed.
Several items of trash drifted in the ring corridor; more debris had accumulated near the air vents. The smell was worse here. Even though his helmet was still sealed, the damaged neck ring allowed in some of the stench of burnt food, unwashed bodies, and bodily wastes. Glenn was tempted to turn up his oxygen supply, but the problem with that was that he still only had eight hours of air despite bringing extra for this trip. There were additional canisters in the cargo bay, but he needed to turn his attention to the crew now.
Even before looking at the crew records, though, he should determine whether or not he could get by with just biosafety filters. Glenn pulled an instrument off his belt and examined a screen on its upper surface. The sampler included multiple chemical and biological sensors. It utilized a hybrid organic and electronic chip that mimicked many functions of liver tissue. Just as the human liver detoxified the blood and metabolized almost anything a person consumed, the device detected toxins, metabolites, contaminants, and reported on how those items could be filtered, detoxified, or eliminated from air, water, or food.
He was not surprised to see that the instrument reported high levels of organic contaminants. The fecal bacterium, Escherichia coli, was prominent; that indicated failure of hygiene—either the ship’s systems or the crew’s behavior. Of course, the smell earlier had suggested he’d get that result. Carbon dioxide was elevated, but not dangerous. That was expected in the residential areas. Likewise, the presence of complex esters and aldehydes—body odor—as well as caramelized proteins and carbohydrates—cooked food. What was surprising was high levels of putrescene and cadaverine. Spoiled meat was the most likely explanation, but it did make Glenn wonder what had been done with the captain’s body.
Okay, best to stay sealed up.
He followed Yvette down the curving corridor until she turned into the only open doorway. The first room of the medical bay was tiny, with a single chair bolted to the deck in front of computer consoles and a diagnostic display which was showing medical readings from a patient. Through another door was a larger room with two diagnostic beds, one of which was occupied by the Space Force medic, Master Sergeant Bialik.
Reports had mentioned signs of a pancreatic disorder and difficulty maintaining Bialik’s blood sugar within safe levels. Her case might be a good place to start, but Glenn first needed to access the medical records and interface some of his own instruments with those of the med bay. He started into the larger room, but Yvette blocked his way with a belligerent expression on her face.
“You said you wanted to look at the records to bring yourself up to speed. I have treatment of the crew in hand. I don’t need you butting in.” She pointed to chair in front of a computer console. “Use that.”
Glenn moved over to the chair, used the rung underneath it to lower himself, and then secured the “seatbelt” which would hold him in place in zero gee. He could have used the wireless communication capability provided by his bionics, but chose to use the keyboard and touch pad. He tapped in the credentials issued when he’d been assigned to the Mars Three crew many years ago, and was surprised that it still worked. He stole a glance at Yvette; she had a sour look on her face, which probably meant that she took the active login as just another indication that he was here to force her out of her job.
He didn’t have time to deal with it now, so he simply called up crew medical records from a point at least a month back, and started reading. There wasn’t much more in the records than what he already knew. Two major illnesses that he knew about were prominent—Captain LeBlanc’s liver failure, and Master Sergeant Bialik’s apparent pancreatic failure. Two new entries, though, pointed to a disturbing pattern. Hydroponics engineer Takeda was showing signs of kidney failure, while third officer Katou was showing the first signs of liver failure, just like the captain.
Every female crewmember who had accompanied Percheron from Earth to Mars and back was exhibiting some form of organ failure. The men were all sick, too, although none were as severe as the women. The crew picked up from Marsbase were now reporting all of the original symptoms reported by the ship’s crew. Most of that only dated back about a month, suggesting that either the Mars explorers had caught the disease from the ship’s crew, or that the causative agent had been on the ship for some time. The crew had longer exposure, but it was still here to affect the Marsbase personnel . . . and eventually Glenn.
The clock was ticking.
Yvette watched him the entire time he reviewed medical records. He made a few mental notes that he would discuss with MMC later but he was hesitant to enter anything into the computer. Some of the blood work looked remarkably like heavy metal poisoning, and that should respond well to treatment—but would that be enough?
Yvette’s delusion that he was after her job was still hanging between them. The problem was—it wasn’t entirely delusion. He needed to figure out if he was going to continue to try to work with Yvette or just pull rank and relieve her.
She took this job from me. It’s mine by right, not hers, he thought to himself, and was almost immediately ashamed of it. That was actually why he shouldn’t just relieve her. He wanted to talk with General Boatright or Colonel Richardson about it first, but he suspected he knew what they would say—he should have locked her up after the attack, and not let personal feelings cloud his judgement. He had rank, seniority, and authority. He needed to do what was best for his patients, and not worry about his—or her—feelings.
Still, he wanted to work with her, if he could. She’d been here, he hadn’t.
He wasn’t able to insert an interface chip for remote operation. Yvette simply watched him too closely. He wouldn’t be downloading the records for later review—at least, not this time—and would have to settle for visual inspection and downloading the long way—telemetry from Percheron to Earth and then back to Bat. The communication lag was down to fifteen minutes each way, but the number of relays from computer to computer meant he wouldn’t receive all of the records for several hours.
“Have you put Takeda on dialysis? That could also help with Bialik’s blood glucose levels. For that matter, even Katou could benefit.”
“Of course, I considered dialysis,” Yvette snapped. “We don’t have the facilities for it. You’re just like everyone else—demanding that I do procedures requiring resources I simply do not have!”
Her response surprised Glenn. While not having the resources might have been true on Mars, the diagnostic beds on Percheron were the best medical science could design. They were equipped with internal components for dialysis, imaging, ultrasound, anesthesia, bone setting, neuromuscular monitoring, and even surgical support. The only thing Yvette should have had to do to implement dialysis would have been insert a catheter into a central vein and connect it to the biobed. The bed would do the rest—running blood through osmotic filters and sending the filtered blood back to the body. Even if she could do nothing about the cause of organ failure, she could treat the effects.
“I don’t understand . . .” Glenn said. “You should have all the supplies in your stocks. Even if you don’t, I brought replacement filters, solutions, and supplies. You’ve seen the designs of these beds. They were going to be installed at Marsbase on the next cycle!”
“You have undermined me every step. You would not let me make my own decisions, said bad things about me to Command, and told them I was incapable of doing the job. You wanted them to wait for you, instead of letting me do the job I trained for.”
“Well, yes, it’s true I wanted to go to Mars; I trained for it for years, too. But I never did those other things.”
“Yes, you did. Now you’re here to take over and finish the job.”
Glenn said nothing. The problem was that her statement could very well end up to be true. Everything he was seeing indicated that he needed to dismiss her and take over. The records for the past week showed fewer and fewer entries, as if Yvette had stopped reporting on any but her sickest patients. If he said “No,” now, and then had to relieve her of duties, she wouldn’t believe him.
He should simply insert one of his control chips into the med bay computer, and go back to Bat. He felt a throbbing pain begin to grow in his temples. He checked his air mix, and saw that the carbon dioxide levels were high; that explained his growing headache. That prompted him to check Percheron’s air as well. Carbon dioxide levels were even higher than he noted before; still not dangerous, but it could explain Yvette’s belligerence.
“We’re not going to solve anything by arguing. There are other things to do. I need to get back to Bat and start unloading food and water. I assure you; I did not come here just to replace you. I’m here to help, so perhaps the best thing for me to do right now is to go away.”
The statement earned a scowl from Yvette, but she did at least offer to guide him. When Glenn declined, her scowl deepened.
Great, that just confirmed to her that I’m just going to push her aside, Glenn thought. The problem is, the longer this drags out, the more likely I’ll need to do exactly that.
CHAPTER 32:
Shepard’s Flock
USSF Office of Scientific Integration
@OSIGenBoatright
Mission Control has received several reports of illness on Percheron. The Bat experimental cargo ship, piloted by Colonel Glenn Shepard, has delivered essential medical supplies to the ship to assist in diagnosis and treatment. At this time, we do not know the full nature of the illness. We cannot comment on who is affected, nor the severity of effects until we receive the results of Colonel Shepard’s analysis.
Richmond Times Features @JenButler
My readers may recall that in addition to his other qualifications, Colonel Shepard is a USSF flight surgeon who has served on Earth and the Moon, and trained with the Mars Three crew. I have full faith and confidence in Colonel Shepard’s ability to figure out what is wrong and bring our people home safely.
ChirpChat, October 2043
The next order of business was to ensure that he had a place to sleep where he could isolate from the rest of the crew. While going back to Bat was an option, it wouldn’t be very comfortable since he would have to either rearrange the tiny cockpit or sleep in the MILES. On the other hand, Percheron’s remaining ground-to-orbit shuttle had bunks for the pilots as well as a hygiene closet and small galley.
The shuttle was everything the specs said it would be. It was attached at two points to the bigger ship. An airlock transfer hatch connected to the pilot and passenger compartment, while a cargo hatch mated directly to Percheron’s Cargo Bay Three. The latter was a three-way connector which allowed access to Bay Three, the shuttle’s cargo hold, or the outside of both ships to facilitate transfers in air or vacuum. The personnel airlock meant that the shuttle’s habitable compartments always stayed pressurized.
The shuttle rode on the outside of Percheron. It would have been unwieldy in atmosphere, but the Earth to Mars transfer ship was never meant to operate anywhere except interplanetary space. The shuttle, on the other hand, had a smooth, aerodynamic shape similar to an arrowhead. It had large fuel tanks, heat-distributing coating, and engines that could operate in vacuum or the thin atmosphere of Mars. In normal operation, it could make the round-trip from Percheron to the Mars surface, and back—twice—in one fueling. It could also land on Earth, but would require a booster stage to return to orbit.
The shuttles were intended to be a workhorse for Mars or the new asteroid bases that NASA and Space Force planned to start establishing in the next five years. They would pick up two additional shuttles prior to returning to Mars, leave both, and bring home the one that had stayed behind on the previous trip.
That all presupposed that Percheron returned to Earth, let alone Mars.
So far, during this trip, the shuttle had been unused. It meant that air, food, and water stored on the shuttle had not been accessed or mixed with anything on Percheron. Since the shuttle had been assembled on Earth and flown up to the final ship’s assembly at O’Neill Station, there was an extremely low risk that it had experienced the same contamination. Glenn could always discard it all and replace with supplies he’d brought with him on Bat, just to be safe.
The risk was low enough that Glenn decided to chance it. The crew compartment was smaller than a cabin on Percheron, but larger than Bat’s cockpit. Most important, it gave him a space where he could get out of his skinsuit and use the hygiene facilities away from the crew.
This would do.
Having addressed the question of where he would rest and sleep, Glenn sent a message off to Mission Medical to officially request updated crew medical records. To avoid the question of why he couldn’t just get them from Yvette now that he was onboard Percheron, he cited the internal comm issues he’d encountered on arrival. The fact that he’d fixed the comm didn’t need to be mentioned, but if queried, he could also claim he was testing whether the automatic backup of the mission records was reactivated once the comm was restored. That, of course, raised an issue of whether the backup was working, but he did still have direct access in the med bay.
It would take time for the transmission to get to Earth, work its way through MMC bureaucracy, and get the data sent back. He could deal with the contingencies of whether the data was accurate later. Now it was time to work on transferring food, water, and medicine from Bat to Percheron.
He still wanted to keep Bat isolated, which meant keeping the argon atmosphere in Cargo Bay One. He would use the cargo hatch on the outward facing side of Bat, and spacewalk items from there to Bay Two.
This was actually a good opportunity for Glenn to fulfill a secondary objective. He’d been told by George Mellies to make every effort to retain Bat’s drive section. At the very least, the Helicity2 Drive would be recycled onto a new spacecraft at Earth. There was even a chance it would be needed to send items back at a faster rate than Percheron’s Hohmann orbit. For that reason, Glenn had attached tethers between Percheron, the cargo module, and Bat’s drive. If he added guide lines from the drive section to Cargo Bay Two, as well as tethers to fore and aft attachment points on Percheron, he’d have a network to automate transfer of cargo from Bat to Bay Two.
Glenn went back to Bay One, reentered the MILES and returned to Bat. From there, he passed through to the other side, exited, and began placing tethers and transfer cables.
NASA preferred to keep extravehicular activity to approximately two hours at a time. Glenn had already exceeded that limit on the two previous EVAs—and he knew that construction crews at O’Neill regularly spent four to six hours in the Black at a time. With the previous hours sealed up in his suit, he needed to ensure that he had plenty of air, water, and food for the next step . . . and it was a good thing, too.
Placing the additional tethers and making sure that they were tight without introducing any additional motion to Bat’s cargo module or drive section took him another four hours. Upon completion, he had all components secure, plus transfer cables in place to allow him to transfer cargo from Bat to Percheron by remotely operated cargo drones.
He went back inside by way of the shuttle, so that he could leave the MILES suit in a place where he would not need to pass through either Bat or Percheron to get to it. He donned a thermal insulating garment, went to Cargo Bay Two, pumped it down, opened the outer door, and began commanding the cargo drones to pull pallets from Bat, across the cable network to Bay Two, and stack the food and water containers inside the bay. When he’d transferred about one-fourth of Bat’s cargo, he shut down the transfer, sent the drones back to Bat and repressurized the bay.
