Darwin

by Amanda Bridgeman

  Doc appeared in the doorway and rapped his knuckles on the frame. Harris waved his first lieutenant forward, then walked over to shake his hand.

  “Doc. Looking tanned, I see,” he nodded at him.

  “Captain,” Doc said, studying him. “You look … a little tired.”

  “Big night, Doc. I wasn’t expecting a call at 0449.” Harris returned to his desk and sat down.

  “That our mission info?” Doc motioned to the e-file lying on his desk with multiple folders open on the pane.

  “Yeah. Our new recruits,” Harris said, as he took a blank e-file, laid it beside the other, then transferred the information over from one to the other with a swish of his finger.

  “When do they arrive?”

  “Now! You better start reading.” Harris handed the e-file pane over to Doc.

  “Yes, sir!” Doc turned and headed back toward the door flicking his fingers across the screen and scrolling the files as he went. A look of confusion suddenly crossed his face, and he stopped and turned back. “Captain, you’ve given me their whole file here?”

  Harris stared back. “I want them back on my desk by 1800.”

  Doc, still looking a little confused, nodded anyway. “Yes, sir,” he said, then left.

  It wasn’t normal procedure to hand over a soldier’s entire personnel file to the ship’s medic. Doc was usually only granted access to their medical file. However, Harris thought in this case it may just help things along. He figured that if Doc knew a bit more about the new recruits’ profiles, he might find connections to help make their transition that bit smoother. After all, they would reach Darwin in just three days, so he didn’t have much time at hand for a suitable integration program.

  He turned back to the mission file again and tried to read between the lines, wanting to guess what information Command had omitted in their classification. He called up his ultra-thin flat screen and keypad, which rose from a slot in his desk and began numerous searches on Professor Sharley and his crew. After searching for some time, he eventually came across one small piece of information that aroused his interest. It seemed there were certain human rights groups who disapproved of Sharley’s rumored methods when it came to “treating” the prisoners in Hell Town. Although the information did not go into much detail, it did suggest his studies on human behavior had enabled him to perfect the manipulation and torture of people on both an emotional and physical scale.

  Curious, Harris started looking further into Hell Town. It was the only structure built in the northern hemisphere of Mars, wedged on a plain between the mighty Olympus Mons and Ascraeus Mons. It was the most advanced prison in history for several reasons. Firstly, it was extremely isolated. Any prisoner who managed to escape the inescapable would not survive long on the outside without food or water, neither of which was readily available as the nearest colony was some 3,500 miles away. Of course no escapee could survive outside the purification domes without access to a spacesuit either.

  Secondly, the prison itself was fully automated and fully monitored. The structure itself and surrounding areas, were under constant surveillance via a number of sensors and radars. No-one got in or out without iris and fingerprint scans. Prisoners even needed a scan to use the toilet in their cells. If their iris or fingerprints were picked up anywhere they weren’t supposed to be, punishment ensued. You stepped a foot out of line, and you paid the price. The prisoners learnt this very quickly.

  Thirdly, human guards were still used in Hell Town. However, their uniforms were a synthetic sheath, impregnated with a special lightweight metal, making it impervious to both sharp and blunt objects. They were also armed with state-of-the-art taser weapons, which could only be activated by fingerprint recognition. The prisoners loathed the system, but soon learnt that to fight against it meant they would be introduced to Warden Sharley’s system of discipline and punishment. What exactly that was, Harris didn’t know, but rumor or not, if human rights groups were against it, he could only imagine that it would not have been pleasant.

  He sat there digesting this new information awhile before heading over to his coffee machine. He figured that he still had time for one more strong black coffee before he undertook his pre-flight physical and debriefed the men. He poured a cup and took a sip, feeling a little more alive now than he did this morning, but he had to admit he was looking forward to hitting the sack that evening.

  He stood beside his coffee machine, circling his neck around and stretching out his back. He hadn’t been this tense in a long time. He wondered if it was all that dancing in the jazz club the night before?

  Funnily enough, the dream he’d had of Sibbie and Etta flashed through his mind again, but he quickly shook it away with a chuckle. Growing up, he’d obviously listened to his sister, Holly, more than he’d thought he had. Damn that woman! He smiled to himself. He was sure he’d feel better tomorrow, once he’d slept the remnants of the hangover away.

  He sipped his coffee and listened to how still the ship was. No voices, just the low hum of the ship as it idled, charging up its power stores. Soon enough the men would be arriving and that would all change. It only made him curious, then, as to how Doc was progressing with the new recruits?

  *

  Carrie, after clearing through yet another guard post, finally made her way onto Dock 559. It sprawled out in a doglegged fashion before her, angling off to the left behind a large electrical substation. As soon as she cleared the building, she suddenly saw before her the large, brown beast she assumed was the Aurora.

  So this is my ship, huh? She smiled. She ran her eyes over the craft from tail to tip. A couple hundred meters long, and roughly oval-shaped, it had a rounded smooth core and underbelly, with sharp angular wings protruding here and there along its sides and spine. It looked sleek enough for speed, but bulky enough for sheer power, as it loomed large above her. From afar, its brown color looked like rust. As she neared, however, she took a closer look, running her hand along its side and realized that it was some sort of rough protective metal coating, no doubt playing its part when the ship’s defensive shield was engaged.

  It took her a minute or so to walk down to the boarding entrance. Although the ship was not as large as some docked there, it was certainly the biggest one she’d seen up this close. She wondered how many crew it carried?

  After having her ID scanned by yet another guard at the ship’s entrance, she stepped over the Aurora’s threshold, feeling goosebumps scatter along both her arms. Staring ahead at the Space Duty insignia of the wall opposite, and fighting hard to keep her smile in check, she turned left onto the main corridor as per the guard’s instructions, and saw Packham up ahead, waiting outside what she assumed was the medic’s rooms.

  “Sergeant Packham,” she nodded as she approached.

  Packham returned the nod. “Corporal Colt’s in there now,” she motioned to the closed door.

  Carrie nodded again and surveyed the long gray metal corridor either side of them. The place seemed deserted and she was jumping out of her skin to explore it all. Before too long Colt emerged from the medic’s office. She gave Carrie a smile hello, and told her to go on through.

  As Carrie stepped inside and closed the door behind her, she saw an empty office before her, and doorways to rooms either side of where she stood. The one to the left appeared to be a small hospital, as she saw a row of bed capsules through the doorway, with their pod covers and tubes hanging overhead from the ceiling. She looked through the doorway on her right and saw a line of cabinets against the wall, filled with medical supplies.

  “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in just a second,” she heard a man’s American accent call to her from inside the room.

  She walked over to the desk, placed her bag on the floor and took a seat. The office in which she sat seemed a little unbalanced. The furniture was all crammed up the one end where the desk was, and it was bare at the other end by the entry door and adjacent doors to the other room
s. The busy end had a medium sized overflowing bookshelf, filled with various medical journals, UNF policy and procedure manuals, and strangely enough, travel guides. There was also an e-filing rack; long thin slots in the wall, like letterbox mouths, where the e-file panes were stored, under pin-code release. The medic’s desk itself was covered with a few e-file panes, e-clipboards, and other equipment. She leaned forward a little in her chair, trying to get a better look at the panes, but heard him coming and quickly sat back in her chair.

  He walked up to her and put his hand out. She looked up at him.

  “How you doing? First Lieutenant Walker,” he said in a firm but friendly voice.

  She smiled and shook his hand. “Corporal Welles.”

  “Nice to meet you, Corporal Welles. The guys on the ship call me Doc, so feel free to do the same.” He walked around to sit on the opposite side of the desk, opening up what she assumed was her e-file, and began scanning it. “So you had your Space Duty medical just a few weeks ago,” he said, reading her file, “and you’ve never been to space before. Not even on holiday?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “No, sir.”

  “Never been to Station Atlantis?” He seemed quite surprised.

  She shook her head again. Space travel was still considered a luxury and something she couldn’t afford. And even if she could, she wouldn’t be spending it somewhere like the funfair, tourist-park station of Atlantis.

  “You’re missing out,” he smiled. “Great rides!”

  She smiled back. He seemed pretty relaxed for a lieutenant. As he kept reading through her file, she subtly studied him. He was a lot younger than she’d expected. When she was told to report to the medic she expected either some old guy with gray hair or some straitlaced middle aged man, but Doc looked only a few years older than her. He was good looking too, with short brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, smooth features and a nice smile. His uniform sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and she noticed his forearms, and wondered how he kept a tan like that in space?

  He looked back up at her, “Okay, you passed your Space Duty medical with flying colors.” He shut her folder and grabbed an e-clip sitting in a tray on his desk. “This physical is routine and fairly simple. We just need to ascertain your physical condition right now, today, before we take off. We check it regularly while we’re away, and then we have a closing medical to say that we released you in fine condition,” he explained.

  Carrie nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.”

  Doc grabbed an electronic pen and scrawled her name and the date at the top of the e-clip’s electronic form. She guessed he would complete the details on the e-clip and when he was done, simply upload onto the UNF’s network, where his handwriting would be deciphered into text, and the signature embedded into the final document. She used to process forms like that all the time in her old administration jobs.

  The medic proceeded to ask a string of questions on her past medical history, and when the questions were done, he asked her to move into the examination room for the physical. She walked into the room opposite the hospital’s entrance. Rectangular in shape and brightly lit, it was obviously the medic’s main working area. There was an examination table against the wall, halfway down the room, and what looked like a small laboratory at the far end. There were various cabinets of medical supplies and equipment taking up the other wall space.

  She made her way over to the table and sat up on it next to the blood pressure equipment. Doc came in shortly after with the e-clip. He placed it beside her on the table and pulled over a stool to sit down in front of her.

  “Can you hold out your arm for me, please?” he asked, getting the BP equipment ready.

  Carrie held out her right arm. He placed a flat, white monitor disc on the inside of her upper arm and began wrapping it tightly with the armband.

  “So, I’m told you’re quite the shooter?” he said, inflating the armband.

  She smiled. “I’m alright.”

  “Alright? That’s not what I hear.”

  Carrie shrugged. It wasn’t her style to boast.

  The armband was quite tight around her arm, and the machine beeped and started the deflation slowly.

  “You must be looking forward to your first space trip?” he asked, watching her closely to gauge her response.

  “Very much, sir. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s certainly different to Earth Duty,” he said noting down her reading on the e-clip and unwrapping the armband. “Some newcomers get motion sickness, particularly on takeoff, so if you feel queasy just let me know and I’ll give you an anti-nausea shot. Make sure you keep your fluids up, too. The air on the ship can dry you out. If you get any headaches or notice anything peculiar, just come and see me,” he said, packing away the BP monitor.

  “Yes, sir,” she nodded.

  “Now we’ve just got to check your vitals. If you can unbutton the top of your shirt,” he motioned, “I’ll place these suckers on.” He held up a couple more of the white discs that he’d just placed on the inside of her arm, then turned and wheeled over a machine that was sitting to his right. Carrie undid the first couple of buttons of her blouse to just above her cleavage. Doc turned back to her.

  “Ah, just a little bit more than that,” he said, pointing to her stomach. “I need it down to here, soldier.”

  “Sorry, sir,” she said, and undid the extra buttons, feeling a little embarrassed as Doc turned back to her again. She was starting to regret that she didn’t wear the singlet underneath her shirt, not to mention the fact that she wore her best push-up bra that day. Underneath the uniform it made her look perky and great, but now it was exposed she was feeling more Playboy Bunny than serious soldier, offering Doc a great view. She made a mental note to pull out her boring bra from here on in.

  Doc continued on as though he hadn’t noticed, or at least, was pretending he hadn’t noticed. He grabbed one disc and placed it halfway between her right shoulder and right breast, another over her heart, and the third he placed further down under her left breast. She immediately heard her heart beating on the monitor beside them, and wondered if maybe it was pumping a little quickly. She didn’t want to seem nervous. She studied the machine’s screen and saw it was broken up into three monitors, one for each disc. One was clearly registering her heartbeat, the other two she figured were her lungs, the chart’s crest rising and falling in time with her breathing.

  After recording the readings for a moment, and then testing her lung capacity, by having her blow into a long white tube, Doc looked back to the e-clip at the uploaded results, while she swiftly buttoned her blouse again.

  “Right, that all looks fine. I just need to give you one last scan and we’re done.” He stood and walked to the opposite wall. “If you could just stand here and look straight ahead at the wall,” he told her.

  Carrie walked over to a marker on the floor, and did as requested, noticing him eyeing her carefully. He appeared to be judging her height. She heard a buzzing sound and saw a silver lever jutting out from the wall, move down in line with the top of her head. She glanced back at him, trying to judge his height and figured he was maybe just shy of six foot.

  “This machine scans your brain,” Doc told her. “It also reads your eye, ear and nose health.”

  She heard another noise and the lever extended out from the wall to become a metal arm, which positioned itself directly above her skull. A series of metal fingers protruded from the arm and they began moving back and forth rapidly, scanning her.

  “Some people have issues with their ears up there,” Doc told her. “Again, if you have any problems, come and see me and I’ll sort it out.”

  She nodded in reply, eyeing the silver fingers carefully as they finished scanning her and retracted back into the arm, and then the wall. The e-clip lit up again and Doc checked the results.

  “Okay, we’re done. If you just want to wait outside with the others
, I’ll be out in a moment to show you to your quarters.”

  Carrie joined the two women outside and Doc emerged soon after. He lead them down the corridor to a T-junction, took a right, then a left, and continued on down. Carrie noticed that the corridors were all the same. Gray metal flooring, with gray metal walls, occasionally emblazoned with the UN Space Forces insignia. It looked like any other military facility; formal and functional.

  “These are the soldier’s quarters,” Doc said. “You’ll need your pass to access many parts of this ship. Some areas are always open though, like the mess hall, the training facility, and generally the flight deck as it’s always manned.” He lead them down to the furthermost door on the right. “We bunk up two to a room on this ship, but for this mission the three of you will be bunking together. Can I have one of your passes, please?”

  Packham was closest, so she stepped up to the access panel and swiped the card whilst it was still attached to her waist. The door unlocked and slid open.

  “There you go,” Doc told them. “Unpack and settle in, soldiers. The beds have been assigned, so look for your name.”

  Carrie followed Packham into the room, but Colt stopped at the door.