“But you can help him, right?” she asked.
“I believe so. We’ll begin standard treatments immediately, and I’ve already called for the Orbital Genesis team to work on more specialized options. Active gene replacement will be the final fix to keep him viable for the duration of his life, which we will extend to you and synthesize for the Hydra team.”
“How long before you know it’ll work?”
“It will likely be several weeks before we can supply you with an assessment of actionable confidence. Unless you receive other orders, I’d recommend you continue with your assignment as planned and we’ll be in touch if anything develops.”
The suggestion was cold but entirely warranted. The data collected so far by the Gemini mission had been delivered to their respective group, and the doctor was the center of the gear to make sense of it all. Erin nodded. “I can do that. Just give him what you can. For all of us; it’s what he’d want.”
“You have my word on that.”
“Can I at least see him?”
“He’s still under, but you may. Please be mindful of what he’s just endured,” Lewis answered and led the way back into the lab space.
The astronaut more closely resembled a medical cadaver than a breathing subject. Half covered by a single sheet upon the cot, his features were more gaunt than usual, except where obscured by the respirator. The shallow breathing and dim return on the stack of equipment beside Adam’s head provided the only conclusive evidence that he was still alive. Laser incisions danced across his exposed flesh, in most cases now held closed by flexible sutures.
Erin’s head was a swirl of conflicting emotions as she smoothed his hair and stared down at his closed eyes. Part of her wanted to blame the doctor and the Orbital Genesis staff for making such a colossal mistake. She forced it away as the current team was providing every possible advantage to get the astronaut healed and their problems corrected. The part about Erin herself along with the Hydra crew being susceptible to the same genetic malfunction had obviously not yet taken hold as it had given her no sense of panic on top of the rest of their issues.
The intercom blared throughout the otherwise calm medical facility and Lewis took the waiting call from a terminal on the side of the room away from his patient.
“Sir, it’s Dr. Dreher.”
The assistant on the other side who acted as an intermediary seemed shaken enough to stage the comment as a warning. Lewis glanced back to Erin with a puzzled look growing on his face. “Thank you. Put him through.”
“Doc,” his voice cut through with a persistent sharpness and without any additional greetings, “I trust my prodigal son is in good hands with your care.”
“That’s correct, sir. We’ve identified multiple cancerous—”
“Yes, that’s what was stated in the briefing I received this morning. How much time do you need with him?”
“At least of a month or two to perform the required surgeries and apply the gene replacements, as long as we don’t run into too many roadblocks along the way.”
“Well that’s dandy, but you have one week.”
Lewis shot Erin a sideways glance with a furrowed brow. “Sir—”
Dreher cut him off. “Apparently, the secret of our astronaut is out, and I’ve been called to Capitol Hill to provide a full accounting of our activities since inception, and they’ve specifically requested the presence of Captain Montgomery.”
“Sir, I don’t think you understand. That’s simply not possible.”
“No, I don’t think you understand,” Dreher snapped. “We’ve been called to appear a week from Monday. Adam will accompany me or that will be the end to the program. No more Draco, no more Gemini, and oh, by the way, the Hydra crew will never wake up. Accelerate the treatments and stabilize him for transport or don’t bother at all!”
The line went dead, leaving Erin and Lewis alone and in an awkward silence.
Erin swallowed hard. “Does this change things?”
“No, ma’am,” Lewis replied. “I’ll get the triage started and we’ll work our way through the treatments. If we run out of time, he’ll at least be stable enough to survive until the follow-up.
“What can I do?” she finally asked.
“Observe and pray.” Lewis advised, “But beyond that, there’s little to be done. I can call you back when we’re ready to transport him if you’d like to continue with your primary mission.”
***
“Adam, wake up. I know you can hear me.”
The soothing voice flowed into Adam’s consciousness like warm honey before his memory made the connection to the previous alarm on Draco Station. His eyes exploded open at the thought as his heart jolted to life, instinctually searching for danger. The air was clear, lit from all sides by bright lights. Erin and Dr. Lewis were by his side with the former at his head with an especially concerned look on her face.
His body was fatigued at all levels, and he looked down to see a row of needles piercing both arms from wrists to elbows. “What…” he mumbled.
“Your treatment was pushed up so we can accompany Dr. Dreher. We didn’t have time to bring you out before it began,” Erin explained. “Time to get moving. You need to go save the program.”
Adam’s mind was still reeling from the long sleep but felt each needle slide from his vein as Dr. Lewis removed them. It was a secondary worry as he stared up at Erin. “What are you wearing?” he asked, seeing her for the first time in something other than a Gemini crew flight suit.
“Normal-people-clothing,” she said and smiled, holding up a dark suit on a wooden hanger. “I got one for you too.”
“When do we leave?”
“As soon as you’re dressed. They flew us up last night while you were still under. The car’s outside and Dr. Dreher is waiting for us at the capitol.”
His body was weak to the point of being deflated, but Adam got to his feet and prepared himself for the inquiry as best he could. The shower was expansive by his standards, at least three feet to a side, and came stocked with more options than he had ever remembered from his childhood.
The suit was a separate matter. He made it through the awkward assembly, until he got to the tie and found himself at a loss. Allowing frustration to grow, he pushed aside the lavatory door.
“Doc, I’m gonna need a hand here.”
Erin rounded the corner and suppressed a laugh and eye roll. “Good grief, you’re a fright,” she added before fixing the blue and silver striped tie, which had turned into a lopsided mess. “You never had to do this?”
“It’s been a long time, and it doesn’t help I can barely move my arms. Give me a break.”
“I’ll help you, just don’t play with it,” she said, tightening the knot and cinching it to the collar. “Okay?”
He smirked. “This thing itches.”
“I think you’ll survive. If anything, fashion should be the least of your worries,” Erin said, flattening his lapel. “Knock ‘em dead.”
***
The inquiry had already begun by the time Adam arrived, and he was ushered to a seat out of sight of Dr. Dreher, who was ahead of him in the front row. A heated discussion was already underway between him and the panel of senators on the other side of a half-round table. Sergey was to Adam’s left, a welcome face as the staffer left them alone, although his brow was already starting to sweat.
“Sir, I don’t think you comprehend the magnitude of what we’re trying to accomplish here,” Dreher said, his voice rising.
“I think we understand far too well,” the man on the far side replied. “Under your leadership the past two decades, the budget for NASA has exploded, no thanks to your questionable dealings, and I’ve yet to see any evidence that the investment has been worth it.”
“There is risk in our work, but that has always been the case. The public understands that, as do the more than twenty nations which have supplied material support to the Draco and Gemini missions.”
“You ca
n let us make that determination. If you’d like to talk about public perception, let’s discuss your Orbital Genesis sideshow.”
“I think you can give our work a bit more credit,” Dreher shot back. “It has been the crucial step in sustainable long-term space flight.”
“Your stated goal was to evolve humanity as a space-faring race!”
“And I have achieved precisely that!” Dreher said, his voice rising again. “When I arrived, there wasn’t even a self-sustaining colony on Mars. The program was floundering and hadn’t made a breakthrough in decades. We’re now on Mars permanently, plus the asteroid belt, Jupiter, Europa, Saturn, and Titan, with a mission on its way to Uranus as we speak. If we continue this work, there will be hope for our future. There won’t be a scenario in which humanity fails to survive in the universe.”
“Breeding subjects to run your experiments is not the same as saving real people,” one of the senators to the left quipped, “especially when you can’t even keep them alive.”
“Our yield rates have improved dramatically from what was anticipated in the early experiments, so we’ve already exceeded expectations.”
“Orbital Genesis is the catalyst for NASA to lose all credibility,” the senator said, ignoring the statement. “Having the administration keep secrets as per certain phenomena is one thing, but it’s entirely another when it’s to protect a concept that the majority of the public would find morally revolting.”
“The decision to keep the program classified came from your panel, not my office, and if you want to renegotiate that topic, you can deal with the fallout. We could have had ten years to build the sentiment, but now here we are!” Dreher said, growing more agitated. “I gave us a way to bring humanity to the stars at a fraction of the cost in money and lives. What would take twenty years on Earth to train and prep candidates for extended missions takes me months, without the need for psychological evals to further disqualify them. My crews have performed flawlessly!”
“Your products do no more to bring people to the stars than do deep-space missions full of trained dogs,” the senator said, retaliating to the sudden accusation. “You have provided a step above an automated probe, but that is all. It doesn’t gain us any standing with the international community, especially now that we have on good evidence that you cannot even keep your subjects viable on their first outing. The consensus to your science fair is continually growing that we should cut our losses and go with a proven solution to move people and material into space, not your genetic disasters which you call humans.”
“HEY!” Adam shouted, hopping to his feet after bristling under the weight of the exchange. Dreher jumped as well and spun about in surprise at the voice. “His ‘product’ is standing right here. How about you say that to my face?”
The senator scanned between Adam and Dreher. “Is this your damaged system?”
“It appears it is.”
“How about you show me a little damned respect!” Adam shouted again. “You don’t even know what I’ve sacrificed for you!”
“Son, you’re mistaken,” the senator sighed. “You were grown in a lab, and by my reckoning are barely six years old. You have no agency on this planet.”
“No, I think you have that backwards. I lost everything that the doctor gave me to care about. I’ve been sucked out an airlock. I’ve nearly lost my arm to a ruptured valve that I had to stitch back together myself. I’ve spent days stranded on an asteroid. Today I’m dying of cancer. I think I have a fair amount of agency in this discussion.”
“Your trials are compelling but immaterial, and your treatment means another considerable expense to this organization…”
“I don’t think so,” Adam demanded again, his fists clenching tighter, now damp with sweat. “What do you think deep space travel looks like? You don’t just scoop up a load of your constituents and drop them on another planet. It’ll take generations to get a ship to any other system. Any memory of Earth will be expunged. They’ll be as alien as any one of the Orbital Genesis crews, but without the training to make them effective.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but this program is finished.”
“How do you imagine your end?” Adam asked, slowly stepping forward, scanning across the panel of seated officials. “What’s the worst that could happen? In another thirty years you expire from a heart attack, surrounded by a caring family, where the first order of business will be to name a bridge after you?
“In space, one wrong move and I asphyxiate over the course of hours, where the warning won’t even reach Earth before I’m brain dead. No family, no constituents, no bridge. Just me laying on a rock for the next millennium until I’m pulverized by more asteroids. Don’t you dare say my life has no meaning or that this mission isn’t worth it. By this man’s dedication, humanity will never be extinguished from the universe,” he added, gesturing to Dr. Dreher who remained motionless at his side.
“Thank you for that compelling analysis. Please dismiss yourself from this chamber.”
Adam stared daggers into the senator’s eyes as he turned and marched from the room, hiding a searing pain throughout his body as best he could. He collapsed in the closest seat outside—an old wooden side chair placed against the wall. Without the strength to dwell on the examination further, he let his head fall limp and swing free as he drifted away from consciousness.
When next Adam opened his eyes, he spied Dr. Dreher’s shoes a step before his own.
“Unorthodox, but I do believe you have made an impression for our cause,” Dreher announced with a thin smile.
“Really?” Adam managed through the fog of his stupor.
“It’s early but I’ve got a good feeling about this. I’ve been in that room enough times to know what to look for.”
Erin rounded the corner mid-sentence. “How’d you do?” she immediately asked.
“As well as we can hope for. I’d have been convinced,” Dreher replied. “Hopefully, we can wrap this up quick and get you back for treatment. No sense in going through all this just to have you keel over before we can finish our work.”
“They really don’t understand, do they?” Adam asked.
“No, but it doesn’t hurt to look at things from their perspective either,” Dreher admitted. “We’re really all doing what we feel is right, and they just don’t have the insight to see it. They don’t know how to look at an interstellar mission five generations in advance and see how it’s producing people who are no more or less human than either one of us, just in a far more abusive environment.” He looked between Adam and Erin. “I wouldn’t let this exchange define what you think of humanity as a whole.”
“Of course not,” Adam said.
“For now, you” –Dreher gestured to Erin— “and once treatment is complete, all of us will be presenting the work you have accomplished. It’s a step away from magic to most people, that we’ve been able to build stations on other planets. For a million dreamers out there, you’re rock stars.”
“But I assume they won’t know how we got there.”
“For now,” Dreher admitted, “but it won’t be that way for long. Once the leadership comes to their senses, this will be a minor snag in the rear view. Let’s start getting you out in front so we can showcase your work. Always better to have public influence on our side.”
***
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Erin asked her companion as they waited behind a towering black curtain. “I’ve done these before. I can take another one or three if you’re still not up to it.”
“I’m certain,” Adam insisted as he closed the front of his flight suit and took a deep breath, instantly feeling relieved and at once at home. “It’s been a month longer than they promised already, and Doc Lewis finally cleared the gene replacement. Enough of the delays; it’s about time I get back to work.”
He heard his name echo through the speakers outside and strode forward onto the wooden stage, his footsteps imperceptible against a ro
aring applause. The cavernous concert hall boasted an audience well into the thousands, with students in attendance from dozens of schools around the area. Adam thanked the presenter and turned to face the sea of onlookers.
Each one wore a look that he well recognized. That magical expression of wonder and hope which would persist in the face of impossible odds. It was the last spark of light in a darkened world, one wisp away from being extinguished, but with the power to reignite an everlasting glow.
“Thank you for that kind introduction,” he began. “As the director just said, I’m Captain Adam Montgomery and I’d like to tell you about how we came to live in the most inhospitable environment you can possibly imagine. I want to tell you about the first manned mission to Saturn.”
The chronicle of the adventure exceeded an hour before Adam even gave a thought to the time. They transitioned into questions and answers after a short time, and he continued to expound on the various experiences which faced a spacefaring crew.
“What made you decide to become an astronaut?”
Adam had pointed at the child, maybe ten years old, without the preconception that the question would have hit square between the eyes. Most had been benign enough: students asking about weightlessness, what he ate, and what it was like to see other planets.
He swallowed hard, trying to hide his aversion to the subject. “That’s a… complicated question,” Adam began, buying time as he thought ahead. “Pretty much every other job would have been easier, but look at where I get to work,” he said, gesturing to the screen behind him, which showed a towering static image of the planet and its ring system. “That’s what I see when I get up every morning.”
Through the fog of his treatments, the near-death experiences and the constant mental hazing, a lone voice called to him from a distant past. He thought for a moment and continued, “More than that, though, I think it’s been my responsibility to do what I do. The universe has done a remarkable thing by making itself discoverable to us. It is at the very limit of our grasp, but I’ve never gotten the sense that it is beyond what we are capable of understanding. What we see every night is reachable, but only through sheer dedication and determination will we get there. Because of what I do, you’ll be able to go one step farther.”
Adam's Rings Page 24
