Station Chronicles: Heller and Beyond
by Simon Kattenhorn
Chapter One
The mouth of the first year resident opened and closed in a rapid sequence of uttered words that were as fascinating as a detailed observation of evaporating water. The content of the delivery was not only uninteresting, but delivered in an unwavering monotone that had the majority of the audience battling against the increasing gravitational forces attacking each's eyelids. Falling somewhere on the fascination scale between banal and soporific, the detailed description by the resident of the latest developments in epidermal research by the members of his med-team became, in the ears of the listeners, an uninspiring drone.
As Julia Heller watched the flapping mouth, it took on a surreal, hypnotizing animation, until the remainder of the room seemed to gradually disappear: such as the fellow doctors sitting around her; the noise of the ventilation system through the room's airduct; the sound of the speaker moving from sentence to sentence without so much as a pause for breath. Even the speaker himself faded away. All that remained was the pair of pink lips, opening and closing, opening and closing, opening and closing. Her thoughts turning inward as her sight remained transfixed on the mouth in motion, Julia reflected on her station life, all it was missing, and how mundane the routine of day-to-day activities in the station hospital had become.
Sometimes it seemed to her that she had been snagged up in an indefinite time loop. And despite her efforts to escape, it always succeeded in planting her each morning back into the day she had just lived so that she could appreciate its pointless circumstance one more time. How many times had she sat here and watched prattling mouths spew out their inane missives, providing her with nothing of consequence to her life or career? She had lost count. If it hadn't for her involvement in the Syndrome ward and the Eden Project, she probably would have lost her mind by now. Her other activities in the Station hospital left much to be desired, and she was thankful that this would be the last seminar she would have to attend as a part of her duty requirements. As from now, her duties were scheduled to be devoted fully to the Eden Project. It had been something she had lobbied for from the hospital administrative board, albeit unsuccessfully, a long time ago.
Something changed in the room. Julia's eyes fell into focus and took in the motionless mouth. The background hum had stopped. The intern was gazing at the audience with a look of expectation, that was met by a sudden round of applause vigorous enough to indicate to Julia that it was motivated more by the fact that the presentation was over than what information it had conveyed. She brought her hands together a few times in a feeble attempt at applause and jumped to her feet. She had almost made it to the exit when she heard a call from behind her.
"Julia!"
She turned to see a dark-haired member of the audience walking rapidly towards her, an idiotic grin plastered across his face.
"Yes?" Julia met the man's visage blankly. "Can I help you?"
The smile vanished from existence instantly as the young male doctor began nervously shuffling from one foot to the other, reaching for something to say more profound than "duh".
"Uh, hi. Um...Conor O'Donnell," he gave a nervous second attempt at a smile which disappeared just as quickly.
"Are you part of Dr. Vasquez's team?" Julia asked with no particular show of interest at what the reply may be. She was surprised to see the doctor's face turn a rather unbecoming shade of red and wondered why her question had induced the man to blush .
Conor O'Donnell appeared to be having difficulty formulating speech. He became acutely aware of the mass of doctors exiting the conference room surging around them like an army of ants. Their heads were cocked just enough to make it apparent that this interaction between the young Dr. O'Donnell and Dr. Heller was providing more of an audience interest than the erstwhile insipid monologue on epidermal research. O'Donnell directed his gaze at the floor, as if searching for a convenient crack in which to fling himself.
"Er, no." Again the flash of a smile. There was no doubt about it, the young Dr. O'Donnell was attractive enough to melt the resistance of just about any living human. Julia's countenance, however, remained blank as she waited, with increasing impatience, for this congenital idiot of a doctor to get to the point. "We met at Portal Nine last week," he finally stammered, before returning his focus to his increasingly fascinating feet.
Julia thought back to her visit to the popular dockside restaurant and bar the week before. She preferred not to frequent such establishments but she had had her own reasons for doing so at the time. Of course, those reasons were forced into abandon by the appearance of a crowd of first and second year medical residents, including, she suddenly remembered, the very same doctor who was standing before her now, shifting from foot to foot, incapable of deciding whether to smile or stutter.
"Oh yes," Julia smiled wanly, radiating all the warmth of liquid nitrogen. She resumed her motion towards the door as O'Donnell fell into step behind her with sudden hope that this interaction hadn't degenerated into a worst-case-scenario after all. "Is there something I can do for you?" she asked.
"Do?" O'Donnell looked confused. "Oh, no! No, nothing really. It's just that...well...you see we, I, er..." He stopped dead, took a deep breath, then blurted out, "I'd really love for you to accompany me to the Station Dramatic Theater production of "Les Enfants Terribles" tomorrow night."
Having finally spat out what he was trying to say, O'Donnell directed his attention to Julia's face in apprehension, and was slightly ashamed at his contentment at seeing surprise shoot across her face, although the look was quickly extinguished.
Julia opened her mouth to say something, stopped, then directed her attention inwards in a palpable reconsideration of how to phrase her reply.
"I'm sorry, but that won't be possible," she resolved after a few seconds.
Offering no possibility of additional discourse on the matter, Julia turned and continued down the hallway of the station hospital towards the lift doors, as O'Donnell stared at her back with a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and disbelief.
"Told you," came the smug voice of one of O'Donnell's fellow residents from behind the nearby ward information desk. "The Ice Queen goeth."
The lift doors closed behind Julia. She pushed the button for the Syndrome ward level and stepped back to stand in the center of the lift compartment, staring at the digital display of hospital levels flashing by. She bit at her lower lip and thought briefly of her encounter with the over-zealous Dr. O'Donnell. It bothered her that her time had been wasted in such a fashion. Especially now, when things were busier than ever on the Eden Project preparations. She pictured the young doctor again in her mind as the digital display of the lift continued with its programmed function. Dark hair. Piercing dark eyes. Prominent nose. Well-toned body. A real Lothario.
"Not even nearly my type," she spoke to the lift doors as they opened to reveal the hive of activity on the Syndrome ward level.
"No, no, no!" Dr. Vasquez rolled his eyes backwards as he directed silent epithets at the young nurse tending to a Syndrome patient in the ward he had just entered. "What are you trying to do, rip his leg off?" Dr. Vasquez directed an angry glare at the nurse as he hurried across to the patient's bed and pulled the annular massager from the nurse's hands. "You are clamping that *way* too tightly. This *is* supposed to be a *beneficial* treatment," he chastised sardonically while simultaneously demonstrating the correct method of adjusting the muscle manipulation device on the child's thigh.
The nurse shrugged unsympathetically and strode off to attend to his next duty as Dr. Vasquez stared laser beams into his back. It had become all too common in the remaining weeks prior to launch of the Eden Project that ward nurses' performance and treatment of the Syndrome children was perfunctory at best. It grated at Dr. Vasquez's sense of moral purpose. That anyone could treat sick children with such casual disregard was beyond his comprehension. It defied explanation that people's hearts could be so cold. However, he had become severely understaffed in recent weeks. His regular retinue of medical support staff now divided their time between preparing the hospital ward on the Colony ship, putting their own personal affairs in order prior to departure, and working in the Syndrome ward at the station hospital. Vasquez had been forced to bring in additional nurses from other departments to assist in the day-to-day necessities of keeping the Syndrome ward functioning. Additional nurses whose disregard for the plight of Syndrome-afflicted children was all too apparent.
Dr. Vasquez finished adjusting the annular massager as the doe-eyed patient stared on blankly. The doctor gave the child a big grin and ruffled his hair gently.
Vasquez checked the read-out panel on the wrist monitor of the little boy's immuno-suit. "And how are we doing today, Robert?"
The child responded in labored breaths. "Okay... I guess." The child stared across the room at the bed opposite him and burst into a short fit of coughing before continuing. "I'm feeling..." - more coughing- "... feeling sad today."
Dr. Vasquez turned to glance at the empty bed directly opposite Robert Ryan and immediately understood. Too many times he had witnessed this reaction and yet it cut to his heart like a knife every time.
"I know, sport. I'm real sad about Renny too. We're all gonna miss him like anything." Dr. Vasquez was distracted by the sight of a young doctor who had slipped in unnoticed and was standing off to one side silently observing the interaction. He gave her a gentle nod and returned his attention to his patient.
"Renny said he'd... be able to run much... faster than me when ... we get there," Robert said sadly. "I... I bet him a whole... week's dessert that I'd... make him eat my dust," he attempted a small smile as his thoughts wandered back.
"Well I bet Renny is gonna be right there when you run like the wind on G889," Dr. Vasquez tried his best to inspire some hope in the little boy. "Right there," he said, pointing to Robert's head, "and right there." He tapped his finger on the little boy's chest, over his heart.
He looked at the doctor unconvinced, eyes devoid of the joy and life that would normally exist in the eyes of an eight-year-old little boy. In the eyes of a little boy who hadn't spent his life in hospital wards, attached to machines and enveloped in an immuno-suit. Robert Ryan's eyes had the look of one who had witnessed a long life of struggle. Eyes that waited only for death to come.
"I really want... to run," he choked out. "Under the sky."
"You will, sport. You will." Dr. Vasquez stroked the little boy's damp hair and brushed the beads of moisture away from his upper lip. "I promise."
Robert Ryan closed his eyes and began dreaming of yet-to-be-experienced running as Dr. Vasquez turned on the muscular massaging device that began its pre-programmed procedure of pressure induction along the length of the boy's quadriceps. He stood up from where he had been sitting on the bed beside the little boy and walked over to the waiting doctor.
"He has a strong spirit," Dr. Heller offered.
"Without the body to match," Dr. Vasquez added sorrowfully.
Julia Heller studied the little boy's resting form and her mind drifted for a few seconds before she regained her sense of the present.
"If what you say about the Syndrome is true," Julia put forward, "perhaps his dream will become reality once we reach the G8 system."
Dr. Vasquez nodded, although the grave look on his face suggested his mind had moved on to other matters. His face had begun to show lines wrought from overextending himself in the quest for a cure for the Syndrome through the lobbying and preparation for the Eden Project. It was easy to see that the doctor had devoted every waking moment of his life to the fulfillment of this goal in the six years since he and Devon Adair laid the foundations for the Eden Project.
Dr. Vasquez had never given any guarantees of success. He had never adequately demonstrated scientific proof to support his hypotheses for the root of the Syndrome. But his had been a nearly singular crusade to determine the causes of the disease. Without additional research by other medical teams, there was hardly a choice of alternatives to consider. The Eden Project was the ultimate empirical test. All of Dr. Vasquez's eggs were in one proverbial basket, and he lived each day in fear that the weave of the basket would finally unravel and the dreams of hundreds of families would be destroyed.
"Dr. Vasquez?" Julia looked at him questioningly.
He glanced back at Julia with a slightly confused expression.
"You asked me to meet you at 1500," she reminded him.
"Oh! Yes, of course." Dr. Vasquez glanced over at the chronometer hanging over the admissions desk as he and Julia exited the ward, and muttered an unintelligible oath at the thing. There never seemed to be enough hours in a day. "Why don't we step into my office," he gestured for her to enter as they approached the office door.
Julia walked into the office and took in the surroundings. She had never entered Dr. Vasquez's office before, which wasn't surprising considering the fact that he was never in there. The office was devoid of anything that wasn't entirely utilitarian in nature. Desk. Chairs. Bookshelves. Filing cabinets for datadisks. Bare walls. The desk was crowded- mostly lopsided piles of old medical journals that Dr. Vasquez refused to throw out. "There's nothing quite like the feel of paper between the fingers and the sight of print on the page," he had once commented. It hadn't helped either that many of the late 20th Century journals the doctor had been referencing had never found their way into the stations-wide medical computer system. Most were deemed too archaic to be of use. However, Dr. Vasquez obviously felt differently, as many of his views were based on old-world medical findings. Which probably explained the poor to non-existent showing of support he had received from his medical peers.
Julia sat down to one side of the large desk as Dr. Vasquez eased himself into his chair. He looked at the doctor before him earnestly.
"Dr. Heller, there has been a slight change in plans," he stated bluntly.
"Change?" Julia attempted to sound casual, although she felt a momentary panic that she could not quite understand.
Dr. Vasquez nodded and continued.
"Dr. Jordan will not be able to accompany us on the Eden Project after all. His expertise is required in Lunar Sector Five immediately."
Julia nodded despite her lack of comprehension of the circumstances, and her mind raced to make sense of what Dr. Vasquez was telling her. Jordan was Dr. Vasquez's right-hand man in the Colony Hospital Preparations Unit. Why on Earth would he suddenly be accepting assignments to the Lunar colonies when the Eden Project was so close to departure?
"I have tried in vain to persuade Dr. Jordan to reconsider. He seems quite adamant about staying behind when the Eden Project departs. I'm not sure what exactly is behind this sudden change of heart, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if there is more to it than meets the eye," Dr. Vasquez added candidly. He leaned back in his synthetic leather chair and seemed to stare off into space despite the fact that he was still looking squarely in Julia's direction. "It's no secret that the... *government* is starting to get a little nervous about the loss of so many medical experts to the project."
Dr. Heller looked at Vasquez incredulously, but his face betrayed no hidden thoughts.
"Are you implying the Council is behind this?" Julia had lowered the volume of her voice, in case the walls had suddenly developed a capacity to hear.
Dr. Vasquez steepled his hands under his chin and stared directly into Julia's eyes.
"What I am implying, Dr. Heller, is that you will now be traveling on the *Advance* ship instead, to replace Dr. Jordan."
Julia gaped at Vasquez in shock as numerous hitherto dangling threads began to weave themselves into a coherent picture in her mind. Certain things were becoming more and more clear. 'A change of plans indeed,' she thought to herself.
Station Chronicles: Heller and Beyond (2/10)
by Simon Kattenhorn
Part 2 of 10 (Ch. 1 cont.)
Julia lay on her bed staring towards the window of her relatively new quarters, where she had been living for a few short weeks. Beyond the transparent metalloid viewport, the stars hung motionless in their unblinking tapestry of distant suns. She had once been told that from Earth, the stars twinkled. It had something to do with how the light passed through the atmosphere and scattered its rays of light. Julia squinted at the circular region of space visible through the viewport and tried to imagine what twinkling stars might look like. Unable to oblige Julia's failing imagination, the stars shone on as unwavering points of light.
"Guess I'll have plenty of opportunity to see twinkling stars when I get there," Julia spoke at the empty room while trying to imagine the night sky covering the surface of G889.
Returning her gaze to the viewport, Julia attempted to imagine a panorama that included mountains and trees and the ocean. The view she expected to see out of her New Pacifica window, twenty-two years from now. But try as she might, the only view Julia could conjure up in her mind was identical to an old picture she had once seen of a volcanic beach in New Zealand. With little frame of reference or personal experience, it was difficult to invoke images of planetary surfaces. All Julia had ever known was the stations. And unblinking stars.
Julia rose from the bed, walked over to the viewport, and sagged down into the alcove along the rim. She watched as a small cargo craft drifted by on its way into Bay 03 and followed its course silently for a few minutes. It felt strange to be in quarters with an external view. Most quarters were within the huge bowels of the stations- in the vast open spaces that had been created by the station architects so that buildings could be constructed in much the same way as they had always been back on old Earth. So that communities could *develop*, rather than be planned out from the start.
For the previous nine years, Julia's quarters had looked out over a vast area of residential housing blocks that stretched as far as the eye could see before the horizon disappeared into the curve of the station's primary ring. There was even an artificial sky above the entire region that simulated conditions of day and night over a twenty-four hour period. But the truth of the matter was, it wasn't a particularly effective sky simulation. At least, that's what the first generation station residents often said.
Now Julia's quarter's had an external view. It was much more than someone of her financial standing should possibly be able to afford. Outer hull habitats were as rare as proverbial hen's teeth. And that was on a good day. Julia waited for the cargo craft to disappear into the portal of 03 then turned away from the viewport.
"I miss the artificial sky," she sniffed, and began removing her robe in preparation for a hot shower when the sudden beeping of her ComCon startled her. It was an incoming message.
She wrapped the robe back around her and walked over to the console, activating it with a gentle push of her right thumb against the scanner device built into the console panel. The image of a dark-haired, middle-aged man appeared and gave her an insincere smile.
"What do you want, Blalock?" Julia near spat at the screen.
If the man noticed her contempt, he neglected to show it.
"Good evening, Citizen. I trust you are fully settled and comfortable in your new quarters."
It was not difficult to perceive that the man couldn't have cared less if Julia Heller were living in a paper box, much less comfortable in her swanky outer ring habitat. Julia had decided long ago that Dison Blalock cared for one thing and one thing only. The Council. Everyone he interacted with were merely pawns at the Council's beck and call. If the man had ever had the capacity to be sincere, it had long since vanished.
Julia stared at Blalock's image and shrugged.
"I was comfortable in my old unit," she replied stonily.
"Nonsense!" Blalock's idiot smile hadn't wavered. "We can't have our most important operative roughing it with the rabble, can we now?" The smile had become so ingratiating that Julia wished she could reach into the console and personally wipe it from his face.
"Cut the bullshit, Blalock." Julia bristled and struggled to maintain her composure. "I never gave you assurance that I would even go *through* with the Eden Project mission. But it's not as if you have gotten that into your thick head," she stabbed her finger at him. "It would have been nice to have been *asked* if I needed new quarters, rather than coming home one day to find your reprobate cronies in the process of relocating me. Don't you think it would look just the tiniest bit suspicious if Adair found out about my new-found financial windfall that allowed me to move out-ring?"
"I'm sure Devon Adair has far more pressing matters to take care of right now than keeping tabs on your living arrangements," Blalock countered. "You should be grateful to the Council for making your remaining days on the station so comfortable."
"Oh please!" Julia was incredulous. "There's no need to buy my allegiance to the Council. What do you take me for, Blalock?"
Blalock leaned forward so that the screen was almost entirely filled with the image of his face.
"I take you for a loyal citizen to the Council, Dr. Heller. Why else would we have trusted you with so...delicate...a mission?"
Julia's face soured.
"I don't recall the Council ever having a need to question my loyalties. It's not as if I've ever known otherwise anyhow, right Blalock?"
Blalock's smile had vanished but the expressionless face he put forward now was hardly an improvement. If Julia had some kind of point to make, he was still waiting to hear it.
Julia began pacing back and forth in front of the console as she continued the conversation.
"My involvement with the Eden Project was always supposed to be one of low-level observation of the planning. You *knew* I wanted to be on the Colony ship to help with the children," she reminded him angrily. "And yet, now," she raised her voice, "*now* I find that I am to be a member of the *Advance* ship. What the *hell* kind of stunt are you pulling here, Blalock?" Julia was livid.
"Your mission has changed," was the only response.
Julia could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was bad enough that she had been surreptitiously reporting to the Council on the developments of a project that she personally supported whole-heartedly. But to now be forced into going along on the mission on the same ship as the Adair woman- the leader of the project- it could only mean bad news for her, she was sure of it.
"My mission has *changed*!," Julia gave out a nervous laugh. "What is that supposed to *mean*, Blalock? I am supposed to just drop everything and run off for forty-five years of indentured servitude to the Council?"
"Calm down, doctor," Blalock deadpanned. He glanced off screen for a second as if his attention had been caught by something. "Meet me at our usual location at 2200 and we will discuss your new...opportunity."
Blalock motioned to cut the connection and the console suddenly went blank, leaving Julia staring back at a reflection of her own disbelieving expression.
The door to Julia's quarters swished closed behind her. The outer-ring habitats were strange to say the least. The outer windows, or viewports, provided nothing but the bleakness of space. However, all windows facing inward provided bright sunlight half of the time from the simulated sky at the center of the station's primary ring. At least the apartments were kept bright inside that way from the ample windows facing inward.
Julia now stood outside her door, looking out over the vastness of the primary ring. The sprawling residential area extended off below her as far as the station curvature allowed her to see, and she felt a momentary panic at the thought of not seeing her home again for forty-five years, assuming she even chose to return. Of course, it would be only two waking years or so in her own time frame, but it made no difference. If she came back, maybe everything would have changed. Or even worse, maybe everything would be exactly the same. Julia shuddered at the thought.
The level from which Julia looked down on the view below her was at least one hundred meters above the primary ring's ground level. At her level, the inner walls of the primary ring were beginning to curve inwards up towards the highest point on the circular ring, so that she was in fact overhanging slightly. Of course, in reality, the high point was actually facing inwards towards the center of the station, which was its centrifugal core. Earthers usually had great difficulty adapting to this radial reference frame, and many gave up on the conventional concepts of "up" or "down", settling instead for "inwards" and "outwards" respectively. Of course, not all stations were of this exact design, but in terms of the energy saved in the production of an artificial gravity, it was a practical one.
The multitude of houses below Julia were sprinkled with the green of hydroponic trees and in the far distance, she could make out the gleam of the artificial lake that acted as a recreation area aboard the station. It was quite a splendid job the station architects had done in trying to recreate lost paradise. The Earth that was. And yet, there was something about the space habitat that had never been a part of the blueprints. That had never crossed the minds of station planners or atmospheric systems teams. Something that the stations lacked yet which humans so desperately needed. Germs. Microscopic organisms which filled the atmosphere of Earth and yet were absent from the station atmosphere. Without external agents for human bodies to counter, they had finally turned on themselves it had seemed. And so the Syndrome was born. And from the very day she first learned of its existence, Julia Heller had vowed to one day use all her chromo-tilted medical expertise to fight against that insidious disease. The disease that had claimed the only true friend she had ever known.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Story Notes:
Hello gang!
I'm redirecting this for Simon, who has conveniently left the country until the end of July sometime. ;)
This is another Station Chronicles story. If you have any questions on the Station Chronicles, or if you missed the first one - True and Consequences - please write to me, Kath
Enjoy!
Kath
=)
June 1997
NOTE: All three stories are archived here. Andy
I'm redirecting this for Simon, who has conveniently left the country until the end of July sometime. ;)
This is another Station Chronicles story. If you have any questions on the Station Chronicles, or if you missed the first one - True and Consequences - please write to me, Kath
Enjoy!
Kath
=)
June 1997
NOTE: All three stories are archived here. Andy
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading my contribution to the Station Chronicles series! I hope you enjoyed it. Please send comments to me at simkat@pangea.stanford.edu. And look out for the next installment of the Station Chronicles, coming soon!